Max’s enthusiasm for study suffered for a few hours the next day, but after that, it seemed to have rejuvenated him. Enchoron was pleased to see how his reading had improved, probably even to rival his old friend Mathew’s reading abilities now with the complex tales that he’d comprehended.
After a simple history lesson about the Homesteads of his homeland, how it had for so long been the breadbasket of the continent, he even got to have some simple lessons on the workings of some simplistic magic tricks.
Max had his usual moment at lunch, reading the feelings of those in the tavern. The tavern felt different that day. He couldn’t quite place it, but it just felt so very muted and with a lack of energy. He looked around at the people and there were some local masons, traveling merchants, and a few extra hands from the poor northern city of Burklyn. He sensed the bar maid that was again trying to find the perfect man to give her an adventure. He wondered often why it was that she never seemed to come to him, flirt with him, but alas it appeared that she didn’t like younger men like him.
With the ease of all those feelings, his mind open more and it felt as though it encompassed the entire room. He started to have trouble breathing. Enchoron looked over and put down the wooden spoon filled with the lentil and vegetable stew that was on offer that day.
“Max? Something wrong?”
“I just need... some fresh air. Everything is fine.”
Max stood and dropped his spoon in the soup. He walked out the heavy oak door of the tavern and took a long breath outside. Sometimes, he missed the golden fields of harvest time at home. The rolling hills there went on so far. Up here in the towers and on the bridges, he was so high that unless he was on the outer walls, he just saw sky. There were no mountain ranges near enough, though on a clear day there were some seen to the East. On the western side, there was a solitary distant volcano, only evident when it put up some stacked plumes of smoke.
He walked over to the edge of one of the nearby bridges, leaning against a familiar keystone that he’d often gone to to think. He looked down into the swirling mists. Sometimes, if he focused with more intensity down on the mist, he could sense the turmoil there. It was as if it had a feeling all on its own.
The distraction was enough as he looked down that he did not notice the dark cloaked outsiders that approached him. They crept along the misty wooden planks of the bridge and towards him.
Drawing dark and twisted blades, they stalked to near striking distance as the three of them spread out in formation to all be able to strike simultaneously. Dropping down from the parapet above the tavern and taking the assassins by surprise was the sleek and dangerous figure of Phaedra.
Her thin dueling blade drove down into the shoulder of one of the three assassins and sent him staggering forward, the other just barely dodging the clash and leaping forward towards Max. Max turned and screamed as he finally saw the assailants having lost himself in such a place as those swirling mists of another realm.
Even now, he wasn’t so sure what he could do to help, but he found himself stepping back to dodge the assassin’s blade out of survival reflex. His back collided with the keystone and sent a painful trigger through his body.
Phaedra rode the one that she’d stabbed to the edge of the bridge and slid her blade back as she kicked him off and into the mists. She turned to find herself facing off with the third assassin while Max was still busy fending for his life.
Phaedra pulled her parrying dagger and stood en garde. These two entered into a matched series of parries and strikes as they step back and forth trying to find an opening. As good as Phaedra was, this assassin was just as good it seemed. She was fortunate to have gotten the jump on the other one.
Meanwhile, Max fought for his life. He grabbed at a pot that had been left outside of the tavern and swung it at the assailant. It was only a temporary opportunity to hold this black robed figure back. The assassin leapt forward and Max tried to dodge as he tripped on a stone corner of the courtyard outside of the tavern. The assassin pierced Max under the rib, not so deeply with the dagger.
Max stood and put his fists up to try to defend himself. He found that suddenly he was unable to stand and he saw his fists swaying in double vision. Then, the side of his head kissed the ground as he faded. He lay there as he felt himself being picked up into the would be assassin’s arms. He sensed the ground moving quickly as he was carried away from the fight.
A sudden emoting of words of power danced on the air. Max could barely tell what was happening as the one that was carrying him stumbled and dropped him and slid down unconscious.
**
After going over many of the books and looking for tales and poems about Scions, Max moved outside to get some fresh air. Max breathed the cool air the blew over the tower and rushed around and into the depths of the city in torrents of power. Phaedra followed behind him. “Sometimes he just thinks about the grand scope. The world and the dangers that face it. It’s the job of the wizards.”
“What does this have to do with? I know, the wizards have some great place, like they are sitting up on high and looking down over the rest of us.”
“Well, I wasn’t really bringing that up to focus on the grand scope that they look at. I’m saying that the visceral is sometimes lost on them. Enchoron’s words can come across as though you are just a tool, but we know that’s not true. Max,” Phaedra put a hand on the balcony right next to his, so close that her heat almost warmed his hand in contrast to the chill air. “Be a man and make something of yourself, not just something for other people. Define yourself and become strong in your choices.”
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Phaedra spent extensive time in the mornings setting up way points throughout the city for Max to then run through. Each day, the courses got more and more difficult and physically demanding. Dummies would swing faux weapons at him at intervals during the courses. They might not have been real, but the weapons still stung, nonetheless.
If he was going to make sure that the part he played in the events of the future, he would have to be ready. Phaedra taught him more about how to fight.
Enchoron took Max to a quiet tower that bore little in the way of decoration. The cleanliness of the tower marked it unique amongst the many towers. Max studied each figure inside the tower, curiously. They all seemed so calm, they almost didn’t seem sentient, but they were all quite human.
“Your gift can have difficulties at reading those that are clear minded. These Monks of the Sharp Tower are an excellent example. You’ll have to get better if you’re to use your gift to greatest strength. After all, the most valuable targets to use it on are those that are the best at hiding from the outside world.” Enchoron nodded respectfully to one monk, whom returned the regards.
In this quiet place, Max started to work on harnessing his empathic gifts. Enchoron used the whole of Rotheburg as the playground for testing Max with his power. They moved from tavern to garden, to gate. Slowly, Max opened his mind and sharpened his strength.
One morning, Max found Enchoron sitting and eating breakfast porridge much as he did most mornings. Max sat across from him, “Where will we try to push my limits this day?”
Enchoron finished chewing slowly, dabbed his lips with a towel, and smiled widely, “Today, and for some days to come, we’ll be working on something new.” He pulled a belt out of a sack on the floor next to him and yanked a device out of the belt. Enchoron hefted it for a moment, then he set it on the table and slid it across to Max.
Max picked up the device as Enchoron scooped up another spoon full of porridge. “It’s time you learn about all the secrets of wizardry, much as my mentor once did for me.”
Time flew by with the training’s of Enchoron. Wizards seemed so mysterious, but it became quite clear to Max that they just studied and knew so much of the world’s secrets that it seemed like such magic.
One day, only books of history and many maps lay on the table and piled on the nearby floor. This looked to lead into a number of days of more mundane lessons. Enchoron motioned for Max to sit. “Get comfortable. Today, we begin your lessons on history and geography. You need to know all of the things that go on in the greater world. Rotheburg, this city that we now grace with our presence, is one of the three cities that stood strong in support of Sargovia when the world rebelled against the imperial capital. The other two were Genma and Zu. Each of them was ruled by an immortal child or ancestor of Darioon, the God and Emperor of man.“ All of the lands that you have seen and most of the mortal lands you will travel once belonged to the Sargovian Empire. Darioon conqured and united all of the known world. His ancestors inherited some of his immortality in some aspect, though not truly immortal themselves. Rothe was known for his courage. You will see as you speak to others here, that his influence can still be felt among the locals that have long called this place home.
Rotheburg is North of Atras, the old imperial capital. Atras is pretty much the center of the world that still remains intact. Travel an equal distance on this world in just about any direction from Atras and you’ll arrive at the shattered lands. Those are the lands that are all that remain after the Shattering tore the moons, planes, or fragments apart.
“All those moons you see in the sky, those are referred to in a number of ways, though I like to call them the moons, as they have become moons that orbit the Old World. When each tore itself apart, each moon maintained a different aspect of the universe, and that may be one of the few mystical elements of the geography that I have yet to find a good explanation for.”
The first lesson covered much of the geography of the Old World and some of the moons or planes. Max had not decided for himself what name made the most sense to him.
The next lesson went into history early the next morning, before Max’s physically intense training drained him of focus.
The lessons went on for too many days. Max sat and wondered when his training would focus again on more applicable knowledge. Enchoron would often repeat the same knowledge, and Max would know that he repeated something but still couldn’t remember what knowledge he should impart.
Finally, again, Enchoron started to repeat another historical tale, but this time, Max perked up in his seat. Max blurted out an ingteruption while Enchoron had been in mid-sentence. “Because the nature of the Shardborn is fickle and transitory. Gabriela joined the ranks of the gods from a humble healer. All those that traveled with her hoped to receive the shard of the creator, but their nature’s already had representation amongst the pantheons. So the nature of the gods is balanced among the aspects of reality, but that doesn’t mean we have to support and worship all of them. That’s what the various philosophies of the pantheons is all about!”
“Don’t interrupt me while I try to teach.” Enchoron slammed closed the book and gave Max a stern look.
Max’s smile faded, then just as quick as his interruption, his smile returned and he laughed. Max sensed that Enchoron was quite proud and pleased, not angry.
At that, Enchoron also bellowed out a laugh. “That’s not quite the point I wanted to make, but that’s a good one.”
Each night ended with Max, Phaedra, and Enchoron looking through stacks of papers, books and journals, seeking any information about Scions that they could discern.
Max lay in bed most nights, unable to sleep, thinking about home and about Belka. It was strange how far away it felt and how it felt like boyhood memories and fantasy. He felt for Phaedra like a man would feel for a woman. This life and that life in the hamlet seemed like two different people.
His training with Phaedra finally came to a climax after he lost track of days that she defeated him in their sparring and his head hurt as if bloated from the infusion of knowledge he’d gotten.
Finally, after Max put up this, his most valiant of efforts at dueling Phaedra, bleeding from his cheek from a near cut, Phaedra lowered her blade. She stared at him hard for a long moment. “I can’t expect that by the end of this you shall be my equal in a duel.” A sharp pain grew in Max’s heart, though he knew her words to be true. “I’m not saying this out of disappointment. You’ve learned so much, so quickly.”
Max lowered the dueling sword and removed the thick glove he wore on his other hand, undoing the belt that housed his ray gun. He walked over to the stone balcony and looked over the extent of hazy Rotheburg.
“I won’t be good enough to face the future. I’m not being good enough for you.”
Phaedra quietly appeared at his side, looking over the city. “That’s not true. You’re diverse in ways I could never hope to be. To show you, I’ll give you this.” She held out a bracelet. It did not shine with obvious value of precious metal and stones, but it looked quite ancient.