Death Comes To All (Book 1)

by Travis Kerr

  "Something like that, as near as I can tell anyway. These stories weren't written by the mages, but by other people sometime after. It could be that these stories aren't as accurate as I hope they are, but it's all we have to go on at the moment. Either way, I'm sure that this new fighting style is going to be better for you than the one I already taught you. I think you're going to take this farther than I'll be able to teach you."

  Wonderful.

  "So when am I supposed to start training in this new style you want me to learn?"

  "We have a few days of work ahead of us before we can relax enough to start training. We have all winter to train, longer even if we need it. Gathering food, on the other hand, is on a tight schedule. Once we're prepared for the coming winter there will be time to do other things, including completing your training."

  "Hopefully that includes doing a bit of house cleaning," Raine added, running a hand through a thick line of dust that coated the banister on the stairway. "This place is a mess."

  Raiste laughed. "There will be plenty enough time for that as well. However, that time will not be tonight. The two of you are tired. Go on up to your rooms and get some sleep. I'm going to do a bit more reading before I'm ready to turn in myself. Good night."

  Without waiting for a reply he headed back into the living room and the waiting chronicle that had gained his attention. Raine stood, stretched lithely, and headed up the stairs to her own room. Bane was only a step or two behind her.

  "Goodnight," he said simply to her as she disappeared through her doorway.

  Her head poked out from behind the darkness. "Sleep well, Bane," she returned, then disappeared once more.

  Bane continued on to his own room, closing the door behind him as he entered. The coals that he had left in the fireplace to light his way had already died away completely, and the moon had moved on in its evening cycle. It no longer provided any light into his room.

  He nearly tripped over his gear, still on the floor at the foot of the bed where he had left it. With a little bit of luck he managed to stay on his feet, and made his way around to the bed.

  He briefly considered relighting the fire, but decided against it. Though he would have been able to find his flint and steel easily enough, he no longer needed light, and the night was warm enough that he didn't need heat either.

  Starting a fire now would be a waste of good wood.

  Instead he lay back on the soft bed. While he wasn't used to such a soft place to sleep, not even his bed at his parents farm had been so soft, he felt quite comfortable. He crawled under the sheets, leaving the heavier blanket folded at the bottom of the bed where he had put it. In a matter of minutes, he was fast asleep.

  Chapter Thirteen

  "Alright now Drom, concentrate," Raiste said to the sorvinian man in front of him. Like Raiste, Drom had decided to go back to his true name while they were living in the Hut. He would only go back to the name of Bane when they were out in the world again. Only Raine, who's true name Drom didn't actually know, had continued to go by her alias.

  Drom concentrated on the targets, nearly a dozen thick branches hanging from one of the cypress trees outside of the building, with Ocean's Hand held in front of him. Since they had finished gathering food, Raiste had spent nearly every waking minute with Drom, trying to unlock the secret to the young man's magic.

  The new fighting style that the man had worked out for him seemed to work quite well. By the end of the first day, Drom was as good at it as Raiste was, though the assassin had already told him that he hadn't been very proficient at it to begin with. Raiste had been right when he said that the constantly flowing style was a perfect match for fighting with Ocean's Hand. It seemed completely natural to him. His magic, however, continued to elude him, no matter how hard he tried.

  The three had spent the first week after arriving gathering food for the coming winter. With Raiste's assistance Drom had gathered greens, potatoes, several hundred pounds of wheat and other grains, and of course plenty of oranges from the grove, as well as a variety of other growing foods. Raiste had even shown him a large field covered in wild sugar cane.

  The entire group enjoyed the cakes and cookies that Drom was able to bake using the food he had gathered. Even Raine, who Drom had never seen eat anything besides meat, seemed to enjoy the sweet treats.

  Raine had done just as well in her hunting, bringing in three deer and four large hogs. She had gone out earlier that day to fish, which she hadn't done any of during the week, and had not yet returned.

  She probably hasn’t gone far, Drom knew. If they needed her for anything, she would likely hear them calling.

  Like the several times before, nothing at all happened. There was no blinding blue light, no strange distortion of time, no magic at all. Still, he knew the techniques to his new fighting style perfectly, or as perfectly as he could without a proper teacher in the form.

  Why isn’t this working?

  At Raiste's command to attack he stepped into the first swing, cut through the first branch, carried the blade through in a continuous arc, and neatly cut through three more in smooth, separate motions. It wasn't nearly as fast or as powerful as it had been when the magic had filled him, but it was still much faster than he had been when using the style he had been before.

  "Good. Your speed is improving greatly," Raiste observed. "Your footwork seemed a little tight just before the last strike, like you wanted to do something else, but didn't. Was there something else you wanted to do there?"

  "I'm not sure really. It felt like my body wanted to twist there. I don't know what I was supposed to do. Spin maybe, or twist the blade into a thrust. It's like having a word on the tip of your tongue, and not being able to figure out what you wanted to say."

  It’s annoying as hell!

  "That could be your magic, trying to come out," Raiste said thoughtfully. "Like I said before, once your magic is working you will develop a natural technique that’s entirely your own. I can only teach you what I know about fighting styles that are similar. Did it feel to you like your magic was coming out?"

  "Not so much as a twitch," Drom answered, exasperated. He knew that the assassin was feeling much the same way, though the man would never say it. "I've been trying the same thing over and over again, and I don't feel any closer to bringing out my magic. If it hadn't come out once already, I wouldn't believe that I really had it at all. Are you certain that no one else could have cast something on me? I know you said that it wasn't possible, but it also shouldn't be possible for a sorvinian, even one who's half human, to have magic as strong as what we think I should have. Shouldn't we have figured out how to get my magic to work by now, if it really is my magic I mean?"

  "I don't have those answers for you, Drom. I can say that I'm certain that it is your magic. The fact that you can learn this form so quickly, so naturally, would tell me that much, even if I hadn’t already been certain before, which I was. I don't know why we can't bring out your full power again. There has to be something, some trigger, that we're missing. And before you ask, yes, I'm very certain that it's not the extreme situation that we were in that is needed."

  "Well, what else could it be? We've been working on it non-stop, and we don't seem to be any closer to it than we were when we started."

  "I wish I knew," Raiste admitted. "I just don't know enough about this type of magic. Some types of magic have a catalyst, a word or a gesture that helps the mage's mind focus on what he's trying to accomplish, and allows him to cast the spell easier. However, I've never read anything that makes me think that your type of magic would need anything like that."

  "What do you mean?"

  "It doesn't matter. You never said anything before your magic enveloped you, and I didn't see you gesture anything either. I don't think your magic works that way."

  "Just humor me," Drom told him.

  "Well, do you remember when Sloan cast that fireball at you?" Drom nodded. "When he did, he used a short phrase to help
focus the spell."

  "I sort of remember him saying something, but I don't know what it was he said," Drom recalled.

  "That's the sort of thing I mean by a catalyst," Raiste said. "I don't know what words he used either, but I know what they were for. There are several types of magic that use such words or phrases. Others, like I was just saying a minute ago, use small gestures to cast the spell. There are even those that use both. Not all magic needs something to focus it. Some magic that does use a catalyst doesn’t even need it, it simply makes it a little easier for the mage to concentrate. As far as I can tell, yours doesn't need anything at all. Why? You didn't say anything or make any sort of gesture before you used your magic, did you?"

  "No. I mean, I didn't say or do anything, but I remember thinking about something that my mother said."

  "You never mentioned that before," Raiste scolded. "I told you to tell me everything. You shouldn't have left anything out."

  "Sorry," Drom said apologetically. "I didn't even remember it until just now. Like I said, it wasn't something I did or said. You don't think it is important, do you?"

  "It could be," Raiste answered thoughtfully. "What exactly was the memory you had?"

  "It wasn't like a memory really. It was more like I could hear her voice. Only it was distorted, like she was far away or I was hearing it underwater. It was the same thing I told you about when I named Ocean's Hand."

  "You mean the thing about mountains toppling and such? And you heard it in your mother's voice?"

  "Yes, that's it exactly. I mean, I know it was all in my mind, but it sounded like her voice."

  "That might actually be your catalyst," Raiste murmured, his voice so low that Drom wasn't certain if he was talking to him or simply thinking out loud. Suddenly coming to a decision, he raised his voice to a normal level. "Alright, let's try this again. This time, try to think of those same words that came to your mind that day. Bring them back to your mind as best you can. Focus on the targets like you have been, only bring those words in your mind as well. Say them to yourself in your mind, like a mantra."

  Raiste tied new branches to the ropes, replacing the old ones. "Whenever you're ready," he said once he had finished.

  Drom concentrated, this time bringing to mind the words he had remembered that day. At first, the words repeated in his mind came in his own voice, but after the first few words the sound changed. Once again he heard his mother's voice, in the same hollow, reverberating sound he had heard once before.

  Even the greatest of kings must bow before the awesome weight of the ocean. Mountains have toppled and entire civilizations lost with only one wave of the ocean's mighty hand.

  All around him the wind began to howl. The trees bent under the power pushing against them, nearly buckling them. Some of the branches, the weaker, smaller limbs along the tops, broke off altogether, only to be carried out of sight by the mighty gale. As before, a bright, almost blinding blue light surrounded Drom, and ran down the length of Ocean's Hand as well. Drom could feel the energy filling him, binding with the very fabric of his being.

  With a single swing he stuck at the hanging targets, slicing through four of them neatly. With a slight twist he spun around entirely, allowing the blade to continue on its path, and bringing it in line for a second strike, which sliced through six more. With a small step and a slight motion, the blade came down a third time, and the remaining branches toppled slowly to the ground.

  "Oh my," Raine voiced softly from the side of the building. The magical light winked out of existence as both men turned at the sound of her voice. They hadn't expected her return so soon.

  "Raine!" Raiste said in surprise. "I didn't know you were standing there."

  "I was just fishing out back when this crazy wind came up from out of nowhere," she explained. "It seemed to be coming from here, so I came over to see what was going on. I take it that was the magic that the two of you have been trying to unlock? Now I see what you were talking about, and honestly I'm still not sure if I can believe what I just saw. I've never seen anyone move that fast before. Not even you Raiste."

  Really? How fast was I moving? It didn’t seem like I was moving any faster than normal.

  "You've only seen a little bit of what he can do," Raiste told her proudly, as if it had been him who had such power. "I don't know everything he can do, but he can certainly draw in magical attacks that are used against him. Any of those powers alone would make him formidable. All of them together will make him one of the most dangerous men alive."

  "I can understand why. So how did you unlock it?"

  The two men filled her in on what she had missed. "So basically he hears his mother's voice, and that brings out his magic? I've heard of being a momma's boy, but that's taking it to a whole new level," she joked.

  "Hey! That's not true at all!"

  Raine laughed. "I'm just kidding with you Drom. Don't take things so seriously."

  "Now that we know how to unlock your magic, you can start to work on your stamina," Raiste said, changing the subject. “There would be enough time for joking around later. While you were using your magic, how did you feel about your fighting technique?"

  "It was completely different this time," Drom informed him. "Ocean's Hand felt light as a feather, and each move felt as natural as breathing. It was even easier than last time. I just did what felt right, and everything seemed to flow together."

  "That's what I thought it would be like," Raiste said happily. "The more practice you get while using your magic, the easier it will be for you. Your stamina should become stronger as you go as well. I wish we had a way to test your ability to absorb attacks. It's something I don't know anything about. At the very least you can now practice your swordsmanship while under the effect of your magic. How do you feel right now?"

  Drom thought about it for a moment before answering. "I'm a little tired, though nothing like what I felt like after the battle with Sloan and his men. I think I can continue practicing for a while longer."

  "Good. Last time you used it for a longer period of time, so that's not a surprise. I don't think we need to bother setting up targets for you to attack. From here on just amp up your power and practice your form. The more you use it, the better you'll understand it, and the faster you will be. Such petty targets won't make a difference when they don't pose any resistance to your sword."

  "I'm going to go back to my fishing now, unless you need me for something," Raine told them. "Try to keep the wind down to a dull roar, if that's at all possible."

  "It won't be," Raiste assured her. "He's not summoning or controlling that wind. In fact, I'm fairly certain that it's not wind at all, not in the strictest sense. I felt that same thing when we fought Sloan, and we were inside a building at the time. If that was only wind, you wouldn't feel it inside a building. I think that wind is nothing more than a blow-back of his power. It's so strong it affects the very air around him. There's no way for him to control it, though in time he might learn to control how much power he's putting out. Right now he's using everything at once. You don't need to worry too much. He won't be able to practice for long with his magic. Until he builds up his stamina, I don't think he'll be able to hold out for more than a few minutes at a time."

  We’ll see about that!

  Drom silently vowed not to stop his practice with his magical power until he had no other choice. He knew that Raiste didn't think he would last long. It hadn’t really been necessary for him to say it out loud. Raine chuckled lightly and left, heading for the waterway that ran right behind the home. Drom once again turned back to his practice, with Raiste looking on.

  Now that he knew what he needed to do to spark it, the magic came far easier to him than it had before. He started out practicing the techniques that Raiste had been teaching him, but now he felt something else underneath it, hidden just beneath the surface of the form. Slowly something new, a technique that he hadn't been taught, began to take shape in his mind. Without thinking about
it he slipped into this new style.

  Like the form Raiste had been trying to teach him over the past few days, this style utilized continuous motion. The blade went from one attack to another without pausing, even for a moment. Like water flowing over a river stone it just continued on, a never ending torrent of movement.

  Somehow, he could sense that the defense of this new form came, not from blocking directly like the forms he had studied would, but from striking an oncoming weapon with an opposing strike of his own. Raiste was right. This was not a style he could be taught, but something that came to him instinctively, and was entirely his own.

  He continued practicing for a full hour before his strength finally gave out. The blue blaze that shielded him disappeared, and he swooned like a drunken sailor, nearly falling. Without being asked, Raiste, who had stayed nearby watching the entire time, caught him from underneath, holding him upright. With the assassin's aid, Drom made his way into the estate, finally plopping down on the couch in the living room.

  Trick, who had spent the majority of the past few days perched in a corner of the banister that orbited the entry room on the second floor, flew down into the room and landed on the couch above Drom's head, chirping an inquiry. Drom looked back at the small dragonling, but didn't even have the energy to answer him. The dragonling looked over to Raiste, who didn't give an answer to the creature either. With a sound that Drom had never heard before, but sounded to him very much like a huff, the creature flew back out of the room.

  "Don't worry, you'll be just fine," Raiste assured him. It almost sounded to Drom like he was trying to convince himself more than anyone else.

  Drom couldn't give an answer. When he tried his words were slurred, as if he had been drugged.

  "Is everything alright?" Raine asked, running into the room. Trick followed a few feet behind, chirping away in a scolding manner. "I was out back fishing when Trick started diving at me. I could tell he wanted to get my attention, and he led me here. Is Drom alright?"