Creation Mage 3 (War Mage Academy)

by Dante King

  The crowd cheered and groaned in equal measure.

  Vam looked confusedly down at Ghar and then up at me—

  —and was just in time to catch the Knuckle Express heading direct to Chin Station.

  The force of my punch snapped Vam’s head back like he was a Pez dispenser. Then it dropped back, and the stone golem gazed at me in mute astonishment.

  I had been treating this whole match-up as more of a fistfight than a wrestling match—not that the watching golems seemed to mind in the least. So, I decided to channel my inner WWE Superstar. I let loose a roar of my own, picked the stunned Vam up with a supernatural, mana-powered rush of strength, and body slammed him on top of the prostrate form of Ghar. Then, just to put paid to the whole exhibition, I dropped an elbow into Vam’s stomach with all my thaumaturgically-enhanced weight. The breath exploded out of the stone golem like a set of bagpipes that’d had an anvil dropped onto it.

  Then, panting a little, I got to my feet and raised my arms in the universal sign of the self-proclaimed winner.

  “That… I think it’s fair to say… is that!” I yelled.

  To my surprise, after only a brief pause, the gathering of stone golems exploded into applause.

  A golem, bent and wizened by uncounted years, emerged from the crowd. He eyed me with something that might have passed for intelligence among his fellow golems.

  “You fought well, strange human,” he said. “I am chief of this clan. We will honor the terms made in front of our folk. Henceforth, we shall conduct bouts only at the time agreed upon.”

  I let out a long, slow breath. It was refreshing to know that even if these folk were outwardly simple, they were willing to honor a handshake agreement. There wasn’t enough of that sort of thing, to my mind, in the world nowadays.

  I arrived back at Zelara’s aerie about half an hour later. Madame Xel and Zelara were waiting for me, as if they hadn’t moved since I’d gone.

  “It’s done?” Zelara asked me.

  “It’s done,” I said.

  “You’re sure?” Madame Xel asked, unable to hide her surprise.

  I cupped my hand to my ear. “You don’t hear any drums, do you? No avalanches being set off?”

  Madame Xel gave me a short but spirited round of applause. “You are a fiery one, aren’t you, Mr. Mauler!” she said delightedly. “Yes, yes, yes, hot as a brand and worth two in the hand!”

  “How did you accomplish the task?” Zelara’s asked, interested coloring her voice. “You beat them at wrestling? I doubted you could do it, if I’m being honest.”

  “How did I manage it? Well, with a little bit of carrot and a fair use of the stick,” I replied. “You won’t have any more trouble out of them, though we came to an agreement that they could wrestle for one hour, commencing from noon. No point pissing your neighbors off totally. I hope that meets with your approval.”

  Zelara Solarphine said nothing for a moment. Then she walked over to one of the boulders, which looked like all the other rocks to me, and booted it. The boulder sprang open to reveal a disguised locker of sorts. Zelara reached inside and pulled out five broomsticks. Even to me, who had never seen an actual broomstick in the flesh before, they looked goddamn beautiful. The pine handles glowed like polished resin. The tails, constructed as they were from the speckled gray feathers of the harpy, meshed together to form one smooth sweeping point, like a new paintbrush.

  “Five?” I asked.

  Zelara favored me with one of her rare smiles. “My old friend Madame Xel informed me that that was how many members were in your fraternity.” The corners of those unsettling, yellow hawk-like eyes of hers crinkled as her smile widened at my obvious pleasure. “No one should fly alone if it can be helped.”

  After many thank yous on my part, and much modest shaking of her head on the part of Zelara, Madame Xel and I used the portal stone to return to the Mazirian Academy. I had the broomsticks tucked under one arm and could feel the enchanted devices vibrating with what seemed a keenness to get into the air.

  “You did very well today, Justin,” Madame Xel said.

  “Thanks for taking me to meet Zelara,” I said with genuine warmth. “I appreciate the chance to prove that your trust in me was well placed.”

  Madame Xel gave me a smile that oozed promise. “Yes,” she said. “You certainly did that. I shall have to rack my brains and think of an adequate way in which to reward you…”

  With that sunny thought, I left the room and went in search of the boys so that I could tell them the good news.

  Chapter Eleven

  I strolled through the Academy, passing into the rather captivating and quite beautiful Lambent Hall. It was the hall in which the magnificent, ten-armed chandelier hung. It was also where I had toked on the wacky-baccy pipe that sorted prospective students into their frats. I was briefly recalling the memories of my many visions during that ceremony when I was interrupted by a familiar voice.

  “Justin Mauler, I feel like I haven’t seen your rugged features in too long!”

  I turned, broomsticks still tucked under my arm and a smile on my face. “Enwyn Emberskull,” I replied. “Where have you been, stranger?”

  Tall, dark-haired, pale-skinned, and wearing her trademark thick-rimmed spectacles.

  Enwyn Emberskull was a sight for sore eyes.

  She walked sedately toward me like a Gothic Professor McGonagall during her younger days when she was moonlighting as a stripper to pay her way through Hogwarts.

  I could never help but marvel at the way Enwyn moved, as if she was queen of all that she surveyed. She was one of the Mazirian Academy’s Recruitment Officers and was tasked with identifying prospective new students. She would monitor them to see what untapped or undiscovered magical abilities they might possess. Then, if their abilities met the required standard, she’d approach them about acquiring a magical education. I had wondered, briefly, whether anyone had ever turned Enwyn down. Her slightly austere politeness and her good looks would have had me agreeing to come with her, even if it had only been so that I could learn how to conjure a rabbit from a silk tophat.

  Enwyn smiled and gave me a hug. It was a tricky business, with the five broomsticks sticking out from under my arm. She was wearing a sexy little business suit of cream leather that set off her smoldering dark eyes and raven hair. On her feet were a pair of high heels that you could have used to spit-roast meat over a fire.

  “So,” I said again, “where have you been? I haven’t bumped into you in what feels like too long.”

  “I’ve been a busy little bee,” she said.

  “Flitting from flower to flower?” I asked.

  “I guess you might say that,” Enwyn said. “Though a lot of work is being done trying to keep this hive,” and she gestured around at her at the Academy building, “from imploding and being overrun with wasps.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “Have you found yourself having to pop a few stings in certain peoples’ asses?”

  “You might say that,” Enwyn said. She pointed at the broomsticks under my arm. “Looks like you’ve been a busy boy yourself. Are those five Solarphine Sticks? How in the world did you manage to pay for all those?”

  “Expensive are they?” I asked. I had never really given much thought to the value of my new sponsor’s gifts, being more concerned with how I might use them. In fact, I hadn’t even thought about what served as currency in this world because I’d never had to purchase anything. Well, that certainly wouldn’t last, but I dreaded the thought of having to get a part-time job. I figured I’d cross that bridge when I came to it.

  “Uh, hell yes they are expensive,” Enwyn said, reaching out and running a finger reverentially along the harpy feather tail of one of the broomsticks. “They’re all handmade custom pieces, aren’t they. I heard the waiting list just to get measured for one of those is eighteen months.” She gave me a suddenly shrewd look from under her long, dark lashes. “You didn't steal them, did you?”

  I laughed at tha
t. “Your faith in my moral compass is admirable and confidence boosting,” I said. “But no, I did not steal these babies. They were given to me only a moment ago by my new sponsor, Solarphine’s Sticks.”

  Enwyn looked impressed. “I’ve never met Miss Solarphine herself,” the Fire Mage said, “but I hear she’s extraordinarily picky about who she allows to purchase her brooms, let alone sponsor. I’m not entirely certain that she has ever sponsored a War Mage from Mazirian before.”

  I shrugged. “Well, I guess if that’s the case then there’s a first time for everything, huh?”

  Enwyn regarded me thoughtfully. “And how the hell did you manage to convince her that you were the man for the job?” she asked, a suggestive smile creeping across her crooked lips. She nodded pointedly at my crotch.

  “Ah!” I said, holding the back of my hand up to my forehead in the textbook offended and aggrieved manner of a princess on the verge of fainting. “Who do you think I am? You think that I would be so cheap as to offer my body in exchange for mere material goods?”

  Enwyn laughed and shook her head at me.

  “I would, of course,” I said, dropping the act and grinning at her. “But, in this case, it didn’t come to that.”

  “No?”

  “No. I just had to knock the block off a couple of stone golems so that they’d stop disturbing her and her fledglings,” I replied.

  “If it’s not sex it’s violence.” Enwyn chuckled.

  “What a glorious world we live in, huh?” I said. “What’s been keeping your nose so close to the grindstone that you haven’t been able to swing by and spend some time with me?”

  Enwyn’s smile faded and was replaced with a look of vague annoyance. “The damned Arcane Council,” she said.

  “Those antique buttholes are giving you grief, huh?” I asked.

  “Like you wouldn’t believe,” Enwyn said. “I’m not sure if you’re aware of the extra special scrutiny that the Mazirian Academy is put under by the Arcane Council, compared to the other academies in Avalonia.”

  “Uh huh,” I said, recalling what I’d heard from Madame Xel.

  “Well, the Council is really increasing the amount of eyes that they are keeping on us—and especially on Headmaster Chaosbane.”

  I nodded understandingly. “I recently learned why it is that the Council have such a massive collective hard-on for Chaosbane and the Mazirian Academy. I thought it was just because they were worried that our dear old Headmaster was completely cocoa bananas, but it turns out it’s because the Academy used to be a training ground for the elite mages that supported the Twin Spirits.”

  Enwyn’s mouth opened slightly, but no words came out. Then she took a deep, thoughtful breath, gathered herself, and said, “That would explain a lot. Who told you this?”

  “Madame Xel.”

  “I see. Well, she has certainly been around the block and seen a thing or two,” Enwyn said. “If anyone would know about that sort of thing, it’s her.”

  I was surprised to hear this, as Madame Xel couldn’t have been much older than me. She was probably younger even than Enwyn. Of course, I wasn’t going to say anything as indelicate as that. Bandying around words and opinions about the age of the ladies in your life was about as safe as juggling bottles of nitroglycerin—it wasn’t a case of if things would blow up in your face, but when.

  “Look,” Enwyn said, putting a hand on my forearm and squeezing gently. “I need to shoot off. I actually have a meeting with the Arcane Council right now.”

  “You can’t ditch them?”

  “Afraid not.”

  “No trouble.” I hefted the broomsticks in my arms. “I’m due to meet the boys around the pool. This is quite a big deal for that fraternity as a whole, as you can imagine. A broomstick each… I’m not sure what sort of experience that will give us in terms of the Mage Wars, but I bet we can have a good bit of fun with them all the same.”

  Enwyn nodded. “Boys will be boys.”

  “Especially when it comes to flying at speed around the surrounding countryside,” I agreed. Despite the fact that I was eager to test the broomsticks with my buddies, I noticed that Enwyn looked a little troubled.

  “This thing, this meeting with the Arcane Council,” I said, “is it serious?”

  “Could be,” the Fire Mage said. “Their request to see me was. . . curt, to say the least. Chaosbane is still off doing whatever the hell it is he does when he’s not here, and I think the Arcane want to track him down so they can quiz him about a few things. They know that I handle some of his scheduling, so I’m the best person to speak with.”

  “How long will this meeting of yours take?” I asked. It was weird. There was nothing really specific about the situation that I could put my finger on—I had no idea what Chaosbane might be up to out there in the world, what schemes he might be hatching and why—but I got the distinct impression that there was a net being drawn in.

  Enwyn shrugged. “Hard to say. I think though, that the Arcane Council will be out of here in a week. How about we meet up and have a debrief of sorts afterwards? I can fill you in on everything that is going on, and you… you can fill me in…”

  I bowed my head so that she wouldn’t see the look of delighted anticipation spreading across my face. Fucking Enwyn was one of my favorite pastimes—made even more enjoyable by the fact that I knew she had a whale of a time too. There was such a thing as playing it cool, though.

  “Sounds good to me,” I said. “Where shall we meet up for this debrief?”

  Enwyn cocked her head at me. Then she removed her glasses and polished them with a black silk handkerchief that she had produced from her bra. “How about my private quarters?” she said casually. “I’ve got a small, but quite comfortable, suite up in the Tower of Combustion. It overlooks the pool.”

  “I’m sure I can find it,” I said.

  “All right then, Mr. Mauler, I’ll see you there next Friday at eight p.m. Deal?”

  “You have a deal, Miss Emberskull,” I said.

  Enwyn looked quickly around, then stepped forward and planted a lingering kiss on my cheek. It might have been my imagination, but the spot where her lips touched my face seemed to burn pleasantly even after she had hurried on her way.

  I found Rick, Nigel, Bradley, and Damien lounging about the pool when I got there. They were all nursing tall glasses of bright white liquid topped with a creamy red foam and passing the time by watching a collection of scantily clad water nymphs frolciking in the hot-tub.

  “Ah, look what the saber-toothed tiger dragged in!” said Damien, throwing up his arms as he caught sight of me. “Where the heck did you get to?”

  “Indeed,” Bradley boomed in his aristocratic voice. “Thank the gods that the snack bar here does a passable octo-prawn sandwich.”

  “What the fuck’s an octo-prawn when its not relaxing in between two slices of bread?” I asked.

  “An eight-tailed prawn that inhabits rivers into which magical effluent runs,” Bradley explained, picking at his teeth with a cocktail umbrella. “Tasty little critters, though the minor traces of magic that they feed on can have quite an unexpected effect on a man’s digestive track if he overindulges.”

  “What’re you sipping on?” I pointed at the glasses of white liquid.

  “Demon jizz,” Nigel said matter-of-factly.

  “Scrummy.” I slipped into a chair and placed the broomsticks on my lap.

  “It’s not really demon jizz, friend,” Rick rumbled, taking a gulp of his own drink and wiping his lips with the back of one enormous hand. “I don’t think.”

  Nigel pushed his glasses up his nose and pointed with his glass at the broomsticks in my lap. “Those would appear to be broomsticks, Justin,” he said.

  “Smart as a whip, you are, Nigel,” I said. “No fooling you.”

  Nigel leaned forward and squinted at the broomsticks. I always enjoyed watching him do this. It must have been how Watson felt when Sherlock Holmes put down his glass of D
emon Jizz and leaned in to have a nosy at the latest crime scene.

  “The lightness of the wood and the placement of the knotholes would denote to me that the handles are crafted from a coniferous, resinous wood of some kind—most likely of the Pinus genus. The tails are an easier supposition to make; harpy feathers instead of the usual twigs, of course. That would lead me to believe that these broomsticks are none other than Solarphine’s Sticks—the genuine article.”

  Rick pointed a sausage-thick finger at the handle of one of the broomsticks. “It says that in silver right there, friend.”

  Nigel deflated a little. “Yes, but still…”

  I waved my hands. “The point is,” I said, “that Nigel is correct. I come bearing gifts, gentlemen.” I stood up and tossed a broomstick to each of my frat brothers, proclaiming in my heartiest voice, “A merry broomstick for all, and to all a good broomstick!”

  The boys cheered, though I could tell they were somewhat taken aback by the lavishness of these gifts.

  Damien, turning his new Solarphine-crafted stick over and over in his hand so that he could admire every inch of it, looked up at me and said simply, “How?”

  “I assume that it has something to do with a sponsorship deal of some kind?” Nigel peered at the gray-silver feathers that were speckled with black, which made up the tail of the broom.

  “Another ten points to Hufflebutt!” I said, pointing at Nigel. “You are on fire today, man.”

  “You got another sponsor?” Bradley asked.

  “Yep. Solarphine’s Sticks,” I said. “The brooms were on the house, from Zelara Solarphine herself. I went and visited her with Madame Xel. Convinced her, through the expedient method of decking a couple of stone golems, that I was just the sort of high-spirited and sophisticated gent that she wanted showing off her products.”