Disciple of War (Art of the Adept Book 4)

by Michael G. Manning

  “We can’t hear you,” someone said.

  Nervous and feeling impatient, Will spoke again, and without thinking he manipulated the turyn in the air in front of him. His voice boomed out, strong and clear. “As some have noticed, the journals are empty. This was deliberate, as I had no desire to copy out the spells—I want you to learn. You will do that for yourselves.” Janice’s head jerked, and she gave him an odd look.

  He met her questioning eyes and shrugged. I have no idea what I did, he thought silently. It was obviously wild magic of some type, but he hadn’t planned it. Hurriedly, he continued, “There are several copies of a single spell on the table where you picked up the journals. I’d like some of you to retrieve them and copy them into your journal. Once you’ve done so, pass them along and also share your journal. I’d like everyone here to have the spell in your journal before our next meeting. I’d also like everyone to memorize the spell. The journals are for your reference, but when we leave with the army you will have a selection of spells written within. By that time, I intend for each of you to know all of them by heart.”

  His voice projection continued to work flawlessly. It had almost faltered for a moment as he paid conscious attention to what he was doing, but the process was so natural that he recovered quickly. A long groan rose from the crowd, the sound common to students who have just been given an assignment. Will smiled to himself.

  “The spell you’ll be learning today is a simple force-wall, something many of you have probably learned before, though you may not have memorized it.”

  A young man off to the right lifted his hand. The gesture was a stark reminder to Will that these were students, rather than soldiers, although the distinction would soon be academic. He pointed at the fellow, indicating he should speak. “Then why ask us to copy it out? Shouldn’t we be learning battle spells?”

  Will nodded in acknowledgment of the question. “A valid point. You will be learning battle spells. But I am starting everyone on the spells that I think will be most important for us in this war. In order to function as a cohesive force, it’s crucial that I know not only your rough abilities, but also exactly what spells you know. The force-wall spell you’re learning today will be identical to the one that everyone else here is learning. If I have to call out for you to use it while in formation, I’ll know exactly what to expect. That wouldn’t be possible if everyone were using a hodgepodge of different spells.”

  “Won’t attack spells be the most important thing to learn?”

  He didn’t see who had asked the question, but he’d planned ahead for it. Lifting one hand, he released a spell he’d prepared in advance and launched a massive fireball at the throng. People screamed, some dove for the ground, others tried to run, but for the most part they tripped over one another. A few managed to react constructively, erecting defensive barriers around themselves with the element controlled by their elemental, though that was only possible for the minority who had non-fire elementals. Even so, even among those with the option, most failed to defend themselves effectively. Crimson flames washed over them harmlessly, and after a few seconds people began to swear and curse as they realized the fire hadn’t burned them.

  The spell he had used was a personal variation on the classic fireball spell. Of course, no one had bothered to learn the spell in ages, since anyone with a fire elemental didn’t require it, and modern wizards couldn’t afford to waste their lifespan on combat spells. These days he had free reign of the restricted section at the college library, so he hadn’t even needed to sneak around to learn it. He’d adapted the spell to use the same harmless flames employed by his demon-armor spell. As the flames faded, he made a quick note of those who hadn’t been touched by the special turyn infused within the flames.

  Will had to project himself once again to be heard over the complaints. “That was just an example, but I’ll give you another to make things clear. First, though…” He began pointing at individuals who had managed to defend themselves. “You, you, you, you, you, and you—step forward and give Janice your names. I’m going to have you meet me at another time for special instruction.” When one of them grinned, he continued, “Don’t consider yourself too lucky. You’ll be expected to teach the others anything I show you. From this point forward, you’ll be class role models.”

  A chorus of groans went up. Janice moved forward to meet them and began writing their names down, but as soon as the crowd seemed to have relaxed, Will sent another fireball in their direction. This time Janice lifted one hand and released the spell she had kept prepared for just that moment. A wide force-wall sprang up, interrupting the path of the flaming sphere and causing it to splash off to the sides. Janice met Will’s eyes and winked conspiratorially.

  “That was a simple demonstration, but I think everyone here gets the point,” Will said loudly. “Once you’ve copied the spell, I expect each and every one of you to keep it prepared from this day forward.”

  A young woman on the left raised her hand, and when he pointed at her she asked, “For how long?”

  “Until the war is over, or I order otherwise.”

  Someone else in the back shouted a follow-up, “What about those of us who can’t keep a spell prepared yet?”

  “Then you’ll be practicing until you can. That brings me to another question,” he announced. “How many of you can keep two spells prepared while still being able to construct and use other spells?” Out of the two hundred only seven raised their hands. “Step forward and give Janice your names. You’ll be joining the special practice group and helping others with their training.”

  One of those had already given Janice his name, as he’d also successfully defended himself with an earthen shield. He was a short, curly-haired young man with dark hair and dark eyes. Will pointed to him. “What’s your name?”

  The object of his interest looked as though he wanted to disappear into the ground as his cheeks flushed. “I—I already gave it to her,” stammered the student.

  “And I’m asking you what it is for personal reference.”

  “Burk Leighton, sir, but everyone calls me Bug.” A smattering of laughter rose from the gathered students.

  Will’s eyes narrowed. “What do you prefer?”

  “It’s all right, sir. I prefer Bug. My grandfather gave me the nickname.”

  “Bug it is, then,” said Will. I’ll be keeping an eye on you, he thought to himself. He was going to need as much talent as he could find when spring came. Will raised his voice once more. “That’s all for today. I’ll expect everyone to have the spell memorized and prepared for our next session. Before you leave, look at the last page of the journal you have. You’ll find a time and date listed there, which indicates when you’re expected at Byron Waters’ armory. Each of you will be measured and fitted for your gear.”

  “Gear?” someone asked from the back.

  Will nodded. “Helm, gambeson, mail shirt, shield, and falchion. You’ll be equipped and armored similarly to the private contract soldiers, although only some of them can afford mail.”

  Some of the students seemed excited at the prospect while others blanched at the news. One of the unhappier ones raised her hand and asked a question. “Armor is hot and heavy, not to mention some of us aren’t as brawny as others. Why do we need it? We won’t be near the fighting lines.”

  His eyes were unforgiving as he answered the question, “On the contrary, each of you will be assigned to a company. You’ll be eating, sleeping, and marching with whichever company you’re assigned to. Not coincidentally, you’ll also be with them when they join battle. A force-wall spell won’t do them any good if you’re standing several hundred yards away.”

  The response was mixed. Some gasped, and others looked even more excited. One well-dressed man who was obviously from a noble family asked, “If we already have armor can we use that instead?”

  “Mail, yes, gambesons, maybe, so long as they are plain and unadorned. I’ll allow a breastplate if you h
ave one, but if it’s lacquered or ornamented it won’t be suitable. Essentially, I don’t want any of you to stand out beyond what a sergeant might be wearing, otherwise you’ll make a prime target. Part of the reason for armoring you is to make you blend in, as well as protecting you from stray arrows.”

  “Why the swords? Won’t they be a waste?”

  Will didn’t see who asked that, but he’d been expecting something along those lines. “Unless you can reflex cast, there may be moments when you don’t have any better option. Don’t worry, though. The local reserves will be coming to meet us next week, along with several training officers. In addition to the spells and special training I’ll be giving you, you will also be drilled in marching, standard formations, basic sword techniques, and how to set up and break down tents.”

  The same fellow who’d asked about bringing his own armor seemed offended. “Aren’t we joining as officers? We won’t be doing that sort of drudge work.”

  Will moved forward, causing the crowd to part as he approached the fellow who had spoken. When he was a few feet away, he studied the young man critically. He was red-haired and heavily built. His clothes indicated wealth, but the callouses on his hands and the tanned freckled skin of his neck and forearms showed a propensity for outdoor training. So he likes to train but he fancies himself as being above the common soldiers. “What’s your name?”

  The young noble straightened up as he answered, “Emory Tallowen, Your Grace.”

  “From now until this is over, address me simply as ‘sir.’ You will be doing all the things I just listed, Mister Tallowen. Although each of you will be provisionally entered into the rolls as lieutenants, you will have very little authority. Do not expect any special treatment and don’t think you can order the sergeants and corporals to do anything. Most particularly, I will be paying close attention to whether any of you attempt to use your limited authority to get out of ordinary chores. You will be setting up camp, digging latrines, and all the rest of it.”

  Tallowen’s face turned red. “That’s ridiculous!”

  “Does your family have any other sons?”

  “What?”

  Will smiled maliciously. “I’m just wondering in case you decide to take your pompous outrage any further. The weregild for the oldest, or heaven forbid, an only son, is significantly more—not that I’m unwilling to pay whatever it might be.”

  The young noble’s mouth fell open in shock. Will waited a few seconds, then continued, “If you want respect or privileges, you’ll have to earn them. Otherwise, I expect you to keep your mouth shut and your complaints to yourself.” He took two steps back and raised his voice once more, projecting loudly across the field. “Dismissed!”

  Chapter 18

  Will had difficulty focusing on his classes, as his thoughts were continually occupied now. The military planning sessions were partly responsible for that, but his role there was less involved. He didn’t have experience with the levers of power, or the practical matters involved with organizing and provisioning an army. Truth be known, he wasn’t much behind the other lords, for it was Martin Bradshaw who truly shined when it came to organizing the food, livestock, supplies, manpower—everything required to make it possible for an army to function. The man was a miracle.

  The other lords contented themselves with planning their route and coming up with a rough timeline. Other than that, there wasn’t much that could be done. Will listened and intervened when it was necessary to make a choice and the others couldn’t agree. Other than that, he simply did his best to educate himself regarding every decision made. He paid particular attention to Martin—the man knew how to organize.

  What truly kept his mind busy was training the two hundred student sorcerers. Each week he introduced a new spell to add to their journal. Most of the spells were rather basic, and given the years of study they’d had, a portion of the students already knew some of them, but the point was standardization. If I’m going to give orders to them, I need to know for certain that they can use the spells and exactly what they can do, he told himself. He consulted Arrogan frequently, and the old man agreed with him on that front. The spirit of his teacher also made numerous recommendations, both about the spells chosen, as well as the training they focused on.

  A few months wouldn’t be enough to get any of them to the point of reflex casting, and if it did, it would only be with a single spell. “The point-defense shield would be great, but it isn’t nearly as useful for an army,” the ring had cautioned. “A force-wall, or a long-range attack spell would be better, but again, you don’t really have enough time to hope they’ll manage to reflex cast those either.”

  “Then what should they spend their time on?” Will had asked, feeling somewhat frustrated.

  “You’ve already started them on it. Have them focus on increasing the number of spells they can keep prepared in advance.”

  “Half of them can’t even manage one, and only a handful can manage two,” Will informed his grandfather despairingly.

  The ring grunted, then went on, “That’s not too bad—these days. In the time you have, you can reasonably expect to get most of them to two, and a few of them will probably surprise you and manage three. In any case, focus on defensive and utility spells. They have elementals, after all. With those, all manner of attack and defense options become possible with little training required.” The old man’s voice held a faint tone of disgust, one which Will had gradually come to agree with. “The most important thing is that they memorize the spells you give them. That way, no matter what happens, they can always produce the spell needed, even if it takes a minute. Blasting the enemy with rocks, fire, or wind—that’s one thing—but when you need them to provide a defensive wall, or produce rapid earthworks, that’s another entirely.”

  Will nodded. “I added the grave-digging spell to their list.” Then something else occurred to him. Something he had forgotten in the midst of all the stress and preparations. “By the way, something weird happened during the first meeting I had with them a few weeks ago.”

  “The fact that more people don’t fall down laughing the minute they see your face is a daily miracle. I’d think you’d be used to it by now,” said Arrogan drolly.

  Will passed over the remark; it was part and parcel with any conversation with his grandfather. “I was having trouble making myself heard, and I managed to project myself without using a spell,” he announced.

  “Wild magic, eh?”

  “Yeah. I just did it without thinking.”

  “You’ve used wild magic before.”

  He tried to organize his thoughts. “This was different. The first times involved healing, and it was deliberate. Then the stuff with my senses, Tailtiu taught me that. It wasn’t accidental. I had to make an effort. This just happened.”

  “Like passing gas?”

  Will snorted involuntarily. “I suppose you could say that. I knew what I needed, and it just sort of happened without me intending to do it.”

  “Remember our conversation a while back?” asked Arrogan. “About the differences between a third-order wizard and first or second?”

  “When you were talking about shifting turyn currents to deflect attacks?”

  “Mmhmm,” affirmed the old man.

  “Are you saying I’m going to shout down enemy spells?”

  There was a moment of silence in which Will could almost see his grandfather’s disembodied self face-palming. “No, you witless yob!” erupted the ring at last. “I’m just saying this is something similar, a side-effect of your increasing turyn control. You’re starting to find your natural affinities.”

  “Affinities.” Will turned the word over in his mind a few times while he waited for Arrogan to explain.

  “As a wizard, spells are your bread and butter. But as a third-order wizard, you are just beginning to grow into your mastery of turyn. Wild magic is often unpredictable—for ordinary magic users, but for you that doesn’t have to be the case. You’ve m
anaged to learn some through discipline and effort, but now you’ll find that there are probably some things that come to you instinctively. There never were that many third-order wizards at any given time, but they all had their peculiar gifts. Obviously, shouting your idiocy out for all the world to hear and marvel at is one of yours.”

  Will grinned at the insult, but he asked a question instead of complaining. “What was your gift?”

  “What makes you think there was only one?” challenged Arrogan.

  “Besides insulting people and pointing out their deficiencies,” he clarified.

  “I’m glad you noticed,” said Arrogan, laughing. “Over the years I developed quite a few. They crop up over time, as you mature and your mind changes. No one really understands why some people have one or gift or another, but they somehow relate to the peculiarities of the human mind. For myself, the most interesting talent I developed involved growing plants—oh, and body enhancements.”

  Plants? Will hadn’t expected that, but then he remembered the old man’s obsessive penchant for gardening. He wanted to ask more, but he had to know something else first. “Body enhancements? You mean like the way I can increase my stamina, speed, or strength?”

  “You’re a novice,” said the old man. “You’ve learned to do a bit, and that’s probably all you’ll manage unless you’re lucky or you develop the same talent.”

  That got his back up. “I can run for a long time!”

  “Please! I died, but my body didn’t quit until I gave it permission!”

  Will remembered all the training sessions, trying to keep up with his grandfather’s speed and dexterity. “That’s why I couldn’t keep up with you…”

  “And you likely never would have,” agreed the old man. “You’ll probably get a lot better at it, especially with practice, but I had a true knack for it.”