Battle Mage - Dara

This is the first in a spin-off series from the Thirst for Power stories following Artesia as she sets out into the world of Kroth as one of John's champions. In particular, she's looking to enhance her abilities as well as find some worthwhile followers.

Nobody in the story is (or is inferred from) a real person. All characters are 18 or older as well. Additionally, the main character is bi-species and is a female with something extra between her legs. If you find that disagreeable, read no further.

Murad wore clothes unlike anything Artesia had seen in Myra. His rich blue silk shirt left most of his chest bare, exposing sun bronzed olive skin free of any hair. He had it belted at his waist but the belt was free of any pouches or weapons. Below the belt he wore pants that were gathered just below his knees, allowing the fabric to fall loosely and shift as he moved. He wore sandals that left most of his feet bare save where the straps crossed them and tied at his ankles. Even his toes were hairless, the same as his head.

Artesia stepped out of the doorway and walked down onto the polished stone floor of the open-air courtyard to stand next to the other applicants to Murad's school. The other three glanced her way and did a double take when they saw her. Artesia kept her face calm and her eyes on Master Murad.

He began to pace back and forth in front of them and spoke to the would-be students. "I am the Master Spellsword of Shazamir and you are here to learn to be battlemages.

"Dara, you have trained hard for many years to learn the dance of battle, yet there is more to the dance than memorizing the steps. You must learn to create the dance and understand the magic of it."

Artesia had studied her peers at length. Dara was lean and nimble. Her hand rested at her hip and Artesia had no doubt the olive skinned woman was wondering what Artesia was doing there. Artesia also knew Dara favored a curved blade, in particular a saber. She looked in perfect shape in her fitted reinforced leathers. The only thing Artesia could find fault with about the woman was her long chocolate colored hair. She had it braided and gathered close, but a single mistake and it could become a liability in a fight.

"Kameel, 2nd son of Lord Jameer and already a member of the elite battlemage cadre. Yet you are eager to earn the right to progress beyond being a novice. Do you possess the discipline and the capacity to be more than you are? Can you outwit, outmaneuver, and outfight your lesser?"

Kameel was a dandy. Artesia recognized his type the moment she saw him. Rings in his ears, the left side of his nose, and numerous tattoos of horses, tigers, birds, and more decorated his body. Foppish or not, since he was here and had already become a battlemage it meant he'd passed the initial challenges and was a dangerous fighter and had some skill with magic.

"Aamara, journeyman battlemage. I'm glad to see you've returned after journeying the world a bit and putting your skills to use. We shall see if you're study abroad has gifted you with what you need to progress to the level of expert."

Artesia forced herself not to glance at Aamara. Aamara had the darkest skin of anyone she'd ever seen. She wasn't skinny and slippery, like Dara, she had a physical presence to her. She liked large weapons too. Halberds, Spears, or heavier swords that required strength and experience to wield with one hand were reported to be her weapons of choice.

"And Artesia. You are a stranger to me, but your Master is not. To be considered for this most elite school of training -- to be a battlemage -- is not something given lightly. My students must study the fighting arts for some years and prove themselves before they are invited here. As a favor to your Master, you are given this one, single chance to prove yourself worthy. I can see in their faces, My Lady, that your peers have already fantasized a thousand ways to see to it that you fail."

Artesia's lip twitched in a smile. She didn't feel the confidence she portrayed, but if her life had taught her anything it was that appearance mattered. "Each of them will fail, Master Murad," Artesia spoke clearly. "But together, we shall succeed."

Murad stopped in front of her and looked her up and down. "You're sturdy for an elf. To be honest, I've never met a sand elf before. Is this common? Are all your people all broad shouldered and strong?"

"Half elf," she corrected him. "It is uncommon among my kind, but not unheard of."

He grunted and resumed pacing. "There are no rules for this first challenge. No guarantee that the first person struck fails. I, and I alone, judge talent and worthiness. Each of you proceed to a carving in the stone, one to each. When you hear the thunder, find a weapon and use it. The first trial begins."

Artesia turned and made her way to the griffin, in honor of Lord John. She turned to face the others and saw Kameel had taken a horse and he refused to look Artesia in the eyes. Aamara stood upon a panther and kept her eyes emotionless and moving about her opponents. Dara glared at Artesia while her boots rested on a dragon.

Master Murad picked up a throwing axe from a table and drew his hand back. He looked to each of the combatants and then his arm snapped forward. The axe turned end over end once, blurring as it traveled faster and faster through the air. It's movements became a flash of light that leapt even faster to strike a mannequin at the other side of the courtyard. A crack of thunder slapped them in the face along with a rustle of wind.

The battle was on.

Artesia had already readied the simple combat spells she'd learned as Lord John's apprentice. He wasn't much of a combat wizard though, so her selection had been limited. She could fight though, and she'd be ready to fight against the best he could throw at her. A few quick steps to a pillar that boasted a selection of weapons hanging from pegs gave her a choice. She grabbed a sturdy and long sword off it and felt it's balance as she swung it back and forth.

It was nothing compared to her blade, but she wielded a work of art and wonder. Lord John had gifted her Cirithallion, the very sword that had housed the soul of Kallanox until they'd released it. It no longer had a spiteful will of its own but it remained imbued with magic that made it a magnificent weapon.

Cirithallion was in her room though, not here with her. She needed to do better to remember that and stay focused on what she had. Distractions like that against opponents like these would cost her dearly.

Aamara made a move to come for Artesia now that she'd claimed a vicious looking pole arm but then caught sight of Kameel seeking to flank her. She paused and turned, keeping them both in her eyes. Dara side stepped away from the other two, a scimitar in her hand, and moved with speed and grace to put her out of range of any threat from Kameel and Aamara. More importantly, she approached Artesia with a fire in her eyes.

Artesia watched her come and let a smile twist her lips up. The fight was already over, Dara just didn't realize Artesia had already won. That battle had taken place weeks before...

* * * *

"They'll do if you're hungry, but they're a day from rotting," Artesia said to the woman trying to select a decent mango off the merchant's cart.

The woman turned, her long braids swinging out slightly from her body. "Let me guess, you've better ones at your cart?"

Artesia laughed. "No, I'm no merchant. Just looking for something to make a meal of. I'm craving something sweet but fruit doesn't last long in this heat."

The woman took Artesia in while she talked, noting the bundle over her shoulder that looked like a wrapped sword first and then noticed her tight pants and sweat-dampened shirt. Her sandy blond hair fell in loose curls around her ears but didn't reach her shoulders.

"I meant no offense," Artesia added as the woman stared at her.

"Oh, no, I did not mean to offend. I... You don't live here, do you?"

"I'm traveling," Artesia admitted. "Is it that obvious? My accent?"

"You do sound different," she said. "Where are you from, to be so fair skinned?"

"The west. Far to the west."

"Oh, me too. Perhaps not as far though."

Artesia laughed. "No, not so far. I was born near the coast."

"The coast? But... do you mean on the other side of the Western Divide!"

Artesia nodded. "Yes. My father had no use for me and my mother... well.. I decided to see the world and make a life for myself."

She looked up at the bundle over her shoulder but under her pack. "Is that a sword?"

"It is."

"So you're a mercenary?"

"I wouldn't say that. I do what I can to help people out and get by. Doesn't pay very well though. I'd try my hand at being a mercenary but in my experience that's usually just another name for a bandit."

She laughed. "You're not wrong. About the bandits or about the fruit."

Artesia sighed. "Do you know a better stall? Or maybe another market? I'd kill for a drink that isn't boiling hot too."

"I might... but I promised my family I wouldn't be scammed by strangers."

"Oh, well, I can pay if that's what has you worried."

She smiled. "I wasn't, but you're still a stranger."

"Oh, I see. Well, can I fix that or am I fucked because I'm a foreigner?"

The woman's eyes widened and she laughed at Artesia's curse. "I was going to say why don't you tell me your name. Mine is Dara."

"Oh, I can do that. I'm Artesia."

"Artesia, that's a pretty name," Dara said. "It suits you."

"That's sweet, thank you," Artesia said. "Does this mean we're not strangers anymore?"

"Definitely not," Dara agreed. She grinned and said, "Come on, I'll show you a better place."

Artesia let Dara lead her through the market and then out of it until they arrived at an open-air restaurant with cloth blankets strung from line to line overhead blocking the sun. A railing surrounded the half dozen tables and blocked access to the enclosed building that housed kitchen.

"What sort of tavern is this?" Artesia asked. "I've never seen one like it."

"Not a tavern, this is a café. They have both hot and cool drinks, if you believe it, as well as some food."

"Cool drinks? Here? How... is it magic?"

Dara laughed and said, "No, not magic. They have a cold box they stock with ice."

"Ice... here? How do they get ice? There aren't any mountains high enough."

"The Havara mountains are a few days away, but even though don't have ice. I'm not sure where it comes from, now that you ask," Dara said.

Artesia hesitated. "Chilled drinks... it must cost a fortune to eat here."

"I thought you could pay?" Dara teased.

"Well, I thought so too, but this... this might be too much. I still have to find a place to stay while I'm here."

"Let's sit and see," Dara said.

"Dara..."

"Please?" Dara said.

Artesia sighed and let her pull her through the gate and over to a table.

"Oh my, getting out of that sun is a blessing from the saints," Artesia said.

Dara leaned forward. "I know, but tell me, how are you not red and blistered?"

Artesia hesitated and then leaned forward. "I'll tell you, but it might make me a stranger again."

"What? That's not possible!"

"Are you sure?"

Dara nodded. "Yes, stop stalling and tell me!"

Artesia reached up and pulled her hair back on the side of her head to reveal her slightly elongated and pointed ear.

Dara gasped. "Are you... wait, what are you?"

"I'm part elven," Artesia said. "Sand elf. They don't get sunburns. Or tans, for that matter. I get a little color from my human father."

"Sweet saints! You... you really have elven blood? But... that's so rare, I didn't even think it was real!"

"It is," Artesia said. "More common with my mother's people than most elves though, from what I hear."

"Wow... just... wow!"

"Almost as exciting as a chilled drink," Artesia said with a wink.

"Ooh, right!" Dara said and turned in time to see a barmaid headed her way. She wore colorful swishing skirts that let air cool her legs and a matching light shirt that teased a bit of skin and kept the woman from overheating or getting sweaty.

"Even the barmaids are dressed different here," Artesia noticed.

Dara turned back. "Not barmaids, serving girl or servant."

"I'll drink to that," Artesia said.

"Lady Dara, welcome back," the serving girl greeted her. "What can I get for you?"

"Chilled wine for both of us, something sweet?" Dara said.

"Of course, I'll have it right out," the servant said and turned away.

"Lady?" Artesia asked. "Are you--Did I... Oh shit! I mean--damn it, I didn't mean to say that. I..."

Dara waved her off while her cheeks reddened. "Please, Artesia, relax. I'm not anyone special. My father is a lord in Gafford, on the northern shores of the Sea of Broken Shards. I'm his third daughter and the fifth born of his children."

"Fifth born, how many are there?"

"At least thirteen, between his four wives," Dara explained. "My mother is his second wife, so... I'm truly nobody special."

Artesia hesitated and then blushed a little as she said, "You seem special to me. Talking to me and showing me the kindness you have, I mean."

Dara stared at her. "Is that all you mean?"

Artesia nibbled her lip to buy her time. She was still learning the powers that Lord John had gifted her. Powers that let her sense out her targets and urge them to feel and act a certain way toward her. She saw them as black wisps of odorless smoke that obeyed her commands. They reached out in ethereal tendrils and hovered just over Dara's skin, waiting to be given leave to have their way with her. It was tempting... but there was something about Dara. Something that made Artesia think she didn't need the powers. "I mean... well... I'm not sure, I guess. I... this is awkward."

Dara leaned forward and placed her hand on Artesia's. Artesia gasped at the woman's forward behavior, but she twisted her hand under so their palms where touching and then could wrap their fingers around each other's hand, which they instantly did.

"I'm a lonely woman, Artesia," Dara said. "I grew up in a household full of servants, brother, sisters, and even parents since my father has four wives."

Artesia smiled. "Sound busy."

"Yes, but I've always been alone," Dara explained. "I wasn't like them. Fashion was a task, not a desire. Learning etiquette and how to fetch a proper husband was not something I had any interest or desire in. I liked to be active. To play with my brothers, until we reached an age where it was improper. Then I had to learn to play with myself."

Artesia raised an eyebrow and Dara caught it. She gasped and giggled, then gave Artesia's hand a squeeze. "That's not what I meant! But... well, you know."

"I do know," Artesia said and squeezed back.

"My brothers will inherit title and lands, my sisters will secure alliances and raise children. By luck of birth, my father and mother barely put up a fuss when I said I wanted to study to be a battlemage. My mother even championed me to my father, insisting that I could bring great pride and honor to his house if I succeeded."

"A battlemage?" Artesia asked. "You mean... are you..."

"Not yet, I go through the trials soon. They're scheduled to commence in a few weeks. I have trained for years under Master Murad learning to fight though. No magic yet, other than some theory and calming practices."

"So you're a warrior too," Artesia said. "That's... yes, that explains your hand."

Dara's eyes went to their joined hands. "My hand?"

Artesia slipped her hand free but made sure Dara's was palm up on the table. She traced creases in her skin gently and prodded at the callouses before she held her hand up. "The hands of a warrior. We have calluses and scars. They tell a story, but only you know the details. That's mysterious."

The serving woman arrived with two silver goblets of wine. Dara clamped her lips shut and jerked back into her seat. She cleared her throat but there was no hiding the warm flush to her cheeks that spread down her neck.

"Milady, would you like to hear what we have for dinner?"

Dara nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

"What do you have that's light?" Artesia asked. "A plate of fruits, cheese, and meats maybe?"

"Oh, that sounds really good," Dara said and then blushed even harder. She turned to the servant and nodded. "Yes, bring that! If you have it, that is."

The serving woman's eyes practically danced with restrained laughter. "I can do that, Miladies."

Dara turned a quick eye on Artesia and silenced any response she might have had with her gaze. Artesia gave her a tiny nod of her head and let the servant leave them alone again.

"You..." Dara said and trailed off. She shook her head but was smiling the entire time.

"Yes, My Lady?" Artesia asked with mock innocence.

"Oh stop it! Don't let my accident of birth get in the way."

"Get in the way of what?"

"Of... of this!" Dara said and pointed back and forth at the two of them.

Artesia raised her eyebrow again.

"I've had more fun since I met you than I've had... well, ever. Outside of the fighting school, at least."

"Thank the saints," Artesia breathed.

"Why?"

"I was worried that it was just me... that there was something wrong with me."

Dara laughed. "If there is, we're both wrong. But we can be wrong together."

"Mmm," Artesia said with a warm smile. "I like the sound of that."

Dara's eyes twinkled. She glanced at Artesia's hands again and slid her own a few inches on the table before she stopped herself.

"What kind of weapon do you favor?" Artesia asked.

Dara jerked and looked up into Artesia's beautiful green eyes. "I prefer the saber, but I like scimitars too. I can use a straight blade, but I like the curve."

"I can see the appeal of nice curves," Artesia said.

Dara's eyes widened.

"Those types of blades suit you, I bet. I've been watching you. You're very careful with your movements. Very precise and elegant."

"Elegant?" Dara laughed. "Be careful or I'm going to think you're trying to woo me."

"Would that be so terrible?" Artesia asked and then pushed on without letting Dara answer. "Did you have to take dance lessons as a child? If you did, I bet you were amazing."

"I did take dance!" Dara gushed. "And yes, I was pretty good at it. The best of all my sisters."

"Well good, I've found the best one of you then. I don't need to look any further!"

Dara laughed again.

The servant showed up with a platter filled with cuts of cured meats, sliced fruit, and a few different types of cheeses. She put it on the table between them and stepped back, waiting. Dara finally looked at her and thanked her.

"I can't believe this," Artesia said.

"You've never seen food like this before?"

Artesia smiled at her and picked up her goblet. She gasped at the cool silver in her hands. "No--I mean yes--what I can't believe is that for as thirsty as I am, I haven't even picked this up yet. Even the metal is cold!"

"Yes, they keep their chilled cups in the same coldbox."

Artesia raised the goblet to her lips and sipped at the white wine. It was sweet and a little dry, but mostly it was cold and refreshing. She took a second, larger drink and groaned as they cool liquid raced down her throat and chilled her chest. A third gulp followed.

Dara laughed openly at her and sipped her own wine.

"So good," Artesia gasped and then she winced as something pinched in her head. "Ahh, there's something wrong! Why does my head hurt?"

Dara laughed harder and had to set her wine down to keep from spilling it. She reached over and grabbed Artesia's hand and squeezed it. "You drank too fast."

"Ugh," Artesia groaned. "I've drank faster than that before."

"Was it as cold while you were as hot?"