Warlord Arcanist (Chapter 10)

I'm at DragonCon, but here is chapter 10 of Warlord! I hope you enjoy!

CHAPTER TEN

KNIGHTMARE MAGIC

It had taken me a long while to learn my knightmare magic. Knightmares were so rare, that most people knew little to nothing about them. It had made learning my evocation, manipulation, and augmentation difficult.

“I improved upon my terrors,” Evianna said as she held out her hand. “Do you want to see how powerful my evocation has become?”

I glanced back at Ryker, Zelfree, and MOS. They were sufficiently far away to be spared Evianna’s untamed terrors. With a sigh, I returned my attention to Evianna. “Show me.”

She grinned and then narrowed her eyes. After a second of concentration, her magic erupted from her body. It wasn’t visible, but I felt it much like I could feel heat radiating off a fire.

Her magic gripped my chest and slithered down my spine. Although I tried to fight it, her fear-inducing powers clawed at my imagination. Images fluttered across my vision. I staggered backward a few steps and grabbed at my forehead. When I closed my eyes, I thought I’d be able to shield myself from the magic, but I had been mistaken. It only made the images clearer.

Years ago, I had experienced knightmare terrors. Back then, the images had been of my family dying. Illia. Gravekeeper William. I couldn’t save them. And it was my fault.

But this time…

I…

My body burned like a pyre, and a field of blood and bones stretched out before me. Although the corpses were mangled and dismembered, my terror-induced hallucination included the knowledge of each individual.

Gregory Ruma’s wife. The first person I had killed.

Ryllin. The griffin I had to slay.

And also…

Zelfree.

Adelgis. Fain.

Atty. Zaxis. Illia.

Karna. Evianna. My father.

I had killed them all with my magic—it raged out of control, and I couldn’t tame it in time. Their blood stained my clothing, my skin, and my soul. Shaken, I tried to step away, but all I found were more bodies. I half-stumbled on the bones of old acquaintances and friends.

It was me. I was the judgmentthat Terrakona always spoke about. I had destroyed everything because it was all tainted. Everything I had loved.

And then—before the terror-dream released me—I spotted a black dragon rising in the distance. A fearsome beast with scales of bluish-black, leather wings, antler horns, and a tail lined with spines.

The terrifying beast held Luthair in his clawed hand. With a flex of his muscles, he crushed Luthair, cracking his armor and shredding his cape. The broken fragments of the knightmare’s body disappeared like shadows exposed to light.

Somehow, I knew this was my fault. The guilt burned hotter with each second. I grabbed my clothing, but everything had become sticky and wet with warm blood.

“Volke?” Evianna said. “Volke?”

When I opened my eyes, I was on my back, staring up into the morning sky. No clouds—just the gentle pink of dawn streaking over the blue of day. Sweat dappled every inch of my skin.

“Are you… okay?” Evianna asked. She sat crouching next to me, her eyes wide.

“Yeah. I’m fine.”

“I told you I had improved my evocation. Powerful, right?”

“Very.”

“Aren’t you proud?” She grabbed my shoulder and playfully shook me.

I took a deep breath and then sat up. “Yes,” I muttered as I rubbed at my temple, “but you need to learn how to shape your evocation next. Right now, you’ll just affect people in the nearby area, but with some practice, you’ll be able to target foes and spare your friends, even if they were standing next to each other.”

“Did you do that with Luthair?” Evianna asked.

I gritted my teeth, the image of Luthair’s shredded cape still fresh in my mind. “Yeah…”

Evianna stood and then smiled. “I’ll work on it. But also, look! I improved upon my manipulation.” She waved her hand and moved the shadows all around us. They swirled and danced, and then rose up into a physical tendril that split into three others. The level of control was impressive, for how young an arcanist she was. “See?”

I got to my feet and nodded. “It’s pretty amazing.”

Evianna stood a little proud, and when she met my gaze, her cheeks flared pink. “I practice on my own time, in my bedroom.”

“What about your augmentation?”

She frowned and shook her head. “Well, that’s the one I’m struggling with. I mean, I understand the basic concepts, but…” Evianna narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms. “But it’s very common for arcanists to struggle with at least one of their magical abilities, thank you very much.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Oh…” She relaxed her posture and nodded. “Good. I just wanted to make sure you knew I was average or above average in all categories.”

I chuckled. “Don’t worry. I never think you’re below average.”

Evianna perked up and smiled. “Right?” She threw her white hair over her shoulder. “Good. Your opinion means the world to me, Volke.”

“Okay, but we should practice everything. I think if you have a better understanding, you’ll grasp your sorcery easier.”

“Okay.”

“Evocation is creating magic and throwing it out into the world. Manipulation is controlling the magic in things and objects in the nearby area. Augmentation is pushing your magic into something. Affecting it with your skills.” I rotated my head. “Illia’s augmentation causes things to teleport, because she’s pushing her rizzel magic into it.”

“I know that,” Evianna said, her tone heated. She huffed and then calmed herself quickly. “I’m not trying to be difficult…”

“It’s fine.” I motioned her close. Evianna walked to my side, and I grabbed her hand and placed it on my forearm. “It took me a while to figure out what knightmare arcanists augment.” With a chuckle, I said, “You can help others see in the darkness. It doesn’t sound like much, but it’s useful.” Then I pointed to her hand on my arm. “You need physical contact, like this. Then you should concentrate on your magic entering my body. Think of it like light streaming through a window.”

Evianna pulled her hand off my arm. She fidgeted for a moment, her eyes on the grass. “Well, why don’t we start with objects first? What happens when a knightmare augments something inanimate?”

I opened my mouth, but then I closed it again. It took me a long while before I managed to say, “Luthair and I never really tested the limits of our magic. We, uh, were never master arcanists. So… you know.”

Evianna stared at me with a frown. I didn’t know what else to say to her.

“Are you sure you’re okay, Volke?” she whispered. Then Evianna took my hand and held it close. She was cold. I closed my fingers around hers, trying to make sure she was warm enough. “I think you should probably rest some more,” she said. “You’re wan and sickly looking.”

With shallow breaths, I nodded. Perhaps she was right.

***

I paced my new room, from one side to the other, passing my desk and bed.

Luthair’s cape hung off the back of the desk chair. Ever since I had lost him, I had attempted not to dwell on his death.

I stopped pacing when I reached Luthair’s cape. After a shaky breath, I placed my hand on the cold silkiness of the magical fabric.

“We had a lot of good adventures together,” I said. Nothing replied, of course. The fabric shifted with my touch, but that was it. “I wouldn’t be the man I am today if it hadn’t been for you, Luthair. I still can’t believe we made it through so many close calls.”

The memories played in my mind’s eye, and I visualized every detail, from the fight with the plague-ridden gargoyle to the haunting halls of the world serpent’s lair. But when I opened my eyes, it was just me, in a strange new bedroom, with a piece of Luthair’s corpse wrapped in my fingers.

Silence descended into the room from all corners. When I swallowed, it sounded like a gunshot. What was I doing?

“Reality says you’re gone,” I whispered. “Logic says I’m talking to the air.” I pulled the cape from the chair. “But sometimes it feels like you’re still with me. Somehow. In my dreams, my thoughts, my magic…”

An odd scratching noise came from the window. I tensed and reached for my blade, half expecting the Second Ascension to leap into my room and attempt to kill me. After a moment, I took a deep breath and walked over. The scratching continued, but at a low and steady rate. My bedroom was on the second story of the manor house—who could possibly be scratching the glass?

I threw back the curtains.

The sight of a brilliant phoenix greeted me. His scarlet feathers glittered as he moved. Fire pulsed from his inner body, as though he were made from flame, and the feathers sprouted straight from the embers. His long tail feathers, flaring at the ends like a peacock’s, rustled in the late morning breeze.

I knew this phoenix. His name was Forsythe, and he had hatched on my home isle, after all. Forsythe’s gold eyes stared at me for a moment. Then he tilted his head and tapped on the glass with his ebony-black beak.

“Is everything okay?” I asked as I opened the windowpane.

Forsythe hopped into the inner sill, his talons just as black as his beak. When he moved, soot fell onto the floor, and embers fluttered out from between his feathers.

“Good morning, Volke,” he said, his voice regal. Forsythe held his head high. “Are you feeling well? Atty, Titania, and Zaxis were helping the Grand Apothecary with your injuries.”

“Atty and her phoenix?”

“Of course.” Forsythe puffed his feathers out, lighting up my room with an eldritch glow. “I helped, too, of course.”

“Thank you.”

With a hesitant hand, I patted Forsythe’s head. The phoenix leaned into my touch. I enjoyed the warmth—it was the exact opposite of Luthair’s cold power, but it reminded me of Terrakona, and the molten rock I could evoke.

“Are you here to get me for training?” I asked.

Forsythe nodded. “Yes. My arcanist wants you to meet him at the edge of the field, the opposite of your brother and Master Zelfree.” The phoenix blinked his golden eyes a few times, and then tilted his head in the other direction. “I can tell him you’re not feeling well.” He held up a taloned foot. “Or perhaps I can heal you a bit first?”

I nervously chuckled. “I’m fine.” I ran a hand down my chest. The only thing that would cure me would be sleep. “I can make it to the field.”

Forsythe nodded. Then he fluffed his feathers and swished his tail, dirtying my room with soot. “I’m sorry about Luthair,” he muttered.

“Uh…” I shook my head. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Volke, I just want to let you know that… on the Day of Phoenixes, when I first met you and Zaxis, a part of me knew you would make a wonderful arcanist. I thought you would be the one I would bond with.” He tilted his head back the other way. “I was always a little jealous of Luthair, to be honest. He had lost his first arcanist, but you saved him from a life of exile in a mire.”

Forsythe’s words caught me off guard. I tensed and then turned away, a little shaken by the moment. “Thank you,” I said, my voice forced. “But we don’t have time to reminisce. Let’s go meet Zaxis and Atty for evocation training.”

***

“I’m gonna teach you how to use your fire, so from now on, I expect you to call me master,” Zaxis said with a smirk.

I coughed and laughed at the same time. Then I held up a hand. “Never.”

“I’m gonna train you like no one has trained you before.” He grabbed at his bulging bicep. “Do you see this? I’m focused and determined. You wish you had a fraction of my dedication.”

Forsythe, his phoenix, stood a good ten feet away from us, his scarlet feather fluttering in the breeze. He chirped for his arcanist, singing like only birds could.

“I’m still not calling you master,” I said.

Zaxis glowered, his green eyes brilliant in the afternoon sun. “That’s just disrespectful, really. But you’ve always been like that.”

“We don’t need to argue,” Atty said. “Fire is my specialty. If anyone is a master, it’s me. But I’m not a petty tyrant who requires Volke to bend the knee.”

“I’m not a tyrant,” Zaxis said with a scoff. Under his breath he added, “Everyone is always so damn dramatic.”

Ignoring Zaxis’s complaints, Atty took a position at the edge of the field, both her arms out wide. Embers sprouted from the tips of her elegant fingers, and when she spun around, they created a ring of light that swirled around her.

The presentation wasn’t particularly relevant to combat, but I did enjoy the showmanship and display of fine control she had over her evocation.

“Feh,” Zaxis said with a dramatic shrug of his broad shoulders. “Watch this.”

He held up his fists. While I wielded a sword, Zaxis wielded copper knuckles. He gave me a confident smirk—the kind I’d be embarrassed to try—and then his knuckles shimmered and shifted in color. In a matter of seconds, the metal of his weapon superheated. Once they were white-hot, he punched the air. Each strike sizzled.

“See?” Zaxis asked.

Atty held up a hand. A pyre of flame gushed outward, nearly fifteen feet into the air. She held the powerful evocation for a second before allowing her magic to fade. She turned around and gave Zaxis a beat that look, one eyebrow raised.

“Who cares?” Zaxis said with a growl. “My way also breaks bones.”

“We can’t measure anything without a ruler,” I quipped. “So, let’s stop trying to compete, all right? I need help.”

Atty’s blue eyes grew wide. “Help? I thought we were just practicing your fire evocation.”

Instead of explaining everything, I decided to show them. I held out my hand and focused on my magic like I had before. The heat came so quickly, it startled me. Fire erupted off the sleeve of my button-up shirt and I patted at my clothing to put it out.

A small amount of molten rock oozed from the lines of my palm. It was about to spill from my body, but I caught the heated rock before it dropped onto Gentel’s shell. What would happen if her shell was burned? Would she even feel it? I didn’t want to find out.

“That isn’t fire,” Zaxis barked. He glared at glowing molten rock cupped in both my hands. “What’s wrong with you? You said fire and this is… well, it’s not fire.”

Atty frowned. “This isn’t what I was expecting. I think we’ll need Master Zelfree’s expertise.”

“You want to wait for him?” Zaxis glanced over to my brother and MOS. The giant ball of flesh and eyes transformed into a pile of black-furred rats. The rats tumbled outward, spreading across the shell. Zaxis huffed a laugh. “I think Zelfree will be busy for a bit.”

“I, uh, thought you might be able to help me control it,” I said, glancing down at my burnt clothing.

Zaxis wore crimson scale armor—a magical trinket—forged from the hide of a salamander. It was immune to flames and all forms of heat, which meant it wouldn’t spontaneously combust whenever he evoked too much of his fire.

When I glanced back at my own singed clothing, I knew I needed something like Zaxis. With Luthair, I had always had armor, but now I needed to craft something—or have someone craft it for me.

A piece of black obsidian had sprouted from my knuckle. I stared at it for a long time, uncertain of why this had happened.

Zaxis noticed my gaze and followed it to the odd, stone protrusion.

“What is that?” he asked. “When did it happen?”

“It’s a part of my evocation, apparently,” I muttered. “So, maybe if you guys have advice about that, too…”

Zaxis snorted and then grabbed my wrist. With all the gentle finesse of an elephant, he scooped up the molten rock from my hand and then hurled it out to the ocean. I watched it sail through the air, leaving a fine trail of smoke in its wake. When it hit the water, white smoke wafted from the surface and a harsh sizzle rang out over the waves.

My magma hadn’t burned Zaxis.

“The first thing you need to learn is respect for your flame,” Zaxis said.

I narrowed my eyes.

“It’ll consume everything around us, so you have to be mindful of that. Unlike your knightmare terrors—that you could shape—your fire will grow a will of its own. It’ll even continue without you, if you light the right things up.”

Atty nodded along with his words. “He’s right, Volke. Fire is a tool, but it’s also a force of destruction. Remember that as you train, you risk great damage to everything around you.”

“What do you two suggest?” I asked as I slid my wrist out of Zaxis’s grip.

Forsythe hopped forward, dropping soot as he bounded over the grass. When he drew near, he straightened his long peacock-like neck and stared up at me. “When I was a hatchling, I learned something important,” Forsythe said. “Burning logs dream of the forest. It means an accident can lead to regrets that can never be cured.”

I hadn’t thought about the gravity of the situation before, but it weighed heavily on my mind now. Of course I would need to be careful. My magic was far more powerful than anyone else’s here. What if I had accidentally burned a deep hole into Gentel’s shell? What would I have done then?

A loud yell ripped me from my thoughts. I whirled around on my heel and focused my attention on Ryker and Zelfree.

The black-furred rats were attacking them.