by P. S. Power
Crystals of Memory: Book Two
War Bow
P.S. Power
Copyright 2019
Orange Cat Publishing
Dedication
This work is dedicated to Gagandeep Singh Dhillon, who didn’t just sponsor me on Patreon... He’s also a great person outside of that. Ask anyone.
Chapter one
The force of the movement felt off to Anders, even as he lifted into the air, being flung higher than he’d ever been above the Earth before. The man who had done it, Depak Sona, froze in place, his left hand still raised, as if ready to catch the boy if he failed to figure out a way to save himself before he plummeted to the hard ground below. A thing that would be fatal to him, if either of them failed to act in a timely fashion.
A thrill of fear ran through him then, along with a mild threat of his trousers becoming damp. He figured that would have happened, if not for the fact that most of the water had already been wrung out of him by the work of the last hour. Regardless of that fact, it took nearly as much concentration to prevent that from happening in the moment as it did to compose a spell on the fly. He smiled as he thought that. He was, after all, actually flying at the moment. At least he was about to be, since dying was such a poor way to get anything meaningful accomplished, most days.
“Fla Andersana Fen ot!” He managed not to sound nearly as fearful as he felt in the moment. His voice was still a bit too high pitched, but that was the lot of a boy who had only seen twelve years. Though his real age was probably nearing thirteen.
He considered that, as he drifted downward, slowly. The wind of the day, which wasn’t stiff or blustery, though cold enough to be impressive, moved him away from his starting point as he floated through the air. No faster than a man might walk, ambling along.
Seeing that his trainee wasn’t about to die that day, the magician below smiled. Then he finished the flourish of his left hand. That was clad in heavy layers of silk and a material that was thicker than that, which was a thing new to Istlan.
Then, his voice pleasant, if loud, the Magician called out again.
It wasn’t in congratulations to Anders, either. No, it was a gout of fire that flew through the air at him. A white-hot line of real flame that at the very least would have burned him severely, if he didn't have anything ready to defend himself with. There wasn’t even time enough to speak a single word in response. All he could do was hold his hand up, a tinge of fear coming at him again.
It was his left, two fingers, the last ones, curled, the thumb out, a shield of energy and air forming, making the flames skip away from him. This time, unlike the last he’d faced such a thing, he didn't end up with burns on his arm. That was due, thankfully, to his having improved the shield he was using. Some weeks before he’d nearly died because he wasn’t ready to face magical flame. Now he was. It had taken him nearly a week to work out everything needed for it. Another to master the shield well enough to bring it into being inside a second, at need.
A thing that Depak Sona knew, of course. The Ambassador from Barquea having aimed flame at him many times as he tested and then reworked the thing. None of those had been a line of death ripping through the air, naturally. The fire wasn’t that accurate though, thankfully. It had drifted to the left of him, instead of being a direct blast against his magical protections. It was due to the technique used, the line of death being flung away from the other man, and that Anders was still drifting, making him harder to hit. Also, he was well out of range, really.
At least supposedly. He noticed that Master Depak was being accurate enough that had they both been on the ground, he could have easily cooked his young seeming friend, even if he was a hundred paces away. It was hard, nearly impossible to affect the world at greater than ten paces from the magic user. Many forms and styles had tricks to allow that to happen.
In this case, something different was going on that Anders had ever seen before. He thought it was simply that the other man was throwing the magic at him. Accurately enough that it was a viable weapon for the battlefield. If so, it was a new thing to him. A trick that the other man hadn’t even mentioned before. Except, when he considered it for a moment, that wasn’t true. He recalled the man having said that things could be flung away from the user, a few times. That had always been in reference to objects though, not the magic itself.
Which, when he considered the idea for a moment, he could see. The fire was the physical object and not a spell. Not that he didn't have to hold himself behind his protections as he kept floating downward, regardless of the distance between them. There was a serious problem with the spell that he’d used, even if it was working at the moment. He could make things float, and probably work out how to fly, given that. His body wasn’t that heavy, though he was breathing hard, gasping already, from the magic he was using at the moment. He didn't notice if he was sweating more than before. Mainly because Depak had pushed him to a level that had already left him drenched through his clothing.
Thankfully he’d been falling already, so was moving toward the safety of the ground, since he would have been hard pressed to perform a third spell at that moment to control where he went. It wasn’t impossible, magically speaking, but working out how to steer himself as he was watching the man on the ground and protecting himself was too much for him to think through.
He grimaced as he landed on the Earth.
“Fen.” The spell that he’d left open broke, his weight coming back, leaving his knees bending as he nearly buckled from the impact. The energy of the landing was still there, after all. Once he wasn’t floating, that part remained, pushing him downward as if he’d jumped into the air and returned.
He turned, half expecting Depak Sona to run at him, or use a different spell to attack. Perhaps one of water or ice in nature, to force him to adapt what he’d been doing without warning, again. It was the nature of the training they’d been doing. Instead, off in the distance, the bald man clapped his hands and called out.
“Excellent! That should be enough for today. Pushing you to true exhaustion won’t aid you in learning. Not past a certain portion of effort. You have limited reserves. We all do.” The man stiffened a bit, as Anders walked over. It wasn’t in worry over a counter attack, either.
No, it was due to what he’d spoken of. A thing that had been considered by both Farad, the old historian and Anders the child, in the previous days.
He nodded as he got closer.
“I know. I’m not willing to kill thousands of people to gain more power. Not even to stop Ganges. My old student seems not to have such a constraint left to him. It might not be possible for me to face him in battle, given that.” He sighed, which came out sounding young and a bit frustrated. Both parts of himself felt the same way over the issue. That was rare, since they battled over even little things, much of the time. “I... Probably can’t stop him, can I? Not alone. Even with an army it might not be possible. I’m a child in magic and he’s been practicing for hundreds of years. More than that. Over a thousand, that we know of.”
Ganges had been a terror for over five hundred years in his first life, but he’d clearly been back, after that. Probably with his mind trapped in a cursed crystal between times, waiting to return to the living. Maybe even more than one. It was possible that they weren’t facing a single copy of the man, given that. If he couldn’t beat one Ganges the Great, then ten would be an unstoppable force. Anders didn’t bother speaking on that topic at all. If they were over matched, then it was his part to see toward equalizing the situation.
Depak snorted at him.
“True. A man, using only the powers of a single body cannot overcome such a monster easily. These lessons aren’t to train you to fight such a force, Anders. It is merely to allow you to survive what is upon u
s now. We will have to find another way to stop Ganges the Terrible, no doubt. On the good side we do have time. I strongly doubt he’s going to die and escape us, for instance.” The man waved for him to follow, ignoring the gasping which was still going on.
Depak Sona was doing a bit of his own heavy breathing, not seeming to be worried about looking poorly over it. Then, there was no great virtue in hiding that from the boy with him. From the watchers, either. That part was new, having come only in the last few days. People from the castle, some of them guards, but many not, had come to watch him flounder and struggle not to die as Depak pushed him in new ways.
There were three groups there, with some of the servants standing well back, staring at him as if he might be something evil. One of them was Agorn, a serving man that Anders had never had much to do with. The fellow always spoke down to him, or had in the past. In the moment he positively glared, as if he wanted to fight. The rest of the servants just seemed troubled. Then, these five or six were the ones that didn’t fear magic too much, most likely. Anders noted who they were, just in case that factor was ever needed. A man or woman that didn’t fear such abilities could be useful to know.
The more noble crowd sniffed and acted unimpressed, at least. The guards waved at him as he passed, so he did it back. One of the noblemen smiled at least. It seemed a genuine thing, as if he was pleased with what the castle boy was getting up to. Baron Kilroy. Anders nodded at the man, since being friendly with those in power simply made sense to him.
No one called for him to stop and speak to them. There was no explanation as to why anyone had been there to observe him, either. Not that he needed one, really. What he and Depak had been doing was frightening to many, since magic was impressive. Seeing flying people and vast gouts of flame would be a good spectacle, to pass the time, as well. An amusement, after a fashion.
The same people often went to watch the knights practice as well, no doubt. Most of the very powerful weren’t actively working at anything, day to day, from what he could see. For the most part they went around spying on one another, trying to find plotting against their masters, and planning their own attacks and feints that way. There was probably more to it than that, but neither Farad or Anders had noticed it happening at any large level so far, if it was. There were others who regularly did real things there, of course. The guards were the baffling ones there, at the moment. They normally spent their time training or working, for the most part.
That six of them had been in attendance, watching himself and Depak, was a bit strange.
He moved along with the Ambassador, the men not following along or anything. If he were being guarded as a threat, they would have been right there, making certain that he didn’t do anything bad. That the King might be less than perfectly trusting of him made sense. That had been spoken of, if in hints, and gentle glances that were possibly telling.
Then, King Matthias hadn’t worked against him at all. Not even by withdrawing aid or privileges, which Anders had kind of suspected might happen after learning that it was Ganges, a man known to Farad Ibn Istel from his first life, who was their greatest foe.
Instead, the monarch had simply suggested that they needed to prepare for war. Yanse had declared open war against them, after all. There were only small engagements so far, but they were still only in the first months of the thing. A thing that might not even materialize as a real contest until the next spring. That gave them some time to prepare, though Anders the boy inside, rankled at the idea.
He wanted to go and settle things, right then.
Farad grimaced a bit, which was noticed by Depak.
Sighing, he shook his head at the older man as they walked. Then he muttered a spell, to dry himself, moisture hitting the shrubbery to the right, where his pale hand pointed. After that he took the dirt from his body, with a separate piece of magic.
Then he spoke, his voice a bit sour.
“I rather declared my intent to go and stop Ganges... then managed to spend most of my time taking messages for people. That’s hardly... The same.” He nearly stated that he wasn’t being useful, since Anders saw their using magic to send, and in the last week, receive, messages from the front as being little more than a page at the castle.
A message boy, sent off to run letters and tokens around the place.
Farad knew better, of course. He wasn’t a military man or warrior, but he had spent a lifetime learning the history of such things. In his head were great works on battle strategy, after all. All of them spoke of good communications as being a key to guiding armies.
Which gave him an idea.
“I need to leave soon. For the front.”
Depak Sona went hard then. His eyes dark and brooding, which wasn’t the man’s normal way at all.
“Do you truly think that you’re ready to battle armies on your own? I can see you managing to some extent, but...”
Farad snorted. It came out sounding young and a bit annoyed, since Anders simply wasn’t large enough to pull such a thing off. It was a matter of resonance, after all. His nose wasn’t big enough for the sound to be deep or manly, yet.
“Not that one. Not at all, in fact. Clearly, avoiding battle is always the course of greater sense, when possible. We can’t recall the generals and leaders from the front right now, however. We have three battle groups out, and only have good communications with one of them, so far. Captain Horner is the only person that I can get in touch with, using my new system. If they can’t answer to my pleasure, so I can gain the needed links to people, then I’ll need to go to them.”
That probably wasn’t going to be allowed. After all, he was a boy. Even if part of him simply wasn’t. Really, he was mainly the apprentice to the Bowyer and Fletcher, who also took lessons in magic and fighting in the afternoons. Which was what he needed to get to soon. The second portion of his magical training. He also had lessons with Master Tolan, who he was officially apprenticed to, at the moment.
It was a bit confusing, since normal boys tended to have only one such duty. Anders had, rather suddenly, been placed with far more than that. He had also had cooking lessons in the evenings, which made him smile, even if part of him begrudged the time it took each day.
Senna Grace had been given orders to train him to cook, mainly because Prince Erold had suggested he learn how, as a jest. Then Prince Robarts, the Heir, had written that down, setting it into action. It meant he ran constantly, from one task to the next, with little rest between times, most days. He’d half figured that would be over, after having come back from the north and east, having seen battle at Sapphire Lake like he had. At least the boy inside had figured that.
Farad knew that it would be years before he could truly rest. He had too much to learn, honestly. Focusing on fewer things made some sense to him, since it was obvious that he probably wasn’t going to become a castle cook for an occupation, or go into the Army doing that, either. Not that it harmed him to learn how it was done. It was simply that it was hard to juggle everything he had going on. Especially since he was called on, several times a week, often at random times, to pass messages.
Which would only be worse if he could contact each of the three battle groups. Still, there was a war on and him doing his duty to the kingdom had to be more important than avoiding a bit of work. Even Anders, a boy known for being rather lazy, understood that part of things.
The trick there, no doubt, was in figuring out who he needed to talk to about that kind of thing. He had to move out soon, really, if he was going to get to the front, learn what was needed and get back before the snows set in. That would make traveling too hard to manage, most likely. Being on the front lines, camping out for the winter, would be far less than fun. It was horrible for the men that had to do it, but needed. What wasn’t important was for him to be there, struggling to stay warm and standing watch with his own eyes.
At the main Ambassadorial hallway, Depak turned to him.
“I’ll see you in the morning? T
here are some minor things we need to speak about, soon. Nothing too important. I’ll need to have a message sent to Aisla. There was a missive from Sula Dorian, which should be discussed, soon.” Depak shrugged, then his face a bit wry. “Your grandfather, under the rules of my people. That is what we need to talk about. It’s not a thing to rush, or to worry over, to be honest.” He waved his hand then and walked off, not waiting for a reply.
The words were a bit cryptic, but Anders simply walked away. He wasn’t going to chase an Ambassador, calling out for him to explain himself. They could do that the next morning, when he cleaned the man’s room for him. He did that for the entire ambassadorial wing, though the real servants had actually started to take over for the rest of the day. Mainly he’d been turned into the chamber pot boy in the mornings, given that.
Finally.
That was down to Daren Willet, of course. The serving man who had stepped up and gotten the rest of the servants to realize that the Modroc and Barquea Ambassadors wouldn’t actually turn them into dogs or stab them, merely for trying to bring tea in a timely fashion. Really, all of the ambassadorial staff was polite and kind to the servants. More so than the Istlan nobles were, in general.
A thing that had taken time for the servants to learn. True, Daren still had to see to Depak Sona and Duma Sett himself, since they were magic users, and many were afraid of that type of person, but even that was going to wear away soon, Anders figured. It was just a matter of time and the fact that no one there was really doing anything bad. Well, except flinging him into the air and trying to light him on fire.
The servants had seen it, too. That wouldn’t help them feel protected and safe, he had to think. Unless they viewed it as Depak Sona being there to protect them from him, of course.
Rather than mutter about it, he moved off to the eastern tower, where Master Tolan was waiting for him. Except, at the door, after ten minutes of walking, the man wasn’t there at all. Anders felt frustrated, for the moment. Farad simply considered the situation and nodded to himself. Then closed his eyes and cleared his thoughts.
