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Rise of the Archon: Book 2, Chapter 63
🕑 Added 2025-02-23 08:16:48 +0000 UTCWe did not stop running until dawn. Wallace had wanted to rest earlier, as did I, but we both understood it was too great a risk. The more distance we put between us and Aranth, the better.
As the sun crept over the horizon, we found a hollow in the grassy plains where we could sit and avoid notice from the road. It was not much as far as cover went, barely more than a minor inconvenience, but neither of us had the energy to demand something better.
Wallace rounded on me like a wild beast the moment he had a chance to breathe.
"What the hell were you thinking leading them to me?" Wallace demanded, jabbing at me with one finger. It did not escape my notice that his other hand was on the hilt of his sword.
I did not respond at first; Instead, I took a good look at the man for the first time since our reunion. He looked, for want of a more creative term, awful.
Wallace's formerly impeccable hair was matted and greasy, hanging in his eyes. His face looked hollowed out, his build slimmer, and his shoulders hunched. His clothes carried multiple stains, and at least three holes revealed pale skin. That he had retained his sword was a stroke of luck, but he appeared closer to a beggar than a disgraced noble. Then again, he was both.
"I was thinking," I finally said, "That I wanted to warn you."
"Oh please, you had to know they'd be keeping an eye on the gates," Wallace shot back, "What kind of idiot just wanders into a trap knowing it exists?"
The kind of idiot that wants to spring the trap.
I did not give voice to the thought. Instead, I folded my arms and replied, "It was a mistake. I had hoped they had moved on, but I miscalculated."
"A mistake," Wallace scoffed as he threw both hands up, "That's it?"
"Yes, a mistake," I said, my patience frayed to the breaking point, "Wallace, I understand I put you in danger. But I had someone else I wanted to warn—a person just as innocent as you and just as underserving of her fate. I decided you were the greater priority. Would you prefer I had gone to help her instead?"
"I'd prefer you never put me in danger at all," Wallace replied.
"I understand, but since I cannot travel back in time, what would you have me do?"
Wallace stared for a long time, one hand still ready to draw his weapon. I doubted he would, but I kept a grip on my mana. Finally, he shook his head and turned, walking over to flop onto the grass.
"You take the first watch. I'm going to try and get a few hours of sleep," Wallace said, placing one arm over his eyes.
It was not a question, but I still replied, "Of course."
Wallace was snoring in less than a minute, and I allowed myself to relax at the noise. I had learned to hide my expressions, but it was an imperfect mask of passivity. Even I would show some signs when I was lying.
The truth was I was almost positive the assassins would be watching the gates to Aranth. It was the simple, easy move to "catch" their target. There was a possibility they would assume I was dead given enough time, but it was unlikely.
So, I decided to spring their trap to accomplish two tasks. First, I could draw them out to try and learn more about the assassins. And I had. Not much, but I could conclude they were a well-connected, well-funded, and well-trained organization. Cold iron blades cost a pretty penny, and they had moved with the mark of many hours of structured practice with their weapons.
The second was one I did not like to admit, even to myself. Wallace was simply too valuable to leave behind.
The man did not see it, but he was a genius. His core limited him, but his natural touch for mana and innate comprehension surpassed mine even with all of my training and study. His control was exceptional, his perception next to flawless, and I suspected he could master in days what had taken me weeks.
What might I learn from watching and training with a genius? I had already started incorporating his looping technique into my magic, and I had no doubt he could make other intuitive leaps given the time and the right push.
And what better push was there than the threat of death?
I had always planned to invite Wallace, but springing the trap served to force his hand. He could not afford to remain behind anymore and had no real choice but to follow me.
My stomach clenched, and I felt raw guilt swell in my chest. I hated the necessity of it, even though I understood it was necessary. But these were the same little allowances that led to a rotting corruption of the spirit. How often had a monster started as a person driven into a corner, whispering the sweet lie that they would only bend their principles this one time?
Wallace rose after a few hours, switching off so that I could steal some rest myself. When I woke up, we ate a small lunch and discussed our next move.
"What's the plan, then?" Wallace asked, gnawing a piece of dried meat between his molars. It was one of my last bits of food, and I tried not to dwell on that looming problem.
"We keep running," I replied, "But not blindly. Assassins are ultimately hired blades, which means they are driven by gold, not duty. They are selfish. Cowardly. We need to make this job more dangerous than it is worth, and I see two ways to do that. The first is becoming powerful enough that fighting us is suicidal."
"You killed four of them at once. Isn't that enough?"
"No," I shook my head, "I caught them off-guard, got lucky, pressed every advantage, and I still would have lost if they had a fifth person with them. And that is assuming these are the best they have. We have no reason to assume that."
"Hmm, alright, so more training. Easy enough. What's the second way?"
I tapped my fingers on my leg, replying, "We need an ally. Someone powerful and influential enough that no assassin would risk their ire by trying to kill us."
Wallace held up both hands and said, "Don't look at me. My family didn't want me around when I was just a crappy mage. If they catch wind of this, they might turn me over themselves. What about your lord? He's a Duke. I doubt many people would want him as an enemy."
"No, not many would, but Duke Estton would never take me into his household. Not anymore," I said, "But as luck would have it, I have another idea in mind. Tell me, have you heard of the Everforge?"
***
The first full day on the road, we diverted past a small town. There, we stole a few hanging sets of clothes before heading further east. A nearby river allowed us to bathe and give ourselves another haircut. Wallace sliced off most of his long hair before helping fix my own crude efforts.
We continued east, never stopping longer than necessary to eat and sleep. Our food ran out, but the two of us had enough magical skill and knowledge of wilderness survival to hunt, butcher, and prepare meals on the road. They were bland, unpleasant meals of leather-tough meat and occasional, non-poisonous berries, but the threat of starvation made even those a banquet.
I took to practicing combining mana gathering and physical strenthening again. The technique remained next to impossible and fundamentally unpleasant, but it was also the only thing that kept me moving most days. That magically enhanced strength helped stave off the first questing fingers of exhaustion, though I knew it was only a matter of time before it failed.
Wallace copied me soon enough and, infuriatingly, did so with far greater ease. It took him just a few days to get the hang of gathering mana while moving, and after a week, he was almost as good at it as me. I could have complained and succumbed to envy, but instead, I set him on another task, one framed as a question.
"Do you know what this is?" I asked one afternoon as we walked through the grassy plains. The cold iron dagger flashed in my hand, its blade a flat silver-gray color that caught the midday sun.
"A knife?" Wallace asked, sounding puzzled.
"I meant the material," I said. When Wallace shook his head, I continued, "It is known as cold iron. A material that can penetrate through magic without issue. Those assassins used blades like this, and they are, without much competition, the most dangerous weapons to use against a mage."
Wallace stared at it, nodding a few times as he replied, "Yeah...now that you mention it, I've heard of it before."
"Good," I nodded, then sheathed the blade and tossed it across the short gap between us. Wallace caught it mid-air, furrowing his eyebrows as he stared at me.
"That is yours now," I continued.
"Why?"
I considered my words before saying, "Cold iron is seemingly immune to mana. No mage has ever managed to move, reshape, or even affect cold iron in any manner. It is a perfect insulator, utterly immune to our magic."
"And...?" Wallace pressed.
"And I think you can be the first," I replied, "You have a knack for controlling metal beyond just your affinity for metal mana. Your looping technique was an innovation you made with little formal training, and most importantly, I do not believe there is any material wholly immune to magic. There is a way to do it. We just need to discover it."
Wallace stared at me for a long time before finally snorting and responding, "Seems implausible that I'll be the first."
It was, but I was almost as interested in seeing what he might think up and uncover along the way. I suspected it just might be impossible to affect cold iron using mana, but admitting as much defeated the whole purpose of this exercise.
So, I smiled and said, "All magical innovations seemed impossible, you know."
Wallace grunted but did not respond, and I realized that he had unsheathed the blade, examining it with a strange, focused expression on his face. Whether through the experiences of the past few months or simple boredom, some element of determination had crept into the young man.
The rest of our trip was uneventful. There were no assassination attempts or bandit raids. No monsters tried to eat us, no rival mages challenged us to a duel, and we rarely saw other living humans. These were almost always traders, farmers, and hunters, friendly enough but harmless.
It was almost unsettling, but I put aside that discomfort. Best to take the good luck when I could get it.
Just as summer fell onto the kingdom, we reached our destination. The Everforge, the last legacy of the Smith, the Founder of Flames, and, hopefully, our sanctuary for the foreseeable future.
Comments
Philippe Boulanger
If I was Wallace, a quick fix in the meantime of directly controlling cold iron, I would put a normal metal ring around the hilt of the knife. Thus he could control the cold iron dagger through the normal metal. Imagine a telekinetically controlled iron dagger, a nightmare for any mage
dash w
I like having Wallace work on trying to manipulate cold iron
