“What is more dangerous, magic or a sword?”
“Magic, obviously.”
“Wrong. A weapon is only ever as dangerous as the wielder of it. Therefore, the answer is irrelevant. What matters is to think not of the weapon but of the person behind the weapon. That is what it means to wield the sword.”
The person behind the weapon.
With his sword held before him, the cloaked man advanced a step at a time, a more defensive stance than I had anticipated.
Assuming he isn’t self-taught like me, he must come from the south.
My mother’s old adventuring friend had once told me how the different regions of the continent had varying styles of popular swordplay. Those of us in the north were known for our lineage to the swift sword and, as such, often took forms that mimicked it. Within the country's central deserts, they favored a more brutal style revolving around the accentuated use of strength to compensate for their heavier weapons. Finally, the technique referred to as the shield sword was born in the south. This defensive style was commonly used in the duels between nobles within the country's capital.
Southern-style dueling stance is mainly seen used by nobles, so whoever they are, they aren’t just random thugs.
I stepped forward, holding my stance close as I advanced with my sword raised. The man seemed unphased as if my movements were textbook.
First style is based on the swift sword of the north, so to him, it probably does seem textbook of what you would expect here.
My blade lashed out, a testing strike, but the man caught it on the flat of his blade with a casual flick of his wrist.
Here comes the riposte.
Had I not been taught some of the ins and outs of the differing styles of swordplay throughout the continent, I would have been struck through as a lightning-quick return strike came from my opponent. Dropping low, I tossed myself in a backward roll, the move awkward, having never seen practical use. It didn’t need to be pretty to be effective, as I avoided the path of his blade. Hopping onto my feet, I held my sword out in front of me as my opponent raised an eyebrow, impressed that I had avoided the lethal parry.
That’s right, not as easy as you thought this would be.
I lunged forward in a move that to most would have looked like a typical strike in the repertoire of a swift sword user, and just as well that the cloaked man appeared to anticipate that it was, lowering his sword to fend off my sudden rush once more.
I waited until I was sure his sword would flash out, ready to fend off my strike, before I slammed my foot down, halting my forward momentum. As I had hoped, the cloaked man’s sword shot out to intercept my sword, only to catch nothing as I slowed myself just enough to have successfully lured his blade out. Swinging my arms overhead, I swung down with as much strength as I could muster as the cloaked man’s eyes widened in surprise.
Got you!
The change in my attack pattern had done the trick, the cloaked man unable to react in time to the sudden shift from standard-looking north-style techniques to the powerful central-style swordplay. My blade came down, his weapon no longer in position to defend himself as my sword bit into flesh.
Don’t think about the fact you cut a real person.
While my sword bit through flesh, it wasn’t his chest like I had been aiming for. Instead, unable to defend himself with his sword at the last moment, the cloaked man thrust his opposite arm into my sword's direct path. It was enough to prevent my sword from inflicting direct damage to his vitals, but not without costing him his arm, which fell to the ground a split second later. If the grievous wound bothered him, it was only barely, the man staring at his dismembered arm with only mild annoyance. He reached for his stump of an arm, his lips parted, as a whispered word escaped from between clenched teeth.
“Scorz.”
As the word left his lips, I saw a red glow radiate from the bloodied stump just beneath his elbow, the smell of charred flesh permeating the air as the wound was cauterized.
“Magic.” I let out a huff as the man gave his arm a testing pat and, apparently satisfied, raised his sword to me again.
“‘Fraid so.” The man gave me an apologetic smile. “You got some good moves there; I’ll give you that. What was that? Northern style doesn’t use those big overhead swings.”
“Self-taught,” I admitted, no point hiding it now.
“Ahh. The issue with self-taught is that most fail to create something of worth. It looks like you had some promise.”
“Had?”
“Well, I’m still not letting you leave here alive.”
I glanced toward where my mother was still fighting against the two mages; her brow furrowed in concentration as her hands danced about, and sweat began rolling down her cheek. She was still in a deadlock, and without any help, I feared for her chances. It had been a long since my mother actively fought with her magic.
“Try me.” I forced a confident smile. It wasn’t as if I could back down now; I doubted the man would let me walk away.
Not like I could. The village was burning, and my mother was still fighting for her life.
Think. Think. What can I use?
My opponent was a magic swordsman. I could only guess that he was hopefully more oriented toward sword-fighting, given that he had yet to use any external magic against me.
Or he could just be going easy on me.
I brushed the negative thought aside, forcing myself to focus. While I had taken an arm off, the fight was anything but in my favor.
Still, an arm was an arm.
No point in overthinking things.
I ran forward, keeping oriented on his dismembered arm, darting forward with quick, testing stabs before springing back out of reach, none of the forward stabs anything more than glorified feints.
“How do you beat someone better than you?”
“You don’t.” My temporary mentor gave me a shrug as if it were obvious.
“But-”
“A better opponent will always win. But that isn’t what you should be asking.”
“It…it isn’t?”
“No. The better fighter will always be decided by who is left standing, so what you should be asking is, ‘how do I make sure I’m the one left standing?’”
I relaxed my grip on the pommel of my sword. It was evident in a pure skill matchup that I couldn’t hold a candle to the man. I had gotten him with a quick trick he hadn’t seen coming, but now it was as if his defense had leveled up several times over. I would never pull off such a move again. Not just that, but he had magic on his side.
“The thing about fighting with a sword is there will be times when you must understand that you won’t be able to escape unmarked, an equally matched opponent will force you to the limit of your abilities, and a foe gifted with greater talents than your own will force you to push past your limits, to find victory where none would ordinarily exist.”
I stepped forward as if making another feint. Without pause, the young magic knight saw through my play instantly, my ‘feint’ a distraction itself, an actual forward lunge that I had tried to masquerade as nothing more than a ploy. His sword was faster than my own, and I was too slow to defend myself as pain erupted from my side, his blade stabbing me.
Good.
The magic knight’s sword was partially buried in me, and my sword slashed forward unabated. A momentary flash of surprise passed through his eyes before he stepped back in surprise, pulling away from me as his blade retreated. Perhaps the pain of his sword pulling free from me was too much, as I faltered for a moment, my blade only carving a shallow cut through the front of his chest, nothing more than a bloody warning. The man looked down at his chest, patting it once before looking back toward me with a raised eyebrow.
“Well. You’ve got grit. Don’t see novices willing to risk life and limb for just the small shot at gaining an advantage.”
I wanted to respond, but the only sound that came out from between my pursed lips was a tightly guarded sound of pain, my mental resolve wavering as my body reacted to the injury.
“You haven’t endured real pain, real injuries yet. I’m guessing you’ve never had anything worse than a broken bone. I’ll give you props for holding yourself together as well as you have, but it’s clear you can’t keep it up. In fact, I’ll give you one more chance to leave. You have talent, talent enough that I’ll ensure you get to survive this all. Hell, you know what, we might even be able to bring you with us; you could get entry into the sword academy.”
I wasn’t sure why he seemed so hell-bent on convincing me to run off, but I felt an inkling of temptation for a moment. He offered me what I had always wanted: a chance to leave, start over, and see new things.
It would only cost sacrificing the people of the village and my mother.
I grimaced, clenching at the hole in my side as blood flowed freely from it, looking once more at the man. Gritting my teeth, I again raised my sword in a dueler’s salute.
“Well, your funeral.” He shook his head as if annoyed, and for the first time, he came to me. The first step was almost too quick for me; his blade barely missed stabbing me through the head as I flinched out of the way, and a cut opened on my cheek.
Shit.
I had assumed the man was only a practitioner of southern style, but the quick forward step, and the sheer speed of the strike, could only have come from northern style.
Not just was he a magic knight, but he was a multi-style magic knight.
Once more, the sword flashed toward my face like a striking viper, and once more, I narrowly survived as I tripped over my feet, gravity pulling me away from the fatal hit.
“Stay on the ground; get put six feet below it.”
Words of advice from years ago ringing out in my ears, I altered the course of my fall, turning it into a backward roll as his sword swiped through where my neck would have been.
Crap, crap, crap, crap, crap.
I had avoided three strikes and three deaths only by pure luck. I couldn’t keep this up. Lady luck would only watch over me for so long.
What do I do?
What do I do?
What do I do?
I was desperately searching for an answer, a way out, but none came to me. I tried tricking him, putting myself in harm’s way to force some opportunity, but he had blown past them all.
When his blade suddenly appeared before me fast as lightning, this time, I knew I was out of luck. I could see it all as if I had been caught flat-footed on the backpedal in slow motion. There was no way I could form a coherent defense in time to save myself. I closed my eyes, waiting for the bite of death.
Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.
Sorry, mom, I tried.
Holding my eyes closed, it wasn’t until a second had passed without any hint of pain that I peeked out, suspicious of why I was still alive.
To my surprise, the magic was staggering to his feet, flung away from me at the last second.
“You looked like you needed some help.”
My head whipped to the side, to the source of the voice as she jogged up to me, out of breath, patches of hair burnt away with soot covering her face, but very much alive.
“Sarah?”
“Duh. Unless I’ve suddenly become someone else.”
Even given the situation, I couldn’t help but grin.
“I take it these are the guys behind what’s happening in town?”
“Yeah.”
“Thought so. Everything was fine, but then the fire started exploding all around us. When I tried to fend it off with my magic, it began converging on me. It took everything I had to survive until a few minutes ago when it suddenly stopped harassing me.”
I nodded. Preoccupied with battling my mother, the mages had been unable to maintain their magic tracking spells.
“So, we just need to stop them, right?”
“Yeah, but we need to get through him first.” I pointed toward the magic knight she had blown away with a gust of air.
“Seems easy enough.” She smirked, throwing her hand out. “Rentar!”
A spike of earth ripped from the ground toward the man, but he likewise flung his hand out before it could reach him.
“Scortar!”
A similarly shaped spike met Sarah’s earthen spear. Where her earthen spear was made of rock and packed clay, the clashing spear that lanced out was a solid black metal, blowing apart her spell as easily as a child kicking over a sand castle.
“Uhm, Rook? Did you know he could do that?”
I could only stare at the man, surprise on my face. “No.”
He wasn’t just a magic knight.
He wasn’t just a multi-style magic knight.
He was a multi-style magic knight with earth and fire affinities and the ability to form them into composite magic.
“Girl, I was trying to have an honorable duel with the boy there. Now it’s two versus one. Not very honorable, is it?”
Sarah and I stared at one another, unsure what to say.
“If that’s the case, don’t blame me for this.”
A forest of black metal spikes burst from the ground in every direction, but Sarah dropped to one knee before they could pierce us, slamming her palms on the cold dirt.
“Rentar!”
A wave of earth rolled outward, overwhelming the spikes and destroying the terrain around us.
I stared at Sarah, unsure of what I had just seen. Such an explosion of magical power should have reduced her to unconsciousness. Still, she looked at me with only a single huff of exhaustion, a grin plastered across her face as if it had been nothing more than an uphill stroll.
“What the hell happen- ?”
“I don’t know either. For some reason, I feel like I’m overflowing with power right now.” Sarah said as she grabbed my outstretched hand.
The enemy magic knight was scowling at us, but he was holding off on attacking for a moment as if gauging us.
“Sarah.” I looked her in the eye, a plan forming in my mind. “Cover me.”
Not a sound plan, mind you, but it was still something.
“What are you thinking?” Sarah gave me her signature look of disproval, even without knowing what I had in mind.
“Just cover me. I can attack, but I can’t defend from his magic. It’s got to be you covering me.”
“Fine,” Sarah said before looking down at my side, worry forming on her face. “Rook!?”
“It’s nothing.” I lied.
“At least-” Sarah pressed her palm against my injury, eliciting a pained inhale from me. “-scorz.”
A flash of heat burnt my side as the scent of burning flesh spilled out from under her palm. The pain was immense but so short-lived that I had no time to react before she released my hand. “There, at least it won’t be bleeding freely now.”
“Thanks.” I tried my best to look appreciative. “Now, shall we?”
“You’re an idiot.” Sarah rolled her shoulders; hands outstretched as a faint smile formed. “But I guess we shall.”
I ran forward, holding my sword with renewed vigor as I focused solely on the man. All around me, I sensed more than saw as great black spikes shot forward but were quickly countered by extra thick columns of earth crashing against them. It was only through Sarah’s sudden magical growth that we had some semblance of a shot at surviving and even winning.
Just hold on for a bit longer, mom.
My blade swung forward before being met by the magic knight’s sword. His face was no longer relaxed and easygoing, beads of sweat now rolling down his forehead as he fended off our assault.
“You have no idea what you’re doing, kid.” He nearly hissed at me, his sword lashing out as I struck it away.
“Maybe not.” My attacks came out in a flurry of rapid strikes meant to wear him down. “But that’s my mom you’re after.”
With Sarah backing me up, I felt invincible, like we were always meant to work as a team rather than separately. My sword came from a low angle, and before where the man would have easily deflected my strike, I saw him barely react, the strain building and showing in his brow even more.
I grinned, my hypothesis proving correct. He had talked about fighting nobly and all that, yet I’d begun to suspect that, perhaps, it wasn’t a matter of fighting nobly at all. Instead, attempting to split his concentration between magic and our clash of swords was challenging to maintain, a taxing mental effort. By continuing to press the man with magic, he would be unable to bear the full force of his magic against me. Regardless of his skill and prowess, he was still only one man, and a man missing a hand at that.
We could do this.
His sword flashed forward toward my chin, but he narrowly missed as I stepped back and out of the way. In return, I grasped the pommel of my sword with both hands, striking forward with a heavy downward swing, emulating the aggressive style of the desert region. His eyes widened, but before he could dodge the strike, a small rolling earth wave formed beneath his foot, tripping him.
“Screw…you!” I yelled, and using as much of my strength as I could muster, the flat of my blade slammed down onto his shoulder blade. The man dropped to one knee as my leg kicked forward, my foot catching him square in the face.
With a heavy thud, the man collapsed, unconscious. I fell to the ground a moment after as the exhaustion hit me like a sledgehammer.
My body was screaming, and I wanted nothing more than to nap.
But.
But my mother was still fending for herself.
“Sarah.” I huffed. I could hear her running steps as she grabbed me.
“Rook! Are you ok?”
“Dunno.” My words were slurring, but I pointed forward. “Mom.”
“Right.” She huffed, looking from me toward my mother. “Got it.”
I may have been out of energy to keep fighting, but Sarah at least seemed full of vigor. In an unfamiliar move, she clasped her hands together in front of her like she was holding something between them.
“Fretar.”
Had I not already been bone tired, the utterance would have caused me to do a double-take. From between her hands, two lances of ice exploded forward like crossbow bolts.
Fretar. The composite form of ice and earth magic.
The thing was, Sarah had not once shown off any composite magic, only ever capable of using the primal elements of wild magic.
Where is she getting this from?
Two muted grunts later, as giant icicles skewered the mages, the battle was over. The two enemy mages battling my mother had been so preoccupied with her that they were unprepared for Sarah’s surprise attack; their companion, who was supposed to prevent such backstabs now out of commission.
Or so I thought.
Before I could even think of relaxing, I felt the wind rush around me, a vortex centered directly on the magic knight I had knocked unconscious.
“Your joking,” I muttered, still flat on the ground.
The man stood back up, but something about him had changed in the brief moments he had been unconscious; an absolute power exuded from him. It was as if the air itself weighed down upon us, dense like he was the center of a storm swell; the energy radiating from him felt like it was grating on my very bones.
“Hate this.” The man said, dusting himself off. As he did, the arm I had dismembered began to ripple and flex, his flesh regrowing with a sickening, crawling sound.
“I was commanded to deal with this discretely, you know? So I capped my power and even funneled it through my two subordinates. And what do you go and do? Kill them. Now my hand is forced.”
I’d messed up. I gifted him this second chance by not killing the man when I had the opportunity.
But how was I supposed to know this would happen?
“Sarah!” I heard my mother yell out. A moment later, it was as if the world was spinning around.
No, not the world. I think I’m the one spinning.
When everything had stopped spinning, I was lying on the ground next to my mother and Sarah.
“Help me.” I had never seen my mother look as desperate as she was now. Even when she had been fighting the two mages from earlier, she had seemed collected and composed.
“What- what is he?”
“Ornnax band, at least.” My mother whispered, and even out of it as I was, I felt my body shudder.
“Ornnax?” Sarah stared at my mother in confusion, not familiar with the ranks of adventurers like I was.
“Help me.” My mother said, watching the Sage hunting stranger.
Sarah nodded, and together they raised their hands, power swirling between them as they readied themselves.
“And not just am I stuck having to use my full power, it’s against two country bumpkins. There is no Sage here. A waste of time. So instead, I’m doing all this just for a witch past her prime, her only relevance being the family she comes from. Beneath me, I swear.”
Danger.
Everything was screaming danger within me. I had to get up, had to help. Danger was coming.
“Rook?” My mother looked at me as I forced myself back to my feet, shakily holding my sword before me as if that would do anything.
“Can’t… do…. nothing.” I huffed, my sword feeling like it would fall from my hands at any moment.
My mother smiled, and that was how I knew things were bad. Ordinarily, she would chastise me for trying to act tough.
Now, she seemed grim, as if trying her best to put on a show of anything other than hopelessness.
“Here it comes.” Sarah looked toward my mother as the magic knight flicked his wrist.
Death.
That was what I felt as a wave of oppressive power that preluded his magic rolled over us.
“Sanctum.” I saw his lips utter.
“Now!” My mother shouted, and combing their magical might, a lance of white-hot fire was shot between them, heavier, somehow more… real, as if it weighed upon the world itself.
It was the most astounding act of magic I had ever seen.
And it did nothing.
Absolutely nothing.
The fire reached him or should have reached the man, but only an arm's distance away, it vanished as the fire was extinguished instantly.
“What?” My mother’s voice hitched, saying what we were all thinking.
Magic didn’t do that. Not without a countering force. It didn’t just expire as if it had never been there.
“See? This is what I mean. Like having an army deal with a couple of ants.” The man sighed, sauntering toward us as if nothing of note had happened.
Somehow he was magic-immune. That was all I could think of.
It must be me.
I gripped my sword tightly, raising it in front of me as I swallowed some nonexistent spittle.
“Fight me,” I called out, my voice hoarse and dried out from the sudden blast of heat that had evaporated all the moisture.
“Hmm?” The man tilted his head at me before he smiled once. “The only one of note here.”
I felt my hopes rise. Maybe, just maybe, I could at least make him focus on me and give Sarah and my mother a chance to escape.
“But I’m afraid there will be no more games played.”
The magic knight vanished, and I sensed as he appeared behind me.
Next to my mother and Sarah.
“Never liked kids with an ego just because they have a bit of magic.”
His hand snapped out, chopping Sarah in the back of her neck. A guttural cry of horror escaped me as the chop hit her with so much force she instantly went limp, her head twisting so far to one side that there was no doubt her spinal cord had been obliterated.
“As for you, Witch, you’ll be wanted alive.” I turned to see the man grabbing my mother by the neck.
“Please!” I called out, tears streaming down my face. “Take me instead!”
“Sorry, kid. I’m doing you a favor by not bringing you in in the first place, considering you’re one of them. But, as you’re untainted by magic and have a lot of guts, we’ll call this the respect you’ve earned.”
And just like that, he was gone, a shower of red sparks appearing around him as he and my mother disappeared.
I couldn’t hold myself together any longer. I dropped to my knees, sobs escaping from me.
My village had been burnt to the ground.
My best friend had been killed.
And now my mother had been taken.
Another sob ripped free from me.
Why?
Why?
What had I done?
Why did I deserve this?
I sucked in a breath, my body needing oxygen to replace what I had lost in my sobs, when a voice called out, one I recognized.
“Would you shut it? I swear, kids are so noisy.”
I slowly turned around, unsure of what was going on.
Sarah was standing there.
Sarah, who I had just watched die before my very eyes.
“In hindsight, why are you crying like a kid?” Sarah looked at me, but something about her face seemed wrong, as if someone else were wearing it.
“S-Sarah?” I felt my words warble out of me, filled with uncertainty.
“Sarah. That was her name, was it?” Sarah seemed curious, patting away at her body. “Hmm. Proportions are roughly what I delineated, perhaps a little on the young side.”
“Sarah? W-what, who- is that you?”
Sarah, my best friend, my only friend, shook her head as if what I had said was a stupid question, the look on her face one I had grown to know, but now somehow so alien. “Of course not. Do you not recognize a Sage when one stands before you? And not just any Sage, but the Sage Above All.”
“Are- are you ok, Sarah? Did that hit confuse you?”
Sarah, I refused to believe it wasn’t Sarah, shook her head at me. “Well, it appears a mistake was made in your case. Apologies, my short-lived apprentice.” She bowed her head to me before turning away, my confusion only worsening.
“Sarah, what’s going on?”
“Kids, I swear, you only put things together after seeing it. Well, be that as it may, I think I know what will convince you.” Sarah snapped her fingers before pointing toward the sky. I felt the air stir, not just in the near vicinity but everywhere, like a massive storm was about to roll in.
“Seal.”
Before us, where the man who had taken my mother had disappeared, purple electrical sparks exploded as if spilling through the cracks in space. A second later, the man was back, looking very confused, with my mother in tow.
“What the -” The man looked around before his gaze locked onto Sarah. “You. So you were a Sage, after all.”
“At least somebody understands.” Sarah seemed pleased, throwing her hands up as if basking in her glory.
“Change of plans. Guess I can bring back a Sage after all.” The man said, smiling.
“So you’re hunting Sages. A Sage hunter, if you will. Intriguing.” Sarah was scratching at her nose as if it was a novel thought. “Well then, please, do give it a try.”
The man threw my mother to the side, and I dove forward, catching her in my arms.
“Sanctum.” The man shouted, a dome of yellow visibly appearing around him this time.
“Boring.” Sarah sighed before waving her hand toward the dome. “Would you like me to take you seriously or play around?”
The man flung a hand toward Sarah with a shout. “Drain.”
A wave of dark miasma spilled from his clenched fist.
Sarah yawned.
“Play around, I guess.” Sarah gestured toward the cloud as if it were an annoying pest. “Seal.”
The black cloud fizzled out of existence as the word escaped her mouth.
“Smite!” The man shouted, a bolt of energy cracking out from his hand.
“Seal.” The energy passed through Sarah like nothing more than a light show.
“Burn!” The man raised his arms as if summoning something, but still, Sarah seemed unphased.
“Alright, enough. No point playing around with such a low-caliber mockery of a real Sage. Seal.”
Whatever magic the man had been conjuring fizzled out, the yellow dome around him vanishing.
“What?” It was the man’s turn to be confused, but he received no answer. Sarah instead pointed an index finger toward him before smiling once, something about the innocuous expression seeming wrong.
That’s not Sarah. The realization hit me like a sack of bricks, Sarah would never make a face like that, never smile with such brutal delight, reveling in her superiority over another.
“Now, let me show you what power really looks like.”
“I do not need a lecture from one like yourself.” The Sage hunter spat at her, but not-Sarah shook her head.
“Oh, this wasn’t directed to you, as you won’t be alive to comprehend it.” Not-Sarah looked back at me, sharing a quick wink before turning back to face the man. “Scorz.”
The man managed a single scream before he fell to his knees, an orange glow faintly emitting from his every orifice as he was burned alive from the inside out.
The thing wearing Sarah’s face turned toward me with a self-satisfied smirk on her face.
“Now then, are you convinced?”
“W-who are you? What are you?” I whispered.
“I am one of the Great Sages, the empress of time and slayer of the sun. I am The Sage Above All.” She threw her hands up, once more basking in her own glory, before, arms dropping back to her side, she stared at me with curious eyes.
“The real question though-” Sarah, or not-Sarah, leaned asked, leaning in close. “Is, who you aren’t?”