The stone there is weakening, the screws holding me in are being worked out of their placement. She thought, hope flooding her. She suppressed it harshly, trying to control her aura before he looked back at her. When he did, he squinted at her, examining her as if something had changed or shifted. She allowed her body to hang there, limp and still bleeding . Allowed herself to feel a small portion of the pain, so it would coat her aura and hide her discovery. The sorcerer growled low in annoyance before raising a hand to cast his sleep spell. As she drifted off into dreams, she had to fight a smirk from crossing her face.
Prologue 3: The Prospect of Freedom
"Now the student must become the master." - Eastern Proverb
Sorcerers Tower, Outskirts of City of Sowers Vale, 2nd Novos, 2989 AoR, Morning
Jekkel hovered over the bubbling cauldron as green and blue light emanated from the strange liquid that filled it. He had been standing here, waiting for his master to appear in the water for some time. He had even stopped his latest session with his prize in order to be here and ready for his master’s latest orders. The session had been relieving for him after the setbacks he encountered.
First the apeman he built had failed, then the Cardinal had tried to deny him his prize. Then, to top it all off, the city magi came to take the girl, to take his property from him. They all met their fates at his hand, or at the hands of his servants. All except that pyromancer. The insufferable, arrogant, naïve foreign brat would die. Jekkel had already seen to that. It was an inevitability. He would…
The water stirred and a slight puff of air escaped from it, washing over Jekkel’s face and forcing him to wince. A withered and lanky gray hand with fingers as long as Jekkel’s forearm appeared in the image. “Servant!” The voice boomed, androgynous, disgusting, and loud, rattling the stones around the tallest room in his tower. Dust rained from the ceiling stones visible only because of the light that emanated from the cauldron. All sources of light had been snuffed out, and thick blackout curtains drawn across the windows.
“Yes, master I am here.” Jekkel said, his tone servile, his voice was clear. “I arrived at the time demanded and have been waiting…”
The creature interrupted Jekkel’s explanation. This time the creature’s voice was distinctly feminine. “Yes, and you are to be commended for your diligence in this slave. Now, tell me. Have you made any progress in learning the True Name of your pet?”
“Yes, master, I am very close. I was on the verge of a breakthrough earlier today, in fact. Pain forces her to retreat into a fugue state where she lives in memories until the session ends. Only a few times has she relived memories of significance, which slowed my progress. But this afternoon things were different. Specific core memories were exposed.”
The water rippled as the creature let out a contemplative sound. After a moment of silence, as Jekkel did not want to risk his master’s wrath by interrupting its thinking, the sound stopped. The creature’s hand appeared again and shifted to that of an almost healthy looking human female, but giant in proportion. It being double the size of a normal hand. The flesh shifted from gray to an almost pale pink as the hand slowly moved a book into view. It was a small thing, the size of a pamphlet with wooden covers. Something in civilized lands that would barely be called a book.
“Take this slave and use it. It will teach you or one of your servants the fundamentals of a magic not native to Ethria. Its uses in direct application are highly limited. However, it augments the natural elements of Ethria, enhancing them. This is a rare gift, though be warned. The knowledge in the book can cause you to go mad. So testing it on a slave might prove best.” She passed the book through and for a moment her hand floated above the liquid portal. Jekkel gripped the new gift and pulled it to him. “Now, tell me of what has transpired.” She demanded, and he complied.
Jekkel told his master everything, from the Cardinal’s plan to the barbarian’s assault on him, the pyromancer's challenge, and the Count’s decree after he failed to win the duel. When he finished with the demise of the Cardinal and the revelation that he had been a high-ranking member of one of the lesser circles of the clergy of Tesh. Jekkel cringed, waiting for his master’s displeasure. What came through was not what he expected. Laughter, light and clear, happy as the tinkling of bells and the sound of wind chimes in the distance. Filled with mirth that made the water ripple.
“Do not fret slave. The child god slumbers now and can not hear us talk. It is in fact the reason I scheduled this communication when I did. Your actions do not displease me, though it makes the servants and slaves I can call on to aid you more limited. From what you have told me, you have been diligent in cultivating your own slaves?”
“Uh, yes. Yes Mistress I have. Three high-level leaders of various groups in the region have pledged themselves to aid me. Including a Teshi cult that is obsessed with the now vanquished necromancer’s bloodline. And I am in talks with a fourth.”
“Tell me about them.” And he did. His three servants, the hunter, the cultist, and the alchemist assassin.
“Far has Tor and the realms of light fallen if such creatures are considered formidable. Still, use them for what you can. What have you done with the body of the Cardinal?” Jekkel told her. “A puppet, you say? Hard to do without being detected for one so lowly as you. Still, a wise decision. And it will play well in the coming hours as my other plans sprout fruit. Far to the west of you, there is a city named Gulhaven along the coast. The Child God’s acolytes of the second circle will soon strike. When this happens, your city will empty of its defenders. Have your puppet sign a decree sending all the powerful church clerics with those forces. This will leave nothing to stop your flight except these pathetic enemies you have cultivated. This pyromancer and the barbarian. Deal with them, and in the vacuum you and your followers can flee. I have a place prepared for you in the north where you can be of most use to me removing the horsemen from our army’s path south.”
Jekkel bowed as deeply as he could before he spoke. “Thank you, mistress. My tower is along the western road, not far outside the city gates. I will wait, and watch and—” the tower warmed, and beads of sweat formed on Jekkel’s brow. One dropped into the water, sending ripples through its surface. A deep growl filled the room. This one not from the sorcerer’s master. Flames roared over the tower, and Jekkel felt his home’s defenses flare to life. “Master, I am under attack. I must go see to my towers defense.”
“I excuse you, slave! Take this for your defense.” Another small vial filled with a pulsing black and brown magic appeared above the cauldron, and again Jekkel took it and clutched it to his chest. “But heed me. When you are finished with these nats flee north with your prize and followers. I will leave signs for you to follow.” With that, the eerie light from the cauldron ceased.
Jekkel turned away from the cauldron and with a flex of his will activated the powerful shield that protected his tower. The passive defenses had almost been overcome and the internal temperature of the place had increased to near dangerous levels. As sweat poured off him and turned to steam, the snow on the ground and on the eaves of the tower melted away. Plumes of steam and smoke rose into the sky. He felt it through his connection to his home more than saw it, until he pulled back the large midnight blackout curtains and saw the attack with his own eyes. Fire, pyromantic flames filled with hate and rage plumed around the building, swirling around the shield now that it was active. The magic did its work, protecting the tower from the brunt of the beam of pure fire. But so did the enemy’s spell. The heat it produced melted the ground and sent flows of scorching lava past his shield, inwards from outside his home.
His deadly death-vine gardens, the deposits of living rock salt, and other crystalline minerals he had painstakingly grown for his work, and for absorbing ambient mana, were all destroyed as the pyroclastic flows moved. Through the flames of hate, Jekkel saw the man who plagued him. A random contender in the contest of powers who appeared out of the blue. That infur
iating fairy, and the barbarian who had humiliated him all those years ago along with a few other random onlookers. Jekkel was unfamiliar with most of the gathered people that stood surrounding the pyromancer as he poured mana and rage into his spell. Jekkel read the prompt that had filled his vision and grinned. He unstoppered the vial and poured a third of the magical contents into his hands and began casting. He would not be stopped, even if that meant he had to contend with the infuriating wizard.
Behind him, a figure stirred ever so slightly. Deep in a magically imposed sleep, bound at the wrists and ankles and covered from head to toe in a magic dampening hide. Pina fought to the surface of consciousness. In her dreamscape she heard some, but not all the sorcerer’s discussion with his master. Half heard through the haze of dreams. Now, however, as she heard the sorcerer yell his anger down at the attackers, she knew. Pina knew help and hope were coming. But, with the power the sorcerer had at his disposal, and with how much she knew her own nature had changed through the sorcerer’s manipulations, she wasn’t sure it would come fast enough.
One thought forced its way through to her waking mind.
I will need to save myself.
Chapter 1: The Fury of the Pyromancer
"The most powerful weapon on Earth is the human soul on fire." - Ferdinand Foch
Sorcerers Tower, Outskirts of City of Sowers Vale, 2nd Novos, 2989 AoR - Morning
I couldn’t believe it. The tower stood just outside the western gate of Sowers Vale, where I had never been before. Black rock and various deadly looking plants covered in thorns festooned the grounds at its base. Hemmed in only by the waist-high wall that surrounded the estate of the sorcerer. The kidnapper, the betrayer.
Behind me stood a dozen knights in gleaming silver armor. They were all members of the Count’s personal bodyguard. Behind them stood half a dozen massive flying beasts. Griffons the guard road to protect their lord as he went into battle on his own flying beast. The other knights had powerful looking horses, or the lesser Gryff whose wings had yet to grow in. The man himself stood next to Tol’geth, Traser, and Ailsa, who flanked me on either side.
“Do not fret. We will retrieve your friend soon enough. I have summoned the Master Magi of the city to my knight’s support. Once we have their power to add to yours and mine, there is no way that this petty sorcerer can stand against my will. You have my word, Wizard Rayid.” Count Winslow was a good man. As good a man as he could be, given his station and experience. He took his duty and oaths as seriously as he did his status and power. For me, that was enough.
“My men will surround the tower for now. We will watch him until the masters can remove his defenses.” Said the leader of the count’s guard. The man stood nearly a height with Tol’geth and glowered almost as well.
“This guy could kill or at least subdue your citi’s top magical cop. What makes you think the other masters can do anything to stop him?” Ailsa asked from my shoulder. Her voice was severe, well, as severe as a fairy’s could be at any rate.
“That, my dear lady fae, is why we need all of them working in concert. Only then can we be sure of success. Now...” The Count led us away, and my friends all followed. Tol’geth radiated anger, but he had control of it for now. He knew that charging at the enchanted stones and hacking at them with his sword would do little but chip his weapon and expose him to danger.
As my friends and allies all started leaving, Zed being the last of them patting me on the shoulder as he walked past me following the group, I glared at the structure. The man in there, behind those black curtains, shuddered windows, and the heavy ash wood door had kidnapped my friend’s girl. He had acted like a sore loser, killed some people who were only trying to help others. Was probably in the service of someone who was the second closest thing to my sworn enemy on Ethria, and worst of all? He had cheated me out of my prize. Free time to work on the refugee issue.
I shook my head. The desire for control, dominance, and action that came from the massive amounts of magic I had been throwing around earlier in the day was still tinged my thoughts. I knew it, and it was my responsibility to stop myself from acting rashly.
But still. This guy, this poor sport, had hurt my friends and left me holding the bag. This guy needed to pay. And I had just learned he had killed or captured that nice cop guy I met a few days ago. As I thought about this Jekkel’s sins my vision began tinting red. I knew I should fight the embrace of the magic but, why should I? Shouldn’t I be wanting to rip this guy’s house down? Melt it down to nothing but slag?
Rage boiled over as I hesitated, and my world turned a deep shade of red. A black text notification appeared in my vision, simple and easy to read against the white of the snow around me. It was a new setting I was trying out and so far, I liked it. It was simple, lacking in the color or the voices of the nosey Gods I was supposedly working for.
Mental Stability Check: Passed. Mild Success. Effect: Your world view has shifted slightly, the magic is being directed by your will and natural emotions, only enhancing what would otherwise exist.
Viewing that as permission from the cosmos, I grinned and began compressing mana into a shape I had only recently become capable of making. My mana pool was normally too small to cast this spell. I had learned it from the pyromancers long-life weeks ago, but knowing and being able to cast it were different things. It was only after gaining the Force Magic mastery bonus I could now afford it. Barely.
I felt tiny wings fluttering near me, but I ignored it, too consumed by the shape the mana was taking. My will compressed again and again, before I infused just the tiniest bead of Light magic into the mix right at the very core of the spell. It wasn’t much, but as the hyper dense ball of Fire Magic roiled around it, the small spark of light magic consumed it, taking on the flame like characteristics of the fire magic.
As the spell came to its crescendo, just as it was about to finish and be ready for me to unleash, I felt a powerful hand touch my left shoulder. A wellspring of extra energy flooded me. A set of wings fluttered near my other ear and I felt Ailsa’s feet land, accompanied by another massive flood of energy.
As the world around me became less red and I infused the spell with my rage, I realized something. I couldn’t destroy the tower outright. That couldn’t, shouldn’t be my goal. Doing so would be foolish and self-defeating. My true purpose was not revenge, but liberation. To save Pina, not kill Jekkel.
Shame flared in my heart for a moment. I beat it down with the harsh reality that if I grew too distracted, everyone around me would be hurt or killed by the malfunctioning spell. Instead I looked at the spell’s shape and molded it like a potter would work clay. Giving it form and substance and altering the spell as I remembered it in the memory of the old pyromancer. Changing it into something slightly new. Instead of hardened plasma, the spell would be largely aerosolized fire. I widened the beam to encompass more of the active protections I could feel in the tower, and I lessened some of the intensity over the life of the spell lengthening its duration. When I finished, I sighed in relief. I had prevented my stupidity from doing more harm than good. I stood tall and faced the tower and realized the world was gray-scale to my eyes. A notification appeared in my vision and I let it dissolve and enter my mind, as I had been practicing over the last few weeks.
Congratulations! You have learned a new Fire based Augmentation! “Aerosolization”: Up to a maximum of 75% of any direct fire damage can be transferred to aerosolized flame. Maximum % reduces based on Tier by 25% per Tier of spell. Tier 2 spells = 50%, Tier 3 = 25%
I had already known about Aerosolization. It was one of the first augmentations that the Pyromancer had learned in his youth. From what I knew, it was a way for most apprentices to release their spells during training. It was a safety mechanism of a kind. And here, 25% of the energy of my first ever cast Tier 3 Fire magic spell would was transferred to aerosolized fire rather than a direct attack. Breathing a mental sigh of relief, I grinned and decided to have some fun with it.
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br /> “Kaaaaaaa!” I yelled, deep and guttural. “Maaaaaaaayyy!” I continued. “Yeaaaaaaaaaaa!”
“Oh, just launch the spell already!” I heard an annoyed fairy yell in my ear. “You’re not go-wah!” before she could finish I let loose the concentrated beam of energy at the heart of the spell. The beam slammed into the passive magical shield that surrounded the tower.
A purple and black shield flared to life along the stones of the tower, forcing the mana from my spell down into the salt rock that covered most of the outside pathways and ground around it. After a few seconds, the salt turned bright red. A moment later it turned molten and sent plums of wispy black smoke into the air as the salt rock burned what little vegetation there was to ash.
The plasma turned the earth itself into a molten state. The hum of my attack filled the air, silencing all other sounds as I poured more and more mana into the spell. Just as the spell was about to lose some of its coherency and turn into an aerosolized stream of fire, a magical barrier magnitudes stronger than the first exploded out of the tower, pushing my spell back. My spell turned into a massive version of Jet of Flame, engulfing the base of the tower’s new shield in fire. After only a moment, the magical flames leaped to the top of the shield and coalesced into an inferno that rose high into the night sky. The setting sun’s orange rays overcast the orange inferno that had become my spell.
The rock and earth at the base of the tower’s shield began to super-heat as the flames were half directed down into the ground. As my exhaustion grew, and I felt the mana I had available growing smaller and smaller, a small pyroclastic flow crossed into the sorcerer’s estate and made the small stone wall pop and crackle as it broke apart. Whatever magical hardening it had at its core was overcome by the lava flow I had sent its way.
Ethria 3: The Liberator Page 3