Chapter Thirty-One
Koli could no longer feel Salvo’s presence. Had he died? No, his Mana had vanished all at once instead of gradually so he must have used the marble to teleport out of the forest. He could still sense the mori’s Mana very keenly. In fact, it was stronger and had grown to the point where it was almost sickening. He heard a grunt and looked at where Asla strained against the warped area she was contained in. Distracted by the possible fate of his partner, he had almost slipped. It would be bad form to have this battle end due to their negligence. A better option would be that Devol finally attacked.
A hasty glance at the swordsman confirmed that he’d had the same thought and was now only several feet away. The boy began to swing his blade—valiant but foolish, of course. He began to shift the space in front of the blade enough for it to swing harmlessly to his side, which would leave his young opponent wide open.
The light in the blade flared and it corrected its trajectory to remain on a direct course toward him. He was surprised and the young Magi seemed a little shocked too, although it was mostly masked by his anger. Unfortunately, he could not move if he continued to hold the girl in place. He needed to concentrate to keep her there, but it looked like that was no longer an option.
Regretfully, he released his hold on the wildkin and jumped back. The blade sliced along his chest and when he landed, he checked his tunic. It appeared that it had narrowly missed the flesh although it had certainly cut the tunic rather cleanly. But as he raised his fingers, he felt a warm substance on them and he scowled at the blood that stained their tips. Small droplets of it seeped through the garment along his sternum.
He looked at Devol, who was helping the girl up, and smiled. While he was unsure if this was his skill alone or something to do with the majestic he wielded, it appeared that his intuition was quite right. The boy would make a wonderful plaything in the future.
For now, however, he needed to complete the mission. He’d had his fun, but with the real Templar approaching, he could not guarantee the retrieval of the box. While he might be able to defeat the mori, the younglings could easily escape with the box. If they found an anchor point…well, all would be lost. He turned to snatch the prize but before he could, it sparkled with blue light, elevated sharply, and hurtled to Jazai, who smiled cunningly at the thief.
Koli frowned slightly. “You are becoming annoying.”
“I pride myself on that,” the diviner retorted and pointed three fingers at him. “Bolt.” Three Mana arrows formed and launched at his adversary much faster than his missiles had. The man’s Anima surged and a wave of his arm simply knocked the projectiles away.
His malefic flashed and the earth began to shift around the young apprentice. The ground burst open and threatened to swallow him while the trees behind him fell and almost crushed him. The boy was able to blink away but had to use far more Mana than usual to break through the assault.
In turn, this left a clear image of where he would reappear for a skilled Magi such as Koli was. He drew three small knives from his belt and flung them at his opponent as he manifested. Jazai’s eyes widened as they were too close for him to dodge, but before they struck, they were intercepted by Asla and fell harmlessly at his feet.
“Asla!” he called and the wildkin gasped as her Mana flickered around her. She released it as she toppled.
Well, that was two, but where was Devol? Koli turned as an immense light broke through the trees. The boy surged out and his blade glowed brighter than it had before. He focused on the young swordsman and attempted to trap him in the same distorted cage he had used with Asla. As his opponent pushed forward and increased his speed, light poured out of the blade. Surprised, he reacted by distorting the space around him.
When the weapon impacted with him, the sword unleashed a surge of light that enveloped him and continued to streak through the forest behind them. It tore through it and obliterated anything in its path for more than a hundred yards.
Devol could feel his Anima depleting from the strike. What had just happened?
When the assassin reappeared, his clothes were torn and various wounds were visible along the top of his arms. He stood motionless for a moment before the shock of the assault subsided. The two combatants stood in silence and stared at one another in a moment of mutual surprise. But the older Magi’s stunned expression turned to one of happiness, almost like he was looking at the swordsman with pride in his eyes. At least that is what it appeared to be before he delivered a solid kick across the boy’s chin and hurled him away as he produced a small black marble.
“Truly magnificent,” he whispered, broke the marble, and vanished.
“He teleported,” Jazai muttered and glowered at the area where the thief had stood. “Far, far away. I can’t even track him.”
“Devol!” Asla called and jogged to the swordsman, who pushed himself into a seated position. “Are you all right?”
He rubbed his chin ruefully. “It hurts but I’ll be fine,” he stated as she helped him up. “Thank you. That could have been much worse. My Anima was weak but so was his.”
“No doubt.” Jazai snickered and shook his head as he turned the box in his hand. “What was that? It looked like you launched some kind of holy fire from your sword.” He pointed to the section of forest that had been caught in the light’s path. Everything but the dirt had been obliterated along it. “Well…maybe ‘holy’ isn’t the right word. Unless flora can be sinners.”
“I don’t know,” Devol admitted and studied his blade warily. “I simply…I wanted to stop him.”
“Killing her is a way to do that.” Jazai laughed, flipped the box, and caught it. “Yes, I know it’s an illusion and the thief’s gender is male, but when it looks like a girl and acts like a girl…” He shrugged. “My brain has a hard time seeing him as anything but a girl.”
“You think we’ll run into him again?” Asla questioned and clutched her left arm to try to dull the pain.
“It’s a possibility,” the diviner reasoned. “Or at least someone from the order will. If they are after the malefic, they’ll be back eventually.”
“Asla, Jazai, Devol!” Vaust called and the three friends looked down the road as the mori appeared almost out of nowhere. “Are you all right?”
“Yes, sir.” Devol nodded and pointed to the other boy. “We retrieved the box but the thief got away with the mask.”
“You did?” The Templar seemed rather surprised. “That is…quite impressive. I thought she would be too fast for you to catch up.”
“He was,” Asla admitted. “Even for me. If he’d wanted to, he could have easily outrun us.”
“It turns out she had a thing for fighting.” Jazai sighed, tapped his cheek, and flinched. “The only reason she stopped is that she wanted to fight.”
“And you took the bait?” Vaust demanded in annoyance. “You may be gifted and have majestics, but even you had to know you were outmatched.”
“Oh, we were well aware of that,” the young diviner responded and handed the box to him. “But I think I speak for all of us in saying that it was more stubborn pride than sense.”
“It was Devol who finally forced him to flee,” Asla noted and gestured at the destroyed forest behind them. “His sword did that.”
The Templar observed the damage and looked at the blade. “I see. Interesting.” He looked the boy in the eyes. “You must have wanted to defeat her very badly.”
He grimaced. “I did, but I would think that is normal in a life or death situation.”
Vaust chuckled. “Sure enough, but there is a difference in wanting to win and simply not wanting to die.” He frowned at the young Magi. “But I think you’re confused. That was a woman.”
“Nope.” The diviner shook his head and grinned. “We’ll explain later but trust me, she seems to be a he.” His grin broadened when the Templar stared at him in bewilderment. “So, Vaust,” Jazai began and pointed to his head. “What’s going on with your hair?”<
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His two friends frowned when they noticed several dark streaks in the mori’s silver hair. “It is nothing to worry about,” he said and ran his hand through his locks. “It happens sometimes. For now, let us return to the village. I think we all need some rest.”
Devol nodded, took Asla’s arm, and put it over his shoulder. “Oh yeah. Without a doubt.”
When they had returned, the town was in a tizzy. The residents had watched the fire blaze and then suddenly go out, and guards who went to investigate the incident said that a large section of the forest was now completely dead.
“A mori?” a surprised villager called. Vaust turned and nodded politely. His hood was completely gone now, so he could not hide it at this point.
“Excuse me, you four!” a guard shouted and caught the group’s attention. A small team approached. “You were seen coming out of the forest. Did you see what happened in there?”
Vaust held a hand out to stop the other three from speaking. “Indeed. We came across two evil Magi who were after this.” He raised the box. “We dealt with them, but they used their powers openly. I’m sorry it caused such devastation to your beautiful forest.”
“No kidding,” a guard muttered before their leader shushed them.
“Do you have any descriptions?” the captain asked.
“One wielded a wand that produced and controlled fire,” the mori began. “He called himself Salvo, had white hair, and wore a black jacket, boots, trousers, and sunglasses with red-tinted lenses. The other was a woman who—”
“It wasn’t a woman,” Devol interjected and drew the attention of the guards and another confused frown from the Templar. “Well, he appears to be a woman to some people, but his name is Koli and some type of illusion changes his appearance a little depending on who sees him. And he had a malefic.”
“A malefic?” the guard shouted and Vaust twitched slightly. “Someone with a malefic was here?”
“Yes, sir.” The young swordsman nodded. “But he has gone now. He teleported away.”
“Far away,” Jazai added.
The guard captain frowned and focused on the Templar. “A malefic? If you were able to take on someone like that…” He looked at the box, then at the mori again. “Are you here on Templar work?” Vaust nodded and tucked the box behind him. “I see. All right, boys, let’s continue the investigation and try to restore the peace.”
The guards left them, but as they headed to the inn, they could hear some of them complain that they had let them off too easy. Their leader responded with things like, “Doesn’t matter,” and, “Nothing we can do anyway. Can’t touch them.” But one of the more irate comments from one of the men caught Devol’s attention.
“Templars always bring curses with them.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
Vaust hissed as he placed a large cloth soaked with some kind of wine-colored liquid over the burnt skin on his shoulder. Asla had finished applying ointment onto her feet and studied her bruised shoulder with a frown. Fortunately, Koli’s knives had grazed rather than stabbed, but the injury was still surprisingly tender. Jazai currently nursed a bump on the back of his head that the Templar had given him after he mentioned that he couldn’t tell what the difference was between burnt skin and normal skin on the mori.
“Is something bothering you, Devol?” the older man asked as he bound the cloth in place with a bandage. “You’ve seemed rather quiet since we returned.”
“He could simply be tired,” Asla interjected grumpily.
“It’s not that,” the boy admitted and slumped on one of the beds. “Well, I suppose I am, but I overheard the guards bickering when we left them. One of them said something that got to me.”
“And what was that?” Vaust asked. “If it was a generic insult, don’t mind it. Many guards are rather foul-mouthed in this realm—at least that has been my experience.”
“It was, but it wasn’t about me. It was about you,” he replied.
“Something to do with the evil mori?” The Templar chuckled and stretched his arm. “You should have been around a couple of hundred years ago. Almost everyone believed those rumors. In fact, much of your superstitious lore comes from early run-ins with mori before the realms were widely known—”
“It was more about the Templars,” he said quickly. “They said Templars always bring curses with them.”
Vaust tensed slightly, Asla looked away, and Jazai merely shrugged and flopped onto his back on the other bed. “If you stick around, you’ll get used to that.” The apprentice yawned. “Or simply lie. I mostly tell people I’m a busboy in a brothel. I get fewer angry looks that way.”
The mori sighed as he took a red silk shirt out of his pack and put it on. “He is right—a smartass but a correct one.”
“It balances things,” the diviner quipped.
Devol recalled his first day at the order. “I remember Wulfsun telling me that the Templar had a dark past. It seems my life in Monleans was rather sheltered.”
Vaust regarded him curiously. “What makes you say that?”
He sighed and gestured with a mixture of frustration and impatience. “All these things I’m unaware of. Like the malefic Koli wielded. Jazai and Asla knew what it was. Even the guards seemed to understand that it’s important.”
“Most try to suppress the knowledge of those objects,” Asla pointed out. “It would not be too surprising for you to not know of them.”
“Still, things get out,” Jazai countered. “They may not exactly be taught about in most academies and schools, but malefic were a big deal several centuries ago. That information doesn’t disappear as long as someone knows about it.”
“And there are quite a few who know,” Vaust muttered and sat beside the young swordsman. “Wulfsun is better at things like this than I am, but I’ll give you the summary. You deserve that much after today.”
Devol turned to examine the mori. He was still learning how to read him but even with what little he did know, he showed signs of remorse and sorrow.
“The malefics are based on majestics. You could probably tell that much,” the Templar began and glanced at his kama where it rested against his bag. “Majestics weren’t invented—not in the way we usually think of such things. There are many legends that try to reveal where they come from.”
“Some say they were divine weapons of the Astrals, if you believe in them,” Jazai interjected. “Others say they were a physical manifestation of the Mana or souls of legendary Magi, while some claim they were legendary weapons that became majestic over time after completing great tasks—like many heroes you hear about in stories.” Vaust cast the apprentice an irritated look but the boy simply shrugged and shifted a little to get more comfortable. “Hey, I’ve heard this spiel from both my pops and Zier enough times to make it a paragraph rather than a two-hour lecture. I thought I’d help.”
The mori relaxed and chuckled. “Fair enough. But no one is able to say for certain which of these tales, if any, are true. You would perhaps find scholars and archeologists who swear up and down that they could, but that’s pride speaking.”
“You have them in your realm as well, correct?” Devol asked.
Vaust nodded. “Indeed, all realms have majestics and their stories of what they are and where they came from. But your realm is rather unique, not only for having a plethora of them in comparison but quite a number of suitable wielders. Majestics are typically more hallowed in other realms and often with elaborate legends to the effect that those who can wield them are destined for greatness.” He chuckled darkly. “We mori found out rather quickly that greatness is a personally defined term.”
“I’m getting more familiar with majestics,” Devol noted. “But what does this have to do with the malefics?”
The Templar sighed again and grimaced. “Right. I suppose I’m delaying. As I said, majestics cannot be made. Over the centuries, we have found ways to modify and even repair them but no one has been able to successfully make a weapon or
object that compares to a majestic, although some good has come from trying.”
“Like the exotics,” he ventured.
“Correct,” Vaust agreed. “But the idea of creating a majestic is something I’m sure a great number of people have been fascinated with ever since they learned about them all that time ago. That included a large number of Templars roughly five hundred and forty years ago, and they came the closest to success.”
Asla perched on top of a dresser at the window of the room and gazed out as the mori continued his explanation.
“These Templars were able to craft magical weapons and items that could indeed match a majestic in power, but they were not equal. Majestics can only be wielded by certain people for various reasons, but malefics can be wielded by anyone regardless of their skill or power.”
“Truly?” Devol asked. “But then they succeeded, in a way. They are more powerful if more people can use them.”
“It’s true that people don’t like being left out of things,” Jazai commented. “But sometimes, that is for the best.”
Vaust straightened and pointed at the blade. “Tell me, Devol, even if your sword wasn’t a majestic, would you hand it to a child?”
The boy studied the weapon where it glimmered faintly in its sheath. “I started training young, but I’m guessing you mean would I hand a deadly weapon to someone inexperienced?”
“Correct.” The mori nodded.“Malefics also draw their power from their host exactly as a majestic does, but the user is nothing more than a supply of Mana to power the malefic. An inexperienced person may wield one for no more than a few minutes before dying, and even those who survive are…changed.”
“A majestic’s power is a focus, one that reveals the inner soul of the user. It calls you to power,” Asla said as if quoting the lines of a book. “A malefic’s power is like wine, sweet but corrupting. It tempts you to power.” She looked at the others and the moonlight illuminated her eyes. “That is how madame Nauru once described it to me.”
A New Light (The Astral Wanderer Book 1) Page 22
