Stealing Sorcery

by Andrew Rowe

  Taelien glanced over at Velas. She caught his look, but just raised her eyebrows repeatedly, which probably was some kind of sexual innuendo. He wasn’t really clear on what she was specifically referring to – their near nudity, maybe? – but it was usually pretty safe to assume she was being lewd.

  At the moment, that was kind of comforting in its normalcy, so he raised his own eyebrows right back. She winked at him, grinned, and looked back toward the camp.

  I’m not sure exactly what happened there, but I was probably flirting.

  He tried not to think about that too much, and instead, inspected the camp further. There were over a dozen tents, which implied a significant population of paladins. The tents themselves varied in size and markings. While there were lookouts, none of them had the look of a high degree of alertness, which indicated they probably weren’t in an area that posed any actual danger.

  He didn’t see any candidates from other groups, but there were paladins with tabards from each order represented among those within the camp. A small group of Paladins of Eratar were cooking over a fire pit, and the smell of exotic spices made Taelien’s stomach growl.

  “Woah, hey, are you injured?” Caul was staring wide-eyed at Taelien’s side. His arm was covering most of the cut, but there was still a smear of blood visible. “That’s – we need to get you to the medic! Come here!”

  Caul redoubled his pace, heading toward a white tent marked with a symbol of the hand of Lissari. Taelien followed with a groan, Velas staying by his side.

  “The rest of you can head to that big tent over there – that’s where Garrick will be with you gear.” Caul pointed to a sky blue tent with a pennant embroidered with Eratar’s symbol standing vigil outside.

  “I’d really rather get my clothing first – I think the wound can wait.”

  Velas nudged him lightly. “Don’t be absurd, Sal. You need to get that looked at. Come on.”

  In truth, Taelien was much more concerned about his weapon than his clothes – modesty had never been a problem for him. Even if Velas did seem entirely too pleased by his present condition.

  He appreciated that when the others waved and turned away to get their equipment, Velas stayed by his side. That kind of loyalty earned her a lascivious glance or two.

  “Got a couple patients coming in.” Caul leaned down and lifted the flap that served as the tent’s front door, allowing Taelien and Velas to duck inside.

  The tent housed eight simple cots in two rows of four, each covered with clean white sheets. They were empty, save for the grey-haired man sitting atop the last cot on the left side. He looked up from his book with a hint of irritation on his face, which shifted toward confusion when he processed the intruders in his domain.

  “You’re paladin candidates.” He folded his arms across his chest. “How are you injured?”

  “Chain from one of those sentry constructs took a chunk out of my side. And I’m a little lightheaded from using metal sorcery.”

  “Don’t forget that you were also electrocuted.” Velas noted. “We both were.”

  “Played with your collars, did you?” The older man stood up, patting one of the cots. “Come sit down, I’ll take a look at you.” He glanced at Velas. “And you, miss? Why are you here?”

  “Wanted to make sure he actually told you all of his symptoms. Also,” she lifted up her hair and turned around, displaying a patch of scalded flesh on the back of her neck, “That collar hurt.”

  “Curious. I’ve never seen that effect from one of the collars – it shouldn’t be capable of outputting enough heat to injure you like that. I warned those idiots not to put a dominion bonded item into a test, but they – never mind. Sit on the next bed over, I’ll look at you next.”

  As the doctor approached, Taelien noted that the man was wearing civilian garb – he either wasn’t a paladin or he wasn’t in uniform for some reason. Taelien judged the former more likely, but he considered the possibility that the man simply wasn’t expecting to be a participant in the exercise.

  “Move your hand, son.”

  Taelien shifted his arm away from the wound. The doctor leaned in closer. “You said this was from one of the sentries?”

  The swordsman nodded. “Yes, sir.”

  “No sir for me, not anymore. This is no good. They should have shielded you before the test started – those constructs are vicious things. You’re lucky it only grazed you.”

  Lucky? More like fast. But he has a point.

  Velas sat down on her designated cot and leaned back against the tent wall. “I think he did have a barrier – or, well, at least I did when the exam first started. Perhaps his barrier wore off before the combat began.”

  “How long were you in there?”

  “Not long. Thirty seven minutes, I’d say,” Taelien estimated.

  Velas quirked an eyebrow at him. “That’s awfully exact.”

  He shrugged. “Seemed about right.”

  “No competent protection sorcerer makes barriers that last less than an hour. It sounds like some disciplinary action may be in order, but who am I to talk?” The doctor shook his head, retrieving a large medical kit from underneath one of the cots on the opposite side of the room. “Sit still, I need to clean the wound and stitch it up.”

  Not a sorcerer, then, either. Wonder why he’s here – I know they have life sorcerers in the paladins, like Aladir.

  “Do you need a hand?” Velas offered.

  “Quite fine, my dear. I’ll be with you when I’m done treating this young man.”

  Velas tapped her left hand on her leg. “I can take care of my neck if you’ll let me grab the supplies. I’m a Jaldin, I know my way around a medical kit.”

  “I don’t care if you’re Lissari herself, miss. You’re a patient right now, and you’re not in the field. You don’t patch yourself up. You wait.”

  Velas sighed. “Fine.”

  The doctor was quieter once he began treating their injuries, never bothering to introduce himself. Cleaning the wound was relatively painless, but stitching the wound without anesthetic felt worse than the injury itself had.

  Velas held Taelien’s hand while the needle wove through his skin, which proved both a kindness and a mild source of entertainment as they played at conquering each other’s thumbs. The doctor, for his part, seemed to ignore their antics.

  Once the needlework was done, the doctor applied a poultice to the wound and wrapped his chest with bandages. “Who’s your overseer? I’ll recommend that they let you skip the next test.”

  Taelien tensed his jaw, embarrassed by the idea of missing one of his exams due to an injury. “Garrick Torrent is my squad’s overseer, but please don’t do that. I’ll be just fine.”

  “From your pallor, you’ve lost a fair bit of blood. You’re not in any condition for this particular test. At a minimum, they need to make accommodations. For the moment, you clean the blood off your face – there will be supplies in your overseer’s tent – and get yourself some food and a few hours of sleep.”

  “I’ll wait until she’s done with her treatment, if you don’t mind.”

  Velas gave Taelien an appreciative nod. “My wound shouldn’t take as long to deal with, it’s fairly mild.”

  The doctor sighed. “No one ever listens to me. Fine, fine. You can stay, but don’t get in the way.”

  The grey-haired man cleaned the injury around Velas’ neck, and then applied a different type of poultice to the wound. Velas looked like she wanted to complain – and from the way she was eyeing the kit, he suspected she wanted to use a different kind of ointment – but she didn’t say anything. When the doctor finally finished wrapping her neck with a bandage, she quickly stood to leave.

  “Thank you for helping us both, doctor,” Velas offered.

  He waved a dismissive hand. “Just don’t do anything that’s going to put you in here again.”

  “Deal.”

  Taelien stood up and offered a hand, which the doctor clasped at the wr
ist. “Thank you, doctor.”

  After Velas clasped wrists with the doctor as well, they finally departed the tent, eagerly heading toward the remainder of their group. Landen was waiting outside the tent for them, dressed in a full uniform and with damp hair.

  “How are you two holding up?” He lifted the entrance to the tent, allowing them to slip inside and following behind them.

  “Doing better now that we can finally get dressed.” The blue tent was larger than the medic’s tent, but only had six cots inside. Taelien’s eyes tracked for the Sae’kes, and he found it lying next to the one on the back-left side – across from where Garrick Torrent stood.

  “You’re late,” the overseer remarked with a smirk.

  Taelien patted the bandages on his chest. “Well, I heard these were the latest fashion, so I absolutely had to get some.”

  Garrick tilted his head to the side. “The others told me you got injured, but I admit I was a little skeptical. That shouldn’t have happened, and I apologize.”

  Taelien nodded. “That’s no problem. I expected to get hurt during these tests – it’s not anything to be concerned about. Accidents happen.”

  Separating me from my sword, on the other hand – that’s a problem. A problem we’re going to have a very serious talk about later, ideally when I have a sufficient rank that it doesn’t get me expelled from the organization for mouthing off to a superior.

  Lieutenant Torrent frowned. “Yes, accidents do happen. But I watched the sorcerer put a barrier on each of you – an injury like that shouldn’t have been possible.” He glanced at Velas. “Your situation is regrettable, but more plausible, at least. Most barrier spells won’t stop something that’s pressed directly against your skin. I watched what you did in there – manipulating the charge in the collar. Dangerous, but also impressive. You’re getting a Rank A for it.”

  Velas brightened noticeably at that, straightening her posture again. “Thank you, sir.” She raised a hand in salute, which Taelien mirrored, realizing in retrospect that he had been terribly rude not to salute his commanding officer immediately on entry.

  “It’s fine, you can put your hands down. You’re both sleep deprived and injured. I’ve never been one for formalities, anyway.”

  Taelien nodded and lowered his hand, feeling relieved. “Can we, um –”

  “Get dressed? Yeah, I don’t want to stare at your half-naked asses any longer than I need to. Come on.”

  Taelien and Velas surged toward their supplies. He noted that the former Queensguard went straight to checking on her quarterstaff, running an affectionate hand along the wood in a way that reminded him of his own connection with his sword. Must hold some sentimental value to her.

  He felt somewhat better once he was dressed, but his uniform shirt chafed awkwardly against his bandages. Garrick left the tent briefly, returning with a pair of wet towels, which Taelien and Velas used to clean their faces. The dried blood from Taelien’s nose had spread further than he realized, and he felt mildly embarrassed by what he must have looked like to the others while he was wandering around.

  After Taelien buckled on his sword belt and sat down, Garrick sat across from him and spoke. “Doctor Corrington wants you to skip today’s exam, Taelien. Since your injury was outside the design of the last test, I’m going to assume that over-taxing your sorcery was justified, since there may have been an actual threat to your well-being. I still need to talk to Colonel Wyndam, but I think I can talk her into letting you skip the next test and get the lowest possible passing score. Since this is one of the last tests, I think that’s a good idea for you.”

  “I’m not interested in skipping any tests, sir. What is my other option?”

  “You take the test. I don’t think they’re going to make it any easier for you if you decide to take it, unfortunately. For safety reasons, I’ll give a member of your squad an emergency signal beacon to use if your condition deteriorates.”

  “I would prefer that approach, sir.”

  Taelien looked around, noting Asphodel and Landen were watching him closely. Asphodel gave him an almost imperceptible nod.

  Garrick stood back up. “All right. I don’t like it, but it’s your call. I’ll go get a beacon ready for you.” He looked at Velas. “You’ll carry the beacon. It’ll be your job to evaluate if Taelien’s medical condition poses a serious risk to his health. If it does, you will trigger the beacon immediately, regardless of his inevitable complaints. Is that understood?”

  Velas nodded curtly. “Yes, sir.”

  Taelien suppressed a groan. It’s the right call. She’s the most medically knowledgeable among us and she won’t tolerate my bullshit.

  “Your next test begins in four hours. There’s food in the storage containers next to your cots. I suggest you eat while you can and sleep.”

  Sleep with four hours until our next test? What an absurd notion.

  ***

  The group spent the next half hour devouring the simple road fare they found stowed in their supplies. Taelien sat with the Sae’kes across his lap, feeling more comfortable with the weapon both in his sight and the hilt within easy reach. For the most part, they ate in relative silence. Only Asphodel seemed fully awake, and she rarely spoke without prompting.

  It was Landen who breached the quiet with the first question of any significance. “Garrick, I’ve been meaning to ask – where are Teshvol, Eridus, and Kolask?”

  The lieutenant scratched behind his head. He was eating the same food as the rest of them in a rare show of solidarity, and he took a few moments to finish chewing a bite of jerky before replying. “Right, yeah, should have told you. They’ve been reassigned. Not many candidates left at this stage – we evened out the platoons. Kolask and Teshvol got moved to four. Eridus is in three, since they’ve got a bunch of sorcery support types.”

  Taelien glanced at Asphodel, hoping to see relief in her features, but she remained intently focused on her food. He turned to Lieutenant Torrent next. “How’d they do on their own test?”

  “Platoon three was a bit slow, but they managed to get out of the prison in better shape than you did. Used a bit more subtlety, less raw force. Personally, I liked watching your test more. They’re already out doing the next test, which I’ll brief you on soon. Platoon four hasn’t taken the prison test yet.”

  Asphodel frowned, pausing mid-bite to turn to Torrent. “Watching?”

  “Of course.” The lieutenant grinned. “You didn’t think we’d put you in a test we couldn’t observe, did you?”

  She continued chewing her food silently, a disturbed expression on her face.

  “How do you manage that?” Velas inquired. “Sight sorcery?

  They probably have something analogous to Jonan’s mirrors. And we know they have sight and sound sorcerers – that’s how they set up my fight with the “Crown Prince of Xixis” in the first simulation.

  “Something like that,” Torrent grinned. “Explaining all the tricks would ruin the suspense for your remaining tests. We get better reactions when it feels real.”

  “That slice in my side felt plenty real. Good job on that.” Taelien chuckled at his own joke, but no one else laughed.

  “We generally take excellent precautions. I handled teleporting you to the cells personally.”

  “I remember,” Taelien remarked with a nod. The others gave him sharp glances. “What? I was awake when they moved us for the test. None of you ever asked about it.”

  Torrent narrowed his eyes slightly. “You were awake? And you didn’t say anything?”

  No, I didn’t want to ruin the exercise. I just prepared to strike if you or any of the others who were with you made any hostile movements.

  “I didn’t want to wake anyone else up.”

  Torrent folded his arms. “I was totally silent. There’s no way you heard me.”

  “None of you made any noise. I assumed you had a sound shaper with you – good work on that. But I saw you. I could see the light glinting off Lieu
tenant Banks’ armor. I read her lips while she put the barriers on us. I was surprised you managed to teleport us after the barriers went up – wouldn’t the barriers have stopped the spell?”

  Velas silently clapped in the air, apparently appreciating his method of proving his point.

  “All right, you saw us. Resh, boy, do you ever sleep at all? And as for that, Banks shaped the protection spells so that they wouldn’t block travel sorcery. It’s a fairly advanced technique.”

  Could she – or someone else – have also shaped the barriers so that they wouldn’t block metallic weapons? Hrm.

  Taelien took a drink from his flask of water, wiping his hands on the opposite side of his now-bloodstained towel as he finished his morning meal. “Nope. Don’t think I’m going to sleep before the next test, either. Anyone up for a walk?”

  Asphodel stood up immediately, drawing glances from Velas and Landen. “Yes.”

  Lieutenant Torrent shook his head. “I’d advise against that. You’re going to have a lot of walking ahead of you. A lot.”

  Asphodel shrugged. “Now is a proper time.”

  Taelien stretched as he stood and then nodded at Asphodel. His left hand settled on the pommel of his sword, the tingling sense of the metal encasing the jewel flooding his mind with comfort. “Let’s get moving, then.”

  “You two are crazy,” Landen mumbled. “I’m already half asleep. Have fun.”

  “Don’t reopen that wound, Taelien.” Velas’ tone was stern. “I don’t want to have to sew you up again in the field.”

  He waved at her dismissively. “What are the chances of that happening?”

  ***

  Taelien had just stepped outside of the tent when he realized he had no idea where they were going. After a moment of consideration, he wandered over to where Caul was standing guard, Asphodel following close behind him.

  “Hey, Caul.”

  Caul turned, blinking widely when he took in the sight of Taelien in his uniform. “Oh, hey, wow. I barely recognized you. You look a lot better now!”