A New Light (The Astral Wanderer Book 1), D'Artagnan Rey [best romantic novels to read .TXT] 📗

when his Anima enhanced it, he felt stronger and faster than he could have imagined. Common sense reminded him that he should probably steady himself. If he tried to attack without understanding his new power, he could launch himself into one of the rocks in the distance. He lowered slightly and moved his blade to the side before he surged forward and launched himself at his opponent with a challenging shout.

Vaust did not move, but as the boy’s blade swung, he retaliated with his kama. Their blades clashed and Devol stopped several yards behind the mori. He spun, as did his companion, who twirled his weapon casually at his side. With a bewildered frown, he caught a glimmer from his blade. It had seemed like his adversary had merely parried the blow, but when he turned and looked down, his vision blurred slightly. Confused, he shook his head and stared at what looked like a long black mark sliced into his blade.

He paused to examine it. What had happened and how was it possible? It must have come from the mori’s weapon. He held his sword a little higher but his head began to swirl. Was he getting sick? He had been fine a moment before. Then, he began to cough and fell to one knee as he sputtered.

“So, point proven, then?” Vaust called as he examined the boy’s reaction.

Devol grunted and his Mana flared as he pushed to his feet, once again prepared to strike, even with a broken blade. “Neat trick,” he responded. “I don’t suppose you will tell me how you did it?”

“You’ve proven you can be smart,” his adversary pointed out, flipped his kama, and caught it by the handle. “Where would the fun be if I simply spelled it out for you?”

“Then I won’t stop until I work it out,” he declared and surged toward the older Magi.

“Doing the wrong thing repeatedly…” Vaust sighed and readied himself to counter. But before the attack completed, the boy suddenly stopped his charge, slid along the grass, and kicked dirt into his eyes to obscure his vision. Momentarily surprised, he almost missed a bright flash from above as the young swordsman vaulted upward, ready to strike. He leaned back as the weapon arced and the blade narrowly missed his chest.

Startled, he jumped back and scowled at a small cut on the lapel of his jacket. If he had not cut through the other blade, that could have been a clean strike.

“Well done, Devol,” the mori complimented and his eyes widened when the boy barreled toward him.

“I’m not done!” he shouted and prepared to thrust with the blade before another coughing fit slowed his approach.

Vaust almost laughed. He had to concede that the youngster had tenacity, but it was getting late and the point of setting up camp was to rest. “Yes, you are,” he responded, flipped his kama again, and took one step back. The attack slashed at nothing but air and he brought his weapon down on the back of the young swordmaster’s head to knock him into unconsciousness. “For the night at least.”

Devol awoke to birds chirping and the smell of the meadow. He rubbed the back of his head where a dull pain nagged at him as he glanced to where Vaust strode in through the cave entrance. The Magi offered him honeycombs and more berries.

“Good morning.” The older Magi greeted him cheerfully and pointed behind him to where his sword was sheathed not far away. “Don’t forget that.”

The previous night’s events rushed back to him and he sighed and continued to rub his head. “I guess I didn’t win, huh?”

“You did well, especially since it was your first time using Anima and your weapon was slightly damaged.” The man showed him the nick on his jacket as he popped a few red berries into his mouth. “It’s not like you have been trained in how to correctly use a majestic. It is a sword and swordsmanship is important, but it is more than merely a pointy stick.”

“So you won’t tell me what happened?” he asked around some of the honeycomb. “I don’t know what your majestic is able to do but I don’t fall ill like that. I haven’t had to see a doctor in two years.”

“A robust constitution.” His companion selected a few berries and popped them into his mouth. “If you had used a regular weapon or even a lower quality exotic, it would have been rendered useless. Your majestic endured but that doesn’t mean there wouldn’t be ill effects.”

“So that’s a no,” Devol mumbled and retrieved his blade. He unsheathed it halfway and looked for the black mark, but it was no longer there. “So it must have been the power of your majestic, then?”

Vaust poured a little water into his tin cup and sipped it. “An accurate guess,” he remarked. “And no, I won’t explain it yet.”

“Why not?” he asked with an edge of impatience in his tone.

“It’s simple.” He looked the boy dead in the eye. “As I said, all majestics are unique. I’m not saying you will run into another who has one, but should you ever run into an enemy or hostile Magi and are forced to deal with them, do you think they will simply explain the fine points of their abilities?”

A little angry at that response, he ate a few berries and looked away from the mori’s gaze. “I suppose they wouldn’t,” he admitted finally as he chewed.

“Smart boy.” Vaust chuckled. “Neither you nor I know what the future holds. I don’t know if you’ll stay with the Templars or lead a life that brings you into confrontation with other Magi. But if there is even a tiny part in you that is considering it…well, it’s best to be prepared, is it not?”

Devol swallowed his food, sighed, and nodded. “You’re right. I’ll work on it.”

“You should do that for you, not me,” his companion stated, finished his meal, and began to pack. “Come