Battle Mage Visions (A Tale of Alus Book 12) (68 page)

              The other pairs tired. One of the teachers called a halt as a sword caught a shirt slicing the material cleanly. The young man with the torn shirt hugged his opponent briefly knowing he owed his life to the other who had barely pulled his swing enough to avoid killing his friend. The students and teacher spoke as they walked towards the little door and commented on what had gone wrong. The sound of blades clanging continued and a new pair came into the courtyard followed by their watcher before the last of the early morning groups retreated inside to contemplate their performances.

              The thirteenth man shook his head free of sweat as it threatened to drip into his eyes. The invisible opponent smiled and backed the young man off with an invisible thrust that only the two could see. The dance went on.

              A door opened in the eastern wall. The sun had risen nearer to noon. The grey dripped and danced without seeing three men looking in from the doorway. Quiet laughter and talking wafted in with the singing of finches and chirps of sparrows. One dressed in a white robe trimmed with red points spoke and the others laughed again. The grey saw only his opponent and the dance goes on.

              The three are joined by a fourth. His trim is also red like his freckled cheeks. He comments on the grey and is again greeted with laughter. Stepping further through the doorway, the freckled blond chants a short phrase and conjures with his hands briefly before thrusting his palms at the ground. Dust rolls quickly in a small ball straight for the young man in grey.

              An explosion of dust jumped up nearly at the feet of the swordsman. The grey stumbled and spit dust. A hand wiped at the dirt stinging both eyes as laughter carried to a now attentive young man.

              "Ha ha, Sebastian," the young wizard called jeeringly to the half blinded young man. "You call yourself a battle mage? What good is all this training if you can't see, boy?"

              "Magnus, you jerk!" the boy in grey snapped and sheathed his weapon into plain, leather scabbard. "You just ruined my exercise. I hope that you're proud of yourself."

              The man in white glanced to his friends with a smile and replied, "As a matter of fact, I am. You know something though, I just don't get why you so-called battle mages need such a nice courtyard to play in. I mean really, the real soldiers don't have these kinds of courts. They go outside or behind the kitchens or something, but here we real mages have to hear all your banging back here day after day and for what I ask you? This could be a pretty nice garden if we let some of our nature and earth mages in here. Sounds good actually." He turned to one of the others with a blue stripe instead of red. "Make a note, Linus. I think maybe Arrimus or Mishael might enjoy the challenge, don't you?"

              "Like the founders would allow you to do such a thing, Magnus," Sebastian replied with a frown of annoyance. Both students knew that the young wizard was just making idle threats, but the comment still rankled.

              The wizard shrugged, "Maybe not now, but one day they'll see that your kind aren't worth all this effort. After all, it's not like you're truly in a wizard's class. A real mage could shatter those little swords of yours and any wimpy magic that you can barely force up. By the gods, I just don't understand why we have to put up with you all.

              "I say let's put you where you'll do some good. The infantry or maybe just the cooks. What do you have to say about that, Sebastian?"

              With a look of calm that nearly dripped with ice, the man in grey answered firmly, "The history of the last eighty years would prove you wrong. It was the battle mages and soldiers protecting you wizards that even let you survive long enough to use your fancy magic. We have our own. It’s quick, effective, and has killed a lot of the Dark One's creatures over the years."

              "Bah, that's only partially true and besides any real soldier can say that much. Bring on a horde of kiriaks or armored viles and it’s the wizards that you'll be crying to save you all."

              The other student battle mages and instructors had stopped and taken note of the conversation. Frowns ringed the group as they slowly formed up only a few paces behind Sebastian. The grey shook his head. "You regular wizards need us lowly battle mages and the soldiers as much as we need you. That's the whole point of White Hall, isn't it? This school isn't just filled with wizards or soldiers. We have a little of each type of soldier and wizard here so we can learn to appreciate each type and learn to work together."

              "Oh, peace and love for everyone," Magnus clasped his hands, tilted his head and fluttered his eyes in a girlish manner as he sang out in falsetto. "Bah!" his voice dripped with scorn as he continued, "Save it for someone who can't see the truth. I would wager my magic can defeat anything you can ever muster, Sebastian. Shoot we don't even need soldiers to fight for us when we can create our own from thin air." The mage's hands came together like he was holding a two-handed sword and suddenly a flaming blade shimmered into being. "Come on, Sebastian. You've been practicing all morning. If you're any good, you'll prove me wrong."

              "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."

Voran: The Night Guardian

Chapter 1- Guardian

The city, never fully asleep, always imbued with its own sound, quiets momentarily and only the sound of the wind whistling through metal and brick ways stands out. A sliver of the moon gives light in places, but doesn’t penetrate the alleys where monsters prey on the innocent. Stories of wild dogs and coyotes made the news, but it was often a different predator that would not come into the light that was most dangerous.

A woman’s voice cries out weakly.

A green bulb changes and the sounds of nearby cars drown out another sound, the sound of flesh tearing and blood dripping to the ground where it escapes the mouth of the predator.

The woman’s voice continues to call for help, but her strength is fading and her sounds seem to go unheard. The creature continues to draw out her blood, feasting. It has done this before, though he is still young and new to the feeding to sate his hunger. The predator that was once a man is now merely a vessel of desire for the only food that will stop his hunger, if only for awhile. The woman’s head lolls to the side, her energy spent as her life begins to fade.

The scuff from the roof top above draws the predator’s attention, though human ears could not have heard the faint sounds from nearly thirty feet away. The creature no longer needs to hunt, but he will not leave a witness to his deed. Still dripping blood from his chin, the creature leaps high upon the near wall and bounds from it across the alley to the far wall. A third leap brings it to the lip of the building and the creature searches for the source of the sound.

Night vision picking out heat sources, the creature quickly finds the man. The voyeur is calm. The murder and the monster which created it bring no fear or seemingly any emotion from the man. The creature should have wondered at such a thing, but its bloodlust clouded judgment. The man must die, it thinks and no other option presents itself.

Leaping forward to attack, the predator’s claws search for the man’s throat. It will rip the life from his body, or so it thinks, but as its claws slice the air before its target, the man moves with amazing speed side stepping the killing blow.

The predator feels pain from the side of its chest.

Glancing down, the creature sees blood dripping and bands of flesh and cloth swaying as it turns to face the man. Confusion etches it features. The mouth opens revealing extended incisors. The eyes are all white save its irises. Ears, nearly pointed, are oversized and acute of hearing. It hears the man’s heartbeat thrumming steadily.

It looks at the man more closely. Reason begins to override bloodlust and the creature notes four ivory claws dripping with his blood. Virtually gleaming white even in the wane moonlight, the claws extend unnaturally from the man’s right hand. There is a glint of steel from the man’s side. A sword rests upon his hip where the moon catches the metal hilt revealing the blade still sheathed.

Arrogance in the predator’s strengths, well beyond human now, convince it to attack again. It is a mistake. The clawed hand swipes across its chest tearing through bone and flesh alike. A back swing, as the predator stumbles back in shock, removes the head at the neck.

The heart is bared. It thumps, even as the body falls to its knees. The man calmly stabs the claws through a black diseased looking heart. Pierced, the heart stops and begins to burn. As the man steps back withdrawing his claws, the torso catches flame and soon the whole body is afire.

Knowing the creature is dead, the man steps to the edge of the building above the site of the kill. With a vampire’s corpse behind him, the man knows that the story may not be over. He jumps over the edge, but instead of injuring himself thirty feet below; the man seems to slow his fall. At half the speed he should be falling, the man touches down without harm.