Read Online In Treachery Forged (The Law of Swords) by David A Tatum - Free Book Online
Authors: David A Tatum
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the other a perfectly straight line. Both scars, however, covered eyes which would never open again.
“I... I can’t see anything,” was all she said.
“What happened to you?” Maelgyn couldn’t help but ask. He was still astonished that the person who had been his guide all across Rocky Run couldn’t see. She had never shown any sign that she was blind... well, no obvious signs. Suddenly, the whirlwind of magic powder around her made sense: That was how she “saw.” And the “leash” around him wasn’t a leash at all. It was a lifeline.
“My father – my real father – was a failed mage and alchemist,” she began. Maelgyn nodded. Failed mages frequently went on to become alchemists. With few exceptions, mage training had to begin at birth or you could never quite grasp the technique needed to access magical abilities. Sometimes a person would be trained as a mage but discovered as they aged that they weren’t powerful enough to use magic effectively. The rate of failure was partly why parents were so reluctant to have their children learn magic.
In Svieda, only about one out of every ten students failed. Those numbers rose and fell depending on family background, where one lived, how they were instructed, and several similar factors, and Svieda had an atypically high success rate. There were only two fields of magic use open to a failed mage: Teachers (failed mages frequently gave the best magical instruction as they would have tried everything to learn magic, themselves) and alchemists (who, unlike the chemists who studied medicines and poisons, typically studied elemental change and magically reactive substances). Alchemy really was the ideal career for a failed mage, who might still have enough magical strength for alchemy, even if they couldn’t use magic for other practical applications.
“Go on,” He said softly, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder.
Euleilla spoke again, haltingly at first, and then the words came faster and faster. After the long, silent journey this far, the sudden avalanche of words was all the more striking. “He was able to teach me the basics of magic. I proved to be quite talented at it, so he arranged for me to apprentice under a mage named Cawnpore. Cawnpore was a harsh but effective teacher, who also happened to be a rather violent drunkard. Still, while my father was alive, he made sure he was sober around me – my father had earned his respect, somehow, and so he did nothing which might anger him.
“My father was working on developing a potion for a mining company in Sycanth – something which would dissolve quartz but leave gold unharmed. Unfortunately, a rival company wanted to stop him. At first they tried hiring away my father, but he refused. Then they tried intimidating him. We left town, moving from place to place all the way across Svieda, until we finally settled in Rocky Run. I was eight years old, I think, and it wasn’t until much later I understood what was going on.
“My father kept working on his research while in hiding. He hoped that we would be able to live our normal lives again if he could just finish that potion. Any gain for the mining companies at his death would then be moot. And finish it he did. He knew it was risky, but he sent for his old friend, and my old teacher, Cawnpore – he wanted someone to guard him when we returned to our old home and sold the new formula. This may have been how they found out where we were, since before Cawnpore arrived we were attacked by an assassin. My father tried to fight him off, but while my father killed the assassin the damage had been done. He had been poisoned, and died less than a week later. What happened to me, though, was much worse in his eyes.”
She pointed to her own eye – the one with the jagged scar. “That was where I got this. One of my father’s chemicals exploded, sending a wooden splinter right into my eye. A surgeon managed to remove the splinter with very little
“I... I can’t see anything,” was all she said.
“What happened to you?” Maelgyn couldn’t help but ask. He was still astonished that the person who had been his guide all across Rocky Run couldn’t see. She had never shown any sign that she was blind... well, no obvious signs. Suddenly, the whirlwind of magic powder around her made sense: That was how she “saw.” And the “leash” around him wasn’t a leash at all. It was a lifeline.
“My father – my real father – was a failed mage and alchemist,” she began. Maelgyn nodded. Failed mages frequently went on to become alchemists. With few exceptions, mage training had to begin at birth or you could never quite grasp the technique needed to access magical abilities. Sometimes a person would be trained as a mage but discovered as they aged that they weren’t powerful enough to use magic effectively. The rate of failure was partly why parents were so reluctant to have their children learn magic.
In Svieda, only about one out of every ten students failed. Those numbers rose and fell depending on family background, where one lived, how they were instructed, and several similar factors, and Svieda had an atypically high success rate. There were only two fields of magic use open to a failed mage: Teachers (failed mages frequently gave the best magical instruction as they would have tried everything to learn magic, themselves) and alchemists (who, unlike the chemists who studied medicines and poisons, typically studied elemental change and magically reactive substances). Alchemy really was the ideal career for a failed mage, who might still have enough magical strength for alchemy, even if they couldn’t use magic for other practical applications.
“Go on,” He said softly, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder.
Euleilla spoke again, haltingly at first, and then the words came faster and faster. After the long, silent journey this far, the sudden avalanche of words was all the more striking. “He was able to teach me the basics of magic. I proved to be quite talented at it, so he arranged for me to apprentice under a mage named Cawnpore. Cawnpore was a harsh but effective teacher, who also happened to be a rather violent drunkard. Still, while my father was alive, he made sure he was sober around me – my father had earned his respect, somehow, and so he did nothing which might anger him.
“My father was working on developing a potion for a mining company in Sycanth – something which would dissolve quartz but leave gold unharmed. Unfortunately, a rival company wanted to stop him. At first they tried hiring away my father, but he refused. Then they tried intimidating him. We left town, moving from place to place all the way across Svieda, until we finally settled in Rocky Run. I was eight years old, I think, and it wasn’t until much later I understood what was going on.
“My father kept working on his research while in hiding. He hoped that we would be able to live our normal lives again if he could just finish that potion. Any gain for the mining companies at his death would then be moot. And finish it he did. He knew it was risky, but he sent for his old friend, and my old teacher, Cawnpore – he wanted someone to guard him when we returned to our old home and sold the new formula. This may have been how they found out where we were, since before Cawnpore arrived we were attacked by an assassin. My father tried to fight him off, but while my father killed the assassin the damage had been done. He had been poisoned, and died less than a week later. What happened to me, though, was much worse in his eyes.”
She pointed to her own eye – the one with the jagged scar. “That was where I got this. One of my father’s chemicals exploded, sending a wooden splinter right into my eye. A surgeon managed to remove the splinter with very little
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