Battle Mage

by Peter Flannery

  Falco and Alex looked none the wiser.

  ‘Basically,’ said Bryna. ‘You work in groups of five or ten, each with a designated ‘point’. The idea is that the point chooses a target and the rest of the group then have to hit it at the same time.’

  ‘Sounds like a recipe for disaster,’ said Alex.

  ‘It is,’ replied Bryna. ‘We tried it the other day and I nearly shot Allyster’s ear off.’

  Falco and Alex laughed.

  ‘I’m not joking!’ said Bryna desperately. ‘There was blood and everything!’

  They walked into the tent beside the training field which was buzzing with a heightened sense of anticipation. A small group of cadets were gathered round Jarek at the far end of the arming tables.

  ‘I don’t envy the unit that he gets to command,’ muttered Alex as they prepared for the daily run up to the Pike. ‘He doesn’t listen to a word that anyone else says.’

  Falco glanced across at Jarek who appeared to be in a falsely jubilant mood. It seemed that he too was nervous.

  The eastern sky was just beginning to lighten as they set out for the Pike but Falco decided not to push it too hard this morning. He wanted to keep something in reserve for sparring. He was determined that today he would at least land a hit. But even taking it easy, the rest of the cadets were only half way through their breakfast as he got back to the tent. Sitting with Bryna and Alex, he ate his fill of bread, bacon and eggs before they made their way out of the tent to sit on the benches.

  ‘Today, at the midday break we’ll be announcing the commissions,’ said the emissary. ‘Until then,’ he added, raising his voice to be heard above the murmur of excitement, ‘we’re going to try something different.’

  On the nearby tables the assistants were laying out sets of heavily padded leather armour.

  ‘We’re going to try full speed, full contact sparring.’

  The cadets looked warily round at each other. The more confident ones seemed excited by the challenge while Falco resigned himself to another painful morning of punishment. The emissary picked up a set of shoulder guards and a helmet. It was similar to the armour they used for normal sparring only more extensive and more heavily padded.

  ‘The leather has been boiled to make it harder,’ said the emissary, rapping his knuckles on the rigid surface. ‘Also, the face of the helm is covered with this stiff mesh so that not even the point of a sword can get through.’

  He turned it round so that the cadets could see the fine dark mesh on the front of the helm then he motioned for one of the cadets to come forward and the assistants kitted him out from head to foot in the bulky leather armour.

  ‘In most combat schools this is simply known as heavy training armour,’ continued the emissary. ‘But here at the academy we refer to it as ‘the full bonnet’.’

  The cadets laughed and the young man at the front swung his arms, illustrating the fact that he could still move without restriction.

  ‘We’ll be using wooden swords for this exercise,’ said the emissary. ‘And don’t worry, the armour is well capable of protecting you.’ He illustrated the point by whacking the armoured cadet on the arm, seemingly without causing any harm.

  Each of the cadets was fitted with a suit of armour and they began to warm up, getting used to the way the armour affected their movements. Even though it was still cold Falco found that he was soon sweating. He removed his gauntlets and helmet as the first pairing was drawn in the usual way by picking names out of a sack.

  It was thrilling to watch these full speed bouts where nothing was held back. They were quite different from the normal sparring of controlled engagement. The watching cadets winced as the two current fighters beat seven bells out of each other. Even with the protection of the full bonnet there were still a number of nasty bruises and bleeding noses as the sweaty combatants removed their helmets to retake their seats.

  Falco found his heart beating faster. The names in the sack were getting fewer and still his name had not been called. Bryna sat beside him, her rich auburn hair matted to her sweaty face and the fierce light of competition in her eyes. She had just done herself proud against a much larger opponent.

  ‘Falco Danté,’ said Lanista Deloix, holding up the small plaque of wood bearing Falco’s name. ‘And Jarek Snidesson.’

  A distinct muttering rose up from the cadets. This was the first time these two had been drawn against each other. Many of them laughed and several patted Jarek on his armoured shoulder as he donned his helmet and made his way to the front of the group.

  ‘Kick his ass,’ whispered Alex as Falco settled the padded helmet onto his head. He pulled on his gauntlets, armed his shield and picked up the weighted wooden training sword.

  Bryna gave Falco a smile and a determined nod. As he walked out to face Jarek she was suddenly struck by how tall he appeared. Gone was the stoop shouldered weakling from Caer Dour, here was a cadet from the Academy of War.

  If Falco was simply hoping to score a hit, it was immediately clear to everyone that Jarek saw this as a grudge match. As soon as the instructors gave the command to fight he surged forward with a shield charge that sent Falco reeling backwards. He followed it up with a series of full force blows aimed at Falco’s head and neck. Falco managed to block them all, and even tried for an attack on Jarek’s leading leg, before Jarek caught him with a low attack that slammed into the back of his thigh. Falco cursed himself for letting Jarek get under his guard and shook his leg to ease the smarting pain. The full bonnet might protect against injury but a blow like that was still sore.

  Jarek drew back as the instructors called out the hit and the two of them came back to guard.

  The bouts were decided on the best of five hits and Jarek seemed determined to end it quickly. However, when he came in hard with his next attack Falco was ready for him. He sidestepped smoothly and Jarek was forced to twist in a most ungainly way to avoid Falco scoring a hit on his back. He spun round with a vicious backhanded blow that glanced off the rim of Falco’s shield and missed his head by a whisker.

  ‘Ooooh!’ cried the watching cadets as Jarek regained his balance.

  Falco then launched a series of his own attacks but Jarek blocked them with ease before dropping into a low crouch and lunging beneath Falco’s shield.

  ‘Hit!’ cried Lanista Magnus as the hard thrust slid off Falco’s breastplate and dug into the bone of his hip. Ignoring the pain he dropped into a defensive stance.

  On the command Jarek tried a low feint before attacking over the top of Falco’s shield. However, instead of moving away Falco stepped in close, engaged Jarek’s blade with an overhand parry and stabbed down into his chest.

  ‘Hit!’ cried Lanista Magnus.

  The watching cadets gave a collective gasp of surprise and Alex erupted with an explosive, ‘Yes!’

  Even though his face was covered, everyone could see that Jarek was fuming. His head had dropped and his shoulders were hunched, not in a submissive way, but in a way that spoke of vengeance.

  On the command to fight he came in fast. Falco lifted a leg to avoid a low blow then switched his shield from right to left to block two rapid attacks. He read Jarek’s first feint and his second and gave ground before two more vicious swipes. Falco now seemed able to anticipate his attacks and Jarek was getting more and more frustrated.

  Once again he turned Jarek and almost scored a hit but then Jarek spun round wildly. Falco ducked beneath the sword but the rim of Jarek’s shield slammed into the side of his head, knocking his helmet clean off. The attack sent Falco to his knees. From the corner of his eye he saw Lanista Magnus starting forward, arms raised to stop the fight, but he was too late. Jarek’s sword was already swinging towards Falco’s unprotected head and it was clear to everyone that his skull was about to be split in two. There was no time for him to raise his sword, no time to block the attack with his shield. But that did not mean that there was no time to stop it.

  Faster than a man can blink Falco foc
ussed the energy in his mind. There was a noise like a sudden crack of thunder and Jarek’s sword exploded into a cloud of wooden fragments. They drifted around Falco’s head and shoulders while Jarek staggered back in shock. Almost in a panic he ripped off his own helmet, staring down at Falco as if he were some kind of monster. But he was not a monster. He was a battle mage and his power was finally coming to life.

  The cadets looked on aghast and even the instructors seemed shocked.

  Only the emissary seemed unaffected as he stepped between Falco and Jarek. He put a hand on Jarek’s arm and looked into his face to make sure he was unhurt but Jarek shook off his hand and stumbled away.

  The emissary turned to look down at Falco.

  ‘It’s all right,’ he said, reaching out a hand to help him up. ‘No one’s been hurt. Everything is all right.’

  Falco was visibly shaking as he slowly got to his feet. There was disbelief and fear in his bright green eyes.

  ‘I only stopped it,’ he said. ‘I only meant to stop it.’

  ‘And you did,’ said the emissary. He could see the tears forming in Falco’s eyes and he had a sudden intuition as to what was troubling him.

  ‘I won’t become like my father,’ said Falco in a low voice. ‘I won’t become a killer.’

  The emissary put a hand on his shoulder.

  ‘I know you won’t,’ he said, even though he was in no position to offer such assurance.

  Falco let out a shuddering breath as Bryna and Alex appeared beside him.

  ‘Is he all right?’

  ‘He’s fine,’ said the emissary giving Falco a reassuring smile. ‘Aurelian’s been waiting for something like this to happen. Come on,’ he said, leading them towards the tent. ‘we’ll get something to eat and then it’ll be time to announce the commissions.’

  Bryna and Alex escorted Falco into the tent while the emissary went to speak with the instructors. They sat him down on a bench and helped him out of the stiff leather armour.

  ‘Thanks,’ said Falco as Bryna handed him a cup of water. Sipping the cold clear water he glanced across to where the other cadets were gathered at the far side of the tent. They were talking in low voices and shooting nervous looks in Falco’s direction.

  ‘They’re frightened,’ said Falco.

  Bryna just nodded and Alex too seemed more than a little nervous but then he smiled.

  ‘I swear Jarek nearly shat himself,’ he said and the tension dissipated as the three of them laughed.

  As they watched, Owen, Allyster and several of the other Valentian cadets broke away from the group and made their way over to where Falco was sitting. For a moment they stood in an awkward huddle.

  ‘We knew you’d do it,’ said Owen at last. ‘Ever since the battle in the mountains... We knew you’d do it.’

  Falco felt a quick surge of emotion and gave them a shy nod of thanks.

  ‘That was a good hit,’ said Allyster, as they began to move away. ‘Over the top of Jarek’s shield.’

  Falco smiled and presently they were left alone once more.

  Food was served for the midday break, but although Falco was ravenous he did not feel like eating. He had just stopped something from hitting him with nothing more than the power of his mind. For the first time since the training began he could not wait to get up to the crucible and talk to Aurelian. People were still shooting furtive looks in his direction and he was relieved when Lanistas Magnus and Deloix appeared, each with a scroll of parchment which they pinned to thick posts near the centre of the tent.

  There was a great surge as the cadets crowded round to see which military units they would be commanding for the next six months.

  Falco remained in his seat as the cadets pressed forward to read the commissions. After a few moments Alex pushed his way out of the press and made his way back to Falco.

  ‘Well? Did you get a company of infantry?’ asked Falco.

  Alex only nodded, his expression more serious than Falco had ever seen.

  ‘They gave me Die Verbannten,’ he said in a slightly stunned voice. ‘It means ‘The Exiles’,’ he added but still the name meant little to Falco. ‘It’s made up of Illician refugees from all the different Leagues, said Alex, sitting heavily beside Falco. ‘These are men who have lost everything.’

  Falco could see the sense of responsibility settling on his young shoulders like a cloak of lead. He suspected that it was not by chance that the instructors had given this particular company to a young man who greeted each day with a child-like twinkle in his eye.

  ‘What about him?’ asked Falco as Jarek moved away from the lists with a fist raised in triumph.

  ‘They gave him a company of Royal Hussars,’ said Alex in a distracted voice.

  ‘That sounds a bit unfair,’ said Falco. ‘Don’t see why he should be rewarded with a royal company.’

  ‘You don’t understand,’ said Alex. ‘Our cousin said they award the most difficult units to the most able commanders. The Royal Hussars are already trained. They would only give such a unit to a commander who is lacking in ability.’

  Falco nodded slowly. However, it was clear that Jarek was unaware of this convention. He was obviously delighted to be given command of such a high profile company of light cavalry.

  The approaching figure of Bryna drew their attention away from Jarek. She walked back to them wearing something of a confused expression. Behind her a number of the other cadets continued to look at her, laughing as if she were the object of a joke.

  ‘Who did you get?’ asked Falco as Bryna sat down at the table.

  ‘I don’t know, but everyone seems to think it’s hilarious,’ said Bryna, looking up at the cadets, several of whom were still laughing and glancing in her direction.

  ‘Does the unit have a name?’ asked Alex.

  ‘It just said, Bryna Godwin, Dalwhinnies,’ said Bryna and she scowled as Alex gaped at her in disbelief.

  ‘They’ve given you the Dalwhinnies!?’

  Bryna just nodded.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ asked Falco. ‘Who are the Dalwhinnies?’

  ‘It’s a company of archers from the Queen’s Irregulars,’ said Alex, clearly struggling to stop himself from laughing. ‘Imagine two hundred poachers, subordinates, deserters and thieves, all rolling drunk and spoiling for a fight.’

  Bryna had been given the task of transforming a mob of dysfunctional miscreants into an effective and disciplined fighting force but then her head tilted to one side as if something had just occurred to her.

  ‘I was trained by a poacher,’ she said and the two boys could only look at her and laugh.

  The excited discussions about who had been given what soon gave way to more sober questions of what they were expected to do in their new positions of command. The emissary explained that the new commissions would form the basis of a training army, a reduced version of a real army, allowing the cadets to work together, not only in their individual commands but also as part of a greater force.

  ‘As the winter clears you will be sent on a training campaign to another city,’ he told them. ‘You’ll work on everything from military tactics to provisions and logistics, from battlefield triage to the setting up of a full field hospital.

  ‘You’ll learn about scouting, communications, map reading, marching rates and strategic deployment, even political etiquette and the management of refugees.’ The emissary smiled at their daunted expressions. ‘What? Did you think we’d spend the whole year teaching you how to swing a sword?’

  As the cadets slowly came to terms with their new positions of responsibility, Falco slipped quietly out of the tent and up towards the crucible. He was desperate to talk to someone who could understand what he had just done, but he was also incredibly nervous. When he reached the rim of the great arena he found Aurelian, Dusaule, Meredith and Dwimervane waiting for him. Feeling deeply self-conscious he made his way down towards them. It was clear they had heard the news of what he had achieved.

  Dwimer
vane and Dusaule sat in their usual place, a little way up the side, while Meredith rose to his seat to join Falco on the sandy floor. Aurelian started forward and, feeling a deep sense of trepidation, Falco crossed the floor to meet him. For a moment the maimed old battle mage just looked at him and Falco felt certain he was in for a scolding but then Aurelian stepped forward, put his large hand round the back of Falco’s neck and pulled him into a rough embrace.

  Tenderness was the last thing Falco expected to feel from the foul mouthed old battle mage, but tenderness there was.

  ‘Don’t worry, lad,’ said Aurelian in a low gravelly voice. ‘A sword is just a sword. It’s how we choose to use it that counts.’

  Falco felt a tightness in his throat. He had wondered how he was going to explain what he felt - the fear of knowing he possessed a power that could kill. But there was no need. Aurelian knew. Just like every battle mage that had ever gone before... he knew.

  ‘Now,’ said Aurelian, slapping Falco so hard round the side of his head that sparks of light danced in his vision. ‘Show me what you can do.’

  Aurelian drew back and Meredith came forward, ready to sense just what it was that Falco had learned.

  ‘I’m not sure I can do it again,’ said Falco as Aurelian stooped to pick up a handful of gritty sand. ‘It just kind of...’

  He had no time to finish the sentence as Aurelian hurled the handful of sharp grit at his face. Falco flinched in anticipation of the stinging spray but at the same time he decided, ‘no’. The small fragments of stone ignited in tiny flares as they struck an invisible barrier that sprang up just inches from his body. A mist of dust filled the air before falling slowly to the ground.

  ‘Hah!’ exclaimed Aurelian. ‘At last!’

  Aurelian looked delighted; Meredith looked stunned, while up on the steps Nicolas Dusaule looked down on Falco with the hint of a sad smile.