Chapter 14.
"Maríma…" she paused, "Be careful."
At these words Jakob was stunned. Maríma was his mothers name. Was this her?
In a daze, Jakob watched as Maríma moved gracefully out of the waiting room and into the arena, leaving him grappling with a whirlwind of emotions. The revelation that the black-haired woman bore his mother's name hung in the air, wrapping Jakob in a cloak of confusion and hope. As he followed the memory, the anticipation of witnessing his mother in action mixed with the turmoil of unanswered questions
How old was this memory of Acantha's? Jakob had no idea, he hadn't seen her face, but Maríma, his mother, looked barely over eighteen.
Hoping that he would get to watch his mother, Jakob willed the memory of Acantha to follow. Almost as if she could hear him, Acantha strolled purposefully toward the exit. The atmosphere in the narrow corridors shifted as she moved through the labyrinthine passages. Hushed whispers and sidelong glances accompanied her, but Jakob's mind remained fixated on the revelation of his mother. The anticipation backstage mirrored his own internal struggle, a silent prelude to the duel that awaited.
Exiting the narrow passageway, Acantha found herself in a secluded area of the arena designated for fighters. This space allowed them to observe the duels without being in direct view of the crowd. The air buzzed with the energy of anticipation as fighters, each engrossed in their own thoughts, awaited their turn in the arena.
Acantha positioned herself near the entrance, a vantage point that afforded her a clear view of the upcoming duel. The cheers of the crowd filtered through the walls, creating a symphony of excitement. Her eyes, and thus Jakobs, however, remained fixed on the arena where Maríma prepared to face Swiftstorm.
Swiftstorm was a middle aged man with hair whiter than a blizzard. His eyes glowed with a blue that seemed out of the world. Raising a hand, he started to taunt Maríma.
"The little shadow will be nothing but a memory after this."
"Nice job, Mr Obvious. You can summon lightning, but can you also summon any good insults or even a good personality?" Jakobs mother said as she laughed.
"Enough, this ends now," Swiftstorm said in a rage, creating an electric tension that mirrored the magic he wielded. Sparks coiled like living rope around his arm as pointed toward Jakobs mother, unleashing a lightning bolt towards her.
In an instant, faster than the eye could see, the bolt had travelled the length of the arena. It was not fast enough. Right before the bolt had won Swiftstorm the victory, Maríma had disappeared. Where did she go? Questioned Jakob, enthralled with watching his mother fight, on the edge of his metaphorical seat.
The shadows behind Swiftstorm rippled and in a flash, Maríma appeared. Darkness coiled and twisted, like ink running down a page, forming claws around Marímas hands. The claws leapt forward, slashing the back of Swiftstorms knee. A scream erupted from Swiftstorms lips as he turned around, bolts of lighting already moving to strike the shadows.
Like before, the bolts struck the air, missing Maríma as she once again blurred into darkness. Repeating the exact same motion from earlier, shadows rippled behind Swiftstorm as Maríma burst forth. Pulling the darkness to her fingers, as if black paint was capable of movement, claws formed once again. As rapidly as her first strike, Marímas claws severed the tendons in the back of Swiftstorms other knee.
Crippled, unable to walk, the broken mage collapsed to his knees. His eyes light up, bluer than the brightest sapphire, as a scream born of rage and pain coiled from his lungs. Runes circled around Swiftstorms arms as his magic burst forward. Lightning bolts hit every square of the arena attacking indiscriminately.
Swiftstorm's actions spoke volumes about his growing frustration and rage. Every attempt to land a shot on Maríma seemed futile, and Jakob could sense the mounting desperation in the older mage.
All of these many, many attacks were in vain. Jakob watched with constant surprise as his mother shifted and flickered using the many shadows cast by the light as hiding spaces. Enthralled, just as he had been the first time he watched Ingolf wield hupoks, Jakob was once again an apprentice in the view of a master. What was more surprising, Jakob realised, stunned, was that this was his mother.
Will I be able to do this, questioned Jakob, already imagining himself being a lord of darkness.
One final move, one final shadow walk, as shadows once again rippled. Bursting forward, not unlike the suddenness of a setting sun, Marímas knee connected with Swiftstorms nose. The battle was won.
Shadows clung to Maríma like loyal companions, and the arena echoed with the thunderous applause of spectators. It was a moment frozen in time, etched into Jakob's memory, a testament to his mother's prowess as a skilled and respected shadow mage. With that final bow, the memory began to fade, leaving Jakob with a newfound sense of curiosity and a swirl of conflicting emotions.
Stunned, Jakob found himself in front of Acanatha, still grappling with the revelations of his mother's past. The memory had unravelled layers of mystery, exposing Maríma's formidable skills and leaving Jakob with a tapestry of conflicting emotions. As the echoes of applause lingered in his mind, he turned to Acantha, his eyes reflecting the whirlwind of thoughts within.
"Is that... Was that really my mother?" Jakob's voice wavered, a mixture of awe and disbelief. Acantha nodded, a solemn acknowledgment of the truth she had revealed. The weight of the revelation settled in Jakob's chest, and he found himself torn between the admiration for his mother's prowess and the uncertainty of what this newfound knowledge meant for his own destiny.
The revelations about his mother's abilities opened a door to understanding his own potential. "Why didn't she tell me?" he questioned, the sense of betrayal mingling with the desire for answers.
"Why didn't I know any of this? Why did she abandon me?" Jakob questioned, split between reverence and annoyance. "And who are you?" He said, stepping up in front of the table. "I thought you were a trader? I didn't know you could do any of that."
Acantha rose, putting her hands on Jakobs shoulders. "I'm sorry, I said I will tell you everything that I know." She paused, looking into Jakobs eyes. Concern, as vivid as the sun, helped tame Jakobs emotions.
"I paid the traders to let me travel with them when they went to Hukapa. It was so I could watch over you as much as I could, but also during the rest of the year be a sorcerer."
"What is a Sorcerer?" Jakob asked, "Is that a name for a fighter? I thought it was just another word for mage like magician?"
Acantha shook her head as she started to explain. "That memory was before I became a sorcerer, I was fighting each night trying to survive and your mother…" She paused as if remembering a fond memory.
"Your mother was working undercover, trying to stop a particular nasty drug from spreading through the underworld." Acantha, gestured for Jakob to sit as she continued, "Your mother saved me and trained me as a Sorcerer"
Acantha's dual life unfolded before Jakob's eyes, from a fighter surviving each night to becoming a sorcerer trained by none other than Maríma. The layers of mystery surrounding Acantha's identity began to unravel, revealing a woman who navigated both the mundane and magical realms. Jakob's emotions, once a tempest of confusion and betrayal, now swirled with a newfound sense of respect for Acantha's dedication.
"Mage, sorcerer and magician are different qualifications of a magic user," Said Acantha continuing to speak.
"A mage is someone who can use magic, a magician is essentially someone who has a job that requires them to use magic. While a sorcerer is someone who hunts magic users that break the law by using their magic to harm or steal from other people. There are other different words that mean different things. Like, wizard, witch and warlock are all different jobs and titles that magic users can have."
As Jakob processed the revelations, he felt a mixture of awe and uncertainty, realising that there was still much to learn about the magical world and his place within it. The titles and the roles unfolded before him like a vast tapestry, leaving him with a lingering sense of curiosity and even more questions.
"So Then, my mother was a sorcerer and used shadow magic to hunt down criminals?"
Acantha nodded in confirmation, "She was one of the best sorcerers around. Just over twenty years ago, before you were born, she was hunting a criminal when suddenly she vanished. No-one knew where she was, if she was alive or not, no-one knew anything."
Acantha stopped speaking to have a quick drink of water, whether this was for dramatic effect or not Jakob didn't know. "Then, just before you were born, she appeared and said that she had been held captive by the criminal she had been chasing." Acantha paused, choking on her words.
"She said that she was being hunted and so, after she gave birth to you and your brother, she separated the two of you to make it impossible for the man to track the both of you. She asked that I watch over you and teach you magic when you came of age."
"Where is my brother now? Asked Jakob, "Do you know his name?"
"No," said Acantha, shaking her head. "I don't know anything about him, your mother never even told me his name. She said if the man managed to get me, then he wouldn't know anything about your brother."
This man must have terrified my mother if she wouldn't even tell someone as strong as or as close to her as Acantha my brother's name, Jakob solemnly thought.
"Unfortunately…" a tear rolled down Acantha's cheek, "The man hunting your mother caught up to and killed her. I tried following in her footsteps to hunt the man who killed her. In fifteen years of searching all I found out was that the man, that criminal, called himself The Master."
Jakob froze, clenching his fists. A shiver as cold as the touch of death ran down Jakob's spine.
"The Master wants you alive".
Jakob's heart skipped a beat, memories flooding through his brain.
"The Master sent me, an air mage, to capture the World-killer."
Frozen in silent panic, unable to get a word out, worry started to crush his spirits. The person who had hunted and killed his mother was after him? Could it be the same person? This couldn't be a coincidence? Could it?
"So, what do I do?" said Jakob, "If the Master is the same one who killed my mother I can't stay here." Frantically trying to search for an option his voice rose an octave, "Those people know who I am and where I live! What do I do?" he said, pleading for options to Acantha.
Voice as calming as the gentle patter of rain, Acantha relieved his tension, "That is the very thing that I was going to talk to you and your family about when I saw you fighting the air mage."
"What do you mean?" said Jakob obviously confused, "You were coming to tell me it was unsafe before you knew it was unsafe?"
"No," Replied Acantha, shaking her head. "I was going to see if you wanted to learn magic."