Learning the Blade

Alva J. Roberts

Talrin pulled his cloak tight around his thin, shattered body as he stared across the open field at the city. The gentle breeze held just a hint of the harsh cold winter that would soon be coming. It was late in the season and the Armies of Velros could not survive another winter laying siege to the impenetrable walls.

“Are you going to stand there staring at the damned city all day? Or are you going to do something?” The captain's deep bass voice broke into Talrin's musings.

“Captain, you are eager to see the city destroyed. I understand that. But as you well know, every campaign needs a well thought out strategy. I will begin when I am ready.” The chubby commander would be offended by the words, but Talrin didn't care, it was time he learned his place.

“I am in command! We are paying you enough to buy a small kingdom! By the gods, you'll do as you're told…” the captain's voice broke off in a choked whisper as Talrin's magic wormed its way around his throat and lifted him into the air.

“You are paying me to destroy a city full of wizards. Something that you and your bigoted, magic-hating Empire could not do without me. Talk to me with respect or you will be eviscerated,” Talrin said without taking his eyes off the city.

Talrin could not hide his smile; it was amusing to see how much it bothered the Velrosians to use magic. Talrin had been helping them in secret since the siege began, but now the emperor wanted him to act openly. Truth be told, he would have attempted the cities destruction for free. They had maimed him, thrown him out of the city, and humiliated him.

He was their better in every: more intelligent, more powerful. His research changed the way the world viewed the very nature of magic. What were the deaths of a few dozen servants compared to his accomplishments in the advancement of wizardry? Their hearts had been necessary for his experiments. He had sacrificed his health for magic, asking lesser beings to sacrifice more was not too much to ask. The magic was the only thing that truly mattered.

“You may want to have some slave girls brought to me. My preparations will begin shortly, and my magic is of the blood. I do not care if it is the blood of you and your men or that of others. The choice is yours.” Talrin entered his tent as he spoke, soon everything would be ready; he just needed a little more time.

***

“By the gods, did you have to hit me so hard?” Gareth asked, rubbing his arm. A welt was already forming beneath his fingers, just below where his long black hair met his thickly muscled shoulder.

“You wanted to learn the sword ,” Mira teased with a wicked smile, her cropped blonde hair seeming to dance with her amusement. Despite the fact that she was nearly old enough to be his mother, she was strong and fit.

Gareth felt a powerful attraction to the warrior, an attraction she did not seem to share.

She still seemed half scandalized by his request. Who had ever heard of a wizard's apprentice learning to use a sword? But with the armies of Velros laying siege to the city, it was the most logical thing to do. The Velrosian elite guard could not be harmed by magic, and the source of their protection was still a mystery. To Gareth's thinking every wizard in the tower should have joined them.

“Perhaps you will reconsider this foolishness; we've been up here for hours. I cannot put you in training classes. The Tower guard begins learning the sword at thirteen years of age, you are nearly seventeen. The other people your age could handle you as easily as I did. You would be nothing but a walking bruise for months, if it did not kill you.” Mira smiled as she spoke, an attempt at consolation. It would have worked better had she not sounded like she was speaking to a child.

Gareth turned away from Mira and stared out across the city. They were at the very pinnacle of the Tower of Dreams, the highest point in the city.  It was said the Tower touched the clouds and you could see the entire world from its dizzying heights. Gareth knew better; the world was a big place, but you could see the Velrosian armies stretching around the city like a dark bloodstain on the green hills that surrounded the city.

How could he explain it to her? How could he tell her his vision of the future, one of magic wielding warriors, an unbeatable army that could protect the tower and the land for hundreds of miles around them? “Mira, I am the last apprentice in the city. The others have all been sent away. I need to…”

“There he is! Kill him!” a nearly rabid voice interrupted Gareth.

“It's the bastard's son. He's a wizard too!”

Gareth turned around. Mira had already dropped the wooden practice sword and clutched three feet of gleaming steel in her hands. A group of angry men were sprinting towards them from the door into the tower. There was nothing remarkable about the men. They wore the rough spun brown clothing common among the lower class residents of the city. They looked like the people Gareth saw whenever he went to the market, only he had never seen the faces at the market twisted in such grim caricatures of hatred.

Gareth closed his eyes and reached out. He could not say what he reached with; his mind, his soul, whatever it was, found what it sought. The most beautiful music Gareth had ever heard echoed through his mind, and with the notes of music came power. It was the Song of Creation, sung by the Creator at the beginning of time to echo through eternity. The few that could hear the melody had no words to describe it; those that could actually touch it had all the power of creation at their fingertips.

Before Mira could bring her sword to bear, Gareth raised his hand. It was a simple gesture with devastating effects; the men flew across the roof of the tower and nearly fell to their deaths below. But Gareth stopped their sliding fall and lifted him them high into the air.

“Why are you attacking us? What's happening?” Gareth asked, his voice distant. It was a battle to use magic, to hear the song of the creator and not lose yourself in its beauty. Sooner or later, most wizards were lost forever to its enchanting melody. But the in his internal struggle there was a clarity, a single minded focus that he had at no other time.

“You're the bastard's son. You brought this war on us. We'll kill you, kill you all. Like we did your father!”

“My father? What did you do to my father ?” The power within Gareth surged forward with his worry and anger. He clenched his teeth shut as he fought it back down. He could not kill these men. Not yet, he needed to know what happened.

“We killed him! And we'll kill you too!”

Fire burst from Gareth's fingertips snaking across the air between them. His father dead? It was impossible; the men had to be insane. His father was one of the most powerful wizards in the Tower.

“Gareth, stop! Look into their eyes. They are not in control of themselves,” Mira urged, grabbing his arm, making his fire roar harmlessly past the nearest man's head.

Gareth pulled away with a snarl, his eyes darting to meet the men's. Their eyes had the faint green glow of men being controlled by forbidden magic. They were being used as pawns by someone. Their actions, no matter how atrocious, were not their fault.

 “Mira, we need to find my father now,” Gareth whispered still fighting the urge to kill the men. If his father was truly dead, he was not sure he could stop himself.

“Okay, Gareth. I'm sure he is fine.” Mira sounded as if she were trying to both console him and calm him; yet there was a note of fear in her voice Gareth didn't understand. The men were wrapped in air, they were held as tight as if they were bound with steel, Mira and Gareth were in no danger from them. What was she scared of?

***

Talrin walked through the tower, surveying the carnage. Smoke filled the air, the bodies of wizards and servants littering the ground. Blood lay in huge pools on the floor and splattered the walls.

His crooked smile nearly split his face in two. They had thought to exile him, to banish him from their tower. Now their tower was broken, the inhabitants shattered, and once he let the Velrsian armies into the city, the very stones on which the tower had been built would be torn down. As the blood flowed over the toes of his boots, Talrin wondered if he should collect some of the stones. He was thinking of building a new privy and needed a fresh cartload of stone. The idea of relieving himself on the wizard's home held a certain appeal.

“My lord, all the wizards are dead,” said a mewling voice, interrupting his thoughts.

“Did I give you permission to speak? I don't think I did,” Talrin said, turning to look a small rough dressed man.

“I am sorry, milord, but we have accomplished our mission. May we move on to destroying the city?” the man asked with a feral gleam in his eye. Talrin knew that it would fade soon. His magic couldn't control the peasants forever, but he might as well have some fun before his magic ran out. It wasn't as if Talrin had actually gotten to see anyone die yet today.

“The others may. I would like to see you to disembowel yourself using a spoon,” Talrin almost laughed out loud at his own command. He destroyed the wizards who had shunned him and he had an afternoon's entertainment, life could not get any better.

“Yes, milord.”

“Wait,” Talrin said, his senses suddenly alert; someone in the Tower was using magic; he could feel the Song being used high above him, “Come with me. We are not done yet. You will have to kill yourself later.” Talrin hurried to the steps and began climbing towards the source of the magic. He was going to get to kill someone after all.

***

Gareth sat on the floor of his father's study, ignoring the drying pool of blood soaking through the wool of his pants. His father's head lay in his lap, the great wizard's body already growing cold.

He felt numb and cold himself, as if death had brushed past him on its way out the door. His chest hurt, and his arms would not stop shaking. His magic bounced and jostled around inside his head, a tempest he could barely control, a tempest he was not sure he wanted to control.

“Gareth...I am so sorry,” Mira said. For the first time since he had met the capable warrior, she looked helpless.

He wasn't crying. His heart felt like it was going to explode inside his chest, but he wasn't weeping. He should be weeping.

“Your father could have destroyed the peasants with a wave of his hand. How is this possible?” Mira asked.

“He swore an oath...an oath never to flee the Tower if it was under attack…to always protect them. He would not...” Gareth could not finish the words, the tears rolled down his cheeks in rivers. His whole body hurt from the grief. He wanted to scream, but all that escaped his lips was a muted whimper. As he sobbed, his body seemed to curl in upon itself, crouching protectively over his father who could no longer be protected.

Memories and images flashed through his mind. His father's smiling face at Yule, Gareth sitting in his lap learning to read; the day his father told him how proud he was of his son for becoming a wizard. The world twisted and spun around Gareth. He couldn't breathe.

Mira's arms were suddenly around him. He had forgotten she was there, and her comforting gesture only made the tears flow faster.

“I should...have never...tried to learn the sword. I could have been here, I could have saved him,” Gareth whispered after a long while, his magic still bubbling and churning inside of him.

“There was nothing you could have done, you would have just—”

“No. I am not a wizard. I have never sworn the oath of protection. I could have used my magic to stop them,” Gareth interrupted his teeth clenched together, as his anger grew.

“How fortunate. I get to kill you myself! This day is just full of wonderful surprises,” a figure in black said as he stepped into the room.

Mira jumped to her feet, reaching for her sword, but was thrown across the room before even an inch of steel was bared.

“Deal with her,” Talrin said to the plainly dressed figures behind him. The three men with him rushed over to Mira's prone form.

“Talrin!” Gareth shouted as he leapt to his feet. He reached out for the Song with his mind, focusing; a ball of fire developed at his fingertips and he sent it hurtling toward the disgraced wizard.  Gareth knew his foe, remembered the man as a hunched figure that always kept to the shadows, and would never look anyone in the eye. His father had been one of the ones to advocate execution rather than banishment.

If only the Council of Elders had listened.

Gareth's fireball burst as it struck an invisible wall of air, the intruder's protective shield. The room shook with the noise of the ruptured magic. Gareth grabbed his ears, to ward them against the deafening sound.

A thin tendril of ice cold air wrapped its way around Gareth's leg, jerking him off balance, dropping him to the ground as it froze the flesh of his calf. Gareth howled in pain; the magic was so cold it burned. Fear coiled its way around Gareth's belly; he was just an apprentice, and an experienced wizard was trying to kill him. There was little doubt how the magical duel would end.

Gareth rolled to the side just in time to avoid an assault of pure magic. The glowing strands of power snaked their way through where he had been laying with little effect.

Gareth waved his hand through the air. A magical chain created from the very air itself shimmered into existence and floated front of him. As if it had a life of its own, the chain slithered towards the rogue wizard like a snake. The links scampered up Talrin's leg and wrapped their way around his body.

“Do you think such simple cantrips are going to defeat me?” Talrin asked, his voice full of disgust. With a flick of his crooked finger, the chains shattered, sending links in every direction.

“You bastard! I thought even you would have been smart enough to not ally yourself with Velros. When you are done here, their elite guard will butcher you,” Gareth shouted.

“From where do you think the guardsmen got their magic nullifying abilities?” Talrin asked with a wicked smile.

Powerful hands wrapped around Gareth's body from behind, lifting him off of his feet. Gareth spun in their grasp, trying to break loose, only to come face to face with his father's glazed, unseeing eyes. Gareth whimpered at the sight.

“You see! You see! How many battle magics do you know? The tower only teaches a few dozen, and I am a master of them all! But my magic can level mountains; I know a thousand ways to kill. The dead rise to do my bidding. I am the master of death! And you," Talrin cackled, an edge of madness creeping into his hoarse laughter, "you are a fool!”  He spun across the room, dancing around Gareth in his wild glee.

A sword bloomed from Talrin's stomach, cutting off his insane laughter with a gurgle. A blood-soaked scream of rage escaped his throat as he turned to face Mira's bruised face.

Gareth whispered and apology as he sent a razor sharp wave of air slicing through his father's arm, cutting it off at the shoulder. He turned to see a wall of fire engulfing the lady warrior. She screamed, dropping her sword to the ground, her hands covering her face.

“No!” Gareth shouted. He hurled himself forward, his hand darting out to pick up Mira's lost sword. The blade slashed out, stabbing into Talrin's back. Gareth's momentum knocked the little wizard to the ground, and they landed with Gareth on top of Talrin's emaciated body. Gareth howled as he stabbed the wizard again, and again, blood splattering across his face, chest, and arms with every brutal thrust.

“Gareth…stop,” Mira whispered.

The young wizard shook himself, a wave of nausea washing over him at the sight of the mutilated wizard's body.

“Mira? You're alive?” Gareth jumped off the wizard's body and ran to Mira's side. He turned the warrior over and cringed. Her face and torso were burned beyond recognition; her right arm was nothing more than a charred black lump. She would not be alive for long.

“You have to…go to the wall. The Velrosians armies will be…coming. They need you,” Mira whispered. Her eyes flickered close and last gust of breath escaped her lips.

“Mira?” Gareth cried, staring around the room. His friend was dead, his father was dead, and their killer was dead. Gareth wanted to go to bed, to leave the tower, to do anything that would allow him to escape the reality of what had just happened.

But the city needed him, needed a wizard. His father had not broken his oath of protection, not even at the cost of his own life.

He closed his eyes and drew power into his young body, more than he had ever drawn in before. His skin glowed a faint blue as he stood, bloody sword grasped in his hand. Gareth had never sworn the oaths of protection, but he would honor his father and the wizards of the tower.  

The Velrosians were going to get more than they bargained for.