Author's notes:

Hello and thank you for taking your time to read through my story. This is the first time I seriously try to write one of my stories, so any kind of feedback, good and bad alike, is highly appreciated. English is not my first language, but I hope my writing is clean (enough). But please, I personally hate grammatical errors, so if you spot any (WHEN you spot any!), please notify me to fix them.

Thank you again, and I hope you enjoy.

Chapter VII: Senthas' little secret

Martyn couldn't wipe the grin off his face as he felt the familiar heat seeping through his light, white robe.

"If I knew you would be this happy, I would have found you a job earlier." Kat nudged him from the side.

Martyn looked at the young woman beside him. She was trully one of the few people whom he liked in this place so far. And what wasn't to like? She was the one that gave him the good news that he would be accepted as a support apprentice. She was the one who, through her persistance to come almost every day it his room, taught him how things worked around the academy. She was the one that convinced him to start walking, and even enjoy a bit, the open spaces around his tiny room. She was the one that removed the ugly stares towards him during their walks, only to have them redirected towards her, as they wondered what was she doing talking to him. And now, she was the one that brought him to his mind's safe haven, the smithy.

But still, compared to how he had passed this last month that he had been awakened, as he took a deep breath of the stuffy, heavy atmosphere, he could help but feel like howling his lungs out. And even though he knew that she was part of the reason that he was standing here at the moment, he couldn't feel but look at her like she was a stranger, someone who couldn't really understand what was going on inside him.

"Heh, wouldn't expect a southern mage to understand. Here I can be free."

Kat's mind raced. "He looks different. His eyes shine like a wild beast's. Was it a mistake to bring him here? But why..."

Instead, she smiled as always, as she tilted her head towards him. "Why do you say that? It isn't like you were locked in or something..."

He couldn't take his eyes off the raging flame burning in the furnace in front of him as he answered.

"Kids in our village, in all villages where I come from, are trained differently than you people. From the moment we leave our home for the first time to go and learn stuff from the Elder, we are expected, hell! we are encouraged, to fight off our differences. We hone our instincts by beating each other silly, by screaming, by fighting, by clawing our way to adulthood. We learn how to fight and how to hunt, and we train, like your warriors here, but a hundred times more brutally. Most shamans think that by embracing our anger, by being constantly mad with rage, those who are able to enter a battle trance, will learn how to do so earlier. And so, we are kept constantly angry, until our ragers start awaken one by one."

He took a breath as he continued, his gaze never leaving the fire in front of him.

"And now imagine Kat... After the first five years of your social life being like this, imagine, a stranger coming and telling you that you cannot use your gift, that you cannot cast any magic, if you aren't calm, if you aren't as devoid of emotion as a human could possibly be. So... Master thought of a way to train me. He forbid me to show any emotion, at any time whatsoever, regardless if I was trying to cast something or not. He thought that in order to master my emotions to a degree that I could shut them down at will in order to access my mana, the easiest way would be to learn how to shut them out completely. But I still had to go to the Elder. I still had to get beaten up, and beat up, the other children on our scuffles. I still had to learn how to hunt and fight, and I still had to go to the wakes when fellow hunters died out in the forests. And every time I would falter, every time I would get angry, or sad, or anything, Master would... he was harsh."

He turned his head towards her, and looked her straight into her eyes, as he felt his own getting watery. "I was forbidden to grieve even at my own parents' funeral pyre Kat... In order not to lose my mind, my Master allowed me to, commanded me, to let it all out on the smithy. To pummel my rage on the hot metal, to quench my tears as the steel cooled. The smithy was my haven, the only place, where when I worked, I was trully free to express any emotion."

His eyes moved away from hers, once more focusing on the familiar sights all around him.

"It's not any more different here. I woke up in a strange place, surrounded by monster mages, by southerners who, according to our Elder, only want us dead. I learned that my village was burned to the ground by demons. My master gave his life to protect us. Everyone I'd ever known was dead. And most people would look at me with pure hatred in their eyes. Did you really thought that I've felt nothing? That I didn't want to scream in fear? That I didn't want to weep in tears for my lost ones? That I didn't want to pummel the arrogant children to the ground in rage? But the only thing I had left from my Master was his memory. And I decided to honor that. And so, I kept my promise to kill my emotions, in all times... except here. Here, I'm free."

The words flew easily out of him. In his haven he felt like nothing could touch him, and as he spoke, as Kat watched the tears flow out of the corners of his eyes, he felt... lighter, like a huge burden was lifted from someplace inside him.

"Now, forgive me Kat, but I really need to temper some steel in order to..."

"You are out of your mind boy if you think I'll let you even near a hammer and an anvil before I judge you competent enough. Especially after your little declaration that this is some sort of a venting playground for you and not a goddamnned work place."

The leather clad, old smith said as he swept the sweat out of his forehead with the back of his hand, smearing a black stain all over his face. He slowly limped towards the pair, until he was right next to Martyn. Even though the barbarian was more than a head taller, the smith's eyes didn't leave Martyn's even for a second. Raising up his finger towards him he continued.

"Listen up boy. I don't know the village you came from, nor do I know what you did there. But here, inside this smithy, I'm your master. No. Here I'm your God. Here, you carry the water, and you work the bellows, and you only dream of sometime grasping the hammer, maybe for some horseshoes and such. Because if anything were to happen to one of the Countess' shinny new toys, she would have my head on a pike. Heh... steel he says."

Grinning Martyn bowed his head politely. "Of course Master. We still have another month till the academy officially opens for the year either way. I'm pretty sure I'll be able to make you trust me with your finest swords and armors by then. Now... do you have a spare leather apron? I don't think I'll be able to work in... this thing." He concluded pointing at his spotless new robe.

The smith spend a good minute staring Martyn hard in the eyes before turning towards Kat. Smilling, he waved towards her.

"Shoo, shoo, little Lady. I have a new apprentice to break."

Still stunned from Martyn's previous speech, she turned and walked towards her home.

Sure, she had never trusted Martyn. The aloof foreigner that conveniantly came to the academy and bypassed the normal procedures. He always seemed to abosrb everything around him, everything she told him, usually replying with simple yes's and no's. But, even though he had the physique to snap the neck of a mage easily, she had never feared him. She knew she could overpower him easily.

But this new Martyn was different. Like a wild animal he felt dangerous, and yet he also felt more... real. She never expected anyone around here to bare their soul so easily, and it had taken her by surprise. Yes, his story was a sad one, but the way his eyes shone as he was speaking, the way they had reflected the light of the fire, the way that his tears marred his face... he wasn't a broken man. No. He was someone who, really, had just broken free of his chains and was weeping in relief.

She wasn't so sure that she could overpower him now. Now, he appeared as if he was trully dangerous. But despite that, now, she couldn't resist feeling more secure by him.

*

Kat was racing down the big hallway in the administration building carrying a big, wrapped in clothes, package on her hands. The knights on duty were unsure how to react as she slammed open the heavy double doors to her father's office.

As the Archmage saw his panting daughter bursting in, he was already on his feet rushing towards her.

"Kathlyn, what..."

"Father" She said in between her breath. "We need to talk in private."

As the knights exited the office, Kathlyn unwrapped the package on her hands, revealing two swords inside.

"Please, examine those two, I think I'm going insane." She pleaded, pushing them on her father's lap.

With a grivious tone, her father stared down towards her.

"Really now Kathlyn? My heart jumped when I saw you running! Can't this wait until we get home? I have a really busy day today."

Kathlyn stood up as straight as she could.

"No. It really cannot."

"Well, from a quick glance, their size and the stupid mark, show that they were both made by that barbarian of yours."

He raised his eyes towards his daughter.

"You are spending an awful lot of time lately with him."

"I had to find out why and what his Master taught him father. Now please look at the swords seriously."

"Well, not much to tell. One is obviously smithed, you can tell from the faint marks of the hammer where it landed last, and from its rougher, overall, appearance. Regardless that, it's a nice sword. The other is a plain transmuted sword like the first one you brought me. Both have a sharpening enchantment on them. His symbol work is top notch as always, and his mana pathetic as always."

"But are they the same father?"

"Eh... from what I can tell, more or less yes."

"Test them." She said as she crossed her arms across her chest.

"Really Kathlyn. If you stopped my work for..."

His sentance was cut in middle as he saw one of the blades passing a whole palm deeper into the stone were he stabbed the floor.

He slowly raised both blades, and putting all the strength he could muster, pierced the floor once more. One of them slightly penetrated the hard, enchanted stone, while the second one reached, once more, a whole palm inside, effortlessly piercing through.

He raised the swords again, and, with eyes glowing white, started to carefully scan the enchantments.

"What's the meaning of this?" He raised his head towards his daughter. "That's as strong as an adept can get. But the mana inside it, despite the symbols... it's impossible."

With a smug smile, Kathlyn raised her hand and pointed towards her father.

"No. It just means that *you* were wrong. Transmuted and crafted items *do* indeed differ after all."

"They are the same Kathlyn! And yet, one is apprentice level and the other adept! Why? How?"

"I don't know how. You don't know how. I bet the man who made them, saying that's normally how enchanting works, doesn't knows how. In fact the only one, probably, who might knew how, is dead."

"...Senthas"

"It all makes sense now father! Why he left the kingdom, why he disappeared, why we found him deep within the savage lands, in a village forgotten even by their own people! And from what Martyn said to me, I'm pretty sure that he had Martyn's parents killed in an accident, not long after he claimed him for his student. He obviously *done* something to the boy with life magic! And he went over there because who would be able to tell anything was done to a child? Their naive shamans? Heh, no way."

"Kathlyn, don't... No... As the commander of the support mages of this keep, I *order* you not to tell anyone about anything related to this. Especially your mother, who knows what she'll trade that information for. Also, stop pushing the barbarian to enchant stuff, in fact, slowly lessen how much time you spend with him altogether, else someone notices something's off. Now, please leave me, you've just multiplied my workload by a dozen degrees!"

As he watched his daughter closing the door behind her, he let his head rest on his arm. This whole thing was bringing him a massive headache.

Obviously, his daughter was wrong. His old Master hadn't done anything to the boy. If that was the case, then he would have simply walked away from the gate, went to the next village, and repeat the process to another child. The only thing that could be true from his daughter's deductions was the thing about Senthas killing the boy's parents. He was crazy like that when he wanted to claim something as his own.

But for the rest? He personally went to study the echo of the spells his old master had used, and there were enough traps in place to level a field. No wonder the barbarians managed to pull off that crazy defense of theirs. But there were some pieces that didn't fit the puzzle at that moment, but now slid nicely into place.

There was some kind of unique magic he had used, they were still trying to decrypt exactly what, but it seemed to guide the gates towards the village, like a beacon of sorts, like Senthas wanted the gates to spawn close to him, or, now in context, away from the forest where young people usually hunted. There was the fact that his Master chose to die in order to seal a gate, instead of simply running away and coming with an army. But, from what they've seen, Martyn was out hunting when the gate spawned. If Senthas would have left, there was a chance that Martyn would have walked straight into a Destroyer's army. And of course, there was the dying message of the grant Magister, making preparations for the child's future in case he died.

Everything pointed that Senthas chose to die there, in order to protect the boy.

They knew, from what Martyn had said to them that his Master had taught him mainly enchanting and transmuting, completely negleting basic support spells like healing, and only teaching him the most basic of all protection and offensive spells. And they also knew that he was training the boy to be a smith, drilling every modern technique he knew onto the boy.

No. There was no coincidence. Senthas knew about the boy's ability to enchant crafted weapons. But the blasted fool told noone anything about it. He wrote nothing down. He took his secrets to his grave. The only thing he did right was sending Martyn here, to him, to his old apprentice...