“The Knee-Jerk Shield,” Eric recited. “A barrier all living things possess that makes most ranged weapons useless. Aside from a longbow arrow, physical intimacy is lost between the user and the ammo, and as a result, the latter cannot be charged with intent to kill. A weapon without this intent cannot harm monsters or non-suicidal sapients. “
“Very good. If this was a pop quiz, I would give you an A.”
Eric raised his barrier again. “Is it?”
“No. But it's a good thing to know because it was a history-changing technique.”
Eric lowered his barrier again. “I can imagine. With all the training longbows and magecraft require, professional soldiers rise in importance.”
Basilard smacked the back of his head. “You're still not thinking big enough. Since we have the Knee-Jerk Shield we don't have to bother with those awful broomstick things Ceiha invented.”
Eric rubbed the spot. “ You mean 'guns'?”
“Oh yeah, that's what they're called . . .They make Ceiha a completely different society in terms of its martial culture. Magecraft and Martial Arts require discipline to become strong and even hand-held weapons require close combat; a gun allows someone to kill at a distance instantly. It also makes substantial changes in military logistics.”
“How so?” Eric asked.
“Those things are so expensive, reliant on ammo, breakable, and worthless in bad weather, they're not at all practical. In the time it would take me to build a single gun, I could train a dozen of you to shoot mana bolts and create battle barriers. This way, I get soldiers that can attack at close range and midrange, ward off minor damage, and all I have to do is pay their wages. Money that would be spent on weapons instead goes into food, transport, etc.”
“You sure know your stuff.”
“Of course,” the veteran said with pride. “I was a legion commander in the Crisis War between Latrot and Mithra eight years ago. I picked teaching magecraft over anything else, every time.”
“And now you only have me.” Eric said wryly.
“Ahh . . .Speaking of which.”
Basilard reached into his pouch and pulled out a book. It was brand new without a dent in its page ends or a crease in its spine. The old mage handed it to his student with the reference reserved for diplomas. Eric took it in his hands and read the title aloud.
“Introduction to Magecraft by Dengel Tymh.”
“Your Proof of Skill won't include anything in there, but I recommend reading it anyway.” Basilard stood up. “Now back to training.”
Two months after his arrival, Eric awoke to see the sun in his eyes. The Sun's already up? He shot up in bed- The Sun's already—ow! and hit his head the bottom of Aio's bed. Ignoring the pain, he rushed to get dressed, only to trip on his pants, and fall flat on his face.
Aio glanced over from the desk chair and said, “Morning, Roomy.”
“Why didn't you wake me up?” Eric asked as he struggled with his pants.
“Hey, I tried!” Aio protested. “When I shook you, you ignored me. When I grabbed the blankets, you held them with an iron grip. When I tried to yank you off the bed, you grabbed the frame. When I splash you, the water dripped off a barrier.” He crossed his arms. “So don't blame me.”
“Basilard is going to be furious!” Eric shouted as he pulled his tunic over his head.
“Actually he came by just before I dropped the fire ants and told me to let you sleep.”
Eric paused and stared. “You're kidding, right?”
“Yeah I am.” Eric gasped. “About the fire ants, not about your teacher.”
“He really said I had the morning off?”
“Yeah. Oh! There was also a letter.” Aio dug into his pocket and pulled it out. At the top was a dragon standing in a cave and below was a message:
“'Eric, your entrance exam is today. I hope I haven't been wasting my time training you. In order to prevent cramming and to assess your skills in a real setting, you will not be told when or where the test will be. You should be grateful. If I had my way, you wouldn't get any warning at all, but Leader says . . .' And other stuff about being prepared and good luck. Signed, Basilard Bladi.”
“That sounds serious, Roomy, think you're ready?”
Eric folded the letter and put it in his pocket. His hands were shaking, so he put them in his pockets, too. “I don't know. I guess I'll find out.”
“I've heard mercenary tests are dangerous. Can I have your meal card if you die?”
“AIO!”
“I'm kidding, Roomy, I'm kidding.” Aio patted Eric on the back. “I'm sure you'll do fine. You might even keep all your fingers.” Eric froze. “Kidding!”
His fear didn't lift and his friends were quick to pick up on it. Then again, it had been obvious that he was unusually jumpy. None of them could think of any other reason why Eric would put a student into a headlock for tapping him on the shoulder.
“Eric, are you okay?” Annala asked on their way to class.
“I'm fine.” Eric walked into the classroom.
“Your body heat isss rissing,” Oito said, his tongue slithering in and out. “You cannot lie to me.”
Eric said nothing and took his seat. To emphasize his determination to ignore them, he took out a book and started reading. A pair of claws pulled it away.
“Come on, Eric! Spill!” Revas urged. With the cat demon in front of him and, and Annala and Oito to either side, he was trapped.
“All right . . .I have a test later today to determine if I can join the Dragon's Lair, but I don't know when it'll be or if I'll pass.”
“If you're nervous, we'll go with you.”
“Yessss. What are friendsss for?”
“We're with you, Eric,” Annala said with concern. “Remember?”
Eric smiled. “Yeah, I remember. I'm going to the park after school to practice.”
Annala smiled back. “We'll go with you.”
School seemed to drag on forever that day. Revas and Oito claimed the teachers cast a time-extension spell on the building to drag out their suffering. Annala was quick to say this was absurd; tempacraft was far too dangerous for such a mundane purpose. Eric twiddled away the time looking for his teacher. Eventually, the school day did end and all the students poured out.
Annala kept his mind off the test with a history pop quiz. It was the only class Eric needed to study for: 2+2=4 regardless of the world. From the quiz, they moved into a discussion about mana and then mana mutation. Oito commented on their “nerd mating dance” and laughed at their protests.
The gates of the park were open, but what they found wasn't the young and old having fun in the great outdoors. It was something much scarier.
“Hello again, Otherworlder,” the orc said. “Where did we leave off ?” He pulled his ax off his back and held it lightly in his hands. “Ah yes, I was about to kill you.” Annala formed a ball of light in her hands and threw it at the orc. When he batted it away, it exploded with light.
“We've got to get out of here!” Annala shouted as she grabbed Eric's hand. “We don't stand a chance of beating him!”
The earth trembled and knocked them off their feet. A cliffs rose out of the earth in four directions. Ten feet and higher, it rose into a cage of dirt and stone. The park was now a prison.
“You stand even less chance of escaping.”
The mountain of muscle struck the earth with his ax, shooting a beam of light at the children. Annala leaped to create a barrier and Eric joined her with his own. Basilard tested his barrier with punches, but nothing could have prepared him for the impact. It was about to crumble when he remembered the vow he swore at the shooting gallery. The twin barriers held firm.
A frightening grin formed on the orc's lips. “It seems I need a different tactic.”
He raised his palm and Eric's friends flew backwards into the rock wall. An invisible hand crushed them against it with such force their bodies made imprints in the stone. Eric stared in shock as his friends scre
amed in pain.
“I'll kill em' right now and be done with it.”
“No you won't!” Eric shouted, his palms already crossed and a large bolt formed. “Get away from my friends!”
“And if I don't?” The orc pressed harder and his victims screamed louder. Eric yelled and fired. It collided with the orc's stomach and he yawned. “I'm still waiting, boy.”
Eric frowned and made another. More mana went into it and he put more willpower behind it. I've got to protect my friends! He fired the mana sphere without needing to yell. The orc scratched his belly. Eric mustered every drop of mana in his soul and fired with all the power in his spirit. A bolt the size of a watermelon erupted out of his arms and crashed into the orc. The impact broke his concentration and made him stumble, but before Eric could celebrate, the orc recovered.
With his ax over his shoulder and a wicked snarl on his face, he marched to the lone human.
I might as well have been shooting spitballs! That last bolt did more damage to him than his enemy: his body felt weak and his mind sluggish, but the orc remained unscathed. If only I could do what I did . . .that didn't work either . . .abyss take it! He pulled up jelly arms and forced one more bolt through them, but it fizzled out immediately. The orc grabbed his waist and pinned him to the ground.
Eric stared back. He refused to freeze like last time and the time before. While battling his fear, he searched for a technique that could save him. All he accomplished was making the orc's grin wider.
“Any last words?” the orc asked as he raised his blade above Eric's neck. The human's heart pounded and fear filled his mind like never before. He closed his eyes and looked away. I've failed them. I've failed my friends. “No? Then I have something to say.” Great . . . now he's going to taunt me about how he's going to eat my friends. WHY AREN'T I STRONG ENOUGH TO BEAT HIM!?
The blue aura appeared and surged against the orc. It bounced off a larger and darker one radiating off the orc's body, and faded pitifully.
“Well done, Apprentice Eric,” the orc said. Huh!? The orc set him down and clapped his back. “I should say 'Novice Eric' now.” The orc looked over his shoulder. “Shouldn't I, Basilard?”
Basilard Bladi slowly applauded from a shadowy corner. “You should, Laharg.”
Eric looked from his supposed enemy, to his mentor, to his fallen friends and back. Voice ripe with confusion, he asked, “Daylra . . .what's going on?”
“Novice Eric, allow me to introduce Squad One Senior Laharg,” Basilard said and clasped hands with the orc. “Thanks for doing this, buddy.”
Laharg the orc put his ax away. “Anytime.”
“You mean all this time I've been fighting someone from the Dragon's Lair?”
“Eric, let me be blunt. You looked so pathetic that the Dragon's Lair wasn't sure you had what it takes to be a mercenary, so Laharg was sent to see if you did.”
“What!? Are you saying that by using a technique I didn't know, I passed some kind of prelim?”
Laharg chuckled. The boy looked more like a warrior already. “You passed with flying colors. All we were hoping for was a tackle or a punch or something. Even running away would be good if it was to distract me from your friends. Videlicet Mens was far beyond our expectations.”
“So they sent me to polish your skills,” Basilard said, “Then Laharg to test them.”
“Test!” Eric shrieked. “Look what he did to my friends! That's not okay!”
Basilard turned to Laharg. “He's right, you know. You didn't have to be so rough on them.”
“Any less rough would have been out of character for an 'Evil Orc Thug,'” Laharg protested. “They're not seriously hurt and it motivated him. A good night's sleep and they'll be fine.”
Eric looked from one to the other, still confused. “Um, Daylra, if this was Proof of Skill, how come I passed? I lost.”
“Of course you lost!” Laharg said. “I'm an orc! Even the weakest of my species has muscles that are better than most human armor and could crush your bones like eggs.”
The image made Eric shudder.
“The purpose of the test was not to win, but to demonstrate your skills and you have. Tomorrow, you will officially join the Dragon's Lair. Congratulations!”
This should have elated Eric; all day he had worried about the test and what he would do if he failed. Passing like this didn't instill him with confidence. Red light flashed from Basilard's sword.
Laharg pulled Eric's friends out of the rock wall and waved to someone on top of them. A little girl with wings glided down to Laharg and landed on his head. She snapped her fingers and the walls slowly eased back into the ground.
Eric smiled when Annala opened her eyes. “The opposite of last time, right?”
“Yeah . . .” she said dreamily. With a shock, she sat up. “The orc!”
“He's not going to hurt us,” Eric said quickly. “His name's Laharg and he's the proctor for my entrance exam. We weren't actually in danger; he just wanted me to think I was.”
“Normally, those who sign up for a warrior's guild are ready for battle. They don't freeze.” Basilard explained. “Eric is one of the few who do so we adjusted the test. 'The Guild must conform to its members, not the other way around.' Another quote from the Mother Dragon.”
“You like quoting her.” Eric said.
“Well, she was a first class leader: wise, caring, strong—”
Revas' claws poked out. “I'd hate to interrupt your hero-worship, but who are you?”
Basilard didn't care. “Oh, yes, I haven't introduced myself: I am Basilard Bladi, Eric's mentor.”
“So you're the reason Eric's been so busy,” Annala said. “We haven't seen him lately.”
“Well, please forgive me,” Basilard replied with good humor. “Novice Eric, you have the next four days off; after that Proof of Skill, you deserve it. Catch up with your friends, have some fun. You're going to be busy.” He bowed to Annala, nodded to the demons, and then took his leave.
“He seems nice,” Annala said.
“You should see him during training,” Eric muttered.
True to his word, Basilard didn't show up at the dorms the next day, but Eric still felt the urge to practice. He told himself it was force of habit, but a certain pointy-eared face showed up every time he wanted to quit early. After he confronted an orc, Revas and Oito realized their friend wasn't as fragile as they thought and wrestled with him. This led to heated arguments because Oito kept using his tail, so Annala offered to teach him archery. Sometimes they would just talk or play basketball.
Aio was strangely missing.
Given how many classes he already tested out, of Annala suggested he ask the school if he could graduate early. He was almost sick with nerves when he sat down for his final school tests. His nausea vanished after he started and he finished with confidence. It wasn't as if he were fighting an orc.
Chapter 5 Meeting the Guild
Thirteen of the last fifteen chess games ended in Aio's favor. Eric was sure his mischievous roommate was switching the pieces when he wasn't looking. As the endgame began, he realized he was just a poorer player. Instead, he complimented his friend for his no-doubt complex strategies, but Aio insisted he only had flexible plans. He elaborated and Basilard walked in unannounced.
“Eric, pack up. You're moving out now.”
“Daylra!” He stood up to greet his mentor, and when his back was turned, Aio moved a rook towards a pawn. “Oh . . .well, Aio . . .I guess this is goodbye.” Basilard had a sudden coughing fit for some reason.
Aio smiled. “Actually, my own Proof of Skill is set for today.”
“Really? Great! Good luck. Maybe we'll work together.“
Aio handed Basilard a glass of water to help his cough.
The boys packed up the game and Eric left the room for good. Everything he owned he was wearing: the clothes he found in the room on his back and the two books Basilard gave him under his arm. His only other possessions were the crystals
and he returned those to the dorm keeper.
The Silver Dragon Dormitory was a block away from the slums. Houses stacked one on top of the other and piles of garage that were pushed into corners were visible from the windows and their smell wafted in if the windows were opened. The sun shined brightly on both as Basilard led Eric west to the port.
Streets changed from pounded dirt to broken brick. The buildings on either side were old and worn, but built with skill, patience, and quality. With every block, he saw more item stores, more training halls, and more restaurants without signs, asking customers to disarm before being seated. At last, Basilard stopped beneath a stone arch. To either side of him were statues; one wore a cloak and carried a staff, while the other wore full body armor and carried a sword. Both carried shields.
The veteran threw up his arms and said, “Welcome to the Red Town of Sword and Staff.”
“The guild has its own section of the city?”
Basilard dropped his arms. “Sort of.” He waved Eric forward. “When Roalt was founded, the first warriors settled in this section of town. That led to smiths placing their forges here and, before you know it, we had our own community. Watch your step. Some of us are kinda rough.”
The veteran's point was illustrated by an old man judo throwing a young punk into a dumpster. Then he stooped to pick up his dropped firewood; all ten pieces. He stood tall, lean, and wiry without any strain at all. Eric pitied that mugger moaning in the garbage.
Basilard waved. “Hi, Jacks.”
The old man smiled. “Hey, Belard. Is that the new meat?”
“Yes.” Basilard clapped Eric's back. “We'll come by later this week.”
Ax nodded and went his way. Basilard pointed to the end of the street. Instead of a stone building like its neighbors, it was a fifteen-story mountain. Its surface was rough, smothered in bird droppings and decorated with runes. Standing proudly on a ledge overlooking the front door was a granite statue of an armored woman with dragons at her sides.
A Mage's Power (Journey to Chaos) Page 9