Battle Mage: Forging New Steel (Tales of Alus Book 9) (66 page)

A young, blonde haired girl started at the newly arrived guests. Palose smiled at the young warrior with her spear in hand, but that smile faded as he noticed something different about Ulia.

“Where are your tattoos?” he asked feeling something wrong about the girl. She had been marked with the power of runes, though the girl was too young to have been fully initiated with every marking that her older brother had been. Still the defensive runes were missing and had been everywhere on the girl who wore little clothing on the island which was much warmer than anywhere in Southwall year round.

Her green eyes looked at her bare skin almost in shame, and replied, “They are just hidden, he said.”

“Who said that? Did a wizard come to do this to you or have the shamans changed their practices?”

The petite girl looked at Palose raising her tanned arm as if she still couldn’t come to terms with the change of her skin. “He did it. The young man who fought the black ships before you came. He freed the father of us all and took him away on another ship.”

“Was his name Sebastian?”

Her green eyes brightened at the name and she nodded, “That was it. I couldn’t remember. My father wouldn’t let me fight in the battle with those monsters in the black armor. He said I was too young, but I could guard the north end of the island if they made landfall here.

“I could only watch the ships sailing by attacking each other,” Ulia added turning to point towards the northern end of the island and the ocean beyond the beach.

Palose wanted to yell at the girl to focus, but she was barely more than a child. Yelling at girls never worked. They either seemed to scream in a frenzy or broke down to cry. He wasn’t certain which Ulia would be, but taking a breath to steady himself, the dark mage picked his words carefully, “Did Sebastian return by boat or did he use a gateway like mine?”

The dark mage had used the magic from his spells set within the warriors that he had resurrected to return to the island. It was as good as using the lodestones since his magic was part of the three rune warriors now also.

“He used the magic door like you, but he came alone,” the last words almost sounded like an accusation aimed at Sylvaine. Was she jealous? Palose wondered, but barely cared. The girl had been a casualty in the need to secure the gateway, a gate no longer there, he thought in annoyance.

Moving a little deeper into the wooded area at the north end of the island, Palose and Sylvaine were followed by the barefoot Ulia. She was so petite that the dark mage wondered how anyone could take her serious as a warrior, but somehow she had made the grade. Perhaps it simply spoke to the need for anyone available. Ulia may simply have not wanted to do other work also, he supposed.

His mind returned to the matter at hand as he ignored the younger girl. He pointed to a small clearing a couple hundred feet deeper into the trees than where his original set of stones had been planted. Sylvaine nodded and placed the new stones about eight feet apart.

“So he lives and has returned after all,” Sylvaine stated referring to the confirmation of Sebastian’s return from Ulia as the girl returned to him.

Nodding, Palose replied, “Well, that would also explain a few things.”

“Like?” the dark haired girl questioned with an air of surprise.

“It would be like Sebastian to move the portal north of the wall and give warning to the defenders of the Towers. If he can offer a surprise that will help Southwall, the mizard will do what he can to catch the enemy off guard.

“Then he healed those creatures from the battle and sent them straight to the chambers. Bas was too smart to try and attack Ensolus through the gate, but he sent Kolban the message. He wanted the emperor to know that Southwall can hit us where we live as well.”

“Could he have just reopened one of the portals made by the warlocks to escape or do you believe that he truly knows how to get to Ensolus?” the curly haired girl brushed a lock of dark hair from her eyes. Palose thought that her hair was actually getting curlier from the ocean air and increase in humidity.

Unfortunately her question was a bit of a snag in his mind. Kolban had asked nearly the same thing when Palose was less certain of the culprit involved. Did Southwall know how to find their general gates or was it just the luck of using one of the escape portals to reopen the connection? He didn’t know for sure, but the dark mage hadn’t told Kolban his beliefs. Whoever was assaulting his portals could very well have learned how to track the other kind of gates as well. They had been to Banosh and closed the greater gate while destroying his as well.

If Sebastian used mapping magic, all the gates of the empire could be at risk. Luckily, they employed guards to watch for intruders anyway, but this might be the first time that it wasn’t just for show.

“I don’t know,” Palose finally replied to her question, “but I think it is becoming a race to outmaneuver each other now.”

“Well, you might see your rival again then,” Sylvaine suggested with a shrug.

The dark mage nodded. It was a race against his rival once more. He would have to consult the library of Ensolus to discover new magic to destroy Sebastian once and for all.

“Let’s hurry and fix the other gates,” Palose said calling up the next portal to leave the young rune warrior, who quietly watched them go.

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Other books by Donald L. Wigboldy Jr.

From the Tales of Alus series:

The High King: A Tale of Alus

The Emperor’s Shadow War

Battle Mage: A Tale of Alus

Battle Mage: Winter’s Edge

Battle Mage: The Lost King

Battle Mage: Dragon Mage

Battle Mage: Dark Mage

Battle Mage: A Hero’s Welcome

Modern Tales:

Voran the Night Guardian

Standing Before Monsters

The Mermaid’s Chest

Where the story of Sebastian began:

Battle Mage: A Tale of Alus

Chapter 1- The Difference

             
The sun shone down upon the courtyard through a thin haze of fog still stubbornly sticking to the mid-morning air. Finches and sparrows chirped and sang from the nearby gardens or as they soared over the ten foot walls separating the Court of War from the neighboring gardens. White Hall and its accompanying towers loomed to the south of the long courtyard throwing shadows over much of the grounds below. The Tower of War was dark against the morning light and its shadow nearly touched the base of forty foot protective walls.

              Above the sounds of the birds, multiple clangings could be heard as sword met shield or sword on sword. In the Court of War more than a dozen men worked at perfecting their art. Four pairs of grey shirted men exercised their skills against one another as four older men in black coached or quietly watched their students at play. A thirteenth young man, also of the grey, performed a dance with his blade.

              Wind flowing up Hill moved to the Bear stands Alone. Iron Jacket met Thrush from the Thicket. Maneuver after maneuver followed as he pictured his invisible opponent moving to counter his own. Back and forth he fended and struck. Press an advantage then retreat as the momentum shifts. Protect and attack. Force and defend.

              Dark blond hair began to drip with sweat. The grey shirt darkened. Tanned arms glistened and his palms tried to moisten and make his grip tenuous. A shift of the leather coated handle scraped away most of the moisture and stiffened the grip as he shifted back to the better hold once again. Tirelessly the young man fought his invincible foe. His breathing came through parted lips as lungs called for more air.

              Two of the pairs picked up towels to dab at damp brows as the men in black gave comment on their performance. Chuckling heralded some comments. Frowns followed others. The men walked back in White Hall through the small door at the base of the Tower of War. The other men continued work as a new trio, one black and two greys followed much the same as those before.

              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."