by James Wisher
Damien started down the hall, his step lighter than Eli had seen it since before the demon. He threw a wave over his shoulder and Eli thought Damien would be okay after all.
Chapter 24
Damien flew towards the Crimson Caldera. After the get-together he felt better than he had in a while and he’d slept like the dead. He woke up rested and eager to get started on his project. He’d left the tower at first light hoping to make the long journey in one day. Noon had come and gone an hour ago along with any chance of getting home before nightfall. Below him the mountains of the Crescent Range sped by.
Situated in the northeast corner of the kingdom, the Crimson Caldera took its name from the red-scaled drakes that nested on the lip of the pit. In the bottom magma bubbled, providing the heat necessary to hatch the great winged lizards’ eggs. What drew Damien to the inhospitable place was a report in the library that said a meteorite had struck the caldera a decade ago and no one had gone to collect it for fear of the drakes.
Meteoric iron was the purest in the kingdom and he wanted to get enough to make Jen’s sword. A shimmer of heat rose from the pit and Damien angled toward it. Though it was still August, this far north it was already getting chilly. It felt like they’d have a bad winter this year. He was eager to slice off a chunk of iron and head back.
Along the rim of the pit sat half a dozen stone nests formed from boulders as big as Damien was tall. Three of the nests held mature female fire drakes, their dull red scales, small head crests, and forty-foot length separating them from their brighter, smaller mates. Damien wrapped himself in invisibility. If the females were sitting on their nests they must have eggs and he certainly didn’t want to anger a nesting drake.
He flew over the pit. Down in the bubbling magma, bobbing like a cork on a pond, floated the meteorite. It was twice as big as his head and glowed cherry red. Damien conjured a thin disk of energy, set it to spinning, and launched it toward the chunk of iron.
It hit with a wicked shriek and started cutting into the metal. On their nests the drakes screamed and arched their necks toward the sky. Guess they don’t like the noise. He didn’t blame them, the blade squeaked worse than nails on slate.
A bright red shape hurtled down out of the sky, missing Damien by a couple feet. The male drake rushed toward the cutting blade, intent on killing whatever was bothering his mate. Its wings snapped open a five feet from the magma and it lashed out with a talon.
The black claw hit Damien’s disk and got sliced off. The drake shrieked and swooped around for another pass.
Stupid beast, it couldn’t hurt his blade. It could only cut up its talons. Damien poured more power into the blade, hoping to get the metal he needed before the drake finished wheeling around for another pass.
The increased speed of the blade’s rotation made the screeching even louder, prompting the drakes to scream at greater volume. Damien conjured ear covers before he went deaf. The male finished its turn and once again dove at the blade, this time with its fanged mouth leading.
Not good.
The beast was about to lose its bottom jaw. He didn’t want to hurt the drake; he just wanted to get the iron.
Damien wrapped the drake in soul force and sent it plunging into the magma. It flopped around, annoyed but unharmed by the intense heat.
His blade finished cutting and the small chunk of iron slipped into the magma. Silence fell in the caldera, much to his relief. He formed a bubble of soul force around the small chunk and lifted it out of the magma. On a whim he grabbed the sliced-off talon as well. It might make a nice pommel for the sword.
Damien flew off with his prize and when he was a safe distance away released the male drake. The creature roared, trumpeting its victory over the now-vanished blade.
Chapter 25
Damien focused on the lump of iron sitting on the heavy table he’d dragged up to his room. He’d already removed all the impurities, leaving behind nothing but clean metal. Now he had to shape it.
He inserted his power into the ore and felt the molecules of iron. They seemed jumbled up, going every which way. Before he aligned them he needed to mold the lump into a blade. Pushing, pulling and stretching, Damien slowly coaxed the metal into a rough bar.
He gasped and let his focus lapse. He’d used three quarters of his power and all he had to show for it was a bar of metal. Better than a lump, but he still had a long way to go. Damien leaned back in his chair and wiped the sweat from his brow. He hadn’t even moved and look at him: sweat drenched his body and his limbs were trembling. It might have been less work to beat the metal into shape at a forge. Of course, that wouldn’t help him improve his shaping technique.
For the next two weeks Damien labored on the blade from the time he got up in the morning until he went to bed at night. He’d gotten it shaped into a proper blade, albeit a blunt, unbalanced one. He was about to dive back into his work when he heard steps outside in the hall. Who could be visiting him up here? Ann was the only one he knew that might, and she should be training her new student.
Curious, Damien went to the door and poked his head out into the hall. A woman he didn’t recognize stood two doors up from him, a glowing key in the air in front of her. She must be one of his floormates back from assignment.
Maybe she hadn’t heard about his adventure with the demon. If he got her to commit to taking him as an apprentice before she found out he could finally start his fieldwork.
He darted out the door and strode toward her. “Excuse me. I’m—”
“The demon slayer, I heard.” She turned to face him. Her hair was going gray and fine wrinkles lined her face. Despite her apparent age her gaze was firm and she stood straight and tall.
On the inside he winced, but he let nothing show on his face. “That’s been completely blown out of proportion.”
She laughed at that. “Kid, there’s no way the statement ‘he killed a demon all by himself’ can be blown out of proportion. If you did it, you did it. There’s no other way to say it. Did you do it?”
He hung his head. “Yes, ma’am. I didn’t set out to, it just sort of happened. I don’t suppose you’re looking for an apprentice?”
“No, and even if I was, there’d be no point in me choosing you. On my best day I wouldn’t last ten seconds against a demon, even a weak one. If you killed one at your age, with such limited experience, you’re at a different level than me. I wouldn’t know where to begin teaching you. I’m sorry.”
He sighed. “Thanks anyway. At least it’ll be nice to have some company up here.”
“I doubt I’ll be good company. After three months in the field without a break, I plan to sleep then sleep some more. I’m Maria von Kade.” She held out a hand.
“Damien St. Cloud.” They shook and he left Maria to her rest.
After yet another rejection he didn’t feel like working on the sword anymore. In fact he didn’t feel like staying in the tower. He needed to get out. Damien went to the stairwell and flew down to the sixth floor to see if Ann had finished her training for the day.
He knocked on her closed door and it opened a few seconds later. Ann smiled and leaned against the door frame. “Everything all right, Damien?”
“I need a change of scenery. Have you had dinner yet?”
“No, I just finished my lessons a little while ago. What did you have in mind?”
“Dinner at the Dancing Pony, my treat.”
She beamed. “A date with my favorite student, how lovely. Let me get my cloak.”
Damien started to say it wasn’t a date, but she had disappeared back into her apartment. She returned a moment later wrapped in a midnight-blue cloak. They left the tower and Damien flew them to the little town just down the road.
The founders, creative souls that they were, named the place Tower Town. Most of the commerce revolved around supplying the tower with everything it needed to function, mainly food and other mundane supplies. Several inns and taverns catered to the visitors that had business
with the masters, along with sorcerers that got sick of the food in the dining hall.
When they landed in the packed dirt street just outside the Dancing Pony, the finest inn the village had to offer, no one spared them so much as a second glance. It spoke to how often sorcerers visited Tower Town that two people landing in the middle of the street didn’t rate so much as a pause in stride.
The Dancing Pony was a two-story inn with a dining room on the first floor and rooms for rent on the second. You could find a similar building in every town in the kingdom just about. Damien held the door for Ann then closed it behind them. Half a dozen people sat in the common room. They had beaten the dinner rush which suited Damien fine. He wasn’t much in the mood for noise or crowds.
A fire blazed in the fireplace taking the chill off the cool night. They found a table near the hearth and Damien helped Ann take her cloak off. The waitress came over to take their order then left them alone.
“So what’s the matter? You never want to go out.”
Damien slumped in his chair. “I’m sick of being turned down. Every sorcerer I talk to is unwilling to take a chance on me. What are they afraid of?”
“Some are afraid you’ll show them up, and others honestly don’t know how best to help you. You just have to be patient. Eventually you’ll find the right mentor.”
“I guess. Has anyone ever quit before? Just given up on the whole damn thing?”
Ann’s normally cheerful face went dark as she frowned. “A few quit every decade, moving on to work for merchants traveling through rough country, or going off to explore some distant corner of the kingdom, but most sorcerers consider it an honor to serve on the front lines, protecting the people. The ones that choose to leave the crown’s service still keep in touch with The Tower to remain in good standing with the government.”
“Yeah, I know about the ones that go into private service. I mean has anyone left it all behind, just vanished and made a new life having nothing to do with sorcery?”
“It’s not something we advertise, but it happens. Since the school’s founding less than ten sorcerers have vanished. Most left the kingdom, but there are a handful we’ve lost track of entirely. Those are the ones we fear the most. If they’re hiding it’s probably because they’re up to no good. The most recent was sixteen years ago, a young man named Connor Blackman fled ahead of a group of sorcerers coming to arrest him on charges of trafficking with demons. No one knows where he went after that. It’s like he just disappeared.”
They finished their meal in silence. Damien couldn’t stop wondering what would happen if he decided to run away. Would they send a group of sorcerers to kill him rather than let him go? It wasn’t the sort of thing he liked to think about. He understood the masters’ point of view. It would be horrible for all sorcerers to have a rogue running around doing whatever he liked.
After dinner they flew back to the tower and Damien walked Ann to her apartment. They stopped outside her door. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t very good company tonight.”
She smiled and patted his cheek. “That’s okay. Are you feeling better?”
“I’m not planning on running away if that’s what you’re asking. I’ll finish Jen’s sword and if I still haven’t found someone willing to take a chance on me, I’ll try to convince the high sorcerers to assign someone.”
Chapter 26
Damien focused on the edge of his sister’s sword. It was already sharp enough to shave with, but he wanted to get the edge a little finer, make it a little harder so it lasted longer. He’d been working on it almost nonstop for the last two months. The balance was flawless, the blade strong and flexible. It wasn’t as polished as Lizzy, but Damien didn’t think you’d find a better weapon anywhere in the kingdom. Even the fire drake talon he’d set in the pommel looked like it was meant to be there.
Fine grains of iron fell to the tabletop as he ran his soul force along the edge. He made ten more passes before he felt certain he couldn’t get it any sharper. He lifted the sword and wiped a cloth along the blade to remove any remaining iron filings. The hilt felt warm in his hand. According to the book that was because he’d put so much of his soul force in the iron a little had remained behind. That was one of the unique properties of a soul-forged blade. He would also be able to sense it anywhere in the world.
He made a couple of swings, careful not to damage any of his room’s minimal furnishings. Satisfied with his creation Damien placed it in the cherry wood box he’d had the carpenter in town build. The sword nestled down into the crushed velvet lining, the deep-gray metal stark against the red cloth. Like Ann said, black and red were the colors for battle. He hoped Jen liked it. The hasp clicked shut and he tucked her gift under his arm. He was eager to see her reaction and, since he had nothing else to do, he decided he’d take it to her right now. He could fly to The Citadel in time to have lunch with her.
Damien left his apartment, flew down to the first floor, and went out onto the steps. It was only mid October, but a foot of snow covered the grass and the guards huddled under thick cloaks. Sunlight reflected off the snow forcing him to narrow his eyes. This was the time of year when the guards earned their money. At each corner of the wall a brazier burned so they could warm themselves as they walked the perimeter. Most of them spent more time standing around the fire talking than they did patrolling.
Damien shook his head. No one had yet explained to him why they even bothered with guards on the wall. He still leaned toward it being some sort of punishment.
He expanded his shield so it was six inches away from his skin then vibrated the air trapped between his skin and the shield, creating a pocket of warm air around his body. He couldn’t raise his body temperature like a warlord, but this was a good alternative. He leapt into the air and turned toward home. A few hundred yards from the tower he increased his speed, pushing with everything he had. The ground became a blur of white and green. He wished he had some way to measure his speed.
Half an hour later The Citadel came into view; a new personal record. If he kept practicing he might make the trip in fifteen minutes. Below him in the training yard tiny figures ran around, carrying parcels. Saddled horses pawed the ground outside the stables and no one was training.
What the hell was going on? He remembered training in snow twice this deep
He landed beside the door, not bothering with the official landing zone. A pair of first years brushed past without seeming to notice him. Inside, students and full warlords jammed the entry hall. They stood talking in clusters, the unsteady flow of their soul force revealing their anxiety.
Some wore travel gear and had their weapons belted on. Many of the younger ones looked nervous. Damien saw no sign of Jen. He ran up the steps and down the hall to their quarters, hoping to find her.
He knocked once and pushed the door open. “Sis? Dad? Anybody here?”
Jen emerged from her room. She wore her standard slashed blue tunic and pants, her sword jutted up behind her head and a rucksack was slung over her shoulder. “Damien? What are you doing here?”
“I brought you your name day present early and I thought we might have lunch together. It looks like I came at a bad time.”
“I’ll say. Haven’t you heard? The Ice Queen’s army is on the move. General Kord expects to make contact within the next couple of weeks. Eight squads are being deployed to help and another ten are going to handle any stragglers that slip through the line.”
“I’m glad I got here before you left. If you’re going into battle my gift will come in handy.” He held the five-foot box out to her.
“I don’t have time.”
“Please. You won’t regret it, I promise.”
Jen set her bag down, took the box, and opened it. She gasped when she saw what was inside. “It’s beautiful. Damien, how did you afford this?”
“I didn’t buy it, I made it. It’s soul-forged from meteoric iron. Took me two months to craft it.”
Jen removed the long sword f
rom the box. “It’s amazing. The handle’s warm.”
Damien explained about how a bit of his soul force remained in the blade after he finished with it. “Even when we’re apart a little bit of me will always be with you.”
She set the sword and box on the kitchen counter and hugged him. “Best present ever. Thanks, little brother. But now I’ve really got to go.”
She replaced her old sword with his soul-forged blade, put the box and her old sword on the couch, and started toward the door.
“Got room in your squad for one more?”
Jen looked over her shoulder. “You volunteering?”
“The masters have me sitting around the tower sucking my thumb. Maybe I can do some good up north.”
“You don’t have any gear or weapons.”
Damien let a little power blaze around his body. “I am a weapon, and anything else I need I can scrounge up in camp.”
“I’m convinced. After that business with the demon I’m sure the guys won’t complain. Come on.”
They left The Citadel and walked around to the stables. Jen’s squad was readying their horses. The scene reminded Damien of when they’d gone hunting the goblins, only this time forty other warlords readied their mounts all around them.
“Guys,” Jen said when they were close enough. “We’ve got an extra recruit. I trust no one will complain if my little brother rides with us again.”
Unlike last time, smiles and handshakes greeted Damien, none warmer than from Talon who walked without even a limp after his close encounter with the goblin spear. A horse appeared beside Damien and he climbed aboard. “Where’s Dad?”
Jen swung up onto her own horse and nudged it over beside him. “The king called him back to the capital to take command of the reinforcements in case our line breaks.”
