LEGENDS: Fifteen Tales of Sword and Sorcery

by Colt, K. J.

  “Will I be taking this tea after every training session?” she asked.

  “I am afraid not. As a rule, it is best to recover naturally,” he said.

  “Then why have you given this to me now?” she asked.

  “Because I am a profoundly impatient man at times,” he said.

  “Impatient for what?” she asked.

  “Knowledge about you,” he said.

  “Why me?” she asked.

  “Simple. Your performance today. I have seen people who have had three years of training and were happy with what you have managed. You have had only three months! Such a natural predisposition toward magic is not unheard of, but it is extremely rare. We can only attest to having three here in our history, and only one that we witnessed. People with your uniqueness are still an enigma to us,” he said.

  “My performance today was awful. I failed,” she said.

  “You failed to affect the fire, perhaps, but you learned to sense essence and you began to manipulate your own. Those two skills are the sole benefits of our beginner’s training, which normally takes five years! You’ve nearly completed them on your first day!” he said.

  “Then why would . . .” Myranda began as she turned back to the strange sight before her. Suddenly, she remembered what was occupying her mind before he appeared. “What is that? And why did Myn vanish?”

  “Oh. That is the crystal arena. To my knowledge, it is absolutely unique in the world. We found the single largest deposit of focus stone in existence when we came here, and in the years that followed, we crafted this. Within it, magic is effortless, concentration is unnecessary, and you will feel no draw on your own mana. Solomon uses it as a hunting ground. Our founder, Azriel, makes her home there. She conjures up a forest and Solomon hunts down--well, that,” he said, indicating three large bags of fish that were being carried to the arena by people in red tunics. Once placed within the arena, they too vanished.

  “Azriel transforms the fish into whatever prey Solomon would like and he hunts and eats his fill. I expect now Myn will receive the same treatment,” he said. “Now, if you don’t mind, Myranda. I have some questions for you.”

  “Ask,” she said, taking another sip from her tea.

  As the sun climbed in the sky, Deacon proceeded to ask Myranda to summarize her life, beginning with birth. As she spoke, he faithfully recorded the details. Before long, Myn emerged from the arena, clutching a fish in her mouth. She dropped it to the ground and sniffed it with confusion, as it had not been a fish when she was inside of the arena, but soon decided one meal was as good as another and presented it to Myranda in exchange for the usual reward. Myranda suggested that they take a break to cook the food, lest she seem ungrateful to the dragon, but Deacon merely snapped his fingers and the fish was instantly cooked to a turn.

  It was well into the morning before Deacon was satisfied with his answers.

  “Excellent, truly excellent. You should head off to bed. I have got to go over your life story and compare it to our notes on prodigies. Also, I will see to it that when you awaken you will have a crystal. Would you like it in an amulet as before, or in a staff? As a beginner, I would recommend the staff. It will give you something to lean on,” he said.

  “Whatever you think is best,” she said.

  “Excellent,” he repeated, as he walked eagerly off to his work.

  “Wait! Don’t you ever sleep?” she asked.

  “Not if I can avoid it. Tremendous waste of time,” he said.

  Myranda trudged wearily to the hut she had been provided with, dragon in tow. She pushed open the door and readied herself for bed. When she had climbed in, Myn joined her as always, but she did not go to sleep as she usually did. She had, after all, been sleeping most of the night while Myranda was busy with her training. For several minutes, she fidgeted and shifted restlessly. Finally, she took a long sniff at the air and jumped down from the bed and pushed open the window shutters.

  “What is wrong, little one?” Myranda asked.

  Myn took another long smell and looked longingly into the distance. It didn’t take long for Myranda to figure out what the creature wanted.

  “You want to spend some time with him,” Myranda said.

  Myn seemed to give a quite spirited answer to the affirmative. The little dragon had been quite affectionate to Leo when they were traveling together. It was only natural she would desire his company in this place.

  “He cannot be trusted, you know. He lied to me and did terrible things,” Myranda warned.

  The dragon was unswayed.

  “Go,” Myranda said.

  She had not even finished the syllable before Myn disappeared out the window and scampered off. Myranda pulled herself from the bed and closed the window. When she returned to the bed, she dropped quickly off into a dreamless sleep. Usually she would have been disappointed to be without dreams, but judging from the horrible nightmares she had been having, this was a blessing.

  Myranda’s eyes opened heavily to the fading rays of the sun as they flowed through the open window. Myn had managed to pull the shutters open and let herself in, or she had been helped. At any rate, she had nestled atop Myranda at some time during the day.

  The girl rose from bed and dressed. Fresh clothes were a welcome change to the life she had been living of late, though pulling on her worn boots was all too familiar. She briefly considered asking for something better, but so much had been done for her already, she decided against it.

  As she stepped outside and felt the cool dusk air, Myn jumped down and followed her. She closed the door and decided to have some breakfast just as soon as she could remember where the food was served. Deacon appeared and walked eagerly up to her as she wandered in what she believed was the correct direction. The young man’s face held the telltale signs of a sleepless night, but he seemed none the worse for wear. Indeed, he seemed to be just as excited as he had been the night before, if not more so.

  “Good evening, good evening. I trust you slept well,” he said.

  “Indeed, I did. Did you sleep at all?” she asked.

  “Heavens no! Too much to do. Sleep can wait. Come this way. I have something for you to do,” he said.

  “I was actually looking forward to breakfast,” she said.

  “Breakfast? Oh, of course. I suppose I had better eat as well, lest I forget again,” he said.

  The pair took a meal with Myn more than a little distracted by the constant flow of words from Deacon’s mouth. He scarcely took a moment to swallow, so eager was he to speak.

  “I compared what you told me about yourself to the records we have of the others. The prodigies. It seems clear that there is most certainly a familial influence. Your parents were each uncommonly intelligent. Likely, had they tried their hands at magic, they would have excelled as well. I must say, though, in reviewing your story, I found a few points puzzling. You say just before you entered this place, you discovered that Leo was not what you had thought him to be,” he said, taking advantage of her answer to slurp a few hasty spoonfuls of the stew.

  “Yes. I recognized his voice as the man who had captured me and killed those men in front of the church. A crime that I was to be blamed for, no less,” she said.

  “And, yet, immediately afterward, you followed him into the water. You followed him into what must have seemed to be certain death despite the fact he had revealed that all you knew about him was a lie,” he said.

  “Yes,” she said.

  “Well, then. You either have incredible intuition or terrible judgment. Not to offend you, of course. Clearly it was the correct decision and you ought to be commended,” he said.

  “Thank you, I suppose,” Myranda said.

  “I checked up on him. Asked around. Those that can remember him, and there are precious few, all agree on two points. One is that his name isn’t Leo. No one is quite sure what his name is, but it is certainly not what he has told you. Leo, it turns out, was a student that was being trained at the
same time. In what I am sure is no coincidence, his disposition was strikingly similar to that of your friend prior to your discovery of his deception. He was a human, and has since passed on,” Deacon said.

  “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. All else had been a lie, why not that as well?” she said. A thought came to her mind. “Why are there so few that remember him?”

  “That is another thing I was puzzled about. Your friend completed several years of training and left this place seventy years ago, roughly,” he said.

  “Seventy? No, that is impossible. I cannot tell precisely how old he is, but he does not look old by any means,” she said.

  “Oh, on this there can be no doubt. It is one of the few things about him that we have recorded,” he said.

  “But how can you be sure it was his record you found,” she asked.

  “It was labeled ‘Unnamed Lain,’ and bore his description. Also, the two wizards and three warriors who remember him all quote that as the approximate time,” he said. “He is also the only malthrope we have trained.”

  Myranda shook her head in amazement.

  “Unbelievable. With each passing moment, I realize how much less I know about him than I thought. And now I am fairly trapped in the same town as he, and I cannot even catch a glimpse of him, let alone get him to speak,” she said.

  “This really means a lot to you,” he said.

  “I trusted him. I just want to know what manner of person betrayed that trust. I just want to know that there is something about him that is as good and pure as the person he claimed to be,” she said.

  “I won’t lie to you. Between his skills and his seniority here, if he does not wish to see you, he won’t,” Deacon lamented.

  “I’ve come to realize that,” she said.

  “He need only answer to the Elder at this point,” Deacon said.

  Myranda finished her meal as Deacon, having already choked his down as quickly as possible, waited impatiently. The moment she was finished, he led her off in the direction of a cluster of huts on the other side of the village--as always with Myn in tow. Outside of the huts were piles of wood cut to all variety of sizes. The smoke belching out of the chimney of one hut could have only meant that it was the blacksmith’s, while another hut, the one that they were to enter, merely had longer, more slender pieces of wood outside to hint at its purpose. Inside was rather well-lit against the now stiff darkness of the night by the array of crystals that not only lined the walls, but lined shelves and display cases as well.

  A man and a woman, each so like the other that they could only be spouses or siblings, could be found inside. Each wore an odd pare of lenses mounted on stalks on their heads. The woman was at the back, carving a design onto a staff, while the man was nearer to the front, cutting a notch into a larger piece of wood before roughing the rest out into a staff shape. Both were short and stocky, certainly dwarfs. The man had dark hair and a well-groomed beard. The woman was slightly shorter and looked to be a bit younger.

  “This is Myranda. Myranda, this gentleman is Koda and the lady is Gamma. They are our resident staff-makers,” Deacon introduced.

  Koda put down his chisel to shake her hand and offered what sounded like a cheery greeting in whatever odd language he called his own. Gamma looked up and smiled before continuing her exacting work.

  “We will require a training staff and crystal for this young lady,” Deacon said.

  Myn watched curiously as the stout fellow selected several staffs from the racks that lined the wall and handed them to Myranda one by one. Deacon translated the artisan’s questions, which all had roughly to do with how each piece felt, whether she liked the weight, and whether she preferred one thickness or another. Myranda was mostly at a loss for how to answer until Deacon explained that she ought to choose one as though she were choosing a walking stick before hiking.

  Once the appropriate staff was chosen, Koda took some measurements of Myranda’s height and arm length with a knotted rope, shouting said measurements to his partner, who called them back without looking up. When Myn decided he had come too close and moved in to back him away, the dwarf apparently found it absolutely hilarious, as he laughingly recounted the event to his partner, who swiftly joined in the laughter.

  “What is so funny?” Myranda whispered.

  “He had a dog that would do the same thing,” Deacon answered.

  “Ah,” Myranda replied, failing to see the humor in it.

  Still laughing, Koda took the chosen staff to a case of gems and selected one, carefully fitting it into the staff. He then handed it to her and informed Myranda by way of Deacon that, based on her preference and the measurements, a custom one would be made over the course of the next few weeks.

  Myranda looked down at her weapon. It had a dark brown, slightly red color, and was carved along its length with runes similar to those that had formed the spells Wolloff had taught. The crystal was mostly clear, though there were veins here and there that were a bit milky. It was slightly smaller than her fist. Much larger than the one in the locket that Wolloff had given. From end to end, the tool was a bit taller than shoulder height.

  “Excellent choice. Now, if you are ready, it is time for your second day with Solomon,” Deacon said.

  The trio found their way to the training ground where Solomon was waiting. Deacon took a seat at the edge of the stone circle on the ground where the teaching took place and readied his book. Myn gave a dragonish greeting to her fellow creature before taking her seat faithfully beside Myranda. With the crystal of the staff on the ground in front of her, she awaited the flame to be conjured before her. No sooner had it been done than she slipped swiftly into the trance.

  With the aid of the crystal, it took a fraction of the time that it had taken the day before. Everything about it was more vivid. Sensing the essence of the flame and of her own spirit before had been like flailing in the dark in comparison. Now she could sense things about the strange energy she had been oblivious to the night before. It was as though they had a color and a texture that she had missed last time. What’s more, they were not alone. Every inch of her surroundings had a power to it. The air, the earth, and particularly the other people. As her gaze strayed from the flame, she marveled at the galaxy of different auras that surrounded the people of the village. When Solomon began prompting her to do so, she tried to manipulate her own power and found its reactions to be a degree more intense.

  “Do not manipulate your essence as a whole. Separate a part of it,” his voice directed.

  Slowly, she willed some small part of the power she felt within her away from the whole.

  “Now. Sense the power that the fire feeds on. You must feed the fire,” he said.

  With her new, clearer view of the energy, Myranda could certainly detect the power being drawn into the flame. Though manipulating her own energy was still new and unpredictable to her, she tried and tried until she found the swirling ball of spirit changing its nature, becoming more like that which the flame yearned for.

  “Excellent, now bring it to the flame,” he said.

  With the merest thought, she guided her mystic concoction to the flame and was nearly startled out of concentration. The fire leapt up, many times its size and many more times its heat. At the same time, she felt an odd draw on her essence. It was a unique feeling, to be losing this strength that only the day before she did not know she had. The draw was steadily growing more intense as the fire shrunk. By the time the burden stabilized, the fire was barely more than an ember floating in the air.

  “The flame is yours now. Do not lose it,” he ordered.

  Myranda pushed herself to provide more. Almost imperceptibly, the flame began to return. In time, it returned to the size the dragon had conjured. Maintaining the size of the fire was unbearable, like carrying some vast weight. Not only her mind and spirit, but all of her body seemed taxed by it. Beads of sweat formed at her temples, her hands began to shake.

  The draw quickly beca
me unbearable. It seemed days, weeks, a lifetime since she had begun. When she had no more to give, Myranda relented. The fire, floating in air before her, fizzled and died. As the trance lifted, she saw that it was still night. Though she felt that this lesson had taken a great deal longer than the last, it had in reality been less than half the length.

  “That will do for now. Rest if you must, practice if you can, but come here fully refreshed tomorrow,” Solomon said before retiring.

  Myranda, despite the massive increase in effort, felt far more herself now than she had the day before. The staff really had made quite a difference, at least in the cost of the spell. To be sure, the world still seemed to be shrouded in a haze, and thinking was difficult, but she was able to climb to her feet and walk with the aid of the staff. Deacon approached her, but now that his help was unneeded, Myn judged him unnecessary and forced him to keep his distance.

  “That is a respectable endurance for only the second lesson,” he said.

  Myranda thanked him, shaking her head in an attempt to clear the cobwebs that were hanging about her mind. He continued to talk, but she found it difficult to focus on his words and walk at the same time. In fact, she had taken fifty steps or so before she realized Deacon had repeatedly been asking her where she was headed, and she did not know the answer.

  “Where do you suggest?” she asked.

  “If I were you, I would head home to meditate until I had a bit more of my wits about me,” he suggested.

  “Meditate?” she asked.

  “Oh, of course, how can I be so foolish? You have not been taught to do so. It is quite useful, I assure you,” he said.

  Deacon escorted her to her hut and pulled a chair before hers.

  “If you can manage it, I need you to gather your focus enough to sense your own essence again,” he said.

  “I shall try,” Myranda offered.

  She sat in her chair and focused about the gem. It required a fair amount more effort than last time, but soon enough she was aware of the mystic energies again, both outside and in.