Good day and welcome to Day two. I will keep writing tonight, but I wanted to post this now, as it is an end of A chapter. I have gone back and posted the entire chapter one — still unedited — so that this part of the story will make sense. Go finish that, before reading this.

No, really. Go.

Chapter 2: The spell and the sword

“Strength does not come from physical capacity. It comes from an indomitable will.”
– Mahatma Gandhi

Invictus hit the ground hard, all the air coming out in a loud, “UMPH” as he did.  He could feel the skin on his wrists and knees breaking open on the stone floor and the blood begin to flow from his wounds.  And to make matters worse, his head bounced off the rock with a resounding “thud” that made it ring loud enough that he couldn’t hear the voices around him.  This was actually a blessing, as he didn’t want to hear the jibes of the other schoolboys again, anyway.

This is getting old.  And painful.

His thoughts were almost drowned out by the bell ringing in his skull, but were loud enough to make him attempt to stand, one more time.

“You are weak.  Stay down,” Marcos voice was cruel, and was followed by a hard thump on Invictus’ back.   Back down he went, sliding across the uneven floor with his chin and chest, leaving more small cuts.

He lay there for a moment, pondering what to do.  He only knew a few spells, and not of them were combat magic.  The damn teacher wouldn’t show him the good stuff until he had mastered his concentration.  If he knew how to throw a stun ball, this would be a non-issue.  All he could do was basic light and heat, enough to start a small fire if he concentrated enough.  There is no way he could make these little spells into bully repellant.  Unless…

He started chanting under his breath, drawing magic energy to him in a slow and study rush that made his head throb.  Between the crack on the skull and the gathering of power, this headache was the mother lode.  But he was determined to make that son of a bitch pay for all this bullying.  He just needed an edge so he could stand and fight.   Just a few seconds more.

The kick in the ribs that came next was almost enough to break his concentration and make him lose the power he had gathered.  As he had been taught, a wizard’s greatest strength is in his will; Will to draw mana, Will to focus power into an imagined probability,  and Will to keep it together when outside stresses made these first two difficult.  For if a wizard released power without will, the effects could be deadly to the wizardly and those around him.

Not that this little spell from this little boy could cause the world to end or anything, but it would definitely not feel good if the power backlashed.  Invictus kept it together, and focused the power, imagining a bright white light in a brilliant cone.  He captured that image in him mind’s eye and rolled over onto his back, thrusting his hand towards Marcos.  Through outstretched fingers, bright white light filled the immediate area in front of him, blinding his oppressors.

As they all reached for their eyes, Invictus struggled to his feet and charged towards Marcos.  He threw his most powerful punch as the bully’s face, screaming in a berserk, high-pitched voice and…met air.

Marcos had moved.  Somehow, he had managed to get out of the way or was able to counteract the blindness.  Either way, he now stood next to Invictus with a wicked smile on his face.

“Missed me,” with a slow vicious tone that made Invictus cringe in fear.  In a step and a lunge, Marcos hit the young wizard square in the chest with the open palm of his hand, sending him off the ground and into the air.  He hit the stone again with a resounding thud, and remained motionless on the slab staring up at the sky.  He was not sure if he could move again.  Between the spell and the beating, he was spent.  Not sure what else to do, so he just laid there and bled on the cold rock.

Marcos’ face appeared over him eclipsing the sun with his head, that smile ever present and ever mocking Invictus weak body.  He pulled from behind him a small stick and swung it back out of view.  Invictus didn’t move, ready to accept the blows that would surely come soon.  At least this time he had earned them.  He had fought back and didn’t just…

Pain flooded through Invictus as the stick connected with his ribcage, making one of them crack.  He screamed so loud his own ears hurt, but the next blow connected before he could finish and the wind came out him choking off the sound.

Just kill me and get it over with.  I’ve had enough.

“No you haven’t, boy.  No you haven’t,” came the voice above him, as the next blow hit and broke the left arm, that had reflexively come up to block a blow to the head.

Invictus had been talking about loud and didn’t realize it, screaming for Marcos to kill him, to end this torment of years.  It was too much.  Too much.

“I am still enjoying this, Vic. There is no way I am ready to stop.”

As Invictus once again saw the stick coming down, he braced for impact, in the sense that he just lay there waiting for the pain.  There was no movement left in him.  He closed his eyes as he expected the blow and…it never came.  Another voice rang out, familiar and strong.

“Leave him alone, Marcos.  He’s had enough.  Why don’t you try someone more your size?”

Marcos spun in place, with a look of shock and horror as he faced this new adversary.  His expression changed to hatred as he stared into the eyes of his brother.

“Coming to the aid of the defenseless, again, Damon?  I would think you would be kissing butt with Father, or that old fool of a magic teacher.  It seems to be your best skill.”

Damon moved to a defensive posture, hands out in front of him slightly apart with the left slightly closer to Marcos.  He made a “come and get it” gesture with the front hand and smiled as he spoke.

“And yours is being an overbearing ass, it seems.  Care to test your stick skills against my fists, brother?  I was looking for a little exercise after all morning with books.”

At this, all but a few of the bigger boys moved away from Marcos, their cheers for the bully subsiding at Damon’s challenge.  Marcos’ lackeys moved to the side, as if they were moving out of the fight, but Damon knew better.  They were positioning themselves to come to the aid of Marcos when he started losing in a minute.  Damon had come to Invictus’ aid many times, and Marcos’ thugs always intervened.  Damon just saw this as extra practice, so he kept up the smile and focused on his brother, ready to act.

It grew quiet and tense for a few moments, as the three bullies slowly made a half circle around Damon.   He watched them, with the practiced ease of a warrior.  He watched them, letting them get into position, eyeing each of them in a way that made them uneasy.  As they finally stopped, presumably at the proper position for an ambush, Damon smiled wide, his thoughts thoroughly on the game he was about to play.

Here comes the fun part.

The larger of the two boys lunged at him from his left flank in a powerful charge intended to knock Damon down.  Damon stood still, watching the other boy maneuver toward Damon’s back, looking to get behind him also.  As the charge had almost reached him, Damon saw Marcos start his step and swing with the stick.  Damon waited.

Just as first thug’s arms started around Damon, he dropped into a crouch and launched an elbow into the big boy’s groin, using his other hand to focus his forward momentum overhead towards the second boy.   Surprised, he didn’t quite move as fast as he needed to avoid being slammed by the behemoth Damon hurled at him.  Down they both went, as Damon stepped forward toward Marcos with his right arm straight and out to the side.

Marcos moved the stick back, in an attempt to block Damon’s arm, but was just below the mark as Damon’s forearm caught him in the throat.  Marcos’ legs went out from under him and he fell abruptly to his back, the stick flying out of his arms towards the crowd.  They jumped out of the way, and the stick twirled out of sight.

As the clanged against the ground, Damon turned to a relaxed stance, facing the 3 fallen boys.  As they began moaning, he looked down at Marcos with an oversized grin and laughed loudly.  He leaned over him, as Marcos coughed and choked, holding his throat.

“Your guard is still too low, Marcos.”

Laughing again, he walked over to where Invictus lie, and helped him up.   Still laughing, he put the smaller boy’s arm over his shoulder and helped him away.

“How are you feeling, Vic?”

Invictus only groaned, nearly passing out from the pain of walking.  When they had cleared the scene of the fight, Damon’s laughter turned somber.

“You really need to stay away from Marcos.  One of these days, he may kill you if you aren’t careful.”

The other just nodded his head, unable to speak with several broken bones.  Through his mind, he knew the only thing keeping him conscious was his will; his Wizard’s Will that made him not quit.  He would never quit, even beaten bloody senseless, as that would make him truly weak.  And he was not weak, just unskilled.  Someday, he would be skilled, and Marcos’ torment only drove him to study harder, to become mighty.  Someday, Damon and his father would be proud.

All that came out of his mouth, however, was a whimper and a cough, as he was led once again to his Master Annathon to be healed.  More humiliation and talk.  More punishment for fighting, even though Damon would surely tell what had happened.  That it wasn’t his fault.

And Damon would insist on sharing the punishment, and Annathon would agree, so that Damon would watch over me, as he always did.

Someday, I will be mighty.  Someday, I will be saving them with my power. 

Damon put Invictus on the bed in the Master’s office, and Annathon went to work, the predictable argument already underway.  Once he was lying on the bed, however, Invictus could feel his will fail.  In his Master’s house, there was nothing to fear, no one to hurt him.  He could relax now, and he did.  He saw the room start to blacken, and he knew what was happening.   The noises became distant, and he was left with one…last…thought.

Someday.