There were very few things in Sedgewick Alverdyne's life that couldn't be fixed by the rigorous application of his magic and this battle would prove no different.

He blocked out the sound of the charging horses and the whizzing of arrows far above his head. Magic, warm and certain, heated his veins as he reached forward, searching for the rune discs he'd hidden beneath the ground in the dark of last night. They too thrummed with his magic, calling out their presence to him. He opened his eyes. Ten seconds until the charging army of Onryx reached the discs.

"Now would be the time for this mad plan of yours," King Eldain, his sovereign and friend, whispered from his horse above. The fey's long, pointed ears remained still but Sedgewick knew him well enough to know they'd be twitching nervously if he wasn't before his men.

Five seconds.

"Not yet," Sedgewick whispered back. He knelt to the ground, digging his fingers into the dirt and reaching out toward the discs with tendrils of his magic. Anyone at ground level might have noticed a faint orange shimmer skimming across the stone and dirt but a charging soldier wouldn't.

One.

His magic reached the discs at the same time Onryx did. Sedgewick flicked his hands upward, the orange glow now obvious and ominous. A mage on their enemy's side called out a warning and summoned a dark blue ward too late.

Fire erupted from the ground. Horses and fey men screamed as they became wreathed in flames. The ground where the discs had been buried cracked open, making horses stumble and fling their riders from their backs. The forces that had outnumbered them and blocked the mountain pass they were trying to take began crumbling in the face of the chaos.

"Creator above," someone whispered in horror behind him.

King Eldain didn't hesitate. He reached out a long arm for Sedgewick's hand and the mage scrambled up onto Eldain's horse behind him. "Sound the horns!" he shouted.

The first horn rang out. A second horn released its note as well. Then a third and a fourth until all of the Abreylian lords were charging, battle cries rising to join the sound of the horns.

They swept a clean path through Onryx's frantic troops. Sedgewick pulled his mage's staff from his back. He threw up orange barriers, blocking assaults by other mages and dismissing them in time to set fire to enemy soldiers whenever the shot was clear. Eldain guided his horse into the thick of battle with the skill of someone who'd been trained since his youth. Finally, Sedgewick spotted one of the mages under his command. A mage wearing a familiar pointed yellow hat who was slowly being hedged in. Hellgates take that boy, he thought, his own pointed ears slicking back in irritation.  "I'm getting off!"

"Then do it without distracting me!" Eldain shouted back before bringing his sword down on a fey below him.

Sedgewick tossed his staff to the ground. Holding onto his own wide-brimmed, pointed, orange mage's hat, he rolled off the horse and summoned his staff back to his hand.

No sooner had he done that then a spear thrust toward his stomach. Sedgewick battered it away with his staff. It skimmed his upper arm, slicing through a gap in the leather armor he wore. Sedgewick's lips curled into a sneer at the delay. He shot a blast of orange magic at the soldier's chest and the fey toppled over dead.

Sedgewick broke into a run, blasting his way through horses and spearmen and dodging those he couldn't, heading for where he'd seen that yellow hat moments before. Finally, he spotted Rivian ahead.

The apprentice mage was holding his own for now. His yellow-gold magic flared out around him, twisting into spells that held the soldiers at a distance, but he was outnumbered and that distance was fading fast. He blocked the blow of one spear against his staff but another fey ran at his now-exposed back.

Sedgewick charged. His magic thrummed into the essantium core of his staff. Vaulting forward, he slammed a burst of magical energy into the ground. The sheer force of the released energy sent the encircling soldiers toppling backward.

Not wasting a second, Sedgewick spun his staff around in his hands and twisted a ring near the top. A six-inch blade sprung out at the bottom just in time for him to jab it into the back of the remaining soldier.

Flesh gave way to the metal. A choked cry rose in the soldier's throat before a final blast of Rivian's yellow magic silenced him forever. Sedgewick yanked his staff from the body and turned his rage onto his apprentice. "What the gates are you doing? I told you to stay near the back!"

"With the battle healers and the injured?" Orivian asked incredulously. "Mages belong up here with the— Behind you, sir!"

Sedgewick shot a blast behind him. Another body dropped but his attention didn't waver. "An apprentice mage! Or have you forgotten that, Rivian?"

"Only technically," he snapped. Orivian had been forced to delay his final apprentice test when all of Abreyla's mages had been summoned back from the Ivory Tower. He gestured to the fallen soldiers around him. "Not the work of an apprentice." Rivian wiped a splatter of blood from his Abreylian-brown skin.

"Not the work of a master either," Sedgewick growl. "Stay at my back and don't get stabbed or I'll leave you where you drop."

Rivian gave him a sharp smile and moved to guard Sedgewick's back. The two waded back into the thick of the battle, their orange and yellow magic clearing a path for them as they went. Sedgewick flung himself fully into the feeling of his magic racing out and striking, and the hum of the battle around him. It weaved into his chest and blocked out all else. Guilt, loss, regret, all of those endless weights that pressed against his lungs dropped away at the sight of his enemies falling. Here he was not weak. Here he was not useless. The size of the fey didn't matter. They all burnt the same. The strength of his fellow mage's magic couldn't hope to match his, and so they too fell.

Hours and seconds felt the same. The only reliable judge of time was the way his fingers had begun to tingle from excess magic use, a sign that even he had limits. Sedgewick shoves the feeling away with the same ease he could now use on the grief buried in him. Blood and Magic. Magic and Blood. They called to him and he answered with relish.

Eventually, some part of him became cognizant that his enemies were fleeing instead of charging. Good. Let them run, let them flee. He was Sedgewick Alverdyne and he was not weak, not useless, not—

"Sir!" Rivian's hands grabbed onto his upraised arm. Sedgewick's blow scorched the ground in front of him. The red haze around his head began lifting but not fast enough. He jerked his arm free and twisted around toward his apprentice.

"What in hellgates are you—"

"They're retreating," Rivian hissed out.

Sedgewick jerked his attention back toward Onryx. What remained of the assault was pulling back, a white flag now waving below their banners. "Oh," he whispered softly. The weight fell upon him again and Sedgewick shivered.

Rivian's brow furrowed. Strands of his blond hair had been plastered to his forehead with sweat and blood. He released Sedgewick's arm but kept a hand on his shoulder.

Sedgewick battered the hand away roughly. "You should have stayed at the back where you belong."

Rivian didn't argue, but then again, that was his way. Say nothing and then do as he pleased. "You should visit a healer for that gash."

Finally, Sedgewick noticed the stinging in his upper arm. Blood had begun dripping from the wound onto his brown leather armor. "You ought to remember your place. Leave me alone, boy. If I wanted fussed over then I'd get a wife."

Rivian shot him a scowl. For a moment, he actually looked like a boy of a hundred and one instead of the deadly slinger of spells he'd been earlier. He stomped off and Sedgewick resisted the urge to regret his words. The lad had done good, but he shouldn't have been here at all.

Sedgewick clenched and unclenched his hands. The numb tingle from pushing his magic reserves to the edge still lingered. He knew he should return to the camp soon. There were further plans to be made and the mages who worked under him needed to be accounted for and given directions. Hopefully, their training had kept them alive through the battle. For right now, however, he remained still. Today had gone well. His rune discs had given his chosen homeland the edge it had needed. But for now, the grief he'd set down during the battle pressed against his chest again. Sedgewick closed his amber eyes and saw her dark, deep gaze framed by a wreath of brown curls pressed against her matching skin. He saw the smile hidden at the corners of her mouth. The commanding tilt of her head that he couldn't have resisted even if he'd wished to.

Alena...

Not that he'd ever dared to call Eldain's mother, the former queen of Abreyla, by her name alone. No, the woman who had taken him off the streets and believed in his talent as a mage when no one else had only received the most reverent of addresses from him.

Not that his talents had been enough to keep her alive.

Sedgewick forced his attention from his thoughts to his surroundings. He had seen dead men before his first battle in the war's beginning but it wasn't the same. The battlefield that had roared with the cries of men, the clanging of spears and the blasting of spells now was as silent as the bodies in front of him. He breathed in the stench of burnt flesh and blood as he picked his way through the remains and for a moment, the nearly-endless rolling of anger and regret in his gut cooled.

The clopping of a horse behind him made his ears twitch but Sedgewick didn't turn. He surveyed an unburnt corpse in front of him, his amber eyes lingering on the dead fey's shield bearing the symbol of Onryx; twin peaks beneath crossed swords.

"I didn't think you had it in you, mage." Lord Faren of Endingwood guided his brown warhorse to Sedgewick. "But that mad spell of yours worked. The pass is cleared."

"A spell in the form of rune discs, technically. The placement was just as important as the magic." Sedgewick tore his gaze from the body to the rising mountain pass they would soon be trekking through. His fingers twitched, already itching for the feel of his mage's staff in his hand again.

Lord Faren grunted behind him, apparently unconcerned with the details of Sedgewick's craft. "His Majesty demands your presence at his war tent."

"I'll be there in a moment," Sedgewick snapped. Was a moment's peace after everything he'd done too much to ask?

"Don't think what you did mean you can keep us waiting." The lord turned his horse around and rode off.

Sedgewick stepped around the body and picked up a broken piece of essantium, the magic holding material he'd made the rune discs from. It was as gray as the mountain now. Empty and drained of all magic. He closed his eyes and the image of him triggering the discs and sending flames shooting up from the ground into the charging Onryx soldiers played before his mind again.

His plan had worked perfectly.  The rush of battle had begun and his magic had sung from his veins to his mage's staff. He'd been able to forget his failures, forget the weight that kept him awake at night and on edge during the day. Forget the loss of Alena.

He tossed the fragment back to the ground. Bringing his boot down on top of it, he then closed his eyes at the satisfying crack. The broiling heat cooled again. Sedgewick took a final look around the battlefield and felt bile rising in his throat. He swirled around and left before the feeling could force its way up.

****************

Author's Note: Annnnddd first ONC milestone reached! So, what do you all think of Young!Sedgewick? Any new readers who haven't read my other works with his character?

Also, shoutout to Cross-Warrior  for helping me with the title and Orivian/Rivian's name! She's also doing ONC and you should definitely check her entry out. There's dragons.