“What about them?”
“I done been watchin’ you, son, and I ain’t seen you even touch the gall-durn things in days. You ain’t practiced with ‘em once since yer fight with the dag-blamed bandham.”
“I know,” Justan said. “You’re right. I need to work with them.”
“Then why don’t you?”
“I . . . don’t know what to do with them, Lenny,” he confessed. The swords sat in their sheathes on his back all day, but he avoided touching them.
“They’re dag-gum swords. You know what to do with ‘em,” Lenny said. “They’re gall-durn awkward, but that was yer design I used.”
“No, it’s not that. I mean, I definitely need to practice fighting with them. I have been planning out swordforms to use them most effectively, but . . . It’s their powers,” Justan said with a wince. It was embarrassing to admit. “The left one sucks my emotions away, which is taking some getting used to, and the right one . . .”
“What’s the problem with your swords?” Bettie asked, just rejoining them.
“The right one is still full of the energy, it absorbed from Qyxal’s pain,” Justan said. “It’s just sitting there begging to be used.”
“Wait a dag-burned minute,” Lenny said. “You never done told me ‘bout this. What does yer right sword do?”
Justan sighed. “The right sword gathers and stores the emotions that the left one takes in. Then it somehow converts the emotions into an energy that can be released. I only used it once. It was when I was fighting Kenn. It caused the explosion that shattered him.”
“I’ll be dag-gummed,” Lenny said. “All that time makin’ the gall-durn things and I never knew. So right now yer right sword is-.”
“Full of Qyxal’s pain, shouting to be released. I feel it every time I touch it.”
“That’s a tough one,” Lenny said with a frown.
“If it burns you that much, why don’t you just get rid of it?” Bettie suggested. “Just take that energy and blast a rock with it or something,”
“Because it’s Qyxal!” Justan said. “The pain of his death is in that sword. To just use that pain without a purpose seems like it would be . . . wasting his final moments.”
Lenny places a hand on Justan’s arm. “I’m sorry, son. That’s a crab-kicker. I can’t say as I know how to handle that one.”
“I’ll tell you what to do. You deal with it!” Bettie snapped. “If you’re so determined to take responsibility for the elf’s death, then stop being such a gall-durn baby about it. If you don’t want to use the elf’s pain, then learn to live with the fact that it’s there. Don’t hamstring yourself and maybe hurt your ability to protect your bonded. A real man isn’t afraid to use his sword!”
“I-I . . .” Justan stammered. When she said it that way, it made him seem incredibly juvenile. “I hadn’t thought about it like that. You’re right. I can’t avoid it. I just need to learn to handle it.”
“Actually, you might be able to do better than that,” Lenny said, his brow furrowed in thought. “Them swords are special. They’re namin’ swords. They don’t act like reg’lar magic swords.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, son, let me tell you somethin’ ‘bout enchantin’ weapons,” Lenny said. “When yer shapin’ the weapon, you got to keep in mind what you want it to do. That way yer tellin’ it what to be from the start. Now the raw elemental magic’s already inside it. It’s different with every chunk of magic ore, dependin’ on what kind of magic the wizard put into it.”
Bettie rolled her eyes. “This is why it takes your apprentices so long to figure out how to make things right. What he’s trying to say, Edge, is that before you start making the weapon, you need to find out what kind of magic is in the metal. That way you can decide what you can get the weapon to do.”
“Dag-blast it, woman! That’s ‘zactly what I gall-durn said!”
Justan nodded. “It’s okay, Bettie. I’ve been around him a long time. I speak Lenny.”
The half-orc shrugged. “Sorry then. I used to have to explain everything he said to Benjo.”
Lenny fumed a moment longer, then continued, “Anyways, there’s only so many options dependin’ on the metal.”
“So it’s like working a spell. If there’s fire magic in the metal, you can make it into a hammer that sets your enemies on fire,” Justan said.
“Like Bertha, that’s right. But once you finish the weapon and you’ve shaped the magic with yer runes, the magic is set. It ain’t changin’ after that,” Lenny said. “What I’m gettin’ around to sayin’ is that most magic weapons act the same way every time. Buster always hits twice as hard as I swing, whether I swing fast or slow. Bertha’s going to heat things up to the same temperature every time.”
“I understand,” Justan replied. “But how is that supposed to help me?”
“It’s not,” Bettie said with a glare. “Thanks for wasting our time, you stupid dag-gum dwarf!”
“Would’ja let me friggin’ finish! Blast it Bettie, if you wasn’t a woman, I’d smash you right upside your dag-blamed head!”
She stormed up to him and bent over, glaring into his eyes. “Try it, dwarf! You couldn’t even reach my dag-gum face!”
“If you two want to start kissing now, I am more than happy to leave,” Justan said. They both turned their glares on him and Justan was sure that if eyes could burn, he would be a pile of ashes. He didn’t back down, but just stared back at them calmly. Their anger faded to embarrassment.
Bettie straightened and cleared her throat. “That can wait for later.”
Lenny looked down in shock and rubbed the back of his neck. “Can’t believe you just said that, girl.”
“Well everybody knows it!” She folded her arms and scowled. “No sense pretending otherwise. Coal’s been telling me so for weeks.”
“It’s been pretty obvious,” Justan said. “And I’m happy for both of you. Now that we have that out of the way, Lenny can you get to the point?”
“Er, right,” the dwarf said, his cheeks red. “What I was sayin’, dag-nab it, was that namin’ weapons are different. They’re bonded to you, so youc’n tell ‘em what you want ‘em to do.
“Fer instance, when I made yer friend Sir Hilt’s swords, I made ‘em with air magic. When he cut with his swords, it would cause a sharp blade of air to stick out past the edge. But I done heard that after he came back from the Bowl of Souls, he learnt to control what they did. He can make the blade of air longer or shorter, or even just make a big gall-durn gust of wind.”
“So I can learn to control their magic?” Justan asked in surprise.
“Dunno why not,” said Lenny. “Not quite sure how it’ll work, but then again yer swords was strange from the beginnin’. The magic in the metal came from them broken weapons we found in the giant’s cave. When I tested the magic, I was thinkin’ of makin’ one a fire sword and the other’n an ice sword, but when I put yer namin’ blades in, they pretty much runed themselves. Dunno how they ended up doin’ what they do. They don’t follow the usual rules.”
“Thanks, Lenny, I’ll think on that,” Justan said. He placed a hand on the dwarf’s shoulder. “Both of you were right. I’m going to head back to the campsite. I’ll talk with Master Coal about naming weapons during our lesson later.”
Lenny nodded and Justan left the dwarf and half-orc standing there, eyeing each other.
He walked back towards the campsite and thought on what they had said. The swords were part of his bond now. Preferably he needed to learn how to control them, and if not, he needed to at least get used to them.
Justan reached up and grasped the hilt of the left sword first. All his emotions slipped away until only his thoughts remained. It wasn’t an uncomfortable sensation at all. It was quite freeing. In truth, he had been avoiding using the sword for just that reason. He was afraid that he would start using it as a crutch, clutching the sword any time he felt anxiety. Justan refused to get out of it that easy.
He needed to feel the pain of his mistakes. Otherwise how would he figure out how to stop making them?
He let go of that sword and grabbed the hilt of the right one. He immediately felt its power buzzing in the back of his mind. It was eager to release Qyxal’s pain. It was an uncomfortable sensation, similar to the feeling of a full bladder. He ached to find a way to release all that energy.
He gripped the other sword again and the urgency faded. As long as he held both of them the sensation was manageable. When he really focused on it, the power in the second sword didn’t feel like pain. It was just pure energy. It was his knowledge of where the energy came from that made it uncomfortable.
Justan released both hilts as the camp came into view through the trees. The ground had been cleared and the warhorses’ saddles had been removed. A fire crackled and Justan sensed that Fist had left to go hunting with Deathclaw.
Master Coal sat cross legged on the ground not far from the campfire as had become his custom. It still struck Justan as odd to see a named wizard wearing simple pants and a work shirt sitting in the dirt. He didn’t look like a wizard at all, just a farmer. But then again, that was probably what he wanted.
“I hope you weren’t waiting too long, Master Coal,” Justan said.
“No, we just got the fire started before you arrived. Please, sit down.”
Justan joined him, sitting and crossing his legs with a grunt. He had never been a big fan of sitting on the ground, especially after a long day of riding. But Master Coal preferred it, so he bore with it, hoping his legs didn’t cramp up.
“So, Edge,” Coal began. “How did your practicing go today?”
He wasn’t talking about the archery. Since resuming their lessons, Master Coal had given Justan a list of things to work on while they traveled. Right now it was sharing information under stress. Transferring memories through the bond was complex work and had even become quite dangerous.
“I-I am doing better, sir,” he said. “It is still difficult at times. I have done as you asked and I think I have learned to keep my body in riding position as I work through the bond. It’s just that I become so engrossed in what I’m doing-.”
“And how many times did you fall off of Gwyrtha today?”
Justan winced. “Twice. But that was at the beginning of the day. I think I have it down much better now.”
“Good,” Coal nodded. “It is something that will come easier with practice, and eventually it will become second nature to you, but you need to learn quickly. What happens when you need to use the bond during battle? You can’t be falling over while you try to heal one of your bonded.”
“Yes, Master. I know,” Justan said.
“And Fist?”
“I have passed our lessons along to him. He has been practicing with Squirrel as he walks,” Justan said.
“And how is he doing?”
Justan’s shoulders slumped a little. Fist hadn’t even stumbled. “He does great. For some reason, the exercises come easy to him.”
Coal chuckled at his embarrassment. “Don’t let yourself get too discouraged, Edge. Each of us has areas we excel in and areas we find hard. You do most things better than any student I’ve taught.”
“I will try to take that to heart.”
“Good! So as usual, before we get started, I must ask you,” Coal leaned forward. “Do you have any questions for me?”
“Yes. It’s about naming weapons,” Justan said. He related the discussion he had with Lenny earlier. “Is he right? Do you know of a way I can learn to control the power of my swords?”
“Hmm,” Coal stroked his chin. “First of all, you need to stop thinking of them as just swords. They are bonded to you just as Fist or Gwyrtha or Deathclaw are. You need to communicate with them. Get to understand them.”
“Get to know my swords?”
“Yes,” The wizard nodded. “And it might not hurt to give them names of their own, so they’re easier to relate to. My naming dagger’s name is Jewel. She may not have the kind of special powers that yours do, but that rune on her blade makes her a part of me. Through our bond she is an extension of my body and mind. Jewel allows me to enact spells in ways I could not otherwise. But it took me a while to learn how to use her.
“In the beginning, I was like you. I didn’t know what to do with her, so I let her sit ignored on my belt. But my master took me aside and encouraged me to spend time communing with my dagger through the bond. He made me practice sending spells through her until I got it down.”
“I see. I will think on giving them names,” Justan thought of the hunger of his left sword and the impatience of his right sword. In a way they did have personalities of their own. “I suppose this is just another thing I have to practice.”
“And I am going to give you more. We don’t have much time before we reach the Mage School. You need to take advantage of every moment you have so that you will be ready to use your powers when the time comes,” Coal said.
“Yes, sir,” Justan said. The immense number of things he needed to work on was daunting.
“Now to start our lesson for this evening,” Coal said and climbed to his feet.
Samson walked over to join them, Gwyrtha by his side. The centaur had shrunk down from his usual size to that of a small pony, making his torso the size of an average man. It was the first time Justan had seen Samson do that on this journey. He had only seen him do it while walking around Coal’s keep.
“You ready, Coal?” Samson asked.
Justan stood. “Are we going for a ride somewhere?”
Ride! Gwyrtha agreed, as excited as ever even though they had been riding all day.
“No, but considering the subject matter of today’s lesson, I thought it would be better if they were with us.”
“What are we doing?” Justan asked, intrigued.
“Well, Edge, I think it’s about time you learned about rogue horses.”
Chapter Ten
Justan grinned in excitement.
“Samson has been pressing me to teach you this for quite a while, but I wanted to make sure you had more experience using the bond before bringing up these particular applications,” Coal said. “There are many ways you could end up hurting Gwyrtha or yourself if you are not careful.”
“What do you mean?” Justan asked. “What applications?”
“Manipulating body structure.”
When Justan didn’t immediately respond, Samson placed a hand over his face. “See, Coal? He has no idea.”
Coal raised his eyebrows. “Why surely you’ve noticed the way I’m able to change Samson’s size?”
Justan’s eyes widened in understanding.
“You were doing that? All this time I thought that was just a unique ability Samson had. ” He looked at Gwyrtha and she stared back at him quizzically. “So I can learn to do that? With Gwyrtha, I mean?”
“Yes or so Samson assures me,” the wizard said. “I have only ever been bonded to one rogue horse, but he says it is an ability that Stardeon built onto all of them.”
“Incredible.” Did you know? He asked Gwyrtha. She didn’t seem to understand the question so he pushed an explanation through the bond.
I can grow big like Samson? She asked in surprise.
“Why doesn’t Gwyrtha know about this?” he asked Master Coal.
Coal looked to Samson who scratched his head. “Well . . . Gwyrtha was one of the first of Stardeon’s successes, if not really his first successful template for the rest of us. She was not made with the mind to . . .” he winced. “Sorry, Gwyrtha.”
Gwyrtha cocked her head at him, not understanding the need for an apology.
“Let’s just say that she has become a lot smarter since bonding with you,” Samson said. “She didn’t understand a lot of things that Stardeon intended at the time.”
“Not many of the rogue horses were particularly smart,” Coal added. “I don’t think Stardeon thought intelligence was an important factor in what he was trying to bu
ild.”
“That’s because Stardeon had planed on being around to distribute them,” Samson said. “He would have been able to explain their uses to anyone.”
“I’m sorry,” Justan said. “I’m really not following you. What do you mean by distributing them?”
Samson scratched his head again and Coal stepped in. “Perhaps we should start from the beginning? It’s what I was planning to do before we were sidetracked.”
“Good.” Justan put his arm around Gwyrtha’s shaggy neck. “Please continue, Master.”
The War of Stardeon (The Bowl of Souls) Page 15
