“Take a few flakes of the silver,” Master Lenora instructed. “Give it a few seconds to absorb into your bloodstream, then focus an attack on the dummies.”
The room they stood in was extremely large and devoid of furniture, a good thing since it was used heavily in training exercises. Each student stood across from a dummy made of sticks and sacks of grain.
Master Lenora paced behind the row of red robes, her hands clasped calmly behind her back.
“Remember that there are almost infinite possibilities for how you can attack with each metal,” she added. “I want to see creativity. I want to see focus and precision. Understand and test the limits of the metal’s potency.”
Lance hesitated. He watched the others swallow their silver and he soon followed suit. The effects were instantaneous. Lance could feel the silver absorbed into his bloodstream, coursing throughout his body and with it the sense of power reserve it granted.
He closed his eyes and thought about a spear. He imagined a deadly sharp point and it flying toward the dummy, impaling it through its middle. Lance knew a stationary target would be much easier than someone or something that moved, but even so, he put all of his energy into it. Drawing on all of the silver within him, Lance opened his eyes and watched in shock as ten real spears shot from his outstretched hands and embedded their points into ten of the dummies waiting across from them.
The other students turned in shock. Quincy glared at him with a spiteful look.
Master Lenora stopped pacing and stared at him.
Lance was sure his face mirrored their surprise. This was his first time intentionally casting a spell, and he had not only struck his target perfectly, but also nine others with sharp steel.
“That… was unexpected,” Master Lenora said. “Come take a walk with me, Lance. The rest of you continue to practice.”
Lance couldn’t help but feel the gazes on his back as he followed Master Lenora in a hurried hobble. His leg was aching and his body felt tired from the exertion of a spell far too powerful than he had anticipated.
“Some students are stuck in red robes for half a year or more,” Lenora said. “Some students don’t even make it further. “Your first spell was equal to that of a robe just below Master level. We have not seen potential like that for four decades and that was from Master Sellius himself.”
“I only meant to throw one spear,” Lance stammered. “And I didn’t even know if it would work. I’ve never done anything like it before.”
“Which proves that you have an extreme amount of raw, natural talent. You just need to learn to harness and focus it.”
They walked down a hallway empty of people.
“I do not wish to see such talent go to waste,” Master Lenora told him. “You must try even harder than others because your potential is that much greater.”
Lance nodded, unsure how to reply.
“Your talents will bring many enemies into your path, those who are simply jealous and others who mean to do real harm” Lenora warned. “You will need to stay vigilant and strong. For now, let us keep this discussion between us. Let’s head back to the training room.”
* * *
Later that night, Lance readied himself with what he was going to say to Master Sellius and how he was going to go about asking for help in taking these people down. He reached for the door when he heard a noise behind him. If his leg wasn’t hurting so much he might have been able to turn around faster, but as it was, the time it took allowed a man dressed in black to enter the window.
Lance backed toward the door, but the man was on him fast. His face was lined with scars and his eyes had a hungry, dangerous glint to them. A knife pressed into Lance’s chest and he found himself holding his breath.
“Going somewhere? Don’t even think about yelling,” the man hissed. Lance could smell the man’s foul, hot breath on his face and he flinched backward. The knife followed, digging into his skin with a sharp reminder of the predicament he was in.
“Do you know who we are?”
Lance nodded.
“We are the Dark Ones and our name brings fear across the kingdom,” the man said. “The crystal we seek is sought by people far more powerful than us. If we do not get it, everyone will die. When will you get it?”
“I… I was just going to go get it,” Lance lied. His voice wavered, but he hoped the man would mistake it for fear.
“Well, just in case, I want to remind you what is at stake.” He took the dagger and held it to Lance’s neck. “If you do not deliver, I will slowly and methodically cut your head off. Then I will kill every other friend or family you have, including that girl you were talking to, the one we now know is called Charlotte.”
“Leave her alone!” Lance growled.
The man smiled. “This is why the Dark Ones are so powerful. Everyone else allows friends and family to become attached and it becomes too easy to extort them. If you do not deliver, I think I will kill her first, in front of you. I want you to watch as…”
Lance had enough. His blood was practically boiling in anger. He held his hand up and the attacker flew backward, into the stone wall and crashed through it. His voice called out in pain and shock as he plummeted to his death to the courtyard below.
Lance ran to the hole in the wall and peered down below at the guards starting to surround the body.
“Oh, crap…”
* * *
Greyson sipped his tea and savored its hot, minty flavor. He tried to relax his mind and picture everything working out as planned. He leaned back in his chair and took in a deep breath of air, letting it out slowly. If things worked out, he would be a very wealthy man. He could retire from this life of crime and live out a peaceful, wonderful life in a castle of his own if he wanted. He could hire a personal army. He could have ten wives waiting on him. He could…
His thoughts of grandeur were interrupted by a incessant knocking at the door. Greyson groaned. This had better be important.
“Come in!”
One of his messengers stumbled inside, out of breath and sweat dripping from his clothing.
“What is it?” Greyson demanded.
“Martin… dead. Fell from a palace tower…” the messenger said through short breaths.
Greyson grabbed his tea cup in both hands and squished it, shattering the glass into dozens of shards. His hands bled from several wounds, but he ignored the pain. Greyson tossed the pieces at the wall and slammed the table, standing up and moving toward the messenger. The man practically trembled as Greyson approached.
“I told Martin to be careful. I told him how important this was,” Greyson said in a soft whisper, inches away from the messenger. “Listen to me closely. Tell the Drakaran the meeting is still on, we just need more time to procure the crystal. Tell them a situation came up that makes it more difficult, but we will deliver. If needed, reduce the price for our delay.”
The messenger gulped. “Sir, I don’t know how they will take it…”
“Are you questioning me?”
“No, I will go right away,” the man stammered.
Greyson cursed to himself as the messenger ran off into the night. The part that bothered Greyson the most was that the messenger was right. The Drakaran would not be pleased.
Chapter 7
Lance stood in a room he didn’t even know existed until today. Unlike the stone floor in the rest of the parts of the castle he had been to, this one was made out of fine marble, polished so cleanly that he could see his own reflection in its smooth surface.
The room was home to many fine tapestries hanging on the walls depicting Masters Lance did not recognize but logically assumed they were Masters from throughout history. In front of Lance sat four Masters at a long wooden table painted black, among them Master Sellius himself. All of them wore the black robes of their positions and held concerned looks on their faces. Lance felt the full weight of their stares as he stood uncomfortably in front of the table.
“Let me start by
stating something very important,” Master Sellius said after a silence that lasted way too long. “The only reason we have not kicked you out to fend for yourself is that you show a tremendous amount of potential according to Master Lenora. That being said, you have brought us a veritable war with the Dark Ones, one we were hoping to avoid. Their network is strong and spread out throughout the kingdom. A direct war would be… devastating. There is one thing that still baffles us and we need an honest answer. Why are the Dark Ones after you?”
Lance sighed. “I was on my way to see you when that man attacked me. I was going to tell you everything and ask for your help.”
“And what is everything?” Master Sellius asked.
“My eye… my leg… everything that is a physical disability was because the Dark Ones tortured me. I escaped using magic. At the time I had no idea how I broke free, but did not want to second guess my luck. I spent a while lying low and doing various work for food, but soon realized I needed a real job if I was going to survive with any hint of dignity. That’s when I tried out for the royal guard and you saw me from the balcony.”
“Interesting…” Master Sellius said. “And why were the Dark Ones torturing you and still pursue you to this day?”
“The crystal you took from me, Sir,” Lance explained. “They said they need it for some deal they are making.”
“That was days ago,” Master Sellius said, his eyes narrowing. “Why didn’t you come to me sooner?”
“They threatened my life and my friends several times,” Lance replied. “It is only until recently that I got the courage to come see you. The man last night was there to warn me again and make sure I stole the crystal back and brought it to them.”
“And how did you come about obtaining the crystal?” Master Sellius pressed.
Lance hesitated. “That is something I am sworn not to speak about. All I can tell you is that I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Trust me when I say I want nothing more in the world to sever my ties with them and continue my studies here. I want to succeed and I want to abide by the rules.”
Master Sellius relaxed his stern visage and sighed. “You have every right to be scared. The Dark Ones have many powerful fighters among them. You will continue to study here. I will coordinate with the others and the king on how we should handle this moving forward. For the time being, we will be switching your room and you will be confined to the palace on weekends until further notice.”
Lance didn’t protest. They were being more than fair considering the circumstances and he didn’t want to push his luck.
“Now go back to your studies before I change my mind,” Master Sellius told Lance. He then turned toward his left and addressed the Master next to him. “Request an audience with the king. We need to take action.”
* * *
Greyson was speaking with three of his men when the door burst open, slamming into the wall, its hinges now barely hanging on by a thread.
His men drew their swords as a Drakaran General stepped through the entryway, so tall that he had to duck in order to avoid the frame. His body was covered in obsidian armor except for his face, pale white with sunken, red eyes.
The Drakaran General ignored the men with swords, unperturbed in the slightest by their threat, and focused his attention on Greyson.
“I am General Crowl. You sent us a message and I wanted to personally deliver our response.”
General Crowl grabbed a sack off of his shoulder and held it out in front of him. Opening it, he revealed the bloody head of Greyson’s messenger.
“The Drakaran are not of this world and we do not abide by its rules,” General Crowl said. “You are merely ants to us. If we were gracious enough to strike a deal with your kind, we expect it to be carried out on time and as ordered.”
The men with swords looked toward Greyson for instructions, but Greyson held up his hand for them to stand down.
“The situation changed,” Greyson explained, meeting the General’s gaze. It was like looking into a ghost’s face and sent chills down Greyson’s spine despite his usual confidence. “The crystal was moved to a more secure location and we just need more time to get it. Nothing we can’t handle.”
“Where is it?” General Crowl asked.
“Our source says it is in the storage of the mage quarter in the royal palace. I have my best men working on it and…”
General Crowl raised his hand and all three swordsmen were disarmed, their blades flying out of their hands and clanged against the far wall. They took a few steps backward in surprise and fear.
“If I know where it is, I no longer have use for you or your men,” General Crowl warned.
“They have powerful mages in there,” Greyson said. “I have someone on the inside that can get it easier. I just need a few more days.”
The Drakaran General glared at him, a look that almost seemed like he was staring right through Greyson.
“The Drakaran do not fear human mages. However, we do not yet want to make our presence known to the masses. We will give you four more days. If you do not bring it to us…” He trailed off as he tipped the sack and the head fell on the floor, rolling forward to rest at Greyson’s feet.
“Got it. Perfectly clear,” Greyson said.
The General turned his back and walked off into the night.
Greyson turned toward his men. “What are you looking at? Back to work!”
* * *
Lance was just getting up from Lunch when Master Lenora came over to him. Still holding his tray table, Lance placed it back down on the table and turned toward her. Hopefully it wasn’t bad news. He doubted she was just saying a friendly hello.
“Walk with me,” Lenora instructed.
Lance noticed Quincy glaring at him as he followed the Master out of the cafeteria, through a hallway and out into a small garden. She stopped on the stone steps leading to a patch of tall flowers and bushes.
“There is something I want to ask you,” Lenora said. “You may not know the answer yet, and that is perfectly okay. What do you want to do with your life? I mean, what do you plan on doing after your training?”
Lance looked at several large bumble bees buzzing around the flowers as he thought about her question. He had thought he was stuck on a one-way track and wasn’t entirely sure what options he would have available to him.
“To be honest, I haven’t given it much thought other than making sure I stay here and off the streets,” Lance replied. “I suppose becoming a Master would be good.”
“Yes, and with your skills, so long as you stay out of trouble, you will undoubtedly get there,” Master Lenora agreed. “However, Masters do not just sit here and collect money. Some of us, such as myself, choose to teach. Others sit on the advisory board with the head Master which is now Master Sellius. Others work with the king’s army on emissary missions and during times of war. Some continue their studies and record their findings in the Great Library. And a select few even battle the beasts to the far south to keep our borders safe. There are many options within all of those choices as well.”
“I didn’t know all that,” Lance admitted. “But I’ll think on it.”
“Good, because although you have plenty of training left, I want you to take the test for your yellow robe on Friday along with Quincy and Charlotte.”
Lance gave her a funny look. “I’ve only been here just over a week.”
“And you have already proven you need harder skills to work on. Although you have little practice, with your natural ability I believe you will pass the test with ease. The yellow robes will be more of a fit for your abilities. The Master who teaches that class is excited to work with you and show you the next stages of your training.”
“I… Are you sure?” Lance asked.
Master Telora gave him an annoyed look. “Does it look like I am unsure about anything?”
“No… I… sorry. Okay, I’ll take the test.”
“And that’s another thing,” Telora sai
d. “You need to start working on your confidence. Despite your physical weaknesses, you are extremely bright and talented. Start acting like it.”
* * *
Greyson was used to getting his way, but these Drakaran, whoever they were, made him feel like an amateur. If one of them could wave away his men’s swords with the flick of his wrist, he worried what they could do in greater numbers and with greater effort.
Tomorrow night, everything would change. As the leader of the Dark Ones, Greyson usually discouraged large gatherings so they could never be taken out in one attack. However, he needed many people for the task at hand. Forty men in total sat before him in an abandoned warehouse off of a side street rarely used in the city’s poor quarter. These were hardened men, trained and loyal, ready to do his bidding.
He turned to address them with a cold stare. “Tomorrow night we will take action. This deal is literally life or death for us as a group. If we succeed, I promise you we will all be rich beyond your wildest imaginations, and trust me, I know you lot can dream big.”
“That’s all well and good, but what do we do about the mages?” A man in the front asked. “We’ve all dealt with the city and royal guard before, but never this many and not with a place crawling with mages.”
“That’s the beauty of the plan,” Greyson replied. “Hopefully, there will be minimal, if any contact with the mages. The first group will create the diversion on the east side of the palace in the stables by lighting it on fire. Make it big, boys. We need it to draw as many guards as possible. The rest of you will kill the patrols on duty, scale the palace, enter through the closest window to the storage and break the lock.”
Underdog Mage Chronicles Page 4