Warlord Arcanist (Chapter 11)

I'm back from DragonCon and here's the chapter for the Journeyman Level! I hope you guys enjoy!

CHAPTER ELEVEN

ISLANDS IN THE DISTANCE

I dashed across the field, lamenting the fact I could no longer step into the shadows for faster movement. Zaxis, Forsythe, and Atty were right behind me, but I slowed my pace the moment I got a better look at the situation.

The rats had leapt onto Zelfree and Ryker, and although they were biting both of them, the rats weren’t drawing blood. Zelfree expertly yanked the rodents off and threw them away, but he stumbled backward and tripped over some of the rats in the process, resulting in a tumble onto the grass.

Ryker didn’t fare as well. He panicked, threw himself to the ground, and yelled again as the rats dogpiled on top of him. He flailed his arms and legs, but it was clear he had little to no combat training. He wasn’t using his body properly—it was as if every limb operated with its own independent thought.

Zelfree quickly leapt back to his feet—before he could be swarmed—and then dodged out of the way of several other rats. Despite their torrent, they couldn’t seem to get him. He was too agile, and a few times, he faked them out by stepping in one direction, and then lunging in the opposite direction. He quickly put distance between him and the horde.

But still… The rats weren’t injuring them.

“What’s going on?” Zaxis said, his copper knuckles hot again. His eldrin stood at his feet, his feathers flared.

Atty held up a hand, flame already in her palm. “Should we assist you?”

Zelfree stopped his flight and then growled. “Enough, MOS. You made your point.” He ran a hand through his sweaty black hair. “It’s an effective tactic, but one that will only take the enemy by surprise momentarily.”

The rats squeaked and chirped as they bounded off Ryker and rushed together to form a little colony of rodents. They squeezed themselves close, so that they remained a tightly packed group. Although I couldn’t count them all—they were all the same shade of dark fur—I suspected there were at least two hundred in total.

“I’ve survived for centuries by using various tactics to scare off arcanists and random hopefuls seeking to bond,” MOS said, her mouthpiece a single rat standing in front of the group. “You underestimate me. Check your pockets, Master Arcanist.”

Zelfree reached into his trouser pocket and shuddered. He yanked his hand out and stifled a shout. His fingers and palm were covered in insects—centipedes, worms, and needle-nosed beetles. He shook his hand and they fell to the grass. Each one shimmered and shifted, and then they melted back together to form a single rat. The rat scurried back to the group.

“I use tactics to distract arcanists,” MOS said. “I break their concentration with their own fears, I evoke confusion to muddle them further, and once they’re fully addled, I kill them from the inside with my creepy crawlers and insects. Most arcanists are long dead before they even know it.”

Atty snuffed out her flame, her eyes wide.

“Wow,” Zaxis muttered as he dropped his hands. “I like it.”

“I can protect Ryker,” MOS continued. “All he needs to focus on is learning my magics.”

Zelfree stared at the rats, and then at Ryker.

Although he hadn’t been seriously injured, it still took Ryker a moment to pick himself up off the ground and brush off the dirt and grass from his clothes. With a sheepish look, he glanced around to everyone and then avoided eye contact.

“I apologize,” he said. “I grew up on a small island helping my mother… I, uh, never thought I’d need to fight off pirates and brigands. Those weren’t skills that interested me.”

“It’s fine,” Zaxis said with a scoff. Then he shrugged and turned away. “Volke, Master Zelfree, and I have enough fighting power for a small army. You’ll be fine.”

“I can hold my own, thank you,” Atty said, still refined, but with a heated edge to her words.

Zaxis turned to her and glowered. “Aren’t you locked up in your room most of the time reading about true forms?” He motioned to the field. “Where’s Titania, huh? Isn’t your eldrin in the library right now studying old magical texts and journals?”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“You’re not focused on combat. You’re just focused on yourself.”

The retort had more anger behind it than usual—and that was saying something, because Zaxis always had a lot of anger.

I stepped between them, disappointed that arcanists in the Frith Guild would be fighting amongst each other. “Achieving true form with her phoenix would be a great boon,” I said, matching Zaxis’s narrowed glare. “Atty could develop powerful magics, and she’d be immune to the arcane plague. The Second Ascension wouldn’t stand a chance. Not everything has to be about fighting.”

For a brief second, everything remained tense. No one spoke. Master Zelfree took a deep breath, as though formulating something to say, but it was obvious his fatigue interfered.

Finally, Zaxis threw his hand up in the air and turned away. “Listen, when I say Master Zelfree, Volke, and myself are great fighters, and Atty has to interject and demand a spot on the list, I’m not going to put her there just because. She has to earn it. And while a true form phoenix could be a boon, she doesn’t have one yet. She certainly isn’t helping anybody or anyone with the amount of time she dedicates to it.”

Forsythe glanced at us, then to his arcanist. He hurried after Zaxis when the rest of us remained still.

I wanted to say something, but I couldn’t find the words. No path seemed like “the right one.”

Atty didn’t say anything. She listened to Zaxis’s rant with a straight face, no emotion whatsoever. When Zaxis walked away, she turned her gaze to the grass and remained as silent as before. Did Atty believe him? Was she worried she was wasting her time?

I placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Hey,” I said. “I understand why you’ve been doing this. You don’t have to feel bad.”

“Zaxis isn’t entirely wrong,” she whispered.

A short while ago, when we had last visited the Isle of Ruma, Atty had introduced me to her mother. I had explored their home and discovered the coffins—dead relatives, kept “fresh” and whole. Apparently, Atty’s mother wanted a true form phoenix so that the bodies could be resurrected, and Atty felt responsible to follow through with her mother’s wishes.

The situation wasn’t something I related to then, but now that I had lost Luthair, a small piece of me wondered if Atty’s phoenix would be able to resurrect Luthair once she obtained true form…

But I shook my head, dispelling the thought.

Atty’s mother was just using her for a goal. I wouldn’t be that kind of person.

“Enough, enough,” Master Zelfree said as he stormed over to me and Atty. He pushed us apart. “It’s true, we’ll be fighting a lot of dastards in the future. All the more reason not to fight amongst ourselves.” He glared at Atty. “If you think Zaxis has a point, you can change directions at any time. As a journeyman arcanist, I said I’d let you decide your path going forward, but I’m going to say this to you again—don’t get obsessed. Obsession is a poison, do you understand me? Obsession may even cost you your life.”

Atty nodded once. “I understand. I still stand by my decision. But Volke is also right. If I can just…” She glanced down at her palm. “Maybe I should be in the library right now.”

“Perhaps.”

The tension remained thick as Atty mulled it over. After a prolonged moment, she took a deep breath and smiled up at me. “I’m sorry, Volke. I thought I’d finally be able to help you with your evocation, but I haven’t done much at all, have I?”

“You can still help,” I said.

“If I’m going to focus on achieving a true form with my phoenix, I need to make sure all my efforts go there.” She stepped forward and pulled me into a tight embrace. She smelled of lavender. “I know Zaxis and Master Zelfree will do well by you.”

“Right,” I muttered as I returned her affection.

But a part of me knew she was just saying goodbye.

“Thank you,” she whispered. “For understanding. I think you’re the only one who does.”

***

My brother ended his training in the afternoon. At no point did I see him transform, even when he attempted to use some of his other abilities.

Afterward, Zaxis, Forsythe, and Master Zelfree—with mimicked phoenix magic—helped me train with my molten rock. I evoked it several times, but I had to make sure none of it spilled onto Gentel. The flames that Zelfree and Zaxis used burned the grass, but Gentel restored that within a matter of moments. My evocation was just too destructive to risk throwing around.

After I had gotten comfortable with creating it, Zaxis and Master Zelfree ran me through combat drills. Tossing it from one hand to the other, moving while holding it, using the molten rock defensively—I’d need practice, but it was good to have the first steps in place.

Right as the sun touched the distant horizon, I held up a hand to stop.

My knuckles, elbows, and knees had obsidian jutting out of the joints. Although they didn’t hinder my movement, I shuddered each time I caught sight of them. And to make matters worse, I think they added to my weight. I felt sluggish the longer our training went on, and it wasn’t just from fatigue.

My arms were harder to lift above my head.

Zaxis and Forsythe walked over to me.

“You’re ruining your clothes faster than I did when I first trained,” Zaxis quipped. He pointed to my ripped trousers and shirt. “And are you creating rocks on purpose? They aren’t even that sharp.” He grabbed my elbow and ran his fingers over the points of the rock. “They’re jagged. Totally useless.”

I yanked away from him. “I told you. It just happens.”

“And do they fall off? What happens to them?”

“I… well, I think they melt away? Slowly. After I stop using my evocation for a while.”

Master Zelfree—his eyes half-lidded, and his movements more sluggish than mine—ambled over. “I’ve seen a few mystical creatures who have side effects to their magic. The most notable are the manticores and the tundra beasts.”

“What happens with them?” I asked.

“Manticore arcanists often hurt themselves when they’re first training. Their magic gives them superhuman strength, and in the beginning, it’s difficult for most to wield. Their muscles rip because they accidently overexert themselves.”

I rubbed at the back of my neck. “So, I’m doing this wrong?”

“I didn’t say that.” Zelfree sighed. “Look, I knew a guy who would occasionally rip doors off their hinges or crush bottles in his grip because he wasn’t used to his newfound strength.”

“I just need to get used to this?” I lifted my arms and examined the many obsidian rocks. “They’re heavy.”

“Yeah, and tundra beasts half-freeze themselves when evoking their ice. They’re immune to the cold, so their bodies don’t waste away from the temperature, but that doesn’t stop the ice crystals from forming across them. The ice becomes a hindrance. It gets in the way of their movement and stiffens their armor.”

I hadn’t ever read that. Then again, most of the things I read were adventures and legends. Most stories didn’t go over the specifics of training.

“How do tundra beast arcanists overcome that?” I asked.

Zelfree half-laughed. “Well, most don’t. The ones who do just control the rate at which they’re evoking, or they make sure they have trinkets and artifacts to counteract the formation of the ice on their bodies.”

“So, maybe I should have something that prevents the obsidian rocks from forming?”

“Potentially,” Zelfree drawled. He stared at my hands. “You’re not a pugilist, like Zaxis. The rocks will likely get in the way of your swordplay.”

I hadn’t thought of that.

Zaxis ran his hands over his fire-proof armor. “Didn’t we get a whole slew of star shards from the world serpent’s lair?” He glanced up at me and smirked. “And isn’t your father a master artificer? Once we get to Fortuna, let’s ask him to craft you armor that prevents the obsidian from sprouting.”

Crafting magical items was a tricky process. It required a piece of a mystical creature, a number of star shards, and the magic of the person imbuing the item. The star shards were the power and glue of the whole process. Without them, no magical items could be made. And the more star shards, the stronger the trinket. If at least ten shards were used, the item became so powerful that they typically couldn’t be broken or dismantled. Those were artifacts.

But what the item did was dependent on everything else.

A phoenix feather imbued with caladrius magic could create a powerful healing trinket, but a phoenix feather imbued with will-o-wisp magic could create a destructive flame-shooting trinket. My father had imbued salamander scales with his phoenix magic, which resulted in Zaxis’s fire-immune armor.

What combination of parts and magic would it take to prevent the rocks from appearing on my body? The problem almost seemed impossible.

“Don’t get that look,” Zelfree snapped. “Don’t worry about this. Jozé will know what magics we need. The man has a gift for crafting.”

I slowly nodded. “All right.”

“But I think we should call it for today.” Zelfree’s shoulders slumped, and it was obvious to anyone with a single functioning eye that he might fall asleep at any moment. “We have one more day until we reach Fortuna. We’ll dedicate the whole day to mastering a demonstration. Until then, we should rest.”

“I’m still filled with energy,” Zaxis said.

“I don’t care.”

Zaxis frowned but didn’t offer anything else. I was glad because I didn’t think I could continue on in my current state. I followed Zelfree back to the guild manor house and daydreamed of my soft bed.

***

I wished I could focus more.

It seemed as though I only had two seconds to sleep. In reality, I had slept eight hours, but the time disappeared in an instant. One moment I had been crawling onto my mattress, getting ready to pull the covers over my body, and the next thing I knew, Evianna’s knightmare was shaking me awake, my face in a puddle of my own drool.

I woke, dressed, and stumbled back outside all while half-awake.

Lost in a haze of blurry thoughts, I helped Evianna with terror evocation, and then attempted to go over her augmentation. I barely remembered a thing. By the time the sun was rising, Zaxis and Zelfree were out on the field waiting for me. Evianna hugged me, and I think I hugged back before dragging myself over to the next grueling event.

Twice I almost dropped my molten rock on Gentel, and once I almost burned my last set of whole trousers. It seemed the more magma I created, the hotter the ambient air became. That was why the water around me had boiled when I had been dueling Gallus the Gray. To keep from hurting those around me, I kept my evocation light.

But even if I spaced out the time between each evocation, the obsidian rocks still sprang from my body. It irritated me how often they appeared, but I doubted I could fix the problem in one day’s time.

Once the sun had passed overhead, and I was on my last legs, Zelfree turned his attention to the guild manor house as though someone had called his name. I hadn’t heard anything, but I patiently waited while Zelfree stared.

Zaxis, on the other hand, jumped close and threw a punch. On instinct, I leaned away. The extra weight of the obsidian made movement sluggish. Zaxis managed to clip me in the chin, and I staggered backward. For some reason, the blow didn’t hurt like it normally did when Zaxis got in a good strike. It felt… a little softer. Had he been going easy on me? Or had something else happened?

I rubbed at my chin. “Zelfree’s busy,” I said. “Relax.”

Zaxis eyed me for a moment, then he stared at his copper knuckles. He never said anything, but the cogs of his mind continued to spin long after our brief encounter.

“We’re almost to Fortuna,” Zelfree said as he turned back around. He pointed off the starboard side of Gentel’s shell. “Look. You can see some islands.”

Filled with giddy energy, I snapped my attention to the far horizon. Sure enough, the dots of islands were clear as the beautiful weather. I wiped the sweat from my brow, pleased to be so close to home.

“How long until we reach Fortuna?” I asked.

Zelfree shook his head. “The guildmaster wants us to arrive before dusk. Gentel will be pickin’ up speed.”

“So, we have a couple hours?” Zaxis asked. Then he scoffed. “Volke isn’t ready. He’s barely combat capable.”

“I still have my sword and shield,” I said.

“But no armor and barely any magic.”

I waved my arm at the ocean. “Have you seen Terrakona? He’s huge. Unless we’re facing a dragon arcanist, I’m sure we’ll be fine.”

I hoped.

Zaxis shrugged. “I almost got a good hit across your face, and I’m not even a master arcanist. If you don’t focus more, I’m sure that—”

“We won’t be getting into any combat for a while,” Zelfree interjected. “Both of you get back into the manor house. Once we reach the city, the guildmaster will tell you what to do next, understand?”

“Yes,” I said.

Zaxis replied with a curt nod.

“Good,” Zelfree said with a huff. As he turned on his heel and headed for the front garden, he muttered, “Let’s just hope you both follow instructions this time.”