Inexperienced Mage (Reawakening Saga)

by Jackson, D. W.

  As the guard came with a strong underhand slice, Mark bounced on his toes, letting the force of the blow help carry him, as he flipped backwards. Mark landed hard on his back but ignored the pain and quickly rolled his shoulders allowing him to jump up and backwards to his feet. The guard gave him an appraising look as Mark began slowly backing away giving himself more room and keeping his sword up in case the guard decided to press the attack. But the huge man seemed content with waiting for Mark to make his next move.

  The guard made no move to close the distance he simply stood ready, waiting to see what Mark would do. Mark steeled his nerves, sat his feet and ran at the guard with everything he had. At the last moment, Mark went into a slide, slinging himself right between the guard’s legs. He had hoped to get a strike at the guard’s exposed legs but was moving too fast and just didn’t have the time or maneuverability to do it.

  Coming up quickly he struck but was disappointed as the captain of the guard deftly held his sword over his head blocking the blow. The guard swung around bringing his lead foot behind Mark’s and shoved him with his shoulder. His sword moved around at the same time snapping at Mark’s wrist causing Mark’s blade to fly from his hand and planting him hard in the dirt. Mark let out a silent stream of curses as he looked up at the victor whose face remained indifferent as he held out his hand to the defeated offering to help him to his feet.

  Keeping his head lowered, Mark limped his way back to his position on the stage. Looking around the crowd as best he could, he noticed many of the ladies staring at him. They were chatting eagerly, ever so often pointing in his direction. Mark didn’t know why, but the attention of the crowd made him feel lighter, making it impossible to keep a small smile from playing at the corner of his lips.

  The first four students were sold for hefty purses Saru going for fourteen hundred gold. Far too soon, Mark found himself standing on the auction block. His stomach knotted as the price got higher and higher. It quickly rose to over two thousand gold pieces until finally the queen stood and made a bid of thirty-five hundred gold pieces - an unheard of amount for a slave. Mark could hear audible gasps from the audience at the amount and he was quickly ushered off stage, and chained as was custom until he was properly branded.

  His chains were soon handed over to a much too eager princess. “Mother said you will be an early birthday present. She said I can’t have you right away because you still have to be properly branded and trained for palace formalities. But soon you’ll be my private guard, isn’t it exciting!” The young princess rattled on so fast giving him no chance to make an attempt at a reply.

  Her voice, while lovely, caused his head to throb as he tried to keep up with the rapid pace she was speaking. His mind was in utter chaos, and was more than slightly relived when an elderly gentleman removed him from the princess and escorted him to a small carriage.

  While they were walking the old man chuckled. “The little miss has been begging for her mother to purchase you ever since they came out of the display room and her pleads became even more persistent after your fight with Bren. Now we will be leaving soon,” the old man said letting out another small chuckle, “Well as soon as it takes the queen and her retinue to prepare for travel. On the way back to the capital you will ride and bunk with me so that I may begin your training in palace protocols. Don’t get too excited it will be boring and tedious and it is more for the fact the princess will most likely be badgering the queen until you are ready, so to save her a few headaches we shall try and prepare you as fast as possible.”

  The old man opened the carriage door for Mark and helped him climb in. It was not an easy task chained as he was. Once inside the carriage the old man sat across from him and held out his hand which Mark took absentmindedly. “First introductions, I know who you are Master Mark and while I would love to give you the long introduction of my titles, I will forgo you that punishment. For now you may call me Kris. Now before we begin I would like to know if you have any questions so that I may clear up anything that might be troubling you.”

  “When will I be branded sir? I’m not overly found of chains.”

  “Sadly you will have to wait until we reach the capitol. The queen is quite insistent on your mark and as custom dictates, since you are the property of the princess and not the queen, you will have a separate marking. When the princess chooses what her personal crest shall be, it will be tattooed on your forehead. I don’t think it will take her long to choose. She seemed quite eager if truth be told. I won’t lie to you, it isn’t a pleasant experience. Let’s just hope the princess isn’t too enthusiastic in her choosing.”

  The first day of travel was slow and uncomfortable. Every bump made his backside remember his sparring with Bren. His chains chafed at his wrists and ankles. Every few hours they would stop and Kris would help him outside so he could stretch and relieve himself. That night they stayed at a nice inn and Mark shared a room with the old servant who continuously went over what would be expected of him and making him repeat what he was told until he could do it verbatim without conscious thought. After the day’s grueling events Mark was more than happy when the lights went off and he could finally lie down to sleep in what was easily the nicest bed in which he had ever slept.

  The next day started with a hearty breakfast containing the largest collection of food he had ever seen. Though he still didn’t want to give up hope and resign himself to being a slave, there was little chance of escape with the level of guards around him. But if he had to be a slave, being one in the employ of the royal family didn’t seem so bad.

  The next day continued much as the day before with Kris going over the many palace procedures he would have to follow, focusing specifically on those surrounding the princess. “Right now you will be the only dedicated guard she has but in the future you will be required to train others as well. Back to the main point - your job is to not only provide her service but also be her confidant. Anything you see or hear while in her presence is confidential. Not even the queen is privy to them. If the choice arises, your honor and duty might send you to the headsman’s block. That rarely happens as you will just be following protocol, but it has happened in the past.”

  Suddenly, while Kris was droning on, the carriage went out of control jostling about and finally slamming to a stop throwing Mark and the old man painfully onto the floor. Mark could hear voices outside yelling, “Protect the queen!” Soon the sound of steel ringing on steel echoed outside. As quickly as he could, Mark got to his feet and went to help Kris who was lying unmoving on the floor.

  After a quick check he breathed a sigh of relief. The old man was still alive though unconscious with a nasty looking bump on his skull. Once certain his companion was no worse for wear, Mark kicked the carriage door open with his shackled legs - a feat that took several tries.

  Outside the fighting was fierce and Mark could not see the queen’s coach anywhere in sight. The royal guard had most likely gotten her away as fast as the bulky thing would move. Neither could Mark see any of the royal guard but only the regular soldiers that traveled with her as an added escort. Useless, chained as he was, and no one paying much attention to him, Mark decided it prudent to hide in the nearby forest.

  Once inside the dark canopy of the wood Mark sat down beside a large oak tree and took stock of his situation. With no mark of ownership and as long as no one came looking for him before he could get his shackles, off he would be free. As a man he wouldn’t have many rights but he would have his freedom, which alone was worth the entire world to him - a dream he never truly believed would come true.

  As the noise died off Mark nearly fainted when he heard the tell-tell sounds of people moving toward him through the foliage. Soon the sounds of talking could be heard in the distance. At first the words were undecipherable but after a few seconds the brigands came close enough to be understood. “Dammit Pete! We’re shit fire lucky the royal guard ran off with that coach! We’d been slaughtered if they had joined in the fi
ght for any period of time. Did you see that one big’un? He cut through Tom and Lewis like they weren’t nuthin‘,” growled a ruff voice.

  “I hear ya Chad. We lost near half our number with naught to show fer it. Good fer ‘im, Lewis bought the farm or I’d gut ‘im myself! Twas his durn fool idea to go after ‘em in the first place. Best we can do now is head back to camp and keep our heads down fer a good span.”

  Hearing footsteps on the forest floor, Mark realized they were headed in his direction! When they were close enough for him to hear their ragged breath, his heart beat so hard he was sure they would hear it.

  Fear held him in his concealed spot long after they were gone. He stayed unmoving until he noticed night was coming quickly. He knew he would have to find shelter or his first night of freedom might be his last.

  Walking through the dense forest was slow. His leg shackles leaving him little room for movement and catching often on roots and low handing branches. After a few hours he could make out what appeared to be a crumbling house in the distance. As he got closer Mark nearly tripped over a moss-covered stone wall. Looking around he noticed it wasn’t just a house but a small village lost to time. He made his way carefully toward the only building that looked as if it had survived the decay.

  He couldn’t tell what the building been used before it was deserted and left to the ravages of the elements. It was circular so he figured it might have once been a grain silo. The top of the building had caved in and the door was missing. He hoped the old structure would still offered some form of protection from the elements. Once inside he noticed the building was bare, most likely picked over many times in the years it had sat deserted.

  As he made his way across the floor he could hear a soft groaning coming from the ground below him. Looking down at his feet then back around the room he could see no stairway leading down and it didn’t make sense to him to have a basement without a way to get to it. Suddenly all his pondering was worthless as the floor gave way dumping him into the room below.

  Mark let out a loud yell as he landed hard on the floor. One of the stones from the floor above landed on his leg sending added pain though his already bruised and battered body. To make matters worse, his fall had stirred decades of dust that filled the room and his lungs causing him to cough uncontrollably.

  Moving the stone from his leg, he carefully examined where it had landed. After he was sure it wasn’t broken, he tried to stand, which was made extremely difficult by the shifting of the rubble under him.

  Even after the dust began to settle, it was still too dark to make anything out in the room. Mark carefully made his way on his hands and knees until he found a clear spot on the floor and laid down. The air was slightly cold and the floor was hard but little of that seemed to matter at the moment. He had no energy left, so Pushing his worries and discomfort aside, he let sleep overtake him.

  Chapter II

  Mark was awoken by a stray beam of sunlight that drifted across his face. Sitting up, he began to stretch. His body was wracked with aches and pains from the various beatings the day before had given him. Squinting and rubbing his eyes, his vision slowly began to clear as he surveyed his surroundings.

  The walls were lined with what he figured were once bookshelves. In the center of the room stood what Mark was sure had once been a worktable. Now it was nothing more than a jumble of wood and stone. Looking up he could see the hole he had fallen through. It wasn’t too high but with his shackles on, there was no way for him to crawl back outside. His only hope was to find something to help him escape his bonds or he would slowly die of hunger.

  Mark made his way to the nearest bookshelf. Most of the books had long since rotted away to dust and the ones left looked fragile. Amazingly there were a few that still looked as if time hadn’t touched them. After carefully making his way around the room he found four books and a dagger that had survived through the years. Everything else had fallen apart at his.

  Sitting on the ground, Mark began to use the dagger to attempt to cut through his shackles. He held little hope for succeeding but was pleasantly surprised to see the dagger was cutting through the hardened steel. It took quite a bit of effort but within the span of an hour, the shackles lay discarded in the corner of the room.

  Freed from his bonds, Mark carefully examined the dagger. He had never heard of a weapon that could cut steel. The hilt was silver, designed to look liked corded rope with two small sapphires at the ends of the crosspiece. Even more surprising, the blade was not marred in any way and still maintained a keen edge. The only answer he could think of was that it was magical. If that was true it was worth a small fortune.

  Excitement bubbled threw him. Magic had been lost or more to the point destroyed during the Fae Wars when Emperor Tremon had declared war on anything of magical existence. For over a hundred years the war raged on. Even after his death the order of knights he had created roamed the land killing mages and destroying any relics of magic that was found. From his understanding the Fae War was one of the reasons Farlan was now a Queendom.

  Mark quickly grabbed and opened the first book. Disappointment filled him as he stared at the pages written in an unknown language. He was pleased to find the second book was written in his own language. He started reading and was soon absorbed in the volume.

  It is the year twelve hundred and forty-six of the great empire. Emperor Tremon has declared war on all forms of magic. In the past forty years my brethren have been hunted down to near extinction mostly by items of our own creation. My brethren have a plan to destroy all magical items used by the emperor but the strain will most likely kill them. I was asked to help but instead I have hidden myself here in order to write this book in hopes that someday magic may once again be welcomed in the world.

  First you must know magic is present in all things in the energy of their essence. The ability to control and influence this energy is present in a limited number of humans. Like any skill, some are better equipped than others and even the most talented require training to perfect their use of magic. But be warned Magic is not a cure-all and, in its own right, is a dangerous beast to wield that will leave you dead if you do not take it seriously.

  There are two main types of magic that manifest within an individual - internal and external. Internal magic is the ability to absorb and manipulate magic into your body. This can be used to make one faster, stronger, and, for those mages of gift, can be used to shape-shift. External magic is the ability to manipulate magic in the outside world using the elements of wind, water, earth, fire, energy, nature, light, and dark. Most mages tend to have a strong affinity with two or three of these elements. Few mages have mastery of four or more elements and are considered very rare. Of even more rarity are those that can tap all eight elements equally. There are also sub subcategories of skills that few mages show the skills for such as magic smiths, enchanters, and alchemists. All magic smiths are enchanters but not all enchanters have the ability to manipulate metal, and alchemists are set aside from both.

  Mark wiped the sweat from his hands on his dirty tunic. He couldn’t believe it a book about magic. It took great effort and even then he could barely keep his hands from shaking as he turned the page.

  The next few pages contained abstracts and warnings regarding the ethical behavior that should be upheld as a mage. After searching for a bit, Mark found what he was looking for.

  The way the flow of magic is accessed varies from mage to mage. Some see magic as a river and divert it to their will. Others see it as the wind and shape it. The most important revelation is that one must be able to visualize the flow of magic within the mind in order to mold it to their needs.

  Find a comfortable spot, close your eyes and meditate to find the flow of magic and shape it into a light. If you are an internal magic user your hand will glow and as an external user a ball of light will appear before you. At first you may have to use a key phrase or gesture to help with your visualization. While these aids are not requir
ed, they can be useful to help your mind quickly visualize the spell you are performing and reducing the time and mental energy expended. Beware - it is advised that you use a dead language or one of your own devising. More than one mage has set his house ablaze by careless actions.

  Mark sat the book down and quickly leafed through the remaining two. One was a book on herbs and potions and the other was a book on the basics of enchanting. The book on enchantments made little sense to Mark but his basic understanding was it was an art of putting a permanent spell on an item. That enchanted item could then be used by anyone. While the books were interesting nether held his attention as other more important needs nagged at him.

  Taking one last look around the room, but found nothing else of use. with no reason to stay in the dusty basement, he carefully climbed his way out and back into the daylight. Though he was eager to try his hand at magic his first need was food as his stomach was already cramping and his head was light.

  Finding four fairly straight long sticks he sharpened each to a point, fashioning crude spears. As he stealthily made his way through the forest he spied two rabbits. Crouching, he readied the first spear. As the projectile left his grip, his spirits sank as both rabbits scampered off to safety. With his stomach cramping and about to give up hope on catching any live game, the sound of rolling water touched his ears.

  After a short search he found the source of the noise, a slow moving stream. As he moved closer Mark could see fish swimming in its shallow depths. Rolling up his tattered and dirty pant legs Mark waded into the water.

  No matter how he approached every time he stuck the fish were well gone before his makeshift spear reached them. After countless hours his Frustration bubbled over and Mark began stabbing wildly at the next fish that swam by. Cussing Mark threw his spear into the water as hard as he could a short distance in front of him. To his amazement the spear began to jump around wildly. Running over to his spear he found a large fish impaled on its end. Laughing wildly Mark collapsed in the water tears running freely from his eyes.