Forgotten Mage

by D. W. Jackson

  “What?” she said, her face clearly showing her shock. “Do you think you will be better than me just because who your father is? I promise you that if you make this deal, I won’t let you back out of it later.”

  “It’s nothing like that. I just agree that I shouldn’t get it just because of who my father was. As long as my sister doesn’t get it along with the Farlan throne, I will be happy,” Bren said, surprising himself.

  Isophena opened a door at the far end of the hall. “This is your room, you don’t have a roommate yet, but I wouldn’t get used to being alone. With another bout of admissions coming, you are sure to find yourself with one soon,” she said loudly. “And, you can call me Phena. All the others do,” Phena said before shutting the door.

  Throwing his pack in the corner of the room, Bren collapsed on the soft bed. He was glad that Phena seemed to be warming to him, but he was also worried about what he had told her. Was he so set on his sister not getting a place at the mages table that he would offer it to someone outside of the family? He was sure that was not what his father would want, but he still didn’t want her to have it. He knew that part of himself was being selfish, but he also believed what his swordsmanship instructor had told him. “Try as they might, no man or woman can have two lives. In the end, they must make a choice.” At the time, the instructor was talking about Bren’s desire to combine his swordplay with his magic once he had it under control. The man had been adamant that you might use both to some degree, but you could never master both at once since they both took immense concentration to use correctly.

  Stretching out his right arm, Bren looked at his hand and the pale silver scar that ran the back of it. He couldn’t prove it, but each time he had used magic without meaning to, it had come from his right hand and he had a feeling that the scar played a part in it. There was no proof, it was just a feeling, but Bren had been taught to trust what he felt.

  That night as he slept, Bren once again found himself drifting in the darkness. He had fought against it the night before due to the anger and coldness that he felt within its depths, but tonight it felt different. Almost as if it was sad. Bren let the darkness fold around him and when it cleared, he found himself standing in his father’s workshop.

  “Bren is that you?” He heard his mother’s voice say from behind him. Then suddenly, he was wrapped up in her strong arms. “We haven’t received word in so long, I was starting to fear the worst,” She said, as tears ran down her face dripping onto Bren’s arms as he tried to untangle himself from her grasp. “Where have you been?” She asked, allowing him to escape her clutch.

  “I was traveling,” Bren said, feeling slightly ashamed of himself as he saw his mother’s red puffy eyes.

  Was?” She asked, using the palm of her hand to wipe away the tears that still trickled down her cheek. “Where are you now?”

  “Safe,” Bren replied hesitantly. He felt bad about making his mother worry, but he knew that the second she learned his location, she would send a troop of guards to bring him home and he was not ready for that. “I don’t want to come home mother. Once everything is belter, I will tell you where I am at, but for now can you just trust me?”

  “Bren Thaddeus Farlane, you will tell me where you are at this instant!” Maria said, her voice quickly switching from tearful to anger, in the time it took to take a breath.

  “If I do, you will just send the guards to take me home,” Bren replied stubbornly.

  “Of course I will!” Maria said, stamping her foot on the ground. “Home is where you belong. You are not old enough to be off on your own yet.”

  “I am fourteen mother.” Bren started to protest, but one look from his mother silenced him.

  “Fourteen or forty, I am your mother young man and I demand to know where you are this instant!” Maria exclaimed, her voice raising to a near scream.

  Bren knew that when his mother got like this, there was nothing to do but hide and wait for it to pass. Focusing his mind, Bren tried to push the dream away, but his mother quickly figured out his plan and he was pulled back in. “I have been doing this far longer than you have, so don’t even try. Not even your father could leave unless I allowed him to.”

  Bren closed his eyes tightly and tried again, putting everything he had into the effort. He could hear his mother yelling at him, but it quickly grew lighter and when Bren opened his eyes, he was once again in his room in the Mage’s Tower. He was drenched in sweat and the scar on his hand didn’t look as faint as it had before.

  After wiping down and a change of night shirts, Bren once again laid down to rest. Now he knew what the darkness was and he made a mental note to avoid it for the foreseeable future.

  CHAPTER IX

  Bren found his first morning at the Tower to be as unpleasant as the night before had been. Phena, who was none too happy about the choice, had been tasked with showing him and Faye around the facilities. Before they had even finished breakfast, the young vathari had insulted them more time than Bren could count. Bren hoped that Phena calmed down soon, because the look Faye was giving her smelled of trouble.

  As soon as they finished eating, Phena escorted them throughout the Tower. There were numerous class rooms for group study and just as many small ones for individual use, though Phena explained that you still had to have an arch mages approval to use them. “Most of the time, it is only the upper level students that use them in order to practice more dangerous magic,” Phena explained, as she ushered them toward the other end of the Tower.

  Most of the places Phena took them to were common things that Bren was used to seeing. The only place that really caught his attention was the massive library. It looked like a maze, as rows upon rows of long shelves filled the room, each one hosting more books than Bren had ever seen in one place. The palace library and the library at the Royal School had been large, but compared to the vast number of books that he now looked upon, they seemed puny by comparison.

  “Are these all about magic?” Bren asked, as he ran his fingers along the spines of the books as they walked past.

  “No,” Phena answered, her tone still cold and unyielding. “If you haven’t learned by now, I might as well tell you. You can’t just wave your hand and do something with magic. You need to understand how it works. Not just to use it, but to use it in the manner you want. If you were to create a large fireball in one of the halls for instance, what do you think would happen?”

  “It would burn,” Faye answered, her voice unsure though still holding her usual sharp edge of pride.

  “Not for long it wouldn’t,” Phena replied snidely. “Fire requires air to burn and it would quickly exhaust that supply, being surrounded by magic fused rocks. Once the air was gone, no one would be able to breath, but neither could the fire. Fire might not be living, but it acts in much the same manner. If you don’t understand how your magic interacts with the world around you, then you will either wind up getting yourself or someone else killed.”

  As Phena stomped off back toward the stairs, Bren and Faye were forced to quicken their pace to catch up. After the night before, Bren had hoped that Phena would treat them a bit more kindly, but that had seemed to be wishful dreaming on his part. The vathari mage seemed as spiteful and full of anger as she had been at their first meeting.

  As they neared the bottom of the steps leading into the main foyer of the Tower, Phena turned on her two followers. “I am sure that you can explore the rest without my aid,” She said angrily.

  “What is your problem?” Faye said, grabbing Phena by the shoulder as her temper broke.

  “I don’t know about you two, but I have much better things to do with my time than pamper a prince,” Phena responded, slapping Faye’s hand away. “And I suggest you…,”

  Phena never got the change to finish her sentence. Faye’s fist caught her squarely in the nose, sending the much taller woman to the ground. Phena wiped her nose with the back of her hand. She looked almost shocked at the bright red smear. Bren
thought Phena might use some devastating magic, but instead the vathari mage tackled Faye.

  As the two rolled around on the ground, Bren was left standing on the side of the hall completely shocked. All the young man could do was watch as the larger Phena pinned Faye to the ground using her knees to hold down Faye’s arms. “At least I don’t have to worry about messing up a pretty face,” Phena said as she delivered a healthy blow to Faye’s defenseless face, which was quickly followed by another.

  For a moment, Bren started to step forward to help Faye, but then the young farm girl disappeared. Surprised by her now invisible foe, Phena was thrown to the ground, but quickly recovered to her feet. “I’ll take that as a complement coming from a saw tooth trollop,” Bren heard Faye’s voice say before Phena fell to the ground, her hand quickly moving up to her cheek where a nasty red whelp was already forming.

  “Is that how you want to play?” Phena asked, getting back to her feet and spreading her fingers. Small blue shimmers arched across the tips of the mage’s fingers.

  As he watched the escalating fight, he decided it had moved well out of control and stepped forward to stop it before someone was permanently injured. He wasn’t sure where Faye was at so Bren stepped in front of Phena, holding his arms out wide. “Phena you need to…”

  “Bren’s words were drowned out as he felt something nudge him from behind. Off balance, he fell forward and Phena stretched out her hands, her still glowing palms catching him in the chest. The next few moments became a haze to Bren until he found himself laying on the ground, his body twitching uncontrollably. He tried to speak but nothing seemed to work.

  As his body spasmed, Bren heard Phena huff which was quickly followed by her heavy footsteps as she stomped down the hall away from him. Faye walked into his view and for a brief moment, he was sure that she was going to help him until he noticed the deep frown and look of anger etched in her face. “Mind your own business!” She said, before leaving him still twitching on the ground.

  As the worst of the pain subsided, Bren tried to stand, but his muscles still didn’t work properly. “She has got some bite to her,” A deep voice said from beside him as he was lifted to his feet. Turning his head, Bren noticed a young man in his early twenties with short brown hair and grey eyes. “My father always said that dealing with women was one battle no man could hope to win, they could only pray they survived,” The man said with a brash grin.

  “I think your father might have been a genius,” Bren said through gritted teeth.

  “A lot of people have said that, by the way I’m Cassius, though most the other guys just call me Cass.”

  Bren pulled back from Cass’s hold and steadied himself. He body still jerked slightly and everything tingled as if it had been asleep. “I am Bren,” He replied, trying to give a courteous bow that came out jerky and unrefined.

  “Why don’t we get out of this den of magic and go a place where men don’t have to wear dresses,” Cass said, before giving Bren a sly wink. “I like your sword, it looks as if it is well made,” Cass continued as they walked out of the Tower and through the streets of the town.

  “It was my fathers,” Bren replied, his hand brushing over the crescent moon that adorned the sword’s hilt.

  “My people always believed that a sword is one of the few possessions that should be passed along to future generation. My sister has eyed my fathers for a long time, though the way he holds onto it, I am sure that he will carry it to his grave,” Cass said laughing.

  Bren was led to a large set of building that reminded him of the barracks that housed the Royal Guard. Outside of the buildings were dozens of stone circles covering a massive field. “Jacob, we have a new recruit,” Cass hollered over to a large balding man, who stood outside one of the stone circles, as two men inside it sparred. At least Bren was sure they were sparring. It looked far more intense than anything he had ever witnessed before. The men shifted and moved with grace, and each strike was made with great precision at high speeds. Bren could hear Jacob yelling out mistakes, though Bren himself could find none in the other men’s movements.

  Jacob yelled at the two men to continue their training and walked over to where Cass stood with Bren. The older man looked over Bren intensely then gave an approving nod. “A bit younger than most the applicants this year, but he’s got the build of a fighter. Cassius, grab two practice swords and let us see what your new friend can do.”

  Cass ran off immediately, but quickly returned carrying three swords. The sword that was given to Bren felt and looked like a standard long sword. Bren was amazed at the detail and weight of what the man had called practice weapons. Bren shrugged his shoulders, and stepped into the center of the stone circle.

  Bren watched Cass closely as he twirled his duel short swords in his hands. Bren could tell by the way Cass moved and held himself that he was confident and skilled. Bren wasn’t sure how skilled, so he decided to play it safe and wait for an opening instead of jumping in.

  Cass didn’t seem as cautious as Bren and moved in fast with a quick forward thrust. Sliding his outside foot back, Bren let the sword pass and quickly brought his other foot around to reset his position. Cass nodded his head at Bren, then came in again, this time both swords sticking at different angles. Bren once again slid back and to the side, letting one word strike only inches in front of him while he swung his sword down and to the left parrying the other blow.

  Though using two swords, Cass moved quickly and with precision, never leaving any part of himself open for more than a heartbeat. The third attack, Cass struck hard with his right, while sweeping at Bren’s feet with the left. With a practiced step, Bren once again pivoted on his foot, letting one sword pass harmlessly by as he knocked the other away from his body.

  Cass drove in for the fourth time, acting as if to do a repeat of the same move, this time though his offhand sword aiming for Bren’s head. Unconcerned, Bren repeated his past movements, allowing his legs to do most of the work, but as he pivoted to the right, Cass spun on the tip of his toe and brought his lead foot around, striking Bren hard in the side.

  Bren gasped as the breath was knocked from his lungs, but refused to go down. Bren watched as the tip of his sword seemed to disappear into Cass’s shoulder, leaving a bright red glow where it had struck. Confused, Bren didn’t react in time as Cass drove in again. He quickly knocked one sword away, but the other drove straight into his chest.

  Looking down, Bren was amazed to see Cass’s hand holding the hilt of the sword as it protruded from his chest. He felt a warm sensation rush over his body as his whole body began to glow a bright red. It was an eerie feeling, seeing the blade removed from his body, and Bren quickly ran his hand where he had been stuck to find no sign of damage. His knees buckled and Bren fell to the ground laughing.

  “Not bad, you have had some training, but your movements are a bit too predictable,” Jacob said, his eyes focused on Bren. “A few years of good training and you might even be able to petition the king to let you join the official Katanaga forces.”

  Bren’s eyes opened wide with surprise. Everyone knew who the Katanaga forces were, even the vathari, a race who prided themselves on war, respected them as warriors. “I can’t sir,” Bren stuttered, mentally kicking himself as the words came out of his mouth.

  “Why would that be?” Jacob asked, his face quickly turning angry.

  “Sir….I am supposed to train in the Tower for the next few years,” Bren replied, his mouth almost choking on the words under the sword masters stern glare.

  “I see, then I will have to talk with your master,” Jacob said, his eyes never leaving Bren’s. “Well come on, what is the man’s name?” Jacob asked, nearly yelling when Bren continued to remain speechless.

  “Sae-Thae,” Bren finally said as Jacob moved closer. The imposing older man stared down at him as if he were nothing more than a babe fresh off the tit.

  Jacob flashed a toothy grin and quickly raised his arm, prompting Bren to flinch.
The older man laughed as he slapped his hand down hard onto Bren’s shoulder. “Sae-Thae, then you must show some promise in magic as well. I am sure that he and I can come to an arrangement. It’s not the first time a mage student has taken courses from our instructors.”

  Bren went to make a reply, but a grey blur flashed in front of him bearing Jacob to the ground. Surprised, both Bren and Cass turned to look at the weapon master as he tussled on the ground with the large Avalanche. “Avalanche stop,” Bren said, grabbing the creature by the neck and twisting so that it rolled off the instructor.

  Rolling back to her feet, Avalanche gave a loud rumbling bark and bounced around the stone ring. “I am sorry…” Bren started to apologize, but Jacob simply laughed and patted Avalanche on the head.

  “So, you must be Master Torin’s son,” Jacob said, still laughing. “No wonder you know how to handle a blade. Should have realized it earlier seeing that you’re carrying his sword, not to mention you look a great deal like your father, though a bit more on the girly side in the face.”

  “Thank you,” Bren said, not sure if he was getting complemented or insulted.

  “Cassius, see our new friend back to the Mage’s Tower, and make sure you take the pile of rubble with you,” Jacob added jokingly.

  Cass remained silent as he led Bren away from the training grounds and back toward the Mage’s Tower. As soon as the large wall of the compound was out of sight, Cass looked over at Bren and gave him an apologetic look. “I could have sworn from the way you carried yourself that you were here to apply for the martial school, not the Tower,” The young fighter said, his voice tense and sounding somewhat apologetic. “I guess being the master mage Torin’s son, you would have to attend the Tower though. I’m sorry, I don’t think you will find your future very much fun.”