by Drew Hayes
His muscles were already beginning to swell as the first creature leapt for him, pincers at the ready, aiming for his chest. Grumph met the metal monster with his blade in midair, cleaving through the creature as though it were formed from rotted wood. Powerful as he was, this was a feat far beyond his usual limits. Dejy’s first spell had been one that played to Grumph’s most obvious strength: his actual physical strength. For a short while, he had surpassed his natural limits, and the power surging through his muscles made him feel almost invincible.
The “almost” was important, as three of the creatures came forward at once. One managed to reach up and leave a gash on Grumph’s arm. He quickly retreated, only to find two more were moving around to flank him. With the wind wall at his back, the room for maneuvering was quickly shrinking. Strong or not, he’d be cut to ribbons if they all managed to flank him at once. Grumph cursed the wind behind him for cutting off his escape, then immediately tossed out a prayer of thanks as a new idea formed.
Leaping for the two that had circled behind him, Grumph whipped his blade around in an exaggerated motion. As he’d expected, the nearest one raised a pincer to block. This didn’t bother Grumph in the slightest as he slammed his sword into the appendage, hitting with such force that he knocked the monster off its legs and into its adjacent partner. Grumph didn’t let it end there, however; he kept right on pushing those two metal monsters directly into the wall of wind.
As soon as they hit, they were gone, flung up toward the gods, to do with as they saw fit. Grumph spun around, facing the other three. They spread out, joining with a fourth that had been hidden amidst the ruins, but it was no use. Without the advantage from flanking him, and now that Grumph had a quick way to dispose of his enemies, he made short work of the remaining opponents.
Two more were sent into the sky, while the remaining pair was chopped into pieces by his magically augmented strength and his sword forged from the tail of a demon. In truth, Grumph hadn’t known if demon-bone was strong enough to cut through metal, but he was grateful to find such to be the case. Not only did it make his job easier, but it meant he didn’t accidently break his blade as he hacked them to pieces.
When large hunks of the defeated creatures littered the ground at his feet, Grumph turned to the next section of ruins. There would be more of them, no question, but so long as he stayed fleet of foot and aware of his surrounding, he felt confident he could handle them.
What worried him more were the dark, swirling clouds beginning to form around the tower in the center of the field. He knew there was a built-in time limit to this trial, and hoped he hadn’t lost too many minutes to battle. On sheer impulse, Grumph reached out his with free hand and picked up one of the least damaged segments of metal beetle. The vast majority of its back still held together, making it just about the right size for a shield.
Grumph’s legs pumped, the magic of his spell still filling him with power and energy as he sprinted across the fabricated remains of what had once been a small town. Part of him wondered if this trial was based on something, perhaps a legend or an ordeal one of the older mages had actually endured. It all seemed a little too real, felt a touch too specific for it to be something they’d cooked up merely to test the spell-slinging skills of applicants. He heard more rustling from amidst the tattered remains of the city, but not a single metallic enemy popped out. Perhaps they would have, had he been moving more slowly or weakly. Grumph was in no mood to find out; he merely plowed ahead as fast as the swollen muscles in his body would permit.
The spell, while potent, had the drawback of consuming a fair chunk of mana and only lasting a short while. By the time he cleared the last of the buildings and found his next obstacle, his muscles were already shrinking back to their normal size and the fatigue borne from constant exertion was beginning to take its toll. Grumph was sweating again already, an issue that increased exponentially as he stepped out of the ruins and was nearly bowled over by the wave of heat coming off the ground.
Unlike the wall of wind, there was no chance of being caught unawares by this trap. Before him stretched a wide expanse of rock so hot it almost seemed to be boiling in a few places. Even from at least thirty feet away, he could feel the heat. Up close, he imagined it would be like standing in an oven. Reaching back to one of the buildings, Grumph snapped off a piece of dilapidated wood and tossed it out into the burning expanse. No sooner had the wood touched the ground than it burst into flames, turning into cinder and vanishing from sight within seconds.
He stared at the spot where the wood had been, and then raised his hand and cast the first spell he’d ever learned—one that summoned a blast of ice magic to strike his target. The ice hit and, unlike the wood, managed to hold its shape for almost a quarter of a minute before dissolving into first water, and then steam. So, magic could resist the effect, but only for a time. The cold spell didn’t take much out of Grumph’s mana, but he in no way thought he’d be able to cast it quickly enough to hop from frozen spot to frozen spot. He went to scratch his head with his left hand and nearly banged his cheek with the makeshift shield still clutched in his grip. Grumph looked at the remains of the metal beetle, remembering how easily his magic hammer had been dissolved when it touched the creature. Yes, the wind wall had lifted them easily, but they were likely being hit by the effects of the magic there, not the magic itself.
Carefully, trying not to breathe the hot air, Grumph came as close to the edge of the burning land as he dared and rested part of the metal body on the near-boiling ground. Pops and sizzles greeted his ear, like he was throwing cold water on a stove, but the remains of the almost-beetle seemed to hold their shape. After as long as Grumph could bear to stand so close, he pulled his shield away. It was unscarred, not so much as a singe on the dull gray exterior. The ground, however, looked as though it had been forcefully cooled and was now almost normal in color. That effect quickly faded as it began to burn once more.
Grumph retreated from the heat, head spinning as he contemplated his options. He had a means to move across the ground, sort of, but there was still the issue of the overwhelming temperature to deal with. Adding to his troubles, the clouds near the tower were growing larger, the sound of distant thunder rumbling on occasion. One idea, one admittedly terrible idea, came to Grumph and he seized it. With time running short, he’d have to take some chances.
Setting down the creature remains on the ground, Grumph lifted his blade overhead and went to work.
* * *
“Not a new idea, but always a classic,” Fritz noted.
“He’s trying to make the constroid into shoes, isn’t he?” Gabrielle asked.
“That he is,” Dejy confirmed. “Looks like he’s using the innards as straps to secure the bottoms to his feet. Smart; you’d be amazed how many were wily enough to use the materials to cross this challenge but didn’t bother making good fastenings. Of course, he’s only solved one of the problems so far; that heat will knock out anyone who spends too long in it, even if they can walk safely.”
“Oh, you haven’t figured that part out?” Gabrielle grinned, savoring the feeling of being the one to have insight for a change. “Grumph solved that issue before the foot one.”
“‘Solved’ is a rather strong word,” Fritz countered. “I don’t think anyone has ever gone that route for coping with heat before.”
“Then Grumph will get to have some fun bragging rights,” Gabrielle said.
Dejy stared at the both of them, utterly perplexed. “What in the nine hells are you talking about? How is he going to deal with the heat?”
Fritz held a finger up to her mouth, which was twisted into a spiteful grin, and nodded to the field. “Shhh. Let Grumph show you himself.”
Dejy crossed his arms and mumbled something about disliking sarcasm, but watched as his student finished crafting the makeshift metal shoes and turned toward the burning landscape once more.
* * *
This was going to hurt. No matter how Grumph
came at it, no matter what tricks he employed, there was no getting around the fact that this would be a painful experience. Grumph readied himself for that as he moved carefully, halves of the not-beetle’s back bound to his feet with the bits of flexible metal that had been inside. He had experienced pain before, more than he cared to think about or would ever admit to. This wouldn’t be so bad. At least it was finite; there was a clear end in sight. Compared to languishing in an ink-dark cell, knowing only pain and fear, it was nothing. Grumph could handle far worse than this.
He stepped to the edge of the fiery ground, sheathed his blade, and began to cast. It was his ice spell, the one he’d thrown at a demon to steal its attention away from Thistle. That night seemed like a lifetime ago, despite it being only months. Then again, perhaps it was a lifetime, for the Grumph that had been lying on the ground, desperately trying to form some half-hearted spell, was a far cry from the one who wove magic from the air, calling forth elemental forces to serve his command.
Grumph finished casting and turned his hand so the blast would hit his target. It was not the ground he tried to freeze, however, nor was it the metal covering his feet. Instead, Grumph blasted himself directly in the chest. The sensation of cold that overtook him was so powerful he began to shiver; his skin felt like it was burning and numb all at once. Without wasting a moment, Grumph stepped forward into the inferno.
The heat was oppressive, powerful, and smothering, but it served only to ameliorate the cold that was clinging to him. Opposing forces went to work on his body, and the result was a middle ground that, while nowhere near comfortable, was at least tolerable. Grumph hurt in every direction—cold in his chest and fire licking at his appendages—but he could continue. That was all he’d wanted, all he’d dared hope for. After a few steps, he began to cast again before the magic of the first ice spell had fully worn off, once more hitting himself center mass with the attack.
It was slow, tortuous going, but Grumph persisted step by step. As he neared the end, his head was swimming from the heat and his chest felt like chunks of his skin were going to come off. Still, he cast one last ice spell, forced himself to keep walking forward, and finally burst through to the other end of the fiery lands.
Grumph collapsed onto the ground, unable to move as the ice spell finally dissipated. Had more of the creatures come for him in that moment, he would surely have been torn to pieces. Thankfully, it seemed whoever designed the trial had some compassion in them, as Grumph was let be for the few minutes he allowed himself to recover. At last he pulled himself to a sitting position, yanked off the remains of the metal creature, and took in his surroundings.
Only a few ragged buildings were in this new section of the field, likely tossed in purely for atmosphere. They were dwarfed by the stone tower that jutted up from the ground like the scolding finger of a buried giant. Its great height was surrounded by a swirling mass of pitch black clouds, its face constantly illuminated by crackles of lightning.
He’d made it to the final section of the trial. Now, he just had to hope there was still time. Grumph rose to his feet, took out his sword, and lumbered forward with all the strength he could still muster.
Chapter 26
Gabrielle had begun to notice a slight, subtle shift in the mood of the crowd watching Grumph. At first, they’d been a bit set against him, which had come as no surprise given what he was trying to do and how many almost certainly had gold riding on his failure. But with each successive encounter and ultimate triumph, more and more of the other mages seemed to be cheering when Grumph managed to survive. By the time he all but fell out of the fire pit and collapsed, several of the robed individuals leapt up and cheered as he lay on the ground recovering.
“I thought it would be harder for him to win people over,” Gabrielle said. “I mean, considering . . .”
“The half-orc thing?” Dejy cocked his head to the side, as though the idea genuinely hadn’t crossed his mind. “I suppose there is the enmity between their kind and elves to consider, but the only ones who make an issue out of it are those that choose to. We have no issue with half-orcs joining the mages’ guild; it’s just that very few ever try. For whatever reason, their culture doesn’t put as much importance on learning to weave magic as others.”
“Well, now I feel like I come from a town full of assholes. When Grumph first showed up, lots of people in the village acted like he was going to start gobbling up children and burning crops,” Gabrielle admitted.
“That is . . . a little behind the times,” Dejy agreed. “But a half-orc moving to town, and one joining our guild are different things. A town is merely a collection of people who live in proximity to one another. A guild is something far more interconnected. No matter who we are, what race or region we hail from, or what gods we pray to, we are all magic users. We all seek to grow stronger, and swear to protect others of our kind and the guild that houses them. Your town saw a powerful, dangerous being move close and assumed it meant danger.”
Dejy pointed down to the field, where Grumph was rising to his feet amidst the scattered applause coming from his fellow mages. “What we see is a powerful, dangerous being who is striving to become our guildmate. Our friend. Our brother. We can cheer for Grumph because his success is our gain.”
“And what a gain it will be, if he can make it in time,” Fritz added. “The storm is going to begin soon.”
“Hope you taught him a few more tricks that he’s hiding up his sleeve,” Gabrielle said.
Dejy didn’t reply; his eyes were fixed on the half-orc, on his student, as Grumph barreled past the few tattered buildings and reached the base of the tower. The last leg of the trial had begun, and he’d be damned if he glanced away for even a moment of it.
* * *
Gauging one’s remaining mana was a lot like trying to figure out how many more times a barrel could be lifted overhead before one’s muscles would give out and they’d take a nasty bruise on the skull. It was doable, but only with countless hours of practice and a complete knowledge of personal limitations. Grumph had a firm grasp on the latter, though he was severely lacking on the former. Thus, as he reached the base of the tall stone tower, he was uncertain how many spells were still left in him. Amplifying his strength had taken a large toll, and while the ice spells weren’t especially draining, he’d been forced to cast a half-dozen of them. He estimated two or three weaker spells were still available, and perhaps one more use of the new, more potent ones.
Thankfully, the door wasn’t warded and opened with a single shove. For a moment, Grumph allowed himself a heartbeat of relief. Once indoors, he should at least have some cover in case the storm started. Then he felt the blast of wind and cold water splash across his chest. Stepping in, Grumph understood the error in his logic immediately. He’d assumed that the tempest crystal was conjuring the storm outside the building, allowing it to reach full power before bursting.
What was actually happening was that the storm had been forming in the building all along; the bits in the sky that Grumph could see were merely the parts that had started to leak out. A barrage of raindrops pelted his skin and harsh winds tore at his clothes. It was like stepping into a burgeoning tornado, one not quite yet at deadly strength. Thunder roared in his ears from overhead; brilliant blasts of lightning half-blinded him and made it impossible to see where they struck. He blinked through the rain, trying to find a path forward. What his eyes missed, his feet discovered—chiefly by smashing his toes directly against a hard stone step.
Muttering curses, Grumph raised his leg and felt around. Definitely a raised stone, with another higher above it. Stairs. Stairs that were leading up higher into the flashes of sharp white, deadly lightning, but also leading up toward his goal. After coming this far, there was no way Grumph would allow himself to be halted by mere drizzle and a chance of painful death. It took far greater dangers than that to dissuade a half-orc with his mind made up.
Climbing as fast as he dared—which was not terribly fa
st at all, since he was half-blind and moving across slick wet rock—Grumph began ascending the stairs. With nearly every step, he could feel the storm intensify, rain pelting him like it was trying to get down to his bones. Idly, he wondered what sorts of spells the other, more experienced mages had cast as they endured this part of the trial. He had one that would make the climb easier, but it would do nothing to protect him from the elements. Besides, without knowing what lay ahead, Grumph was hesitant to use up the last of his mana. Great as the strides he’d made with Dejy were, he was still, at best, a novice wizard, and his pool for holding mana reflected that.
Grumph took another step upward and was nearly hurled back by a fresh gust of wind. Only a frantic scramble and his powerful grip allowed him to hang on to the spiraling staircase. Once he’d gotten hold of himself, Grumph tried to ascend once more, only to be pushed back yet again. Not coincidence then. The storm was designed to blow him away after reaching a certain point. Much as he loathed parting with the last mana he could draw, there was no point in saving it for some unknown obstacle ahead if he couldn’t make it past this one. Retreating a few steps back down, Grumph raised his hands and began to cast.
“Most mages think of casting only in terms of the spell’s school. Summoning, conjuring, illusion, you get the idea. Personally, I like to split them into offense, defense, and non-combat. As I see it, you’ve got plenty of offense in your arsenal already. Normally, I’d teach you a non-combat or two to make life easier, but since your trials are around the corner, a defense spell is probably a better use of our time. I’ll let you decide what you’d like to learn, though. A spell that will increase your toughness, giving you some magical armor against enemies, or one that will help your movement, allowing you to take positions in a battlefield that were impossible before.”