Firebrand

contemporary romance

Chapter 18: Something New in the Air

Something New in the Air

The thought of combat lessons still made Martel uneasy, though for a different reason than usual. He no longer felt worried about getting a beating during sparring, or that Reynard might humiliate him somehow. His leather armour helped with the former concern, and as for the latter, his teacher seemed content with ignoring him.

But it would be the first lesson he spent with Cheval. Two hours in the same arena where Martel had humiliated him. As the destruction of his star chart showed, the mageknight held a grudge.

The morning lesson, with the other novices, passed easily enough. Martel practised his shield to himself, and Reynard did not spare him a glance.

As afternoon came, Martel arrived at his second lesson with a hint of trepidation. He wore his leather armour under his robe, naturally, which helped a little. Yet he made sure, as soon as he entered the gymnasium, to spot Cheval and keep his distance.

A strange tension could be felt in the air, even so. The other mageknights, few as they were, talked among themselves while casting glances between Martel and Cheval. For once, the novice looked forward to Reynard arriving, so that the acolytes would have reason to begin training instead.

In full view, Maximilian crossed the arena floor to approach the brown-robed boy. "Hullo, Martel."

"Hey. Maximilian."

"Are you busy tomorrow?"

"No, except our astronomy class, of course."

"There is a fight in town. A mageknight fights a Tyrian berserker. Want to go?"

"Oh, sure." While perplexed at the invitation, Martel was not going to scratch a gift plough. "That sounds fun."

"Should be. It is in the forenoon. We will go after breakfast bell. Ah, here comes the old man. Time to swing hammers," Maximilian said as Reynard appeared, returning to the other acolytes.

While their teacher set up the mageknights to practise their weapons against each other, Martel idled to the side, waiting to see if he merited Reynard's attention or not.

"You, weather boy, come," said the Master of War.

That answered Martel's question, and he approached his teacher.

"You are done with staff training, since the other students need to practise with actual weapons, and I will not waste their time sparring with you."

Martel was sorely tempted to bring up the events of last night, but he contained himself.

"So we will move on. Part of empowerment magic, as the name suggests, is learning to empower your own body. Lending magical strength to your limbs." Reynard bent down to pick up a stone. He flung it out of the arena with more speed and force than humanly possible.

Watching it disappear against the horizon, Martel hoped nobody would be unlucky enough to stand where it would finally hit the ground.

"This is a big part of being a warrior. You will obviously never need this," Reynard claimed, "but you will be taught nonetheless."

Teaching in the loosest sense of the word, Martel surmised.

"Follow me." Reynard walked over to a training dummy meant for weapon training. It stood on a base of solid stone. "This should be too heavy for you to push even the slightest, I imagine. Try."

Martel placed his hands against the wooden warrior and pushed. It did not move.

"As expected. Now, you must imagine your magic flowing to your arms. Imagine you are already strong enough to push it. Try again."

Martel knew it would not help, and he suspected Reynard knew as well, but he did as told. As before, the dummy did not budge.

"You must forget your notions of strength. A little girl could do this, if she commanded her magic," Reynard chastised him. "Practise for as long as needed until you can move it."

With that, the teacher turned his attention to other students. He recognised Reynard's strategy; give him a technique and a goal, and then leave him on his own rather than offer any insight or help. It suited Martel fine; he just wanted to complete this course, and Reynard wanted to ignore his presence. Turning his mind to the task, Martel began practising.

~

His second combat lesson ended at fifth bell, meaning late afternoon; typically too late for a jaunt into town, but he had promised Shadi to tell of the duel, and a full day had already passed. Setting a brisk pace, Martel traversed Morcaster to reach the Khivan enclave an hour later.

He knocked heavily and entered the workshop. This time, Master Farhad noticed him and muttered something gruffly, while Martel replied with a polite greeting.

The sound of hasty footsteps across the ceiling told him to look towards the stairs, where Shadi appeared. "Hey! I was a little worried when you didn't visit yesterday."

"Sorry, I had a full day. In fact, I will have to leave soon if I'm to make it back to the Lyceum before dark."

Shadi descended the stairs and gave him an examining look. "Well, your face isn't smashed up, so it can't have gone too bad. Come on, let's take a walk."

She jumped back up the stairs.

"Where to?" Martel called out after her.

From his workbench, measuring the length of a metal rod, Farhad grumbled.

She appeared again, wearing warm clothes. "Let's go to the harbour. It won't be too long for either of us to go home from there. Bye, dad!" She shouted the last part as she hurried out the door, dragging Martel with her.

~

They strolled westwards in the fading sunlight, warning of winter's night coming. "So tell me!" Shadi said with excitement.

Martel cleared his throat, suddenly feeling embarrassed. He was not sure how to relate the events of the fight without sounding boastful or pretentious. "Well, it was quite a night."

"Of course it was," she laughed. "Tell me details!"

"I'm getting there," he retorted in a good-natured manner. "Maybe you noticed the weather. Pouring down rain, storm and lightning and everything. I'm basically soaked as soon as I step out onto the arena, as is everyone else."

"Uh, you guys have an arena. Duels happen a lot, do they?"

"It's just for practising," Martel told her. "So, he steps out, wearing full armour and everything. Chain shirt, heavy boots, like he's going to war."

"What a bastard."

"We each have a staff, and he attacks me. Just whales on me, and I defend."

"And?"

"Well, it's been raining for a while at this point. There's lots of water on the ground, sinking into the dirt." They turned a corner and saw the masts of ships in the distance. "So while he's using magic, what little he has, to hit me harder, I'm using mine to make the ground softer. Muddier."

Shadi grinned. "Oh, you clever hound."

"He takes another step forward and falls straight on his back," Martel laughed. The memory appeared vividly in his mind; through the darkness and heavy rain, Cheval lying stuck in the mud, helpless as an infant.

"Amazing!" She looked at him with admiration. "I knew you were a much better mage than that pompous oaf!"

"I didn't," Martel admitted, more candid than he had intended. "I was as surprised as any that it worked."

"Well, I wouldn't have been." The smell of salt and sea reached them, along with the sounds of busy docks. Even in winter, goods required transportation; especially to the front, where supplies were scarce and sorely needed. "Is it true there's wizards aboard the ships?" Shadi asked.

"Some of them, yeah." By luck, Martel had heard some of the acolytes talk about this. "Some airmages or watermages train to become seamages."

"You magic folk sure are imaginative with your names."

"Shut up," Martel laughed. "But yeah, the big ships will all have a seamage aboard, making sure the waters are calm and the wind behind the sails."

"You ever thought about that?"

"No. Until recently, I didn't even think about being a mage." Martel watched as a ship gracefully entered the harbour. Ropes were tossed to let it moor, securing it to the pier.

"How come?"

"My father never wanted me to be one. He told me to hide my gift. So I did."

"Strange. You'd have thought he'd be happy to have a mage in the family."

"Yeah." The ship looked strange compared to the others in harbour, as did the sailors crawling its rigging. They were Sindhian, Martel realised, from across the southern sea.

"So you'll be going home to them when you're done?"

"That's the plan." As he spoke the words, Martel thought about Engby. Familiar, small, comfortable. And then he thought about the ship, the journey it had completed, and the port on the other side. Sindhu, the land of a thousand princes, where children played with gems and snakes alike.

"It's getting dark. I'll head home, as should you. Thanks for coming to see me."

"Hey, I promised." He smiled at her. She began walking away, waving to him before increasing her pace. He watched her disappear up the street; once out of view, he turned north to walk home.

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