The Fusionist Book 2 -- Chapter 2

Chapter 2

The one good thing that could be said about their transfer from Crystalview Academy and exit from Peratin was that the Dean provided the students – yes, even Larek – with very basic tents within which they could sleep in overnight on their journey. All 64 tents, which was the total number of Mage students traveling along with the caravan, were stored in the back of a particular wagon. They were safe and secure, riding along with the students’ belongings, but that didn’t seem to mean all that much to the exhausted and footsore Mages once they stopped for the night, far ahead of the scheduled stop time. It was more than obvious that the caravan master had called the stop, in a relatively clear spot in between fields of wheat, because the kids were starting to drop like felled trees due to their exhaustion.

What didn’t help, at least at the end of the day, was that the merchants leading the caravan had absolutely no inclination to help the students retrieve the tents for them. Larek couldn’t necessarily blame them, as the people who actually operated the caravan – such as the drivers and other staff – were already busy setting up the luxurious tents and sleeping areas that the merchants apparently required. The merchants, themselves, were just like the ones he’d met before; to be more precise, they refused to lift a finger either for themselves or others.

“But we’re so tired! How are we supposed to get them and then set them up? You’re supposed to be responsible for—”

“There is absolutely no stipulation in my contract that I – or anyone that works for me –needs to do anything of the sort,” the leader of the caravan cut off the entreaties from the younger students. “I’m to keep you alive and fed, and I’ve promised to transport your belongings, at my own expense, if you must know, and if you can’t handle them yourselves, then that’s not my problem. You can sleep on the ground without anything else as far as I care.”

There wasn’t really much that the students could say to that, especially when the caravan master was backed up by a half-dozen caravan guards who looked like they were going to beat in some heads if the kids got too unruly. Larek just saw it and shrugged, heading over to the wagon that held the tents and jumped up the side; the springs that worked as shock absorbers bounced a few times as he looked through the supplies, finding the stacked bundles of tents and started chucking them out behind him.

It wasn’t like it was hard, and he wasn’t really tired from the walk – especially since they had stopped early in the evening.

“That’s all you’re good for, it seems,” Larek suddenly heard in the middle of the process, and the former Logger immediately froze with his hands on a pair of tents and looked outside. “A freak like you should be a servant, anyway.”

Really? This again?

He knew exactly who it was before he even recognized the voice.

Rendle.

The third-year Mage student had been eyeing him throughout the entire journey that day, as brief as it was, and Larek could tell that he was one of those people that really didn’t like him. Almost all of the first-years were used to him by that point, and if they didn’t necessarily care about him one way or another, none of them were actively hostile. From what Verne had mentioned at one point, the first-years had seen him fight the winged cat during the first Scission and helped to save the first- and second-years during the most recent attack, so their opinion had changed from fearful and annoyed at his presence to neutral or even appreciative in some cases.

Rendle, unfortunately, didn’t fall into one of those categories. He was the older brother of a younger first-year, but he apparently wasn’t inclined to let his prejudices about Larek’s height go.

“Ren, he’s not a servant—” the former Logger heard from the girl at his side, whom Larek thought was Rendle’s sister. Baisley? Is that her name?

Before he could try and remember the name for sure, she was interrupted. “What, are you defending him? He’s a worthless—”

*Smack!*

A wooden staff suddenly smacked him on the back, causing the red-robed Mage to stumble forward and fall to his knees as he cried out in pain. Larek couldn’t help a smirk from crossing his face as he saw Nedira behind the fallen student, an angry expression on her face.

I bet that staff didn’t even get damaged in the least because of the Fusion I put on it.

“Stop being stupid, Rendle,” she stated between clenched teeth. “If you can’t be civil, you can head back to Crystalview and we’ll simply take your sister with us.”

In obvious pain, Rendle still jumped up from his knees and turned on the reddish-gold-haired Mage, a spell forming in front of him as he directed his Pattern Cohesion. Larek immediately recognized it as a Fireball, as it was one of the few he was familiar enough with to have learned the spell – despite not being able to actually cast it – and he started to jump off the wagon to stop the third-year from doing something stupid. Before he could move more than a few inches, he found that he was completely unneeded as a figure suddenly blurred in front of Rendle and slapped him across the face with a resounding *smack*.

The sudden blow caused the third-year to lose his concentration and the Fireball spell pattern fell apart in front of him. Staggering backwards, Rendle held his hand to his cheek as he looked with wide eyes at who had hit him.

“Enough!” the leather-clad woman said, the two knives at her waist reminding him of Claren, the member of the SIC that had taken him prisoner back in Rushwood. Her long brown hair was pulled back in a ponytail and wrapped with a dozen black fabric bands, which seemed to restrain her hair until it was more like at long whip that reached down to her lower back than a pony’s free-flowing hair. She was also quick, and while he remembered how fast Claren had been, this woman wasn’t nearly at that level – but he could tell that she probably would be one day. “We’re not even a day out from Hilltower and Crystalview and you’re already at each other’s throats. We were sent along to make sure nothing happened to you all, and while I thought they meant from external threats, I had no idea we’d have to babysit children that can’t keep their hands to themselves.”

Rendle appeared as though he wanted to strike back at the woman, but a look at her face was all it took for him to turn away in disgust without saying anything else. His reluctance to fight back also could’ve been because another man came stomping up to the confrontation in a heavy-looking, iron chainmail tunic with thin iron plates attached to it in what appeared to be strategic places, covering vital areas of his body. The chainmail extended to atop his head, which was further covered by a rounded helmet that had a noseguard extending in between his eyes, and his pants seemed to be some sort of reinforced leather with bands of iron. As for footwear, they were similar to his own sturdy work boots, but he could see even more bands on them, providing extra protection without being too heavy to move within. The upper portion of his plated chainmail appeared heavy enough without the extra weight.

With a wooden and iron-banded shield strapped to his back, he was fully equipped with enough defensive gear to prevent a lot of damage. If he had been with us when all the Scissions opened on top of the mountain a few days ago, he could’ve held off quite a few of the monsters while the Mages took them down. He supposed that was why Martials and Mages typically worked together when defending against Scissions. The weapon he was holding upright in his right hand, which appeared to be a steel-headed spear with a thick wooden shaft, also appeared to be able to inflict enough damage that he could’ve likely taken some of the Wolves or Bears that had attacked them all on his own. Against the walking trees, the Ironbark Treedin, he might not have been as effective – but that was where the Mages could shine.

“What’s all this, then?” the armored man asked, though by the look on his face, Larek was fairly certain he was already aware of what happened.

“It was nothing, Crester. They were just getting their tents and setting up for the night, weren’t they?” This last she directed toward the crowd of Mage students, who quickly nodded and scrambled to pick up the tent packs that Larek had thrown out of the wagon. Seeing that the situation had seemed to resolve itself, the former Logger continued grabbing and chucking out the tents, so that the students could begin setting up where they were going to sleep. He was tempted to leave a single one inside the wagon to get back at Rendle, but decided at the last moment not to be that petty. Besides, he’s already been punished.

It wasn’t long before everyone gathered up one of the tents, including the third-year that had been smacked around a little for his words, and Larek joined Verne, Norde, and Nedira as they set up toward the edge of the encampment. When he had traveled with a caravan before, the wagons had been set up in a roughly circular shape for protection, but with so many people along, it looked more like a “C” than an “O”, with the opening facing toward the road. Not that they expected to need any protection, given that they were still close enough to Peratin that the neighboring farms that provided food for the city were nearby.

Thankfully, setting up the single-person tents wasn’t something that was too difficult, even for the first-year students, and most of them were able to get them up without too much trouble; those that did have some issues were helped out by other students, so within 20 minutes they now had a sea of brown canvas tents erected for everyone to sleep inside, with a very thin sleeping mat that came with the bundle.

Overall, it was quite a change from his first experience with a caravan. This time he at least had some sort of comfort to start with, even if it wasn’t exactly sized right for him.

“Are you even going to fit in the tent?” Verne asked, chuckling at Larek as he attempted to wriggle his way inside. Given that it was only about 5 and a half feet long, it wasn’t very likely.

“No, but it’s better than nothing. At least there’s a mat that covers most of my body, so things are looking up,” he responded, pointing at how the lower third of his body was off the mat.

Before too much longer, one of the caravan people pushed over a fancy wheeled cart that was laden with loaves of bread and a wheel of cheese, as well as a barrel of what appeared to be water. Another person pushed another cart over that held small metal cups, before turning around and walking back to the main camp of merchants in the middle of the wagons in the shape of a “C”.

“I guess that’s dinner.  Yum,” Nedira said, before sighing and getting up. “Norde, come with me and we’ll bring some back for everyone.”

The young first-year bounced to his feet and followed his sister, leaving Larek and Verne alone in their little section of the camp. That was fine with him, because he had no desire to accidentally run into Rendle near where the food was being obtained by the hungry students.

Instead, he turned to his roommate and asked some questions that had been on his mind.

Book 2 Chapter 3: https://www.patreon.com/posts/fusionist-book-2-81330357