(Path of the Dragon Mage: Exiled) 22. Dual Wield (Patreon)

Roan's fertility horseshoe was exactly where Corvus  had left it—stacked to the side within a wooden box full of other old,  worn horseshoes. It blended in perfectly.

With periodic glances over his shoulder to make sure Solt was nowhere within sight, Corvus crouched to examine it.

Engrained dirt and rust pitted the surface. The shoe was strangely  twisted as well. He used a water bucket and a strong wire brush borrowed  from the horse tack to try to clean out the grit. To his dismay, some  of the metal chipped off if he scrubbed too hard. He was as careful as  he could be, but what was left of the runes was badly faded.

The best he could tell, there were three linked runes in total. Two  on the bottom and one on the top. The lines intersected with one another  in the same way he had seen scholars use diagrams for inter-lapping  ideas. In each of the inter-lapping spaces sat three different names.

This was a problem. Three different hedge-witches had stamped their  names on these runes. Overcoming one name had severely drained him. But  three?

"This is supposed to be a medium difficulty quest?" he asked, annoyed.

No, there had to be another method.

Charging the runes was not an option. What if he recreated them without the stamped names?

Out of the three runes, the least damaged was on the righthand side: a  simple circle inside the rune with long and short alternating points  fanning out from it to the outer edge. It looked like rays from the sun.  He counted the lines and saw that there were ten in total.

An old memory flickered in the back of his mind. The King's voice.

"Ten is the most sacred of the magical numbers…"

When Corvus had asked why that was, the King had brushed him off with an inadequate answer.

Perhaps he would finally learn today.

Corvus checked again to make sure Solt was still nowhere within  sight. Then, bending, he drew out the starburst rune in the dusty stable  soil. Once that was finished, he pressed his fingertips to the outer  edge and activated it.

The rune flashed blue, his mana dropped by fifty points, and a one-minute countdown appeared in the corner of his vision.

To his shock, tiny green sprouts poked out of the soil within the  circle of the rune. They grew and elongated, twisting as if seeking the  sky beyond the stable roof.

But within moments something went wrong. The seedlings seemed to  wilt, turning first yellow and sickly, and then brown. Before the timer  was halfway up, the seedlings were a few inches tall, and dead. The soil  around each was gray as if sucked of all life and vitality.

That gave Corvus his first clue as to what had gone wrong. His second came from his notifications.

Ten Elements of Life has been added to your Rune Dictionary.

Ten... elements? He only knew of the standard four Fire, Air, Water,  Earth for certain. Five, if one counted life, and not all scholars did.

There must have been grass seeds in the soil, he thought. Seeds  so tiny I did not notice them, but when I used the rune they were  sparked to germinate. However, they couldn't grow for long because the  soil is poor and there's no water.

This was a powerful rune with a fifty mana cost just for some grass seeds.

How much would sparking the life of a dragon egg cost?

Corvus actually twitched in place at that thought. As if his body  longed to leap up, run to his room, and find out despite the danger. He  did have the additional wells from Second Wind to boost him…

One look at the dead seedlings stopped him. He would not place any  runes on his dragon egg until he was certain it would be safe for it.  The image of a force-grown, deformed and suffering dragonet was  horrifying.

In an effort to shake his mind free of that thought, he smoothed out  the Ten Elements of Life Rune and drew a new one in its place: One of  Gwen's runes he had seen on her pendant.

This time when he activated the rune, the timer ran for five minutes  and the rune itself seemed to warp and disappear. When he held his hand  over it, an identical image of his hand flickered to the other side of  the rune, as if his hand had jumped the space between two points. He  wiggled his fingers, and watched his disembodied hand do the same. It  was an illusion.

Ding!

Bend Light has been added to your Rune Dictionary.

You have increased your Rune Charge skill.
New level: Beginner 7

Thrilled, he backed up a few more steps and started to draw out the  second of Gwen's pendant runes. This one, he did not remember as  clearly. There were wavy points, but he wasn't sure how they connected  to the outer circle of the rune. He made his best guess.

When he tried to activate it, however, nothing happened.

So, runes had to be precisely drawn to activate. There might be some  give and take, but he could not simply guess his way through it.

Another thought struck him and he activated his skills list to check.  Sure enough, while his Rune Charge had increased, his general Rune  Magic skill had not. Perhaps because it was higher it would be harder to  attain new levels? If he assumed that the additional levels of skill  followed the same pattern of his levels, then he would need more points  or XP to increase those.

That all meant his skills would be increasingly harder to master.

The theory made sense in a logical way that felt right. After all,  craft masters took a lifetime to perfect one craft at a high level. He  was still 'beginner' in all of his.

This was a good afternoon's work. For a few minutes, Corvus simply  looked through his growing dictionary of runes, enjoying the sight of  the two new ones he had added. Some nobles spoke of their collections of  fine animals or rare weapons. For the first time, he understood what  that was like.

Reading through his personal collection of learned runes, he felt a swelling sense of pride.

Sharp
Stay
Fish Whisper
Hook Fish
Ten Elements of Life
Bend Light

These are mine, he thought. It is the one thing no one can take away.

He thought again of the dragon egg. There were two more runes on the  horseshoe. Perhaps one of them would lead him to the correct path to  finally help it hatch.

Back in the depths of the stables, Merry-Rose gave an anxious whinny  and stomped her foot. Oh, right. He was supposed to be mucking out her  stall and caring for her.

Reluctantly, he hid the horseshoe again among the other used shoes.  Rune Magic was interesting, but it was not fair to the horse to go  unclean and hungry because he had found something more interesting to  occupy his time.
"I'm going to work fast," he warned the horse as he led her out of her stall and to the brushing post.

By the time he was done giving her a good brush-down, cleaned out her  stall, and refilled her feeding trough and water, his animal handling  had gained another point. He was now at beginner 3.

That was useful. Surely, he would need a high animal handling skill to successfully raise a dragon.

I wonder what that will be like, he thought.

The Kings and Queens of old had spoken fondly of their dragons as if  they were people. They had been their best friends, confidants, and  defenders. Their magic had also received a boost to an incredible degree  that made the might of King Orphus pale in comparison. It was said that  one of his great great great great (to the umpteenth degree)  grandmothers had cut off the top of an eastern mountain and threw it at  the forces who opposed her. Those enemies had not been the demons of  today, but another variety who were said to have fed off moonbeam magic.  Back then, today's demons had been at peace with the Kingdom.

What if hatching a dragon sparks elemental magic within me?

He'd had a lifetime of bitterness and disappointment while waiting  for his elemental talents to blossom, and knew better than to get his  hopes up. But it was hard.

After leading Merry-Rose back to her stall and scattering oats among  the straw as a special treat, Corvus snuck the horseshoe out one last  time.

He tried to draw out the second least-damaged rune in the dust.  However, he must have guessed the lines disastrously wrong because the  activated rune spit out a shower of stinging, blue sparks. He hastily  broke the circle, deactivating the rune. Luckily, the sparks had left no  burn marks on his skin or clothing.

Another lesson, hard learned. An unbalanced rune could fail spectacularly.

That was when Solt bellowed from the house: It was time for Corvus to help make the evening meal.

It was coming onto evening. Time had flown by without his noticing.

Quickly re-hiding the horseshoe, Corvus hurried to help with supper.

It wasn't until after the meal was made and eaten that he remembered  Gwen and Roan's promise to get him a pamphlet of their great aunt's  runes. No doubt they had left it for him near the lakeside beach. His  flagging stamina had taken a dive once he'd eaten his fill. After a  night of almost zero sleep, he could barely keep his eyes open. There  was no way he could check tonight—the runes could wait until tomorrow.

The next day followed the same pattern as the one before: Sword  training in the morning and secret rune studying through the afternoon.  Corvus tried several variations of the two degraded runes, but none  activated properly.

That night after Solt fell asleep, Corvus slipped out and returned to  the lake. The smell of rotting ratkin flesh was awful. The beach had  been disturbed with the evidence of many footprints—from the town  guards, no doubt.

Breathing through his mouth to avoid the smell, Corvus looked around.  There was no sign of Gwen, Roan, or the promised rune pamphlet.

Disappointed, he headed back to the estate before he remembered that  Gwen had the ability to sneak into the stables whenever she wanted by  using her pendant. Perhaps she had left it there?

Merry-Rose gave a little whicker of greeting as Corvus ducked into the stables. He went to the horse and patted her nose.

"Have any visitors while I was gone?"

If she had, she kept her secrets.

A thorough search of the stables revealed nothing, either. Had Gwen forgotten about her promise?

With a sigh, Corvus sat on the nearest hay bale. But almost as soon  as he sat, he was on his feet again. Why was he moping when he could use  this opportunity to sharpen his skills? He didn't dare practice Rune Magic at night—the blue flashing light could attract attention in the dark. But there was another thing he had been itching to try.

Solt kept the machetes they had used on the journey here near the  woodshed. Corvus picked up one in each hand and gazed down at the  rust-spotted blades as if they were made of gold.

The stable provided cover and had enough free room to move. Machetes  in hand, he returned there. Then, he set his feet and took up the first  sword position. He went through the entire drill. Count one through  fifteen. Many of the moves worked poorly or not at all with two “swords”  in hand. He felt awkward and ungainly, flailing around like an  unbalanced duck out of water.

When he reached the last move he stopped, recentered himself, and did it again. And again. And again.

He lost count of how many repetitions it took. Sweat stung his eyes  and his arms were on fire. His stamina dipped to under thirty percent  and seemed to be diving at a faster than usual rate.

That’s when it happened.

Ding!

You have learned a new skill: Dual Wield (general)

Corvus whooped aloud, then covered his mouth and glanced back to the  estate. No movement from within. He dropped his hand, grinning.

Not only had he acquired a combat skill much faster than usual, but it was a general skill. If it worked like his general Rune Magic skill then he would eventually have access to other sub-skills.

Royal Blood still hindered combat skills, but now he  had proven he could overcome his ambidextrous penalty. He got a +3%  bonus to any complex skill requiring the use of both hands for any skill  requiring two hands which should help offset the Royal Blood combat penalty.

Grinning widely, he set his feet and went through the drill once  more. The improvement was noticeable. His moves were hardly perfect, but  the machetes had more… synergy. As he stepped through the moves, he  felt like the swords were becoming one.

Ding!

You have learned a new skill: Wield Machete (dual wield).

“YES!”

* * *

It was the small hours of the night by the time he forced himself  back to bed. The moon had set, making it difficult to see even with his Night Vision. Neither Dual Wielding or Dual Machetes had advanced past beginner 1, but he felt like the general skill was close. His Royal Blood ensured that combat skills would always be, well, a grind.

It was still much faster than single-hand combat skills. He went to bed, satisfied.

The third day after the ratkin attack there was still no sign of Roan or Gwen.

He began to get worried. Had something happened to them? Solt had  told him the Horsemen weren’t trusted. Guards were meant to be  upstanding members of the Kingdom, but Lord Monger was a minor noble. He  may not have the influence of others above his station.

During sword training, Corvus mentally reviewed the path he  remembered coming from the Horseman camp. He had been low on Health and  Stamina and the memories of that night were fuzzy. Could he get there on  foot and return the same night, or should he take Merry-Rose?

Solt called for a halt barely an hour into training.

Bracing himself for a lecture, Corvus feared he’d been caught not paying attention.

Solt eyed him. “No more practice today. We’re in need of supplies from the village.”

Corvus nodded, relaxing. Solt had made a couple of supply runs  before. He returned late at night, clothes ruffled, stinking of alcohol,  with perhaps a sack full of supplies that would last them both a few  days until he had to leave again.

No matter. This would give Corvus the opportunity to slip to the  Horsemen’s camp in the daylight. He only needed to find the way—

“You are coming with me,” Solt said.