by Drew Hayes
In spite of the fifty foot difference, I could still hear the ringing echo as Albert unsheathed The Blade of the Unlikely Champion. From the looks on the others’ faces, I doubted it had anything to do with my enhanced hearing either. There was something magical about that note, as if the sword wanted everyone nearby to know that it was out, and that they should beware.
The stacks of boards were the first objects that fell victim to Albert’s new weapon. He approached one tentatively, holding the sword away from his body like he was afraid it might suddenly light him on fire, which was actually a fair concern since he was testing for unexpected magical reactions. Lifting it all the way over his head, Albert brought the blade down in a deliberate arc that focused on precision rather than power. Whether it was the sword, the zombie strength, or a combination of the two, the steel slid easily through each plank in succession, tumbling off their perches into the dust below.
“That’s one sharp pig-sticker,” Bubba noted as Albert turned to another stack and repeated his trick.
“The Blade of the Unlikely Champion is more than just sharp,” Arch told him. “It’s damn near woven entirely out of magic. Makes it incredibly powerful, and just as finicky. Most weapons find wielders every couple of decades or so, but that one hasn’t left its scabbard for over a century.”
Another clattering filled the air as more wood fell to the ground. This time, instead of attacking another stack of boards, Albert turned his attention the panes of glass that had been hung in the air. Sticking the sword out, tilted on its side, he slowly moved it over until it made contact with the edge of the glass. If the clear material put up any resistance, we couldn’t see it, as the blade moved easily through the glass without causing so much as a single crack. The sheared off section fell into the dirt, breaking into several pieces as it did.
“Interesting,” Arch muttered, eyes fixed on the shards embedded in the dirt.
“Don’t be an ass, Arch. If you know something, then share it with the rest of the class,” Krystal demanded.
“My apologies. It’s just impressive, is all. The last Weapon Bearer to hold that sword would have shattered the glass as soon as it made contact.”
“Wait, so Albert’s a better swordsman than the last guy?” Neil asked.
“Not at all, or at least, not yet. The Blade of the Unlikely Champion responds to the soul of the person wielding it, and its capabilities change based on that. Its last owner was a temperamental man who preferred to solve situations with swift aggression. That made the blade’s destructive power shoot way up, to the point that simply touching it to most materials would cause them to crack and break.”
“You seem to know a lot about someone who lived over a century ago,” I said.
“I damn well ought to. I helped train him,” Arch replied.
A new ringing filled the arena, different than the sound of the sword being drawn and resulting from Albert easily chopping through one of the metal pipes that had been set up for him. With each broken object, his confidence was growing. Already, he held the blade with far more certainty and comfort. Arch was clearly right; it had taken little effort to acclimate to wielding a weapon of destiny. And, best of all, no unexpected reactions had occurred so far. If Albert could make it through his battle with the chimera, he would be home free, and we’d all be able to leave.
The last of the obstacles were taken down quickly, as the speed of Albert’s strikes increased. Though he was growing faster, he seemed to be losing nothing in the way of precision. It made me wonder if he was even aware he was picking up speed, or if, to him, it all seemed as slow and controlled as it had with the first overhead blow.
“Weapon Bearer, the time has come for your final trial,” Arch announced. “Slay the chimera, put it out of its misery, and let us test the effect of your sword on creatures nearby.”
Albert gave a nod, visible even from where we were standing, and Arch turned toward one of the mages.
“Tell them to open the gate,” Arch ordered.
The mage made no reaction, but almost immediately, the squeaking of ancient hinges grated against our ears as the gate slowly began to rise.
“There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask,” I said. “How is this supposed to test the effect Albert and sword have on nearby creatures? Isn’t he just going to kill it with the first swing?”
“Chimeras don’t go down that easy,” Bubba told me. “Damn things can heal quicker than a therian. Even with a magic sword and zombie strength, it’s going to take him several blows to put it down for good.”
“If they heal that fast, then how did you take away its fangs and claws?” I asked, turning to Arch.
“Healing doesn’t replace what’s lost. That requires regeneration, and only certain chimeras have that. Specifically, ones with lizard spliced in.” The squeaking of the gate was getting louder, and I could hear the creature behind it snapping and stomping in excitement. “The one Albert is facing is a mix of panther, boar, and scorpion, so it shouldn’t have any kind of regenerative magic.”
“Well . . . if you’re sure,” I said, my hesitation apparent. It seemed like a big risk to take, but he was a professional, after all. Surely they had ways of detecting what sort of animals a chimera was composed of.
“I’m dead sure,” Arch assured me. The gate finally stopped squeaking when it reach its apex, and heavy footsteps thudded from within the shadows as the creature inside drew closer to the front. “And honestly, it’s not like it matters, anyway,” he continued.
“Why is th—” My words escaped me as the creature came into view. It was massive, easily as big as Richard in his lion form, and Richard was an alpha, the largest type of therian. It was sleek and black, with the large, feline head of a panther, though the pair of large tusks sticking out its mouth spoke to its boar genetics, as did the hooves on its feet. The scorpion aspect shone through in the chitinous armor along its back and the massive, stinger-tipped tail extending from its rear. The chimera let out a mighty roar, showing us the inside of its mouth—a mouth filled with rows of bright white, glistening sharp teeth.
“Because I was lying about it being harmless in the first place,” Arch said, graciously answering the question I’d been unable to finish.
8.
Arch had barely gotten his words out before the chimera charged, barreling toward Albert as it let out a series of sounds that were like a roar mixed with a grunt. My assistant was, thankfully, quick to adapt to the unexpected situation. He leapt out of the way in a motion more graceful than I’d have suspected Albert being capable of. In fact, I very much wondered if it was his zombie capabilities that let him dodge so well, or some sort of assistance from the sword. Either way, while I was watching Albert frantically scurry about, Neil was having a very different reaction to Arch’s announcement.
“You son of a bitch!” The young man, who, in all fairness, was similar to Arch in both appearance and stature, pulled back his right fist and took a swing at the agent. Arch’s reaction was so fast that even I had trouble following it. He easily moved his head out of range, grabbed Neil’s arm, and tossed the amateur mage over his shoulder, where he landed in a heap.
“I’ll let that slide due to circumstances, but if you attack an agent again, you need to be ready to kill or be killed.”
“Who says I’m not?” Neil spat, pulling himself up from the ground. Before he could get close enough to attack Arch again, Amy was standing between them. I don’t think any of us, even Krystal, could have made Neil back down the way Amy did. She said nothing, merely staring at her apprentice until he lowered his fists. The glowering stare refused to come off his face, however. Evidently, it was enough for Amy, as she turned to face Arch.
“What’s the meaning of this?” Despite her still shiny hair, Amy had an aura of dominance I’d rarely seen on her. I realized that, probably for the first time, I was seeing Amy Wells, master mage and alchemist, angry. Given what I knew about her intellect, and that an ancient dragon held
her skills in esteem, I found myself hoping that either Arch minded his tongue or the rest of us had time to clear the blast radius.
“He won’t get that’s sword’s full power out unless he’s in a life or death situation,” Arch replied, not a single trace of apology in his tone. If anything, he sounded vaguely annoyed by our reaction. “It’s nothing personal, just part of doing a thorough test.”
“You could have told him the truth; given him adequate time to prepare,” Amy said.
“With new Weapon Bearers, it’s more about intuition than practice or skill. The less prepared he was, the more likely he’d be able to use the sword.”
“Likely?” Neil said, eyes somehow narrowing even more than before. “As in, he might not be able to do it?”
“Weapons of destiny are smart, but not omnipotent. It wouldn’t be the first time a new wielder has gotten taken apart early on.”
Neil looked like he was going to try and charge Arch, Amy or no Amy, but a sound from inside the arena tore his attention away from the antagonizing agent. It was Albert, letting out a yelp that sounded as if he were in pain.
We all looked back into the arena to find Albert hobbling away from the chimera. Given the dark stains on the right leg of his jeans, along with the visible tears in the fabric, it looked like one of the tusks had managed to tear a chunk out of him during the charge. Albert was at no risk of dying from blood loss (you needed to separate the head from the body to bring down a zombie), but the wound was clearly slowing him down. If he didn’t take the offensive soon, it was only a matter of time before the chimera tore him into so many shreds even Neil wouldn’t be able to put him back together.
“I have to go help him.” Neil was staring into the arena with an expression unlike any I’d ever seen on him before. His eyes were wide, his hands clenched, and his jaw set. Neil was always a bit impulsive and quick to react with aggression, like his swing at Arch before. But this was different. This wasn’t Neil flying off half-cocked. This Neil looked like he was ready to go to war.
“Can’t allow that. Albert has to be tested on his own. Adding in another magic-wielder invalidates the test,” Arch replied.
“Then I won’t use magic!” Neil spun around, clearly torn about taking his eyes off Albert. “Without Amy nearby, I can’t use it anyway. That should preserve your precious test.”
“Even if you’re not wielding it, you exude the stuff. You’ve been training as a mage long enough to know that. You going in there changes the magical composition. End of story.”
While they bickered, I watched as Albert narrowly escaped another charge. This time, however, the stinger-tail managed to spear him in his lower back. He let out a muffled yelp and pulled away, losing a fair bit of flesh in the process. I was reasonably certain that zombies didn’t have to worry about venom, but when dealing with magic, nothing was ever cut and dry. I glanced back over to find that Neil had heard the cry and seen the blow. His face darkened as he turned to Arch with new resolve.
“I am exercising my right as the creator of that magical being to intervene for his safety. He is my creation, and I have the right to tend to him when injured, so long as he has not broken any laws. If you try to stop me, you’re in violation of the Mage Treaty, and I will spend the rest of my life bringing down every manner of bureaucratic hell I can find on top of you. And I don’t think you’re the kind of guy who likes dealing with red tape and sanctions.”
“Now that was a good threat,” Arch said, knocking some ash off his cigarette. “The only problem is that you aren’t really a mage, so you can’t exercise that right. You’ve still got your training collar on, which makes you a bound apprentice. Those don’t have the rights of mages, so I’m free and clear as far as the treaty goes.” He let out a long breath of smoke. “I might hate all that shit, but I’ve been around long enough to know the ins and outs of it. Better luck next time.”
Neil’s face fell as what he’d likely considered his trump card failed to faze Arch even the slightest bit. He turned to look back at Albert, who had just used The Blade of the Unlikely Champion to block a tusk that would have gored him through the stomach, and found Amy had moved around to meet his gaze.
“Apprentice,” she said, the purple glow in her eyes suddenly darkening. “This is a test of your master, and there will be consequences for failure. No matter what you think you should say, you will answer my question honestly. Why do you wish to save your creation? Why are you set on keeping Albert safe?”
“I’m supposed to protect . . .” Neil’s first burst of words fell away as his face grew calmer. “He needs . . .” Neil stopped again, and a small vein bulged near the top of his forehead. The young man took a long, deep breath, then looked his teacher, his master, dead in her temporarily oddly-colored eyes.
“Because I need Albert. As much as I pretend I’m the one looking after him, the truth is that I was lost when he was gone. He’s the one who props me up, who lets me feel okay enough with who I am to still function. I know mages are supposed to be bastions of internal strength, that’s how we wield the arcane forces of the world, but the honest truth is that I’m not strong enough to lose him. I wasn’t then, and I’m not now. He’s my best friend. He’s all I’ve got.”
“You’re wrong on several accounts, Apprentice,” Amy said. “Internal strength does not come from existing without weakness. It comes from facing our weaknesses head on, by admitting they exist and refusing to let them rule us.” She paused for a moment, a slight smile breaking through her serious expression. “And, more importantly, you are wrong about being alone save for Albert. You have much more than him. You have many people who care for you in this world.”
Neil gave a small nod, but said nothing.
“Still, I don’t think that’s any reason to let one of them slip away.” Amy reached into her coat and produced the small stone I’d seen her digging around for earlier. She whispered some words that I couldn’t understand, but that made me shiver all the same. The stone began to glow. With exceptional care, she touched it to the front of Neil’s collar, which immediately parted at a previously invisible seam and fell to the floor.
“Congratulations, Journeyman,” Amy said, putting the rock back in her pocket. “Though you still have much study under my tutelage left ahead, you are now a true mage, and entitled to the rights provided to all of our kind.” She turned to face Arch, all kindness flowing off her face like rain through a gutter. “I assume there’s no problem anymore?”
“There’s a hell of a problem, actually,” Arch shot back. “Are you fucking nuts? Do you realize what you’re saddling that kid with if you let him go down there?”
“His presence in the trial means that, for all intents and purposes, he is bonded to Albert so long as Albert wields The Blade of the Unlikely Champion. Because their magics were tested together, they are required to be together for the duration of Albert’s tenure as a Weapon Bearer. Yes, Agent, I am very aware of what happens if my student enters the arena.” She turned to Neil. “Is any of that a problem for you?”
“Hell no.”
“Didn’t imagine it would be.”
“There’s still the—” Arch was cut off as Krystal stepped in front of him, the expression on her face leaving no question about whose side her allegiances fell on.
“Quit stalling. They outplayed you. Get over it. Now shut the fuck up and just watch.” She turned to Amy and Neil. “You should hurry, Albert’s getting slower.”
Neil glanced down and realized that Albert had sustained two more wounds while he was dealing with Arch and Amy. “Shit! I’ll never be able to run down there in time.”
“Neil, the first lesson any mage should know is this: we never bother with the meandering path when there’s an express lane open.” She pulled out the water bottle I’d seen her sprinkling powder into earlier. It had a slight blue tint to it now, though I had no idea what that signified. “This will let you take the direct route. Now hurry.”
“Thank you
,” Neil said, unscrewing the cap from the bottle. “For . . . for just everything. Thank you, Teacher.” With that, he knocked back the bottle and drained the entire contents in mere seconds. He dropped the water bottle to the ground, took off running, and leapt—
—directly over the edge, with a floor that was fifty feet below.
9.
Despite what even a cursory understanding of gravity would lead you to believe, Neil did not immediately plummet downward toward inevitable injury, if not death. Rather, he drifted down lazily, like a leaf swept off a tree heading toward the ground at its own leisurely pace. It was then that it all clicked into place for me: the water bottle, Amy’s odd behavior, her question to Neil, all of it.
“You knew this would happen.” I glanced over at her, just in time to see her knock back a small vial of orange liquid. When she lowered her head, her eyes had changed color to match the same hue as the liquid she’d just swallowed. “ When we were sitting on the cots, you already knew Albert would be in danger and Neil would have to jump in and save him.”
“Actually, I’ve known something like was coming since meeting Neil and Albert,” Amy replied. She walked to the edge and stared at her student’s slow descent—he was nearly halfway there. Neither Albert nor the chimera had noticed him yet, but that wouldn’t last much longer.
“How could you have possibly known a thing like that?”
“Because Albert shouldn’t exist,” Amy said, her voice a bit softer than before. “Raising a zombie takes tremendous magic, the sort that no one, not even a prodigy, could manage just by picking up a spellbook. The bond they share would account for some increase in power, but to pull back a soul as fully-functional as Albert’s would take a veteran necromancer with ages of experience. Thus, I was forced to conclude that some other magic property had given Neil’s ritual a bit of a nudge.”
