by Unknown
Professor Halford Patton stood up from his balcony chair and clapped. “Well said, Slate. A death in battle is only as honorable as its necessity. I hope to have the honor of teaching you soon.”
Villifor heard enough. “Slate advances to the second courtyard and will receive personal training from me. Slate, I will come have a word with you. Everyone else is dismissed.”
Slate silently thanked Sana for her suggestion to use the balcony during the contest. He had to improvise once Magnus charged through his bluff, but the plan had worked. A moment later, Villifor joined him on the balcony. “I asked for an entertaining bout and you certainly provided that.”
“I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to train with you.”
“It seems to have worked out for you then, because I will train you. Your first lesson is that you put me in a difficult position by pitting Halford’s reputation against Magnus’ objections. In your situation, I would have played my cards the same way, but there will be consequences to your actions. You are now in my debt for the trouble you caused me.”
“And what does that entail?” Slate asked while trying to keep the apprehension out of his voice.
Villifor gazed across the courtyard for a while before answering. “You are in a unique position by being in all three guilds. All the headmasters have allegiance to King Darik, but the guilds are only linked through opportunity, whether that is political, tactical, or some other tenuous collaboration. In times of peace, this is enough, but I saw what happened at Pillar, Slate. Not the official explanation of an explosion in the mine but the aftermath of what really happened. Someone is attacking the innocent people of Malethya and the attacks are becoming more frequent. I’ve been searching for an explanation, but my sources of information are not as extensive as Sicarius. I need you to look for information within Sicarius and particularly from the Sicarius headmaster. If anyone knows who is behind these attacks, it’s the Sicarius headmaster.”
Brannon had mentioned the best lies were partial truths. Slate wasn’t sure if this was a moment of honesty or a carefully crafted half-truth, so he responded in kind. “I never believed the official explanation. The miners of Pillar were too careful and too experienced to cause an explosion of that magnitude. If there was a battle as you say, the townspeople didn’t own weapons or train in combat and would have been overrun. I will search for information in Sicarius that describes the destruction of Pillar and the responsible parties. Train me, find the attackers, and let’s put an end to this.”
Villifor looked him in the eye and extended his forearm to shake. “It’s a deal. Report to the second courtyard and I will supplement their teachings.” Slate left to change from his Bellator armor into his Ispirtu robes before walking across Ravinai.
The architecture of Ispirtu morphed while Slate waited at the security gate. Tommy stepped out to greet him. “Ho, Slate! How did things go at Bellator today? Learn any new tricks you can share with me?”
Slate saw Annarelle waiting in the front lawn and decided to forego any small talk. “Tricks? I have something more important…come with me.”
Tommy responded to this shift from their daily communication by following obediently. “Annarelle meet Tommy. Tommy…Annarelle.” Tommy looked rather uncomfortable in front of the fairer sex, but he held out his hand and managed to keep the social awkwardness to a minimum.
“Both of you view yourselves as weak wizards. Am I wrong?” Silence answered his question sufficiently. “In Ispirtu that relegates you to a life of subservience to the stronger wizards. No one will challenge this truth if you do not. Ispirtu places so much emphasis on magic that the more natural skillsets are neglected. This morning I saw a Bellator fighter run straight into an impending attack with complete disregard for his own safety. I have seen the Sicarius headmaster break into Brannon’s own home and leave unscathed. These people lack the spark but are as powerful as the wizards of Ispirtu. You can’t let these walls define you or who you can become. Are you up for the challenge?”
Annarelle didn’t hesitate. “I asked for your help, Slate, and I meant it.” Tommy nodded with steel in his eyes.
“Good. Here is your first task as a student of Sicarius, Annarelle.” Slate took a coin from his pocket. “Stratego is a simple game that is complex in application. It will teach you to be aware of your surroundings and of people at all times.” Slate explained the game of Stratego but didn’t mention that he still treaded lightly in the hallways of Ispirtu despite his own training. There was no point in shattering their fragile confidence in him. “Tommy, you are interested in Bellator. Many wizards are trained to depend on magic and that is their weakness. Your task is to incorporate magic with physical attacks. You may be weak in magic, but you will be the strongest fighter with magic at his disposal. Do you understand?”
Annarelle hugged Slate and snatched the coin. “Thank you. We’ll train every chance we get.” Tommy grabbed his forearm and then began discussing training schedules with Annarelle. Hopefully some training would help them survive this place.
Slate left for Brannon’s lesson, scaling the wall and climbing through the second-story window. Brannon began talking before he was three steps past the doorway. “Yesterday we had our first practical exercise in the use of magic. Lattimer, tell me what the class learned.”
Lattimer answered in a respectful and deferential tone that gave no hint of their family ties. “The best defense against magic is a quick offense. We cannot anticipate which spell will be cast against us, so it is important to strike before being struck.” He glanced toward Slate. “We also learned not to underestimate our opponents and that concentration must be maintained while casting a spell regardless of the situation.”
“These lessons can only be learned through practice. They must become innate responses before you are ready for battle. Line up and we’ll do it again.” The students formed lines too slowly for Brannon’s liking. “For fractal’s sake, do something quickly. You can’t cast a spell in a timely manner, but at least line up with some speed.” Brannon had the candles positioned and lit. The first person in line behind Lattimer was still arriving to the combatant’s position when Brannon ordered, “Begin!” The student wasted two precious seconds running to position and was rewarded with a fireball that dissipated inches from his face. “Too slow! Next combatants, begin!” Neither student was in position, but the student in Slate’s line managed to run and concentrate on the spell at the same time, sending a fireball toward the student in Lattimer’s line and winning the bout. Brannon continued the rapid rate of the bouts and lectured while they were ongoing. “You need to be able to do more than stand in one place casting spells while an arrow finds you during battle.”
Slate stole a glance at Lattimer, who was positioned across from him. The new method of starting the bouts meant more distance between himself and Lattimer, so he had no chance of repeating his strategy from yesterday. He wasn’t about to stand behind a shield and wait for a fireball to find him. “Begin!” Brannon commanded.
Slate raced forward knowing he couldn’t cover the distance to Lattimer quickly enough. …1 Lattimer sprinted toward the shield and maintained a look of concentration. …2 Slate rushed past his shield and dove in the air. He wasn’t even close to striking distance from Lattimer. His outstretched hands came down on the open flames of the candles. …3 No fireballs shot at him. Instead a rush of air hit him in the face, causing momentary disoriention.
“Stop!” Brannon ordered. “I ordered a fireball to be cast, not an air wave. Lattimer, you are disqualified from the competition and will report to Master Primean this evening.” He then rounded on Slate. “This may not have been a direct assault, but you still disobeyed a direct order from your headmaster. You will join Lattimer for a session with Primean.” Brannon then managed a smile. “Your approach was original, though, and within the spirit of the competition. You can leave via the window if you’d prefer.”
Slate climbed out the window to avoid the hallways as B
rannon continued lecturing. “A worthy opponent will not act predictably. You must read your opponent and anticipate the need to react.” Slate dropped to the Ispirtu lawn and could no longer hear Brannon’s lecture that Slate took as indirect praise. Today was shaping up to be a good day and it was still before lunch.
Slate had forgotten to mention the lunchtime meeting with Sana, Lucus and Ibson to Rainier. Thankfully, his early exit from class at Ispirtu provided enough time to catch Rainier at the apartment. Slate switched out of his Ispirtu robes and took to the rooftops, traversing the city and jumping onto the apartment balcony where he found Rainier preparing his disguise for their daily game of Stratego. He was dressed as a little old lady, complete with handbag and spectacles.
Slate laughed. “I’m afraid you wasted one of your better costumes today, Rainier. We’ll be heading to the infirmary to catch up with Lucus. Stratego will have to wait for another day…oh, and I gave away the medallion today. We’ve progressed past the point of needing a symbolic token to drive the competition.”
Rainier sighed at the waste of a good costume. “I’ll go change out of this disguise, and then we can go to the infirmary. I must admit, it will be nice to see Lucus again.”
“I’m afraid we don’t have time for you to change. See if you can fool Lucus!” Slate laughed and Rainier groaned. Wearing a disguise in a public place was one thing, but dressing like a woman while having lunch with a friend was something quite different.
After walking through Ravinai at a hurried pace that belied Rainier’s disguise, the infirmary came into view. The massive, sprawling complex was surrounded by immaculate grounds. Marble pillars framed the entryways and walking paths connected gardens for the use of the infirmed. Slate realized the scale of the complex would create an unanticipated problem. “How are we going to find Ibson?”
“Ibson was quite famous and well-respected. I don’t think we’ll have a problem.”
Inside the infirmary, they were greeted by a helpful wizard wearing white. “Welcome to the King’s Infirmary. We provide care for all of his majesty’s subjects through both herbal and magical techniques. How can I help you?”
“We are joining Ibson for lunch. He has been a patient for the last few months…”
“Of course, we all know Ibson well. If it weren’t for Brannon’s quick work in the arena, he wouldn’t still be with us. I’ll walk you to his room.”
Slate walked what seemed like an endless distance through a maze of shining tunnels and other wizards dressed in white. “Has Ibson’s condition improved?”
“It has stabilized. But I fear he won’t be the same person you remember.”
That response quieted Slate for the rest of the walk. Their guide pushed through doors labeled PSYCHIATRIC WARD and knocked on a door. Lucus answered and thanked the infirmary wizard for his time before hugging Slate. Ibson smiled coyly at Slate’s companion. Evidently, Rainier made for a fine looking elderly woman.
The inside of the room looked like one of the nicer inns of Ravinai, but closer inspection revealed padded walls, rounded corners, and furniture bolted to the floor. Lucus sat at a small square table and Ibson gazed through his window with garden view. Physically, he looked like the same man, but his gaze wandered and he made senseless rhymes while tapping his foot to some internal rhythm.
The sky is blue,
The flowers are pink,
People have joined me,
For food and drink.
Lucus gestured for Slate and Rainier to join them at the small table. “For a while after the accident, there was hope he would regain all of his faculties, but after some early improvements, his condition has stabilized. I continue to visit him, and as long as he appears happy to have my company, I shall continue to make the trip.”
“Ibson showed me great kindness and is still paying the price,” Slate said. “I don’t know how to repay him.”
“Ibson knew what he was doing. He saw something in you he considered worth the risk. You can repay him by reaching the potential he saw in you.” Lucus always had a way of easing Slate’s worries and challenging him at the same time. Before he could continue the conversation, Sana joined them.
“I apologize for my tardiness, Master Lucus. I was suffering through a morning with the nobility and they confuse conversation with sport.” Slate had never seen her dressed for a high society gathering. She was absolutely radiant, but apparently didn’t suit Ibson’s tastes.
Beautiful girls still will age,
Until they do I’ll remain at bay,
Your taste is yours so please allow,
If I wait until they are colored grey.
Ibson winked at Rainier and reached to massage his shoulders before Rainier swatted his hand away with his purse. Ibson managed to retrieve his hand before it could be smashed and produced a decidedly childlike giggle from the old man and widespread laughter around the table, with the exception of Rainier.
Lucus brought the group back on topic as an infirmary attendant served lunch. “Ibson, in the past few months, I have investigated your attack, assuming it was linked to the events of the tournament. We learned Slate can feel magic directed toward him, but he has no spark. Due to the complexity of this investigation, I divided the efforts of our group. Sana researched literature in the archives, and Slate and Rainier gathered information from within the guilds. It is the purpose of this lunch to update you on the progress and formulate a plan. Slate and Rainier, would you go first?”
Slate thought his accomplishments seemed minor when asked to summarize them. “I have no solid evidence regarding the culprit from the tournament incident, Ibson’s assailant, or the Pillar attack. My contact with Brannon has been limited, but he recently enlisted me as his personal attendant and directed me to gather information on Villifor’s activities. Villifor has been travelling in secret and accelerating his advancement of students through the ranks of Bellator. No one knows where Villifor goes during his travels, but Rainier has been listening to reports from travelers as they enter Ravinai.”
Rainier picked up his cue to continue with the summary. “Travelers report that small villages are disappearing in the north, but I’ve found nothing similar to the carnage of Pillar. Merchants report having traveled to these villages to trade and upon arrival have found no signs of inhabitation. It is our estimation that Villifor’s travels are linked to the disappearance of these towns, but we do not know the manner in which he is linked.”
Slate picked up the story. “As of this morning, I won a contest in Bellator to advance to the second courtyard and will be training directly with Villifor. He directed me to gather information from Sicarius concerning the attacks. His implied expectation was that I would befriend the Sicarius headmaster, but my relationship with the Sicarius headmaster is far from intimate. My most recent conversation was duplicitous and confusing. I was chided for my judgment and thrown from a second story window while being praised for the advancement of my skills and rewarded with a Sicarius mask, a symbol and tool used by the Sicarius members of the Crimson Guard. In short, I believe any of the headmasters have the skill and tools at their disposal to coordinate these attacks, but I do not have the information necessary to implicate any of them. I’m hoping your investigation has proven more fruitful.”
So many fruit
Which one is ripe?
A bad apple you seek
Oranges, grapes, and tripe.
“Your knowledge is not tripe, Master Ibson, and I hope you don’t consider our investigations to be tripe either.” Lucus nodded respectfully toward Ibson and continued. “My efforts have centered on Ibson’s findings from the tournament investigation and the events leading up to his injury. Ibson reached a point in his investigation that caused concern for his personal safety. Few things would inspire such a strong reaction in Ibson. He was a master of defensive magic and held more shields in place than any wizard save for Brannon.”
Slate interrupted with a question. “Defensive magic? Brannon te
aches the wizards in Ispirtu that a quick attack is the best defense against magic.”
Lucus grimaced. “Defensive magic is a lost art. A wizard holds spells as shields that dissipate the effects of offensive spells. Ibson was one of the few masters of defensive magic left. He could hold multiple shields at any given time and they were flexible enough to defend against a number of offensive spells. This makes his attack even more troubling. If Ibson feared for his safety, he would hold his shields in place, but there were no signs of battle in the arena where Brannon found Ibson. The lack of struggle also makes me suspect the use of Blood Magic.”
The quiet room grew even quieter at the mention of the taboo subject. “I had difficulty finding reliable sources of information on the topic, but what I found is quite troubling. Blood Mages favored spells that affect an enemy’s internal components, like the iron in one’s blood. The spell couldn’t be detected by other wizards and the small changes produced profound effects, like the extreme fatigue experienced by Slate in his final tournament bout. Unfortunately, the changes to Slate’s hand and the stratego medallion tied to his arm couldn’t be explained by my findings. I am still searching for a clear piece of evidence.” Slate, sensing the story was still unfolding, remained quiet. “Upon receiving word of the attacks in Pillar, I investigated types of mental subjugation commonly employed by Blood Mages. These spells are more complex than moving iron around in someone’s veins, but they could be used to drive common villagers to attack with the frenzy observed in Pillar. I’m afraid I don’t have concrete evidence to implicate anyone, but Ibson’s fears of Blood Magic within the kingdom are gaining merit.” Lucus paused before offering a final fear. “If there is a Blood Mage with the capability of subjugating minds, it becomes even more paramount to gather information on the headmasters. The Blood Mage would undoubtedly target someone of influence and give orders through their subjugated minion rather than risk direct exposure.”
