Battle Mage: Forging New Steel (Tales of Alus Book 9) (67 page)

              "This is stupid, Magnus," the battle mage began, but was quickly interrupted as the wizard leapt towards him swinging the fire blade. His own weapon came up instinctively to catch the attack. The smell of burnt hairs on his arm and forehead made the young man's nose itch almost instantly.

              A second strike and Sebastian nearly dropped his sword as it threatened to burn his hands. The leather smoked from between his fingers. "Sword!" the word triggered thought and flame leapt up the blade even as the third stroke caught his blade with the force of a hammer.

              Sebastian's weapon shook free of his fingers with the jarring impact. "Shield!" he cried out frantically. A shield shimmered around his left arm. The blue glimmer cast a chill towards the wizard who lashed out once again with his flaming sword. Only a few impacts and the shield began to tear even as Sebastian was rocked back again and again.

              Suddenly a blast of wind caught the grey forcefully across the chest. The wizard, he noted now, had started chanting and used the sword with only one hand as the second now pointed to where his chest had just been.

              Sneering down at the fallen student, Magnus frowned and shook his head, "Like I said, I can't figure it out. You may have something on regular soldiers, but it hardly seems worth the effort."

              "Novitiate Magnus, desist!," a voice called from behind the assembled battle mages. "Anyone can win when he attacks an opponent by surprise. Such behavior is intolerable, however, and cowardly. I will have your teacher notified of your actions here today."

              A strong looking man dressed from head to toe in black stepped forward and faced the young mage. There was a coldness in his eyes that could chill most men to their souls. Even an arrogant man like Magnus was forced to swallow a moment to regain his composure, but regain it he did and the attitude that flowed from it. "Falconi Garrett, how nice to see you too. Have I done something to warrant your attention this morning?"

              "I would say so, boy," the demeaning name caused the wizard to flush even more red beneath the sunburn and freckles. "When you attack anyone in White Hall, whether wizard, mage or man, you become my problem or another's. This time it was my privilege. Now apologize and show you have at least a little honor, novitiate."

              The wizard stood still a moment before looking down and saying, "I'm sorry that I beat you around and I'm also sorry that you aren't good enough to do anything about it, Sebastian."

              "Magnus!," the falconi growled.

              "I accept," the grey replied abruptly cutting off his elder. "Next time I won't let you get away with it either, Magnus."

              A bit of surprise stole into the mage's eyes. A moment later, he answered, "We'll see." The wizard turned away followed by his followers who all shared much the same expression. The door closed and Sebastian busied himself with retrieving his sword and cleaning it before replacing it in its sheath.

              The students and their teachers moved back to their areas and began again. A new trio stepped into the courtyard with raised eyebrows at the unusual activity of the courtyard. Eyes also strayed to the Falconi standing over the young battle mage.

              "Why?"

              Sebastian stood up again and asked, "Why what, sir?"

              "I told him to apologize and he insulted you. You, however, accepted the insult when I would have demanded more from that arrogant little pup."

              Shrugging indifference, the younger man replied, "He said nothing inaccurate. I should have been better ready for him. We all know what his kind can do. I didn't fight well. He won. I'll remember for next time though."

              The older man chuckled though the sound didn't seem like amusement. The laughter never touched his eyes at least, "I suppose you will at that. Let me ask you something though. What will you do to win next time?"

              The younger man shrugged. "I'll be ready for those tricks at least and expect that he'll try more."

              The falconi nodded. The young man had a quiet intensity that he had seen only rarely in his years of fighting. He knew from experience that those tended to be some of the best. "I expect that he will. You're Sebastian, correct?"

              The younger man nodded.

              "I hope to see you in falcon brown one of these days, lad. Maybe then you can prove that hothead wrong about us."

For the origin of Darius the High Wizard try:

The Emperor’s Shadow War

Chapter 1- Dante

The smells of blood and death lay upon the plain.
The orange light of a new day's sun added its color to the
already crimson stained earth. The cries of crows and
ravens broke the still air with their raucous calls of
delight and the occasional squabble over a choice piece
of meat. The fights ended quickly though. There was
more than enough for even their great numbers, but the
large ebony scavengers had their work cut out for them
even still. Armor that had sought to protect the men of
Certe in life resisted the strength of their beaks even
though it had failed its responsibility so completely.

A sudden movement from the center of the dead
startled the scavengers from their fare. The air turned
dark as the flock lifted angrily from their meals. A groan
from the final surviving defender was drowned out by the
squawks of the brazen birds. The warrior fought his way
weakly to his knees. A hand brushed absently at the
blood blinding his vision. Looking back to the ground in
front of him, the man found his broken sword.

The largest of the ravens swooped downwards to land before the man. It looked at him curiously. The man thought that he could see disbelief in the creature's eyes
which mirrored that which he also felt. It squawked at
him as if to ask him how it was that he still lived.

A croak through his raw throat was his
ineffectual retort. The soldier coughed and the effort
nearly threw him back onto his face in the gore. He spied
an unopened canteen on a body nearby and reached out
for it. Lifting the container to his mouth, the fallen
warrior poured the liquid between his lips. The silver
haired man rinsed out his mouth and spit it back out. The
water had turned red before it even touched the blood
stained earth.

Pouring the contents of the canteen back into
his mouth, he forced his throat to swallow. Once started,
the man couldn't stop until the vessel was drained.

The raven hadn't moved throughout the whole of
his efforts.

The man stared at the creature in amazement. The thought of the scavenger drew him to look about him. The death surrounding him caused an unbidden
gasp. He could tell that the hundreds of bodies mostly
belonged to his comrades and allies. The army of King
Druin lay about him in great unkempt piles.

He forced himself to remember how the losses
could possibly have happened. The sight of a dark
misshapen body sent waves of memory flowing harshly
back into his consciousness. Tears of bitterness and
failure came unbidden as he remembered it all.

Dante Betrice of the Certe Alliance Guard had
come with his comrades when reports of the dark horde
invading their lands had come to them. King Druin ruled
in the south of the alliance and had sent the first
battalion to meet the unknown intruders. General Batist
had confidently led his men to the plain of Turo and there
the army found that they faced the horror of creatures
not born of their world.

The creatures consisting of two main types wore
black armor strangely discolored by a crimson gloss. The
smaller creatures all had dark green skin, a green that
resembled that of an evergreen in winter. Small and
quick they darted in and out and around the humans with
their long knives. If a man wasn't careful, the beasts
would take swipes at his legs going for the tendons in
particular. He had seen many a soldier fall to the tactic and the creatures were quick to pounce in small groups
to finish off their victim as well. If they didn't get the kill,
their larger cousins would use their axes and clubs
instead. With rough skin the color of oak bark, the
creatures were nearly the height of a full grown man and
had chests wider than a man's shoulder width. The larger
beasts had formed a core through which their smaller
cousins operated.

With power and speed, the dark warriors had
quickly dismantled the entire command.

Dante had fought valiantly. Even as the men
around him fell, he had continued to hold his ground.
Dark creatures could be found slain in the midst of the
Certe Guardsmen, and some were the result of his work.
Then the numbers had closed in on him. Their mass
proved too strong for his blade and the shield he had
carried was left in tatters.

This brought him back the question of his
continued existence. "How can I be here?" he questioned
the raven still before him.

Cocking its shiny black head at him curiously,
the bird answered with a softer call. Dante looked at the
creature before him in wonderment that it was still
perched before him. Shaking his head slightly until he
realized that the motion caused him dizziness, Dante
then chose to try and stand. The raven retreated only
slightly as it continued to watch.

The soldier chose to ignore the bird and turned to
the task of finding a suitable sword and shield to replace
those that he had lost. He also found a pair of animal skin
canteens and a couple of travel packs of food. Dante began eating ravenously. He had been famished. The
hunger was greater than any he could ever remember.

He tossed a few scraps towards the raven though
there was more than enough left here to feed it. Its
comrades had already started withdrawing now that even
their great appetites had been sated. His own hunger
was as well now from a less morbid version of dinner.

The task before him had to be a return to Castle Trea and to find out if any of the others had made it back
to warn the king. Having eaten, the man found his
strength returning quickly. Dante began picking his way
through the masses of dead. It was a disheartening
experience. He found many a friend lying broken and
often picked over by the scavengers. The body of General
Batist was found near the rear of the battle surrounded
by his personal guard.

Dante shook his head. The man had refused to flee though his command was being torn apart before
him. Dante considered such an act foolish. The General
should have retreated to the castle to warn the king.
There was nothing to be gained by losing such an
important man. His pride had caused the superb soldier
to die which was a shame since Batist had been a
renowned strategist and tactician. In the face of such a
loss, Dante guessed that he had been unwilling to admit
defeat.

Picking up his pace as he finally was clear of the
main killing field, Dante rushed as quickly as he could
manage. The castle was nearly twenty miles south. If he
could get there soon enough, the soldier could prepare
the king for what his troops would be facing.

Walking all day, eventually Dante spotted smoke
ahead of him. A dark flash and the soft rustle of wings,
alerted him to the raven's presence again. It had followed him this far oddly enough. Perhaps it was still certain of Dante's death and had chosen him as its future meal, he
thought wryly. But as the bird soared on ahead towards
the smoke, Dante realized that the bird would have
something else to feed on first.

The bird had disappeared long ago, but Dante
knew that the creature would be waiting ahead for him
though he had no reason for such odd behavior. The
warrior followed the road as best he could and before
long he found the source of the smoke.

A small village, through which the Certen army
had passed only a day ago, was now a smoking ruin. As
he entered the outskirts of the town, Dante could smell
the death before him even as he had on the battlefield.
Animals and scavenger birds were here as well. Most
scattered at the approach of the man. The brazen raven
appeared before him in the road and turned to him with a
cry.