When the head mistress of the writers blog over at io9, wanted to create an anthology to celebrate three years of Thursday Tales, I eventually selected it for submission. After vigorous rounds of editing, Battlemage went from the original flash piece of quasi romance-fantasy, to a decent short of dark fantasy.
Here is my contribution to We Had Stars Once, the Thursday Tales Anthology in its final form.
Battlemage
These are all the previous versions:
The final version!
4th edit
3rd edit
2nd edit
1st edit
And, this is the original little flash piece.
Battlemage.
I have always known war. Since my childhood, I rode into battle, along with my
sires, casting destruction. My blue skin burns with an equally blue flame,
expressing my natural abilities in fire and death magik, though all the
essences of magik flow through my veins.
In my 30th year, long after my lineage had fallen, and while I found no sign of a suitable suitor in the realm, my Masters went to war. While on the road to our destination, a vision appeared, unbidden. Walls of a ancient castle surrounded by a moat towered before me. The architecture was completely unknown, the foliage strange. At the top of one wall stood a man, muscular and tall. His skin was pale and marked with scars. His face was firm, like baked clay, but his eyes glowed. The blue/green orbs lingered in my mind as the scene disappeared.
At that moment, our flanks were undulated by fighters. Immediately I began my series of battle spells, protecting my King, aiding the forces on our side, then ending with my own needs. But as I was blessing my personal guard, the man from the vision, strode into view.
He cut through waves of swordsmen, unflinching at the wounds he received. He didn't hewn men down, simply incapacitated them and continued on.
He moved with grace and purpose. Pressing forward, not matter the obstacle, he made his way to my side. For my own defenses I have at my disposal a plethora of brimstone, lightening, and disemboweling spells, yet I used none of them. I merely watched as my conquer came to claim me.
Since that day I have not seen the fury of war. All I have known are the luxury and serenity of the palace of my captors. My days are spent strengthening skills in foresight and healing. The lords of this land ask nothing of me but what is needed to further my knowledge, or for my care. I have been restricted to the interior of the castle, the war still rages after all.
There are mages, auralplorers, who can locate someone via their aura. My aura is strong, being in a hallway near a room with a window would be all it takes. But I am content in my new home. The warrior from my apparition, who yielded to no force on the field, is my protector. As I wonder around the palace he trails in my shadow. Upon occasion he has even agreed to assist me in demonstrating my powers to members of the court. I've blasted him with gale winds, pour molten earth upon his brow, encased him in a wall of ice, and run him through with ether blades. I have measured him, and have not found him wanting.
A truce has been struck, the army of my former liege will be permitted to retreat, while the army of my new one stands aside. That night, as I lay in my bedchamber, an attack is sprung. I hear a brief fight from the antechamber, then my defender enters the room. He bears a cloak that I have enchanted especially for such a turn of events. In three quick strides he crosses the room and envelops us within the aura hiding cloak. The plans were for him to carry me off to another location, through tunnels beneath the castle.
Before he places a single hand on me, I heal him, then bless him for battle.
"I am a battle mage, it is what I am born for, as are you! My warrior, let me join you in combat, let me fight by your side!" I cast a small light between us, that I may once again gaze into his eyes.
"Mistress," he pauses visibly torn between duty to orders and desire to fight, "until the Lords are appeased with your loyalty, you are not required to fight."
"For that alone they have my loyalty, but because they have yours, they have mine." My voice wavers on the last word, and in that instant I sense something soften in him.
Thick arms embrace me, pressing my body close to his. Our lips meet and the blue flame of my magik deepens into a violet.
We break and dash into the antechamber, following the sounds of fighting, and another revelation befalls me. Our first child will have orange skin.
In my 30th year, long after my lineage had fallen, and while I found no sign of a suitable suitor in the realm, my Masters went to war. While on the road to our destination, a vision appeared, unbidden. Walls of a ancient castle surrounded by a moat towered before me. The architecture was completely unknown, the foliage strange. At the top of one wall stood a man, muscular and tall. His skin was pale and marked with scars. His face was firm, like baked clay, but his eyes glowed. The blue/green orbs lingered in my mind as the scene disappeared.
At that moment, our flanks were undulated by fighters. Immediately I began my series of battle spells, protecting my King, aiding the forces on our side, then ending with my own needs. But as I was blessing my personal guard, the man from the vision, strode into view.
He cut through waves of swordsmen, unflinching at the wounds he received. He didn't hewn men down, simply incapacitated them and continued on.
He moved with grace and purpose. Pressing forward, not matter the obstacle, he made his way to my side. For my own defenses I have at my disposal a plethora of brimstone, lightening, and disemboweling spells, yet I used none of them. I merely watched as my conquer came to claim me.
Since that day I have not seen the fury of war. All I have known are the luxury and serenity of the palace of my captors. My days are spent strengthening skills in foresight and healing. The lords of this land ask nothing of me but what is needed to further my knowledge, or for my care. I have been restricted to the interior of the castle, the war still rages after all.
There are mages, auralplorers, who can locate someone via their aura. My aura is strong, being in a hallway near a room with a window would be all it takes. But I am content in my new home. The warrior from my apparition, who yielded to no force on the field, is my protector. As I wonder around the palace he trails in my shadow. Upon occasion he has even agreed to assist me in demonstrating my powers to members of the court. I've blasted him with gale winds, pour molten earth upon his brow, encased him in a wall of ice, and run him through with ether blades. I have measured him, and have not found him wanting.
A truce has been struck, the army of my former liege will be permitted to retreat, while the army of my new one stands aside. That night, as I lay in my bedchamber, an attack is sprung. I hear a brief fight from the antechamber, then my defender enters the room. He bears a cloak that I have enchanted especially for such a turn of events. In three quick strides he crosses the room and envelops us within the aura hiding cloak. The plans were for him to carry me off to another location, through tunnels beneath the castle.
Before he places a single hand on me, I heal him, then bless him for battle.
"I am a battle mage, it is what I am born for, as are you! My warrior, let me join you in combat, let me fight by your side!" I cast a small light between us, that I may once again gaze into his eyes.
"Mistress," he pauses visibly torn between duty to orders and desire to fight, "until the Lords are appeased with your loyalty, you are not required to fight."
"For that alone they have my loyalty, but because they have yours, they have mine." My voice wavers on the last word, and in that instant I sense something soften in him.
Thick arms embrace me, pressing my body close to his. Our lips meet and the blue flame of my magik deepens into a violet.
We break and dash into the antechamber, following the sounds of fighting, and another revelation befalls me. Our first child will have orange skin.
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