Immortal Swordslinger 1 Page 10

  “Who knows what this place is?” He jerked a thumb at the wide cave mouth behind him.

  Hamon and Vesma’s hands shot up. She waved her arm as though she was a sixth grader who wanted the teacher to pick her, and she let out a loud groan when Rutmonlir nodded to Hamon.

  “It’s an entrance to the Ember Cavern,” Hamon said. “A vigorous zone guarded by the Radiant Dragon Guild.”

  “That’s right,” Rutmonlir confirmed. “We contain the creatures that spawn from its arcane heart, and harvest their cores while we’re at it. Who knows what sort of beasts we’ll find here?”

  Again, Hamon and Vesma were the first to raise their hands. This time, Rutmonlir picked Vesma, and she shot the other initiate a satisfied smile.

  “Ember sprites,” she answered. “They grant the Flame Shield technique. And scorched salamanders, for Untamed Torch.”

  “Right again. Ember sprites are nippy fuckers, not powerful but fast. They swarm as thick as fleas on a cat’s ass. You don’t want to get caught out in one of their nests.”

  Rutmonlir continued. “Scorched salamanders though: each one of them’s a menace by herself. They’re hard to find and tough to kill, but it only takes three of their cores to learn Untamed Torch, while you’ll need 10 ember sprites to get any bloody thing at all.”

  “So, who’s ready to go in?” our tutor asked.

  Most of us raised our hands.

  “Wrong!” Rutmonlir bellowed. His voice shook pebbles loose on the upper slopes and sent them bouncing down the mountainside. “You’re all too low level to go walkabout in a vigorous zone. Ain’t that right, young Kegohr?”

  All eyes turned to Kegohr, who looked shamefaced down at his feet. The only one not looking his way was Vesma, who glared daggers at Master Rutmonlir.

  “Yes, Master,” Kegohr rumbled as he leaned on his giant mace.

  I’d been enjoying Rutmonlir’s gruff, no-nonsense demeanor as a striking contrast from the formality of so many guild masters. But now, I found myself souring against him. There was clearly something in Kegohr’s past, something painful enough to shame the bold half-ogre, and Rutmonlir was using it despite that pain, perhaps even because of it.

  “You’re going to use lures to draw the beasties out.” Rutmonlir held up two glowing objects. One was an amber-colored stone in the shape of a teardrop, only a few inches long. The other was a glowing red ball the size of Kegohr’s fist, trapped within a wire cage. Both were attached to leather cords. “The little one’s for ember sprites, and the big bugger’s for scorched salamanders. They can’t resist them.”

  He continued. “You’ll need to work in groups, whichever beastie you’re after. There ain’t enough lures for you to do both, so get into groups of three and decide what you want to be able to cast—Flame Shield or Untamed Torch.”

  Before the rest of us even had time to form groups, Hamon strode out of the throng. He leapt lithely up in front of Rutmonlir and snatched the larger lure from the master’s hand.

  Rutmonlir snorted. “Feel like a challenge do you, young Hamon? And who’s gonna take that on with you?”

  “No one,” Hamon replied. “I can do this on my own.”

  Rutmonlir’s eyes narrowed, and for a moment, it looked like he would discipline Hamon. But then, he snorted again, and his beard shook as the breath burst through it.

  “All right, you cocky little bugger,” he said. “Let’s see what you’ve got.” He glared at the rest of us. “Don’t you lot go getting ideas. Just because I’m happy to see him get his head bit off doesn’t mean you can do the same.”

  I figured if Hamon could take the monsters on by himself, then I could do the same. I was about to tell Rutmonlir that I’d be going solo when I saw Kegohr with Vesma standing beside him. The other initiates seemed to be avoiding the two I’d faced in the practice yard. Whether it was because Kegohr was wild, I didn’t know, but it looked like they’d need my help in the challenge.

  “You two want to work with me?” I asked.

  “Sure!” Kegohr gave me a broad smile, and he lumbered toward me as though he wanted a hug.

  “Great.” I took a step back before he could wrap me in his massive arms.

  Vesma groaned. “Fine,” she said. “You’ll do.”

  I couldn’t help feeling as if she was just downplaying my skills since I’d beaten her when we’d spared. I didn’t mind though; I liked proving people wrong.

  “What are these techniques we have to choose between?” I asked.

  “Flame Shield does what it says,” Kegohr explained. “Summons a shield of flame around you. It can burn up incoming arrows and hurt attackers. Untamed Torch lets you shoot fire from your hands. Good for attacking, especially once you get good at it.”

  Untamed Torch sounded a lot like the sword I’d had back on Earth. I recalled the magical weapon and wondered whether I’d ever see it again. Acquiring these new techniques would, at least, make up for losing it, but I still had so much to learn about this world.

  My new teammates were far more knowledgeable than me on almost every subject, and I wondered whether they had some kind of trick that would help me progress at a faster rate. Anything helpful for the coming battle against the magical beasts might give me an edge.

  “Any tips?” I asked.

  “No. You should have done your homework.” Vesma glared at me, so I decided to turn my attention to her more helpful friend.

  “Did you work this stuff out thanks to being a wild?” I asked.

  “From my da,” Kegohr said. “He was a great fire Augmenter, wanted me to follow in his footsteps. Taught me theory when I was just a sprog—what the arts and techniques are, what beasts you get them from, what’s good to use when.”

  I wanted to say something about how proud his father must be that Kegohr had joined a fire guild. But he’d talked about his “da” in the past tense, and from his tone, it didn’t sound like his father had just retired. I decided to wait and ask Vesma about it later.

  “Untamed Torch sounds good,” I said. “I’d like a better ranged attack than Stinging Palm.”

  “I want Flame Shield,” Vesma said.

  “One vote each way,” I said. “I guess it’s up to you, Kegohr.”

  “I’d rather be safe,” the half-ogre said. “Stay on my feet long enough to get in there with my fists. I want Flame Shield.”

  In all my years of learning martial arts, I’d always been more drawn to aggressive moves than defensive ones. I liked to get up in my opponents’ faces, not wait for them to come to me. But I needed people to work with, not just today but in general, so I was willing to go with the views of my new friends.

  “Let’s go catch some sprites, then,” I suggested.

  We fetched one of the smaller lures from Rutmonlir and joined our fellow students around the mouth of the Ember Cavern. The entrance to the cave was vast, a gaping maw in the side of the broken-topped mountain. There was a flat, open space outside the cave mouth and the teams of initiates spread out around its edge. We laid our lures to draw our prey before hiding behind rocks and ridges to watch them. My group was at the leftmost edge, where the rock plateau turned into a scree slope. Hamon, of course, took a place in the middle of everyone and faced directly into the cave mouth.

  For almost an hour, we waited and watched the darkness. We stayed as still as we could and kept our conversations to whispers, not wanting to do anything that might put off an approaching beast. If anyone got too loud or started roaming away from the their lure, Rutmonlir would smack them across the back of the head, a none-too-gentle reminder to stay on task.

  The silence suited Vesma. Any time Kegohr and I started up a whispered conversation, she glared at us until we shut up. The warmth of the day made the waiting pleasant, but the prospect of earning more magical techniques kept me eager. I ignored the cramp in my leg until it became too much to bear, and I was just getting up to stretch it when the first ember sprite appeared in the cave mouth.

  I froze and watche
d the strange creature emerge from the cavern’s dark entrance. It was three feet tall and seemed to be made of burning coal with seams of fire shining between blocks of blackness. Shaped almost like a human, it stood on two legs with arms held out to either side. But it had a strangely rounded body, like an exaggerated pear, and the waddling movements of a duck. It wasn’t exactly a fearsome creature, but then, the wood sprites in Danibo Forest had almost seemed cute, and they were as deadly as any lion or bear from back home.

  The creature swiveled around as its blazing yellow eyes peered from its tiny head. It took in the range of lures, apparently torn between them, then took a tentative step toward ours.

  “Come on,” I whispered. “Come to me, you lovely little chunk of Vigor.”

  With a pattering of small feet, another sprite emerged from the cave mouth, then another, and another. The sound grew as they swarmed out of the cave—first a handful, then a dozen, then 40 or more of them. The air smelled of smoke as they approached the lures, and they waddled faster as those at the rear tried to push their way through.

  The first sprite reached our lure and grabbed hold of it with both hands. The creature tried to carry away its prize, but I tugged on the line and dragged it toward the rock where my group lay. The sprite looked up, saw me, and let out a hiss like water steaming off a burning brand. The other creatures joined in the noise, and their mouths opened to reveal flaming tongues and rows of pointed teeth.

  “Keep it up,” Kegohr whispered. “This one will bring the rest to us.”

  I tugged on the lure again, but the sprite released the item and leapt toward my location behind the rock. The others let out giddy squeals as they noticed their fellow had found something, then swarmed toward my position.

  The other guild teams were still attempting to draw the sprites to their lures, but only a few stragglers were discouraged from surging toward me.

  I drew my sword and swung just as the first sprite came within reach. It jumped over my attack and landed on top of my sword. It hissed at me, and retractable claws shot out from its tiny hands. I reared back, just a second before those little blades would have cut open my face, and flipped my sword around. The sprite tumbled to the ground, and I delivered a well-aimed chop that sliced off an arm.

  The creature screeched and staggered back. I lunged after it and ran it through with a single thrust.

  The move put me in among the sprites that pounced at me from all sides. I couldn’t see my teammates because of the sheer number of creatures attacking me with their claws as they sliced me open. The gashes were only small, but I didn’t want to die a death of a thousands cuts. There were so many of them that they had trouble doing much more than punching me with tiny fists and grabbing onto my limbs. I’d become a human ship covered in sprite-barnacles. For such small creatures, they had a lot of strength, and I staggered beneath the tsunami of blows.

  “Bit off more than you can chew?” Rutmonlir roared from atop a boulder. “You cocky bastard!”

  Then Vesma and Kegohr threw themselves at the swarm of enemies. She knocked the creatures away with flying swipes and kicks, and he tore them from my body before slamming them against the ground. Vesma kicked a sprite in a leaping maneuver that would have rivaled any of the World Cup’s best strikers. Kegohr pulverized another with the end of his mace, its smoking form like a giant squashed bug crushed beneath the weight of his weapon.

  With my body mostly free of sprites, I began taking them out with precise swings and slashes. My sword became caked in a thick substance that resembled lava, except it didn’t melt my sword. Every time I struck a sprite, the lava fell away, and a creature died. Soon, I was surrounded by sprite corpses, but I didn’t let up.

  As a sprite charged at me, I launched thorns at it from the palm of my hand. The wooden spikes burst into flames as they hit its body and turned to ash before they could do any damage.

  Just like a video game, wood was ineffective against fire. I wondered whether Tolin had been serious when he’d said learning wood techniques would give me a competitive edge; it seemed almost completely useless against my current foes. I’d just have to come up with some other way to kill them.

  Another sprite dove at me from the air, and I wheeled around just as it came within striking distance. The heat of its body was like a roaring furnace, but I endured and swung my sword around. The creature squealed as my blade penetrated its fiery abdomen and severed its torso in two.

  A roar reverberated from the cave, and a vast lizard ran out, twelve feet long from nose to tail. Its body was black, and soot tumbled from its sides. Its eyes flashed as bright as the sun, and fire shot from its mouth.

  A scorched salamander.

  Hamon had positioned himself perfectly for the moment the salamander burst from the cave. The scaled beast ran straight for his bait, grabbed it between its teeth, and kept moving. As it turned to head back into the cave, Hamon leapt out of his hiding place, curved sword arcing through the air.

  The salamander twisted away, barely avoiding a meeting between blade and neck. It dropped the lure and shot a fireball at Hamon. He leapt over the projectile and landed just beyond the reach of the flames. He closed his eyes, and the air seemed to ripple around him, as though he was gathering his Vigor.

  I didn’t know if scorched salamanders could hold a grudge, but this one clearly had Hamon in its sights. It ran after him, claws outstretched, teeth bared.

  Just as the salamander reached him, Hamon leapt into the air once more. He twisted end over end, and as the beast’s head came up, his hand came down to meet it and punched the salamander in the snout. It stumbled back a step and shook its head as though it was dazed. Hamon landed behind it, and his sword swung around in an arc that sliced through the beast’s neck. The salamander fell to the ground, and its head rolled away. Blood ran thick as lava from the decapitated corpse as Hamon stood triumphant.

  I turned my attention back to the fight around me. Between us, my trio had killed perhaps 30 or more ember sprites. Although Vesma battled unarmed, she’d handled herself as well as any other initiate. Kegohr chuckled as he swatted a sprite a dozen feet away with his mace, the end caked with blood and innards.

  I stabbed at another of the sprites as it ran past and skewered it with my sword. As I pulled it off the blade, its core lay exposed in a cage of bones. I stared at the glowing block of power.

  The tide of ember sprites was tapering off. A few minutes before, they had been streaming out of the cave in a vast wave, but that was over. A few were still lurking around the cave mouth as they eyed the lures from a distance, but none were rushing at the initiates any more.

  Given the chance, we stopped to catch our breath and check the score.

  “That was fun.” Kegohr tugged a core out of a dead sprite’s corpse.

  “More exciting than another morning of meditation,” I agreed as I flung a corpse on the heap.

  “Shit,” Vesma said. “There were so many of them, we didn’t think to be careful about the kills.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  “Look.” She lifted an ember corpse with a torn midsection. I could see the bone-cage where the core should have been, but there was only a glowing residue.

  “The core was destroyed?” I asked.

  “Yeah. If we weren’t fighting for our lives, we could have been more careful. Ember sprites have really weak skeletal corrals.”

  “Skeletal corrals? Are they these bone-cage things?”

  Vesma nodded. “Other beasts have stronger cages, so it’s less likely you’ll damage the cores inside them. Some monsters even have magic that encases the skeletal corrals.”

  “Then we’ll be more careful. But surely we didn’t destroy so many cores. We should have enough to gain Flame Shield.”

  “We have fourteen.” Vesma looked at our collection of cores. “Not enough.”

  Everyone was in the same boat. Across the mountainside, groups of initiates faced the cave mouth with a mixture of trepidatio
n and annoyance. Some bore injuries from clashes with the sprites—red raw bites and scratches on their arms and faces, burnt patches on their robes.

  “Any group got their 30?” Rutmonlir called out.

  There was a shaking of heads and some disappointed mumbling.

  “Better lay your lures out again, then,” he said. “You’re going to have to wait some more.”

  The initiates groaned as one. After the thrill of the fight, I imagined the last thing they wanted to do was sit here for another hour or more and wait for more sprites to find their way out. I suspected it might take longer than before. After all, we’d just slaughtered the beasts that had been nearby, able to sense our lures and be drawn out by them. If more came, they would be drawn from deeper in, perhaps only coming out a few at a time, a dribble of power to be shared between all the initiates in the class.

  I hadn’t groaned, nor was I unwilling to be patient. Except I knew that waiting around for more sprites to show wasn’t the smartest tactic.

  I could do better.

  I grabbed my team’s lure, its smooth surface warm against the palm of my hand. Heat radiated from it, along with the increasingly familiar tingle of magical power.

  “What are you doing?” Vesma asked.

  “Getting us the rest of our cores,” I said. “Follow me.”

  I walked toward the cave mouth while I spun the lure on the end of its cord.

  “You feeling brave, lad?” Rutmonlir yelled from atop his boulder. “Don’t go getting yourself killed. The last thing I want to do after a hard day’s work is pick up your charred corpse.”