Luther, Magi: Blood of Lynken II

by Geoffrey C Porter

  "Rest sounds really good right now, but only one night, not two weeks."

  "Yes, you must not push yourself too hard. Learn your limits."

  Luther nodded. They made it back to Kirl's house. The roosters woke them at dawn, and they set out to the west.

  Luther hunted in the mornings and studied the arcane text on forging a staff in the afternoon. They traveled this way following a road for over a week. Juxta led the way directly to Quann's house. An old man answered the door with a staff in his hand. His eyes lit up when he saw them. Juxta and Quann embraced in a great hug. Quann said, "Tell me this lad with you is your boy?"

  Juxta smiled.

  "He's ours for sure," Mom said. "He's Luther."

  "I'm mad!" Quann said. "You haven't visited me in so many years. And this young man is at least sixteen!"

  "We're sorry. It's all Juxta's fault. Worries more about his fiefdom than anything."

  "You really have no excuse. You should visit every year."

  "Every year?" Mom asked.

  Quann nodded.

  "I hardly visit my fiefdom twice a year," Juxta said.

  "Luther must be tested," Quann said. "You all know this."

  Juxta frowned a bit. "The real reason we haven't visited."

  "Truly?"

  "It's a long journey from Lynken. If we could fly, we'd visit with every passing season."

  "Why must I be tested?" Luther asked.

  Quann shrugged. "I think it's a pointless test, but the other Druids will want to know."

  "So be it."

  "I need to find some guards to bring the Druids together. Are you going to visit your trees?" Quann asked.

  "I'm going to feed them. I need seeds," Juxta said.

  "Then I don't need to find guards." Quann motioned with his hand for them to follow, and they went into the backyard. A small grove of trees was waiting.

  Juxta began a slow chant. The same chant as before. A cloud of swirling white magic spread out to the entire city. Trees grew, flowered, and bore fruit and seeds. Juxta cut the chant short before the seeds started to sprout.

  Quann clapped his hands together. "We'll get two seasons of fruit this year!"

  "Better to have too much than too little," Mom said.

  "Yes, of course."

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  A horn sounded in the distance. It was a deep resonating tone.

  "That's our cue," Quann said. "The Druids are ready."

  A faint hint of some kind of darkness that Luther never felt before caressed his heart and guts. "I don't want to do this," Luther said.

  "It's nothing. They just want to test you."

  "It's painless," Juxta said.

  "I just," Luther said. "It's nothing."

  Quann led the way to their amphitheater. There were no empty places to sit, and many stood between the rows of men in cloaks. A large number of the men were ancient or close to it. Each man clutched a staff.

  Quann moved to the center of the raised platform. "Stand beside me."

  Luther moved to the center. The Druids began to chant Truesight. Power began to fill Luther, like every last Druid in the room was filling him with strength. He reveled in it for a moment as he began to lift off the ground. Each flow of power was like a tendril of gray smoke that only Luther could see.

  Out of some kind of primal instinct, Luther pulled on one of those tendrils of power. The Druid it came from clutched at his chest and fell. A great swelling of energy flowed into Luther. He pulled again and again before somebody shouted, "He's Necro!"

  The five Druids on the ground stopped moving as the chanting stopped. Luther breathed the power in and out of his lungs for a few moments.

  Men started examining their fallen comrades. One by one, they stopped. A Druid said, "These men are dead."

  The last of the power drained out of Luther. He fell to his knees. "Dead?"

  The people present let out a collective sigh.

  "I didn't mean to hurt them," Luther whimpered. Tears started to pour out of his eyes.

  One of the older Druids pushed his way forward. "He's a Necromancer, possibly beyond Rivek and Balron in strength."

  Quann motioned with his hands for quiet. "It's time they knew."

  "We must keep this secret!"

  "The only way is to tell the truth."

  The older Druid turned away.

  "What secret, Quann?" Juxta asked.

  "You and Luther are life leeches," Quann replied. "Every time you kill with magic, you take a piece of that person's strength, and add it to your own."

  "The real reason you tried to get me to swear off killing all those years ago."

  Quann sighed.

  A Druid in the back shouted, "They must die! Luther must hang!"

  Druids began to nod one by one. "They must be destroyed for the greater good."

  Juxta slammed his staff into the ground and a blinding purple light burned in his amethyst crystal. "Lisa!"

  A wave of power slammed into Luther as Mom summoned a torrent of strength.

  Quann shouted, "No!"

  Luther was still on the ground.

  A Druid yelled, "They must die."

  Juxta pulled Luther up to a standing position. "Wait for them to strike."

  Then two great balls of pure molten lava burned in Luther's heart. One from Juxta; the other from Mom.

  Juxta spoke with thunder in his voice. "You think you can kill us?"

  "We'll wipe you out," Lisa said with a deep resonating voice like a quake in the Earth.

  Quann shouted, "Stand down! Flee this place."

  In almost a stampede, Druids fled.

  Luther trembled. Inside his chest were two storms of power beyond comprehension.

  Quann spoke in a quiet voice, "Calm your magic. Release the boy."

  Mom pulled her power first, then Juxta. Luther wanted to collapse. He begged in his mind for blessed darkness, but he stood strong, ready to strike, even without Juxta or Mom's magic. The Druids all ran.

  Quann hugged Luther and squeezed. "You're not to be blamed. We won't harm you."

  Luther held onto Quann.

  "The Council will see the error in their ways," Quann said. "Let's return to my house and give them time."

  "I'm a Necromancer?" Luther asked.

  "You're a man, no more, no less," Mom said. "I don't believe you'll become a Necromancer. You're stronger than that."

  "They thought I was a Necromancer, too, boy," Juxta said. "You're fine."

  Luther nodded.

  They walked back to Quann's residence. Quann slaughtered a pig and roasted it. They cooked potatoes on the side. Somebody knocked on Quann's door. The four of them answered it. Three of the younger Druids stood there. The center one spoke first, "We require your presence, Quann."

  "I have guests at my house," Quann said. "Tomorrow, I'll join them. After we bury the dead."

  Luther said, "It wasn't my fault."

  "And nobody's blaming you," Mom said.

  "They were fools to try to test you," Juxta said.

  "They weren't fools," Quann said. "Only paranoid old people who are worried they'll die from some great cataclysm before their time."

  Luther looked at his hands. "Am I the doombringer?"

  Mom hugged him. "You know the chants to counter that. You'll no more bring doom on the land than I will."

  "To those Druids, the odds of that are pretty good, I'd guess."

  "Hush."

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Luther stopped and took an accounting of himself. Something was wrong. "The Druids. Whatever I stole from them is still inside me."

  "Their spirits," Quann said in a whisper.

  "We've got to get them out."

  Mom reached over and touched Luther's hand. "Pray with me."

  What good was that going to do? Mom began a slow and simple chant. Luther didn't know the words and didn't speak them. "Say the words," she said.

  "I don't know this prayer," Luther said.
/>   "Because I'm making it up."

  She chanted in slow and precise words. Luther said each syllable with her. One at a time clouds of gray and white mist escaped his body. Each vapor form seemed to take the shape of a human, look around, bow, and bleed off into nothingness.

  Luther said, "Thank you."

  "I did it for them, not you," Mom said.

  Luther knew in his heart Mom did it for both.

  Quann stood up. "It's time to retire."

  Luther stepped away from everyone. "I have something I want to discuss."

  "Did you find a woman?" Mom asked.

  "Yes, tell us you found a girl to marry," Juxta said.

  Luther reached up and rubbed at his temples with his knuckles. "No. The thing you do, when you pour power into me, it sucks. I don't like it."

  Juxta laughed. "Focus on finding a woman so we can have grandchildren."

  "I don't want to do it again."

  "The thing is, young man, you're almost useless at summoning magic, but when it comes to wielding magic, you're one of the most powerful instruments ever. And this is true of all apprentices."

  "Huh?"

  "A master can summon arcane power from the depths of the Earth, but wielding it is a major chore. Apprentices are the opposite, so masters feed the power into the youth, and the youth wields it."

  "If you studied, you'd know all of this," Quann said.

  "Half the time, I try to study, and they claim I should be drinking cider and chasing women," Luther said.

  "You're sixteen. You should be able to multitask."

  Chase women. Study. Drink cider. Hunt. Luther would be happy perhaps building harps or carving flutes. He realized he was mostly paralyzed and somebody was carrying him. They set him on top of the blankets. Somebody kissed his forehead. He curled up under the bedding and slept like the dead.

  At dawn, he headed for the kitchen. Mom handed him a plate of sliced ham from the previous night and fresh eggs. He ate. Juxta said, "We're leaving today. I don't want to go before the Druid Council again."

  They set off heading east into the sunrise. Luther didn't hunt. He rode in the back and studied. The tome on forging a mage staff interested him, and he read from cover to cover. They stopped in Weslan, but only to spend the night at Kirl's house. From Weslan they headed off the beaten path to the northeast. To Juxta's fiefdom. They ate meals at farmhouses.

  They reached Juxta's fiefdom at around noon. A simple sign carved in wood marked the transition. They approached the capital. A tower rose up from the center of town, and a great bell sounded in the distance. Three riders trotted towards them.

  Monroe was among the riders. The two with him were just young boys, no more than fourteen. Luther remembered them as refugees from the Southland war. The history books were calling it a war, too.

  "It isn't time," Monroe said. "You're not due until the fall harvest."

  "We've come early to plant trees," Juxta said.

  "My king, we have so many fruit trees we never harvest everything."

  "These are hardwood trees, but you must always leave a few standing."

  "Splendid. Do the limbs burn hot?"

  Juxta nodded.

  "You've journeyed far," Monroe said. "Let's start at dawn."

  Juxta egged the horses on. Their house was as they'd left it. They dined at the pub. Everyone hailed them. For Luther, it was more his home than the one in Lynken.

  He slept in his bed that night. At the crack of dawn, a few men Luther knew, and a couple of women, brought food for them. After they ate, Monroe said, "An old man died, and he left no kin. His property wasn't planted this year."

  "Let me get the seeds," Juxta said.

  He pulled two huge sacks out of the wagon, and Monroe and another man rushed forward to take them. Monroe handed his bag to a younger boy, and everybody except Monroe ran off with the seeds.

  Juxta asked, "How is the Council?"

  "The five of them meet once a month in the sacred chamber, feast and drink to their hearts' content, and leave the rest of us alone," Monroe said.

  "A perfect Council then."

  "At new year's we'll elect a new five as per your order. Most men still just come to me, and I decide if it goes before the Council."

  "That is not how I have decreed it," Juxta said.

  "No, but men want me to lead. Some of the stories they tell: my only purpose in Hell was to free their souls."

  Juxta said, "How far away is this unplanted farm?"

  "We're almost there."

  They walked along a path and finally came to a fence designed to keep cows in.

  The people who had carried the seed bags stood there smiling. "The seeds are spread out. One every few feet."

  "Good," Juxta said.

  Chapter Thirty

  A sparkle of purple light flowed in the amethyst atop Juxta's staff. He said the words slowly with a breath of thunder.

  Break the Peace, Awake

  Wake the Ancient, Take

  Trees nearby whispered into the wind, Juxta. He said the chant over and over, until twinkling white flickers of magic danced all along the ground.

  Green of Spring, to be Seen

  New Life, from Strife

  The seeds sprouted and took root in the fertile soil. They stood six feet tall when the first blossoms formed. The magic was somehow contained to just this farm. When the seedlings were nine feet tall and had dropped their first batch of seeds and leaves, a quiet settled over the land. Juxta said the final chant again, and new life sprouted on every sapling. New trees grew to just a foot or two in height alongside the taller ones.

  Juxta quieted the magic. Rows of hundreds of the trees, maybe even thousands, stood tall against the landscape. Monroe clapped Juxta on the back. Watching the trees grow ate up a better part of the morning, and it was time to lunch.

  Lisa said a prayer over the feast the townsfolk prepared.

  "Tomorrow," Juxta said, "Luther, you'll forge a staff."

  It would be better to let the trees know at least some natural growth first, but Juxta was always right. Luther grabbed a chicken leg off a plate and ate.

  "By the time of your next visit, Bart will be home," Monroe said.

  "The young man you sent to train in Weslan?" Juxta asked.

  "Aye, we received word not ten days ago that his training is complete."

  "It'll be good to have a real healer."

  Monroe smiled wide.

  Luther slept well that night. Again in the morning, people brought them food. Not that Juxta and Mom were incapable of preparing food, but they had no chickens for eggs, no grain stored for a meal. No cow for milk.

  Soon enough, Luther stood before the rows of trees. Their placement seemed almost unnatural to him. He began to summon power out of the nooks and crannies of leaves on the ground. He said the words carefully.

  Break the Peace, Awake

  Wake the Ancient, Take

  Hundreds of trees howled in their minds, Luther!

  The magic flowed through his very soul as the trees began to spawn new life in the form of branches and limbs. White tendrils of magic spread out across the entire town, and thousands of voices spoke in unison, Who is waking us?

  Luther shouted, "I need a staff!"

  The chant, the chant.

  Give the Rift, Gift

  A Branch, a Branch

  Most of Juxta's trees stood twelve to fifteen feet tall. They reached up and up to stretch into the heavens.

  Give the Rift, Gift

  A Branch, a Branch

  A dozen trees dropped good sized branches. More than any one Magi could ever need.

  "Thank you!" Luther said. Idiot.

  Green of Spring, to be Seen

  New Life, from Strife

  It was mid-afternoon, and a great storm cloud rolled into the heavens above. Luther didn't stop chanting. The power flowed through him, invigorating him with life energy. The rain fell on his face, and a wicked smile spread across his lips.

&nb
sp; The sun set in a blaze along the western skyline, and Luther stopped. "So many branches."

  "They'll make for good bows and arrows," Juxta said.

  "Wait," Luther said, "let me choose mine first."

  "Choose, and Monroe and the others can collect the rest."

  Luther sent out a wave of Truesight. Each branch shone with the same intensity under his scrutiny. He picked one out that would need the least shaping. Monroe and another man collected the rest.

  They ate dinner. Luther slept with the tree branch in his grasp. In the morning, he slowly shaped the wood, trimming off smaller shoots and preparing a spot to insert the emerald he had. He went to the blacksmith, who forged a bit of silver into an effective bracket for the gem. The smith tightened the metal around the gem until it only moved when the staff moved.

  They stayed at the fiefdom for two more days. On the third day, they headed west to the main road. Luther hunted, but he used both bow and lightning. Simple matter, if the creature was close by, he would use an arrow. They made it back to their home in Lynken's capital.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Two years passed. Luther had read every book Juxta owned.

  "I want to continue my study in Weslan," Luther said. He figured there was a way to avoid Juxta's scrying eye in a tome there. He wanted to choose his own path in life, and not be under Juxta's constant eye.

  "Dueling with me is no good," Juxta said. "I don't push you hard enough."

  "Agreed."

  "I need to see the king."

  Juxta rode to the castle and marched to the throne room.

  King William stood up and embraced Juxta. "You look down."

  "My son has read every book on magic I possess," Juxta said. "I cannot push him hard enough in our duels for fear of hurting him."

  "You're coddling him!"

  Juxta sighed.

  William rubbed at his chin. "You're leaving for Weslan?"

  "You have Mathew, for the trials. In my fiefdom, they have a strong Magi, Bart. You can also call upon Timothy Drakkar."

  "It's fine, Juxta. Are you buying these books, or spending a few years in Weslan?"

  Juxta chuckled. "As quickly as the boy reads, it'll be months. I expect no more than two or three years."

  William walked around in a little circle. "There's a Ranger trial in three weeks. We need to pick one of the losers, and you train him."