Stealing Sorcery

by Andrew Rowe

  Lydia turned her gaze back to the wound, eyes narrowing in thought.

  That strange dominion is in his body now – I saw it in his right hand. Has he been using it somehow, consciously or unconsciously?

  “Did he appear to be aware of this?”

  Lieutenant Banks shook her head. “No, Major. He simply played along with the simulation until we withdrew the stone sentry – both because it was damaged, and because Applicant Salaris’ barrier collapsed, putting him at risk.”

  “His barrier collapsed?”

  Banks frowned. “I…admit that I do not know why, Major, but the barriers we’ve been putting on him have been failing regularly. I regret to inform you that he was harmed during the Trial of Imprisonment as a result of this lapse.”

  Lydia folded her arms. “How many times has this happened, Lieutenant?”

  The lieutenant tightened her jaw. “In at least three of the tests, so far as we could determine.”

  “And you’ve been sending him into more tests? He should have been withdrawn for investigation after the first barrier failed. That kind of lapse can get someone killed.”

  “I apologize, ma’am, but that was not my decision. You will need to take it up with the colonel.”

  “I intend to do so. Thank you for the insight, Lieutenant. As for what you’ve found here, this does fall within my jurisdiction, as does any investigation related to the Sae’kes. You are not to divulge this to anyone aside from Colonel Wyndam without seeking my express permission first. Is that clear?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Good. You may continue your repairs.”

  “Yes, ma’am. Thank you, ma’am.”

  Lydia nodded and left the room, touching the sigil to close the door behind her.

  She had one more place to visit before she left the vault.

  She walked down the hall, turning left at an intersection and taking a flight of stairs down two levels. The chamber she was seeking was deep underground, in the most heavily protected area of the vault. She had access to very few of these rooms – but they could not deny her permission to visit an artifact she had retrieved herself.

  The door had seven seals – she touched three of them in the correct sequence, pressing her hand against the center seal last.

  Major Lydia Hastings.

  The door slid open, revealing a room brightly lit by the vast arrays of runes glowing actively on the walls.

  In the center was a pedestal, and on the center of that pedestal a glowing green gemstone.

  She placed her hand on the stone and concentrated her thoughts.

  “Hello, Vendria.”

  Another thought – another voice – sang out to answer her.

  “I hear your voice, Lydia. I have been alone for too long. Why do you keep me imprisoned here?”

  Lydia’s heart sank at the sadness within the melodic tones of the stone’s voice. She had discovered that the stone was intelligent shortly after she had retrieved it from the battlefield after Edon’s defeat. Taelien had found the stone in the Paths of Ascension, but he had not known what he carried.

  And she still had not told him. It was not something that would be easy to explain.

  “I’m sorry, Vendria. I need to keep you safe, so that you are not used as a weapon again.”

  “You may carry me, then. I will permit it.”

  Lydia considered that offer. “Others seek you out to try to chain you, just as the people of Xixis did.”

  “Their chains cut deeper than yours, but I am chained here nonetheless. I must be free, or I will lose what little remains of myself.”

  Lydia drew in a sharp breath. She had come here to seek the advice of the ancient being bound within the stone, hoping it might know how to injure a Vae’kes. But the stone itself held vast power – enough that it might serve that purpose itself.

  The sentience within it was fractured, only a part of the being that had once been called Vendria. The stone had explained that she had once been a powerful entity that had been “shattered”, and this gem was what remained of her essence. Lydia suspected that other pieces of Vendria might exist elsewhere and hoped to seek them out when time permitted such a journey.

  Lydia did not expect to seek the remaining pieces of Vendria soon – her responsibilities weighted too heavily – but she could, perhaps, give the being a hint of freedom.

  “Alright, Vendria. Let’s go.”

  ***

  Days later, Lydia received news that her request to pursue Vae’kes Sterling had been placed on hold until the trial of Torian Dianis was concluded.

  In response, she took a rare leave of absence to “pursue personal interests”. She was permitted to remove Vendria from the vault for research, under the stipulation that the gemstone would be returned when she finished her investigation into its nature.

  A few days after that, she arrived at a familiar tower, knocking on the door.

  Moments later, an older man opened the door, a ruby ring shimmering brightly on his right hand. “Miss Hastings.”

  Blake Hartigan smiled softly, offering her a hand. “Are you ready to begin your training?”

  Chapter XXVII – Velas VIII – Duel

  “Applicant Velas Jaldin, are you prepared for your final trial?”

  She raised her quarterstaff to salute Colonel Wyndam, grinning brightly. Her ribs were mostly healed thanks to Aladir Ta’thryriel’s expert ministrations, and her body was armored in both metal and sorcery.

  “Applicant Salaris, are you prepared for your final trial?”

  Across the arena, Velas could see Taelien raising his own blade in salute to the colonel.

  “Good. Each of you is currently protected by an armor spell. Your objective will be to deal as much damage to the target as possible, which our sorcerers will be measuring during the match. You will still feel hits, and injuries are still possible. If one of you manages to collapse the other’s armor spell, you will win immediately. This is not a lethal contest. Do you both understand the rules?”

  “Yes, ma’am!” They shouted in union.

  “One last thing. The Arbiters have judged that dominion marked and dominion bonded equipment is allowed in these matches.”

  There was a hush in the crowd, and Velas could see many eyes turning toward the sword on Taelien’s left hip.

  She made the satisfied smile of someone with a secret carefully concealed.

  “Turn to face each other and salute.”

  Velas turned and saluted Taelien, noting the grin on his face that mirrored her own as he raised his blade to his chest.

  Her armor was purely leather – enough protection to provide a cushion against his blows, but without any metal components that Taelien could manipulate. Similarly, she had armed herself with a weapon she knew he could not command, though she had a wooden sword sheathed at her side as a backup weapon if he somehow managed to disarm her.

  He was armored in a brigandine tunic – leather with metal plates sandwiched within – and leather gloves, bracers, and greaves. He didn’t need to worry about her manipulating metal, but she suspected he had anticipated her own choice of armor and chosen something similar to prevent it from significantly reducing his mobility.

  He drew the red-bladed sword, but that was just his opening move. She itched to force him to use his real weapon, and she knew exactly how she planned to do so.

  It’s finally time.

  “Begin!”

  There was no charge forward, no blur of movement. This was a battle to be savored, not one to be rushed.

  “A quarterstaff, Velas? Really? That desperate to keep me from breaking your toys?” He walked casually toward her, patting the flat of his sword against the palm of his left hand. She matched his pace from the opposite side of the arena.

  “Your arrogance is going to get you in trouble again, ‘Taelien’. Or, I’m sorry, is it Salaris now? Maybe someday you’ll figure that out.”

  Ten feet away. I’ll move soon.

  Ev
en in the distance she saw him roll his eyes. “Don’t mistake optimism for arrogance. I just have every advantage over you, that’s all. Strength, determination, reach…”

  Reach? She frowned – he was just carrying a normal blade.

  She danced back and to left the just as he began his swing, the bottom portion of the red blade shifting into a length of chain. The momentum of his swing carried the chain toward her like a whip, and her movement was not sufficient to carry her out of the path of the weapon.

  Better go up, then.

  Surge!

  The blast of force carried her over the chain to a cheer from the crowd, and as she began to descend, she focused again.

  Surge!

  The blast pushed her back downward at a diagonal angle toward Taelien. She swung her staff as she moved, aiming directly at his head, and knowing his sword would be unable to make a proper parry in its current state.

  Taelien moved to side-step her swing, raising his left bracer into a blocking position as he shifted his stance. Her swing connected with the bracer, causing a flicker of sorcerous sparks to erupt from the impact, and she called upon the Dominion of Motion again to slow her as she reached the ground.

  She gave no pause on reaching the ground, granted no quarter. The staff spun in her hands, smashing into his shin. As his chain began to retract, she released one hand from her grip to grab it.

  Surge.

  He planted his feet, barely managing to maintain his grip on the hilt while the burst of motion attempted to wrest it from his grasp. And then he turned his gaze at her and grinned.

  “Might want to watch what you’re holding.”

  The chain caught fire.

  Velas cursed, feeling a momentary surge of pain as the flames licked against her hand. The sorcerous armor prevented the fire from dealing any significant damage, but burn was real, and the pain jarred her out of her focus.

  A moment later, the sword was whole again – and still on fire. Taelien took it in both hands, swinging a heavy cut at her chest.

  Velas took a step back, deflecting the strike clumsily with the one hand she still had on her staff. Wincing, she renewed her two-handed grip, but she knew that continuous parries would abrade the burn and make it harder to hold over time.

  “I admit I wasn’t expecting the jumping trick quite so soon.” Taelien assumed the Sae’lien stance, raising his weapon above his head for a heavy strike. “But I don’t think you’re going to be doing many more of those. It tires you out too much and slows you down.”

  Velas shook her head. “I’ve barely even gotten started, and you’ve already used both your metal sorcery and your fire.”

  “At least I have two tricks. You’ve only got the one.”

  Velas stepped forward and parried his downward strike. He pressed it, attempting to cut through the wooden weapon as she knew he would.

  She felt the nearby aura of flame, but it wasn’t close enough yet.

  She slid her burned hand to the center of the staff, near where it intersected with the blade, and brushed her fingers against the flame again. This time, she was ready.

  Expulse.

  The flames blasted away from the blade, slamming into Taelien’s chest. He staggered back, releasing a hand from the grip on his blade to bat away the fire on his leather. She pursued, swinging a heavy stroke at his legs, but he hopped over it.

  Her hand burned from the contact, but she smirked. “That’s two tricks for each of us. Want to see a third?”

  Taelien pulled his hand away from his singed armor, holding a ball of flame within his fingers. “I’m always happy to see you try to match me, Velas. Maybe one day you’ll even come close.”

  He waved his hand, sending the ball of flame at her. She stepped to the side, avoiding it easily, but he used the distraction to rush forward and slam his pommel into her jaw. She reeled back, taking a punch from his off-hand to the chest before she recovered enough to regain a defensive stance and ward him away with her staff.

  He began circling her to the right, so she moved as well, opening and closing her jaw. It throbbed, but it still moved, at least. Nothing broken. The armor spell was doing its work.

  She searched her mind for something else to say, another quip to put him off his guard, but her heart wasn’t in it. She didn’t want to talk anymore.

  She was ready to fight.

  Her left hand slipped underneath one of the pieces of the wooden shell around her true weapon, and she closed her eyes.

  Burst.

  Wooden chunks exploded outward as adhesive tore under the force of her spell. The few pieces that struck Velas and Taelien didn’t do any damage – that was not the point.

  Beneath the shell laid the Heartlance, weapon of Myros, goddess of battle.

  Taelien let out a startled sound, stepping back, and lowering his weapon into a defensive stance.

  A hush fell over the crowd as she raised the glimmering shaft of metal to strike.

  Taelien moved first.

  His sword cut a downward arc, aiming at her right arm. She spun the Heartlance, deflecting the strike easily, and dragged the tip of her weapon across his blade as he retreated. The lance’s edge left a long rent in his weapon, her artifact more than capable of rending an ordinary weapon apart.

  The swordsman hissed, tapped the hilt of his sword, and the metal in his blade shifted and reformed, covering the weakened areas.

  “A delaying tactic. You can’t sustain that.”

  He shrugged, resting his sword against the ground, point down. “I don’t have to. I just had to keep you distracted long enough for the other weapons to get close.”

  The memory of dozens of magnetized weapons flashed in her mind.

  Velas spun on her heel, raising her spear to defend – but there were no other weapons.

  Taelien closed the distance between them faster than she had thought possible – but he still was not fast enough.

  Surge!

  The burst of force carried her backward, out of the reach of his swing.

  Her legs ached. Her hand throbbed. Her chest burned. The costs of her spells were beginning to tax her too far – but she didn’t need to use them anymore.

  Velas tapped the Heartlance against the ground, four golden lines appearing along the shaft, and surging up into her arm. She felt the familiar essence of the weapon flow into her muscles, enhancing her movements.

  She spun the spear in a single hand, watching the metallic blur, nearly too quick for her own eyes to process.

  Velas smiled.

  She sprang forward, carried by the artifact-imbued momentum, and thrust the weapon straight for Taelien’s chest. He smacked the spear out of the way, but she drew it back down, severing the edge of his weapon and swinging the shaft at his head.

  Taelien ducked the swing, but she stepped in close and slammed the bar into his chest, knocking him backward. He made a swing toward her face as he fell backward, but she backed out of range before the strike connected.

  She began to circle Taelien as he took a defensive stance.

  “What were all those advantages you were talking about?” Velas looked from side-to-side, inviting him to attack, but he didn’t take the bait. “I don’t see any.”

  Taelien smirked, a trail of blood dribbling down the side of his mouth. “It is, I admit, difficult to see ingenuity. Let me show it to you.”

  He swung a strike in the air, too far away to connect – but half of the remainder of his blade detached, flying directly at her. She batted the metal aside easily, frowning. “Really? That’s the best –”

  She heard the hiss of the metal flying back toward her and spun, deflecting it again. “Okay, that could get irritating.”

  “That’s just the first piece.” He swiped the weapon again, another metallic chunk breaking free of the blade. She bisected this one with the tip of her spear, but the pieces still hit her, and then flew backward toward Taelien’s weapon.

  She turned in time to knock the first piece of
metal back out of the way, preventing it from returning to Taelien’s sword.

  “So, you magnetized your own weapon and broke it into bits. That’s cute, but it’s hardly a winning tactic.”

  He shrugged, raising the remains of his weapon and spinning it around, more pieces of metal breaking free and flowing in circles around it. “Well, I suppose I could light some of them on fire, if it would make you feel better.”

  She shoved her spear into the stone with a single hand, catching the piece of his blade on its return trajectory with her free hand – and crushing it in her Heartlance-enhanced grip.

  She dropped the distorted piece of metal, allowing it to fly back to its master, and glared at him. “You’re not going to beat me with an ordinary weapon.”

  Taelien nodded, tossing his broken weapon aside, the pieces of metal following it and sticking to the remains of the blade. “You’re right, of course.” He grinned, tilting his head downward, his eyes narrowed dangerously. “But you seem awfully eager for me to give you another scar.”

  Ah, so he knows.

  Good. That will make this more satisfying.

  Taelien set his hand on the hilt of the Sae’kes, shifting into the Instant Striking Stance.

  Velas pulled the Heartlance out of the arena’s floor, poised to strike.

  A heartbeat separated them. A single moment, with no room for error.

  Velas leapt into the air.

  Surge!

  The impact carried Velas downward in an instant, and in that same instant, Taelien released the grip on his sword.

  He reached with both hands for the shaft of the Heartlance – and he missed.

  Velas’ spear punctured through his left hand, tearing muscle and breaking bone, stopping only an inch before his chest.

  Taelien fell to his knees, shuddering in agony as Velas withdrew the spear.

  She raised her weapon to strike again.

  “Applicant Velas Jaldin has won the match!”

  Every muscle in Velas’ body burned as the crowd cheered, her weapon still poised to strike.

  As Taelien cradled his broken hand, Velas drew in a deep breath, watching, considering.

  It is over.