Juxta, Magi

by Porter, Geoffrey C

  William immediately went on the offense raining blows on his opponent hoping for a quick win, but the other boy dodged or blocked them all, as if he practiced for this day for a very long time. After a slight lull in William's frenzied attacks, the other boy said, "My turn," and unleashed a barrage against William's defense. The boy's arm moved with such a blinding speed that William's nerves sparked to life like never before, countering blows faster than his mind could grasp. Prince William didn't intend to lose, and he started throwing in attacks with as much speed as his opponent.

  A resounding crack could be heard throughout the competition, and all eyes turned on Prince William and the other boy, with the boy staring blankly at the broken shard of a wooden sword still in his grip. William smirked, and the other boy growled. A veteran ranger tossed a fresh sword underhanded at the kid. He tossed his broken weapon aside and charged William. Catching the fresh sword in mid step, he slashed at William's head. William turned the incoming sword aside, and the melee ensued once again.

  In time the event ended for every pair of boys except William and his opponent. Neither would give ground to the other. Both sweated and breathed heavily. They paused circling one another.

  Prince William asked, "What's your name?"

  His opponent said, "Why?"

  "Cause I want to know, for when I defeat you," the prince replied.

  "My name is Simon." He grinned. "You're not going to defeat me."

  "What makes you so sure?"

  "I have to win. My father and grandfather were rangers, as far back as our line can remember, lieutenants even. I must not fail. What's your name?"

  "William."

  Simon cocked his head to the side as if to get another look at the other boy. "Not Prince William?"

  "Aye, Prince William."

  "Hmmm… I thought you'd be bigger."

  Prince William snarled. "I'm big enough to win against you!"

  "That has yet to be seen, your highness."

  They noticed that they were the last pair sparring; everyone's eyes were on them. They redoubled their efforts. Neither could gain an advantage. The boys grew more and more creative in their offense, garnering cheers and howls from the crowd gathered around them.

  After another half hour or so, Rollin leaned over to the king. "We have other events to attend to today, my liege."

  The King shouted, "They've both demonstrated enough skill, and their time is up." The king pointed with two fingers at the boys. "Start those two at the rear in the races."

  Rollin laughed.

  Veteran rangers passed out wooden chits to all the victors of the sword fights.

  Simon looked to William who shook his head back and forth.

  Rollin shouted, "The foot race!"

  The contestants all lined up in rows with the smallest boys at the beginning, and older, wider, bigger boys lined up in front of the prince and Simon. He made eye contact with the prince. Simon pointed at his chest with his right hand, and then made a motion to the right in a hooking fashion. The trumpeters blew their horns. The boys hollered and took off in a run.

  The track looped left, and Simon ran to the far right outside. Boys jostled for space pushing and shoving, while Simon passed them pushing on the ground with timed precision. The prince soon followed in his footsteps racing past the pack on the far right.

  Simon reached the front of the pack and cut left to take the lead. The thunder of the other boys' shouts and the hundred pairs of footsteps hounded Simon's ears. William passed the head of the pack and cut in to the left within almost arm's reach of Simon.

  Their legs started to burn, and both boys slowed their pace a little with only a tiny bit of breathing room between them and the rest of the struggling group. Simon passed the finish line first and tried to catch his breath. He collapsed on the ground. After a few moments he shouted, "We didn't properly measure a mile back home!"

  Grinning veteran rangers passed out wooden chits to the first fifty boys across the line.

  They brought out horses, and let each boy pick their own horse, with the smallest boys choosing first. Simon and William picked last. They lined up on the mile track.

  The horns sounded, and hooves thundered. Simon and William cut right to go around, but the pack spread out to the right, and they found themselves having to wade through.

  The boys all kicked and howled. Simon steered his horse into the inside pushing other horses out of the way. William whispered promises of countless fresh apples to his horse. Both boys finished near the front of the pack.

  They stopped for lunch, feasting on beef stew and biscuits. The king and queen lined up at the end of the chow lines and ate with the commoners.

  Rangers passed out bows and quivers to all the candidates. A hundred targets stood in a row, and the boys lined up at ten yards away. Nearly every boy hit his mark. They turned and walked to the 20 yard markers. A few boys missed, but at least eighty of the candidates hit their targets.

  They moved to 30 yards, then to 40. Finally seven boys walked to the 50 yard markers. One of boys said, "First try, and I'm in."

  Simon smiled a private little smile.

  Another boy said, "We're in for sure."

  The seven of them lined up and fired arrows. Simon, William, and one other boy's arrows hit the marks. The three boys started walking. The boy walking between Simon and William said, "Nobody ever hits the mark at 60 yards."

  Simon said, "I've done it."

  William nodded. "Yes, I usually practice at 60."

  The middle boy said, "I bet you don't hit the mark all the time at 60."

  William laughed.

  "Just because I said I've done it doesn't mean I've done it more than a handful of times," Simon said.

  The three boys reached the markers, turned to face the targets, and raised their bows high.

  A gust of wind caught all three arrows. All three missed.

  King William sounded the horns again, and everyone assembled before him. He spoke with a loud commanding voice, "Those of you with three or four wooden chits are now ranger cadets!"

  The new cadets cheered.

  "Say goodbye to your families, and locate your new sergeants." The king turned to Rollin. "Invite the champion of the field to my table."

  Simon's father and grandfather joined Simon on the field. They were dressed in the same worn, but clean style of clothes as Simon. His father said, "Congratulations! We knew you could do it!"

  "I fought the prince! He's really good!"

  Rollin approached them. "Lieutenant! I should have seen your hand in that one's training."

  Simon's father bowed. "Sir Rollin, you honor us with your presence."

  "Nonsense, Lieutenant. We've served together, until your retirement, and the boy here is going to go far in the rangers."

  Simon's voice squeaked. "I'll be happy to make lieutenant, sir!"

  Rollin looked to Simon's father. "How long do you plan to stay in Lynken?"

  "We leave on the morrow…"

  "We'll have to do our drinking in earnest tonight to make up for lost time since your retirement."

  "Sounds like another good plan, my friend."

  Rollin pointed at Simon. "And you. You've been invited to the king's table for dinner."

  Simon said, "I wouldn't miss it."

  The king put on a great feast that night. Prince William and Juxta sat together to the king's right. Simon entered the room looking for an empty chair. Prince William waved and smiled at him. Simon shrugged, but he sat down next to the prince.

  The food was served. Simon kept looking in the direction of Rubie and Teresa in between bites.

  He asked, "Who is that?"

  The prince answered, "My sister?"

  "No. The girl next to her with the black hair and green eyes."

  Juxta and William laughed. Juxta poked Simon in the ribs. "That's the princess's handmaiden, Teresa. She's out of your league, Cadet."

  "Out of my league. I think not!" Simon said.

/>   "After the feast, there'll be dancing. Ask her to dance," William said.

  "Dance?"

  "Yep," said Juxta.

  As the feast wound down, the court's musicians entered the hall and began to play. The ranger lieutenants and captains singled out serving maidens to ask to dance. They danced in earnest.

  The prince punched Simon on the shoulder. "Go ask her to dance, or are you chicken?"

  Before Simon could answer, Juxta said, "He's chicken!"

  Simon got up and strode to where the princess and Teresa sat. Both girls looked up at him.

  He extended a hand to Teresa. "May I have this dance?"

  She scowled at him. "How dare you?"

  "Well, I--"

  "How dare you ask me instead of the princess? You've insulted her honor!"

  "But, but, she's a princess, and I'm a cadet…"

  Teresa shook her head back and forth slowly. "That's no excuse! You'll surely face the gallows!"

  Simon pulled at the collar of his shirt. "Gallows?"

  The girls broke into laughter.

  Rubie asked, "My brother put you up to this, didn't he?"

  Simon thought quickly. "Yes!"

  "You were the best of the candidates at the trials today, yes?" Rubie asked.

  "Well, the prince and I--"

  “He doesn't count as he did nothing but train for months and years," Teresa said.

  The princess asked, "Were you really going to dance with my handmaiden?"

  Simon's head bobbed up and down. "Yes, your highness!"

  The girls laughed at him again. Teresa stood up and wrapped her arms around Simon, closer than he expected. His body kept threatening to spasm, but Simon got the hang of it after a few dances.

  Chapter 4

  After learning to decipher the common language of Lynken, Juxta could read most of Hebron's books. Some of the first books Hebron gave him to study taught the ancient tongue and druidspeak. Hebron assured Juxta mastery of the languages would be pivotal to learning magic. After weeks of study, Juxta didn't complain directly, but the boy fidgeted more and more, taking frequent breaks to rub his eyes and stretch his neck.

  Hebron stood up from his table and walked over to stand above Juxta's form. Hebron paused for a few moments simply rubbing his chin, with his left hand tucked behind his elbow. "Juxta, you've read about drawing force from around you."

  "Yes," Juxta said as he looked up from a book, "I've tried the exercises to clear my mind."

  "Good, you're going to learn your first spell today. It involves drawing in power, applying a symbol, and using a word of power, understood?"

  Juxta paused. "Yes, Master."

  They went into the backyard, and Hebron set a metal spike upright in the ground. He took a melon and set it on the top of the spike. Then he stepped back to where his apprentice stood and said, "Now, pay attention…" Juxta stared intently at his master. Then Hebron whispered, "Shoc." Juxta's eyes darted to the melon, and a bolt of lightning hit the fruit from above with such force that it exploded. Hebron moved to replace the melon with a fresh one.

  Juxta stared at the charred pieces of debris that lay in a near circle on the ground. "What symbol did you use?"

  "A triangle. You try it."

  Juxta tried it, nothing, again and again. He grimaced as he tried and tried to draw power into himself. Hebron said, "Gathering power is like working a muscle. It'll take much time and practice before you can split the melon."

  Juxta spent the rest of the day trying, and in the end he stopped from exhaustion.

  The old master asked, "You're tired?"

  Juxta nodded.

  "You're doing it right," Hebron said.

  "Great news…" Juxta said.

  Hebron laughed.

  Juxta practiced alone in the backyard staring at the slowly rotting melon. He started to notice a slight tingling in his fingertips as if he moved indoors from chopping firewood in the dead of winter.

  The tingling in his fingers grew almost bothersome, and he went inside the house. He found Hebron asleep on the couch. The apprentice sat and waited while his master slept. After a while Hebron stirred.

  "Master, I've noticed the slightest of tingling in my fingertips," Juxta said.

  Hebron smiled wide and nodded. "That's the magic. You must learn to draw it through your fingertips into your arms until it reaches your heart. Then, the word of power."

  Juxta shrugged his shoulders. It’s never going to work. It’s all been a huge waste of time.

  "It'll take time, Juxta. The more you practice the stronger you'll become." Hebron rolled over on the couch. "Now, let me sleep."

  Juxta returned to the backyard. He practiced the exercises and chants until his palms began to tingle. Days passed, and he began to draw in more and more power until it pulsed in waves through his fingers, hands, and up into his arms.

  Hebron stepped into the yard interrupting Juxta's concentration. Hebron said, "You could spend more time with the books."

  Juxta shook his head.

  Hebron looked at the rotting melon. "You need a new melon."

  "I don't think that's going to help, Master."

  "It's going to be weeks before you blast your first melon."

  "Why do I have to summon the magic all the way to my heart?" Juxta asked.

  "You don't. It's just best."

  "What if I said the word of power before the magic reached my heart?"

  Hebron blinked his eyes a half dozen times. "You might produce a small spark, but you won't destroy the target, better for you to wait."

  "I want to try it."

  "Magic is often crafted more by the wielder than any sort of law that we've found…"

  Hebron stuck a new melon on the spike and walked to stand next to Juxta. He placed his hand on Juxta's shoulder. "If you want to try, go ahead."

  Juxta smiled. He began pulling in power until it pulsed in his forearms. He pointed his right hand in a claw at the melon. "Shoc!"

  Nothing happened. Hebron whispered, "Did you remember the triangle?"

  Juxta looked up at Hebron.

  "You can't do half a spell, boy. Do it right this time."

  Juxta glared. He held his arms rigid at his sides as the tingling raced through him. He drew a triangle over the melon. "Shoc!" Lightning crashed, but the melon didn't explode.

  "Very impressive, but you must draw the magic all the way in to your heart."

  "Master, the power welled up in me, and then all at once, it just burst forth and drained me dry," Juxta said. "I'm weak."

  Hebron reached out and patted the boy's head. "You're too young…"

  "No. I'll learn."

  "We'll see… You didn't get a nose bleed. Do you have a headache?"

  "No."

  Hebron's his right eye squinted closed. "You aren't lying to me are you?"

  "No. I don't have a headache. I just feel tired."

  Days blurred into weeks. One bright and shining morning, Juxta started his first mantra of the day, and the power reached his heart. He pointed at the melon with his right hand while drawing a triangle. He said, "Shoc!" Lightning blasted the melon into countless pieces of scarred fruit. Juxta fell to the ground and merely lay there breathing. Hebron stepped out into the backyard. Seeing Juxta on the ground just lying there, the old wizard went to the well. He withdrew a bucket of water and splashed it on Juxta's face.

  Bastard! Juxta sat up and wiped water out of his eyes. "What was that for?"

  "Oh. Well. To wake you up. I thought you had slipped away."

  Juxta wagged his body like a happy dog to fling the water off. "I was just resting."

  "Hopefully, in time, drawing in force will be no more taxing than carrying a book across a room."

  "Some of the books you have are very heavy."

  Hebron smiled.

  Juxta learned the symbols and words of power for other spells: a fire spell, a shield spell, which was a simple sphere but no word of power, and a green bolt. They started using wooden
targets instead of melons as they ran short of melons. Juxta returned to the castle exhausted every night. Thankfully, the king assigned him a horse, so he didn't have to walk to Hebron's everyday.

  *

  Simon and William joined up with their ranger squads the day after the trials. They traveled northeast from Lynken's capital. They followed no road, but no fence ever stood in their way, and the rivers and streams were easily forded where they reached them. They turned a corner around a hill, and a great wooden structure loomed in the distance. Houses and barns stood here and there outside the structure, and fields of grain and orchards etched the landscape in the distance.

  Their lieutenant, an older man with tired and worn leather armor, who carried a blade with a green emerald in the hilt, addressed his troop. "This is Raleg. It isn't on any maps. There are no unguarded paths that lead to it. You'll learn and study our ways here. Welcome to your new home."

  Ranger cadets cheered in unison. William and Simon had taken to riding beside each other, and Simon nudged William. "You knew of this place?"

  William said, "No. This is the first I've heard of it."

  "I can't wait to see it up close."

  "I'm kidding, you idiot. Of course I knew of Raleg."

  Simon closed his eyes and smirked.

  As they rode towards it, they got a better grip of its structure and sheer size. Nearly a mile across, walls twenty feet high, with towers spaced out every 200 feet or so. Three towers in the fort's center stretched high into the heavens, easily 500 feet tall. It was a big enough fort to hold the entire army of Lynken and then some. In one corner of the fort, grain silos rose up out of the ground. The inside of Raleg had rows upon rows of barracks, training fields, barns for horses, and wells, countless wells.

  Their lieutenant stopped the troop and shouted so all could hear, "You see the wells? Good. You'll all spend time helping to dig new ones. The experience will help shield your thoughts from the death touch of a necromancer."