A Mage's Power (Journey to Chaos) (52 page)

“I wouldn't be so sure . . . you think I'm in the contest to
win
.”

“You're not?”

Kallen munched a cracker. “I didn't say that.”

“Yes, you—” Talking with this girl was giving him a
headache. “Why are you in the contest?”

“I want you in the contest. You're fun.”

“What does th—” Eric stopped again, but this time it wasn't
of his own will. Kallen leaned over the table and kissed him.

A ripple in his mind; stones skipping across water. Light
and warm; deeper; sinking. Puzzle pieces tentatively approaching, connecting.
Deeper and deeper until a surface. It was gone.

 Kallen was back in her seat and smiling. There was not a
hint of smug amusement; this smile was true happiness. It was meant for a dear
friend she hadn't seen for years. Eric felt the same and it made him all the
more confused. Then, Kallen pulled out a camera.

“You make the funniest expression when startled!” She spun
to the kitchen and yelled, “Can I get a waiter over here?” She looked back at
Eric. “You want anything?”

While they waited, they had a lively conversation about
their shared travels. Eric expected her to brag endlessly about the wonders
she'd seen but she was strangely quiet. She did speak of them but was more
interested in her companion's. When he mentioned Kyraa, she asked about the
Altar of Rebirth. When he nodded, she asked if he found a crystal like the one
on her staff.

“Why do you ask?”

Kallen clapped her hands and revealed her own. “They're
special, these crystals . . .” Again, Eric noticed the grey light; the same
color as Dengel's soul mist. “They can be used as amplifiers and storehouses
for magical power. I've been looking for another, but . . . no luck yet.”

“Well I
did
find one, but I traded it for something
else.”

“I see . . .” She didn't sound the least disappointed.

Dinner ended and so did dessert, leaving both mages stuffed
and satisfied. They briefly argued over who would pay until they agreed to
split it. Kallen said goodbye and wished him luck. It was only after she was
gone that Eric realized:
This is the closest I've ever had to a date!

After his stage performance, Eric thought he'd seen the most
mundane application of magecraft imaginable, but it was world series soccer
compared to The Third Challenge.

“The Royal Magical Fabric Stitching Competition will now
begin!”

This is servant's work . . .
Dengel said moodily.
It
is beneath my skill and knowledge . . .

His protests were much louder the previous night. Pride
demanded that Eric refrain from entering it at all, as he couldn't bear to take
part even as a passenger, then his pride changed its mind and demanded that he
win. All night he insisted Eric practice magical spinning and sewing and
weaving, etc.

Of course, one night wasn't enough. His thread was durable,
but he lacked the speed and practiced ease of the students. If that weren't
enough of a handicap, Getis kicked his loom, tangling the threads and forcing
him to start over.

“Five more minutes!” the judge called.

Eric scrambled to make up for lost time, which naturally led
to one mistake after another. At the fourth one, he blacked out.

“Time's up!”

His eyes shot open. Everyone else was finished. He panicked,
thinking Darwoss would exploit this failure to expel him from the competition
all together. Yet, his own design was also finished; sloppy and embarrassing
but finished.

What happened? I blacked out and—

I believe the term is 'zoned out'. You were so focused,
you blocked out everything else. Turn in the ridiculous piece of fabric so I
may begin wiping it from my memory.

Kasile politely snagged him after the results were tallied
so she could show her mastery of the Four Basic Elemental Spells. While they
were weak, Eric consented to teach concealment, so long as she continued to
practice elemental. During the lesson, he used their private line to ask her
about Magic Sight, but she refused to say why she needed it; “a tool for an
ongoing investigation.”

“Training in martial arts, studying magecraft, overseeing a
competition
and
investigating your own kidnapping?” He crept in the
darkness of her dark bolt. “You are a busy girl.”

A small dagger poked his back. “A sound work ethic is a job
requirement for the
Queen-To-Be
.”

Eric held his hands up in mock surrender. He'd seen her
coming, but decided to let her win. Ever since he cast Dark Veil, his night
vision grew better every day. He asked Dengel, but the dead mage refused to say
anything; Basilard told him it was “an Otherworlder thing” and therefore not
Kasile's fault. Nevertheless, she would think it was and obsess over it and
Eric didn't want to add anything to her already overflowing plate. Her high
personal standards were why she took the Royal Trial so seriously.

He'd researched the “curse” and was shocked to learn that
many royals died during their trial. The family wouldn't exist today if those
royals didn't have siblings. Kasile's mother died in childbirth and her mother
was the one carrying royal blood. If she died, there would be no second chance.
The stress would crush a lesser person but Kasile used it as motivation; she
learned dark bolt, dark veil, and lupine baffler before the day was spent.

Eric dismissed the darkness. “No matter how fast you learn
you still need to practice.” The mist eagerly coiled in his hand. No spell had
been easier to learn than the dark bolt.

“I know and I do.”

“
And
it's possible to over-practice, which is
dangerous for your health.”

Kasile rolled her eyes. “I thought my father was at the
Common Council.” Despite the insult, Eric was happy. She would never be this
casual in public.

“Very funny.”

The Forth Challenge was more to Eric's liking: monster
fighting. The breeds were preselected to resist brute force and require
tactics. Naturally, tactical magecraft was taught at the academy.

Soldiers rolled their cages to the arena. These were
replacements for the last batch which escaped a month ago and were last seen at
the opening Joust, dead and rotting. Selen Esrah, Duke of Esrah, led the
investigation and his wife personally captured the next batch in time for the
challenge.

Eric chose a moderate monster: if he lost, he would be
expelled from the tournament, but a monster too weak could cost him his lead.
In the end, it didn't matter because Darwoss chose one for him and it was the
most powerful of the lot. It was also one that Dengel had in-depth knowledge
of: Romast had venom glands near its throat that could kill it if they were
pierced in the right way. Even as it lay twitching, it poisoned him.

This was the fourth challenge Eric won thanks to Dengel. His
own merits counted for nothing in the first three and though his training kept
him alive in the fourth it was Dengel's mind that kept him from losing. He was
a puppet taking orders. In his mind, Getis shouted “Cheater” over and over
again.

The doors to the arena slid open and Kasile sauntered past,
chatting with Duke Selen. The novice mage activated his Magic Hearing and
discovered the duke warning the princess about an ambassador from Ceiha.

The island nation of Ceiha was the most intriguing part of
his nine-day library stay. Because of a long story at the dawn of the Avatar
Alliance, mana didn't flow to the island and as a result, no one living there
could use magic. It was the only region on the planet with this affliction so
going there was like going to another world. Eric felt her skin scrawl just
thinking about the place. When she was finished talking with her adviser she
greeted her tutor.

 In the Dragon's Lair, he watched her demonstrate the final
concealment spells he himself knew. She learned them all in a matter of days.
It was enough to make him think she was self-taught until this point. “Today
I'll teach you Magic Sight.”

The Fifth Challenge of the New Scepter Magic Competition was
Eric's favorite. It suited his tastes as a practical mercenary and played to
his experience. In other words, old-fashioned fighting.

The Castle Stadium was a dome-like building a stone’s throw
from the castle itself. Salamander statues stood guard at the entrance and
phoenix flew across the walls. As the crowd entered the stadium, they passed
statues of warriors and paintings of battles. Above them, a golden sign
declared, “Hall of Honor: for those whose flame burns strong and true.”

 Like the rest of the building, the bleachers were fire
themed; the white seats were the front row and red the nosebleed section. The
sandy ground crunched under Eric's shoes. Three feet above the sand were iron
railings bearing protection runes. The arena itself was white marble and raised
five feet off the ground. Stairs on all sides led to the site of combat.

Eric figured Darwoss set the matches up so he'd fight Kallen
in the first round to ensure his defeat. Luckily for him, the drawings were
randomized and he faced an ordinary female student. Despite his experience with
tough girls: his teammate, the guild officers, Kasile, he had trouble bringing
himself to hit one. While he hesitated, she fired a mana bolt. He overcame his
inhibitions and deflected it. It beaned her in the head and she fell flat on her
back.

All the students were like that. They were smart and
powerful, but lacked experience. When faced with someone who survived mana
storms or monster dens they were routed. Every match until the semi-finals
ended as soon as it started if the name “Eric Watley” or “Kallen Selios” was drawn.

There Eric saw a familiar face. It had long silver hair, a
feminine face, and hateful eyes. This same face mistook him as a waiter and a
cheater, but now it saw Eric as he truly was; a foe.

“I was hoping for a chance to fight you,” Getis declared. “I'll
prove you don't belong here.”

“
Sure
you will.” With so many victories, it was hard
not to feel confident.

“Getis Darwoss vs. Eric Watley. Begin!”

“You may have the first move, Mr. Mercenary. I insist.”

Eric shrugged and fired a mana sphere. There was enough
willpower behind this one to transform it into a blue blur. Getis didn't move.
His staff hung limply in his sash. When the mana sphere approached, he swung
his right hand in a small arc and caught the sphere. Then, with the same
motion, he threw it back at Eric.

The mercenary deflected it with ease, but the second caught
him off guard. Getis had fired a mana sphere from his left hand immediately
following the return by his right. This second sphere cut clean through Eric's
barrier and nailed him in chest.

“There you have it; I overcame your defenses with a simple
one-two punch.” Getis mimed taking out and reading a book. “The instant a
projectile hits a barrier the surface ripples from the shock of impact and if a
second, stronger, projectile hits that same area within two seconds of the
impact of the first then the likelihood of the barrier shattering increases
dramatically. You
would
have known that if you were a student of the
Royal Academy of Magical Learning.”

With his own staff, he drew a rune in the air. It was
precisely three meters long and three wide; invoking one god or another and
describing the routines necessary for the spell's power and execution. Eric ran
over and smacked him. Getis fell sideways, stunned.

“That's how we do it at the
Mercenary
Academy.”

Grasping his side, Getis shouted, “How did—? You should be
incapacitated for at least a minute after a hit like that. It cramped your
solar plexus!”

Eric leaned forward with a grin. “Your professors didn't
teach you
Fighting Spirit
did they? It was my mentor's first lesson.”

“Pon Zi juq hu!”

Eric leaned back. “What's th GAAAH!”

Getis' incomplete rune discharged its power into him and the
pain it caused was far worse than any mana bolt. It distracted him long enough
for Getis to scramble to his feet and fire a second mana bolt at point blank.
Eric skidded several feet before stopping himself.

“Your mentor never taught
you
the art of air rune
construction, their utilization, or how to complete them with words in the
ancient language of the phoenixans. He is a thug. A two-bit ha-- . . .”

He trailed off. His eyes dilated. His breathing stopped. His
entire body froze.

Eric glared. “No one insults my mentor.”

“Watley!” Darwoss shouted. “Release my son or I will
disqualify you!”

Eric blinked and Getis shivered.

“Evil Eye . . .” he said in a tone reserved for nightmares. “Only
a
Mercenary
would—”

Eric fired a gust of wind, but Getis parted it and shot a
fireball the size of a mini-fridge. Eric countered with a waterball and the
resulting steam enshrouded the arena. Marble cracked and broke free as Getis
chanted a rockball and threw it at Eric. The mercenary blew it away along with
the steam. The two mages Rock-Paper-Scissored through all ten elements and back
to fire. This time Eric simply dodged and cast a rock spell between his legs.
The noble screamed extra girly.

“You . . .you . . .
dare
. . .”

“
Mercenary.”
Eric pushed his staff head into Getis'
chest. “This battle is a bore . . .” Air currents gathered on the point of his
staff. “Show him the door! Wind Hand!” The air currents formed a ethereal hand
that pushed Getis out of the arena. Eric was so elated he couldn't resist a one-liner.
“Leave the battlefield to the professionals, schoolboy.”

“Winner, Eric Watley.” Getis staggered to the bleachers and
Kallen took his place. “This is the final match: Eric Watley vs. Kallen Selios.
Begin!”

 Instantly, Eric sailed from the arena. He reached the exit
before Getis.