by DB King
He’s lying, Alec realized. But he sensed Archmage Diamondspear had lied to protect him. Why?
The looks of confusion on the faces around him gradually withered. While even Alec could see the holes in Diamondspear’s explanation, the Archmage held such a position of authority that people seemed inclined to accept whatever he said as fact. All except Master Abel, who chewed on the Archmage’s words as if they were a bitter root.
“So he is a Diamondspear,” Master Abel said, accepting the premise for the moment. “If that is the case, then where did he gain access to one of the Diamondspear grimoires in order to learn a fire spell?” The question was not an accusation, more one of curiosity, but it didn’t come out that way.
Alec was expecting the Archmage to react in fury, but he simply shrugged. “He must have read it before he became a ward to the temple,” the old man said.
“Before!? Uriel, I was here when that boy arrived in our care. He was barely a week old! You’re telling me a baby read and comprehended the words in one of your family’s thousand-year-old tomes?”
Archmage Diamondspear leaned over. “He cast the spell,” the man said, a note of warning entering his tone. “Therefore, he must have read a grimoire at some point, Abel. I’m not terribly interested in the how of it. Merely the result.” His voice dropped low enough that only Abel and Alec could hear. “And I’ll thank you to eschew my first name when we’re in company. I am Archmage Diamondspear, you understand?”
Master Abel looked as though he’d swallowed a rotten egg whole. “Yes, Archmage,” he said, dropping hastily into an unsteady bow. His bad leg swayed alarmingly beneath him for a moment, and Alec reached out to keep the man from falling if necessary. Master Abel waved him off, with a grumpy expression.
“We are setting off for my estate in Northmund tomorrow,” Archmage Diamondspear said, raising his voice and addressing the crowd. “Until then, I believe the events of the day have left us all hungry and in need of a good bed. I have heard many tales of the fine hospitality of the Archon Temple, and I would love to verify them tonight for myself.”
It was as clear a signal to disperse as the crowd would get. Monks shuffled back inside, shaking their heads with disbelief. Several of the servants came and clapped Alec on the back. It all felt surreal. Their congratulations meant little to him—Marcus’s safe return was far more important.
He made to move inside, when Archmage Diamondspear placed a hand on his shoulder. “Dine with me tonight,” the elderly man said, his grip firm and sure despite his advanced age. “We have much to discuss, young man.”
Alec watched the retreating forms of the monks as they filed their way back into the Temple. So many of these men had looked upon him with sympathy throughout his young life. In a few of them, like Master Abel, such feelings deepened into outright scorn. And now to be invited as a guest to their table, as an equal? It seemed almost beyond imagining.
Archmage Diamondspear felt his hesitance. “And I have a gift for you, as well,” the old man confided, the corners of his eyes crinkling with a smile. “A family heirloom. A magical item—one that would go well with the elven dagger you wear at your belt.” The Archmage’s eyes traveled to the item. “I’d be very interested to hear the story of how you came to possess such a weapon. Perhaps we could discuss it tonight?”
How could he possibly say no? “Yes, Archmage Diamondspear.”
“Call me Uriel,” he said kindly. “Only not when we’re addressing a crowd. Switching up titles only confuses people, and in a group of this many, a confused crowd is merely a single step away from becoming a mob.” He gave Alec a strange look. “Let that be the first lesson I’ve taught you, young man.”
With that, Archmage Diamondspear headed back into the Temple. Within the span of a few moments, only Alec and his group of foundlings remained outside of the walls. The boys crowded around him, jostling for space as if they all wanted to be the first to touch him after his adventure. But none of them could work up the nerve.
Finally, Mortimer spoke. “Did you really kill the hag?” the one-eyed boy asked.
“You did magic,” Thomas said. He spoke it like an incantation.
The seal broken, all the boys babbled at once. Their voices overlapped each other until they sounded like a crashing wave—one that threatened to wash over Alec, ripping his senses away.
Finally, he held up a hand for silence. “I’m not sure what I did,” he said, exhaustion settling into his bones. “I can tell you I didn’t kill the hag—Archmage Diamondspear did that. All I did was go into the Crypt after Marcus. That boy’s lucky to be alive.”
Marcus had gone inside with the monks to be examined by the healers. Strangely enough, none of them had bothered checking on Alec—it was as if they knew Archmage Diamondspear’s magic left him perfectly healthy and whole.
“Even that is brave enough,” Mortimer said. “I can’t believe you really went down into the Crypt after him, Alec. You’re a braver man than half the monks in the Archon Temple!”
“Don’t let them hear you say that,” another boy said with a guffaw. “They’ll have you whipped for insolence.”
A strange feeling crept over Alec. Feeling a surety enter him with every word, he squared his shoulders and spoke. “No, they won’t.”
The boys stared at him, confusion in their eyes.
“I can do magic,” he told them, only now fully believing it for himself. “I’m the nephew of the great Uriel Diamondspear. I’m someone important, lads. Which means that what I say goes—even with Master Abel.”
Their jaws dropped open. “What are you saying, Alec?” Mortimer asked.
“From now on, you won’t be treated like second-class citizens just because you’re orphans,” Alec said thickly. “Tonight I’m dining with Master Diamondspear. One word from him, and Matthias and Abel and the rest will never dare lay a finger on you again. You’ll eat just like the rest of the monks, sleep in beds just as nice as theirs. The days of you being treated like foundlings are over.”
Shy Thomas tugged at his sleeve. “You’ll stand up for us? We who have no family?”
For the second time that day, Alec’s heart nearly broke in half. “You’re my family,” he said, the beginnings of tears in his eyes. “All of you. I won’t let you be mistreated any longer. And if they do…”
He struck a fearsome pose, shocking the boys into silence. “I’ll burn ‘em with another spell!”
Laughter greeted his proclamation. Not just the kind of laughter one produces at a good, well-timed joke—the laughter of relief, of better days ahead. Alec promised himself that before he left the Archon Temple, he’d make things better for the foundlings. He’d make it part of his agreement with Archmage Diamondspear.
“You’ll have to come back and visit on occasion,” Mortimer said as the group reentered the Temple grounds. “Promise us you’ll write to us from the Academy, will you?”
Alec froze in his tracks. “Academy?”
The one-eyed boy stared at him as if he’d grown a second head. “Well, yes, Alec. You can do magic, right? Isn’t that where they teach people to harness it?”
The realization flooded him. Archmage Diamondspear would want to bring him to Northmund, of course, but there was little chance he’d stop there. In order to learn the ways of magic, Alec would have to attend a school. No, not just a school—the school. The Academy.
Where the elite of every house learned to read the grimoires. To cast magic. To become mages…
Not only do I get to dine with Uriel Diamondspear tonight, Alec thought, his head swimming, I get a magical family heirloom. And I’m going to be attending the Academy.
He’d never expected to find his Vocation so quickly. Truly, Alec couldn’t possibly have picked a better one.
He’d never been a pious boy, and even less so as a young man, but he knew he had someone to thank for this. It was the Archon who’d orchestrated this turn of events, of that much, Alec was sure.
Chapter 8
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br /> Once Alec had the rest of boys safely back in their dormitory, he heaved a sigh of relief. Deep in his heart, he knew they’d been safe from the moment Archmage Diamondspear cast that spell against the hag. Still, he felt better seeing them safely back to their rooms in the Archon Temple.
After the adventure he’d had out in the forest, his natural inclination would have been to sit down for a while and think about everything that had happened. His mind still swam with the vast implications of the day’s events. The thought that he had become the apprentice of the great Uriel Diamondspear still felt like something that had happened to someone else, not him.
Unfortunately, he had very little time to work out his feelings. Shortly after he arrived in his own quarters, washed off the hag’s blood, and fit himself into some new robes, one of the servants knocked at the door to his room.
He opened the door to find a tall, muscular man waiting for him. To his surprise, he found himself staring at the chef from that morning, the one who’d given him extra food to take into the forest. His dirty kitchen apron had been replaced with clean white robes, kept in storage for fancy visitors.
“Young master,” the man said with a swift bow, “dinner is about to be served in the great hall. Archmage Diamondspear requests your presence.”
Alec stared at the man, his face scrunched up in disbelief. “Surely you of all people know you don’t need to bow in my presence?” he managed.
A grin flashed across the man’s face. “News travels fast,” he said, holding open the door for Alec. “Had I known one of the Temple’s wards was secretly the nephew of the great Uriel Diamondspear, I might have given you extra food more often.”
Alec felt a grin stretching across his face. “No you wouldn’t have. You helped me out plenty. And if I’d known I was Archmage Diamondspear’s nephew, well… I don’t know what I’d have done differently!”
You’re not, a little voice inside his head whispered. You’re something else. But you’re damn sure not the bastard child of Uriel Diamondspear’s sister. What sense would that make?
He tucked the feeling away for now. Tonight was about his new life. He’d have plenty of time to ask Archmage Diamondspear about his parentage later.
Alec knew the way to the dining hall, yet the chef stubbornly insisted on leading him. The monks dined in separate quarters from the servants and foundlings, eschewing the cafeteria in favor of a smaller, more opulent hall. Alec had only seen it for himself once or twice, when asked to fetch Master Abel or Matthias for an errand during mealtimes.
Tonight, the dining hall was nearly empty. The monk’s tables were bare—all save for one, at which Archmage Uriel Diamondspear sat with an empty plate and a full goblet before him. His kindly face smiled as Alec entered.
“Very good,” the old man said, gesturing to the seat across from him. “Sit, Alec, sit. Would you like something to drink?”
“Water, thank you,” Alec said. Though reaching his majority meant that he now had the right to ask for wine, just like any of the servants, he preferred not to. He felt he needed to keep his head clear for this conversation, and alcohol would just muddy the waters.
The chef retreated—evidently, he was to be serving their dinner tonight—and just like that, Alec and Archmage Diamondspear were alone.
As soon as the door closed behind the chef, Archmage Diamondspear leaned over. “As I’m sure you’ve figured out by now,” he said, his eyes sparkling, “you are not truly a member of my family.”
Alec had known, of course. Yet strangely enough, the denial hurt all the same.
“I didn’t think so,” he said, using humor to mask his true feelings. It was a tactic he’d honed well under the monks’ tutelage. “We don’t have much of a family resemblance, Master Diamondspear.”
“I told you,” the man said with a chuckle. “You may call me Uriel.”
“Of course…” Alec said, still hesitating. “...Uriel.”
The man smiled and nodded. A door opened in the wall, and the chef appeared with another glass and a pitcher of water. “Dinner will be served shortly,” he assured them both, disappearing as quickly as he’d come.
“For the time being, that information stays between us,” Uriel explained once the man had gone. “It’s extremely important we keep up the fiction that you’re my nephew. Which means that, among other things, you’ll need one of these…”
He gestured at a sack leaning against the table. At first, Alec had dismissed it entirely as Archmage Diamondspear’s traveling bag. It turned out to be anything but. Uriel reached into the sack, pulling out what looked like a small silver baton. It gleamed in the candlelight, reminding him of the rudimentary toys the other boys used to play games and run relay races.
“This,” Uriel said with some ceremony, “is a Diamondspear. Each member of our house carries one on their person at all times. Though, as you can see, the name is something of a misnomer—it is not truly a spear at all. Few would dare correct a member of our family, however.” He gave a lopsided smile as he handed it across the table. “This one belongs to you now.”
It felt surprisingly heavy in Alec’s hand. The baton was even smaller than Tanuin’s dagger, barely reaching from the tip of his longest finger to the beginning of his wrist. Not a single blade could be seen on the device, which made it wholly unsuitable for combat. Alec found himself quite confused by the strange weapon—how was it supposed to function as a spear?
“I’m not sure what to do with this,” he confessed, looking Archmage Diamondspear in the eye. His thumb found an embossed groove on the side of the baton and rubbed it idly, wondering what its function could be. “Does it activate—”
The baton sprang to life beneath his thumb. It extended in the blink of an eye, going from the size of his hand to a good five feet in length between one heartbeat and the next. A blade extended from the narrow tip, knocking an empty cup to the side as it shot into the open air. The blade came to rest inches away from Archmage Diamondspear’s head, and Alec flinched.
“Perhaps I should have warned you before handing it to you,” Uriel said with a laugh. “Had you activated the weapon a few inches to your right, I might have had to spend most of the evening healing my eye.”
“I’m so sorry,” he said, staring at the weapon in his hand. “I didn’t know—”
“You couldn’t have,” Uriel agreed with a grin. “After all, I doubt you would have had the opportunity to see a Diamondspear in action before tonight. Every member of our clan carries one, enchanted to that particular member of the family. By activating it, you’ve bound it to you. No one else will be able to transform it from a baton to a spear, even if they fit their thumb to the groove. So the weapon can never be used against you.”
Alec stared at the Diamondspear with a newfound sense of awe. “Magic,” he whispered. “An enchantment.”
Uriel shrugged. “As it turns out, the lines in a man’s thumb are unique to that individual. Everyone’s are slightly different, which makes it easy to enchant a weapon to a particular man’s pattern. Or should I say woman’s.” A strange look passed over the Archmage’s face. “This Diamondspear belonged to my late sister, you see.”
Alec hadn’t known that. A flush rose to his cheeks. “I’m sorry,” he said. He seemed to be saying that a lot lately, and didn’t particularly like it.
Uriel’s shrug encompassed an entire era of heartache. “Nothing to be done about it now,” he said, his expression brightening. “For now, the Diamondspear will serve you as a dependable weapon. As the wielder grows in power, the weapon grows in power as well. Soon, young man, you will be able to do amazing things with this device.”
“Wow,” Alec said, pulling the spear back into its baton form. He wanted to test it out, of course, but the thought of accidentally hurting the Archmage, or shattering dinner plates, didn’t appeal to him in the least. “That’s amazing.”
Uriel nodded. “They’re very old weapons. Forged by Ixylmin, the God of Metal—who penned the
first of the Metal Grimoires. All the grimoires belonging to the Metal Element descended from that first book, which is a thing you would know if you’d been attending the Academy from the age you were supposed to.”
“Oh.” Alec felt sheepish, but he resolved to stop apologizing. “That’s not my fault.”
“Indeed it is not.” Uriel gave him a quick once-over. “Are you proficient at all with the spear, young man?
Alec paused, wondering how much he should tell Archmage Diamondspear. For the second time since he’d met the man, his hesitation was noticed. Uriel leaned in close, his eyes meeting the youth’s, and some spark passed between them. Diamondspear sat back in his chair and nodded.
“I see,” he said with a grunt. “You’ve taken a man’s life before.”
Alec swallowed hard. “Twice, actually. But neither was my fault.”
“Young man, if either had been your fault, you wouldn’t be sitting here.”
“Just then the door opened, and the chef emerged with a tray of steaming hot food. Alec’s stomach gave a very undignified rumble as he realized how long it had been since he’d last eaten. Uriel’s expression softened as the chef laid out rich portions of quail, rice with steaming vegetables, and spicy dumplings on their plates. Where had this food been during Alec’s time at the Archon Temple?
“Eat,” Uriel said. “We’ll speak of it later.”
Alec dug in. For the next few moments, the evening became a blur. He hadn’t realized just how hungry he was until the first bite passed his lips. Suddenly he felt ravenous. His stomach rumbled happily as he tucked away his meal, the pace of his eating slowing once the plate was about halfway empty. Uriel spent most of the time nibbling around the edges of his place, watching Alec with a strange look on his face.
“Go on,” Uriel said once Alec took a break to wash down some food with water. “The two instances?”
