Runic Apprentice, page 2
part #1 of The Rune Mystic Series
The grip was perfect for his hands after wrapping the pommel, and it felt perfectly balanced. It was just a sword, but he couldn’t help the pride he felt at the accomplishment, and it was his to keep.
It wasn’t until then that he realized how hard it would be to part with his work. The next sword he poured his heart and talent into would be sold. He heated up the striker rod with the design on it, and held it with the tongs over the sword, and after a few seconds he hit it hard with the hammer, once, twice, then a third time.
When he pulled the rod away, the sword was slightly indented in that area in the shape of his mark. It was subtle, easily missed with casual inspection, but also easy enough to make out if someone were looking for it.
Cain grabbed it before Olin could, and he lifted it up. The older man swung it a few times, then smiled.
“A master worthy work, you just need to work on your speed, without sacrificing quality.”
He nodded, he knew it’d take him two days to duplicate what he’d done in three, and probably while working on a few other projects at the same time. Still, he also knew a lot of that was strength. He was toned, in shape, even ripped, but he wasn’t as strong as his master was yet. It took him more strikes of the hammer to do the same job, and that gap would slowly close over time.
Cain twisted it in his hand, and he held it out to Olin.
He took it with almost a reverence, which he knew was probably ridiculous, but he felt almost overwhelmed in that moment at both his accomplishment and at Cain’s obvious approval. It was also the moment when his life would change, forever.
It was his first time touching the weapon since putting his mark on the sword, and he felt something stir inside of him as he admired the blade, and more specifically, the strange beauty and balance of his chosen creator’s mark indelibly stamped into the blade. It was warmth rising in his chest, a bright warmth, at first. It overflowed in his chest, and he felt it move down into his four extremities and then out of his right hand into the sword itself.
He felt awe, but also terror, as he had no idea what it was. It also started to hurt, to burn, as the warm flow gradually turned into a torrent of heat that felt like it seared his body from head to toe, and the heat was ripped out of his body as the sword started to glow faintly, and his mark on the sword glowed brightly. It was physically painful, and he felt like his very life was being torn from his body.
The sensation of seemingly having his life ripped out became too much, and he screamed in pain. Then mercifully, the pain ended, and he passed out cold.
He woke up feeling rejuvenated, and he was in a small strange room he’d never been in before. The room had two lit oil lanterns on the night tables, and in the corner was a backpack that looked half full with his sword leaning against it. He shuddered at the remembered pain, and he wondered if he’d ever have the guts to touch his sword again.
“Hello?” he said in a raspy voice that didn’t carry, but then tried again and it came out stronger.
The door opened, and two people walked in that he’d never seen before, yet he recognized who they must be by their clothes and his master’s vague description earlier. The first was obviously the life mage, and he looked handsome to the point of being pretty, his face and complexion too perfect, the muscles in his arms too defined to be natural. He was six feet tall, and he wore the white robes of a life mage. He had medium brown hair, and his brown eyes held both concern and suspicion.
The second person was obviously the new mage, an apprentice life mage. She wore commoner clothes as he did. She was at most five foot one, petite, and he guessed she must’ve been at least sixteen even if she looked younger. She had reddish brown hair, and light liquid brown eyes that held both concern and a tentative kindness in them.
“What happened? Why am I here, where is my family?”
He blushed, at the quick-fire questions, but he was worried. Why weren’t they there, and why was he in this strange place with two life mages?
The mage replied, “I’m Life mage Neal, this is apprentice Caley. What happened is you almost killed yourself, if we hadn’t been in town and brought to you quickly, you would have died. What you did was extremely foolish.”
I shook my head, “And inadvertent. I still don’t know what happened, or why, but I thank you for my life, Mage Neal.”
Caley said, “You’re a rune mage, well, an apprentice.”
He frowned, “I’m a blacksmith.”
Caley said sadly, “Not anymore you aren’t, no more than I’m a farmer.”
His mind froze as it sunk in. It was the law, he had magic, he had to swear fealty to the guild he belonged to, and to the king. It was kingdom law, independent mages weren’t allowed, and magic wasn’t allowed to go to waste. It was also incredibly dangerous to dabble in magic, without proper education.
“My master?” his tongue froze and wouldn’t utter his real question, where was Celane? She normally doted on him if he was injured, that she wasn’t here…
Neal replied arrogantly, “No longer your master. Your old life is over, you’re a mage. Or you will be one, if you don’t do anything stupid again and get yourself killed before I can get you to the city.”
His mind went in circles. Celane was more afraid of mages than most, did she fear him now? Or had she just been told to stay away? Did it matter? Her opinion wouldn’t matter at all, if his master had turned against him. His mind broke down in confusion, and his stomach turned, as he realized all his effort of the last six years and his life plans had just been wasted.
“Just… what did I do?”
Neal peered at him suspiciously, as if he should know exactly what he did, “Where did you learn those runes?”
“Runes?”
Caley said, “The ones on your sword.”
He frowned, “That’s the personal mark I designed, to stamp on my work.”
Neal said in disbelief, “Designed? Are you sure you didn’t design them out of a book, or some other lore?”
He shook his head, “I don’t think so. What happened?” he asked a little more forcefully.
Neal sighed, “Magic takes control and discipline. One, you didn’t control or channel your power correctly, which harmed your body. Secondly, magic is like a muscle. It gets stronger as you work it, and it will grow weaker if you neglect to practice. Your magic is never weaker than the first time you use it, and you tried to power five runes at the same time. It would be like a new born colt trying to run all day, it would die of exhaustion. One day, you’ll be able to power your sword’s full potential, but not for a long time.”
“Full potential?”
Neal rolled his eyes, “Are you going to persist in pretending this ignorance? Yes, you should be strong enough to power one or maybe two of the runes, for a short time. Do you even know what they do?”
He blushed, “I’m not sure.”
He had an instinctive idea, joining of purpose, durability and sharpness for the sword, and speed and strength for the wielder, at least that was the impression the symbols had given him that made up his mark. But he also got the impression from Neal that people didn’t just make up runes, not even rune mages. They had to be learned. Which was probably why he was so suspicious, what was the chances on him stumbling onto five working runes, of his own design?
At Neal’s glare, he clarified, “The second one, I’m not sure what the runes do. I didn’t even know I was a mage, I neither knew what was happening, nor could I have controlled it because of that. Will you explain?”
Neal shook his head, “There will be classes, Mistress Cassandra will teach you, as head of the runic guild. I’d suggest you don’t even try again until you’ve received proper instruction on how to channel your magic without harm.”
He blushed, “I didn’t try the first time, what if it just happens again?”
Neal snorted, “Magic doesn’t just happen, you have to evoke it within you. What were you thinking and feeling when it happened?”
He thought about that for a second.
“I was admiring the symbols that make up my mark, I guess they’re runes. I’d put a lot of work into it, there was satisfaction, pride, and a feeling of accomplishment.”
Neal sighed long-sufferingly, “Emotions are a common first trigger, though a bad way to wield magic, as you’ve just discovered the hard way. As long as you don’t stare at the runes while admiring the sword and patting yourself on the back, it should be safe enough to wield if we get into trouble on the way to the capital. That still doesn’t explain how you built five workable runes. If they’d had the slightest flaw in them, you’d have burned up, just like the wrong word or gesture for the other mage disciplines can have horrific consequences.”
He said plaintively, “I can’t explain that, all I can say is that I swear I didn’t know what they truly were or what I was, am,” then asked, “Has anyone tried to come see me?”
The instant look of pity and compassion on Caley’s face and in her eyes told him all he needed to know. He suspected she may have been rejected by her family as well, as soon as she did whatever she did that identified her as a mage.
He changed the subject, the idea of his lovely Celane fearing him turned his stomach, and it caused physical pain in his chest. He’d lost more than a trade that day, he’d lost the woman he’d been counting on spending his life with.
“Is that why rune mages are so rare?”
“Explain,” Neal said.
He shrugged, “Other mages can cast wild magics if their emotions get the best of them, that’s usually how they’re identified, right? A rune mage can’t do anything with magic, unless they’re touching a rune. How many people walk around with runes in their hands, much less when they’re feeling emotional?”
Neal nodded, “It’s not proven of course, but that’s one theory that’s been talked about. That there are more rune mages, as many as the other disciplines, but that they’re just much harder to identify because their magic is quiescent without a rune to power, no matter how upset they get.”
“So, what now?”
Neal said, “Rest for today, you can get out of bed tomorrow, and pick up supplies for your trip. We leave the day after, once your old master finishes the sword and dagger for Caley. I trust you know how to ride?”
He blushed again, he needed to stop doing that.
“I can ride, but I don’t have any coin, I was only recently raised to journeyman status.”
It wouldn’t cost much, he already had clothes, a backpack, and a weapon. He imagined his old family had also packed his soap and other personal hygiene stuff. He’d just need enough food, and perhaps a fire-starter, a tent, and some bedding. All that would be less than a silver, but the horse, saddle, and tack would cost at least a gold piece, he’d never owned that much coin in his life.
Neal waved that away, “I have it covered. Your guild will recompense the life guild when we arrive at the main guildhall in Highspire. The guild covers any reasonable expenses for their mages, as well as a monthly disbursement. We’re required to work for the king, but we’re hardly slaves.”
His mind and emotions didn’t like that, he wanted to reject it all and go back home, but deep in his heart he already knew it wasn’t an option, even if he hadn’t accepted it yet. Even if his old master, Evelyn, and Celane would still welcome him, and not fear him, which was doubtful, the law of the land left him no choice in any of it.
In short, he was screwed by circumstance. Perhaps it was even a good thing, and it would lead to an amazing life. Magic was fascinating, just as intriguing as it was frightening, but it hadn’t been in his plans. He’d give it up in a second, for a lifetime with the woman he’d grown to love.
Still, his heart would be lighter, if it was true anyway, perhaps he would try to say goodbye and thank them on the morrow. If they spurned him it would hurt, but it was better to know than not.
Perhaps his training wouldn’t entirely go to waste though, surely blacksmithing would come in handy when it came time to inscribe runes in metal. He knew rumors, but very little else on how it worked, and after that day’s painful experience he was in no hurry to experiment. Still, logically speaking metal had to be the best medium, because a damaged rune could kill a rune mage.
Though, he was very curious about one thing. How had he done it, made five perfect runes, and why was he so sure what they meant? He couldn’t be positive, in his head, but in his heart, he was sure what those runes did. He’d painstakingly built those symbols into his maker’s mark, those runes he mentally corrected himself, and they’d spoken to him of their purpose in his heart.
He kept that little tidbit to himself, apparently that was impossible. But then, if it was impossible, how were the runes initially discovered in the first place?
He felt surprisingly exhausted after that relatively short conversation, and Neal and Caley left him be in the room, so he could get some more rest.
Chapter Three
He’d put it off as long as possible. He wasn’t sure if he could stomach being brushed off by the people that he’d grown to consider his family with fear, but it was time to find out. He’d rested all day yesterday, and today he’d done what little shopping he’d needed to get done for a trip, Neal as promised had covered all of it without complaint.
As he’d suspected, almost everything he needed for himself had been in the pack, he’d just needed to pick up things for the trail. The distance to the capital was at least a week on the road by horseback, and there was only one other village between Bayside and the capital city of Highspire.
He felt more than a bit nervous and awkward as he approached the blacksmith’s forge, a place he’d been so comfortable in just two days ago, a place that had held the keys to his future, but no longer. He took a deep breath, and he walked into the public front room of the store which had various wares on display, a longing to turn back from this new unwanted future overwhelmed him, but he pushed it down.
Cain called out, “Just a minute!”
He didn’t have a choice, and he did his best to push down the anger that rose in response to that. It wasn’t anyone’s fault, not even really his own, just an accident of birth. Perhaps the king’s, for forcing mages to work for him, but blaming the king would be madness and just end with death. Regardless, he’d decided to approach his former master first, if Cain rejected him forcefully, he might not even get to say goodbye to Celane and Evelyn.
The normally soothing sound of the forge seemed harsher today, the bang of the hammer on metal ominous, but he knew that was just his fear talking.
Cain walked out, and he faltered as he saw who was in his store. His face shuttered, as he looked over Olin.
Olin said, “Master, I’ve come to take my leave, and to apologize. I had no idea what I was, what rested within me. I will miss this place, and especially the people in it.”
It took a lot of courage to get that out, especially in the face of Cain’s distantly wary look. That look hurt more than he expected it to, Cain had been the only father he’d ever known, even if in truth he was just master to his apprentice.
Cain replied mechanically, “I am glad you’re well, and I wish you success in your new life. Though I am disappointed this happened, I do not hold you to blame.”
He nodded, “Thank you. May I take my leave of Celane and Evelyn?”
A look of regret entered Cain’s eyes, and maybe a little fear. He hated to see that second one almost as much as the first, his old master was afraid to tell him no, but it was more than obvious he was about to anyway.
Cain replied cautiously, “You know how Celane fears mages, she is… distraught. She does not wish to see you, perhaps sometime in the future if you’re ever in the area.”
“How will time help?” he asked in disbelief. He’d still be a mage after all.
Cain said, “I’m not blind boy, and I knew of your plans together. There is no one to blame in this, but she’s distraught and not thinking clearly. In time she might see the truth, but right now she blames and fears you, feels betrayed by you.”
He sighed. That was probably right, but what was the point of ever coming back? Even if she could come to terms with the misplaced blame, he would always be what she feared most in this life.
He nodded, “Be well, and thank you for everything.”
Cain just nodded.
He turned, and he fled the store at a walk. As he’d feared, his old life was ashes, the bridge was burned. Not that it mattered, the only way for him now was forward into this new life he didn’t really want. Sure, the idea of learning magic was somewhat appealing, but it paled in comparison to his broken dreams.
The next morning, he and Caley saddled the horses and secured the saddlebags while Neal went to the blacksmith shop to pick up Caley’s sword and dagger. He had no wish to see Cain one more time, it would just worsen his mood, and put a pall on the journey.
He felt betrayed by the bright warm sunlight and the morning calls of the birds, in his heart it was raining. He also knew he had to fight that, his life wasn’t ending, and if he wanted to fit into his new world, he could hardly afford to alienate his new peers. He wasn’t a dour man by nature, but it wasn’t easy with his whole world turned upside down.
He had on leather breaches, and a brown tunic. His sword was strapped to the outside of the saddle bags on his palfrey, but he had a simple hunting knife on his belt. The sword was easily accessible even on horseback from where it was.
Caley asked, “Want to talk about it?”
He shook his head, “No.”
Caley’s face fell at his terse response, and he felt a stab of guilt. She was a petite pixy of a young woman at sixteen, just two years younger than he was.
He added, “Not right now anyway, it’s too fresh. I had my whole life planned out, I don’t even know where to start. I’d like the company and conversation though, what’s your story?”
