Legacy of Dreams: Freedom

by Thomas J. L. Green

  Am I... free? She was afraid just to think that.

  “Going somewhere?” a sharp voice interrupted her.

  Across a meadow stood Lucas, he was leaning on a tree.

  How the hell did he get there?

  “Thought I would go hunt a rabbit for breakfast,” she lied sweetly.

  “There is a village along the path. We will buy supplies there.”

  “Where’s the fun in that?”

  Before he could answer, Iowen drew an arrow and shot it at him. It was one fast and fluid movement that sent the arrow at his chest with deadly force. Lucas jolted from the tree, dodged the arrow and lunged at her.

  Fast!

  Iowen let go of the bow and drew two daggers. She stepped in with a whirl, aimed an overarching slash at his head to make him duck towards the second blade, which she was hiding behind her body. He ducked the first slash as she expected, but then blocked the second slash by catching her wrist. Lucas hit her straight in the chest with a punch. He pulled it, but it still stung and made her stagger.

  Lucas disengaged and walked back to the tree.

  “The arrow shot was too straightforward, the blows were slow and too far apart, you left leg was too far behind, which gave the feint away,” he evaluated briskly. “Again,” he commanded.

  Iowen’s cheeks burned up.

  I’m gonna kill you you fucking asshole.

  She picked up the bow and grabbed three arrows into her left hand sneakily. Without a warning she shot an arrow at his lower body, jumped backwards, shot a second one where she expected him to dodge and then the third one in the direction of the counter movement he could have done. Lucas dodged the first arrow easily, dodged the second and then caught the third arrow mid-air when advancing on her.

  He what!?

  Iowen gasped as she let go of the bow and reached for her blades. Too slow. He was already at her. She quickly kicked up and sent a spray of mud into his face. He sidestepped, went in on her exposed side and hit her chest again. Lucas walked back to the tree.

  “The kick setup was too obvious, arrows too far from each other,” he declared, “again.”

  After over three hours, Iowen sagged to the ground exhausted. She didn’t even scratch him. Worst thing was, it wasn’t that he was too strong or too fast. No, she was faster than him and probably equal in strength. She knew that when she recovers, she will likely be both faster and stronger. But he was good. No, not good. His techniques were perfect. All his movements were exactly as long as they needed to be. They were without any unnecessary effort. That gave his movement a smooth fluid motion and created an illusion of extreme speed.

  Makes me feel like a sloppy idiot.

  “Tired already?” he mused, giving her an inquisitive look.

  “Hungry,” she cut him off sharply.

  “Let’s move then, the next village is half a day away,” he replied dryly.

  “You aren’t serious, are you? You can’t expect me to walk for half a day after roughing me up like this,” she said in a mocking tone.

  “I barely touched you.”

  He walked towards her and motioned her to follow him.

  “Will I at least get some more jerky?” she tried

  “You ate all of it yesterday.”

  Iowen frowned and followed him. She figured it wouldn’t be easy to escape for as long as he’s capable of pursuing her. It also didn’t look like she would be able to defeat him head on.

  Ah well, slitting his throat in the night it is then. Iowen smiled to herself, imagining how he suffocates on his own blood.

  I suppose that will be easier if he trusts me a bit.

  “My name is Iowen. Iowen Drach’ Tea,” she said as she realized she hasn’t even told him her name yet.

  “Sounds like you will want something,” he retorted.

  Iowen bit back the swarm of insults that popped into her head.

  “Thought we could get more civil with each other,” she added.

  Ok, I could get more civil with him. He was nothing but kind so far.

  “Alright, Iowen. I dug you out of the mines, the slave camp, because I want you to do something for me.”

  “Well that’s too bad, I’m not too good at warming up the bed,” she countered.

  “There will be a tournament across the continent. I need a spy in there and got a team ran by my associate who shall take you in.”

  Associate, not a friend.

  “Associate?”

  “Chieftain Alog of Ghalkel.”

  Ghalkel. That’s in the desert. I’m going to literally fall apart before I even get there!

  “So… are you going to sell me as a slave to an Uroshnii clan?”

  “No. Chieftain Alog believes free men can do better than slaves. His team will be made of volunteers only.”

  “You want to tell me that an Urushnii chieftain will take me among his men to represent himself in this large tournament or whatever it is? Are you insane?”

  “He will accept anyone I bring him. After all, he is more focused on winning than on tribal tradition.”

  Bring… anyone?

  “Who the hell are you?”

  “Hmmm?”

  “You walk into Cinderwell slave camp, pick me up like a bag of potatoes and walk out through the front gate without anyone saying a word. Now you want to bring me to an Uroshnii chieftain half a continent away and assume he will do everything you want.”

  “Agent Lucas, 1st Legion of the Holy Order of Palai,” he replied as he pulled an amulet from under his shirt.

  It was a massive golden amulet inlaid with rubies, its pendant a sword with wings. On the wings were four large rubies in shape of sun. Symbol of the Holy Order of Palai, apparently one signifying a very high rank.

  Palai Order has a church in every city, every village and a garrison of men at every church. It is one of the largest and most powerful entities in the world. 1St Legion is the most infamous legion, known for being as inhuman as an army can be… and never losing a battle. This guy is trouble personified.

  Iowen’s stomach turned. Lucas put the amulet back under his shirt and smiled. The smile wasn’t poisonous, it was almost kind.

  “Don’t worry. I could have already done anything to you for a hundred times if I wanted to. Once you are done with the tournament, I will have your records wiped, provide you a fake identity and enough gold so you can start a new life wherever you desire. That is my offer.”

  This is too good to be true. Slaves get offers of freedom all the time… but each of those has vague concept and more or less hidden traps in it. This one even has a deadline… freedom for a price.

  “What if I refuse?”

  “I believe you won’t.”

  “I will consider it.”

  4

  Iowen

  I’m not just going to kill you. I’m going to cut off your limbs, then slowly torture you until you beg me to let you die. I will continue torturing you until your heart gives out. Afterwards, I will have you healed and do it again, again and again until you die of old age!

  Iowen imagined how she takes her time tearing him to pieces, reassembling him only to have him torn to pieces again as she was lying down in the camp. Lucas deemed it necessary to train Iowen for the tournament. It didn’t feel like training. It was more Lucas pushing her along the way while beating her up. He pulled his punches to not cause any real damage to her body… but it was still wrapped in agonizing pain. Through the day, Lucas didn’t stop no matter how much she pleaded, complained or threatened. She tried every trick and excuse she could think of. Nothing worked.

  Soulless monster.

  He didn’t even let her have a break. Now he was setting up the camp for the night while she was lying on the grass. Her shattered pride lied around her.

  Lucas sat down next to her, roasted meat in hand.

  “I can’t move, you will have to feed me,” she said as sweetly as she had managed. Lucas just put the food down next to her and started eating his por
tion.

  Heartless bastard.

  Iowen made a symphony of painful screams and sobs as she pushed herself up to a sitting position. She blew on the food to make it cold with her icy breath. Iowen made sure to make a painful groan before and after every bite. Lucas had no reaction.

  Insensitive prick.

  He went on to clean the plates and wrap up the cooking supplies. Iowen just sat there and glared at him while imagining his head exploding.

  After he was done, Lucas looked at her with a kind look.

  Don’t you dare pity me!

  The next morning, Iowen decided to play dead. Lucas gracefully ignored her and simply packed up the camp.

  “I can’t feel my legs,” she sobbed.

  Lucas just smiled.

  “You have two minutes to get ready,” he said so softly she barely heard it.

  Shit!

  Iowen jumped up to her feet and started dressing up as quickly as she managed, while spouting insults between each breath.

  “Not bad, tomorrow you will get ninety seconds.”

  Iowen knew better than to waste her breath on acting weak or insulting him. Her body still hurt from yesterday and today will be long, much longer than yesterday.

  It was worse than she could have imagined. Lucas was absolutely relentless in his attacks and didn’t let her take even the tiniest break until lunch. She collapsed to the ground, exhausted.

  “Fifteen minute break,” announced Lucas.

  Asshole! Monster! Idiot! Demon! Prick! Fanatic!

  Iowen quickly grabbed the food to have some time to eat. Lucas kept the time to the second.

  But the time the sunset came, Iowen was so exhausted she couldn’t see straight. She couldn’t move, she couldn’t speak.

  This time Lucas did feed her.

  I can’t go on like this. The fucking fanatic will kill me tomorrow and I need to survive way longer. The tournament is far away… if he plans to train me, what is how he likes to call this torture, then he has months to do so.

  Iowen’s spirit left her body when she realized.

  That’s exactly what he’s planning…. isn’t it? He will not let me walk a step without me having to fight him. Either I make it to Ghalkel in time and I enter the tournament or, if I don’t make it there in time, he lets me die where I make it. That will likely be in the desert which make the final part of the journey.

  Iowen was terrified of desert. Her body would literally collapse were she to be exposed to the sun and heat directly. That means the only way for her to survive there is Lucas taking care of her during the day. Dying from overheating in the desert was literally the worst death she could have imagined. Being eaten by dogs seemed fancy in comparison.

  I need a way to fight back, she realized. She had free reign over him in cities, where he couldn’t really stop her without shaming his status or principles. The few days of fun she would get in the cities weren’t nearly enough to compensate for the pure agony of the travelling.

  There is no way to fight him physically, he is too well trained and experienced for that. Iowen hated to admit it, but her body wasn’t exactly in top shape thanks to the slave camp. Her technique was rusty at best as well.

  Magic! That’s the only thing that could give me a chance. Except that I can’t use it.

  “Lucas, how do I use magic?” she tried.

  My “father” was literally made of magic, I should have some as well.

  “Close your eyes and dig inside, go deep until you reach an abyss. Jump into it and wait till you fall to the bottom. There you will find it. It will look like a massive pulsating bubble. How you drain the insides from the bubble will be equivalent to how you access its strength.”

  That was way, way too precise. Magic is extremely individual, it is supposed to work differently for each person.

  “How do I go within myself? How do I move there anywhere? How do I find the abyss I should fall into? You really don’t make much sense.”

  “Practice, patience, meditation,” he answered dryly.

  “That would take years,” Iowen sighed.

  “Usually,” said Lucas as he was suddenly rummaging from the saddlebags.

  “Tell me you are looking for a hammer to knock me out,” groaned Iowen as her body reminded her in how much pain she is.

  “Something along those lines,” confirmed Lucas in a merry tone.

  Iowen looked up at him. He was stuffing some dry blue leaves into a pipe while sitting next to her.

  “Nice try, but smoking would literally tear my throat apart from the inside.”

  Iowen didn’t like the image one bit.

  “When you start falling, keep forcing it until you make it to the bubble. No matter what.”

  “Huh?” Iowen didn’t like his tone.

  Lucas inhaled deeply from the pipe, filling his mouth with the smoke. Without warning, he caught Iowen’s face, forced her mouth open and blew the smoke into her throat.

  Iowen’s world shifted. She suddenly stood at the edge of a cliff, dark horizon in front of her and frozen wasteland under her. So far that she could barely see it. She turned around and Lucas pushed her.

  “Reach the bubble.”

  Iowen started falling. She fell through the ground and kept falling as if from the sky. The ground was approaching fast.

  This is way too real!

  She screamed as the ground was approaching. Iowen put her hands in front of her face, but didn’t slow down.

  Lucas you bastard!

  The ground turned into a lake. Iowen kept cursing as she was approaching the lake. The lake froze. She smashed into it and pierced through the ice. Ice shattered all around her, shards of ice were everywhere around her. They looked like shards of a broken mirror. She saw reflections of herself in each shard, reflections of her past, of the people she knew. She gazed down and saw the darkness. A swirling mass of darkness that made her feel sick just by watching it.

  Why can’t it be a meadow with butterflies?

  There was just blackness. Many hands appeared. Long hands with claws, moving around her body. Fondling, brushing, caressing, feeling her body. As if they were savoring her. Every touch of every hand made her want to scream and vomit at the same time. She lost any sense of space and time. Iowen just waited for it to stop.

  I will make you suffer for eternity, Lucas!

  She felt an impact. Massive blow that shook her whole being as she shrieked with pain.

  LUCAS!!!

  “I’m gonna kill you!” Iowen roared as she tried to get up on her feet. Her knees failed her and she crashed down to the ground with another scream of pain and curses. She saw it. Pulsating bubble that seemed like it was made of bright, light blue liquid. It was large as a melon and looked like a beating heart. It looked like it was alive.

  Massive pulsating bubble.

  Massive.

  LUCAS!!!

  She looked around frantically to see if there isn’t more. There was nothing else around other than darkness.

  Is this the size of my magic? Massive my ass!

  Iowen sagged to the ground, disappointed with herself.

  Anger filled Iowen once more as she reached out to the bubble.

  So, I have almost no power whatsoever. I swear I will find some way how to use it to make his life miserable!

  She cursed as she grabbed it with her hand. It popped and the blue liquid inside splashed all over her.

  Suddenly, she was awake and was lying on the ground. Her body was filled with some strange energy, cracking and erratic, it felt like it’s tearing apart her veins.

  I must release it somehow. But how?

  Ouch! Can’t move! Well, only one target left.

  She focused her strength up, aiming at the empty sky. She felt like the energy left her. And nothing happened.

  NOTHING?

  She scanned her surroundings for anything that has changed. Anything that was affected by her magic.

  Nothing!

  Seriously? Nothing? />
  Nothing.

  She let the tiredness knock her out.

  “What a disappointment,” Iowen evaluated in the morning as she got up for the breakfast Lucas had already prepared.

  “Hmm…?” Lucas looked at her.

  “My magic! It does nothing!”

  “You don’t know how to shape it.”

  “Care to share some insight?”

  “Magic is something that flows through every living being in the world. Your soul accumulates a part of what passes through, it’s called magical reserve and that is the bubble you saw. Practice accessing it and you will soon be able to do so unconsciously. Up to this point, it is the same for everyone. Using it is not,” Lucas started.

  Iowen listened intently.

  “To use it, you need to pour it into your body, mold it and release it. Now comes the tricky part. Everyone has talent for different use of it. You will need to find yourself what you can do with it. The talent goes anywhere from insane regeneration, through sudden increases of speed and strength, shooting fireballs or lightning, all the way to necromancy and space-time manipulation. There are three rules to it. First, use it every day so your body gets used to it. It will also help you with muscle development and recovery. Second, find one thing you can do and practice that one thing endlessly. It takes years to master one manifestation, a lot of talent to even learn a second one and only handful of people in the world can do three. None of them are too powerful though, the most powerful mages in the world are focused on one application,” Lucas explained.

  “Are you one of them?” Iowen pried.

  “No. I am not a mage… I use magic but wouldn’t count myself as a mage,” Lucas denied the notion.

  “What’s the difference?”

  “Mage is someone who had trained to transfer as much magical strength as he can through his body. That goes directly against training it for combat, because for that you need to move magic as quickly as possible, which means you channel lower amounts for limited effects. Trying to mix the approaches is a bad idea, you will end up wielding low amounts of strength slowly.”