Firebrand 4: The Spellslinger, page 1
THE SPELLSLINGER
©2024 D.E. OLESEN
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ALSO IN SERIES
The Novice
The Fire-Touched
The Acolyte
The Spellslinger
The Warrior
CONTENTS
Summary
1. An Enchanting Day
2. Handing It Over
3. Golden Memories
4. Between Golden and Silvery Light
5. Quandaries at the Quay
6. The Consumption of Desires
7. Enchanted Hours
8. The Right Hound
9. Becoming Armed
10. Hooked
11. On the Trail
12. Danse Macabre
13. Self-preservation
14. Sleepy Work
15. Old Confessions
16. A Father's Fear
17. Bloody Reactions
18. Circumstantial Studies
19. A Focus for the Fire
20. Making Strides
21. Counters
22. Near-sighted
23. A Precious Stone
24. Overcoming a Pest
25. The Promise of Spectacle
26. A Golden Solstice
27. A Stone to Hinder
28. A Performance to Remember
29. What's in a Name
30. Watching Steps
31. Intangible Bonds
32. In the Market for Trouble
33. Rising to the Top
34. Trading in Fear
35. Fading Gems
36. Eyes Across the Hall
37. From Red to Blue
38. The Strategy of the Age
39. A Revelation
40. The Next Step
41. A Spell in a Jar
42. In the Meadow
43. Nocturnal Visitations
44. Help from the Hedge
45. Harvestmen
46. Warmth and Light
47. Birds of a Feather
48. Below Luna's Light
49. Light Eater
50. The Fire Eater
51. Watchful Eyes
52. It's Got Pockets
53. Red Whispers
54. The Word of a Wizard
55. Meeting of the Hands
56. Spare a Thought
57. Cold Pockets
58. Help from Above
59. An Ache
60. Shifting Alliances
61. Family Additions
62. Masks
63. Hot Air
64. Permanence
65. A Resurgent Need
66. Hunter and Hunted
67. Dead Ends
68. Hornets
69. One Man's Gift
70. Red-blooded
71. Services Required
72. Under the Hood
73. Light Friendship
74. Enchanting from the Ground up
75. Six Gems and a Pearl
76. Return Below
77. Fading Red Light
78. Cat and Mice
79. Advanced Magic
80. Seeking Refuge
81. A Day Off
82. Elemental Philosophy
83. Gaining Control
84. Fury from the Sky
85. Sowing the Wind
86. As the Arrow Flies
87. Going to Market
88. Confessions of a Nocturnal Knife
89. Shooting Straight
90. Taking the Wind out of their Sails
91. Heartfelt Wager
92. Barbarian Instinct
93. Trapping the Trapper
94. Belt and Breeches
95. Counting the Catch
96. A New Pact
97. The Last Argument of Viscounts
98. An Elemental Education
99. Starting the Grind
100. The Second Starlit Eve
101. Plagued Ship
102. Meal Conversations with Friends
103. A City Divided
104. An Intellectual Debate
105. Rolling up Sleeves
106. Copper Lock
107. The Eagle Flies Alone
108. The Seed of Leadership
109. Noble Privilege
110. Wizard's Work
111. A Visit from Affection
112. A Stone in Hand
113. Amaranth
114. A Potion in Hand
115. One in the Belt
116. Examinations
117. Sullied
118. Looking for Questions
119. Almond Bread
120. A Rune in Hand
121. Rising Smoke
122. Spell-broken
123. The Spellbreaker's Tale
124. An Eagle in Hand
125. On the Threshold
126. A Royal Burial
127. Friend and Foe
128. Broken Resistance
129. A Healthy Suggestion
130. Sleep Unending
131. X
132. The Final Letter
133. Loyalty
Thank you for reading The Spellslinger
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SUMMARY
After being revealed as fire-touched, Martel's dream of becoming a weathermage is destroyed. Instead, he begins studying as a fire acolyte under the harsh tutelage of Moira, Mistress of Fire. He also resumes training combat magic together with his friends, the mageknights Maximilian and Eleanor. His innate talent and many experiences brawling in the city give him the advantage, as he proves himself to be a gifted battlemage.
This allows Martel to earn coin among the seedier elements of the city, performing tasks for the Nine Lords ruling the underworld, or working with the mercenary company the Night Knives. He meets the charming Ruby, righthand woman to Lady Pearl, though they have a falling out as Martel feels deceived by her, being kept in the dark about her plans.
Pulling away from such tasks, Martel focuses on his schoolwork; besides his combat abilities, he practises alchemy, learns the Archean language with help from Eleanor, and studies the Tyrian runes together with her.
He befriends Julia, another orphan of Morcaster, who is on the run from the inquisitors, much like he earlier befriended Weasel and his gang of urchins living in the copper lanes. One of them is the young girl Sparrow, who was abducted by the maleficar haunting the city. Discovering she possesses magic, Martel begins to teach her in secret, respecting her choice to stay with the other children rather than join the Lyceum.
Martel continues his hunt for the maleficar, only to discover the dark mage controls a dreadful creature of ethereal nature that is near impervious to magic or weapons. Unable to defeat such a foe, Martel flees and must accept that the evil sorcerer is too powerful for him to deal with.
His relations with the Nine Lords also become further complicated; his friend, Regnar the hedge mage and his troupe of travelling actors, unwittingly become enemies of Lady Pearl. Martel intervenes on their behalf, making himself an enemy to her and the Night Knives.
On the other hand, the Friar, another Ninth Lord, enlists Martel's aid to find a stolen relic, the hand of Saint Laurentius. The Nine Lords use it to swear their oaths to uphold the Pact, which keeps them from going to war with each other, thereby suppressing violence in the city. Martel hunts the relic and discovers he has become a target as well. Another mercenary group, the Silver Serpents, make an attempt at his life, which he barely survives.
With dangers mounting, Martel finally locates the relic, allowing him to gain the reward offered by the Friar for its return: protection of the Pact against anybody in Morcaster's underworld who might threaten him. This means that should anybody hurt him, they will incur the wrath of all the Nine Lords in retaliation.
With the threat towards him eliminated, Martel can turn his thoughts towards his final months at the Lyceum, learning his remaining skills and spells as a battlemage before he is sent to war.
ONE
AN ENCHANTING DAY
Martel slept soundly after the events at House Thierry, chasing the islander thief and the relic through the streets, and he woke feeling rested. It felt good to be done with the hunt for the artefact and that his efforts were rewarded with satisfaction. Of course, gaining the protection of the Pact was no meagre prize either.
There was the nagging thought that somebody had hired the Silver Serpents to kill him, and Martel did not know who; he could have wrung the truth out of the islander who stole the hand, but Martel had traded the wretch to Ruby for the relic. While she would thus learn who employed the islander, Martel could not trust her to tell him the truth; she was more liable to manipulate him. He would have to put his faith in the Pact to protect him and otherwise withdraw from the affairs of the Nine Lords, making it clear he was not a player in their games. His own threats towards Flora and the Night Knives would also help to keep him safe, given that they would not dare violate the Pact or cross the Lyceum.
The hand lay wrapped in cloth in one of his drawers; Martel felt almost paranoid leaving it, and he checked his door several times to make sure it was locked. Even outside his room, he could feel its strange, magical presence, if only faintly; anyone else on his floor was bound to do the same. Hopefully nobody paid any heed. And as he ate breakfast, his thoughts soon turned to the new subject he would begin studying today, causing excitement to grow. This Manday, he had his first lesson in enchantment with Master Jerome.
Together with the mageknights, Martel stood in the workshops. He had done so many times before, usually with other students, waiting for their work assignment. Today would be different. Master Jerome soon appeared, accompanied by a well-nourished youth wearing the same workmen’s clothes as the artificer did. "You all know my apprentice, Rufus."
Martel did not. Sure, he had seen the fellow around, but he assumed he was either a servant or just another student. Though it made sense that Master Jerome would have an apprentice, just like Mistress Rana did.
"When it comes to enchantment, its power and endurance is pretty much determined by the strength of your spell. That means you won't get many results from doing anything other than your specialty. I'm a metalmage, so I forge. A watermage working with another wizard can enchant water to create potions. Rufus is skilled with magic of the body, like most of you, and he uses it to enchant materials harvested from living things. Leather, cloth, and the like. Did a good job on those robes of yours." The artificer nodded at Martel, wearing his fireproof red garments. "He'll take all of you mageknights to his domain and instruct you."
Not Martel. Did this mean he would get personal instruction from Master Jerome? Probably the artificer would have other work requiring his attention for the bell, but Martel still looked forward to the opportunity to learn directly from him in solitude. Even if it was something as mundane as how to enchant a heating stone for use in a hot bath. Come to think of it, that actually seemed really useful.
"As for you, boy, come with me." Master Jerome led him down a familiar path to the laboratory, where Martel had often laboured to make ink. "I have prepared the materials for your lesson in here. It seemed appropriate, and you won't be disturbed."
Martel looked around. He recognised most of the equipment from his usual work, but in addition, he saw different little pots and containers. A strange smell, almost like rotten eggs, lay in the air.
"Now, there's a few useful things that you can enchant with fire. You enjoy the warm baths in the basement of your tower, I take it." Master Jerome smiled.
Martel's exact thought. He nodded.
The artificer's expression faltered. "Unfortunately, we don't teach much enchanting to fire acolytes anymore. Most of them are excused to focus on their spellcraft instead. You're the first fire acolyte I've had since becoming artificer."
"So, you will be teaching me enchanting?" Martel asked, confused.
"Master Fenrick said he believed you had the wits to pick it up fast enough to make it worthwhile. So there's one thing you'll focus on learning."
"What is it?"
His teacher took a small pot of clay and removed the lid. From a larger container, he picked up a ladle, scooped some of the contents up, and let it fall into the pot. "This is a mixture of pitch and oil, along with a few other things. Sulphur, if your nose hasn't already told you. It is very flammable." He glanced at Martel's robes. "Good thing you're dressed for the occasion."
"What am I to do with it?"
"Now, enchantment is more complicated than simply casting a spell like you're used to. You still want the effect of the spell, but not in the immediate, temporary way. Rather, you want to infuse the material with the magic of your spellwork, weaving it together to make it permanent. In this case, you want to fill this oily substance with fire magic, but without actually setting it on fire."
"Alright…"
Martel's scepticism must have been obvious in either his voice or on his face, as Master Jerome looked almost apologetic. "I know, it's no easy task. But if you get it right and take care when you close the lid on the pot, you should have what's essentially a fire bolt in a jar. It'll stay dormant until you throw it, breaking the pot and releasing flaming oil all over your target."
The acolyte finally caught on. "This is a weapon."
The artificer nodded. "Yes. Due to how volatile the mixture is, it's not recommended for anyone other than battlemages. At least you can handle the fire if it breaks early. So you shouldn't run around making these and giving them away. Not that I'd expect that from you, but just that you've been warned."
"Don't worry. I'm not eager to walk around and distribute explosive magic to people."
Master Jerome gave half a smile. "Good. Now, fire is not my strong suit, and I'd never be able to get the hang of this, but I am good at enchantment in general. And perhaps you can track down Master Alastair and ask him for help if need be. He's usually the mage who enchants fire for me when needed."
Since they had class once a fiveday, it would not be hard to find the Master of Elements. Martel decided to wait a bit, though; he wanted to finish learning the counterspell first before getting distracted during his lessons with Master Alastair.
"Alright, when it comes to enchantment, it's much like casting a spell, as I said, except your speed is reverse. Normally, the faster you cast magic, the better. Now, you want as slow as possible. Letting your magic leak into the material without doing it so fast that the spell is actually released. Understood?"
In theory. Whether Martel could do it was another matter. But he had learnt Sindhian alchemy and Tyrian runes; he could do this as well. Taking a deep breath, Martel took the small pot with the fiery substance within and began carefully releasing his magic.
As decided earlier, Martel focused purely on his counterspell during his lesson with Master Alastair. Even if he assumed Flora had been scared off, it seemed wisest to master the spell sooner rather than later. He could always seek advice on how to make the fire pots afterwards; he also wanted to give enchanting a few tries on his own before he went looking for counsel.
The rest of his afternoon passed in the other laboratory at the Lyceum, learning potions with Mistress Rana. He began a new recipe, thankfully simpler than the elixir of fortitude; furthermore, she no longer complained about him bringing his clock with him.
Although a full day of new magic, Martel was not done. He only had tonight before handing back the relic. When evening came, he knocked on the door to Master Fenrick's chambers.
"Enter."
Martel stepped inside, bundle in hand.
"Miss my classes already?" The bespectacled teacher smiled before he suddenly frowned. "What's that you got in your hands?"
Holding the relic, even swathed in fabric, Martel felt its presence strongly. It only increased as he unfolded the cloth. "I did a favour for a clergyman. He allowed me to borrow this. I thought you might want to take a closer look."
A severed hand, nonetheless showing no signs of decay, appeared. Master Fenrick widened his eyes, pushing his glasses further up his nose. "Boy, is that the hand of Saint Laurentius?"
"Aye, master." Martel grinned, enjoying his teacher's reaction.
"I'm not sure I want to know how this came about," he mumbled. "Well, I won't look for scratches on a gift plough. Place it there." He removed a pile of parchments and books from his desk. "Remarkable. No signs of age despite being centuries old."
