Snippet #2681214

Ada scoffed at his words, and not once did she wince. Maybe if she was addressed like so by one of her Academy superiors, perhaps. Antius Geminus was just an ant though. So he had been a gifted mage, once. So he had been exiled. So he had borne witness to the perils of the arena. She had forged her own path as well, honing her mind as well as her body to be a proper agent of the Academy. This was her specialty, finding and recovering nuisances to the Academy.

"Antius, the sword upends the usual hindrances that befall a staff wielder. Comfortable and complacent."

She watched his coy smile, her brow flecked in displeasure at his arrogance. Then she watched him pull out a vial, there was liquid in there. It hit her, the Magi's Bane. This was one of the potions stolen from the Academy and Lir had given it to him.

"Stop him!" too late, he downed the drink before she could claw the bottle away with a force spell.

The soldiers were too slow, she should have cast a veil or immobilized him. His mana reserves had been expanded tenfold and he surged a stereotypical arcane fireball that scattered the soldiers even as they tried to lock shields.

"They prove formidable Lady Capet, why were we not informed that there were two mages present?" Lieutenant Farnham barked, unsure if he was more infuriated his soldiers for their incompetency or Lady Capet for withholding critical information that disrupted days of sound planning.

Ada barely heard him, she focused on Antius Geminus, who separated himself and his allies from her and her cohorts by generating additional barriers of arcane fire in the corridor. The blaze set several soldiers running and screaming in agony.

"Seize him!" Lieutenant Farnham roared, incensed by his fallen soldiers and the apparent lack of regard for their lives by Ada Capet.

Ada whispered a few words known only to her. Then she began an elaborate ritual with a flick of her wrist, she used her blade to weave the flame from its raging blaze into a controlled torrent. With a second stroke, she funneled the burning flames and controlled it like a puppet master. This was merely a flame.

Her hands moved with effortless motion as expected of any experienced spellsword. She unleashed the arcane energies of the flame at Antius and Lir, her only targets. Meanwhile the soldiers continued to face off against the other two gladiators, Ya'weh and Zoni who proved formidable with their hidden abilities.

-

While the crowd roared, the giant dragoneater had his back turned to the man once known as headsplitter. Crowds would forever remember him mockingly as split head instead. Caliburn strode past the guards that flanked him and into an empty hall where the forges lay. He let his sword drag behind, despite its protests.

We demand that you retrieve our scabbard! Stop scratching the blade!

The twin voices called out to him like the ghosts of dead relatives, annoying even beyond the grave.

"Hah! Likely! Ye work when I dun't want ye to work, ye dun work when I need ye to work. Tis a fine relationship we got in the works here."

He sat and rested on a nearby bench to recover some breaths, despite the lightness of his effort in his recent endeavor. Caliburn craned his head to see a young boy shifting aimlessly from station to station among the forges. He recognized the boy as Caspian, the one who often tended to his blade.

At this hour of the night when he should be home eating or resting, the boy was frantically packing things into a sack.

Caliburn drew his sword and laid it on the bench, "Oy, kid, what're ye doing?"

Caspian looked up to see the brawny giant of a champion. His mouth remained motionless and oped like an 'o'.

"Are you daft?"

Caspian snapped from the brief mental pause, "I am...packing my things. My apprenticeship is done."

"Is that so?" the barbarian leaned back against a wall, allowing for his taut chest and trunk to breathe, "So where ya headed now lad? To open up a forge in the market, I 'spose?"

Caspian answered with a bright smile filled with youth and determination, "No. I'm headed to the place of white sphinxes."

"White sphinxes?" the champion scratched his chin before he cast a glance at his sword, "What are you seeking? Riches? Glory?"

Caspian took a moment to think, staring blankly. He realized he had not given much thought to it. He had been swept up by those others who claimed to have had the same dream. Serendipitous? Fate? He had never given much thought to those things. Then he wondered what a young blacksmith could do to help.

"An answer," Caspian looked at the champion.

Caliburn assessed the honesty in his answer and he could see in the boy's eyes and hear in the temerity of his voice that nothing else existed beyond the truth.

In the ensuing silence, Caspian continued to search his forge for whatever other belongings he may have needed.

The champion stood up from his seat, laid a hand on his sword and clenched it with a dire grip. He walked over to the forge and left the blade resting by the boy's anvil.

"Consider it a gift," Caliburn left the hall.

Caspian looked at the blade, "But I can't..."

"Take it. Don't worry, I can find another," the champion grinned to himself, both for his good deed and the fact that he was finally rid of that accursed sword.