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 unto me, unbidden. Walls of a ancient castle, surrounded by a moat,
towered before me. The architecture was completely unknown, the foliage
strange. Portions of the castle walls were crumbled, and worn with age, other sections
are enveloped by the foreign plants. Giving the appearance that the stones of
the wall were held in place by the very vines that spread across them .At the
top of one wall stood a man, muscular and tall, broad of shoulder and with a deep
chest. His skin was pale, colourless, and marked about with scars. Though his
skin was as white as a cloud racing across the sky, his hair was a hue similar
to the peoples of my own realm; brown and straight. 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. Hordes of grey skinned swordsmen and spearmen slash and carve
at my fellow warriors. Urging my hexa legged steed towards the mid-region of
the warring throng, I begin my series of battle spells. My schema is, as usual,
I protect my King, aide the forces on our side, then end 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 hew men down, simply
incapacitated them and continued on. My hands freeze in the air. He moves with
grace and purpose, akin to a wild beast. A block here, a parry there, I watched
him, hypnotized by his movements. Pressing forward, not matter the obstacle, he
makes 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 waited as my conquer came to claim me. Even as blades of my own protectors
swung towards his back, he turned not to face them, but looked unto me alone. As
the light of his eyes beckon unto me, I compel my mount forward, closing the
distance betwixt us, until he is close enough to touch. My hand extends up to feel
his face. His eyes, having been impenetrable orbs of glowing colour, hold a trace
of something vulnerable. A flash of colour encircles us, and we are whisked
away from the encounter.
#
Since that day I have not seen the
fury of war. All my existence is the luxury and serenity of the palace of my
captors. My days are spent strengthening my skills in foresight and healing, an
act which had not been permitted to me previously. The lords of this land ask
nothing of me but what is needed to further my knowledge, or for my care.
The only restriction placed on my,
that I stay in the interior of the castle, the war still rages somewhere after
all. There are mages, auralplorers, who can locate someone via their aura. An
auralplorer is both the most despised, and revered, of the magik kin. Their
skin is a deep black, reminiscent of obsidian stone, signifying the strongest flow
of power physically possible. My aura is strong, being in a corridor near a
room with a window would leave hints and traces of my being. 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 wander 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 fortnight after my arrival to the castle,
I found myself alone with my guard in a small garden at the center of the
castle. In all the time we had been together, not once had we truly spoken.
"Warrior, how long has your
family served under these Lords?" I inquired, while kneeling down to examine
blossoms of vibrant red.
"My family has not served
another, as far back as the lineage goes." He answered in a clear, light
voice, from somewhere just behind me.
"I take it then, that you are
the first?" I asked, plucking one flower from the ground.
"There you are wrong, uh, Mistress."
He replied. I twist around, in order to look up into his face. There is no
merriment twitching at the corner of his lips, nor does it dance in his eyes. Though
his normally emotionless face feels different, perhaps it is softer?
"I do not understand, you do
not serve them?" My confusion kept me rooted in my spot on the ground.
"No." He answered, calmly.
"Nor are you a part of the
family?" I queried.
"No." He replied.
"Are you betrothed to a
daughter?" I continued, pressing the matter.
"N,no." He stammered. One
hand arose to move through his loosely hanging hair. "Um, Mistress, I am
an ally with the Lords. I have been as such for many a year. No, I do not intend
to marry into this family, nor am I indebted to them. They were friends of my
fathers." He paused, then trod to a nearby bench, and sat. "I am the
last of my lineage, and my family's bastion lies empty. I am here to search for
strength in the land that may help me oppose my enemy. I.." His voice wavered,
and he turned his face away.
"Royalty."I whispered,
then bowed down low, as I was taught long ago."Forgive me, my Lord. I did
not mean to pry." I spoke just loud enough to be heard. "I will speak
of this no more."
"Wait." His voice was once
again light, and drawing near. He knelt before me, his knees almost touching
mine. "It is my desire that you know." His hand lifted my chin, and
his eyes pleaded with me. "My Mother and Father had no other children. Thus
it lies upon me alone to bring justice to those who harmed them. However, over
the years I have found that the ones responsible have committed many foul acts.
So I am recruiting any that could facilitate. The Lords here have a vast army, and
great deal of resources. They to seek an end to these vile ones. That is why I
am here with them. Alone, I amount to so little, together we are strong."
"My Lor" I started, but
did not know what to say.
"Please, call me Roberto."
He gently interrupted. "Which reminds me. What is your name?"
"I have told you, and all the courtiers,
I am Battlemage." I responded painfully. His face grew impassive once
again.
"Not the title your masters
called you by." He sighed. "The name your family called you. The name
you were born with." He asked, a slight hint of sternness in his voice.
"The guards that watched us
called me childling." I closed my eyes, fighting to hold back the tears.
"The one who bore me called me Little One. I do not recall what the one
who sired me called me." A hand wrapped around the fist I had formed on me
knee. I opened my eyes, and saw the softer face from before.
"It appears that they did not
allow your parents to properly name you. If I may, I shall find a suitable one
for you." His lips remained parted, as if some other thought remained silent,
waiting to be spoken. Just at that moment, a redmage ran into the garden.
"Truce, a truce is to be
struck!" After his last words, a swirl of colours enshroud him, and he
disappears.
#
It has taken a fortnight to, but army
of my former liege has made its way to the very walls f the castle that houses
me. The fighting had been fierce for three days and nights, but now, a truce
has been struck. While the army of my guardian's friends stand aside, the other
will be permitted to retreat. Once the hostilities are ended, the two sides
will send forth emissaries and begin a proper parley. It will take a day, at the
least, to maneuver all the forces involved. That will leave the night as a time
of rest.
Whilst I lay in my bedchamber pondering
what little I knew, an attack is sprung. I hear a brief fight from the
antechamber, then my defender enters the room. He bears a long, white 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
plan was 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 Battlemage, 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.
"Battlemage is not who you are!"
he pauses visibly torn between duty and the desire to fight, "You are not
required to fight. I must see to your safety."
"The Lords of this castle will
defend it until the last stone has been turned. Yet it is not their battle! My
former masters had made plans to take this land for its resources! They would
have me back as well. They are a noble ally, as I would wish to be also."
My voice wavers on the last word, and in that instant I sense something soften
in him. "If I am not to be Battlemage, let me be your friend, and stay by
your side, fighting the villains that took your family."
"You are more than a friend to me,
you are Chothaímid." His thick
arms embrace me, pressing my body close to his. Our lips meet and the blue
flame of my magik deepens into a violet. "You are cherished." He
whispered into my hair. For but a moment longer he holds me. We break apart and
dash into the antechamber, following the sounds of fighting, and another
revelation befalls me. Our first child will have orange skin.
