A New Light (The Astral Wanderer Book 1)

by D'Artagnan Rey

  “It’s all right. I’m ready,” he assured him and gave him a thumbs-up. “I only hope it isn’t too easy.”

  “I suppose that all depends on you,” Nauru responded cryptically and turned away. “For now, use the time to train together. I’ll send Wulfsun this evening to show you to your quarters, Devol.”

  “Right. Thanks, Miss Nauru!” he called as she and the other Templars began to disappear into the woodland beyond the edges of the arena.

  The three watched them for a moment. Asla stretched her arms before she spun and stepped a few paces away from them. “All right. Should we begin?”

  “Going directly into a sparring match?” Jazai asked and rolled his eyes. “Devol just finished a bout against Wulfsun. I don’t think he can show you what he’s got right now.”

  “Then you and I will train,” she replied, held her hands up, and revealed sharp nails. “That is what the grand mistress desires, correct?”

  “She wanted us to get to know each other,” the apprentice retorted and folded his arms. “There are other ways to do that besides fighting.”

  “It is the most direct method,” Asla replied, although Devol suspected from her tone that she said this out of defensiveness rather than philosophy.

  “Are you bitter that I won our last fight?” Jazai asked with a smirk.

  The wildkin bristled at the comment and her eyes narrowed. “And I won the four before that,” she countered, her gaze challenging. “Besides, that was only due to your use of tricks.”

  The apprentice threw his hands dismissively. “Yeah, I’m a Magi as technically, we all are. My skills are better suited to cantrips and information gathering. Not brawn.”

  “Are you good with cantrips, Jazai?” Devol asked and pointed his thumb at himself. “I can only do a couple. I trained mostly in swordplay and Vis.”

  “I gathered that much.” The other boy nodded. “Yeah, I never got into a martial art of any kind. I focused on increasing my Mana control and learning cantrips. I can perform about fifty of them.”

  “Fifty?” He yelped in astonishment. “My mom can do about that many and she has studied almost all of her life.”

  “Well, that’s still impressive if she isn’t an adventurer of any kind,” Jazai responded as he held a hand out and extended his fingers. “My old man travels often, and he works in the services of not only the order but also the academy at home. His majestic isn’t great for direct confrontation, so he either had to learn a Mana or martial art. He learned all the basic cantrips and concentrated on the conjuration class cantrips as well.”

  “So is his majestic in the conjuration class?” Devol asked

  The apprentice shook his head. “Nah, he is a diviner like me. But cantrips can be learned by anyone, no matter what their natural talent falls into. It is merely harder outside your class.” He smiled as he extended his other hand. “If you think me being able to use fifty spells is impressive, he can do about two hundred—all the conjuration cantrips and some transmutations, and he has all the upgraded basic ones in the constitution class as well.”

  The young swordsman was taken aback. “Man, that is…huh,” he muttered. It seemed logical that scholars who worked primarily on Mana arts would know far more than the average person, but that was still amazing, especially for someone who probably didn’t focus on it for their profession, merely as a secondary hobby. He looked at Asla, who had lowered her hands and now stared at them as her tail waved slowly from side to side. “What about you, Asla?”

  The wildkin raised an eyebrow. “Cantrips aren’t my specialty.”

  “No, I mean your majestic,” Devol replied and gestured vaguely with his hand. “Jazai mentioned you had one earlier on the way here.”

  “Did he now?” She focused on the young scholar with annoyance and narrowed her eyes.

  “I also saw you training earlier,” he added quickly in an effort to take the heat off his new friend. “You made a large scratch on the floor like you attacked it with metal claws or something.”

  Asla pursed her lips. “We aren’t supposed to reveal the secrets of our majestic.”

  Jazai sighed and scratched his head. “Yeah, to nobodies and enemies. But we will be working together soon so he’s an ally.” The girl refused to meet his gaze and her tail drooped to brush the ground. He grinned a little as he reached for his book. “I can always simply show him, you know.”

  “Don’t you dare!” she snapped and her tail raised almost vertically as she extended a claw. She composed herself quickly, shook her head, and sighed. “Fine. Take a look.” She unlatched a pair of dark leather gloves from her belt and placed them on her hand. Devol noted a set of three claw-shaped stones on the knuckles of each glove, pure white with small, edged patterns etched within. “I’m in the constitution class.”

  “Like Wulfsun?” he asked. She glared at him and he backed away.

  She made a visible effort to relax. “Yes, like the captain. However, my majestic is not primarily defensive. It helps me tap into my more…animalistic abilities.”

  “Most wildkin majestics are like that,” Jazai explained. “No one seems to know why, but those that can be traced to the wildkin lands or particular tribes seem to focus primarily on bringing out the more animal traits of the wielder. They are probably the only majestic that can be considered a type or class of their own.”

  “Pay attention,” Asla called. Devol startled when she dropped to all fours. Her irises assumed a sharper and narrower shape and a faint glimmer of orange Mana similar to the color of her hair flickered around her. Curious, he used Vis to enhance his sight and observe her and was shocked when an orange outline formed and took the shape of a large cat.

  Before he could ask what it could do, she leapt at him with surprising speed. He drew his majestic instinctively. The claws on her gloves clashed with the edge of his blade and the bright light flared instantly. Her eyes widened as she landed and retreated hastily. “What was that?” she demanded.

  “My majestic,” he stated as the light faded and he lowered his sword.

  “I felt that…I needed to get away,” she muttered, pushed to her feet, and shut her majestic down. “What does it do?”

  “We don’t exactly know yet,” he replied somewhat sheepishly.

  “Don’t know?” She looked at Jazai for an explanation, but he merely shrugged in response.

  “It certainly does something,” the apprentice stated. “He was able to get through Wulfsun’s big shield with it.”

  “Really?” Asla asked, clearly surprised. “Interesting, but if you don’t know what it does, you are handicapping yourself.”

  “I know,” Devol conceded. “That’s why I came here to train and learn more about it.” He smiled and lifted it again. “Maybe we can find out more together?”

  “Are you sure?” Jazai asked. “Are you still in good enough shape to do that?”

  “I’m not one hundred percent but I still have some energy and Mana to spare for now. I’m sure Wulfsun will be back soon, so we might as well make use of the time.”

  The other boy shrugged, approached one of the trees, and sat beneath it. “All right. I’ll watch and make sure neither of you hurt the other too badly.”

  “You’ll have to participate eventually,” Asla insisted as she focused on Devol and brandished her claws.

  “No doubt, but I’ll let you two have fun for now.” The apprentice raised a hand and lowered it quickly. “And go!”

  The three youngsters sparred and trained together for a few hours and the earlier awkwardness between them began to fade as they learned more about one another. Wulfsun, unbeknownst to them, hadn’t left. He and Freki were able to conceal themselves in the brush and observe them through the evening, both happy to see the early signs of a team bond forming between them.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Several days passed and Devol and his new teammates continued to train together. This was quite different than the normal sword practice and Mana study he h
ad done at home. Battling a skilled and speedy wildkin and a talented Magi—who could read his thoughts if he was not careful—had proven to be a rather interesting and intense experience. In that time, they awaited word from Nauru on when they were to depart but they had not seen the grand mistress since the day she put them together.

  On the evening of his eighth day at the Templar Order, he followed Wulfsun, who had asked him to join him after training while Jazai and Asla went to the dining hall. He complied willingly and asked where they were going, but the giant said he wanted to keep it a surprise for now but that he should bring his majestic with him.

  They headed to the eastern wing of the castle and passed many rooms and halls he had yet to see as he’d had no reason to be there until now. In fact, besides the areas he had seen on his first day there, he had yet to fully explore the castle. Training filled most of his time and he was given a temporary room in the scholar’s tower across from Jazai. Although the apprentice somewhat disdainfully declared that it was less a room and more a refitted supply closet, it suited Devol for now.

  Wulfsun opened a large metal door and motioned for him to enter. As soon as it swung inward, an immense heat issued from within. The boy walked through and paused, a little surprised by several forges and dozens of benches and cooling pools positioned in the large space. Numerous pieces of metal and colored stones in boxes were scattered on the floor or hung on the walls beside weapons and armor.

  Three dwarves stood in conversation, while a squama moved a box of supplies quickly across the room. A female daemoni worked at the largest forge, one equipped with two large rocks of cobalt at the top that seemed to pump Mana into the flames. Embers threw flurries of red and blue sparks from the mouth of the furnace.

  “This is our blacksmithing operation,” Wulfsun explained and turned to the boy with a smile. “Come along. I want you to meet the master.”

  Devol swallowed the numerous questions that surged within and glanced at the large Templar. “The master?”

  His companion chuckled. “Aye, she’s in charge of arming the order. She is an expert craftsman. Those rivets during the kinship trial? She made most of them decades ago and they still function.” He leaned closer and indicated the young Magi’s sword. “She’s also one of the few smithies who are able to repair a majestic.”

  “Repair a majestic?” he asked. “I thought they repaired themselves.”

  “They can over time,” the commander agreed. “But they can be severely damaged and even broken by certain things, typically in battle with another majestic. And as you are hopefully aware by now, that is quite a bad thing. It’s not only a broken weapon but it can inflict injuries on the wielder and even death in the worst case. If such a thing were to happen, having someone who can repair a majestic is quite helpful.” The Templar began to walk to the large forge. “Come along now.”

  Devol followed him, momentarily distracted by a couple of other human blacksmiths making repairs to armor to his left. As they approached the daemoni, a tall, lithe figure with four arms and four legs stepped from behind the forge. Ashen-gray skin was marked with what appeared to be red warpaint on his face, a line down the middle that separated into two lines that wrapped back to make circles around his large, red eyes.

  “I got the exhaust going, boss,” he said to the daemoni, his voice raspy yet with a pleasant cadence. “Gonna need to swap out the cobalt by tomorrow night. The shipment is coming in the morning, right?”

  “Should be,” the master smith replied, straightened, and stepped away from the furnace. Her medium-length gray hair was scraped into a bun, her horns sloped back and curved up, and she was not only redder than the daemoni he had seen previously, but she was far more muscular as well.

  Wulfsun pounded a hand on a nearby table and grinned as she turned her head to look at him over her shoulder. The four-armed creature waved a hand. “Hey, Macha, Rogo! How are ya?”

  “Captain!” Rogo responded with a delighted shout. “Nice to see you!”

  Macha turned fully, folded her arms, and nodded. “Evening Wulfsun.” Her voice was cool and efficient. She looked at Devol, who bowed slightly under her gaze. “Is this your new apprentice?”

  “Not quite.” The huge Templer settled a hand on his shoulder as if to calm him. “He would make a good one, though. He fights like a likan.”

  Rogo stepped fully from behind the forge area and Devol was shocked by his size when he moved closer. He was a little shorter than Wulfsun and the daemoni but stood at least six and a half feet tall. His four knees were bent to balance him so he might have been taller than both of them at full height. He stopped a few feet away and gave them a toothy grin as he rubbed his chin with one hand. The lower two rested on his hips. “So you’re the potential recruit, eh? I heard you got yourself an interesting majestic there, my new friend.”

  “Introduce yourself properly, Rogo,” the daemoni chided. “The boy probably isn’t used to seeing realmers like us yet.”

  “Ah, you’re right, boss.” He moved forward quickly and proffered a hand. When the boy took it, he placed his other three hands over their clasped ones and shook vigorously. “I’m Rogo the smithy. I’m what you humans call a melian. It’s a pleasure to meet a warrior as young as yourself.” He released his multiple grasps and pointed at the daemoni with two arms. “And this is Macha, the master forger in our little camp.”

  Macha placed her hands on the table, leaned forward, and focused on the young Magi. “So, I hear you want me to look at your sword?”

  Before Devol could reply, Wulfsun intervened. “Aye, only to see if you can tell us anything about it. The boy is heading off on a mission in a couple of days so it’s good to have as much information as possible, yeah?” The mention of timing surprised the boy and he raised an eyebrow.

  “Wait, I am?” he asked.

  The Templar looked nonplussed as the realization dawned. “Ah, right. I forgot to tell you and your mates. I should probably fill them in when we get to the dining hall.” He shrugged and looked at the master smith. “Macha is one of the finest smiths I have ever known, period. On top of that, she has great knowledge of exotics and majestics, at least the known ones.”

  “It’s hard to know about things that we don’t know exist,” she muttered as she turned to tend the forge.

  “Not to mention that she’s training me!” Rogo revealed, stooped so he was a little closer to Devol’s height, and leaned closer to whisper. “My kind ain’t the greatest when it comes to using Mana. Only a handful of melian every couple of decades could forge exotics and magical equipment.” His smile widened as he thumped his chest with one arm. “I might even have a gift, you know? Macha says I might be able to repair majestics someday like she can. You’re looking at the next legendary melian smith right here.”

  “You are still some time away from that declaration, Rogo,” Macha stated. It surprised Devol that she could hear him whisper over the roar of the forges and banging of metal.

  Rogo looked at her with a grin. “I know, boss, but keeping the dream alive makes me work harder.”

  “Then be prepared for the work coming in this week,” she responded. “We have more orders to fill for the party heading out at the end of the moon.”

  He straightened and clapped all his hands. “Right, boss! I’ll go and get the choice materials and start the furnace burning!” He ran off quickly, circled the forge, and vanished into a back room.

  “Well then, while he’s doing that…” Macha looked at the boy. “Let me see your majestic…uh…”

  “Devol,” he replied. She arched an eyebrow and looked quickly at Wulfsun, who simply shrugged. “Cute name,” she said and narrowed her eyes when she noticed the blade on his back. “Is that the sword?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He undid the strap on his chest and handed the weapon to her. She unsheathed it and the bright glow illuminated her face. Her alabaster eyes widened as her gaze settled on the magical blade.

  “This is…” She whisper
ed, looked at Wulfsun, and returned her attention to the young Magi.

  “You know about it?” Devol asked.

  Her gaze shifted to the captain again, who returned it knowingly. She nodded as she sheathed the blade. “I know of it—a glowing blade with a star-like shine. But I cannot say I know much beyond that. There are a number of vague stories and notes I have come across that mention majestics like that. It’s interesting to think about but not much is known.” she revealed and handed it to him as she studied him. “I will have to go through the books to see if I can find out more. But I have to say that it has been a long time since I’ve seen someone wield a linked majestic.”

  “Linked?” he asked and frowned at the weapon.

  “It’s a majestic that has some kind of attachment to the user,” Wulfsun explained. “Most are passed down or found and eventually build a bond with the wielder over time and use. But since you used it to such great effect in our bout, yours already seems to have connected to you on a much deeper level.”

  “And what does that mean for me?” Devol asked as he studied the sword and recalled the first time it had appeared in the Emerald Forest.

  “It means it was destiny for you and it to meet,” Macha told him before she shrugged and turned away. “Or dumb luck. Some Magi merely have a certain something—like class proficiency or personality—that a majestic resonates with and makes the bonding process smoother.”

  “But you said it yourself,” the commander replied and pointed at her. “It’s been a long time since you’ve seen one like this, right? You haven’t had many chances to work on a majestic like this, have ya?”

  “Which is why I’ve been stuck doing repairs and making simple exotics for so long,” the daemoni stated and turned her focus to the weapon. “I suppose I have something to look forward to eventually.” She looked at Devol, then at the sword. “The blade seems a little long for his height and he seems quite young. Humans grow more at that age, correct?”