The Archon's Apprentice

by Neil Breault

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Anglantaea

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  The Archon’s Apprentice

  Neil Breault

  This is a work of fiction. All characters and events portrayed in this novel are fictitious.

  Copyright © 2015 by Neil Breault

  All rights reserved.

  Cover illustration: Jordy Lakiere

  Map by Maxime Plasse

  ISBN-13: 978-1-944326-01-2

  This book is dedicated to my wife who listens to all of my rambling thoughts with a smile

  And to everyone who gives this book a chance.

  Chapter 1

  Apprentice

  Mikol’s heart raced. He dodged right, Bayle’s blade missing him by an inch as his own blade swung forward. Mikol continued the momentum and forced his sword backward to score a hit on Bayle’s shirt sleeve. Bayle grunted and returned with a slice toward Mikol’s leg. The blade cut a long opening in Mikol’s left pant leg. Mikol stepped back, looking down at his ruined pants. He grimaced and then lunged forward, knowing Bayle would have to move away. While in his lunge he spun around and moved the blade in an upward arc. Bayle brought his own blade to block, but the force of the blow made him stumble. Mikol took advantage of this and gave Bayle a push. Bayle fell to the floor and futilely tried to block further blows. The floor knocked the air out of Bayle’s lungs. It took Bayle a moment before he saw Mikol’s blade pointed down at him and he could not get up.

  “Yield?”

  “Sunder you, Mikol! You don’t have to show me up all the time.”

  “If you practiced with me more often like I asked, you wouldn’t be so bad.”

  Bayle rolled his eyes and tried to get up, but Mikol still held his blade over Bayle’s chest.

  “Come on, Mikol, you won. You’re already late to see the Archon.”

  Mikol’s face lit up with surprise. “What?! We’ll have to hurry.” Mikol jabbed his sword into Bayle’s chest. Bayle spasmed quickly as the magic spread over his body. Both swords disappeared and rounds of applause could be heard around the room.

  “Fight goes to Mikol,” Foen said. “And he will continue to win until you use your training, son.” Foen walked over to Bayle and helped him off the floor.

  “It’s not exactly fair to use that on someone not initiated in the Paragons, especially a friend.”

  “You think you could beat him even then?”

  “It’s not that I don’t want to win, but I don’t want to hurt him.”

  “I’m sure that’s it, so I hope you like the kiss of his training blade. But remember, they are quite different from steel blades.”

  “Come on, Bayle. Stop talking to that old man. We need to get to the Archon,” said Mikol.

  Bayle smirked at his father and rushed off to follow Mikol, who had already left through the door. They had started sparring as the sun rose while the castle still slept. Now that it was midday some of the hallways were clogged with servants and various personnel. Most of the servants knew Mikol’s routine and were able to heed him, but there were always a few that did not get out of the way fast enough. The raven courtyard provided a flat, open ground for sparring and was the site of many tournaments, though it lay on the opposite side of the castle from the Archon’s study. When they reached the Archon’s study, any spot of clothing that had not been previously drenched in sweat finally surrendered. They stood outside the door to catch their breath. As Mikol opened the door he saw Voletain standing inside with arms crossed, waiting.

  “Mikol,” said Voletain, “I believe I was expecting you some time ago. Have you not learned how to read a clock in your twenty-seven years?”

  “Master, sorry, there is no clock in the Raven courtyard.”

  “Yes, I can smell what you have been doing.” Voletain drew a rune in the air. “There, that’s better. Come in, we have much to go over and always less time.”

  As Mikol walked over to the chair, he knew that his clothing was still soaked in sweat, but somehow it felt clean. Bayle moved to his customary position in the room: as far back as the room would allow with his arms folded across his chest. Mikol had first raised an eyebrow at his friend’s behavior, but as it provided the only means of Voletain tolerating his presence, he let it slide. Five years ago, when Mikol was first chosen as apprentice, Bayle wanted to come and learn as well. Voletain did not want any distractions and thought Bayle would hinder Mikol’s learning. But after several lessons in which Mikol did not learn anything and continued to insist Bayle be allowed to join, Voletain asked Mikol to explain why. Mikol had no one talk to about what he was learning and going through. When Voletain asked why Mikol could not talk to him, Mikol explained he did not want to appear dumb by asking questions that they had already discussed. Voletain said he understood and as long as Bayle was not disruptive he would be able to attend.

  “As much as we have been able to cover, it is only a small portion of what you will need to know when you become the Archon. Unfortunately, we will never be able to cover it all. Have you been practicing and studying the runic relationships?”

  “Yes.”

  “How often?”

  “Every day.”

  “Good. Then what are the basics of magic?” Voletain turned and examined various objects at the front of the room, looking back at Mikol after a moment when he had not started speaking.

  Always unsure if he was supposed to stand or stay seated, Mikol decided this time he could stayed seated, as his legs were shaky from his sparring.

  “Well,” said Mikol, “um, magic only works for those that are attuned, though runes can be created that can be used by everyone.”

  “Like our swords,” said Bayle.

  “Thank you Bayle,” said Voletain. “I appreciate knowledge in everyone, but this is not your lesson. Please keep quiet back there.” Turning back to Mikol, “Continue.”

  “All magic is created with a symbol, or rune, that will release the magic. You can combine many runes to make a complex rune. These will have more magic in them and be more powerful. Almost anything can be created with rune magic, limited only by one’s creativity and will over the flow of magic.”

  “Good. That is a better answer than before. Are you ready?”

  “Yes.”

  “Show me what you know.” Voletain cast the familiar aegis training rune at Mikol. It flew from Voletain’s hand and expanded as it got closer. Mikol shivered involuntarily as the rune coalesced around his body. It always felt like cold water being thrown on him.

  “Start with a simple rune first and add more runes to the lattice to until I tell you to stop.”

  Mikol decided to start with a simple light rune. His gestures for creating runes were not as proficient as Voletain’s, but Mikol could tell he was getting better. With each rune successfully completed and cast properly the aegis flashed green. The aegis was otherwise invisible around Mikol as he created ever-increasingly intricate rune lattices. Voletain watched intently and Mikol could hear soft sounds of surprise every so often.

  When the aegis
flashed red the fifth time it again shocked Mikol briefly, and Voletain called a halt to the exercise.

  “Many of those runes you created would have worked. But you included some that would have backfired and consumed you in a fiery magical backwash.”

  “Yes, I know. I look forward to these sessions, as I can try some of the combinations I theorize. This time I wanted to test some of the more volatile runes and see if they could be fused with some basic formulas to help sustain their reactions.”

  “And what did you find?”

  “Some of them did work, but most released their energy before I could configure the lattice correctly. I am not sure why.”

  “Yes, those runes were the only ones that caused you issues today. The lesser of the exotic runes are able to be combined successfully, but the further from nature those runes become, the more volatile. The exotic runes are meant to be singular runes that do only one thing. But it is good you are expanding your knowledge. Remember to always use an aegis when testing new combinations of runes before actually using them. Better to receive a shock from the aegis than a missing limb from a spell gone awry. Or worse.”

  Voletain turned back to the various objects in the front of the room. His hand hovered over a few of them but he turned back before picking any of them up. Voletain looked at Mikol pointedly. “Mikol, I still know I chose correctly when I appointed you as my Archon apprentice. Though, I still worry about choosing a child. But when the young are the only ones willing to learn, then that is who you must choose.”

  “A child?” said Mikol, “I wasn’t a child five years ago when you chose me. And I’ve only aged since. I am twenty-seven. That’s hardly a child.”

  “Mikol, you forget the potent royal runes given to the Monarchy and Archon.” Voletain pulled aside his robe and pointed to a rune emblazoned on his chest. “Once you have been given the attunement rune you will have access to the full flow of magic you will feel your own Life rune’s power, and you may start to understand.” Voletain reached out and touched Mikol’s chest. “You are still but a child to me.”

  “How old are you?” asked Bayle. Voletain looked up at him and glared.

  “Mikol, I hope you do not learn your manners from the company you keep. It is hardly befitting to ask an elder their age.”

  “Well,” said Mikol, “how old are you? I know you are older then my father, and he is almost three hundred years old. You have been Archon ever since he has been alive.”

  “It is not important to know how old I am, but to satisfy a child’s curiosity, you can think of me being simply old enough.” Voletain smiled, cleared his throat, turned back to Mikol, and looked up at Bayle. “Have either of you heard of blood magic?”

  Bayle visibly stiffened and looked away. Mikol, now sitting, moved to the edge of his seat. He had read stories of blood magic, but did not believe most of them; they were too wild to be true.

  “We’ve ... heard things.”

  “What you have heard is most likely truth, though it may be exaggerated. You will need to know about blood magic before truly becoming Archon, but this is also why the wardens were created.”

  “I thought they kept the peace in Ternia?” asked Mikol.

  “Yes, and also the rest of the world. There are two groups of wardens. You have only known and seen the wardens around Valefort, but there is another group keeping the peace in the rest of Anglataea, especially in Sibilova. It is their job to hunt down any blood mage and kill them.”

  “Why?”

  “They are not bound by the rules of magic,” said Voletain, “but I have asked Omoni to speak with you today about the wardens and what they do. You will speak with all preceptors to understand what the divisions of magic do.”

  Voletain raised his hand and gestured for someone to come forward. Mikol looked back to the door and saw Bayle flinch as Omoni moved forward. He wore the same black outfit common to all wardens. Unlike the other wardens Mikol had seen, Omoni’s hood lay on his back and his cape was drawn. He walked to the front of the room as quickly as he could with his stilted gait. Mikol had never noticed how much Omoni used his staff to help him walk. Mikol had never purposefully been this close to Omoni before. He could not be certain why, but Mikol did not feel comfortable around Omoni. Omoni took the other chair in the room and dragged it to face Mikol before sitting down. He then adjusted his cloak and laid his staff across his legs before fixing Mikol with a stoic gaze.

  “What do you know of blood magic?” asked Omoni.

  “Only stories,” said Mikol, “nothing that I would trust to be true.”

  “That is a good outlook. Let me be the one to offer the truth of blood magic. It is a vile thing. It can rival some of the most powerful runes and even combat some of the runes we know. It is the only reason why I have this limp.”

  “Could you not use a healing rune to mend the leg?” asked Bayle.

  “Still practicing being a statue? Do you know they are supposed to be silent?” said Omoni as he glared at Bayle. Mikol barely kept a smirk off his face.

  “Preceptor,” said Mikol, “if he weren’t such a good sparring partner I would have ditched him long ago, but I have the same question. Could you not use a healing rune to mend the leg?”

  Omoni pulled off his boot and rolled his pant leg up. The muscles and tendons had become twisted and mangled, starting above the ankle and traversing up through the thigh beyond what they could see. Mikol could only look at the leg for a moment.

  “I have tried many times to use healing runes,” said Omoni, “but my leg is not actually broken. The healing runes are able to mend a broken leg, as I am sure both of you are aware. The blood magic that injured me did not actually wound me, but it altered my leg. If I broke my leg again and disfigured it to look like my other leg, the healing runes would mend it back to the way it is now. This is but one reason why blood magic is so dangerous.

  “Blood magic derives its power from within a person. Everyone has a magical potential. I believe that is why the Archon chose you to succeed him. Runes do not draw directly from the person but from the world around it and your inner power help control the runes. With blood magic, instead of drawing or saying a rune, the power of blood is required. This does not have to be from the one who is using the magic, either; this can be from anyone. Once the blood has been spilled, the magic of the spell will be released from within the blood itself.

  “I said before that blood magic is vile. While this is true, it is only a half truth. It is only vile and contemptible if the user chooses to make it so. It can be used for many good things, but the cost is usually too high.”

  “How does someone learn blood magic?” asked Mikol. “I have never seen a blood mage around Valefort, or heard of any in Ternia.”

  “The wardens have made sure there are no blood mages in Ternia,” said Omoni, “Anyone caught using blood magic is put to death on the spot.”

  “That seems extreme,” said Mikol.

  “It should be. There is no attunement rune for blood magic and this is the primary reason why blood magic is so dangerous. The Exemplars are able to limit the use of runes to only those who are worthy to use it with the various attunement runes, but they are unable to control who can use blood magic. If you knew someone who was using blood magic, they could teach you how to use it too without any attunement. This would not be a good idea, as I would still put you to death all the same.” Omoni shifted in his seat. “You need not worry about blood magic in Ternia though; we have cleansed it from within our borders. The only place you will find blood magic is in the savage kingdoms. Even there it is difficult to find a blood mage. We have wardens hunting night and day to eradicate all blood magic from the world.”

  There was a knock at the door. Omoni and Mikol looked up at the door and then to Bayle standing next to it. It took him a moment before he moved to open the door; his cheeks had reddened slightly. He spoke with someone in the hall for a moment before opening the door wider for the messenger.

  �
��Mikol,” said the messenger, “Your presence is requested. Your brother, Prince Arceri, has arrived back from his trip to Casparan.”

  “A little later than he was supposed to. When is he due back in the city?”

  “Sorry, your grace, if I misspoke, but he is already in the city.”

  “What! Why didn’t my father call me earlier?”

  “It was Prince Perim who requested your presence.”

  Mikol looked from the messenger to Omoni.

  “Archon, Preceptor, can we continue this at another time?”

  “Go,” said Voletain, “You are not Archon yet and are still bound by family oaths. We shall continue this another time.”

  Mikol bowed quickly and rushed out of the room, Bayle following a step behind him. All of the hallways were conspicuously empty. They made their way to the main courtyard balcony in record time. Mikol smiled when he saw Arceri had just arrived in the castle proper. The servants and soldiers had lined themselves along the walkways. As Arceri passed, the soldiers saluted and the servants bowed. Mikol could see Arceri had already assumed the demeanor of a king. Arceri’s presence almost caused Mikol to overlook the smaller figure beside him. She looked to be the same age as Arceri, though she could not be, as he was over 50. The Royal Runes of privilege prolonged life and provided the benefit of keeping one younger looking. Mikol had grown accustomed to his oldest brother looking younger than himself.

  “Good of you to join us, little brother,” said Turos. Mikol had not seen his brother standing in the shadow of the balcony.

  “I hope you will at least freshen up before joining us for the triumphant welcome-home dinner,” said Turos, spinning his gilded cane in his hands. Mikol could never figure out why Turos had the cane but had never seen him without it.

  Mikol looked at his and Bayle’s clothing. He brushed off some dirt but caught sight of a ripped pant leg. Any other day he could possibly get away with being underdressed. He looked down at the crowd and saw the soldiers in full dress. This would not be one of those days. He glanced once more at Arceri and this mystery woman before rushing off to bathe away the day.