by AC Cobble
Ben met Amelie’s look. Jasper seemed so friendly and kind, but apparently even he had a dark side.
“Thank you for telling us,” murmured Ben.
With nothing else to say, Ben took a quick a bite of stew and frowned. It had gotten cold. He ladled fresh stew into his bowl and the others followed suit. They ate silently, all lost in their own thoughts.
“I’ve been thinking,” remarked Jasper after several silent minutes. “I want to help you. Help more than I originally intended. I cannot go to Irrefort with you, but I can take you as far as the Coalition’s border. From there, you’ll be on your own, but I’ll have the comfort you are on your way.”
“That would be wonderful!” exclaimed Amelie. “You have so much to do here though. Are you sure you can be away?”
A grim smirk twisted Jasper’s face. “My friends are dead. My animals are dead. There’s nothing left to care for.” Seeing the stricken looks on Ben and Amelie’s faces, he held up a hand to stop their protests. “There is nothing to be done about it. Maybe I will come back and rebuild, but to do that, I need to buy fresh livestock and supplies. Everything that needs to be done here in the compound can wait.”
“We would appreciate your help greatly,” responded Ben.
“Also, that will give me time to teach you a few things,” said the mage, looking at Amelie. “The Sanctuary has been remiss in some of your education. I will fill those gaps as best I can. There are things you should know, and things I can teach you to do.”
Amelie looked startled.
“I told you last night that the original members of the Sanctuary focused on healing,” said Jasper. “At the time, it wasn’t intentionally segregated to be a female organization, but women were the ones who were naturally drawn to the mission. Male mages were drawn to combat. They were the ones who protected caravans travelling between city states and the ones who faced the demon swarms.”
Leaning forward on his elbows, the mage continued, “The first Veil used that. She claimed men were dangerous, violent creatures who wanted to dominate society. As I told you earlier, there were plenty of men around who were like that. The need to dominate is in the blood of some men, just as it turned out it is in the blood of some women. The lords and the ladies, exalting in their newfound economic bounty and regional governance, went right along. They knew the women of the Sanctuary. The Sanctuary had protected and healed the families of the rulers for ages. The men were strangers. They spent their time in the field, away from the throne, so to speak. Before long, the claims the Veil and her minions made were assumed to be true. Men were inherently unable to handle the responsibility that came with being a mage.”
“That’s when the purge began. She started within her own ranks,” continued Jasper. “The men of the Sanctuary were the first to disappear. After them came men on the fringes. They started to vanish one by one. Never a large group. It was always someone who could be picked off without a chance of escape or telling the tale. By the time those of us who could have fought realized what was happening, it was too late. Our brethren were already gone and we stood against the Veil like lone sentinels, spewing the truth to an unhearing world.”
“If the men were trained to fight, how were the Sanctuary’s mages able to overpower them?” wondered Amelie.
“Good question,” acknowledged Jasper. “The most powerful mage, a skilled blademaster, the best archer, they all have to sleep. No matter what skills you achieve, one person can never stop an army. The moment your eyes close, a blade in the night will find your heart. Rather than fighting an unwinnable fight, we went into hiding, the two-dozen or so skilled men who were left standing. Over the years, most of the original group have passed away or been killed. New mages have come along, either teaching themselves the art or learning as an apprentice. It’s never enough though. Including who I know and those I don’t, I’d estimate there aren’t more than a dozen capable male practitioners in Alcott today.”
“Trained as an apprentice?” asked Ben, wide-eyed.
Jasper snorted. “I know what you’re thinking, boy. Unfortunately, you don’t have time for that. I could teach you the basics after several months. That might be worthwhile. Maybe get you competent after a couple of years. True skill takes decades though. If you intend to do as you say, go to Irrefort and find the Purple, you don’t have months to spare.”
Ben frowned.
“I’m helping you, girl,” Jasper said to Amelie, “because you already have a rudimentary understanding of some concepts. In a few weeks while we’re travelling, maybe I can help refine that understanding into something worthwhile, something dangerous.”
Amelie blinked and swallowed. Obviously, the ease with which Jasper took down the arch-demon was stuck in her mind.
Jasper sighed and turned back to Ben. “There is one thing I can do to help you. Tomorrow, we’ll go to my workshop and I’ll fashion you a device, something even you can use.”
The next morning, Ben watched as Jasper sawed through the log of anima-wood.
“You’re unskilled,” remarked the mage as he set a tiny-toothed handsaw against the smooth wood.
Ben snorted, but Jasper ignored him.
Continuing, the mage added, “Despite that, I can fashion a simple device that even you can make use of. I thought about it last night, and you already have a weapon. I’ll make you something else. It will work similar to the way you use your sword. It is unintelligent force like when you called the wind. With skill, you could make full use of that blade, but for now, we’ll make do with what you’re capable of.”
Ben’s eyebrows shot higher. “What do you mean full use?”
Jasper glanced up from the log of anima-wood. “The sword serves as a channel for your will. Think of the frozen waterfall and the tunnel we followed underground. When it’s not frozen, the water falls. It is directionless. It flows down the path of least resistance. The tunnel channels it. When the water flows down the tunnel, it has direction. It has purpose. It fills the underground lake. Your will is like that water. Without focus, it is directionless. There is no telling where it will take you. With training, concentration, and practice, you can control that will and utilize it to enact change in the world.”
“And the sword does…” Ben trailed off. He wasn’t sure what Jasper was getting at.
“It helps focus your will into a tangible effect,” answered the mage, “wind, in your case.”
Jasper sighed and laid down the handsaw. He scratched at the back of his neck, obviously struggling to put his thoughts into layman’s terms.
“Wind is a near limitless source of energy,” explained the mage. “It’s around us all of the time, even when we do not feel it. It has no established direction though, just constant motion. It is a force looking for a place to go. Because of that, it is one of the easiest things to manipulate as you are not changing its physical properties, you are just redirecting. When you first used the sword, you must have had a powerful need and had the desire to do something about it.”
Ben nodded and laid a hand on his sword. “I was about to be overrun by demons. It’s fair to say I desired to not be eaten.”
Jasper grinned. “You exerted your will and created a tangible effect, and the sword helped you do it. You took energy that was powerful, directionless, and gave it a push.”
“That sounds like something a mage would do,” replied Ben.
“It is something a mage would do,” agreed Jasper, “but just like a child isn’t a warrior the first time they pick up a stick and swing at an imaginary enemy, you are not a mage.”
Ben frowned. “The demons didn’t think it was a little stick.”
Jasper retrieved his saw and went back to work on the anima-wood. “Of course. What I meant is that the child has a stick but not the warrior’s skill, and you do not have a mage’s skill. That doesn’t mean you can’t swing a stick every now and then. The sword helped you channel your will to do that. This disc will do the same.”
Ben leaned closer as the
mage finished sawing off a circular slice of wood from the rest of the log. It was as wide as Ben’s hand and the width of one of his fingers.
“I’ll be able to make the wind blow with it?” he asked quizzically.
“You’ll be able to release a burst of healing energy,” replied the mage. “Living organisms have the ability to grow and heal. Like the wind, it is a natural force that is always there but unfocused. I will charge this device and store energy within it. I’ll carve runes on it that, when activated, can channel your will into directing the energy for healing. When charged sufficiently, it will be like two-week’s rest happens in the course of a minute.”
Ben’s jaw dropped open. “That sounds amazing.”
Jasper winked. “It is amazing. Storing this energy is only possible with a substance like the anima-wood. Only a very skilled mage, such as myself, has the knowledge to carve the runes. In fact, maybe only I am left alive with that knowledge. I could sell the device for at least one hundred gold coins if I could find the right buyer.”
“One hundred gold! That is too generous,” protested Ben. “I can’t take that from a friend!”
Shrugging, Jasper responded, “What would I do with the coins? My biggest purchases are domesticated animals and ale. I have more than enough coin, but I’m currently short on friends. I’d give up any amount of gold to have those friends back.”
Ben winced, remembering the bodies they’d buried the day before.
Jasper sighed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that to come out so harshly.”
“I can’t imagine what it is like to return and find your home like that,” consoled Ben.
Jasper walked across his workshop and retrieved a slender chisel and a tiny hammer.
“Can I have a few moments alone?” asked the mage. His voice was thick, and the man’s body was taut with tension.
Ben nodded. “I’ll go see if Amelie needs help with dinner. Call for us if there is anything I can do to help.”
Jasper bent to his work and Ben quietly left the workshop.
7
How to Throw a Fireball
“Proximity.”
Amelie nodded, listening intently to the mage.
“The mages of the Sanctuary have forgotten that lesson. You can use that to your advantage,” explained Jasper.
Ben hiked half a dozen paces behind the two practitioners. He was listening as well. They were travelling across the smooth floor of Jasper’s valley, halfway between his home and the lake. They walked underneath soaring pine trees along a barely discernable path, hidden from far-seeing eyes.
Jasper’s sonorous voice continued, drifting to Ben’s ears with the ease of the wind blowing through the trees. “When you are proximate to your opponent, you can establish physical contact. With that contact, it is much easier to extend your will into another person and, of course, more difficult for them to harden their will and stop you.”
“It’s easier for them to touch you as well though, right?” challenged Amelie.
Jasper chuckled. “It is. When you know it will come to a fight, be aggressive and strike first. Against mages of the Sanctuary, that is your advantage. The way the Sanctuary teaches combat is risk averse. They want to stay back and loathe getting their hands dirty. They fling lightening and avoid real engagement. But combat is real. It’s physical. You are trying to damage someone and they are trying to damage you. If you’re worried about the risk, then you shouldn’t be in the fight in the first place. If you understand that difference, between how the Sanctuary wants to fight and how you are able to fight, then you can defeat them even if they are naturally stronger than you. If you face another mage, it is not a theoretical classroom exercise. It is life and death. Battles between mages rarely end any other way. You must take every advantage you can get.”
Jasper ducked under a low-hanging pine branch. “When you’re close to someone, you have options. You have choices other than just trying to overcome them with your will, which you may not be able to do against a fully trained mage. When you are close, you can punch them in the mouth, stab them with your dagger, or throw dirt in their eye. Your magic and your will are two of the most powerful tools you have, but they aren’t your only tools. Use everything you can.”
Ben grinned. Jasper may not like Rhys, but his discussion of combat strategy was nearly identical. When Rhys finally agreed to train Ben, he emphasized one point above all others. Fight dirty.
“Punch them in the mouth?” questioned Amelie.
Jasper chuckled. “Think about it this way. If you are unlucky enough to fight a mage, you are fighting them, not just fighting them with magic. If you can use your magic to defeat them, that is great. If you defeat them with your fists, that is just as great. Your goal, your only goal, is to survive.”
Ahead of them, Ben saw a stream break the continuity of the pine forest.
“Stop there for the night?” he asked, gesturing ahead.
“Looks good to me,” responded Jasper.
The air was cool, but in the protected valley, it wasn’t the bitter chill they’d faced elsewhere in the northern winter. With a decent fire and a thick bed roll, sleeping outside wouldn’t be unpleasant. They set to work, Amelie scuffing out a simple fire pit, Ben collecting wood, and Jasper laying out ingredients for dinner.
When they got the fire started, the mage suggested to Ben and Amelie, “Why don’t you two practice the sword while I cook?”
“For someone who is supposed to be teaching me magic, you talk an awfully lot about using fists and blades,” declared Amelie.
Jasper shrugged. “You should regularly practice both, magic and the blade. When you need it, you don’t want to be rusty at either one.”
“Come on,” called Ben, drawing his longsword. “Don’t get lazy on me just because you have magical powers.”
Ben and Amelie sparred at half-speed. They focused on refreshing the motions rather than the speed and violence needed in a real contest.
Amelie lunged at Ben, thrusting with her rapier. Ben easily parried and riposted, his longsword stabbing toward his friend. She caught it with her dagger but failed to turn the heavier blade. Ben arrested his attack and pulled back. Frustrated, Amelie swished her rapier back and forth before resetting.
“That was good,” encouraged Jasper.
Amelie raised an eyebrow at the mage. If Ben hadn’t stopped himself, he could have easily skewered his friend.
“You caught his blade with the dagger,” explained Jasper. “It was the right motion, but you didn’t use enough force. In magical terms, you had the knowledge to counter his attack but not the will to stop it. You held back. It’s always knowledge and will. When you want to turn that blade enough, you can gather the will and strength to do so.” The mage instructed, “Try it again.”
Ben and Amelie squared off, and again, he thrust at half speed.
Just like before, Amelie easily caught the longsword with her dagger, but the small blade wasn’t enough to turn Ben’s sword.
“Again,” demanded Jasper.
Amelie grunted and glared at him. They did the sequence again with the same results.
“Again.”
Amelie didn’t bother to look at the mage this time, just reset and waited for Ben’s attack.
“Again.”
Snarling, Amelie shuffled her feet, trying to get a position she’d have more leverage with the dagger.
“Again.”
Ben thrust and just like before, had to stop his blade before he hit his friend. He could feel Amelie straining against it, but he knew giving in and letting her brush it aside wouldn’t do her any good. That would just give her a false sense of confidence if she were in a real sword fight.
“Ben’s practiced for months longer than me and with a blademaster,” complained Amelie. “His sword is much larger than my dagger and he’s stronger. This is ridiculous.”
“He’s stronger than you,” observed Jasper, “but you are not trying to arm wrestle him or pick
up a big rock. You are merely trying to edge his blade away from you. Again.”
Ben and Amelie squared off. Over and over, Ben attacked. Amelie’s face twisted with anger, but he knew it wasn’t directed at him. She was angry at Jasper and herself.
Jasper stood and watched them, no longer needing to request another try. Occasionally, out of the corner of her eye, Amelie glared at him. Ben could tell she was tiring, her parries growing weaker and weaker.
“You have to want it,” encouraged Jasper. “You are just going through the motions. Will that the blade turns!”
Tears of frustration were forming in the corners of Amelie’s eyes. Ben wanted to stop, but she set herself again, raising her rapier and dagger to meet his attack. Ben thrust with his longsword. Just like before, Amelie swept her dagger up to meet it.
The small blade met his sword and Ben felt an incredible pressure on the side of the weapon. He tensed his arms but couldn’t stop the lateral force. His sword was pushed away. Surprised, he stumbled off balance.
Amelie stood rooted, staring at Ben’s longsword as it scraped along the edge of her dagger, a hand’s width to her side. Without speaking, Jasper returned to the fire and turned the spit he’d erected over it. A fat rabbit sizzled as a new side was exposed to the fire.
“How did you do that?” wondered Ben. It felt like a good-sized warrior had just brushed his blade away.
“I, I don’t know,” stuttered Amelie, just as surprised as Ben at the strength she’d suddenly displayed.
“You willed it,” commented Jasper, “just like you willed Creegan to heal and the stone to come alight while we were in the tunnel. Anything is possible if you have the will to make it happen.”
Ben found the hike through Jasper’s valley to be pleasant. The last several weeks, they’d been battling snowstorms, bitter cold, and deep, dark tunnels. The crisp pine-scented air of the valley was a welcome change.
Jasper kept them busy though. For Amelie, he constantly challenged her knowledge of magic, taking what the Sanctuary taught her and adding new wrinkles to it. To Ben’s ear, he was making it more practical. At the Sanctuary, she’d learned in a classroom or a laboratory. With Jasper, she learned in the world. When he wanted to talk about the properties of light, he pointed to the sun. When he wanted to explain chemical changes, he picked up a handful of snow from behind a tree and let it melt. When he wanted to teach her combat, he squared off against her.