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571. A Light in the Dark
🕑 Added 2024-02-11 08:00:05 +0000 UTCThis time, Martel was not in doubt; the Khivans knew to expect him and Eleanor. About ten of them were just ahead, spread out in a semicircle. They must have spotted the mages approaching and prepared their ambush accordingly, taking positions and waiting for the pair to walk into the trap.
Crouched next to him, Eleanor watched him with an unspoken question on her lips. In response, Martel held up all of his fingers. Next, he pointed to the left and described with his finger the semicircle where the Khivans were laid out. She gestured to the right and the left in another unspoken question.
Martel spent a moment considering the positions of their enemies. Straight ahead, four of them were up high, presumably sitting in the trees. They would be the primary sharpshooters, supporting the others from afar. Three on either side were on the ground, wielding pistols and melee weapons for close combat. Once Martel had determined how to best employ his spells, he pointed to the left.
Eleanor nodded and got on her feet, drawing her sword. Once her approach could no longer remain hidden, she broke into an empowered sprint, and even prepared, the Khivans barely could react before she was upon them. Following closely behind her, Martel raised his wall of flames to cut off the remaining Khivans, including breaking any line of sight to their sharpshooters in the trees. Another slaughter began.
***
The last of them tried to flee. Not taking any chances, Martel unleashed a lightning bolt that struck the Khivan between the shoulder blades, and he fell to the ground. Walking up to the body, the familiar stench of burning flesh and clothes reached him. He extended his magic to crumple up the barrel of the musket before grabbing the soldier and turning him around. He looked typically Khivan, maybe twice Martel's age. Probably an experienced warrior. Now he was just meat for carrion.
Martel bent down and grabbed the soldier's pistol. He removed the bullet with streaks of gold from the barrel and unleashed fire from his palm to melt the firing mechanism of the weapon. Throwing the hunk of iron and wood away, he returned to Eleanor, who had likewise been destroying the Khivan weapons. He threw the golden bullet to her. "One more for the collection."
***
On their way home, they stopped by a small pond and threw every gold-touched bullet into the water. Martel knew they could be considered valuable, but he had more coin than he could spend, and neither of them felt comfortable holding onto something made to kill mages. Every time he saw the water swallow one of these bullets into its depths, he felt a little more at ease.
Back in the outpost, they ate a quiet supper. Henry had finished his repairs and returned to Esmouth, and so had Starkad. This left few options for company; prefects did not mix with the regular soldiery.
Taking a stroll through camp just to pass the time before going to bed, Martel was nonetheless approached by a familiar figure. "Sir Martel, do you have time to speak?"
The battlemage looked at the spy, who must have recently returned; he did not recall seeing Wulfstan in the last few days. "What is it?"
"I was told of something that made me curious. I brought this for your troubles." He held out a jar of wine.
"Alright, ask your questions." Martel accepted the gift and took a seat on the ground after Wulfstan had done so.
"I heard that on your initial journey to Esmouth, you brought down a Khivan galley. Burned its sail, much how you destroyed the cannons. No visible spell, just pure magic."
"Yeah, that's true." Martel frowned, wondering why that would elicit any interest.
"My confusion is how you were able to do such a thing. I was given to understand that you could only destroy the cannons because they were heated from usage, but the sail of as ship would be as cold as anything else around it, wouldn't it?"
"That's true, and maybe I explained it too hastily. I don't necessarily need warmth to distinguish between things." He found a twig on the ground and grabbed it with his magic, levitating it into the air. "Reaching out with magic is like… Fumbling around in the dark. You're not really sure what your fingers are touching, but you can distinguish between different kinds of material. And the closer it is to you, the easier."
"Fascinating. But if something is hotter than their surroundings, that makes it easier for you to connect?" The spy stared at Martel with a serious demeanour, and the whole situation made him think of being questioned by Master Fenrick during class.
"Yes. It's like someone lighting a torch in the dark. I don't have to fumble around to find it. I know exactly where it is."
Wulfstan nodded to himself. "Most interesting. I feel like a blind man being described how it feels to see."
"Why exactly do you want to know this? This isn't useful except to other mages, and I assume they already know this." Martel did not know how as such it was for other elemental mages, but he assumed they had a similar connection to their own element; he doubted that anything he just said would be illuminating to them.
"You might be surprised. Of course, they all have some idea of how their abilities work and affect their surroundings, but in my experience, once a wizard has finished their training at the Lyceum, they simply continue along the same routines they were taught. There seems to be very little effort in expanding our knowledge or improving our methods," Wulfstan explained.
The spy might have a point in that, Martel conceded; certainly the legions seemed disinterested. Listening to Henry describe his work, it consisted of doing the same handful of tasks over and over. "Well, I wish you luck in your endeavour." Martel got on his feet, jar of wine in hand, and returned to his tent.
Eleanor, sitting outside, look up at him. "What do you have there?"
"I sold my knowledge for a drink. Where are our cups? I think we both earned a sip of this today."
~
Martel's character sheet (no change).
Comments
Matthew Flowers
Is Martel about to be conscripted into spycraft? These assignments and Wulfstans demeanor seem to point to this being some sort of recruitment process. That with Martels history in Morcaster’s underbelly makes me think an intelligence organization might have need of his skills
