Bright Morning

Life has those uncanny moments when unlikely experiences accumulate on layers, one on the top of another. I was a 52 years old, reincarnated in this Medieval Fantasy world 11 years ago. Temporarily shapeshifted into a 26 years old version of my deceased grandfather, dressed in borrowed clothes and caring on my shoulder the sword my father had used when he was a soldier of fortune in distant lands. Practitioner of the same Path of Cold-Iron that I am now studding. Was early in the morning, I had just left a, no point in sugarcoat things, a house of tolerance. After the most amazing night of conversation.

I, this commercial sector of city dedicated to adult entertainment is surrounded by tall stone walls, thick enough for six men to walk on top of them. There are watchtowers, all that stuff, despite this being a relatively calm city. Protected by a magic spell of level 5 or 6, I don’t really know which one.

I passed the open gate, walked up to the end of the block, wondering if I would be able to find my way back home. Someone had brough me to this place last night in a chariot.

Probably I could find my way back, asking. I knew the address. Never considered the public transportation logistic needed in a place like that. Also, the weird weight of that sword on my back. The shape of this thing was very odd, full of curves and points where a point had no business beings. Looked unpolished and rustic, not at all the elegant figure swords are supposed to look. Some mix between an overgrow machete and an overgrow hunting knife, made by a lazy blacksmith. The only pretty part of it is the handle.

Distracted in those thoughts I took the right in the first crossing street, thinking the river should be in that direction, probably my best chance to find a straight line in this complex mosaic of a town.

The turn placed me out of the view, and jurisdiction of those sentinels sleeping on the watchtower.

An explosion of light and pain took the ground from my feet. I lost my senses.

Came back with my butt on the ground. Dense smoke preventing me from seeing anything. Borrowed clothes destroyed, belt and boots burning a little. The sword somehow felt even bigger.

“You didn’t needed to turn the man into charcoal! Too much, Argos. There is this thing called TOO MUCH mana, you know. Half that…”

“You saw the man last night! He was dressed and equipped like a Battle-Mage. I didn’t wanted to take any chances of staying locked in a fight in the middle of the city for too long, Michael. We could not be sure if he had any active shielding spell, or anti-magic armour! I put the extra juice to end this in one hit!! Now, go confirm the kill and let’s leave this place! I didn’t had breakfast yet.”

Honestly, I was not thinking anymore. Maybe was the too literal shock, or maybe was all the training coming out from me. Like the blood leaving my nose, mouth and ears.

I jumped in the direction of Michael, the closest voice. Barelly felt the impact.

Turned back, when my feet touched the ground again. Sword between me and my foes.

Smoke clearing, slowly. Michael’s legs and right arm, still holding a fire-mage staff, were on the same place where our bodies collided. His head, left shoulder and arm had felt on a stair, meters away.

I had never actually hit anyone, say nothing about killing. However, those men clearly had magic expertise far beyond average, license to use spells inside the protective aura of the city or some way to circumvent that limitation. They also intended to kill me, evidently. I didn’t took any of that under consideration, I didn’t took anything under consideration. I would love to lie to you about this, because I am shamed to admit. I was beyond thinking.

Three men dressed like Battle-Mages, equipped with staffs and light armour, enchanted accessories, two of them with hats. Preposterous pointy hats, doubtless enchanted too. A fourth was dressed in heavy armour, arcane armour, could be an Arcane Knight.

Considering their positions neither of those men could be Mr Argos, the fellow responsible for the lightning spell.

“You shrank him, Argos!” said one of the Battle-Mages.

“Quit the joking, Michael is dead! The enemy must have been under some shapeshifting spell, Argos attack disrupted it. Step back, let us handle this.” The Arcane Knight said, already walking in my direction, seeking to place himself between me and his less protected companions.

The other Battle-Mages were already speaking their next enchantments.

I was badly bruised, my body was clearly developing that magic resistance my mentor speak about. The armour I was wearing in the legs and arms also must have helped. It was made by a high dragon, after all. From mana-absorbing chains, had to be good stuff. Still, I would not survive that fight if I allowed the full-plate guy to hold me in one place while the others emptied their mana reserves on me.

So, I run. Dodged the Arcane-Knight as if we were playing soccer. Jumped in the air, and felt by body collapse with the magic-aura of protection of one of those Battle-Mages. It burned my face and shoulder destroying skin and exposing bleeding flesh bellow. My sword claimed the man’s head though.

Not stopping I tried to reach the second mage speaking his spell, but collided with the Arcane-Knight. He was slower than me, but still fast enough to block my passage. He punched me back with his tower shield and came hard, attacking with his sword of thick blade. I could hear his incantation, something to block my senses or make me dizzy. Mind-Spell, blood manipulation, something I had read about in one of the books from Verenice’s personal library”

Arcane-Knights usually favour spells designed to be used at short distance, and learn to cast them faster than most mages are able to.

I dodged his word. Mine was blocked by his shield, three times in fast sequence, the impact only didn’t send me flying because I was attacking up. He was far heavier than me, and those Arcane-Armours have their own laws of inertia. Grounded in magic, ratter than physics. Still, he stepped back and almost lost balance.

Didn’t lost the incantation. I felt it hitting like a wave of memory and emotions, obscuring my senses and clouding my survival instinct with self-doubt. Was I right to fight this people? Should I flee or try to explain my actions?

As if moving by its own will my arms moved to block his sword, one instant before it cut me in half, like I had done a moment ago with his friend, Michael.

I felt on my back, and barely escaped his shiel edge.

My sword finally reached past his shield, at the back of his knee. His armour failed him, and this attack cut deep.

Didn’t severed his leg, tough. If that was a good Arcane-Armour his pain would be reduced, and his injure healed in instants. Without need for additional spells.

His shield send me flying away.

Meanwhile, his spell was still working inside my brain. A second wave hit me with more intensity. The effect was cumulative. I realized my reflexes were slowing down. An impact pushed me against a stone wall three meters behind. It was a water spell, but the burning and the smell showed it was not water. Something corrosive and toxic. The smell burning my lungs, a chunk of the stone dissolving like clay as I pushed it to get back on my feet.

“What for the Nine Horns is he!?”

The corrosive spell was cast by the Battle-Mage I had failed to reach an instant before. He was already speaking another incantation, waiving hands and staff. Water-Mage Staff.

This was not going well.

My eyes burning, my mind playing tricks on me, and my skin dissolving while breathe was painful. Still, I jumped. As close to the ground as I could, with all the strength I still had.

It worked. I managed to hit the Arcane-Knight with enough impact to send him against his Battle-Mage companion. The impact broke that Mage’s concentration, saving me from whatever that spell was, and I was close enough to plunge my sword trough the water mage’s chest. He died immediately.

The Arcane-Knight tried to hold my arm, and failed. But managed to punch my stomach with his other hand.

I almost lost conscience.

The Arcane-Knight finished pronouncing a basic healing spell. Doubtless for himself, to speed up the healing properties of his armour.

A globe of ice hit the side of my body, pushing me couple meters away. That less experienced mage, rich in commentaries and questions, had finally managed to find the time to contribute with the collective effort.

To kill me.

Somehow, despite all that, my right hand was still holding the two-handed sword of my father. That ugly, heavy, thing with a black blade.

I raised back to one knee. My other feet on the ground. Using the sword as a walking stick.

The Arcane-Knight was standing again. His shield was somewhere out of sight but he had managed to recover his tick bladed sword. His armour was practically intact.

The third wave of that mind-spell hit me like a crisis of certifiable depression. Given the option I would ratter choose a truck, any day of the week.

Argos finally showed his face, coming down from a spiral stair on the side of some tree floors building.

He was clearly a dwarf. The dwarven equipment is less familiar to me, but by the colour I would guess Lightning Mage. Big walrus moustache. Solid muscles. Too much armour for a typical Battle-Mage, not enough for Arcane-Knight. I wasn’t sure about what make with that, exactly.

Whatever. He was clearly the leader of that group. Strongest spellcaster that had managed to hit me with a spell in that fight.

This situation was not looking pretty from my point of view.

Our pall, Argos, was sparkling and with growing electric discharges camming from his war-hammer. Dwarven style magic wand, I assumed.

Then a dense mist raised from the ground, and dispersed almost immediately. My wannabe murders where gone. The corpses of their fallen companions had been carried away too. A staff and some crystals abandoned where they felt. City guards spread everywhere.

“What is this?” one of them asked.

“I think he is a human warrior, or some kind. Half-human perhaps.”

“Arrest him!”

“Cannot touch him, sire! This goo dripping from him is dangerous. We need some anti-magic and water spells first”

I lost the grip on my sword, and felt to the ground.

“…no one else! He will pay for this destruction alone, looks like.”