Read Online Iron Elf - A Race Reborn (Book 2) by Klay Testamark - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Klay Testamark
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other way around. We need to. Our tailors and shoemakers know your sizes. There are craftsmen who have never seen the surface but could talk for hours about your fashions. You may say that my people make the best stuff, but our survival depends on elven customers.”
“We rely on you to produce quality stuff. Isn’t it an equitable arrangement?”
“Elves don’t kn
ow the first thing about dwarves, but every dwarf has to take classes. Does that sound equitable to you?”
We stopped at an inn toward dusk, when it got too dark to continue. We ate and went quickly to bed and an early start. The next day found us back in the ice yacht. I’d gotten extra cushions for Mina so she had a somewhat better view.
“You can fly, right?” she asked. “Why’d you need transport in the first place?”
“For the same reason I didn’t sprint the whole way. Flying is unbelievably tiring—it’s not something you risk without good tactical reason.”
“I’ve never heard of a female wizard. How good are you at spellcasting?”
“I’m on par with Angrod, though my magic is more internal. Does that make me a combat mage? Hard to say—I never went through a proper apprenticeship.”
“Your father is one of the top ten wizards in the world.”
“He’s why I have any magical training at all. Traditionally, only sons of nobility can learn serious magic.”
By the time a boy turned twenty-one he was expected to have learned to read, to reason, and to reckon. Naturally he had already picked up the hedge magic that every household used—spells to light fires and sweep floors. It was at this point that he was apprenticed to a master, who taught magic as it applied to a particular craft. An architect might show him how to build a house in a half hour, while an alchemist might show him how to make plastics out of pigshit. For the theoretical side of the apprentice’s education the master’s guild would host lectures and assign papers.
Finally the young man’s thoughts would turn to the arts of war. It was then that his House revealed its secrets—spells to split the air and scorch the earth, spells to outshine the sun and boil the sea.
“Every Noble House maintains its own school of war magic. Combat mages tend to share techniques by practicing them on each other. They’re encouraged to duel, actually.”
“I’ve always wondered how they determined who could be a gray or black mage,” Mina said. “Elven mages were rumoured to never wash their robes. The robes started out white, grew darker with each battle, and were finally dyed red with the blood of one’s enemies.”
I laughed. “That’s a myth! Can you imagine the smell? Mother would never have let Father into the house.”
“I always thought it was odd, using blood as a dye. You’d end up with brown robes. And I never heard of any brown mages. Do they work in the sewers?”
Apprentices in peacetime gained prestige through academic duelling. They battled among themselves, accumulating victories until the senior wizards had reached a consensus. Only then were the students allowed to wear ash robes.
“Combat mages are fiercely protective of their symbols. It’s not illegal for the uninitiated to wear gray robes, but they risk being challenged.”
Past the first rank, the duelling became serious. There were fewer rules and no nearby teachers to act as referees. Only an elf’s natural caution kept fights from turning lethal.
“Mages die anyway, because in battle it’s easy to forget that you have centuries to look forward to. In battle you care only about defeating your opponent and surviving the next few moments. Otherwise you lose.”
To earn the right to wear red robes, you had to prove yourself equal to a red mage. And all red mages duelled to the death.
“So your father—” Mina said.
“Killed a man, yes. They met over the sea, where nothing would burn. My
“We rely on you to produce quality stuff. Isn’t it an equitable arrangement?”
“Elves don’t kn
ow the first thing about dwarves, but every dwarf has to take classes. Does that sound equitable to you?”
We stopped at an inn toward dusk, when it got too dark to continue. We ate and went quickly to bed and an early start. The next day found us back in the ice yacht. I’d gotten extra cushions for Mina so she had a somewhat better view.
“You can fly, right?” she asked. “Why’d you need transport in the first place?”
“For the same reason I didn’t sprint the whole way. Flying is unbelievably tiring—it’s not something you risk without good tactical reason.”
“I’ve never heard of a female wizard. How good are you at spellcasting?”
“I’m on par with Angrod, though my magic is more internal. Does that make me a combat mage? Hard to say—I never went through a proper apprenticeship.”
“Your father is one of the top ten wizards in the world.”
“He’s why I have any magical training at all. Traditionally, only sons of nobility can learn serious magic.”
By the time a boy turned twenty-one he was expected to have learned to read, to reason, and to reckon. Naturally he had already picked up the hedge magic that every household used—spells to light fires and sweep floors. It was at this point that he was apprenticed to a master, who taught magic as it applied to a particular craft. An architect might show him how to build a house in a half hour, while an alchemist might show him how to make plastics out of pigshit. For the theoretical side of the apprentice’s education the master’s guild would host lectures and assign papers.
Finally the young man’s thoughts would turn to the arts of war. It was then that his House revealed its secrets—spells to split the air and scorch the earth, spells to outshine the sun and boil the sea.
“Every Noble House maintains its own school of war magic. Combat mages tend to share techniques by practicing them on each other. They’re encouraged to duel, actually.”
“I’ve always wondered how they determined who could be a gray or black mage,” Mina said. “Elven mages were rumoured to never wash their robes. The robes started out white, grew darker with each battle, and were finally dyed red with the blood of one’s enemies.”
I laughed. “That’s a myth! Can you imagine the smell? Mother would never have let Father into the house.”
“I always thought it was odd, using blood as a dye. You’d end up with brown robes. And I never heard of any brown mages. Do they work in the sewers?”
Apprentices in peacetime gained prestige through academic duelling. They battled among themselves, accumulating victories until the senior wizards had reached a consensus. Only then were the students allowed to wear ash robes.
“Combat mages are fiercely protective of their symbols. It’s not illegal for the uninitiated to wear gray robes, but they risk being challenged.”
Past the first rank, the duelling became serious. There were fewer rules and no nearby teachers to act as referees. Only an elf’s natural caution kept fights from turning lethal.
“Mages die anyway, because in battle it’s easy to forget that you have centuries to look forward to. In battle you care only about defeating your opponent and surviving the next few moments. Otherwise you lose.”
To earn the right to wear red robes, you had to prove yourself equal to a red mage. And all red mages duelled to the death.
“So your father—” Mina said.
“Killed a man, yes. They met over the sea, where nothing would burn. My
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