A Mage's Power (Journey to Chaos)

by Wilkerson, Brian

  “That would be your monster,” Nolien said dryly.

  A bird much bigger than the kind they had been messing with the past two days stalked the trees. Eric remembered it from his studies. It was called a “Cecri,” and the book warned its reader to hide as soon as they saw one. So this is why they hire mercenaries to collect poop.

  Cecri stood on two legs and dwarfed Threan cars. Its feet were long talons, but it was the sharp beak that caught Eric's attention. These natural blades were so strong and finely honed that they were used as weapons in Tariatla's antiquity. Cecri were dangerous carnivores and this one spotted them.

  “We should get the sergeant!” Nolien said, “We can't handle something like this.”

  “Are you kidding?” Tiza asked. Her sword and shield were already drawn. “This is what I've been waiting for!

  “But—” Nolien protested.

  “Too late!” Tiza shouted happily. “Here it comes!”

  Nolien groaned and reached for his staff. Eric pulled out his own, despite how much his hands shook. He was determined not to freeze and let his teammates do the fighting for him. The battle mage took a deep breath and prepared the barrier Tiza would need.

  Tiza meet the huge monster's charge head on. With a yell, she slashed its stomach, but was parried by its talons. The beak came down on her and a screen of solid light intercepted it. Eric grimaced at the impact and fell to his knees; his barrier dimpled and broke. Nolien's, however, gave Tiza enough time to plunge her sword in the monster's leg. It reared in pain and tried to rake her with its other leg, but Tiza dodged and stabbed that one too. The Cecri squawked in pain and fell backwards.

  Tiza lunged to finish it off, but the Cecri spat gooey liquid at her. Caught off guard, she took it full in the face and screamed in surprise. While she furiously rubbed the gunk out of her eyes, the monster stood on its injured legs and struck with both beak and talon. Nolien blocked the beak but Eric failed to stop the talon. It tore through his wall and struck her shield, lifting her off the ground and throwing her across the clearing. Her head collided with a tree and she went limp.

  “Eric!” Nolien yelled as he ran. “Keep that thing busy!”

  I have to fight this thing . . .alone!? Eric shook his head and steadied himself. He pointed his staff at the monster and concentrated. By channeling his mana through his staff, he could create a bolt far stronger than any he threw at Laharg. With a mental yell, he released the gathered energy at the monster.

  The Cecri was knocked off balance and squawked in confusion. It turned from the fallen Tiza and towards the new irritant. Nolien used the distraction to chant a healing spell. Eric fired another bolt and sent its head reeling. Feeling confident, he met the monster's eyes.

  Cold fear hit him like a tidal wave. He froze. Couldn't move, couldn't think; helpless. Forced to watch that murderous beak come slashing down—

  --and clang on a barrier. Eric blinked and the fear was gone. A sigh of relief shook his frame and his legs gave out. Nolien's staff glowed faintly as he channeled his power through it. Tiza sat next to him, shaking her head. The monster continued to peck and slash the barrier, squawking in confusion when it couldn't reach its prey. The screen of light cracked under the pressure.

  Tiza jumped on the monster's back and stabbed it. The Cecri let out a piercing shriek and all three dropped their weapons to cover their ears. The monster shook Tiza off its back and she dropped to the mud. It harpooned her. She rolled aside.

  Eric looked for his staff, but to his dismay, he saw three. The bird's shriek scrambled his mind. The Cecri stepped on Tiza's stomach to hold her in place. Eric lunged for a staff and grabbed air. In horror, he looked to the monster in time to see it strike.

  “To protect this friend of mine, make that monster blind! Dark Eye!” Darkness shot from Nolien's staff and covered the monster's face. It stopped an inch from Tiza's neck and squawked in confusion. Tiza was again forgotten in favor of its lost sight. Tiza wiggled from under its talon and scurried to her feet. Is that how spells work? Eric retrieved his staff and improvised a spell.

  “From its toe to its head make that monster dead! Death Spell!”

  Nothing happened except the monster heard him and darted in his direction. A mana bolt knocked it off balance. It ran toward Nolien and he ran to a new hiding place.

  “Attack!”

  Eric nodded and fired his own bolt. It changed course again and Tiza fired a bolt from her sword. The monster stopped and lumbered for her. She ran and Nolien fired a second time. They continued their guerrilla attacks until the monster was exhausted.

  “Tiza!” Nolien shouted. “Coup de grace!”

  Sword first, she charged, but slipped on a patch of mud. Her scream of surprise alerted the Cecri. It whirled to face her, talon raised. There was a sickening crunch of bone and a spray of blood when her sword slashed its foot. It shrieked in fury and jabbed with its beak. Tiza sidestepped and plunged her sword into its chest.

  Screams and blood flew through the air as the giant bird writhed in its death throes. Tiza jumped back to avoid its beak and talons. At last, it collapsed to the grass, blood pouring out of its wound and mixing with the mud. Its eyes glazed over.

  The three novices stood panting. They looked from the dead monster to each other and fell on their butts; exhilarated and exhausted.

  “Now that . . .” Tiza started after several moments. “. . . Was MUCH more fun than collecting bird poop!” Her shout broke Eric's trance and he threw up. “What's the matter!?” Tiza shouted, her cheeks flushed. “Haven't you ever seen guts before?”

  Nolien fixed a look on her. “You do realize we could have died, don't you?”

  “Of course! That's what makes it fun!”

  “Adrenaline junkie,” Nolien muttered.

  “Indeed you are,” A fourth voice said.

  Their sergeant and mentor, Basilard Bladi, pulled Tiza's sword out of the corpse.

  “Hey, Daylra! That's my sword, you know!” Tiza shouted. “I killed the monster!”

  “Clumsily, I might add,” Basilard said as he returned it. “And you killed it together.”

  “Hey! It's still dead!” Tiza protested.

  “You could have killed it faster, and with less risk, if you had a plan! Instead, you charged in like a jelly-minded glory seeker. I thought Sathel taught you better than that.”

  Tiza reddened. “Uh . . .well . . .”

  “That kind of thinking will never make you a Regular.”

  Tiza lowered her even redder face, then it shot up. “Hey! If you knew how I attacked, then you must have been here the whole time!”

  Basilard smiled grimly. “That's right. If it weren't for Nolien, all of you would be dead.”

  “But!” Tiza protested.

  “Nolien blinded it, healed you after your rush . . .”

  “I was fine!”

  “ . . . and created a strategy to finish it off,” Basilard finished. “What you did was dangerous, however, you are not the only one to blame.” Tiza regained a little confidence and sat back to watch.

  “Eric.” Eric felt cold inside. “You are a battle mage. You're supposed to provide Tiza with cover fire! Leave the shielding to Nolien. Never, ever, look a monster in the eye; they'll freeze you with killing intent. That was in Dengel's book!”

  Eric looked down. “Yes, Daylra.” He wished the Cecri had killed him; it wouldn't hurt this much.

  “Nolien,” Basilard called.

  “But Daylra, you said I did everything right.”

  “True, but not fast enough,” Basilard said. “It doesn't matter if you know what to do, if you don't do it fast enough! I know for a fact Tsilaer taught you pragmatism, so why didn't you use it? Mercenary healers do more than heal; blinding the monster should have been the first thing you did because it would decrease the likelihood of injury.”

  Nolien reddened, but he didn't lower his eyes like Eric did. “I understand, Daylra.”

  Basilard paused and all they could hear was hi
s breathing and the pitter-patter of rain.

  “Now . . . are you two finished?” The boys shook their heads. “Finish and we'll leave. Tiza, while you're waiting, you can wash up.” Before she could protest, he continued, “You won't be allowed inside the castle covered in mud and monster blood.” Tiza grumbled all the way to the river.

  As Eric and Nolien went back to poop collecting, the battle mage reflected on the battle and how useless he was in it. Battle mage, battle! It was his very title and he forgot. All he did was put up useless barriers and get frozen by killing intent. Another battle like that and he'd die.

  Hours later, Team Four returned to Roalt. At the castle's curtain wall, they saw a pair ahead of them: a boy and girl standing just inside the drawbridge.

  The first to catch Eric's attention was the girl. A silver circlet rested on her forehead above stunning gold eyes. Her hair was brown, streaked with fire red, and flowed down her back and against a pink dress. Trimmings ran over the bodice and skirts like tendrils of fire. A ruby necklace cast as flame rested against her throat. Her long fingers were clasped in white gloves that reached her elbows. They held an umbrella over her head. Eric couldn't help but stare. Nolien pinched him.

  “Stop!” he whispered. “That's her Royal Highness Princess Kasile Landros Ataidar!”

  “I thank you for escorting me today,” Kasile said to her companion. Eric thought it was a silly literary cliché for beautiful girls to have beautiful voices, but now it seemed like honest fact.

  The other figure took the princess' hand and kissed the back of her palm. This boy had rough purple hair and three scars on his face. His grey eyes were fierce like they'd seen as much battle as Basilard, but no more years than Eric had. His jacket and pants were a testament to this as was the light armor on his right shoulder and left hand.

  “Your Highness, it is my honor to be your bodyguard. Whenever you need me I'll be at your side in an instant.” The most distinctive part of this boy was the zanpatou on his back; a sword big enough to slay both rider and horse in one stroke.

  Tiza chuckled. “Someone's compensating.” Eric chuckled with her. Nolien didn't.

  The boy spun around and death glared. “I'll have you know that this sword is so heavy it can crush golems! Carrying it is strength training! A regular sword could never do that!“ His whole body relaxed when a gloved hand touched his shoulder. “Forgive my outburst, princess.”

  “It's all right. I'd be mad if I heard similar jokes.” Eric melted all over again.

  “If you two lovebirds would get out of the way,” Tiza sneered and their cheeks pinked. “We have a mission to complete!”

  “Ah yes, she is quite right.” Basilard said. “See you at home, Culmus.”

  Culmus slowly stepped away from Kasile, faced the Dragon's Lair, and walked away. “Yeah, see you there,” he called over his shoulder.

  Kasile stared after him and Basilard coughed. She blushed briefly, made eye contact, and apologized for ignoring them. When she saw Eric, she gasped. If he didn't know better, he'd have thought she recognized him. “You must be the Otherworlder . . .” Her voice lacked any sense of formality. “Eric Watley.” Eric was too flustered to realize this.

  “Uh . . .um, yes. Yes . . . Your Highness. I am.”

  “How'd you know?” Basilard asked casually, “He didn't introduce himself.”

  Now the princess was flustered. “Oh . . .he's the talk of the town.” She regained her composure and smiled winningly. “It's not every day an Otherworlder comes to Ataidar. I love a good gossip.”

  Tiza coughed out, “Liar.” Nolien nudged her.

  “Forgive her, Your Highness. She has a cold and has been coughing all day.”

  “Oh dear, I hope you get better soon,” Kasile said to Tiza.

  “Your Highness is too kind,” Nolien said.

  “It was nice running into you, Your Highness, but we have a mission to complete.” Basilard bowed. “By your leave.”

  Eric walked to the Apothecary's office on autopilot. His mind was filled with thoughts of Kasile. Her beauty imprinted itself on his mind and he saw her brilliance over and over again. He didn't wake up until he bumped into Tiza.

  “Watch it, Dimwit,” she said and Eric apologized.

  The Apothecary’s attendant let them in and the novices put down their burdens. The Apothecary jumped down from her seat, ran across the floor, and climbed to the crate's top. She looked like household vermin invading a pantry and Eric fought the urge to chuckle. His teammates did not. Right . . .This is normal. The apothecary unscrewed a jar, stuck her paw in, and tasted the poop. Now Eric fought the urge to gag.

  “Are they full enough, ma'am?” Basilard asked.

  “Yes.” She snapped her claws and her attendant gave Basilard a number of bags. “Your pay, 50 gold per bottle, as promised.”

  Basilard closed his eyes, and when he opened them, they glowed. A moment later, he blinked again. “A pleasure doing business with you, ma'am. Thank you for choosing the Dragon's Lair.”

  The delivery and payment were all the proof Eric needed to confirm his suspicions from the previous day. There was so much distrust between Castle dwellers and Lair dwellers that they checked every exchange for deceit. The Apothecary made no attempts to hide her inspection and Basilard freely admitted to his novices that he used a spell to inspect the bags. Forget fantasy novel, Tasio pulled me into Shakespeare!

  Curious as always, he asked how falsehood vision spells worked: Basilard didn't use words or gestures. Nolien explained, with badly hidden amusement, that their mentor didn't need any of that for his magecraft. He was a Greater Mage; all he needed was the Three Laws. Lesser Mages like himself and Eric were the ones that needed focusing tools.

  “Haven't you been reading that book I gave you?”

  Eric blushed. “Oh . . .um . . . well . . .” The truth was he hadn't touched it since his failure.

  “Keep at it.” Basilard said, “If you have trouble all you need to do is ask.”

  “Yes, I know.” Eric said, so softly he could barely hear himself.

  The mission had done nothing but remind him he was a loser. I failed at collecting poop. Nolien being worse was lost on him. I failed a simple fire spell . . . The fact that he hadn't been formally taught fire spells escaped him. I made countless mistakes fighting the Cecri . . .He didn't remember that the others made mistakes. And I'm ignorant of common knowledge. He even forgot he was an Otherworlder and thus ignorant of a lot of common knowledge.

  Basilard walked into the guild lobby. “Mission Accomplished.“

  “Wonderful!” Mia said. Her infectious cheer made Eric feel better despite his thoughts. She collected the fee from Basilard with one hand and speed typed on her desktop with the other.

  “Hey!” Tiza shouted. “When are we getting paid!?”

  “Now of course.” Mia said. She counted out three piles of coins. “There you go.”

  “This is it?” Tiza and Nolien chorused.

  “Well yeah.” Mia said with a tilt of her head. “Novices aren't paid as much as Regulars or Seniors because they haven't earned it yet.”

  “So in addition to getting smaller jobs,” Nolien said, “we also get smaller pay?”

  “Yep!” Mia chirped. “Keep in mind that most of the guild's novices still live with their families.” First she looked to Tiza. “They are not street urchins,” Then Nolien. “Runaways,” Finally Eric. “Or Otherworlders. They don't move out until they're Regulars, if then.”

  Basilard ruffled her hair and she giggled. “I need to write the mission report; Old Man Aaloon will want it before long. Meet me in the training hall in half an hour.”

  Chapter 7 The Joust

  The following weeks were less exciting; babysitting, picking up trash, running errands. Eric didn't care because they paid his rent and filled his belly. His teammates on the other hand . . .

  “This is a waste of my time!” Nolien grumbled as he washed a pair of pants.

  Team Four's newest cl
ients were a family of painters and their newest job was doing their laundry. When Eric asked about washing machines, the painters said they didn't bother; separating the cotton from non-cotton, the whites from the colors, lights from darks, and what about something that was all three? Not to mention the machines were rough on their clothes. They usually did it all by hand.

  The opening joust refused them such a luxury. Every jock who thought he could carry a lance and ride a horse was going to be there and all of them wanted a brand new custom crest to show off. They had to work overtime to finish all their orders.

  It was a beautiful spring day with just the right balance of wind to sun. If Eric weren’t working, he would have laid down on the grass and taken a nap. Instead, he dumped out his dirty wash water.

  “At least by collecting poop, I could learn about medicinal materials and provide healing in case of attack, but this!?” Nolien yanked the pants out. “Real servants do this and are paid more for it!”

  “That's why those who can't afford full-time servants hire us.” The sergeant of Team Four was lying in the shadow of their client's house. Instead of reading his book, it lay on his face.

  “Didn't you say our first mission was a waste of time as well?” Nolien blushed and fumbled.

  “Hindsight is wonderful, isn't it?”

  Tiza beat a rug as if it were a monster. She tore every scrap of clothing she touched so Basilard reassigned her, apologized to their clients, and assured them that the Dragon's Lair would reimburse them or pay for repairs. Unlike the seamstress from last week, they told him not to worry about it.

  Caring for babies, wearing dresses, washing clothes, Eric thought as he scrubbed yet another shirt. The connection is obvious: traditional female roles. Of course, it was no secret that Tiza was the opposite of feminine, but if she were simply a tomboy, why the intense hate for all things girly? What could cause her to hate dresses so much she would forfeit pay to avoid wearing one?

  “There are two things Men will never understand,” Basilard said. “Chaos and Women.”

  “Another quote from the Founder?” Eric asked.