“Well, you might see your rival again then,” Sylvaine suggested with a shrug.
The dark mage nodded. It was a race against his rival once more. He would have to consult the library of Ensolus to discover new magic to destroy Sebastian once and for all.
“Let’s hurry and fix the other gates,” Palose said calling up the next portal to leave the young rune warrior, who quietly watched them go.
**********************
For World Maps and More Go To:
https://www.facebook.com/BattleMageATaleOfAlus
Other books by Donald L. Wigboldy Jr.
From the Tales of Alus series:
The High King: A Tale of Alus
The Emperor’s Shadow War
Battle Mage: A Tale of Alus
Battle Mage: Winter’s Edge
Battle Mage: The Lost King
Battle Mage: Dragon Mage
Battle Mage: Dark Mage
Battle Mage: A Hero’s Welcome
Modern Tales:
Voran the Night Guardian
Standing Before Monsters
The Mermaid’s Chest
Where the story of Sebastian began:
Battle Mage: A Tale of Alus
Chapter 1- The Difference
The sun shone down upon the courtyard through a thin haze of fog still stubbornly sticking to the mid-morning air. Finches and sparrows chirped and sang from the nearby gardens or as they soared over the ten foot walls separating the Court of War from the neighboring gardens. White Hall and its accompanying towers loomed to the south of the long courtyard throwing shadows over much of the grounds below. The Tower of War was dark against the morning light and its shadow nearly touched the base of forty foot protective walls.
Above the sounds of the birds, multiple clangings could be heard as sword met shield or sword on sword. In the Court of War more than a dozen men worked at perfecting their art. Four pairs of grey shirted men exercised their skills against one another as four older men in black coached or quietly watched their students at play. A thirteenth young man, also of the grey, performed a dance with his blade.
Wind flowing up Hill moved to the Bear stands Alone. Iron Jacket met Thrush from the Thicket. Maneuver after maneuver followed as he pictured his invisible opponent moving to counter his own. Back and forth he fended and struck. Press an advantage then retreat as the momentum shifts. Protect and attack. Force and defend.
Dark blond hair began to drip with sweat. The grey shirt darkened. Tanned arms glistened and his palms tried to moisten and make his grip tenuous. A shift of the leather coated handle scraped away most of the moisture and stiffened the grip as he shifted back to the better hold once again. Tirelessly the young man fought his invincible foe. His breathing came through parted lips as lungs called for more air.
Two of the pairs picked up towels to dab at damp brows as the men in black gave comment on their performance. Chuckling heralded some comments. Frowns followed others. The men walked back in White Hall through the small door at the base of the Tower of War. The other men continued work as a new trio, one black and two greys followed much the same as those before.
The other pairs tired. One of the teachers called a halt as a sword caught a shirt slicing the material cleanly. The young man with the torn shirt hugged his opponent briefly knowing he owed his life to the other who had barely pulled his swing enough to avoid killing his friend. The students and teacher spoke as they walked towards the little door and commented on what had gone wrong. The sound of blades clanging continued and a new pair came into the courtyard followed by their watcher before the last of the early morning groups retreated inside to contemplate their performances.
The thirteenth man shook his head free of sweat as it threatened to drip into his eyes. The invisible opponent smiled and backed the young man off with an invisible thrust that only the two could see. The dance went on.
A door opened in the eastern wall. The sun had risen nearer to noon. The grey dripped and danced without seeing three men looking in from the doorway. Quiet laughter and talking wafted in with the singing of finches and chirps of sparrows. One dressed in a white robe trimmed with red points spoke and the others laughed again. The grey saw only his opponent and the dance goes on.
The three are joined by a fourth. His trim is also red like his freckled cheeks. He comments on the grey and is again greeted with laughter. Stepping further through the doorway, the freckled blond chants a short phrase and conjures with his hands briefly before thrusting his palms at the ground. Dust rolls quickly in a small ball straight for the young man in grey.
An explosion of dust jumped up nearly at the feet of the swordsman. The grey stumbled and spit dust. A hand wiped at the dirt stinging both eyes as laughter carried to a now attentive young man.
"Ha ha, Sebastian," the young wizard called jeeringly to the half blinded young man. "You call yourself a battle mage? What good is all this training if you can't see, boy?"
"Magnus, you jerk!" the boy in grey snapped and sheathed his weapon into plain, leather scabbard. "You just ruined my exercise. I hope that you're proud of yourself."
The man in white glanced to his friends with a smile and replied, "As a matter of fact, I am. You know something though, I just don't get why you so-called battle mages need such a nice courtyard to play in. I mean really, the real soldiers don't have these kinds of courts. They go outside or behind the kitchens or something, but here we real mages have to hear all your banging back here day after day and for what I ask you? This could be a pretty nice garden if we let some of our nature and earth mages in here. Sounds good actually." He turned to one of the others with a blue stripe instead of red. "Make a note, Linus. I think maybe Arrimus or Mishael might enjoy the challenge, don't you?"
"Like the founders would allow you to do such a thing, Magnus," Sebastian replied with a frown of annoyance. Both students knew that the young wizard was just making idle threats, but the comment still rankled.
The wizard shrugged, "Maybe not now, but one day they'll see that your kind aren't worth all this effort. After all, it's not like you're truly in a wizard's class. A real mage could shatter those little swords of yours and any wimpy magic that you can barely force up. By the gods, I just don't understand why we have to put up with you all.
"I say let's put you where you'll do some good. The infantry or maybe just the cooks. What do you have to say about that, Sebastian?"
With a look of calm that nearly dripped with ice, the man in grey answered firmly, "The history of the last eighty years would prove you wrong. It was the battle mages and soldiers protecting you wizards that even let you survive long enough to use your fancy magic. We have our own. It’s quick, effective, and has killed a lot of the Dark One's creatures over the years."
"Bah, that's only partially true and besides any real soldier can say that much. Bring on a horde of kiriaks or armored viles and it’s the wizards that you'll be crying to save you all."
The other student battle mages and instructors had stopped and taken note of the conversation. Frowns ringed the group as they slowly formed up only a few paces behind Sebastian. The grey shook his head. "You regular wizards need us lowly battle mages and the soldiers as much as we need you. That's the whole point of White Hall, isn't it? This school isn't just filled with wizards or soldiers. We have a little of each type of soldier and wizard here so we can learn to appreciate each type and learn to work together."
"Oh, peace and love for everyone," Magnus clasped his hands, tilted his head and fluttered his eyes in a girlish manner as he sang out in falsetto. "Bah!" his voice dripped with scorn as he continued, "Save it for someone who can't see the truth. I would wager my magic can defeat anything you can ever muster, Sebastian. Shoot we don't even need soldiers to fight for us when we can create our own from thin air." The mage's hands came together like he was holding a two-handed sword and suddenly a flaming blade shimmered into being. "Come on, Sebastian. You've been practicing all morning. If you're an
y good, you'll prove me wrong."
"This is stupid, Magnus," the battle mage began, but was quickly interrupted as the wizard leapt towards him swinging the fire blade. His own weapon came up instinctively to catch the attack. The smell of burnt hairs on his arm and forehead made the young man's nose itch almost instantly.
A second strike and Sebastian nearly dropped his sword as it threatened to burn his hands. The leather smoked from between his fingers. "Sword!" the word triggered thought and flame leapt up the blade even as the third stroke caught his blade with the force of a hammer.
Sebastian's weapon shook free of his fingers with the jarring impact. "Shield!" he cried out frantically. A shield shimmered around his left arm. The blue glimmer cast a chill towards the wizard who lashed out once again with his flaming sword. Only a few impacts and the shield began to tear even as Sebastian was rocked back again and again.
Suddenly a blast of wind caught the grey forcefully across the chest. The wizard, he noted now, had started chanting and used the sword with only one hand as the second now pointed to where his chest had just been.
Sneering down at the fallen student, Magnus frowned and shook his head, "Like I said, I can't figure it out. You may have something on regular soldiers, but it hardly seems worth the effort."
"Novitiate Magnus, desist!," a voice called from behind the assembled battle mages. "Anyone can win when he attacks an opponent by surprise. Such behavior is intolerable, however, and cowardly. I will have your teacher notified of your actions here today."
A strong looking man dressed from head to toe in black stepped forward and faced the young mage. There was a coldness in his eyes that could chill most men to their souls. Even an arrogant man like Magnus was forced to swallow a moment to regain his composure, but regain it he did and the attitude that flowed from it. "Falconi Garrett, how nice to see you too. Have I done something to warrant your attention this morning?"
"I would say so, boy," the demeaning name caused the wizard to flush even more red beneath the sunburn and freckles. "When you attack anyone in White Hall, whether wizard, mage or man, you become my problem or another's. This time it was my privilege. Now apologize and show you have at least a little honor, novitiate."
The wizard stood still a moment before looking down and saying, "I'm sorry that I beat you around and I'm also sorry that you aren't good enough to do anything about it, Sebastian."
"Magnus!," the falconi growled.
"I accept," the grey replied abruptly cutting off his elder. "Next time I won't let you get away with it either, Magnus."
A bit of surprise stole into the mage's eyes. A moment later, he answered, "We'll see." The wizard turned away followed by his followers who all shared much the same expression. The door closed and Sebastian busied himself with retrieving his sword and cleaning it before replacing it in its sheath.
The students and their teachers moved back to their areas and began again. A new trio stepped into the courtyard with raised eyebrows at the unusual activity of the courtyard. Eyes also strayed to the Falconi standing over the young battle mage.
"Why?"
Sebastian stood up again and asked, "Why what, sir?"
"I told him to apologize and he insulted you. You, however, accepted the insult when I would have demanded more from that arrogant little pup."
Shrugging indifference, the younger man replied, "He said nothing inaccurate. I should have been better ready for him. We all know what his kind can do. I didn't fight well. He won. I'll remember for next time though."
The older man chuckled though the sound didn't seem like amusement. The laughter never touched his eyes at least, "I suppose you will at that. Let me ask you something though. What will you do to win next time?"
The younger man shrugged. "I'll be ready for those tricks at least and expect that he'll try more."
The falconi nodded. The young man had a quiet intensity that he had seen only rarely in his years of fighting. He knew from experience that those tended to be some of the best. "I expect that he will. You're Sebastian, correct?"
The younger man nodded.
"I hope to see you in falcon brown one of these days, lad. Maybe then you can prove that hothead wrong about us."
For the origin of Darius the High Wizard try:
The Emperor’s Shadow War
Chapter 1- Dante
The smells of blood and death lay upon the plain. The orange light of a new day's sun added its color to the already crimson stained earth. The cries of crows and ravens broke the still air with their raucous calls of delight and the occasional squabble over a choice piece of meat. The fights ended quickly though. There was more than enough for even their great numbers, but the large ebony scavengers had their work cut out for them even still. Armor that had sought to protect the men of Certe in life resisted the strength of their beaks even though it had failed its responsibility so completely.
A sudden movement from the center of the dead startled the scavengers from their fare. The air turned dark as the flock lifted angrily from their meals. A groan from the final surviving defender was drowned out by the squawks of the brazen birds. The warrior fought his way weakly to his knees. A hand brushed absently at the blood blinding his vision. Looking back to the ground in front of him, the man found his broken sword.
The largest of the ravens swooped downwards to land before the man. It looked at him curiously. The man thought that he could see disbelief in the creature's eyes which mirrored that which he also felt. It squawked at him as if to ask him how it was that he still lived.
A croak through his raw throat was his ineffectual retort. The soldier coughed and the effort nearly threw him back onto his face in the gore. He spied an unopened canteen on a body nearby and reached out for it. Lifting the container to his mouth, the fallen warrior poured the liquid between his lips. The silver haired man rinsed out his mouth and spit it back out. The water had turned red before it even touched the blood stained earth.
Pouring the contents of the canteen back into his mouth, he forced his throat to swallow. Once started, the man couldn't stop until the vessel was drained.
The raven hadn't moved throughout the whole of his efforts.
The man stared at the creature in amazement. The thought of the scavenger drew him to look about him. The death surrounding him caused an unbidden gasp. He could tell that the hundreds of bodies mostly belonged to his comrades and allies. The army of King Druin lay about him in great unkempt piles.
He forced himself to remember how the losses could possibly have happened. The sight of a dark misshapen body sent waves of memory flowing harshly back into his consciousness. Tears of bitterness and failure came unbidden as he remembered it all.
Dante Betrice of the Certe Alliance Guard had come with his comrades when reports of the dark horde invading their lands had come to them. King Druin ruled in the south of the alliance and had sent the first battalion to meet the unknown intruders. General Batist had confidently led his men to the plain of Turo and there the army found that they faced the horror of creatures not born of their world.
The creatures consisting of two main types wore black armor strangely discolored by a crimson gloss. The smaller creatures all had dark green skin, a green that resembled that of an evergreen in winter. Small and quick they darted in and out and around the humans with their long knives. If a man wasn't careful, the beasts would take swipes at his legs going for the tendons in particular. He had seen many a soldier fall to the tactic and the creatures were quick to pounce in small groups to finish off their victim as well. If they didn't get the kill, their larger cousins would use their axes and clubs instead. With rough skin the color of oak bark, the creatures were nearly the height of a full grown man and had chests wider than a man's shoulder width. The larger beasts had formed a core through which their smaller cousins operated.
With power and speed, the dark warriors had quickly dismantled the entire command.
Dante had fought valiantly. Even as
the men around him fell, he had continued to hold his ground. Dark creatures could be found slain in the midst of the Certe Guardsmen, and some were the result of his work. Then the numbers had closed in on him. Their mass proved too strong for his blade and the shield he had carried was left in tatters.
This brought him back the question of his continued existence. "How can I be here?" he questioned the raven still before him.
Cocking its shiny black head at him curiously, the bird answered with a softer call. Dante looked at the creature before him in wonderment that it was still perched before him. Shaking his head slightly until he realized that the motion caused him dizziness, Dante then chose to try and stand. The raven retreated only slightly as it continued to watch.
The soldier chose to ignore the bird and turned to the task of finding a suitable sword and shield to replace those that he had lost. He also found a pair of animal skin canteens and a couple of travel packs of food. Dante began eating ravenously. He had been famished. The hunger was greater than any he could ever remember.
He tossed a few scraps towards the raven though there was more than enough left here to feed it. Its comrades had already started withdrawing now that even their great appetites had been sated. His own hunger was as well now from a less morbid version of dinner.
The task before him had to be a return to Castle Trea and to find out if any of the others had made it back to warn the king. Having eaten, the man found his strength returning quickly. Dante began picking his way through the masses of dead. It was a disheartening experience. He found many a friend lying broken and often picked over by the scavengers. The body of General Batist was found near the rear of the battle surrounded by his personal guard.
Dante shook his head. The man had refused to flee though his command was being torn apart before him. Dante considered such an act foolish. The General should have retreated to the castle to warn the king. There was nothing to be gained by losing such an important man. His pride had caused the superb soldier to die which was a shame since Batist had been a renowned strategist and tactician. In the face of such a loss, Dante guessed that he had been unwilling to admit defeat.
Battle Mage: Forging New Steel (Tales of Alus Book 9) Page 52
