03- A Sip of Magic

by Guy Antibes

The man’s address confused Pol for a moment. He shook his head. “That’s me. Are you my partner?”

  The monk nodded. “Spinner’s my name. You don’t have to put a monk in front. I’m a backyard noble, not like most of the others here.”

  Pol nodded.

  “I’m pretty good with a sword. I heard you were, too.”

  “I had some recent training,” Pol said, thinking this was some kind of setup. This time the forms had warmed him up. “Shall we begin?”

  “Wait,” the trainer said. “Here’s something to make it more interesting.” He threw padded jerkins and metal swords on the ground.

  “Real blades?” Pol asked. He looked down. These were thin swords, but that would suit both of them.

  “Going to back out?” Spinner said, with a grin. He didn’t look malicious.

  “No. I’ve fought with a blade before.”

  “You said you’ve trained, not fought,” the trainer said.

  “I’ve trained and fought. We had bandits on the property last spring. I did my part, just like I’ll do my part for the Great God Tesna.”

  “The Great God Tesna,” the monks in hearing range said together.

  “No blood, or I’ll stop the match,” the trainer said.

  Pol wasn’t so sure that would happen with the other monks making a ring around them. Was he going to be a sacrifice to Tesna?

  He picked up one of the blades and swished it around, getting a feel for the balance, and then he picked up the other while Spinner struggled to don his pads. He couldn’t tell much difference between the two swords. This would be a better test than with Monk Bettlor, and Pol would probably have to chance a little magic against Spinner, by the looks of the way the monk swung his sword.

  “You may begin.”

  Pol jumped back like he always did and saw that Spinner did much the same thing. He laughed and Spinner joined in. “You’re not new to this, are you?”

  Pol shook his head.

  Spinner took a step and then another with the same lead foot. He whipped his sword from right to left in a diagonal slash. Pol didn’t need anticipation magic to tell what Spinner would do. He telegraphed his moves with his gangly body. Pol parried the slash and backhanded one of his own, slicing into the jerkin. The sword cut segments of the coarse thick cloth in a line. The weapons were sharp.

  His opponent put his sword down and looked at his jerkin. “Not new at all,” he muttered. His easy-going expression left as he attacked in bursts. A parried thrust here, an escaped lunge there. Spinner was just as fast as Pol without using sips of magic, but he wasn’t as experienced, Pol found out. Pol didn’t think. He just reacted.

  “You can do better than that, Nater,” the trainer said.

  Pol looked at the monk, and the distraction gave Spinner a chance to cut into Pol’s left arm. The pads didn’t cushion the blow enough not avoid a bruise. He grit his teeth and began to push Spinner back with a series of quick slashes and backhanded blows when he pulled his sword back.

  As fast as Spinner was, Pol’s technique made him more effective against his lanky opponent. If this was the best of the monks, he wondered how the Tesnans intended to take over the world.

  A band of pressure began to squeeze Pol’s head. Spinner was narrowing his eyes. Mind-control. The monk’s concentration on his spell didn’t last long as Pol took advantage of the spell’s distraction and thrust three times into Spinner’s stomach, forcing the monk to fall on his rear end, poking hard enough to make it hurt, but not enough to pierce the padding.

  Spinner dropped his sword. “He’s too good,” the monk announced to the circle of monks.

  The trainer looked at Spinner and then at Pol.

  “What about your spell?” the trainer said to Spinner.

  His opponent shrugged. “It didn’t work on him. That’s when he began to poke me.” Spinner still held a hand to his stomach.

  “A spell?” Pol asked. “That’s what it was.” Pol feigned amazement. “I had the worst headache and had to finish the match before I lost sight from the pain.” He rubbed his forehead, although he felt fine.

  “A resister,” one of the monks said. Pol felt another bit of pressure and put his hand to his forehead again.

  “Do you get headaches often?”

  Pol nodded. “For some reason, I get them when I go to the midnight meetings. I’m not used to rising in the middle of the night.”

  The trainer looked at Pol. “You’ll train with the monks from now on. I’d say you’ve earned it.”

  Pol looked around at monks nodding their heads in agreement. Even Spinner gave him an encouraging look, although he hadn’t yet gotten up from the ground.

  What had Pol gotten into?

  ~

  “So much for maintaining a low profile,” Shro said, referring to Pol’s description of his sword fight at dinner.

  “I noticed I haven’t been removed from the task lists,” Pol said, rubbing the painful lump on his upper arm. “Do you want to visit the library with me? I need to do a little research on what ‘resisters’ are. That’s what the monks called me when I used my mind shield.” Pol had been called a resister before, but with events accelerating, he wanted a better understanding.

  She shrugged her shoulders. “Neither of us have night duty, so sure.”

  They left the barracks and made their way to the library. No one sat at the desk, so Pol and Shro walked right in. Pol led her to the mind-control shelf and each of them took a copy of the instruction book.

  “You start at the back, and I’ll scan the pages from the beginning,” Pol said.

  “Here it is towards the back,” she said. “There are certain people who are resistant to mind-control spells. They might exhibit some physical expression of the spell’s effect, but will retain their will. These are known as ‘resisters’. They retain the ability to influence other minds.” Shro looked over at Pol.

  “So we are resisters?” She grinned.

  Pol nodded. “Before you came, I was involved in a, uh, situation. One of the monks tried to put a spell on me, but it didn’t work. I could feel pressure in my head, similar to the shield I taught you. I’ve pretended to get a headache when the net has been cast by a monk.”

  “Your magical abilities go much further than just being a good learner, don’t they?”

  There might be a reason,” Pol said, smiling. “Something in my ancestral past.”

  “We all have echoes from the past shaping our futures,” Shro said.

  Her words sounded like something she had read. They continued to read until after dark.

  A monk caught them. “You two shouldn’t be here.”

  Pol pulled the pass out of his pocket. “I have a pass.”

  “Let me look at it.” He ripped it up as soon as Pol let go. “With all of us training, you don’t have library privileges anymore. Take those books back and leave immediately.”

  “At least he didn’t even look at the books,” Pol said as they returned the volumes to the right place on the shelves.

  “I’m sorry.” Shro said.

  “No reason to be sorry. I invited you, and it’s my fault. If we really are leaving the monastery soon, there isn’t any harm done.”

  They walked out the door. Pol looked back at the library. Before they left Tesna, he vowed he would have one of those copies in his bags, as well as any he could find on compulsion. The monks at Deftnis needed to know about the Tesnan mind-control techniques.

  Pol didn’t say anything else while they returned to the barracks and their room.

  “You haven’t been in contact with your friends?” Shro asked as she rubbed her face and sat down on her bed.

  “No. I don’t know if I’ll be able to now. At this point I’ll be lucky if I do, since I won’t be returning to the practice field.” Pol wondered why the fates had instigated an unwanted promotion. He shook his head and got under the covers. “I’ll slumber, hoping my dreams will lead me to my countrymen.”

  “That’s so
exclusionary,” Shro said.

  “Ok, they will lead me to my countrymen and you to yours.”

  “Better.” He heard a muffled giggle.

  ~

  Both of them were rousted from their beds for another midnight meeting. Pol rubbed his eyes and put his robe over his clothes. With Shro in the room, he slept fully dressed. It seemed more proper, since she did, too.

  They shuffled through the buildings and across the courtyard to the assembly hall. Pol thought of the place as more of a temple or a church in the late hours. The pair of them took their customary seats in the back.

  Abbot Festor entered. Even from Pol’s vantage point, he noticed the Abbot’s tired, red eyes. The man must have had a hard day or little sleep. He raised his hands and silence ensued.

  Pol felt the customary pressure of the mind-control spell and put his hand to his forehead to fake a headache. He had new acquaintances that might be looking his way, so he had to present physical evidence of his resistance.

  He didn’t think Abbot Festor had said anything provocative other than to spout off about Tesna’s divinity and to be obedient. Pol had always worked as hard as everyone else in the monastery.

  “Is something wrong?” Shro whispered.

  Pol gave her a dirty look to keep her quiet and continued to hold his forehead. She bumped him and he gave her a wink. That settled the Shinkyan down.

  “After breakfast, travel packs will be available around the monastery. There are three sizes: small, midsize, and large. Inside will be a uniform. We are marching for our god tomorrow. Don your uniform and meet in the courtyard outside. Monks will ride and acolytes will march. Before leaving the monastery, you will select weapons and helmets. We fight for Tesna, and He says we will prevail. Hail the Great God Tesna!”

  “Hail the Great God Tesna,” the monks and acolytes intoned.

  As Pol left the meeting, the trainer monk pulled Pol aside, while Pol still held his hand to his head.

  “Here.” He handed Pol a large travel pack. It weighed a lot more than he expected. “You see me in the morning. You’ll be riding with the monks.”

  “But I’m just a new acolyte,” Pol said, protesting his elevation.

  “I’d rather have you at my side than any of them.” The trainer looked at the monks passing by.

  “Yes, monk.”

  “I’ll have a military title tomorrow. You can call me Captain Horker when we’ve left Tesna.”

  “Yes, Monk Horker.”

  The monk smiled and rubbed Pol’s shaved head. “You’ll be riding with me.”

  Pol continued on, by himself, now that he lugged a heavy pack. The acolytes were always the last in and the first out of the meetings.

  He set the pack on an empty bed.

  “What’s that?” Shro said.

  “They gave me my gear early.” Pol said. He made a magic light and examined the pack. There was a tag that read ‘Monk-Small’.

  He opened it up and smelled the acrid odor of oiled chain mail. Pulling out the chain mail, he held it up to him. It was a long short-sleeved tunic.

  “Nothing to protect the neck,” Pol said, shaking his head. The pack had a pair of leather pants that fit well enough together with a thin suede tunic cut smaller than the chainmail. At the bottom was a thick woolen tabard in maroon with a silver-embroidered Tesnan symbol on the chest.

  Shro whistled. “You did get a promotion. We acolytes will be lucky to get anything. I’m thinking the acolytes are front-line fodder.”

  “You know about battle?”

  Shro smirked. “I’ve read books, just like you. You’ve never been to battle before, not at your age.”

  “Last summer. I accompanied a campaign to the Taridan border. I ended up fighting my enemy.” He didn’t want to get into the details with Shro. “I also have read lots of books,” he smiled as he began to remove his uniform. He rummaged around in the pack. He found a bag with oiled cloth inside, presumably to clean his chainmail shirt.

  “Now I know why the Emperor chose you, of all people, to come here.”

  “The Emperor didn’t choose me; one of his Seekers did.”

  Shro scoffed at his words. “The only magician with a Shinkyan horse in the Empire chosen at random?” She snorted and folded her arms.

  Pol ignored her. “I suppose we’ll be doing a lot of walking tomorrow.” He didn’t want to tell her that he thought he’d be riding along with the monks. Breaking that news would wait until morning.

  After lying awake for a long time, Pol sat up. He couldn’t leave the monastery without taking one of the books on mind-control. The Emperor and the Abbot at Deftnis had to know about the casual use of the technique on the monks themselves.

  Pol slipped out of the room and spelled himself invisible as he made his way out of the building and slipped through the shadows to the library. He stood looking at the library from the building on the other side of the walkway.

  “Out for a stroll?” Shro asked quietly as she slid beside him. “I can guess what you are after. Want any help?”

  Pol looked at her and felt alarm. “How do you know I’m here? I’m invisible.”

  Shro pointed down at the gravel walkway and at Pol’s tracks. The girl showed Seeker skills.

  “Do I have a choice?” he asked.

  He could see her teeth shine in the darkness. “No,” she said matter-of-factly. “I’ll go first.”

  Before Pol could say another word she ran quickly and pressed herself next to the door. He could see her suddenly become hard to make out. If he hadn’t known she was there, Pol would have ignored her.

  Pol used a wind pattern to obliterate the tracks behind him as he walked towards the library. He’d have to eliminate their tracks on the way back.

  “You’re better at locks than I am. This door isn’t warded,” Shro said as Pol stood beside her, backs to the building. Her camouflage was interesting. It was different than Pol’s invisibility in that it seemed like she drew the pattern of the background in the front with her magic.

  “I erased my tracks,” he said.

  “That would be useful to know.”

  “Maybe we can do some trading later.” He turned and opened the door for her.

  They both stood in the dark silence of the library. “Let’s make this quick.” Pol knew where the books were. He lit a tiny magician’s light and cupped it in his hand while he walked right to the shelf that had held the books on mind-control.

  “All of these shelves are empty,” Shro said.

  Pol’s spirits shrunk. He looked at the blank spaces and wondered. “They must be taking these books with them or storing them in a more secure space when the monastery is empty.” Doing such a thing didn’t make much sense to Pol. He would have just secured the library, but he was far from making decisions on behalf of the monastery.

  Shro left him, and he followed towards the back of the library. Both of them stopped when they heard voices.

  “One more load, then we padlock the place up,” a voice said, getting louder.

  Lantern light illuminated the back of the library. Pol and Shro hugged the shadows while two guards walked past them and around some shelves. They quickly slipped out of the library through the rear door.

  “Where are the carts?” Shro asked.

  “I don’t know,” Pol said, but then he lit another magic light and carefully shielding its light, he saw fresh footprints. “I guess I do know.”

  They followed the traces until they came to a fenced area. Shro tried the padlocked gate.

  “I’ll get us through.”

  Pol couldn’t lock it from the inside so they wouldn’t have much time. They ran to three wooden-covered carts filled with carefully stacked books.

  “I found them,” Shro said. She straightened up and had two of the books in her hand. “One for me and one for you.”

  They heard voices approaching. Pol looked around for an exit, but couldn’t find anything. He gestured to Shro, but she shook him off.


  As the two men opened the gate, one accused the other of not locking up. Then all of a sudden they froze.

  “Let’s get out of here,” Shro said.

  “What did you just do?”

  “It’s a simple enough spell. You just lock the pattern. It has a thousand uses,” she said, smiling. “It doesn’t last long, so we need to leave.”

  “I’m looking for one more volume.” Pol frantically rummaged through the books until he found one on compulsion. “Done.” Pol looked down at the ground. “Footprints?”

  Shro shrugged and waved her hand on the dirt. “Not a complete erasure, but if we did that, the monks might suspect something.”

  ~~~

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  ~

  NO ONE MENTIONED THE LIBRARY THEFT, and Pol could see why. The monastery was in an uproar when they emerged from the basement barracks. No military camp would put up with the chaos. Pol dressed in his uniform and took his pack including his normal clothes and sought out Captain Horker.

  “There you are. You’ll have to find boots and a helmet that fits over there.” The Captain pointed to tables covered with gear. “Find weapons you can get used to in the assembly hall.”

  Pol observed monks walking out with shiny swords. He hoped would find some knives to carry. First, a helmet, he thought. The boots that he wore to the monastery were better than any in the pile.

  The monks had to have planned for this for some time to assemble all these uniforms and arms. There were no socks, so he found a pair in his pack and put them on. Other monks were putting the stiff, new boots over their bare feet. Obviously, someone had never marched in the army.

  The helmets were heavier than what he wore in North Salvan. They were a simple design of four sections rising from a short brim that went all the way around the bottom to the peak. A bolted plate joined each of the four edges. A tiny medal of the Tesnan symbol adorned the center of the brow.

  Pol looked inside and pulled out a felt liner. He could see light from the seams. He would use pattern magic to bind the metal when he was alone. The rest of the monks would have water seeping onto their heads when it rained. He shook his head. At least the monks would look nice.

  The weapons hall, as Pol now thought of it, was filling up with acolytes and monks. Acolytes had their own section, but he saw a few sets of bows and quivers of arrows, along with knives, swords, and many spears. Shro would like that. Stacked shields were next to the tables. Each acolyte had to carry a spear and a shield. Pol nodded to himself. Front-line fodder. Shro was correct. Castall, unfortunately, had spent all their time training them with swords when they should have teamed up with long poles.