The Land of the Undying Lord

by J. T. Wright

  “Morning drills will continue, as usual, followed by group combat training till noon. The rest of the day will be yours, as long as I don’t think you’re wasting it!”

  He walked down the line of recruits and handed them each an object. As Trent took his, he discovered it was a red-colored rod about six inches in length.

  “At this time,” the Sergeant continued, “you will bind the item I’ve just handed to you. This is a locator rod; it is connected to a master rod, which I will keep. This will allow me to know where you are at any time. You will keep it with you at all times. If, for whatever reason, you think you are in danger, break the rod. If I believe the danger is real, you will receive help.”

  Trent was lost. “Sergeant, how do we bind it?”

  The other recruits snickered noisily. They all got to know each other during the week and, while Trent had been accepted, appreciated even, his lack of basic knowledge still provided endless amusement.

  “You are aware of your Mana pool?” Cullen said mildly, ignoring the Recruit’s lack of discipline, for the moment.

  Trent nodded. Mana pool was the small blue ball at his center, right next to the green ball that represented his Stamina. They were a part of him, he couldn’t see them and yet, he could. He was as aware of them as he was his own hands.

  “Concentrate on your Mana,” Cullen continued. “Focus and draw it up, slowly! Push it down your arm and into the rod. Be careful. The smallest amount will do the job, but if you rush it, you’ll drain your Mana. This won’t kill you, but you won’t enjoy it.”

  Trent did as he was instructed. Once he was told what to do, the process was almost instinctive. The cool rush of power flowed from his chest, down his arm, and into the rod. He sensed more than heard a “click” and immediately stopped. Checking his Status, he saw he used five Mana.

  You have learned Mana Control. Wisdom +1

  “Done. Good, then.” Cullen stared at Trent for a moment. “You look too pleased, Recruit. It wasn’t that impressive.”

  “No, Sergeant, it was easy,” Trent said, schooling his features to seriousness. “I just thought learning Mana Control was…”

  He stopped. Cullen’s mouth had opened the tiniest bit, and all the recruits forgot themselves. They turned to look at him. Arisa, the Mage Recruit, broke the silence.

  “You…ah, hmm. You learned Mana Control. From binding a magic tool?”

  “Was I not supposed to?” Trent asked.

  No one really knew what to say to that. This time Trent’s lack of knowledge wasn’t amusing; it was unbelievable!

  Cullen shook his head. He had to stop letting this kid surprise him. It was embarrassing.

  “Enough!” he scolded. “You all have work to do if you want to have camp set up before dark. And you do want that, Recruits! Figure out who is doing what amongst yourselves. Tents and tools are on the wagon. Wood is in the groves.

  “This area is not safe. I suggest you keep that in mind. Fall out!” he barked. “Except Trent and Arisa, you both standby.”

  Tersa gave Trent a comradely slap on the shoulder before she ran off with the other recruits to argue about who should do what. Arisa and Trent stayed where they were. Arisa was staring at Trent, and he wished she would stop. It was unnerving.

  “Recruit Arisa,” Cullen said, drawing her attention, “Trent needs to learn Spark. Teach it to him.”

  Arisa’s delicate nose wrinkled. “Sergeant, I don’t have a Spell Scroll or Stone.” She spoke hesitantly.

  “Did I instruct you to give him a Spell Stone?” Cullen asked dangerously. “Just walk him through the process!”

  Arisa blinked owlishly. “Oh, well, that might work, it’s not a tiered Spell. He did learn Mana Control.”

  “You did really learn Mana Control?” She turned to Trent, peering at him uncertainly. Trent nodded.

  “Well, okay!” She cleared her throat. She wasn’t an absentminded or uncertain person, though she gave that impression most of the time. Her vague demeanor disappeared as she began discussing her craft.

  “Spark isn’t really a Spell, it’s a Charm,” she explained. “More of a building block for Mana Control and Manipulation. It’s one of the first things all Mages learn.”

  She lifted her hand, palm up, and pressed her thumb, index, and middle fingers together. “Like binding a tool, you simply push your Mana where you want it, like your fingertips. You gather a small amount, less than you used for the rod.”

  She paused, thinking. “Actually, you may need more or less? I don’t know, it depends on talent and affinity. Anyone can learn Spark from a Spell Stone or Scroll, but only Mages learn it this way.”

  Another pause. “I guess you can try feeling your way. Normally, you gather the Mana, imagine the flame, and then trigger it. Most say ‘Spark’ as the trigger. I think maybe, you should imagine the flame first, then channel the Mana till it feels right and, Spark.”

  With the last word, a flame three inches tall appeared at her fingertips, waving slightly in the breeze. It lasted a few seconds before vanishing.

  She looked at Trent, indicating he should give it a try. He still held the locating rod in his hand, so he tucked that into his belt. Then, he lifted his hand to mimic her gesture.

  Imagine the flame. He closed his eyes and tried to picture a flame floating above his fingertips.

  When he was sure he had the image right, he started channeling Mana to where the imagined flame was. Almost instantly, he felt the same “click” that he had when binding the rod.

  “Spark!” he said, opening his eyes. Instantly, a small flame, much smaller than Arisa’s appeared, where he had imagined it.

  You have learned Mana Manipulation. Intelligence +1, Wisdom +1

  At his success, Arisa laughed and clapped her hands. “Well done! If you keep practicing, you’ll pick up Mana Manipulation too. Or not. It might be a Class Skill, I’m not sure.”

  Trent grinned and nodded. He didn’t let on that he’d already picked up that Skill. He found picking up Skills was easy. It was leveling them that was hard. Cullen said that was because his Intelligence was still low.

  “Alright! Enough of that!” Cullen said. “If you have questions, you can ask Arisa later after you’ve helped the others set up. Move out.”

  Cullen watched the two run off, and once they were out of hearing range, muttered, “Shit! Best to keep this from Michael until the boy is on a proper Class, or else he’ll have the runt studying to be a Spellsword when he should be running laps.”

  **********

  The first official day of field training started like all the others. Horses were cared for, exercises and drills completed, and a simple breakfast handed out. Afterward, the six recruits and two of the four trainers left the camp for group combat training. They were in high spirits, hoping to find beasts and animals to test their skills against, maybe even a bandit group, though this was unlikely.

  The area was wilder than the farmlands surrounding Al’drossford, but it was still patrolled regularly, and while a battle with bandits would be exciting, the recruits would rather hunt common animals and beasts. The Core wouldn’t be as good, but the result would be meat. A hot meal would be a welcome change.

  As the group trotted off, Trent was left behind with Corporal Francis and Sergeant Cullen. His training for the day would be slightly different, as he didn’t have the levels to keep up with the recruits.

  “You found a warren, Corporal?” Cullen asked Francis.

  “Yes, Sergeant,” Francis replied, standing in his habitual slouch. “Only half-a-mile away or so. Nothing over Level 3. Should be easy enough to lure one or two in at a time.”

  “Good,” Cullen said. He looked at Trent, who was waiting patiently. “You can leave the bow in your tent, Runt. It will just be in the way for now.”

  Trent looked at the black bow in his hand. Although he had carried it nearly everywhere this last week, he had no arrows for it, and he’d never trained with it. It would be weird to leave it be
hind, but, nonetheless, he hurried to do as instructed and returned.

  “Guardsman Keller, you are responsible for the camp,” Cullen directed a Guardsman who was leaning against the wagon. “I suggest you take that duty seriously. If I come back and find you napping, we’ll have words.”

  Keller straightened up and cleared his throat nervously. “Yes, Sergeant.” Cullen was known for allowing some leeway to full Guardsmen, but he could treat them harsher than he did the recruits if he found reason to be displeased.

  Seeing that Keller understood, Cullen gestured to Francis to lead the way, and the two set off with Trent trotting at their heels. The boy was excited. No one had explained to him why he was here or what he was supposed to accomplish. He started to ask many times, but always held back. Cullen was often willing to answer questions but was easily annoyed by recruits asking things that would be apparent if they waited a bit.

  It didn’t take them long to reach their destination. Up and down a few rolling hills, the spot they came to seem much like any other with lots of grass and weeds and a few herbs that Trent recognized. The camp was out of sight now, but nothing especially interesting had appeared. Trent looked at the Sergeant curiously but was ignored.

  “Bring over one, for now, Frank. We’ll see how the kid does.” Cullen approved of the spot even if Trent couldn’t see why.

  Corporal Francis took off jogging over yet another hill. He was soon back, dragging something behind him. An animal? Trent had never seen anything like it. Two to three feet long, covered in dark brown fur, the animal had powerful-looking hind legs and a fierce horn almost a foot-long sprouted from its head.

  The animal, or rather, beast, had to weigh over fifty pounds, but the Corporal dragged it in front of Cullen and Trent, by the scruff of its neck easily enough. It looked dazed and listless as he dropped it at their feet. Trent wondered how the Corporal had subdued it.

  “This, Runt,” Cullen said, “is a Horned Hare. Not especially dangerous, but very aggressive and a nuisance to Farmers. You’ll have to watch out for that horn; it’s sharp! Its claws can be nasty, as well, and I don’t recommend letting those teeth get hold of you either. Get ready!” With that, the Sergeant strode away.

  Francis grinned at Trent, who stood there uncertainly. “Get ready means sword out and shield up, kiddo. It’s going to wake up fast and angry!” Then the Corporal was gone, leaving Trent alone with the unconscious Hare.

  Or not so unconscious, Trent was startled to discover. The Horned Hare was struggling to its feet, huffing and panting loudly. Long ears perked up, and its head raised sharply, its nose testing the air. Its mouth opened, revealing two large blunt front teeth, and a lot of smaller sharp-looking ones. An angry hissing noise issued from that mouth.

  At him! Trent realized. Those angry dark eyes were focused firmly on him, and that hiss was obviously meant for him! For an instant, Trent stood dumbly. He wanted to explain to the beast that he was in no way responsible for its current condition, but he had the feeling the Hare wasn’t going to be very understanding.

  Its back legs tensed beneath it, and, suddenly, the Hare was lunging at him. Its spring covered the five feet to the boy instantly.

  Fortunately, it still appeared to be dizzy from whatever the Corporal had done to it. Poor aim more than Trent’s panicked sidestep kept him from finding out just how sharp the Hare’s horn was, but he did get a good close look at the glistening black of the Hare’s natural weapon. He managed to avoid being skewered but was still clipped by the beast’s shoulder as it sailed past.

  As he stumbled back, he remembered that he was armed, and his right hand fumbled for the hilt of his short sword. He planted his feet and drew his weapon, finding his stance and raising the buckler strapped to his left arm. In training, this posture had felt steady, and he thought he was mastering it. Now, as adrenaline and fear surged through him, a week of drills didn’t seem like nearly enough.

  The Hare landed on its feet; its leap had carried it a full five yards. It whirled around, eyes searching until they found their target. It was charging again! The Corporal had said it would wake up abruptly, but he hadn’t warned Trent how fast it moved!

  Trent barely managed to dodge again as the beast sped towards him. Stepping to the right, his training kicked in, and he swung at the Hare with a sweep of his arm. His buckler slapped at it, and he pushed, only it was his own feet that moved backward. That was fine. With a bit of distance now, Trent struck with his sword, chopping at the Hare’s neck and hitting its back.

  His sword bounced off the creatures hide, doing no damage beyond mussing its fur some. Hadn’t the Sergeant implied the beast was weak? Fast, strong, and, apparently, invulnerable! What exactly was weak about this ferocious creature?

  Trent’s sword and shield were now completely out of position, as the Hare faced him. His torso exposed, it was the simplest thing in the world for the beast to rear back on its hind legs and lash out with its front paws.

  Claws ripped and tore at the front of Trent’s leather jacket. Taylor’s work held up, and, while Trent felt the impact, his clothing wasn’t pierced.

  Trent stumbled back yet again. How could those thin-looking limbs hold such strength? His palms felt sweaty, and he would have turned to run if he hadn’t seen how fast the creature could move.

  The Hare hopped forward and then turned to present its rear to the boy. Thinking this was his chance, Trent almost leaped to the attack, when he realized what was going on. If thin front legs could push him, then those hind legs… he threw himself to the side.

  He would swear the Hare’s kick whistled, as its feet cut through the air where he’d been. He hit the ground hard. If he survived, the Sergeant would probably want to talk to him about this. He’d been taught how to fall, but more than that, he’d been instructed on proper dodging. He hadn’t done either correctly.

  Hitting the ground stunned him, though not as much as the realization that he had dropped his sword.

  No time to find it! The Hare pounced towards him, teeth and claws seeking flesh. Roll!

  Trent avoided the beast again, rolling twice, and then frantically pushed himself to his feet. He jumped back, head swimming. Where was his sword?

  There, just a few feet away! The Hare was coming again! No time! No time and yet Trent found himself stepping, bending, and reaching for his dropped weapon. His hand found the hilt. His neck twisted to look at the charging Horned Hare.

  Trent’s breath was labored, and sweat that had nothing to do with heat or exertion covered his face. No time to dodge or to get his shield up, his body wouldn’t move. The claws hadn’t pierced the leather, would the horn?

  Slam! Dirt, blood, and bits of bone fountained up into the air! The Hare’s body had come to a complete and sudden stop a foot away from where Trent bent unmoving. His hand clutched the hilt of his sword so tightly it hurt. The Hare’s head had disappeared, replaced by a booted foot. Its horn lay in the dirt, oddly undamaged as if it had been severed by a sharp instrument.

  Trent almost found himself wishing he’d been pierced by that horn. It couldn’t hurt more than the Sergeant’s impassive stare.

  Trent slowly straightened up, sword in hand but forgotten, shoulders and head slumped. He failed. Utterly and completely failed. He would be dead if the Sergeant hadn’t been nearby. And Cullen hadn’t even been very close. Trent hadn’t managed to injure the beast, and yet, the Sergeant had appeared from nowhere and killed the Hare instantly, without even using a weapon.

  “Es’trent,” Trent muttered listlessly. Was it any wonder his master named him useless?

  “Trent,” Cullen said, his voice low and patient, “you made mistakes. You will learn from them. Your biggest mistake was not when you dropped your sword. That happens. The mistake was trying to recover your sword.” Cullen explained as Trent’s chin lifted slightly. “You have four daggers on your chest and a belt knife at your waist, practically an armory. Gods know what Taylor thinks you need them for. Even if you didn’t re
member those, your hands and feet and the buckler on your arm are also weapons. Never turn away from a threat, just because you’ve dropped your sword.

  “However, the largest mistake made today wasn’t yours.” Trent’s chin lifted more at these words. “It was mine. You weren’t ready for this.” Cullen sighed. “You learn and adapt rapidly, but it was my mistake to push you too hard because of that.”

  “For now, you will concentrate on Herbalism. There are plenty of herbs in this area. Learning about them will raise your Intelligence, which will increase the effectiveness of your training.”

  Trent felt a spark of hope. The Sergeant didn’t seem entirely disappointed in him.

  “Sergeant, I’d like to, can I try again? I can do it,” Trent pleaded.

  “No.” Cullen’s voice was still patient but firm. “You will spend the rest of the day collecting herbs. Tomorrow, you will drill and exercise, first thing in the morning and again before sundown. In between, you’ll study and gather herbs. You are not to wander too far from…”

  “But, Sergeant,” Possibly Trent had been spending too much time with Tersa. He interrupted without thinking. His master was an Adventurer, she would want him to fight! He found the study of Herbalism interesting, but combat was necessary!

  “Trent!” Cullen didn’t shout, but the patience was gone. “I have given you your instructions; you will carry them out! Do not wander far, keep your locating rod handy, and keep your eyes open. Move out!”

  Trent’s mouth shut with a click, and he sheathed his sword before walking dejectedly away. There were herbs right where they were standing, but he wanted to be out of sight.

  “Hold up, kiddo,” Corporal Francis clapped him on the shoulder. Trent looked at him, and the Corporal pressed two items at him. “One for carrying and one for remembering.”

  Trent took the items. One was a large bag, presumably for holding any herbs he might find. He still couldn’t use Storage freely. The other item was the Hare’s horn. Trent muttered his thanks.