The Sorcery Code (The Sorcery Code #1)(9)
But he hadn’t, focusing instead only on the idea that an intelligent object created in the Spell Realm could be used by anyone, regardless of their aptitude for sorcery. An object like that—particularly if made in large quantities—would’ve been a game changer, forever altering the class dynamics in their society and completing the process started by the Enlightenment.
Gala was not the object he’d meant to create, but it didn’t matter. She was something else—something even more wonderful.
His brother Louie would’ve been proud, Blaise thought, reaching for his journal.
Chapter 5: Augusta
The sun was beginning to set, and Barson issued the order to stop for the night. Augusta gladly dismounted and stretched, her body aching from unaccustomed exercise. She would have to do a healing spell on herself later; otherwise, she might be sore tomorrow.
“Dinnertime for your men?” she asked, following Barson toward a tent that the soldiers were already setting up for him.
“First practice, then dinner,” he said, courteously lifting the tent flap for her. “You can rest if you’d like. I should be with you in an hour or so.”
“Rest in a tent while your boys play with swords?” Augusta lifted her eyebrows at him. “You’re joking, right? I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”
He grinned at her. “Then come and watch.”
They walked together to a small clearing where most of the other guards were gathered. As they approached, Barson’s men respectfully stepped aside, clearing the way for them.
“Why don’t you get on your chaise?” Barson suggested, turning toward her. “It will provide you with a good view and keep you safely out of the way.”
Augusta smiled, charmed by his concern for her. “Sure, let me get it.” Although she’d ridden here on the horse, she’d had the chaise follow them at some distance, just in case it was needed.
Pulling out her Interpreter Stone—a shimmering black rock that resembled a large piece of polished coal with a slot in the middle—Augusta loaded it with a pre-written spell for summoning her chaise and waited. Two minutes later, the chaise arrived, landing softly on the grass. Deep red in color, it was shaped like the piece of furniture it had been named after. However, it was made of a special crystalline material that looked like glass but was warm and soft to the touch, like a plush, padded armchair. Augusta had invented this particular magical object fairly recently, and it had caught on among the sorcerer community immediately. It looked quite incongruous here, among all the trees, and Augusta almost laughed at the looks on the men’s faces as they stared at it.
Climbing onto the chaise, Augusta did a quick verbal spell to get it hovering in the air a little to the right above the clearing. Then, comfortably tucking her feet underneath herself, she leaned on one of the sides and prepared to watch the spectacle that was about to unfold.
*
Archery practice was first.
Augusta watched in fascination as one man let loose a strange-looking arrow. Large and covered with extra feathers, it appeared to be flying a little slower than usual, making it easier to see mid-flight.
Before she could wonder about its purpose, she saw the feathery arrow get hit by another arrow—an ordinary one this time. Apparently, the large arrow was the target—a target that some soldier had managed to hit with unbelievable accuracy.
Looking down on the ground, she saw that the men were divided into pairs, with one guard sending up those arrows and his partner shooting them down. Every time the target was reached, there would be cheers from the other soldiers. If Augusta hadn’t seen this herself, she wouldn’t have believed it was possible to perform this feat even once—yet every single one of Barson’s men managed to do this. The mathematics involved were staggering, and Augusta marveled at the ability of the human mind to do something so complicated without any conscious calculations.
Finally, it was Barson’s turn. Looking up, he gave her a wink, then motioned to his soldiers. To Augusta’s shock, not one, but two men sent up the special feathery arrows—and her lover’s arrow pierced them both in one shot. The other soldiers cheered, but not any louder than for any of the others. Apparently, it wasn’t the first time their Captain had done something so impossible.
After archery, the guards sparred with swords. Augusta watched with bated breath as steel clashed against steel, making her flinch every time someone narrowly avoided an injury. Even though this was only practice, the swords used by the men were quite real—and potentially quite deadly.
All of the soldiers appeared to be highly skilled, however, and nobody was getting hurt, causing Augusta to relax a little. Observing the fighters, she couldn’t help but take pleasure in the sight of their strong, fit bodies twisting and turning as they engaged in a kind of macabre dance. There was beauty to war, she thought, watching as they thrust and parried with incredible grace.
Barson was walking around the clearing, giving pointers and instructions to his soldiers. She wondered if he would fight as well—and if so, whether he would be as skilled with the sword as he was with the arrow.
As though in answer to her unspoken question, Barson walked to the middle of the clearing, stopping the fight between the men who were there. “You four,” he said, pointing at them, “I need some warm-up.”