by DB King
“You alright?” Eliza asked, joining him at the railing. “Sylvia really brutalized you back there. I wasn’t sure you’d survive, honestly.”
Raphael grinned. So engrossed in his own thoughts, he hadn’t heard her approach. “I’ve had worse from Koshi. We used to spar for hours and hours, back when he was still…”
Healthy. Now he’s not, anymore, Raphael thought. I’ve got to make enough money so that he can get the help he needs.
Eliza must have sensed his thoughts. She clasped him on the shoulder. “Koshi will be just fine in the care of the Crescent Moon sisters. And once we’re done with this assignment, I’m sure you’ll have quite a few exciting stories to share with him.”
“That’s something to look forward to,” he agreed. “But right now, I’d better focus on what’s immediately ahead of us. The whole situation with Vitoria and the sanguine treants sounds very messy.”
“Have you fought a sanguine treant before?” Eliza asked.
“No, I haven’t. All I’ve encountered in the junkyard so far are night-fiends and howlers. Do you know anything about sanguine treants?”
“They’re dead trees possessed by dark spirits that drive them to animation and imbue them with a ceaseless hunger for human flesh and blood,” Eliza explained. “That’s why Fenix and I were so sure just now that Nature Magic had to be involved, since sanguine treants don’t exist naturally and, as he pointed out, trees don’t disappear and then reappear in different places.”
“There is someone behind all of this, then,” Raphael said. “Whoever this person is, he knows Nature magic, and he’s using it to hurt the people of Vitoria.”
“If sanguine treants are involved, then this person must know Necromancy as well, a forbidden school of magic. This would make him, or her, what we call a Death Druid.”
“Wow! You know so many things, Eliza.” Raphael turned away from the now darkening horizon and met her gaze. “You’re amazing!”
Eliza gave him a weak smile. “Not as amazing as Sylvia the Vorpal Dancer. And you, of course, Raphael. And Fenix, the Academy’s brightest and most gifted graduate. I’m just a girl who’s read a lot of old books and dusty scrolls.”
“And who’s terrific with a sword, and brave, and kind. If you’re just a girl, then you’re the best girl I know!”
“Thanks, Raphael,” Eliza said, a faint blush creeping over her cheeks, as she looked away, but her smile had brightened. Then she turned back, a slight frown forming on her face. “Wait. Just how many girls do you know?”
“Uh. Lots? I mean, half of the kids I went to school with are girls. And I know plenty of them from the marketplace, too. There’s little Tessa, Isabella, Martina, Nicole, Bianca…” Raphael trailed off, since Eliza’s expression grew darker with every name that fell from his lips. He had a feeling that he’d gotten into some kind of trouble, and though he didn’t quite understand why or what kind of trouble it was, he was absolutely sure that it’d only get deeper if he continued.
“Hey, you two. Evening meal’s ready,” Fenix said, walking up to them, a steaming bowl in his hands. “Come get a bowl of stew from the kitchen before the elf eats everything. Never have I seen a more unladylike person.”
“Raphael’s the expert on ladies, so I’ll leave this discussion to the both of you.” Eliza sniffed, turned up her nose, and stalked away to the kitchens.
“What just happened?” Raphael asked.
Fenix shrugged. “Don’t think about it so much. Not worth your time or energy. Go get some food and then turn in early. Sylvia’s got plenty of pain lined up for you in the days to come.”
By the time Raphael managed to get in line for food at the kitchens, Eliza had gotten over whatever had been irritating her. She smiled at him, and they chatted pleasantly over a bowl of clam stew. As night fell, deep and dark, they made their way to the war party’s cabin.
Fenix was already snoring loudly in one of the lower bunks. Rayne popped out of Raphael’s pocket, clambered over the battlemage’s chest, wriggled, and nestled down onto its front claws. Fenix groaned and fidgeted in his sleep. Raphael suspected that whatever dreams the battlemage would have tonight wouldn’t be the most pleasant.
Sylvia was in the other lower bunk. Her eyes were closed. In sleep, she was a vision of ethereal and timeless beauty. Raphael shook his head as he recalled how the elf had poured three bowls of stew down her throat a few hours ago before body-slamming a sailor through a table. What you see isn’t what you always get, I guess.
“I’m going to stay outside for a bit and work on cultivating my Ryu-To-Ki,” Raphael whispered. “Goodnight, Eliza.”
“Goodnight, Raphael,” she replied, clambering up to the bunk bed above Fenix’s. “Don’t go to bed too late.”
Raphael closed the door and made his way above-decks once more. All the other passengers were already in their cabins, snoring through their doors. He emerged from the stairwell and into the cold light of the moon.
Several sailors muttered pleasantries to him as they passed. The main deck was emptying as the crew went to take their rest, leaving only the night watchmen on duty. Ignoring their curious glances, Raphael found a secluded spot by the railing, sat down in the lotus position, and drew upon his Ryu-To-Ki. He reached out to the Fourth Brazier, but it still remained distant, beyond the light of the Dragon Meridian.
To his surprise, the Third Brazier blazed brightly, its flames overflowing its boundaries and snaking out toward the Fourth. The Third Brazier was now entirely at his command, and he’d found out that he could extend his draconic armor to whatever he touched. It was unthinkable that he’d made so much progress in the past few hectic days, where he hadn’t even been able to sit down and focus on cultivating his Ryu-To-Ki.
Perhaps Sylvia was right. The rigors and pressures of battle were the best avenue of progress. Or maybe it was a mixture of both. Cultivating his Ryu-To-Ki prepared him for the trials to come, and overcoming the challenges made him stronger. That seemed right to Raphael. He thought back to when he first ignited the First and Second Braziers. Each occasion had happened after many months of cultivation and training under Koshi but was triggered only after a particularly grueling trek into the junkyard.
Cultivation and adventuring. That’s how I’m going to become more powerful. Raphael took a deep breath, focused his will on the Dragon Meridian’s light, and got to work.
Chapter 16
The next four days followed a similar cycle: early morning beatings by Sylvia, the midday meal and a brief rest, followed by more beatings from the elf until it was time for the evening meal. Raphael was covered in bruises, and he’d acquired a limp, but wielding the glaive now felt like second-nature, and the First through the Third Braziers had never burned so brightly. He felt stronger and sharper than he’d ever been.
On the fifth morning, as he gingerly made his way to the main deck under Eliza’s worried gaze, Fenix turned to him and said, “We’re expected to make landfall in two days. I’ll be joining you in training until then. We need to establish some kind of team strategy as mage and armsman.”
Sylvia chuckled. “I haven’t trounced you in battle in quite a while, Fenix. I’m going to enjoy this.”
“One day, elf, I’ll be powerful enough to turn the tables. Let’s see how you like an Explosive Orb—”
“Oh, the big bad battlemage wants to talk about swinging his orbs around women?” Sylvia interrupted him. “You’re such a pervert, Fenix. How haven’t you been imprisoned for your lechery yet?”
“…let’s just get started,” Fenix growled, his face turning red.
As the prismatic, infinite confines of the Pocket Dimension swirled around them, the battlemage put on his jeweled gauntlets and stretched his neck muscles.
“As you did previously, now I’ll go over what I can do as well. Let’s start from the beginning. Mages learn spells through study. Taking in Spell Dust through their Vectors allows them to then cast the spells they’ve learned. I’m a battlemage. This m
eans that unlike mages who specialize in and learn as many spells as possible from a particular school of magic, I use only very specific spells, each taken from different schools, and orchestrate their casting for optimal combat effectiveness.” Fenix raised his right hand and pointed it into the rainbow-hued distance. He uttered a single word. An orb of red light appeared in his palm. It pulsed for several moments before streaking away into infinity.
Fenix clenched his fist. The orb exploded with a tremendous boom. The air pressure lashed the trailing ends of Raphael’s hair back from his face. Raphael whooped in exhilaration. This orb was far more powerful than the ones Fenix had used in their first fight. He wasn’t sure his draconic armor could stand up to more than two or three such spells.
“You’ve seen Explosive Orb. When I take a bit of time to charge it with more magical energy, it produces a much larger effect. Alternatively, I can hurl uncharged Explosive Orbs in rapid succession,” Fenix explained. “This is my most expedient form of offense. It’s a Fire spell, but its explosive and concussive effects also cause physical damage, so elemental shields can’t defend against it entirely.”
“Next, this is Chain Lightning, another spell you’ve also already seen.” The battlemage angled the fingers of his outstretched hand slightly lower. A bolt of yellow lightning raked out. It struck the gray featureless floor ten feet from Fenix. He moved his fingers. The lightning jumped from its initial point of impact to another spot on the floor. The battlemage repeated the process a few more times, creating ten pools of crackling electricity, all joined by the stream of lightning emanating from his fingertips.
“It’s a more taxing spell than Explosive Orb, but I can use it to target multiple powerful opponents at once,” Fenix said, his voice strained. The battlemage extinguished his spell and brought up his other hand, so that now he had both palms facing away from him.
Green light flared and a tremendous gust of wind blasted forth from the battlemage, sending his cape whipping from his shoulders. “This is the aptly named Wind Blast, another one you’ve already seen. It’s more of a utility spell, meant for area denial or terrain control.”
“You can also disappear and reappear in a different place,” Raphael said.
Fenix did just that, rematerializing behind Raphael. “Yes. The Blink spell gives me considerable mobility on the field of battle. It’s a spell that really drains my resources, so I can only cast it ten times before I need to catch my breath, and I need at least several seconds between each cast.”
The battlemage clenched his fist, and an orb of white light shimmered into existence around his body. He grinned. “Spirit Shield, a Light spell. If it weren’t for this, I believe I would have died in our fight, having blown myself up with an Explosive Orb. It negates the elemental effects of most spells, but it isn’t quite as effective against physical attacks.”
Fenix dismissed his magical shield and shrugged. “The last battlemage spell is Banish, but it’s a complicated one. I can pull it off, but not easily, and there’s no relevant target for me to demonstrate it on here, anyway.”
“Banish is a Holy spell,” Eliza explained to Raphael. “Such magic is usually only effective against undead creatures.”
“Sanguine treants are undead, aren’t they? Such a spell might come in handy if we’re going to be fighting them,” Raphael pointed out.
Fenix nodded. “That’s true, which is why I’ve been practicing it during the journey. If we have need of it, I’ll use Banish, but sanguine treants die as easily as anything else to Explosive Orbs or Chain Lightning.”
“Are these all the spells you know?” Raphael asked.
“No. I’ve picked up a few other spells here and there through studying scrolls and grimoires at the Academy of Battle Magic, but none of them are part of my arsenal as a battlemage.” Fenix glanced at Sylvia. “If you haven’t noticed, each time she casts a spell, she requires at least a short incantation or several hand gestures. When I cast my battle spells, all I need is my intent, direction, and perhaps a word or two, which makes me a combat specialist, much more so than other mages.”
“That’s really impressive!” Raphael cried. “How did I ever win our first fight?”
“A combination of luck, Fenix’s underestimation of you, and your own combat aptitude,” Sylvia said, walking away before coming to a halt nearly thirty feet away from them. “Fenix, do you have a particular strategy you want to adopt with Raphael, or are you going with conventional tactics for now?”
“Let’s keep things simple, first.” Fenix pointed to Raphael’s glaive. “Raphael, as an armsman, your job is to keep enemies from reaching me while I annihilate them with my spells. With your strength, speed, and armor, I believe you are more than up to the task.”
“Alright. Is that what we’re working on today?” Raphael hefted his weapon and rolled his shoulders. “Am I supposed to try keeping Sylvia away from you? You know how strong and fast she is. I’ll give it my all, but I think you’re going to be sharing some of my bruises today.”
“I’ve already discussed this with her,” Fenix said. “The elf won’t be our opponent today, at least not in a personal capacity. Come. Take up position ten feet in front of me and slightly off-angle from my left shoulder.”
As Raphael moved to comply, Rayne zipped out from his pocket and flew to Eliza. It took her sleeve in its mouth and gently tugged at it, wanting her to stand clear of the coming clash against Sylvia. She nodded and followed the faerie dragon away, her eyes bright and pensive.
“Alright, ready or not, here I come to beat you both up!” the elf declared.
Sylvia clasped her hands together and began an incantation. Frost swirled into existence around her wrists. Sinking down to one knee, she pressed her palms against the floor. Six columns of ice shot up around her.
“That’s Higher Order Frost magic,” Fenix said, an eager grin on his face. “Get ready, Raphael. This is going to be quite a challenge.”
“Rend my foes and chill their blood,” Sylvia chanted, her words perfectly clear and intelligible to Raphael thanks to the Dragon Meridian. “Unleash thy fury, O’ wolves of winter!”
The columns of ice burst apart, revealing a crystalline wolf in each of them. Where blood, flesh, and fur were supposed to be, ice and frost instead held sway. The conjured beasts howled once, and then they charged, their claws clattering frenetically against the floor.
Raphael was tempted to meet the enchanted beasts’ advance and engage them with broad sweeps of his glaive, but he hung back, mindful of what role he was supposed to play. Two red orbs streaked past his right shoulder. Each struck a wolf and blew them apart. That was two beasts down, and four still to go.
“I’ve blunted one flank, so there are fewer angles for you to worry about!” Fenix called. “See what you can do to intercept those that remain!”
Raphael dashed sideways, angling himself at the charging wolves. He placed himself directly in the path of two of them, but he saw that the remaining two would be able to run past him and reach Fenix. Fortunately, his glaive extended his reach.
He released the weapon with his left hand, letting its weight fall entirely on his right, which he’d sidled to a low position on its shaft, just above its butt. Pivoting on the ball of his left foot, Raphael pushed his glaive across his body and stepped his right leg out in a lunge, the strength of the First Brazier allowing him to thrust with a seven-foot polearm as Eliza would with her rapier.
The curved blade of the glaive punched into the wolf furthest away from him, shattering its skull into a shower of frozen crystals and tripping over the one right beside it. Raphael retracted his weapon, bringing its shaft up just in time to place it between the snapping jaws of the two wolves that he was directly in front of.
Fenix destroyed the tripped wolf with another Explosive Orb. Meanwhile, the remaining two snarled and clawed at Raphael, their icy paws gouging against his abdomen and straining against his draconic armor, even as he tried to keep their jaws away from h
is face.
The battlemage appeared in front of Raphael, about ten feet away.
Blink spell, Raphael thought, it’s just as incredible as the first time I saw it.
Fenix raised one hand. A sphere of white light burst into existence around Raphael.
Spirit Shield.
However, it did nothing to lessen the bite of the wolves’ claws tearing at his stomach.
Fenix raised his other hand. A bolt of lightning crackled forth and struck one wolf, then arced around to strike the other. The magical conjurations burst apart into shards of ice, even as yellow sparks crawled and fizzled harmlessly around Raphael, held at bay by the sphere of white light the battlemage had placed around him.
“If you’re too heavily engaged by enemies to avoid my arc of fire, this is one tactic we can adopt. I’ll shield you from the effects of my spells while I bombard the vicinity around you, thereby annihilating our foes,” Fenix said.
“Well done, the both of you!” Sylvia congratulated them. “But we’ve only just begun!”
This time, twelve columns of ice shot up around the elf.
“Heh,” Fenix sneered. Red orbs blazed into existence above his palms. “Let’s go, Raphael. This is going to be easy.”
It wasn’t.
* * *
Raphael sank to his haunches, utterly exhausted and aching from a dozen places. Fenix was slumped beside him, his head resting in Eliza’s lap while Rayne, perched on her shoulder, whined in sympathy. Fenix’s face was covered in cuts and bruises, and his clothes were soaked in blood. They’d taken a severe mauling from Sylvia’s ice wolves, and the elf had needed Healing Magic to bring the battlemage back from the brink of death after she’d dismissed her conjured beasts.
They were back on the deck of the Sparrow’s Light. It was just after mid-morning. Passing sailors muttered and stared at Raphael’s and Fenix’s injuries.
