A wish gladly granted by Remnit and so tomorrow Kirthanas left for Remnit’s Castle.
* * *
Litar scoffed at the rain pounding against her cloak as she looked for natural shelter in the moons light. She could not believe she was on her own again. Once again cast off. Litar was orphaned as a young child from a royal background. Her father was of the proudest warriors and wouldn’t have a magic user as a child! It was unheard of since The War of Steal and Magic. But the young girl was very proud of her power. Her pride is what drove her on and one day she found a teacher who saw the true power she possessed. Abandoned at the young age of ten and she was taken in by Frendle, a great wizard of Ramus the god of fire and the red moon, at almost the age of twelve. For nearly two years she survived on her own, roaming from town to town, giving her a cynical outlook on life. Her evil was suppressed by Frendle when he saved her and trained her in the ways of the magic user for six long and productive years. Litar studied day and night her nose always buried in the ancient text Frendle had gathered. She read every book she could get her hands on. Now a beautiful eighteen she was one of the most powerful wizards for her age. There was nothing more Frendle could teach her, and so as others before him he sent her off. Frendle gave her a ring with the symbol of the crimson robed mage. He told her that the crimson robe was secretive and only the wizards with the ring will be trusted. Litar trusted no one and really didn’t want to leave her father for anything. However he was not her father and needed to teach others. The fastest learner he ever had, Litar accomplishing in six years what takes some decades. Her magical strength paralleled that of the greatest mages of legend. She had the true making of a great wizard and would no doubt return one day even more powerful than himself. Frendle sent Litar to the mystical lands of the southwest. There she would find the Circle of Corphious to learn her true destiny and realize the full potential of her magic. They said their good byes and she was off on her own again. The cruelties of the world returned but with past experience and her new skills she would be just fine. The craving magic gave her drove her onward thirsting for power, a thirst that even this relentless rain could not quench.
* * *
Early morning arrived and the rain had finally cleared. The rain seemed to cleanse the land of the evil and darkness it held. The morning was the most beautiful Jenrig had ever seen in his many years of life. Dew drops lay everywhere glistening in the suns, dancing to the sunray’s dance. The leaves and bushes that surrounded and encircled the complex swayed in the gentle breeze. He thought of the day ahead of him as he tied his blue bandanna around the top of his head just under his hair line, holding up his short thin brown hair. He reminisced of all the intense training as he folded another blue cloth into a triangle. He then pulled it over his nose and mouth and tied it behind his head. Pulling the unique breastplate, he himself forged, over his head he remembered his teachers wise words of magic. Tying his arm guards to his forearms he closed his eyes in pride and a feeling of finally accomplishing something rolled over him. His thigh and shin plates were then attached to his legs. He equipped his triceps guards next. Lastly he tied the blue flame bandannas around each elbow. With the final tug on his right arm bandanna he started for the door. This traditional dress mixed the armor of a warrior and the robes of the ancient wizard represented by the bandannas. Jenrig walked forward out of his house his head held high. Today was his day and everyone knew it. His honorable choice was to become a wanderer and this was his Day of Wandering. He was the most skilled warrior the clan may have ever seen. He walked to the Chieftain’s throne and bowed to his ruler. The ceremony began and Jenrig couldn’t be happier. Toward the end of the celebration the Chieftain made an irregular gesture for Jenrig to approach the throne.
“Jenrig, you are the finest warrior I have ever seen and your magical power matches that of the ancient pure blue flame wizards. You are truly blessed by Corphious as well as Enevyr. Today you become a true Warrior of the Blue Flame! Yet for you a tradition that is reserved for the select few will be held, if you choose to accept it.” Jenrig very confused yet extremely excited to be chosen for anything special eagerly accepted. With his word of acceptance the chief yelled for his generals, the finest warriors of the clan. The chief told the clan as he told Jenrig of the final challenge he will face. Jenrig was to fight all four generals to first blood and then fight the Chieftain himself. If Jenrig was hit by any of the generals or the chief he loses. If he wins versus everyone he will be given the title of Hero in the clan, second in line to the Emperor of the clan who lives in the original encampment of the first blue flame clan. This was the highest honor any one could receive. If he won he would be successor to the Emperor. Jenrig was confused on how the Chieftain could make such a huge choice by himself until he saw the Emperor. The clan fell to one knee their heads bowed. Jenrig was asked to rise and the Emperor spoke to him.
“You have been recommended for a high title and after your display in the ceremonies today I have chosen to give you a chance to acquire it. The warriors of this clan are my finest. If you defeat them you will become Hero of the Blue Flame. You still will honor your choice to become a Wanderer and in your later years you will start your own clan and if you win today you will succeed my throne. Good luck. Do you have sufficient spells in you memory for this battle?”
“Yes, my lord.”
“Then let the battle commence!” The Emperor then finished the traditional ceremony by handing Jenrig his taimar, or sword lance. The taimar is two long swords with specially forged handles that are connected at the hilts by the unique blue flame connector piece. Any warrior of the blue flame could forge the handles of any two long swords and then from the metal left over forge a connector piece. They are taught this from early childhood. The taimar is a part of the warrior’s body and without it they are not complete. The weapon is generally used by being spun and some maneuvers resemble that of a quarterstaff.
Jenrig took his taimar and enter the fighting ring. Nirton, his first opponent and a great general entered the special ring. Since Jenrig was still inexperienced the Generals and Chieftain could only use medium to weak, one on one spells. Some spells were spells that Jenrig couldn’t use until years from this date do to complexity and experience needed. Other spells could wipe out large groups. Some spells in the chieftain’s arsenal could decimate armies.
Since spells couldn’t shed blood unless intended to or powered up, weaker spells of Jenrig’s arsenal would also be used. The call to fight was given by the Chieftain and the fighters entered their combat stances. Nirton’s stance was traditional, both hands spinning the Taimar on his right side. Jenrig’s stance was unique and ill experienced, yet fit his every need in battle. Jenrig stood slightly crouched with his left leg leading and his left arm extended forward, his left hand held in a claw like position. His right arm was extended back spinning the Taimar faster then most could with two hands. The Taimar in his hand became almost a blazing disk blurred by ill vision.
Nirton made the first move and charged forward, Jenrig chanted the words of a blue beam in a war like yell as from his left hand blazed a beam over a foot in diameter at Nirton. The blast sent Nirton back into the air phased from the surprising strength of such a usually weak spell. Slamming into the ground he hesitated from pain and then quickly rolled to his feet and back into his stance.
“The strength of his magic is outstanding!” exclaimed the Emperor in great surprise, “But the rules are long written and the generals may not use more powerful spells then Jenrig could possibly have, other wise this tournament would be impossible to win. The tournament is to measure skill and talent in battle not experience which Jenrig had no chance to obtain.”
Phased still by the magical blow Nirton closed in and attacked Jenrig again. This time Jenrig blocked Nirton’s swing outward and spun with his blocking swing crouched almost under Nirton’s arm. Instead of going completely under Jenrig stopped almost leaning his back on the side of Nirton’s stomach and planted his elbow right under Nirton’s sternum, which hurt Jenrig more then Nirton since Nirton had armor on. Then Jenrig swiftly rotated his arm upward smashing the back of his fist right into Nirton’s nose causing blood to flow freely from it. The first battle was over, Jenrig was triumphant.
The next general, Benlow, entered the ring. The two danced until Benlow cast a blue fireball. The ball of pure blue pulsating light flew at Jenrig with unrelenting speed. With only an instant to react Jenrig chanted the one word spell of shield. Flexing his left arm against his body the blue fireball dispersed in a wave over the bubble the surrounded Jenrig. Relaxing his arm the bubble of faint blue light disappeared and Jenrig counter attacked by spinning low and holding his Taimar still and fully extended. On the second full spin toward Benlow the tip of Jenrig’s Taimar barely nicked the upper waste of Benlow, but the unarmored area dripped blood none the less. Benlow congratulated Jenrig with a hand shake and stepped out of the circle.
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