Bloodflowers Bloom (The Astral Wanderer Book 2), D'Artagnan Rey [essential reading .txt] 📗

“Morning you three.” He greeted them warmly and Devol noticed his second, lower pair of arms cradled a bundle of something wrapped in cloth. “I got word you guys were heading out on a big mission led by none other than the illustrious Captain Wulfsun.”

Vaust shook his head as he tapped the large Templar’s chest plate. “There are a number of things I would call Wulfsun but I’m certain illustrious is not one of them.”

“Ah, come off it, Vaust. He’s only telling it like his heart feels,” Wulfsun boasted, clearly delighted by Rogo’s proclamations. “But moving on from me for a moment. Rogo the smithy here has fashioned a few little trinkets for ya.”

“Trinkets?” Asla asked and looked at the bundle with interest. “Something with runes?”

Rogo waved one of his larger hands. “Nah, that’s not my expertise at the moment but I am rather good with majestics. I’ve been working on these since your first mission and thought it would be good to give you guys some options in the field just in case.”

He unwrapped the bundle and approached the young wildkin. “First for you, dear Asla.” He withdrew a miniature crossbow with strips on the bottom that he undid to bind them to her gauntlet. “This should give you ranged options. I know you are fast but sometimes, merely shooting things is smarter, you know?” He produced a pouch, handed it to her, and pointed at his waist. “There is about a dozen bolts in there and you can load up to three in the crossbow at once. The enchantment on the weapon lets you control the trajectory of any arrow you fire from it after its shot but only temporarily. The arrows have a little cobalt dust on them, which empowers them to punch through other missiles and even weaker spells.”

Asla nodded as she examined the crossbow. “I like this,” she told him with a soft smile. “Thank you, smithy. I will make sure to care for it.”

“Not a problem.” Rogo smiled, turned to Jazai, and retrieved a rather intricate piece of jewelry. Five silver rings were chained together by their sides to form a single item and he handed it to Jazai and motioned for him to put it on. “I had help from the dwarves with this one. They are better at handling magic in crafting,” he explained and pointed at the ring on the boy’s middle finger. “You can bind cantrips onto each of the rings. Then, you only have to point and send a trickle of mana into that ring and the stored spells will activate.”

“Truly?” Jazai marveled at the trinket. “That’s quite handy. I’m glad Zier isn’t around. He would probably say that gets in the way of me learning to use the spells without incantations.”

“Ah, you’ll have time to train for that, but you’re heading out into the field now,” Rogo exclaimed and tapped the rings again. “The dwarves told me you need to form the spell around one of the rings but not cast it. This binds it to the ring for you with the power you grant it.”

“I see.” The diviner focused on his pointer finger and exhaled a slow breath as he mumbled something. The ring glowed momentarily with his blue mana before a rune in the shape of an explosion appeared. “It’s a missile cantrip,” he explained and pointed to a rock. The ring flashed and two fist-sized missiles launched, streaked into the rock, and destroyed it. Jazai nodded with a satisfied grin. “Much appreciated Rogo. I can certainly get some use out of this.”

“My pleasure,” the smithy said with a thumbs-up. “But remember that you have to reset the spell after each use.” He pointed to the ring and the diviner noticed that the sigil had gone. “Think of it like bullets in a gun. You gotta reload.” The boy nodded in understanding as Rogo walked closer to Devol and studied him for a moment. “You were an interesting one to craft for, I gotta say, buddy.”

“I was?” Devol tried to peek inside the cloth. “What did you end up making?”

“Well, I first considered something long-range like Asla’s crossbow, but that didn’t seem practical given the size of your sword and all.” Rogo slid his hand into the folds of the cloth. “I’ve been watching you train. You can do some spiffy things with that majestic but it doesn’t look like you’ve mastered it quite yet.”

The young swordsman sighed and nodded. “I can do a few things but that is about right.”

Rogo patted him on the shoulder. “Buck up, buddy. I’m sure you’re at the cusp. But it made me think. You should still have a trick or two up your sleeve you can rely on for now so…” He pulled his hand out of the cloth to reveal a dagger in a small sheath. The grip was black with a cobalt pommel and a few odd etchings in a ring around it. “I fashioned this little beauty.”

He handed it to Devol, who unsheathed the dagger. The blade was made from truesilver, said to be one of the materials that could withstand magic and wound some rare beasts. It gleamed even in the dim light and displayed a clear reflection of his face. “It’s beautiful, Rogo,” he said, amazed. When he clenched his hand around the grip, some of his mana pooled into the cobalt. “What the—”

The smithy chuckled, took the blade in his fingers, and lifted it. He tossed it several meters away where it dug into a rock. The boy looked at him incredulously before he began to walk forward to retrieve it, but Rogo stopped him when he caught hold of his jacket.

“Ah, hold on a moment,” he said and wagged his finger. “You didn’t think I gave you a regular dagger, did you? This is a two-for-one. It’ll help with close-quarters battles, but try to reach out for it and connect with the mana in the cobalt.”

Devol extended his hand