Apprentice Swordceror

by Chris Hollaway

  At the gates of Navlia, Kevon and Waine rode on through, leaving behind the caravan and its hired escorts.

  Kevon likened Navlia to Eastport, but on a grander scale. Where Eastport bordered the sea, Navlia was a city that sat atop a sea of hills. The colors and shapes of the buildings were a very different scheme, less functional and more ornate. Where Eastport had been built up around trade and hard work, Navlia had not. The nobility that had been in power before the current prince, Waine explained, had taxed the people harshly and built lavishly without much thought. The basic city structure had luckily been built long ago. The hot springs that flowed from the upper side of the city were channeled cleverly through shaded cisterns that cooled to provide warm and cold water at many fountains, and carved stone canals carried waste away from the city.

  Kevon and Waine slowed as they approached the gates, making sure their medallions were visible as they entered town. They rode past the line of wagons that curved around from the southern road waiting for inspections. Curt nods were exchanged between guards and Warriors, and they crossed the bridge into the business district.

  Stables, smithies, and a tannery were among the things that Kevon noticed as soon as they crossed the bridge. Muted clanging from the north underscored the underlying tang of forged metal and horse manure. Waine explained that the louder and more foul-smelling industries were confined to the lower end of the city, as far away from the upper-class section on the south end of town as possible.

  Kevon noticed that nearly all of the buildings were made from stone or brick. He asked Waine why there was so little wood despite the nearness of the forest. Waine told him that the area beyond the castle at the south end of town had been the rock quarry the stone for the castle had been mined from. As the castle was being built, they decided a cliff would be easier to defend than a wall. The stone was used for the castle, the canal ways, and the walls on the northern end of town. To make the castle even safer, the whole hillside on the south end of town was leveled, the excess stone used to build within town.

  Kevon and Waine stopped at the first inn they found, not wanting to stay at the Warrior’s Guild on this short trip through. Kevon gave Waine money for the stables and extra fodder for the road ahead. Then, after stowing their gear, he went to find a tailor.

  Kevon had no trouble getting a tailor to start work on his two sets of robes right away. Posing as guardian to a Mage that was about the same size as himself, “Maybe a little fatter,” he whispered to the tailor with a sidelong glance, he ordered and paid for them, making arrangements for pick-up the next morning.

  Kevon returned to the inn and had the innkeeper handle the arrangements for reprovisioning by morning. He did not relish the thought of wandering and haggling as he had done in Eastport. He wanted to relax and study in peace.

  As an afterthought, Kevon wandered briefly until he found a place he could purchase inks and parchments. He bought a box full of different colors of ink in small ceramic jars, a small case of quills, and a bundle of parchments.

  Upon returning to the inn, Kevon re-read some passages in the book of Gurlin’s that dealt with the similarities of Enhancement and Enchantment, specifically the scribing of scrolls. Not having dealt with the written side of magic before, Kevon was surprised to learn that scroll making was not so very different from Alchemy. Focus on the desired effect, large detailed drawings of the runes to be used, and time, were basically all it took. The process of writing the scroll gathered power onto the parchment to be released when used for casting that particular spell. Depending on what scroll was scribed, the scroll, or part of it at the very least, would be rendered useless. Some parchments could hold several spells of certain types safely. Others could not. Fire scrolls burned to ash when cast, or worse, could explode if another fire spell was scribed on it. Water scrolls got soggy, Wind scrolls tore themselves to shreds, and Earth scrolls turned to dust.

  The book did not go into much more detail than that, but Kevon was eager to get some scrolls scribed to see if he could possibly cast spells off them after handling metal. He began with his favorite rune, choosing a light blue ink that came closest to how magic looked in his mind. He took great care in outlining the large symbol in the center of the page, taking nearly half an hour. Once the outline was complete, he began inking in the insides, holding the runic image in his mind all the while, brow furrowed in concentration. Kevon focused his entire being into every brush stroke, losing track of time and stopping only to light a candle when it grew too dark to see.

  As he filled in the last little bit of the rune on the parchment, Kevon returned to his senses, felt how tired and hungry he was. He left the parchment unrolled on the table to finish drying and left for the kitchen to see what he could get for a late supper.

  Chapter 25

  Waine was up and pounding on Kevon’s door before dawn the next morning. Kevon answered the door with a handful of silver and told the Seeker to go buy them breakfast. Blinking his heavy-lidded eyes several times, Kevon surveyed the mess he’d made of his room, and closed the door.

  Two more scrolls were laid spread out to dry. Kevon had decided to make a scroll of Light, and had broken down and scribed a Fire scroll before falling asleep. His ink bottles were scattered about, and one of his quills had dried stuck in his bottle of red ink, both ruined. Kevon estimated he’d gotten a little less sleep than a regular night when sharing watch on the road. He hoped the softness of the bunk made up the difference. He began picking up his supplies, replacing his inks in their case, rolling his completed scrolls up separately and stowing everything in saddlebags. He sat on the edge of the bed after he finished dressing, yawning for several minutes. As his head cleared and the sense of urgency about the mission returned, he shouldered his gear and left to find Waine and breakfast.

  The Warriors ate in silence, not wanting anyone to know their business or identities. Planning to murder a Wizard was not something you discussed in a town where the Arts were so highly regarded.

  When they had finished their meal, Waine took all but one of the saddlebags and headed for the stable to ready the horses. Kevon hurried to the tailor with the remaining set of pouches to pick up the robes. Disappointed that the Mage himself had not shown up to see if the garments fit properly, the tailor insisted on bundling the robes in coarse cloth bags before he let Kevon put them in the saddlebags.

  Kevon made his way over to the stable through the rapidly filling streets. After making wide circles around loud vendors that claimed to have anything that you could ever want, he rounded a corner, and saw them.

  Kevon had not yet seen any Magi in Navlia, just as he had not seen any in Eastport. He had assumed that coach travel would be safest for Magi in crowds where anyone might be armed, and no matter the intent, a brush with steel could mean death.

  This group was not concerned by that in the least. Two men in hoodless black robes were followed closely by three green-robed and hooded figures. The crowd parted quickly around the group, which strode rapidly down the center of the road. Not wanting to stand out, Kevon sidled over to the edge of the building he had just rounded and watched them out of the corner of his eye.

  The first thing Kevon noticed was their walk. Where Carlo and Waine stalked along out of habit after years of training and high levels of physical prowess, these Magi all but swaggered. Their exaggerated movements and condescending glares were practically daring anyone to come too close.

  As the group passed by, Kevon got the impression of gathered energies ready to be unleashed. Murky images of rune fragments poked at the corners of Kevon’s mind, vanishing too quickly for Kevon to even attempt to identify. A faint Fire rune floated across Kevon’s inner vision, snapping taut as Kevon noticed a tongue of flame lick up from one of the Mages’ upturned palms. The Master closest to him shot the casting Mage an icy look over his shoulder, and the flame wisped out as the shadowy symbol did the same in Kevon’s mind.

  Kevon tried to not think of any runic symbols, so of cou
rse the rune for Illusion sprang instantly to mind. The Master who had glared at his subordinate moments before now turned to look in Kevon’s direction.

  Coolly, Kevon brushed his arm on the hilt of his sword, grounding away all of his magic. The remaining four Magi turned to look his way. Kevon feigned a yawn and kept walking toward the stables. Behind him, the knot of people that he’d been standing by fidgeted uncomfortably under the scrutiny of the five Magi, who had stopped in their tracks.

  Great, Kevon thought. He’d spent so much time visualizing runes that he always had one or two dancing around in his head, needing only the spark of will to begin working. Now he would need to practice not visualizing anything. If he was presenting himself as a Warrior, he needed to be more careful about when he grounded out his magic, or find a way to keep grounded at all times.

  Waine was waiting impatiently at the stable when Kevon arrived. Kevon hurriedly fastened his last few items on his mare, and swung up into the stallion’s saddle after double-checking the straps.

  “Ready?” Kevon asked, then grinned at Waine’s mutterings.

  The Warriors rode, as swiftly through town as they dared, needing to hurry, but avoiding unwanted attention. They slowed as they passed the central fountain, which threw water hundreds of feet into the air to splash down before running off into different underground channels. At Waine’s urging, they resumed best possible speed and reached the west gates of Navlia by noon.

  Once outside of the city, they pushed the horses for a good two hours before stopping to eat.

  “You look worn out,” Waine observed as Kevon’s head nodded into his biscuit and the Novice startled himself back to alertness. “What were you doing all night?” he asked, eyebrow raised, a grin spreading across his face.

  Kevon ate his last bite and washed it down with a swig of water. “This,” he said, pulling the scrolls from their pouch and handing them to Waine.

  The Seeker unrolled one and looked at it. He rotated it upside down, looked again, and re-rolled it to hand back to Kevon. Not recognizing the symbol on the second scroll, he handed it back almost immediately. When he opened the third, he held it closer, then further away. “What’s this supposed to be, Fire?”

  As he said the word, the scroll erupted.

  Kevon, back turned to replace the other scrolls in their pouch, felt the release of magic almost as acutely as he felt the wash of heat on the back of his neck. He whirled around to see what had happened.

  Waine stood, frozen in shock, holding the crumbling ends of the charred scroll. “I can’t see!” he screamed, releasing the scroll at the same instant it reduced itself to soot in midair.

  Kevon rushed over to steady the Seeker as Waine waved his arms about, trying to feel his surroundings for a safe place to sit down.

  “Here, I’ve got you,” Kevon reassured his friend, helping him down. From what he could tell on first examination, Waine was not too damaged. Aside from the blindness that he hoped was temporary, most of the hair on Waine’s arms was missing, and his mustache still smoldered. There did not seem to be any burns.

  The scroll, which Kevon had wanted to produce a focused stream of flames, had not worked as intended. Evidently, the release of the magic by an unfocused mind had expended it all at once in no particular direction.

  But how? Kevon’s mind raced frantically as he tried to calm Waine down. I’ve never heard of anyone using a scroll but a Mage! Kevon sighed. I’ve never heard of a Mage using a sword before, either. Maybe Waine has some potential he’s never developed.

  Waine calmed as his vision started to return. The Seeker chuckled nervously. “I always thought that magic was complicated,” he joked. “If a knucklehead like me can do it…”

  “That scroll took me about three hours to prepare.” Kevon sighed. He struggled to find a way to explain it so Waine could understand. “I… bent the bow. You just shot the arrow.” He snorted softly. “Into your foot.”

  “It was the strangest feeling…” Waine said, eyes distant. “I could see…”

  “I saw it too,” Kevon interjected. “It’s what we see when we do magic. The True Runes. The clearer we can picture them, carve them, paint them… the more powerful we become.”

  “It was… fantastic… and terrible at the same time,” Waine said. “It’s not something I think I’d like to do again.”

  Kevon nodded. Inwardly, he was relieved. Part of him wanted someone else to be like him, to be able to understand him. Another part was proud of his uniqueness, elated to be the first and only to walk the two paths at once.

  “We’d better get going again,” Kevon said, making sure his belongings were snugged back into place. “Are you all right to ride?”

  Waine scoffed at the question, and after checking the straps on his saddle, swung up and was ready to go.

  Kevon was only moments behind Waine, and as he settled into his saddle and nodded, the Warriors flicked their reins and pointed their steeds back down the road.

  Chapter 26

  Travel resumed its now familiar rhythm. Evenings were far more interesting, however, as Kevon stepped up his training on all fronts. After dinner, while Waine cared for the horses, Kevon would practice controlling large releases of various types of magic, and then start scribing a scroll. When Waine was ready, Kevon would ground himself to iron before a vigorous sparring match. Afterward, Kevon would finish his scroll while Waine saw to the repairs and modifications of their equipment.

  The Warriors left the hills surrounding Navlia and were in sight of the Western Ranges in less than two weeks. According to Holten’s directions, Gurlin’s tower was near. Waine completed Kevon’s dagger-rig, and Kevon was traveling for the first time as a Mage. After so long on the road in lighter clothing, the red robes seemed constrictive. After only two days, he felt comfortable with his false limp. Instead of practicing swordplay, he learned how to use a staff for defense in combat. One set of saddlebags bulged with completed scrolls. Kevon had scribed three more each of Illusion and Light, emptying the jars of blue and gold ink in the process. He had taken three nights to complete a Movement scroll, taking extra time and scribing the Enhancement rune alongside it.

  In the calm after sparring one night before he began scribing another scroll, Kevon sat talking with Waine.

  “We’re getting close to the tower,” Kevon mused aloud.

  Waine nodded. “You should start taking a shorter evening watch. I’ll take a long night watch, and nap while you cook breakfast.” Noticing Kevon’s puzzled look, the Seeker explained further. “You’re going to be doing most of the work when we get to the tower. You need to be completely rested.”

  Kevon nodded thoughtfully, and continued readying his scrollwork supplies. I’d better rewrite the letter, he thought, and began searching for the notes he’d written weeks ago while traveling with Carlo, Rhulcan, and Marelle. His eyes glazed over as he remembered the events around the time of the revelation of Holten’s betrayal, and he rubbed the scars on his left arm. The scars made him think of Marelle. Thinking of Marelle made him think of Marelle.

  “You okay?” Waine asked, tossing Kevon an apple as soon as the Mage looked up.

  “Yeah…” Kevon sighed.

  “You look like you were somewhere else,” Waine commented. “That’s not normal. You’re always so focused on whatever you’re doing.”

  “Well, I…”

  “She must be something.” The Seeker smiled and crunched into an apple of his own.

  Kevon swallowed hard and nodded. A cascade of memories flooded over him, memories that could be put off only so long by focusing on everything else. Heartsick, Kevon sought the comfort of his Art, forming an Illusion rune. He formed a second rune alongside it, the rune of Enhancement, and flooded them both with power.

  Kevon’s Illusion glowed into being so swiftly and completely that the realism startled him. The image wavered slightly as he refocused. This was Marelle as he remembered her, her bright green ribbon above a light green dress, coy smile
in between.

  “Wow,” Waine said, peering at the image. “Hey, wait.” The Seeker glanced from the Illusion to Kevon and back again. “Is this what she really looks like, or just what you want her to look like?”

  Kevon split his concentration enough to fling a nearby pebble with a hastily imagined Movement rune, sending it caroming off Waine’s shoulder.

  “Okay.” Waine chuckled, raising his hands in surrender. “Just asking.” He turned to admire the image for the remaining seconds Kevon held it together. After the Illusion dissipated, he turned back to Kevon. “It’s nice to see how strong your motivation is. I think we’re gonna be all right.” He finished the apple he was eating and tossed the core to where his stallion was tethered. “Wake me at full dark,” he said, flopping down into his bedroll and drawing a fold of it over himself.

  Kevon nodded and returned to his writing.

  Brother Gurlin,

  Here is the book I borrowed some time ago. My student, Kalron, is instructed to repay the money I owe you as well.

  I’ve not yet had time to introduce him to our cause. Due to urgent business, I shall not. Kalron is bright, his ambition and thirst for knowledge should serve us well.

  Until we meet again,

  -Holten

  Kevon inspected the letter half a dozen times, making sure everything was perfect. He could think of nothing in it that would give him away. He called up a small flame to melt some of the red wax onto the scroll, and pressed into it with the carved stamp that Carlo had given him. He packed the wax and the stamp away deep in one of the saddlebags, and waited for the seal to set.