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A food problem began to develop on the second day, and I’m sure that I would lose my accumulated goodwill if I suggested cannibalism. I rapped my fingers on the hardwood table I had found near the center of the battlefield. I wonder if they would be willing to eat horses? I glanced over at my two steeds and found them ripping and tearing apart the corpse of another horse. That’s probably not the best of signs. I turned back to my desk, it doesn’t have to be meat, but the men need to eat something. Gruel comes to mind but I haven't come across any cornmeal. I guess nothing is stopping me from looking for some though.
Unrest spread through the camp when the two physicians abruptly disappeared without a word. The men were hungry and tired causing tension between the two sides to grow. The strange birdman and his companion were the only neutral parties at camp, and now they were left with no leaders. Out of respect, they did not fight openly but that was likely to change. Guillemot Bon Adle was not having a pleasant time trying to keep the troops from tearing each other’s throats out, but he was making progress. Despite the lead physicians’ strange garb, Guillemot could feel immense danger coming from beneath that expressionless mask.
He had met many dangerous men in his line of work, but this was the first one to unnerve him just by simply being in his presence. There was no doubt in his mind that the physician would wipe out anyone who would dare make his job harder. The masked man just sort of had that aura about him. Guillemot could only sigh as he looked over the field of death in front of him. This was not supposed to be how this battle turned out. So many people died this week, and he was supposed to be one of them. All this for what? A petty squabble over a girl. He was getting old, maybe he should retire.
The sound of marching feet sent the camp into a frenzy. Was it the Kelmot’s or the Helaska’s? Either way, each side could only hope that they were friendly, and if not, hope that they would only be taken as prisoners. Guillemot had confidence though, that it had to be the Kelmot’s. A good thing for him and the rest of the people at camp. The Kelmot’s could afford to take prisoners.
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Teacher’s usual graceful movements had turned jerky and rough as the day passed. His gruff mannerisms had turned even more peculiar. I had suspicions before but this basically proves it, teacher does not like the day, or probably light for that matter. My mother had a similar problem, but it only extended to fully covering all skin and keeping the house dark. Hopefully, this doesn’t happen to all powerful people. I stopped midstride and realized something, I could just ask him. I scratched the back of my head through the cloth hood and brought up my courage, “I couldn’t help but notice that several powerful mages I have met all seem to have some aversion to the day.”
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Teacher stopped mid-stride and turned to look at me with unnerving interest before stating in a rougher voice than usual, “Craft a spell and hold it.”
I instinctively drew my wand and performed what he asked. With my heavy training, this was almost second nature. The spell was a simple magic missile that I could now perform in my sleep. Teacher resumed his march, so I went to follow, but as I moved, I found the spell had suddenly become exponentially harder to maintain. Without my full attention, the spell began to unwind and become unstable. Before It could explode in my hand, I slung it away causing it to fizzle out.
I had known of this occurrence; in direct daylight, spells are known to fail. No one knows exactly why, but it was theorized that the god of the sun did not much appreciate mortals using magic in his presence. But I failed to see what this had to do with anyone’s aversion to light. Seeing my confusion, teacher picked up a small stone and filled it with enough magic to make it almost glow. He kept it in his own shadow for a second before exposing it to the sunlight. Before I could process it, the stone cracked instantly and began fracturing into smaller pieces. “The more magic something has, the more that object is made of magic.”
I nodded before turning to contemplate the new information. I doubt that means that strong mages will just pop as the rock did, but I can’t imagine it being a pleasant experience. I spotted teacher abruptly stopping before snatching a silver coin from the dirt. Holding back a sigh with all my might, we began walking again. Glancing back at the food-filled cart behind us, my stomach began to rumble. It has been a couple of days since I have eaten last. Though I knew it would just be disgusting gruel, my hopes were still high.
The somber day drug on as the weird horses tugged the old cart along. We were almost back, and that meant that it was back to work for me. Teacher decided to take up flipping the coin he had found. Over and over it glinted in the sun. The strange thing was it almost always landed on tails. It's not the strangest of things I have seen him do though. The tinging echo it made even began to feel comforting. I took this chance to think about just how strange our clothing was. Teacher was wearing much of the same thing I was. A long leather robe that reached his ankles with boots much of the same making. Unlike mine though, his appeared to be well used and covered in all kinds of belts, pockets, and buckles. His mask was the main difference though. Oddly unnerving, the white beak made the whole outfit seem unnerving, and the black cavernous eye wholes certainly didn’t help either.