Maged and Dangerous

Karsol & Havoc

The wispy clouds breezed by the twilight sky as the first rays of the morning pulled back the night’s deep, blue curtains, slowly giving way to the distant glow of the twin suns. In the distance, a shadow in the horizon steadily galloped across the moorland. The landscape was sparse, with a few shrubs dotted across the rocky hills. A silhouette cut through the scenery saddled on a young colt, and a cloaked man steeled his eyes in front of him as a quiet village emerged from the backdrop.

Unassuming at first glance with its calm and quaint appearance, unlike the loud hustle and bustle of the city the cloaked man was accustomed to, one would never think that it would be a site of any kind of… excitement. It’s not like he was here for leisure; the cloaked man was here for business, “…and business only”, his superior would say.

As he reached his destination, the man pulled off his hood. He took a breath, surveying his surroundings as his training took over like muscle memory. He brought out a small crystal from his belt and whispered a few words into it, grabbing the gem tightly. The crystal began to warm up in his touch and emitted a faint glow. “We’re close, Ichabod.” The horse neighed in reply.

He tied his companion to a nearby tree, a few ways away from the outermost houses. The man pulled out an apple from his satchel and brought it to his horse’s mouth. “Here you go, boy,” he said while the horse chewed on the apple. “Go ahead and rest while I go hunt the bad man so we can get home sooner, yeah?”

Leaving his horse to the rest of the treat, the man began walking towards the village. With the suns barely peeking above, the few people awake shut their windows at the sight of the man. It was only a few paces away from what seemed to be a pub when the crystal in the man’s hand began to shine brighter than earlier. Looking closer at the front of the place, he saw a sign that read “The Hammered Scallop” peeking out the corner of a house. The man’s face scrunched as he walked closer, and the faint smell of alcohol wafted from the entrance. The righteous slam of the door signaled his entry to the fine establishment, followed by a man on the other side slipping from the table and slamming onto the floor. Quite a fine establishment, indeed.

The crystal shattered. Guess it was time.

The cloaked man pointed at the drunkard on the floor. “I am Ephraim of the Imperial court. Sceolan the Daggerscale, you are to be apprehended for your crimes against the Imperator, for your pillaging of Imperial garrisons, the thievery of His treasury — ”

“Do you want the money back?” Sceolan planted his arm on the floor and squinted at the man, slumping back on the bar table. His eyelids drooped, yet the green of his eyes slowly cleared behind them. “I can give it back if your Imperiousness asks nicely.”

Ephraim’s hands began to glow a fiery red as he approached the criminal.

The outlaw’s eyebrows perked up. “Oh, they sent a bounty magus after me? They must be getting desperate.”

“Don’t make this any harder for the both of us.”

“It doesn’t need to be difficult if you were to just… well, let me go. C’mon, I just woke up! Lend me some courtesy here…”

“Funny coming from a widely known convict for fifty-three crimes — ”

“Fifty-four.”

“Huh? What do you mean?”

Sceolan finally brought himself to stand up before reaching behind his coat. Before Ephraim could speak, Sceolan conjured a volley of daggers towards the magus. With quick reflexes and a wave of his hands, he concentrated his focus in front of him, summoning an ephemeral disc in front and ricocheting the blades away. Chaos erupted in the pub as people began to wake up to the ensuing ruckus. Before he could react, Sceolan leaped and steered his body sideways, using both feet to kick the conjured shield. Ephraim flew towards a table, crashing into a few chairs that broke upon meeting his back.

Standing up with a smirk, Sceonlan said, “Uh-huh. That’s the fifty-fourth.” Brushing himself off, he made his way towards the exit when suddenly he felt a burning, hot object brush past his ear. He cried out in pain as he felt the tip of his ear get singed. He turned around and saw Ephraim on his feet, his face in a scowl. In his hands were balls of fire, dancing on his palm.

Sceolan dropped his own cloak and brought his hands together. A flash of light temporarily blinded Ephraim, and once the light faded, the outlaw was covered by numerous blades wrapped around his body like a suit of armor. “Didn’t expect a dance this early in the morning.”

With a flick of his hand, he sent two knives hurtling towards Ephraim, which the latter deflected effortlessly. Ephraim countered with a stream of fire hooking towards the outlaw. Sceolan dodged and weaved under the flame, sweeping his legs along the grain of the pub’s floorboard.

Ephraim sent another sizzling fireball towards Sceolan, leaving little room for the outlaw to escape. Sceolan drove a solid wave of blades between the two, leaving a tiny gap for him to see his opponent. The two took a drawn-out breath, taking in the heat of smoldering planks and burnt cloth. Sceolan rested his arm on the side of a charred barstool. “What’s wrong? You’re a bit slow for the academy’s star rookie.”

Taking a step backward, Ephraim’s scowl turned into a confused glare. “How did you happen upon that rubbish?”

“Oh, come on, the Imperium’s generals never shut up about this up-and-coming magus who topped the trials last season.”

“What does it matter to you?”

“Oh, did I touch a sore spot for the wee lad?” Sceolan grinned.

“Shut up!” The pub stood silent as the fire mage stood unmoving. “I-I… did not fight tooth and nail just to be treated like a ‘wee lad’.”

“Yea, the lad from the city’s best academy? You must be popular with the lassies.”

Ephraim took a long breath. “You are a horrible target!” He placed his fingers on his temple and began rubbing it. “You know, the other guys weren’t as chatty as you.”

“Look who’s talking — ”

Ephraim raised his voice. “And for your information, I wasn’t! My peers weren’t exactly hospitable.”

Sceolan took a burning chair from his side and brushed the flames off with a wave of his fingers. “Care to share?”

“I just… I thought it would be different. I thought I could achieve my goals as long as I did my best and proved my worth. And it did, for a while! My professors told me I was the ‘most talented among my peers’. And in that moment, I finally felt that I had a gift! Something to show the world — that I wasn’t just some… orphan whose parents abandoned in the street. But then… my classmates began to treat me differently. They started picking on me and… I didn’t want them to be like that. I-I thought they were my friends…”

The outlaw’s face was blank and unreadable. For a while, the two just stared at each other, no one daring to break the silence. That was until Sceolan shattered the wall of blades and walked cautiously toward the fire mage, his boots hitting the floor with a loud thud. “But why do you care so much about what other people think? To ‘ell with ’em, Ephraim!”

“Because I need power!” he shouted. “I’m… afraid. If I’m not the strongest, then I won’t be able to protect myself… and the people I care about.”

The fire mage was as still as a statue. Somehow, Sceolan didn’t know what to do. He lifted his hand but hesitated. This was the first time he experienced an opponent being vulnerable. But this was not the first time he saw Ephraim like this. The bounty magus suddenly felt a hand on his shoulder.

“I’m so sorry that happened to you,” Sceolan said. “People can be monsters sometimes.”

“Yeah, well…” Ephraim replied. “It happens.”

“For all it’s worth, I think you’re a damn good mage. You might be wet around the ears, but you’ve got that fire in you. And…” Sceonlan opened his arms and hugged the bounty mage. He took a deep sigh. ”I’m sorry… brother.”

Ephraim’s eyes went wide. “W-what do you mean by bro — ”

A puff of powder to his face sent a viscous wave through his muscles. Ephraim’s mind struggled to process his brother’s words as his limbs went limp. His vision blurred as he looked at Sceolan and lightly punched him in the arm. “Did you just drug me, you ba…”

Sceolan patted away the excess powder from his pants. “Just like you, I have to protect the ones I care about.” He took a look at his sleeping brother’s face as he carried him outside the burning pub: the aftermath of their duel. “Including you.”

He took the unconscious body of the bounty hunter and left him on the porch of another house. He took another look at the sleeping figure. “Sleep well and… I hope one day you can forgive me.”

The next morning, a cloaked figure left the quaint village on his young colt, so similar to how he arrived the day before. But this time, he had a different goal as he hunted down his target. This time, he had a different spark in his eye.

“I found you once, I’ll find you again… brother.”