The Gift of Magic (The Shadowmage Saga) Page 11

  “They taught methods of building and agriculture, mining and smelting to create various metals, even sharing magical lore. But the magic was too alien and complex for them to understand, and none of the humans back then even had the inherent ability to use mana. Eventually that too changed once bloodlines intermingled, and the first human magicians were born. The majority of Ancients became appalled at what was going on and tried to intervene, however that only resulted in catastrophe as the conflict between elder race and human magicians escalated beyond madness.

  “The first Mage War changed the face of the lands. Even the Ancient’s capitol came under siege, and in the end the entire city was submerged in order to protect its wealth of knowledge.

  “Legend tells us it was during the first war many new races were brought here as magicians from both sides desperately turned to alternative sources of power. They travelled the higher and lower plains looking for allies that could help tip the balance of war, and from that struggle emerged elves, dwarves, giants, goblins and plenty of other creatures.

  “At the height of the war, when both sides seemed equally balanced, a powerful being appeared. Older even than the Ancients, it came with destruction on its lips, death as its vanguard, and darkness unlike ever seen before.”

  “What was it?” Alex asked, “Some kind of interstellar monster?”

  “No, not a monster,” laughed Archer, but after a moment became serious once more and continued. “Although it took human form it was definitely not of this world. We only know it by one name: the Shadowmage. The power he wielded was terrifying, brutal and unmerciful. He stopped entire armies with a single spell. Moved mountains with a gesture of his hand, and rained destruction to those who stood in his way.

  “Eventually the war was over, but no one left to claim victory. In truth no one won. The surviving Ancients and human magicians scattered or went into hiding. Of the Shadowmage very little knowledge remains intact, except for a few scraps of tattered parchment and deteriorating tomes. Some of the other races might know more about him, who his people were and where he originally came from. But since the First war he has never reappeared.

  “For thousands of years a period of peace was maintained across the lands. Most of the Ancients went into isolation and we suspect eventually died out. The human descendants, armed with the knowledge of the Ancients, decided to create laws to prevent another Mage War from occurring. Unfortunately, a minority group of magicians were against the new laws, believing them to be unnecessarily restrictive. That pretty much started the Second Mage War.

  “Those were the darkest times in our history, when rogue magicians roamed the lands in search of greater power, which was eventually discovered in Egypt during the fourth dynasty. Temple priests to King Menkaure began experimenting with magic taken from the ancient Sumerians. They hoped to prolong life or return a soul from the Underworld, thus began the Cult of Necromancy and the quest for true mastery over death.

  “By uncovering the secrets of the Underworld the priests were able to summon demons and various 'undead' to do their bidding. It was during this time, over four thousand years ago, that the vampire race was accidentally created. The priests harnessed the powers of lesser and greater demons and infused it into their own bodies. Admittedly they believed it would make them immortal and capable of wielding ultimate power, which in a way is true, but there was a price to be paid. The strengths and longevity of the vampire race was traded for an unquenchable blood thirst and vulnerability to silver.”

  “Why silver? Is there some special magical property of silver that only affects vampires?”

  “A vampire’s power is greatest at night, especially during a new moon. Sunlight weakens them considerably, and the Moon acts simply as a giant reflector at night. What has that got to do with silver? In alchemy, silver is strongly associated with the Moon, and that was the trade-off: power of night for weakness of light.

  “The war turned in their favour with the introduction of this new weapon. Magicians of that time didn’t find a way to counter the threat until it was almost too late. On the verge of losing, they resorted to similar experimentation with ancient magic, but rather than relying on demons and spirits of the Underworld, the magicians turned to the power of Nature.

  “The druids call her Gaia, the Mother of the Earth, or Mother Nature. They believe she is real and can communicate with her, pleading for her favour and blessings in times of strife and great need. Most magicians don’t consider Gaia to be an actual entity, but more like an enormous consciousness composed of a collective.

  “I’ll try my best to explain. When we die, our mana, our life energy, returns to a source, taking with it our experiences, emotions, and knowledge. Over time, this source has evolved a consciousness of its own. It has awareness, it thinks, we don’t know if it experiences emotions the same way we do, but otherwise it fits all the requirements as a sentient being. Humans have been worshipping it for millennia, just under different names. Praying to the Sun God as the ancient Aztec did is the same as worshipping Poseidon, which is the same as Gaia. This entity is everywhere, so no matter what you believe in, pray to or worship, it’s all the same.

  “But magicians of the past liked to assign different attributes or natures to the various aspects of the entity. Fire was chaotic and destructive like an exploding volcano. Water was soothing for the mind and is associated with psychic magic. Forests, filled with trees and plants and wildlife, became the domain of renewal, rejuvenation and healing. Nature was life. So they invoked Gaia’s nature and created a new life form; strong as a mighty oak tree yet flexible and dexterous as a sapling. It was also capable of rapid regeneration and had immunity to poisons or other toxins. And what better symbol of nature’s ferocity than the wolf? Thus was born the lycan race - werewolves: a blending of man and nature.

  “The balance of war was once again restored, but as time passed they saw no end to the destruction and loss of life. The stalemate would see no final victor, so those few remaining magicians on both sides decided to quit and go separate ways.

  “Magicians segregated into two distinct groups: Light and Dark. Again, don’t confuse it with Good vs Evil. Dark mages follow a different set of laws than we do, and although we disagree with them they aren’t necessarily evil. Unethical, immoral, and plain selfish is probably the best way to describe Dark mages.

  “So, Light and Dark scattered to the four corners of the world and since then neither side has attempted to raise the war banner again. Vampires and lycan were left to fend for themselves. The werewolves have become mistrustful of all magicians, but on several occasions they’ve sided with us, mainly because we try to stem the increasing number of vampires from spilling too much human blood. The lesser 'undead' – ghosts, skeletons, and zombies, can easily be controlled by the more powerful races like demons and vampires. Similar with werewolves: they are able to command the wildlife and spirits of the forest such as nymphs, fairies and sprites.

  “While the lycan may not be our ally they certainly despise vampires as abominations against nature.”

  The fire had died down to mere embers as Archer finished her recounting of the past wars. They continued to sit for some time until even the faint glow of the coals could no longer chase away the encroaching shadows.

  Sleep, when it finally came to Alex, was filled with terrible nightmares. A mighty host of Dark mages, ‘undead’ and demonic minions ravaged the world, like an unstoppable flood of darkness, crashing against the walls of a single lonely bastion willing to stand in its way. Stretching forth his hand everything was destroyed.

  Chapter Ten

  Ducking and dodging the incoming attacks, Alex struck with his left palm to take his opponent in the side. Expecting to hit something solid his counter-attack missed its mark completely. His opponent was certainly quick and definitely no stranger to hand-to-hand combat. His own skill at martial arts was being pushed to its limit, and eventually Alex realised this fight would come down to whoever ma
de the next mistake.

  Sporting bruises all over, fatigue was slowly draining what little of his strength remained. Like a game of chess, if he didn’t pull off something unexpected in the next few moments his defeat would be guaranteed. Confidence in his fighting ability could only sustain Alex for so long, and judging from his opponent’s precise movements and attacks fatigue was nowhere in evidence.

  Damn she’s good.

  Executing a quick leg sweep, Alex anticipated Archer's jump, but with her higher vantage point she was able to follow through with a series a kicks aimed at his head. Rolling to one side Alex avoided the attack, but his opponent was two moves ahead and performed a low sweep as he tried to get up. Awkwardly, Alex fell on his side. Fighting the urge to give up he rolled away to put some distance between him and his opponent. With a flipping motion Archer was back on her feet. Coming up again in a crouch, Alex instinctively blocked a kick to his head. Grabbing her outstretched leg he used his weight to bring her down.

  Archer had no choice but to fall with the motion or suffer a broken ankle. With the advantage in his favour, Alex used his own legs to wrap around his opponent. Twisting and applying pressure to the foot in his control Archer gave a soft yell of submission and tapped out. As Alex undid the leg bar he extended his hand to help Archer back to her feet. Her face was flushed but from personal disappointment rather than any physical exertion.

  They had been sparring most of the morning, and with Archer's extensive knowledge of fighting, it soon became obvious she held the upper hand. At first her intentions were benign; she was merely testing his proficiency at unarmed combat. No weapons, no magic, a simple contest of skill and strategy. The first few fights were definitely one-sided as her superior skill dominated his meagre training, but the longer they fought the more he learned.

  Studying her moves, Alex was able to adapt and effectively counter-attack despite being nowhere near Archer’s skill level. Reconsidering his fighting style, Alex borrowed some new moves from his opponent and used them to his advantage. It wasn’t long before he was able to beat her at her own game and finally win a match.

  Tempted to demand a rematch, Archer noticed her opponent was in no condition to continue fighting, and in a moment of contrition realised she had been going at him harder than was necessary. Reaching up she took his offered hand and got to her feet. Dusting herself off, Archer stood for a moment to regard her battered and bruised student, who was trying to regain his breath and slow his thumping heart.

  Walking slowly back to the villa, Archer reminisced on her own time spent training. At barely a hundred years old she was considered having just passed childhood and into adolescence. From that moment on it was traditional for her to being training in martial combat. Her full-blooded brothers had undergone the rites of passage and had passed their testings - now it was her turn, and she was determined to prove herself.

  The sacred glade where Archer now silently sat, meditating, hardly seemed the ideal place for a martial testing ground. The sun was shining, no clouds marred the azure sky, and songbirds filled the air with a soothing melody. Sitting cross-legged beneath the shade of gently swaying willows, she tried to push aside all fears and worries. Despite receiving the best training, she was still only half-elven and would never measure up to her brothers.

  Her human mother had often chided her about such thoughts. Promising she was just as good as her brothers and would pass her testing, but Archer still had doubts. Very few half-bloods ever passed the combat stage, but those that did, gained the respect of all elves, young and old. Joining the ranks of the Elite was the highest honour in itself, but as a half-blood her acceptance was conditional on successfully passing this trial by combat.

  Impatience slowly gnawed at her self-control, and Archer was forced to abandon her meditation. Usually she had no problems in calming her mind and body, but today’s testing was just too important to forget. Supressing a sigh of frustration she realised the meditation was necessary. Without focus and heightened perception she was liable to miss something critical, and that was the quickest way to being defeated.

  Closing her eyes, Archer went through the mental exercises that would slow thought and function. A calm stole over Archer as she sat, waiting, and eventually found a place of sublime isolation within. All thought ceased. Her breathing was so shallow it was impossible to see the rise and fall of her chest. Heartbeat slowed to the point where she could easily be mistaken as no longer alive. And in this sea of calmness Archer became aware of everything around her.

  A solitary leaf rustled as it blew across the short grass. It should have continued on but something had caused it to stop, and straining her half-elven senses to the maximum she couldn’t hear or detect anything. She opened her eyes, expecting to see her Weapons Master standing there.

  The glade was empty.

  Sunlight pattered down, creating shifting shadows defined by the rustling willow leaves. The air barely stirred. She could have sworn the leaf had been stopped unnaturally. Yet looking around she was completely alone. About to put down her guard she remembered an old saying her Weapons Master had once told her - one or more senses can be fooled, so pay attention to the others.

  With eyes closed again, Archer listened with her other senses. Calming her mind she mentally reached out and lightly touched the mana around her. Slowly drawing on the source of power she became one with everything around her. Senses heightening, every minute sound became magnified; from the wind gently blowing through the trees, to the smallest insect walking across a fallen leaf. Only when she had isolated the usual forest noises did Archer hear it – the sound of bending blades of grass. Only an elf could be so stealthily, but this one was also employing magic.

  Archer didn’t know whether to be angry or alarmed, for the use of magic during martial testing was prohibited. This was to be a test of flesh and bone. Whoever was approaching was certainly taking a big risk, should the Weapons Master find out it would require a severe punishment, maybe even exile from the community.

  Perhaps it was one of her brothers, seeking to disrupt the trial thus causing her to fail. But she knew deep down none of her kin were that petty. Her full-blooded brothers and sisters knew she could never outmatch them; however, being part human did not make her useless.

  With a slight motion of her hand Archer sent forth a small gust of wind around the glade. The miniature dervish picked up every small leaf and twig and sent them dancing wildly about. Her invisible opponent, no matter how skilful, could not approach her without being hit by the leaves.

  The maelstrom of leaves created an ever-shifting wall of moving debris, which should have deterred her opponent from advancing further. But whoever was veiled was determined to see this attack through to the end. Passing through the storm a figure appeared as bits of flying debris stuck to clothing. Dropping all pretences of stealth the invisibility spell dissolved to reveal a tall, elven male, dressed in dark-stained leather armour. A helm, fashioned in the likeness of a hawk, made it impossible to identify the would-be assailant. It didn’t matter. Archer knew exactly who it belonged to. The helm was a symbol for the Elite Guard – a chosen few who are entrusted to defend the royal family with their lives.

  For a brief moment Archer felt a stab of panic.

  The masked assailant was going to violate an ancient tradition, just to see her fail, even if it meant forfeiting his life. This one however, expected to get away with it. As captain of the Elite he was considered best of the best, second only to the Weapons Master. And he was her eldest brother.

  The attack was swift and precise like a knife cut. Archer dodged to one side and attempted a series of counter-attacks, but against such an extraordinarily skilled opponent they were easily blocked or dodged. Realising she was being toyed with, Archer’s anger flared red hot and she used this burning emotion to power her next attack. Caught off-guard for a moment the hawk-masked elf took several steps back. Pressing her advantage Archer moved in for another attack.

&
nbsp; In a defensive posture her opponent was once again untouchable, but rather than delay the fight he moved in with deadly purposefulness. This was no longer a cat and mouse game, Archer thought, he means to finish me off quickly and brutally.

  Drawing forth on her mana, Archer employed every trick she knew and bolstered her attacks with magic. If she was going down, she would do it on her own terms. The martial testing was meant to be about skill of arms and weapons. Magic was prohibited unless permission was granted only by the Weapons Master. But since her opponent had already broken the rules she was no longer honour bound to follow them.

  Empowered, Archer was now on equal footing with her full-blooded sibling and the fighting gained in ferocity. It occurred to Archer, since she knew the identity of her attacker, why did he bother wearing a helm? It afforded him a little protection but otherwise it was mostly for ceremonial purposes. Something about this unprovoked attack didn’t feel right, and it occurred to Archer that maybe she faced a completely different opponent. One disguised as her brother. But for what purpose?

  The answer came without thinking: to make her angry.

  That realisation threatened to fuel her anger even more, but knowing that to be the motivation behind her opponent’s ploy Archer used every shred of discipline to rein her emotions and calm down. As the red fog of anger faded she was once again able to concentrate clearly and focus on the immediate problem at hand – namely how to defeat this unknown opponent who was more than her equal at combat.

  As the fighting continued, she came to realise her opponent was not using any magic, other than the cloak of invisibility he hadn’t used anything else. Either he was supremely confident in his martial skill or lacked sufficient skills in spell craft to use both effectively at the same time. In case the latter were true, this was no Elite Guard she faced. He was still a full-blooded elf, but that difference would only grant a small advantage, which made Archer believe her opponent was still toying with her.