The Sorcerer's Ascension (49 page)

“Are they going to make me leave the Academy?” Azerick asked, suddenly very concerned.

“I don’t think so. You show great leadership skills. It may be that they will transfer you to the Martial Academy, or the Scholar’s Academy, if that suits you more. Would you like that?

“I guess it would be better than leaving the Academy altogether, although it’s not what I really wanted. I wanted to be a wizard. I like magic and everything I read and what little I could perform feels right, but it just feels like I’m doing it wrong somehow.”

“The Headmaster is going to make his decision after spring festival. I’ll see what I can do to have you transferred to—,” He broke off suddenly hearing a scratching sound near the ceiling. “What the devil is that?” Allister exclaimed, looking up at what appeared to be a large metal spider with a bunch of feathers coming out of the back of its thorax instead of the usual bulbous abdomen.

The construct’s body, not including the feathers, was about the size of a man’s hand and clung to the ceiling by its eight metal legs, swishing its feathered rump back and forth.

 
“Oh, that’s just a toy I made to help keep the spider webs off the ceiling and do some dusting. Rusty used to burn the webs off, but last time he set his pillow on fire and I feared for my books."

“How did you make it? What powers it? How long does it stay animated?” Allister inquired, rapidly firing off questions at the surprised apprentice.

“I collected a bunch of metal scrap from the Academy blacksmith, had him make me a few things that I couldn’t shape myself, put it together and infused it with one of my minor spells,” answered as if the entire concept was no more spectacular than cooking oatmeal.

“But animating objects is very powerful magic, runes must be inscribed and it takes very high level spells to create even the crudest of golems,” the old magus asserted.

“I read about golem creation when I was thinking about making it, but like you said, even this simple thing was way beyond my ability to make that way. So instead of permanently animating it like a true golem, I just used ink to write the commands on its body and infused the metal with a spell. I figured all magic is energy so if I cast a lingering spell onto it in the right way it could use the spell as a temporary energy source instead of a permanent enchantment spell. I use a light spell to power it since it is one of the easiest and longest lasting spells I know. It will keep going for about a day before I have to recharge it.”

“But it shouldn’t work like that. A light spell is a light spell; that would be like using it to start a fire. It is light and that is all it can ever be,” the old wizard insisted.

Azerick just shrugged his shoulders not really understanding or caring how it worked just that he was able to do it.

“This changes everything, lad. When the Headmaster hears of this, I’m certain he’ll let you stay. I will insist on it. We will figure out why you have a problem with the higher spells eventually. Maybe you are a specialist, an artificer, although even they need to be able to learn the powerful enchantment spells and rune inscribing. I just don’t know right now, but I’ll get to the bottom of it I promise you,” Allister said resolutely.

Once Magus Allister left him alone again, Azerick decided to go walk around the Academy and think about what the wizard had said. Could he be an artificer? Could he be one of those rare wizards able to craft items and imbue them with powerful enchantments? The idea did not sound half-bad. He enjoyed reading his engineering book and making things with his hands. Truly gifted artificers commanded a great deal of respect, often asked to make things of wonder and power for kings and nobility.

Azerick heard the sounds of striking objects. He looked around and saw that his wanderings had taken him back to the martial training grounds. A young man a few years older than Azerick was swinging away on a practice dummy in the large sand-covered courtyard. The young fighter saw Azerick watching him, turned, raised a sword in salute, and started walking towards him.

“Hey there!” he called out to the apprentice.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going, I’m leaving,” Azerick said, not wanting any trouble.

“That’s ok, I don’t mind. Weapon Master Zorbrun isn’t here, just me. My name’s Alexander, Alex for short,” the young man said, extending his hand.

“Mine is Azerick,” he said, clasping the proffered hand in greeting.

“I’ve seen you quite a few times watching us. Are you interested in fighting with weapons?” Alex asked.

“A little, I did some training when I was younger, before I came to the Academy. In fact, if my casting doesn’t get any better soon they may transfer me over here.”

“Better than being kicked out I suppose, unless your heart’s desire was firmly set on being a wizard,” Alex said, mimicking Azerick's exact thoughts.

“I liked the idea, and I can cast a few spells, but I liked weapons training too so it wouldn’t be the end of the world if I was transferred. It would be better than constantly making a fool out of myself at the Magus Academy. So why aren’t you gone like everyone else for spring festival?"

“My family is gone on business and I don’t care to stay with my relatives much. They look down their noses at me because I’m my father’s bastard. My mother died giving birth to me so he took me in but shoved me off on the Academy as soon as he could. How about you, why are you still here?"

“I don’t have a family, my mother and father died a few years ago so I decided to stay here and practice too.”

“I guess we’re a bit of a pair then aren’t we? You want to do some sparring? Maybe I can teach you a few things in case someone jumps you and you can’t get a spell off,” Alex offered.

“Sounds great, let’s do it.”

Alex got Azerick some padded armor and a dulled sword. The two boys squared off and began exchanging blows. Alex was by far the stronger and more experienced of the two but he complimented the young wizard's skill while suggesting improvements. By the end of the match, both students were tired but Azerick was the most sore, having received several bruises from the other’s sword. Azerick had only managed to land two hits and those likely would not have proved lethal or even incapacitating in a real fight unless they turned septic and he died of infection.

“I’ll be here tomorrow if you want to go at it again,” offered Alex.

“Sure, that sounds good, but next time I would like to try the staff.”

“I’m not much for staff work, more of a farmer’s weapon than a fighter's, but I guess it’s only fair to give you the advantage if you know how to use one. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Azerick bid farewell and walked back to his room, his spirits buoyed by making a new friend and enjoying the feeling of practicing with a weapon again.

He spent the next morning practicing his spells before heading to the weapon’s yard after lunch. There was only one cook left on the grounds so he made a sandwich out of some pork and cheese. He wrapped a second one up in cheesecloth and set out to his weapons training appointment. Alex was already there warming up when he arrived. Alex had missed lunch since no one bothered to ring the bell for meal call and took the offered sandwich with thanks. Once he finished eating, they set up for their next duel.

“Don’t you want to put on your armor before we get started?” Alex asked as he grabbed up his own staff.

“No, I’m going to try it without it,” Azerick replied.

“Pretty confident with the staff are you? We’ll see how you feel after I give you a few more bruises,” Alex said with a good-humored laugh.

The two fighters went at it, their staves sending clacking echoes across the courtyard. Alex was obviously not nearly as skilled with the staff as he was with the sword, and Azerick’s preference of the weapon put them on nearly even footing in the fight. However, Alex was still bigger and a more experienced fighter and managed to slip a blow through his opponent’s defense, but instead of feeling the satisfying slap of wood against the younger boy’s ribs his staff was deflected slightly and bounced off with a dull thump that was hardly even noticed by his opponent.

“What the…?” Alex called out in confusion.

Azerick took advantage of Alex’s momentary distraction and slipped in a blow of his own, the wood cracking against the young man’s side. Alex let out a grunt of surprise and pain and tried to bring his defenses back on line but Azerick had momentum now and took advantage of it.

The younger student thrust, swung, and swept the ends of his staff at the larger foe; pushing him back on his heels into a defensive withdrawal. Azerick was finally able to overcome Alex’s defense and landed a solid thrust into his midsection. The young fighter doubled over with a great gasp of breath before Azerick hooked his heel and flipped him onto his back and pressed the butt of his staff to his throat.

“I yield, I yield,” Alex cried out laughing with whatever breath he was able to get. “Not a bad job for a spell slinger. Speaking of which, I should have landed that blow to your side. What did you do?”

“I cast a spell that gives me the same protection as a decent set of armor without the restricted movement.”

“Isn’t that kind of like cheating?” Alex asked, giving him an accusing look.

“It’s a skill I happen to posses. I don’t think it is cheating any more than your advantage in size and skill.”

“I guess not, but next round I think I’ll go back to my sword. What about you?”

“I’m sticking with my staff; it feels the most natural in my hands.”

Alex went and retrieved his training sword while Azerick caught his breath and waited. Once he was ready, they squared off again. The next match went similar to their first day with Alex giving Azerick tips and landing bruising blows even through his magical armor. Unlike their first bout however, Azerick was able to get a few good blows in himself this time, his increased skill at the staff compensating a bit for his foe’s much greater skill in sword handling. By the end of the day, bruises covered both exhausted students exhausted.

They kept up their sparring matches for the rest of the spring festival break. Both boys took great delight in honing their skills, but it was obvious that Azerick made the most improvement in his fighting skill. By the end of the two weeks, their bouts often ended in a draw, neither one able to dominate the other.

Azerick was enjoying a quiet day of reading in his room when Rusty busted into the room.

“I’m back. Did you miss me?” a smiling Rusty asked.

“I’m not sure. Who are you again?” Azerick teased, trying to look confused.

“Very funny, so what did you do while I was gone? Did you go to spring festival?”

“I went one day with Alex but stuck around the Academy the rest of the time.”

“Who’s Alex, I’m gone for two weeks and you trade me out for a new best friend huh?” Rusty asked, feigning jealousy.

“He’s in the Martial Academy, we sparred almost every day.”

“Oh no, and a metal head at that; you, sir, are a vile fiend!” he cried as he flopped onto his bed.

“You will just have to get used to sharing me, best get over it. I am far too special to limit myself to just one friend. Restricting the pleasure of my company to just one friend reeks of selfishness of the highest magnitude and I’m far too giving a person for that,” Azerick shot back, playing Rusty’s game.

“Well, I guess I can’t hold it against you too much considering what I did while I was on holiday,” Rusty said with an air of mystery. “Well, aren’t wondering what I did?” he demanded when Azerick did not ask.

“No, not really.”

“Oh you have turned evil, evil and vile. Well, I’m going to tell you anyway. I met a girl,” Rusty said, practically bouncing around the room.

“A girl, really, where?” Azerick asked suddenly interested.

“At spring festival of course. Her name is Colleen, she has long blond hair, beautiful, smart, and she smells great.”