Magic Fades
A Prince Battles
An Ancient Enemy Awakens
It has been more than a hundred years since the Night Mother vanished with a host of Deiran warriors. Eldred, heir to the Deiran throne, races to manifest the Bond—the greatest of the Night Mother’s gifts—before he reaches the age of ascension. Failure will cost him everything. Trouble in the distant north presents an opportunity for honor. Eldred’s ability to decipher the mysteries of the Wretcheds—a discarded people of the Night Mother—could spell the difference between victory and death.
Magic Fades
A Prince Battles
An Ancient Enemy Awakens
It has been more than a hundred years since the Night Mother vanished with a host of Deiran warriors. Eldred, heir to the Deiran throne, races to manifest the Bond—the greatest of the Night Mother’s gifts—before he reaches the age of ascension. Failure will cost him everything. Trouble in the distant north presents an opportunity for honor. Eldred’s ability to decipher the mysteries of the Wretcheds—a discarded people of the Night Mother—could spell the difference between victory and death.
Eldred stood in the dirt training square, surrounded by the one-story wooden barracks, leaning on his staff. He was in the first line of the hundred fifty or so squires in attendance at the Academy, with the rows growing younger and wider the further back they stretched. Proper Deirans, all of them, wiry and small, dressed in their rough woolen tunics.
Preceptor Garaint paced back and forth in front of the assembly. “I cannot emphasize enough the importance keeping of a firm grip on your staff. Take two otherwise equal opponents, the one with a firm grip will win most of the time. Be that in a warrior taking an offensive approach to fighting and primarily seeking to strike, or be that in a defensively minded armsman looking first to avert a strike, rather than landing their own blow. I cannot emphasize enough…”
Tenny leaned over and whispered. “His lectures are more deadly than his staff.”
Eldred smiled and glanced back at the children behind him, who attentively watched the preceptor between the gaps in the taller squires up front. They hadn’t heard this same boring lecture twelve times before like he had. Probably none of them ever would.
Absently gazing out in the field beyond the square, Eldred caught sight of a bumblebee. Two hundred yards away, the bee was buzzing a few feet off the ground when it caught wind of a hollyhock with five floppy flowers in bloom. Eldred focused his sight as the bee landed on the lowest flower and scooped up a respectable harvest of pollen. Then, it drifted up to the next flower and padded its collection even more.
What would it be like to dive into a flower bigger than yourself and full of sustenance? Eldred took a deep breath as he imagined the luxury of the experience. Suddenly, something poked him in the shoulder.
Preceptor Garaint yelled in his face. “What’s wrong with you, Eldred? I called your name three times!”
“Huh?” said Eldred.
“He forgot his name, sir. Can't blame a Mercian for that,” said Dreven.
The boys laughed. Eldred glared down at Dreven, who stood at the other end of the old-timers line, and walked up in front of the assembly.
“One foot in front of the other. You can do it, Eldred!” called Dreven with a wide smile, eliciting more mirth from the squires.
“We are going to have a demonstration of the technique from Eldred, the senior squire. I need a partner for him; any volunteers?”
Eldred towered over the preceptor as the preceptor looked over the crowd, choosing Eldred’s victim. Tenny raised his hand; that was the right choice, the only worthy competitor. His quickness offset Eldred’s strength and reach to some degree. Dreven also raised his hand. Eldred smiled. Not a competitive match, but one he would make sure to enjoy.
Eldred’s eyes widened in surprise when Preceptor Garaint chose a boy, Traden, from the second row. That was not how it usually worked. It was embarrassing enough to fight the old-timers. Traden was barely thirteen years old and was well under five feet tall.
“Traden, I want you to come in aggressively. Don’t worry about hurting Eldred; he is fairly skilled.”
Eldred raised an eyebrow. Fairly skilled?
“Now, Eldred. I want you to demonstrate the defensive techniques I covered today. You are stepping back, pivoting from foot to foot, blocking out, blocking out. You are not swinging at him. Check that impulse!”
“I’m always careful, Preceptor.”
“Did you not club Mance in the head last week?”
Eldred glanced at the aggrieved looking squire in the front row. “He stepped into it and it was only a glancing blow.”
Preceptor Garaint waved his hand dismissively. “Let’s have more care today. Traden, begin.”
Traden charged towards Eldred: thrusting, thrusting, thrusting. Eldred retreated at a measured pace, blocking out the attacks. The sound of clacking staves filled the air.
“That’s good. Hold up, Traden. Well done.” Preceptor Garaint turned towards the assembly. “What did you observe?”
“I noticed a giant Mercian fighting a little kid!” said Dreven.
“I’m not Mercian,” growled Eldred.
Preceptor Garaint huffed. “Something specific—regarding the defensive work?”
“He is always blocking out, away from his body. He’s blocking out,” said Tenny.
“That is exactly right. I couldn’t have said it better myself.”
Eldred rolled his eyes. That is exactly what Preceptor Garaint usually ended up saying, as Tenny well knew. Next, Eldred would get a chance to weakly thrust his staff at Traden a few times, being careful to let his attack get blocked out, and the drill would be done. It would be time for lunch.
“Now let’s have you two fight,” said Preceptor Garaint.
Eldred jerked his head around to stare at the preceptor. Dreven laughed. Traden turned pale for a moment, then he tightened his grip on his staff.
“Take your positions. I want a clean bout to first touch. No wild swings, Eldred. Let’s begin.”
The match was on.
Traden started on offense, stepping in and trying to tag Eldred’s arm. Eldred batted Traden’s staff away and swung for Traden’s leg. Traden jumped out of reach and then stepped in on the offensive, this time swinging at Eldred’s head. Eldred ducked and grimaced. You aren’t supposed to swing at an opponent's head. Eldred pressed forward, driving Traden back with quick, short thrusts. One, two, three times, and there. Eldred tagged Traden lightly on the shoulder. Traden angrily threw his stick down. Eldred straightened up and smiled. Except for a few times when Tenny had been lucky, Eldred had not lost in years.
Preceptor Garaint clapped politely. “Well fought. Young Traden did quite well. When you give up size, strength and reach, you are at a significant disadvantage in one on one combat. This is a disadvantage we often face when fighting Mercians.”
“I’m Deiran,” muttered Eldred.
“Of course you are. Now let’s adjust the contest. Noll, you come up and join with Traden. Dreven, you come up with Eldred.”
“Wait. What do you mean ‘with’?” asked Eldred.
“You are going to fight against each other in pairs.”
“We never do that!” protested Eldred.
“Today you will humor me.”
Dreven and Noll went to their respective sides.
“Watch out; Traden might swing at your head,” said Eldred.
“I might swing at your head,” said Dreven.
Preceptor Garaint walked over to Traden and Noll and clasped them each by the shoulder. “These two are standing for the trial next week. I believe they will pass. They have the Bond, or at least a taste of it.”
A murmur broke out in the assembly.
“Did you know about this?” asked Eldred.
“I heard a rumor. How are we going to fight them?” asked Dreven.
“They are still only thirteen years old. Just hold off your foe while I finish mine.”
“They are from the second row.” Dreven pointed at his chest. ”You hold off your foe while I finish off mine!”
Eldred sighed and shook his head.
Meanwhile, Preceptor Garaint was whispering something to Traden and Noll while they stared into each other’s eyes. After a theatrical moment, the two knocked fists and turned to face Eldred and Dreven with their staves at ready.
“Nothing wild, Eldred. We go to first touch. Begin,” said Preceptor Garaint.
Traden and Noll ran at Eldred like rabid dogs. They ignored Dreven and circled to opposite sides of Eldred, where they executed a coordinated attack, driving him back. First, Traden went high for Eldred’s head while Noll tried to tag Eldred on the leg. Then Noll jabbed at Eldred’s gut while Traden aimed for Eldred’s foot. They pressed Eldred hard. He only had time to block and evade.
As they both went for Eldred’s head, Eldred blocked Traden’s attack from the right as he ducked under Noll’s from the left.
“Take one!” called Eldred as he crashed into Dreven. Eldred tried to keep his balance, but he toppled over, knocking Dreven down as well. Before Eldred hit the ground, he felt the slap of a staff on his calf.
“Aww,” said Dreven. They had tagged him as well.
“The Bond! The Bond!” shouted the assembly while Traden and Noll held up their staves in victory.
Eldred got up and dusted off his pants. “Thanks for the help.”
Dreven remained seated in the dirt as he contemplated the victorious boys. “If they had the Bond, we couldn’t win.”
“Thank you for the demonstration, squires. I wouldn’t call it the Bond as yet, not till they pass the trial, but Traden and Noll appear strong. Good luck to you both. Eldred and Dreven, tough match. We are done for the morning. We will resume after lunch.”
A few boys crowded around Traden and Noll, congratulating them.
Eldred walked over to Tenny, waiting for the commotion to pass. “That was a new routine.”
“I didn’t see it coming. Fighting in pairs now? What a pairing, too. Not even your father could beat those two with Dreven tripping him.”
Eldred grinned. “My father would kill them both, despite Preceptor Garaint’s instructions.”
Tenny laughed. “I suppose he might. He’s killed more than a few.”
“When did those two manifest the Bond?”
“Who knows? I can’t be bothered to keep track of the children.”
“Eldred, put up your staff and come with me. The headmaster wants to see you!” called Preceptor Garaint from across the yard.
“What now?” muttered Eldred.
“At least they still talk to you,” said Tenny.
A Dragon of Turicum is about Eldred, a young prince who's often looked-down upon for both his heritage and his lack of a Bond (a type of connection only warriors have). It follows him on his journey as he sets out to find a dragon, and learns some truths about the world he thought he knew.
I had a rough start with the book, but around the 10-15% mark it grabbed me and didn't let go. I was seriously considering a DNF, but once Eldred left his home and really started his journey I couldn't put it down.
A common struggle I have with fantasy protagonists is that they sometimes fall flat. So much attention is paid to the world or the plot that the characters get pushed aside—this isn't the case with Eldred.
He can be frustrating, as his views are clearly wrong and ill-informed, but he's also endearing and you want to sympathize with him. You clearly see him grow and change, and I actually really enjoyed following him.
I like the side characters as well, though it under-describes the minor characters. I often had a hard time picturing their faces in the scenes. That said, their dialogue and actions make them distinguishable, so I wasn't confused—the mental picture was just a bit fuzzy.
Speaking of which: I often struggle getting a good mental image of the world, but I didn't with this book.
Despite the fact that many of the chapters are mostly dialogue and action, A Dragon of Turicum isn't lacking in setting description. It's incorporated in such a way that it feels very immersive, but doesn't drag the story down. It ends up having wonderful pacing and engaging characters that you want to follow.
I would recommend A Dragon of Turicum to someone looking for an adventurous fantasy novel with an endearing protagonist. Don't be fooled by a slow start—this book is more than worth it!