Battle Mage: Winter's Edge (8 page)

             
“Dance,” the word uttered from his lips quietly as he played with the original use of the spell. This time he wasn’t calling forth energy from the ground, at least not to create electricity. His mind reached through the wood grasping for the iron, but even then it wasn’t just the mage’s will alone that was being used. The wood’s natural channels, though a bit worn from the earlier experiment, were still intact and it was through these that Sebastian, the mizard, pulled the power of the earth to join with his own meager strength. His magic touched the iron reminding it of the life it held as well. Though not organic as he or the branch were, the metal had been part of the earth and as part of it even the iron had an energy of its own.

             
Cold metal that would have to be fired to be melded to a blacksmith’s will seemed impossible to move to most men. Halthor and his men watched curiously trying to figure out what the mage, eyes closed for concentration, could possibly hope to achieve with the cold iron. If Sebastian had asked, the smith or his apprentices could have worked iron bands around the staff for strength. They would have heated it and worked their own brand of magic to create the shape needed, but here they stood watching and wondering what he could possibly have in mind.

             
In the relative dimness of his corner of the room, Halthor noted a slight glow coming from the metal, wood and mage. The pale glow seemed uniform between all three. As Sebastian sought to become one with the wood and iron, his magic gave off the glow and he could feel the wood trying to take in the iron like his lungs would breathe in air. The iron closest to the wood began to shift as if alive in response to the call.

             
Gasps from the apprentices could barely be heard in the loud room and the mage missed it all as his attention remained focused on his task at hand. Halthor’s eyes widened in shock as the iron began to move. Like water, the metal pulled slowly towards the end and from there into the staff itself. The wood seemed to thirst for the iron like water and the mizard continued to channel and let the two elements meet and then combine becoming one. The strength of the wood returned tenfold. He felt power from the earth working with the staff and energizing both it and the mage. The iron was nearly fully absorbed, but the staff was not complete with just that lump of metal.

             
Reaching for something in the earth that even Sebastian had not known existed, rock seemed to shift deep beneath their feet. Energy continued to shift the metal and wood as the two seemed to find a natural coexistence with each other and seemed to almost become something else entirely. Even as the mage would have thought the spell he had originally intended to simply strengthen the wood for a stronger staff would end, it seemed to nearly control him as the element from beneath the earth slid free. Imperceptible to the smith and his men still agape in awe, the final component drew towards the magic.

             
The end of the staff closest to his hand released some iron as if the wood was sprouting leaves made from the new water component. Sebastian felt the shift as it formed in the palm of his hand moving of its own accord. Finally the new growth felt complete and the mage could release the power of his spell. Sebastian’s magic diminished but the power inside the staff remained and he could feel magic within as if it was alive.

             
Wiping his sweaty brow, the mage looked on his new staff. The main shaft had turned black except where marbled highlights of the wood’s original brown grain remained. It seemed to form a pattern that appeared nearly readable to Sebastian; he followed the patterns up the length. Like a tangling of small leaves, the end appeared to be nearly completely iron wrapped around a palely gleaming gem. The coloring of the piece gathered from the depths shocked him. Pale and yellow like a diamond one moment, it would slowly shift to pink and then to violet before receding back towards diamond again.

             
A low whistle of admiration left Halthor’s lips bringing Sebastian’s attention back to the men watching him. With an apologetic smile, the mage bowed his head slightly, “I am sorry, sir, but I seem to have used up your iron. What do I owe you for the stock? It appears that I need to keep it now after all.”

             
Waving off the idea of payment, the smith said, “No, falcon, that is quite all right. Just seeing such an amazing work is payment enough. I thought that I knew metals and how to work them. Such strange affinity you have I would never have believed, but answer me, young mage, how did you do such a thing? I’ve never seen even a wizard with such a magnificent piece. In fact, if I didn’t know better, I’d almost think this staff was alive.”

             
Looking at the staff again, Sebastian knew what the man meant. It did feel alive, warm, and yet for all its previous existence, the mage felt like the staff was also a part of him as well. Propping it against the wall so that his own magic didn’t interfere with what he sensed, the mage felt for the staff and for any magic within it. Even from several feet, he could feel an energy within it that was all its own. The gem still slowly pulsed with life and there was now a bond between them. Opening his hand towards the staff, it seemed to leap across the distance to him. A small glow from his palm as it reunited with him signaled even more of a strangeness to their bond.

             
The smiths had all stepped back in amazement at the strange feat, but not knowing magic, they were even less surprised than the mage. The common folk expected strangeness from magic users, and having never seen such a thing meant little to the uninformed.

             
Sebastian, on the other hand, was completely dumbfounded by what he had created. Calling the staff to him had required no use of his magic. It had come of its own will and yet it was also his will calling it as well.

             
Halthor moved closer to inspect the intricacies of the mage’s staff in wonderment. “Such an amazing thing.” Looking at the mage with a glance of meaning, he added, “It should have a name. All great weapons have found names, either from their makers or the ones who wield them. Will you name it, master mage?”

             
“Bairh’loore,” the name seemed to escape his lips before he could think.

             
The smith looked perplexed. “What kind of name is that?”

             
Shaking his head, Sebastian replied, “I think it means Life’s Blood, though how I know that I can’t even begin to say.”

             
Dismissing it as more magical mystery, the smith nodded replying, “Life’s Blood, now that I can believe.” The man traced his fingers along the staff feeling the patterns of iron and wood. Sebastian could feel the touch strangely enough from Bairh’loore and wondered if anyone were to ever try and steal it if the staff would let him know that too.

             
When the blacksmith let his gaze run to the head of the staff, he frowned uncertainly. “I wonder where this stone came from. It’s warm to the touch. The staff is also actually. Truly this is a mage’s staff, I think. I doubt any craftsman could begin to fabricate it’s like with a mere forge. No wonder you didn’t ask for any help from us. We could have bound the wood in iron, but this seems to be wood and iron binding each other. Only magic can do something like this,” he acknowledged.

             
Sebastian went to gather his leather bag and took a quick swallow of water. Strangely, he wasn’t feeling a hunger as large uses of magic usually left him. The thirst was merely from the warmth of the smithy. The mage looked at the staff laying beside his pack as he drank in the wonder. Thinking of the process, he almost felt like it was less of a staff than something he had imbued with a piece of himself, the earth, iron and his strength. It was like he had passed some test that he had not even known existed.

             
As Sebastian turned to leave, the mage sternly lectured the men not to speak of this magic. He left it implied that to defy his wishes meant unspeakable horrors in their futures. The mage didn’t know what kind of horrors, but then again neither did they. Halthor and his men had swallowed lumps of worry in their throats and some fear revealed itself in their eyes. They had witnessed strange and powerful magic and dared not guess what would happen should they let slip what they had seen.

             
Sebastian figured the ambiguous threat would buy him some time until he could figure out exactly what the creation of the staff truly meant.

              Life’s Blood remained in the mizard’s room much of the time after its initial creation. Sebastian didn’t want all the questions that would inevitably come from having the new piece. It was too unique and if he sported the staff not only would the battle mages be storming down his door to find out this new magic, he had a feeling the true wizards would be even worse.

             
The remainder of the morning had been spent in training with the sword. Though the mage could call up a sword of fire or ice, the falcon trained with a typical blade with several other falcons and apprentices in the yard. The weight of the steel was more important to strengthening his arm than showing off any magical skills. Battle mages were often referred to as being just a little more than a soldier. Their talents for swordsmanship and other weapons were encouraged and nurtured by their mentors, and Sebastian knew this made them not only more than soldiers but something more than a wizard in truth. Strength of magic not withstanding, a battle mage in a duel was likely to destroy a true wizard. Trained to magic not the sword and shield, even the fire wizards who were considered the lead guild for war, could not call up their magic swiftly enough to fight a well trained battle mage up close. In truth, the mage wondered if a soldier could beat a wizard similarly, but that said, if a wizard had time, they were easily able to destroy armies of lesser soldiers.

             
That was the nature of Southwall’s forces. For all the minor squabbles and dislikes of each other, all three needed one another. That was why battle mages trained like any other soldier and learned their limited magic like any wizard. A blend of both and different from each, battle mages were bred for battle and defended both of their allies with their unique skills.

             
“My turn,” the cadet known as Tillwen stated. The cadet was younger than Sebastian by four years and was one of those young men who envisioned themselves invincible. It was that attitude that would take him far or end his career as a low ranking falcon depending on how he let it lead him. When caution was lost or care for his friends was pushed aside for personal gain, most often Sebastian would see such a person struggle in the falcon organization.

             
Meeting the boy’s enthusiasm with a salute, Sebastian allowed the sparring to happen. It was his fourth partner without a break and soon the falcon would make himself rest even if he thought his body felt fine. Too much and a man would start to have his performance wane or he’d let himself mentally lose focus. That was when people got hurt.

             
Though younger at sixteen, Tillwen had Sebastian by three inches of height and at least that in reach. His skill was good. If it wasn’t, Sebastian doubted that he would have been given a chance at the wall. Though it usually took more than one trip to get promoted, the appointment was usually a sign of the final tests they would need to graduate. The mizard was one of the rare ones who received a promotion on his first trip, though it had been a trial by fire during the past summer.

             
Watching the face of the brown haired youth, Sebastian noted green eyes of innocence. Hair long enough to tie into a tail, Tillwen was fresh faced. This young man had not seen death yet, nor combat. The cadet let his gaze flick to the falcon’s face and noted his unflinching eyes. Green eyes then flicked back to watch for the falcon’s blade. The cadet still didn’t have the control to be a falcon, the mage decided sadly. Sebastian could see that even if he was only recently raised up to falcon. A trained swordsman of true skill didn’t watch the blade, he watched the man holding it.

             
A quick flick and a lunge took the cadet’s blade from his hand sending it flicking end over end to land point first in the earth still moist from the snow. Sinking through the first soft inch, the deeper earth was nearly solid from the permafrost letting the tip catch and leaving the sword standing up.

             
The cadet cursed. “How did you do that? You weren’t even looking at my sword.”

             
“I watched your eyes. Until you’re able to read your opponent’s eyes you’ll never be ready, at least as a swordsman. I didn’t even have to see your blade. Watching your eyes told me exactly where it was and what you planned to do.”

             
The cadet retrieved his weapon. “Well, I guess the rumor that you’re one of the best isn’t a lie,” the younger man said with a smile that seemed forced. “I’ve beaten falcons before by the way.”

             
Sebastian shrugged. “Being a falcon isn’t just about your sword arm. Besides there’s always someone better out there somewhere. Usually it’s simply that you haven’t met them yet.”

             
The younger man laughed. “A lecture from the mizard? I’m sure you’re as good as most say, so I’ll just let it rest and train some more. One day you’ll see.”