By the next day they had reached the town Greyson resided in. It consisted of a large hill beside a forest with a river running along side it. A thick wall of sharpened logs circled around the town protecting it from invasion be it man or beast. The only way inside was across a bridge leading to a gate guarded by two men armed and armored.
On the outside of the wall was a string of farms each growing different grain and produce from wheat to potatoes. Guards on horseback went back and forth through the farms and the scene was too familiar for comfort.
A path spiraled upward throughout the town and slowly rose in elevation. Reuben could see at the very end of the path a small fort stood at the very peak of the hill overlooking the rest of the town below. Reuben wondered what sort of man resided in the fort.
Going through the gate, Reuben was met with a handful of a dozen or so small wooden shacks that looked like they could fall apart at any moment. The sorcerer led Reuben over to the nearest one- a hole filled shack with a door one kick away from flying off its holdings. He opened the door and left it open, only closing it after Reuben walked in. The inside was dark with the only lighting being the Sun shining through the holes in the roof.
After a long sigh, his new mentor said, “You won’t leave if I ask you to, and you won’t leave if I slam dirt at you. Not sure what else I can do at this point so I’ll just keep you around for some fun. Consider it my own training Truth is, you annoy the hell out of me. You’re like a parasite I can’t shake. So I figure I’ll keep you around as target practice.”
Reuben raised an eyebrow, “Target practice?”
The fist to his gut was the only answer he needed. Reuben strained his eyes as his stomach tensed with pain and his knees buckled. Before he could fall forward onto the wood floor, the sorcerer caught him and held him up.
“Yeah. I’m hoping if I beat you up enough you’ll finally go home and leave me alone. Or at this point just to an orphanage or something, I don’t really care,” he said, forcing Reuben back onto his feet.
Pushing the stronger man away, Reuben got back to his feet on his own and stood his ground. He said shakily, “Whatever. Besides, that was nothing. Barely even-”
Scowling, the sorcerer slammed his fist into his gut again. If Reuben had eaten more he would have vomited, but instead his body settled for collapsing onto the ground. This time the sorcerer didn’t bother helping him up.
Seeing him lay there, the sorcerer said, “If you can’t see a punch coming from a middle aged man then you sure as hell can’t do anything against a beast or a sorcerer flinging magic at you. You want to be a sorcerer? You aren’t even a fighter!”
“Fine…” Reuben said in a quiet voice as he forced himself back to his feet. He let out a few low grunts as he struggled to control his breathing again.
Again the sorcerer flung his fist forward, stopping only at the very last second as his knuckles met the fabric of Reuben’s shirt. A half second later and Reuben’s body tensed as his arms went over his body to protect himself.
“Too slow. Hmm, are you hungry?” He began walking over to a stand in the corner of the room. He started shuffling around and took out two bottles of water and a bag of some kind of nut.
Reuben nodded slowly, “I could eat. Do I just get food or will I have to wrestle it out of your arms?”
With his lips curling into something that could almost be called a smile if Reuben didn’t know better, the sorcerer said, “You can eat your fill. I’m too tired to do much more swinging around. I’ll throw you through the ringer tomorrow. For today you can enjoy what can be considered your last free meal.” He slid the water bottle over to Reuben as he drank his own.
Between drinks, Reuben asked, “So what is your name anyways? My name is Reuben.”
“Greyson,” Greyson said. Like everything else he said, he seemed to throw the word at Reuben with a cloud of disgust. “Don’t expect me to call you by your name. Far as I’m concerned you’re just the little vermin clinging to me. Not really worth a name or considering.”
Reuben shrugged, “Fine. It doesn’t make any difference to me. So long as you teach me magic.”
Greyson laughed and said, “Like I said, you aren’t even a fighter yet. Let alone ever being a sorcerer. Here’s what will happen, kid. Everyday I’m going to hurt you. I’m going to beat you. I’m going to break you. I will be cruel and violent until you finally get the hell away from me. Each time you refuse, I'm just going to hurt you worse. So, considering all that, will you just make it easy on both of us and leave?”
“And if I don’t?” Reuben challenged, ignoring the proposition. “If I get through everything you throw at me? What then?”
“Just eat your damn food and shut up,” Greyson replied. He rolled his eyes and pushed himself away. He walked across the small home and fell onto his bed, sinking into it. “Sun’s setting so I’m going to bed. Wake me up and I’ll snap your neck in two.”
Before Reuben could ask where he was meant to sleep, Greyson’s thundering snores began filling the room.
Reuben sighed and said to himself, “I guess I’ll just… Sleep on the floor then.” He threw his clothes on the ground and balled his bag into something vaguely resembling a pillow. As he laid there looking up at the dark ceiling and listened to Greyson;’s snores he couldn’t help but ask himself, “Is this what I want?” He held his stomach, still sore from the punches. He took a deep breath and said, “Yeah. Yeah it is.” Not like he had any choice either way.
There was a burning pain rising up in Reuben’s legs. Each step increased the pain and he had to keep wondering if they had suddenly burst into flames. The only sensation worse than his burning legs was the fire creeping into his lungs as he wheezed and struggled not to fall over.
Finally when it was too much, when his body couldn’t take anymore, he tumbled over to his knees. He felt his breakfast rising back up in his stomach as he blinked sweat from his eyes.
Crack! A small stone slammed into Reuben’s back and he collapsed onto the floor. He lay there like a corpse, unable to move through the exhaustion and discomfort.
Earlier that morning Greyson had said to him, “You're much too arrogant given your ignorance. You don't even realize that magic is as much of a physical task as it is anything else. Wielding the elements takes its toll on you. It can be exhausting. You’re fighting to control nature itself. Nature often fights back. A scrawny kid like you isn't suited for that work.”
Reuben took a sip of the stale water Greyson got from the well. He said, “So I should get practice wielding magic right? We should figure out what type of sorcerer I am so that-”
Greyson interrupted him, putting up a hand. “No. What I need to do- is work on my endurance. So what you're going to do is run, a lot. And if you slow down or stop then I’m going to beat your ass. If you can’t outpace me then you sure as hell won’t be able to keep up with the fundamental forces of reality itself. Besides, I need a moving target anyways for precision training.”
And so ten minutes later Reuben was trying to keep his legs from turning to lead and coming to a dead stop. The effort was exhausting, but that wasn’t the worst part. Not by a long shot.
True to his word, every time Reuben stopped he was pelted and hit. He lay there desperately trying to get back to his feet, trying to stand up despite the chunks of stone bouncing off his legs, back, and stomach.
“Done already, huh? Good. Maybe now you can see how pathetic this goal is. Can't even run a mile,” Greyson proclaimed smugly as he lobbed another piece of earth into Reuben’s side.
The goading only dulled the pain for Reuben. His arm reached out and he smacked the earth away. He squinted his eyes and grunted with anger as he pushed himself back onto his tired legs. As he did, the pelting stopped. Reuben said, “I’m not done, damn it. I’m not done.”
So once again he began running forward. Once again he forced his legs to move. With every step Greyson ran right beside him, ready to punish him at any second.
In the end it took about an hour to run the three laps around the town wall. Between Reuben pausing and having to get up from being attacked it took much longer.
If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.
Of course Greyson was far from impressed. “I used to be able to get all three laps in under half that time. A boy like you with all your youth and energy, though? Should be even quicker. Guess you're not all that, huh?”
“Whatever,” Reuben said through huffs and puffs. He was completely exhausted and his skin was soaked with sweat. A part of him wanted to run away, to stop forcing himself to go through anymore. Yet he laughed at the pathetic thought. One jog had been enough to turn him away? He refused. So he asked, “What’s next then?”
“Oh how glad I am, you asked,” Greyson replied with a grin. That grin did not bring the exhausted boy any comfort. Greyson continued, “Now that your body is warmed up, we can start working it by seeing how good you are at hand to hand combat.”
Reuben threw his hands up to try and cover his face and stomach at the same time. Greyson shook his head at the sad display and said, “I’ll at least show you how to actually stand and put your arms up. The fights I get into aren’t with wimpy untrained bumpkins so I can’t have you dulling my skills too much.”
He started manipulating Reuben’s limp arms and forcing them by his head into a boxer’s stance. He explained, “Now you can move your arms around your body more. Move your elbows down to block body shots and up to block headshots. Got it?”
Reuben nodded slowly. “Yeah I-”
The punch to his ribs sent him crumpling to the floor.
On the way back to the shack Reuben struggled with every step. His body was covered in bruises and his legs refused to take more then tiny baby steps. He constantly had to resist the urge to vomit or completely collapse altogether.
As they walked,Greyson refused to offer help and Reuben refused to ask for any. No matter how much it hurt, Reuben refused to show that he needed to lean on the sorcerer for support. So he clenched his jaw and forced himself to stay upright.
With every effort Reuben put into staying standing, every time he got back up from a punch, Greyson felt his blood boiling.
Not even asking for help? Why did some nobody like him think he had what it took to be some hot shot sorcerer? It was a pathetic delusional fantasy. And yet… Reuben kept standing. He was exactly versed in beating up children- but he imagined most of them would have ran home crying by now. Bah- yeah right. It had only been one day and Greyson was pulling his punches tenfold. He just needed to step it up a notch.
Greyson retorted, “I hope tomorrow you actually do something. You couldn’t make it three miles, and you didn’t block a single punch. Extremely pulled punches might I add.”
Reuben declared, “Tomorrow I’ll do better. Then the day after that… and eventually I’m going to kick your ass.”
Always so aggressive. Greyson couldn’t resist pushing the boy over as he fell with an oomph. The more Reuben made bold claims like that, the more enjoyment Greyson got out of seeing him tumble. Yet the angrier it made him when Reuben got back up, clinging to his claim. In the two short days Greyson had known Reuben, he really did not like him already.
Finally they made it back to Greyson’s small wooden shack on the outskirts of the town’s residents district. The door swung open and Reuben half walked in, half stumbled onto the ground. He fell onto his makeshift bed, finally able to relax.
“You’re probably hungry. I’ll make some stew for supper,’ Greyson said, rummaging around for ingredients and throwing out two bowls. As much as he hated the kid leeching off his food, he still couldn't just starve him to death. Although who knows, maybe enough pestering and he would be pushed to that point.
As they began eating, Reuben asked, “When you became a sorcerer what was your training like?
Greyson thought on it for a second. He said, “I fought. That's what my training was like. I went after all those hot shot sorcerers who thought they were something- and I slammed a rock straight into their nose. Just duel after duel till there was no one left to fight."
“Did you ever lose?” Reuben asked then went, “And when can I actually start learning magic?”
“You could learn magic when you actually manage to impress me or make me able to tolerate the sight of you, which isn't something I see happening anytime soon. So I wouldn't count on it," Greyson assured him.
Realizing he ignored the first part, Reuben repeated, "Did you ever lose?"
He could see Greyson's cheek tense at the question and decided to drop it.
Reuben slurped down the rest of his stew and said, “Fine. So then how did you end up becoming… I don’t know, an official sorcerer? Whatever it is you do.”
“I’m a Scouting Sorcerer. It’s a fancy term meaning I go around the kingdom taking on contracts to hunt beasts spotted where they shouldn't be,” Greyson explained. He took his own slurp then said, “I attended the Sorcerer Battle Tournament and won it. So the king decided to assign me to a chunk of the kingdom where I could put my skills to use.”
Suddenly Reuben’s ears perked up. He leaned over and asked, “Sorcerer Battle Tournament? What’s that?”
“Nothing you can handle, that’s what it is.” Greyson took a long slurp of his stew and finished it off. He set the bowl down and continued, “It’s a big tournament hosted in the capital. Old king Charles attends it and assigns the most powerful sorcerers special jobs and statuses. If they accept they’re guaranteed a life of... well, whatever they want, honestly.”
“And you decided to live in a shack in the middle of nowhere” Reuben replied, looking around the windowless room they were sat in. He asked, “So when is the tournament?”
Greyson grabbed the emptied bowls and tossed them onto a shelf in the corner. He sat back down and as he wiped his beard he said, “It’s hosted every five years. The last one was a year ago so I’m hoping you’re smart enough to understand when the next one is.”
“Four years huh? I bet I could be ready by then,” Reuben replied. “I handled myself against you in the forest, didn’t I? If the rest of the sorcerers are that much of a pushover, I don’t see why I couldn’t make it.”
In the same way Greyson was gaining a growing hatred for the boy and his arrogance, Reuben only felt he had to be bolder. Every comment, every action had become one of defiance against the sorcerer. Reuben would take any chance to insult him or prove him wrong, to cement himself as someone who could beat him.
“Your arrogance is charming, and I’m tempted to sign you up just to see your bones broken in, but it isn’t an open invitation. You need two recommendations from sorcerers who have competed. I don’t see how you’ll find two schmucks who’ll sign off, and I am far from impressed enough to sign you off. You don’t even know magic,” Greyson remarked.
Reuben shot up, “Only because you won’t even test my abilities!”
“Oh I’ve spent the last few hours testing them. Can’t exactly say I’m impressed. Also I’m not exactly in my prime you little punk. I’m a lot closer to the age people die then the age they’re born. Especially for a sorcerer…” he muttered.
“What do you mean?” Reuben asked, curious.
“Well,” Greyson began, “Most sorcerers get killed in action fairly young. They run off to the front lines to face the beasts or become dedicated hunters. Some take up jobs like officers of the law or even a guard. Either way, usually dangerous stuff. But all that aside, magic takes a toll on your body. It’s like walking through a desert everyday with weights on your back. When you try to control nature it takes more of you then your soul is meant to handle. Average lifespan of a sorcerer is thirty to forty years.”
This sent a morbid shiver through Reuben’s spin. Suddenly he noticed the strands of gray hairs which criss-crossed through Greyson’s auburn head of hair. He saw the thick lines across his forehead and the sunken depths of his eyes. Even his skin suddenly seemed a bit more worn. He asked, “Well how old are you?”
“Thirty one years old,’ Greyson replied before breaking into a coughing fit. He let out a weak groan and said, “I’m hoping a beast will kill me before old age does. It would be unsightly for a sorcerer to rot away like that, but damn if it isn't difficult killing myself off.”
“You’d said death is death no matter what,” Reuben remarked, remembering their exchange in the forest. “Does it really matter?”
Greyson replied, “No, not really. I could be robbed and stabbed right now and it wouldn’t make much of a difference. But I’d rather die against an actual beast then something pathetic like old age. I suppose I'm vain that way.”
“Have you ever come close? To something out there killing you?”
A series of memories flashed through Greyson’s eyes. He said, “More times then I can count. I’ve dragged my bloody corpse across a few miles, patched up my arm before it rotted off, broken too many damn bones to count. Seems the longer I go at it the stronger the damned things out there are getting. Bigger, faster, and smarter.”
“Have there always been beasts?” Reuben asked curiously. He realized how little he knew about the world having lived in a secluded village for so long where no one really knew much else other then stories from people passing through.
By now Greyson was getting a bit tired of so many questions. He said, “No. There’s always been animals but at some point a couple centuries back they started getting bigger and meaner. Now the only thing that can really kill a beast is a sorcerer. Used to be any old idiot with a sword or bow could take down just about anything. Tell you what. There’s a library in town if you want to learn more. Can you read?”
“No…” Reuben said quietly.
Greyson groaned, “Of course you can’t. In the future keep your questions to a minimum, I'm not your encyclopedia. Besides, we have work to do. Come on.”
Suddenly the sorcerer was up. Reuben stood up two and followed him out the door saying, “Where are we going now?”
“It’s a surprise!” Greyson replied with a hint of excitement in his voice. He wanted to throw another obstacle at Reuben.
For a split second Reuben felt afraid. He could feel bruises becoming welts and there was still fatigue in his bones. He took a deep breath and decided whatever was thrown at him he would be able to handle.
Wherever they were going, it was at the other end of the town. Greyson led the two of them through the spiral path and as they did Reuben took in every little detail of the town.
In the middle of the lower district consisting of small homes and people in poor garments and the upper district they were heading to, there was a market. It was a large open circle with vendors and merchants all shouting out advertising food, clothes, and even weapons. Long lines stretched out from each one and the two of them had to weave their way past busy folks buying their goods.
Like everywhere else the market had a few armed guards here and there. They had fine armor on and wielded a sword and shield to protect themselves from whatever might break out. Yet Reuben couldn’t help but remember how easily the beast’s teeth tore through the armor the guards at his village wore.
Making it past the market they came to a patch of land donning various wooden homes about twice the size of the ones Greyson and the rest were living in. Yet they still kept going.
When Reuben thought they would be going all the way to the fort at the very end, Greyson finally came to a stop. In front of where they stood was a curved U shaped building about the same as four of the larger homes stacked together. In the distance Reuben could hear swords clashing and men grunting.
“Where are we?” Reuben asked as they began walking to the thick wooden doors at the very front.
As Greyson swung open the door revealing men running back and forth in various levels of armor, he said, “This is the guard’s barracks. You’re going to become skilled with a weapon.”