A Mage's Power (Journey to Chaos)

by Wilkerson, Brian

  “Not yet! Dimwit! Get me a blaze over here!”

  Eric shrugged and chanted the spell. The first three times he produced nothing. Tiza raised her hand to smack him, but Anuzat caught her wrist and shook her head. Reluctantly, Tiza lowered it. On the fourteenth attempt, Eric produced a ball of flame the size of an acorn. It burned the skirt to ash.

  “Tiza, why do you . . ..” He trailed off at the sight of her scowl. “ . . .Waste your time with me when you could be proving what an amazing fighter you are to the locals?”

  Tiza looked up to Anuzat. “Can I?”

  “What else is a Warrior's Lodge for?”

  Tiza smiled brightly and exclaimed, “Then what are we waiting for? Where is it? Where is it?”

  The kangaroo took the over-eager fighter by the hand and guided her to the site where she would steal everyone's bragging rights. Everyone has a friend but me. His staff grew slightly warm in his hands, but he didn't notice. With nothing else to do, he checked on Basilard. Inside the Sun and Moon Tent, he sat before the Healer.

  “How is he?”

  She was hunched over Basilard and spreading cream over his wounds. “He is fine, young one. I have healed the remaining physical wounds but others remain.”

  “What kind?”

  “His soul is bruised from clashing with many powerful spirits. Wounds of such nature are hard to heal.” The cream smelled of mint and spring water. “This is a man of exceeding spiritual power. What could have done so much harm to a warrior so strong?”

  “A pack of xethras.” Eric said softly.

  “Don't be ashamed.” The healer said kindly. “There was nothing you could have done. Xethras are far too strong for a young one such as yourself.”

  “I know . . .”

  “I see foreign blood. I assume the second was not so lucky.”

  “He . . . he wasn't.”

  “A friend of yours?”

  The dam broke. Through the flight through the fusion spell through the desert and the Stone Pile, he had to keep moving or he would die. In this calm moment, it all unraveled. He cried and bawled and shook. “He was (sob) my best friend! My best friend he . . . he died . . .darkness!”

  The healer took him in her arms and patted his back. “There, there, dearie, it wasn't your fault. You saved your team and client. That's something to be proud of.”

  “But my best friend!”

  “I know, dearie, I know.” He clung to the healer until he ran out of tears. He blurted everything: their first meeting, the strange late night visit, Aio's death.

  Eric sniffed. “All . . . all I have . . .is a clump of ashes.”

  “May I see them?” Eric froze. “I am a holy woman, dearie; I can bless them.” With great care, he removed the jar from his pack. “I see . . . such a tragedy . . .” Her eyes twinkled. “Would you like to get stronger? Strong enough to prevent another such tragedy?”

  Eric backed up. “Where are you going with this?”

  The healer smiled mysteriously. “I take it you've heard of Dengel?”

  Of course, Eric had heard of Dengel; he wrote Introduction to Magecraft AND The Spirit and Its Power. A legendary mage who lived two thousand year ago who codified magecraft as it was used today. Every mage since owed him a debt. “He too came here seeking the help of my ancestor.”

  This stoked his suspicion. Historical records did say that Dengel came to Kyraa, but for research when he was old and established. On the other hand, those records were silent in regards to his youth. The opportunity to be like him was too tempting to pass up.

  “I can give you what my ancestor gave him but first you must prove yourself. I can't give power of this level to anyone, you understand.”

  Eric nodded eagerly. “Of course. What is it?”

  “There is a certain something in the Altar of Rebirth. I want you to get it for me.”

  “So there is something there. Elder Akag said it was empty.”

  The shaman picked up two cups. “Of course he did. It's not something we like to advertise, shrine robbers you know. Water?”

  Eric accepted one of them and drank from it. “Thank you. Then why tell me about it?”

  “You remind me of Dengel.” She took a sip. “He was a boy with a lot of potential, but lacked the confidence to make use of it. I feel I can trust you.” She placed the cup between them. He followed suit. Do we have a deal?” She offered him the hand that wasn't holding Aio.

  Eric grabbed it. “Yes! How do I get it!? . . .What is it, anyway?”

  “I'll leave that up to you—both questions. To prove yourself.”

  “How am I supposed to find what you want if you won't tell me what it is?”

  “How can I help you if you insist on holding my hand?” Eric looked from the old woman's face, to their still clasped hands, and back again.

  “Was that literal or metaphorical?” One never could tell with mythic types.

  “Both.”

  Eric dropped the hand and scooted away. “Nothing? Not a single hint?”

  She shook her head. “All I will say is this: you must do it on your own.”

  “Can I have my friend back at least? He's emotional support.”

  “Do you want me to do the blessing?” . . . A blessing is the least I can do after failing him.

  Finding a hidden entrance to a secret shrine would take time. He'd burn up with the clothes he had now. Fortunately, cloaks were non-warrior attire. His next objective was finding replacements for his magecraft.

  Inside the item shop next door, he found magic scrolls, a grappling hook, and smaller versions of the light stones Anuzat's giants used. He almost bought a whip, but stopped himself just in time. Why would I need a whip to search for treasure in an ancient shrine?

  First, he checked the altar. It was as good a place as any but after twelve minutes of tapping stones and poking burned incense, he was no closer to finding an entrance. This could be harder than I thought. He circled the mound of sand on which Tiza had fought. The sand mound was in the center of the Shrine's lap, which was in the center of the crater, which was in the center of the desert; the sand mound the center of the desert. Maybe it's too obvious, or maybe they're expecting raiders to think it's too obvious or maybe I'm expecting them to expect that it's too obvious . . .Arg! I'm just gonna do it! Eric dived into the sand mound. All he got for his trouble was a bump on the head and sand up his nose.

  Okay, that was stupid. He rubbed his head and sneezed. Systematically, he picked areas to poke or stomp. There has to be a secret entrance or trap door somewhere. After hours of searching, he made a discovery: the shrine's architects were smarter than he was.

  As the sun went down, so did his spirits. He took a swig from his water bottle and his hand drifted to Aio's pocket. He didn't feel the jar. A chill seeped up his arm, but then he remembered. He slumped and put his head in his hands. What am I doing? This is a waste of time. Images flashed: Aio dying in a cave; Kasile tied up in a sack; Tiza wounded. He stood up and continued his search.

  The remaining stairs, then the base, and the back of the shrine, but he found nothing. He threw his grappling hook up to the shrine's peak and climbed hand over hand and still he found nothing. Night fell; dark and cold and his stomach growled.

  Eric stomped the ground in frustration. “ABYSS TAKE IT! WHERE IS THE ENTRANCE!?”

  The central mound flashed. An energy pulse slid along the floor. Back and forth through the sand mound, the altar, up and over the Shrine and round and round the base. Its final resting place was the ninth stair from the bottom and three quarters from the right. The stair glowed with a steady light.

  I could've sworn I checked that stair . . . He stepped on it and energy surged into his body. This is it! He placed his other foot on the tile and the feeling grew to the point of pain. The world dropped out from under him and darkness consumed everything.

  Wind rushed past; he was free falling. At this speed, I'll be a pancake! He reached in his pack and pulled out a scroll. Unfurling
it, he slammed his hand on the flapping inscriptions.

  “ACTIVATE!” Winds rushed out of the paper and slowed his fall. Come on! Come ON! More winds joined the first. His descent slowed and slowed until he crashed.

  Owwww . . . Eric rubbed his sore rear. All right, where am I? The floor was made of white stone and glowed faintly in the darkness. The dim light was strangely comforting. He reached into his pack again, put the wind scroll away, and felt for a light stone. Nothing but white ground and black sky in every direction. I guess I'll take a page from Tiza's book. He walked straight ahead.

  He counted the paces in his head, and at five thousand, he found a door. Finally. It was solid metal with a rune engraved on the center and a dragonhead doorknocker beneath. The knob didn't budge. I'm not looking for another door. This place, wherever it is, could go on for miles.

  He raised his light stone to examine the rune: swirly lines from eleven directions entwined at the middle. Now he wished he paid more attention to Basilard's lecture. The novice mage sat down and pulled out Introduction to Magecraft . . . Let's see . . .Recitations, Reversals, Rutabagas? . . . Here we go . . . “Runes and their Meanings.” He flipped to the chapter and found a section specifically about Kyraan runes. There were many similar to the one on the door but there were too many lines, more shapes, different directions, or some other detail. The meaning could be Tornado, Creation of the World, Noodles . . .This is pointless. The frustrated mage slammed the book shut.

  Why not? He grabbed the ring in the dragon's mouth. It burned his hand and he screamed in pain. He withdrew and blew on it. Then he looked at the dragonhead again. The ring was attached to the upper snout and hung directly in front of the mouth where flames would come. Instead of the ring, he placed his hand in the dragon's mouth and it slowly closed. Eric sweated bullets. If I'm right, I'll be one step closer to Dengel's power. If I'm wrong . . . He gulped . . .I'll be known as One-Handed Eric.

  Something slick moved across his hand. That's impossible! It's a statue! Then he felt the teeth. He flinched and drew his hand back on instinct. The teeth clamped further. Eric bit his tongue to keep from screaming and held perfectly still as the statue's tongue moved over his hand. Finally it stopped. The mouth opened and he heard a click. He tried the knob again. Well, what do you know . . .

  He stepped inside the door and plucked his hand into mouth. Dragons are a proud people, but they would respect others under certain conditions and one of them was mental strength. He suspected the dragonhead might be a judge, so he didn't want to show weakness.

  The door led into a narrow tunnel that sloped slightly downwards. It reminded him of the Yacian Caverns, which reminded him of the xethras and Aio. His free hand drifted to his pack. There was a thud and the sound of something rolling. He looked over his shoulder and—You've gotta be kidding! A giant boulder picked up speed!

  His hand left his mouth, the light stone went in, and he ran as fast as he could from Huge-Rolling-Death. Please be earth, please be earth! One look at the scroll's insignia made his heart leap. He unfurled the scroll and slammed his hand against the inscriptions. Turning around, he shouted, “Acmtp!!” The light stone was still in his mouth!

  He spat out the stone. The boulder crushed it and plunged him into absolute darkness.

  “Activate!” Something burst out of the scroll and collided with the boulder. The recoil knocked him off his feet and he skidded on his back. The rock crashed and jolted the scroll from his hands. He slowed to a crawl and hit his head on the exit. Owww! He rubbed the new bump.

  Well, that's one problem solved . . . He fumbled for another light stone. The boulder was now wedged in the entrance by the stone pillar his scroll summoned from the floor . . . And another one made. He sighed and flopped on the floor. Onward and forward, I guess.

  He retrieved the scroll and returned to the door. It was bare; no runes, no dragonheads, just a metal plank and knob. It looked so bare it made Eric nervous. He ran the light stone over every inch and surrounding stone but found nothing. He shrugged and tried the knob.

  Huh. Sometimes, I guess it's just that easy.

  A large green crystal hung from the ceiling and illuminated the center of the room. Under this spotlight was a stone pedestal and beyond was the domain of darkness. Eric approached cautiously. The pedestal had a plaque.

  If you've come this far,

  You must be committed,

  But how far does your resolve go?

  How do I prove my resolve to a plaque? A crusty, blackish smear crossed the bottom. The hand the dragon bit was still bleeding. He rubbed it beneath the first smear and then wrapped it up with spare cloth from his pack. New characters above his smear:

  That far huh?

  Let's see you prove it.

  Gears groaned and a gate opened. Out of the darkness came a creature that looked eerily like Laharg; a blue-skinned orc twice his height with intimidating muscle mass, but this one was worse. Its eyes glowed red, it was covered in spiked battle armor, and bared a bloody ax. Eric shivered. An energy; a sensation; a malice; the orc's desire to kill him filled the room. He reached into his pack.

  The orc roared and charged. Eric drew his scroll and shouted, “Activate!”

  A ball of fire slammed into the orc, but didn't break its stride. Eric fired again and the orc charged through the blaze with white hot armor. Does this guy feel pain at all?!

  The orc roared and its battle aura intensified. It forced Eric to his knees just as the ax came swinging down. Move! Move! Abyss Take It! MOVE! The ax sliced the stone a moment after he rolled away. The orc roared and pulled its ax back for another swing. Eric forced himself to his feet, mind racing. Fire's no good! Now what?! He jumped aside as the orc took its second swing. His legs felt like they were made of lead. Steel's vulnerabilities . . . Duck. Dart between spiked legs. Pat out fire on clothes. The water scroll! Eric's hand darted to his pack. The orc spun with the ax head down. Adrenaline pumping through his veins, he pulled out the first scroll he touched.

  “Activate!”

  A stone column emerged from the floor and caught the orc in the stomach. It smashed the monster into the ceiling and grinded it through the rock before slamming it into the corner. Pinned in place it was harmless. Whatever works. Eric shrugged and walked back to the pedestal.

  You're not done yet.

  Turn around.

  Eric's blood ran cold as he read the second line. He ducked and the ax whizzed over his head. He spun around and activated the earth scroll again but the orc sliced it down the middle. Line by line the scroll's text disappeared until the mage held a blank sheet of paper. This is what I get for using instant! He reached for another scroll, turned midstride and fired hot air. He groaned at another misgrab.

  At least it's keeping the orc at bay. He reached again, made sure it was water, unfurled it. The wind was weakening and the orc was advancing on him. The armor had cooled from white to red.

  “Activate!” A torrent of water gushed from the scroll and enveloped the orc. Eric heard a number of satisfying cracks and creaks. He furled the scroll and reached for another. Healing!? The third disadvantage of scrolls: they're expensive. He was only able to buy one of each. The only items left in his pack were his hook, rocks, food, and water.

  Where's the Fire Scroll!? He saw it near the pedestal and dashed with the orc in pursuit. The mage lunged just as the orc struck. The ax clattered behind him and re-cocked. Taking careful aim, Eric fired. He only got in one shot before he had to dodge another swing. He got to his feet and fired a second shot. He jumped over the fallen stone column and fired a third. The ax radiated white heat. He switched to the water scroll and unleashed another torrent before ducking behind the column. The ax contracted and snapped explosively, showering the room in debris. Shrapnel clanged off his shelter and flew over his head. The orc was without a weapon.

  Destroying the ax cost him his last two scrolls. He threw them away and took out his staff. Looks like it's just you and me. The staff grew warm in respon
se.

  The orc jumped over the column and bellowed. It was without armor or hand-held weapon, but orc skin was armor in and of itself and orc hands were as good as clubs. Eric's best bet was to go for vulnerable spots, but there was only one in reach. The staff sent a vibe of disgust, but Eric told it that if he died it would be broken and used a toothpick.

  He met the orc's charge, ducked to the inside of a swing, and shoved his staff between its legs. It stopped, looked down, and growled. Of all the orcs in the world, I have to fight a EUNUCH! The orc grabbed his chest and lifted him above its head. Eric whacked him with his staff, but knew it was useless. He'd seen Laharg walk off gaping wounds, but it was all he could do.

  The orc squeezed. Without the helm, Eric could see it smiling wickedly. His ribs groaned under the pressure. His staff fell limp at his side. This is . . . it . . .

  His vision went dark.

  Instead of the abyss, the darkness turned into a movie screen. Have you forgotten? The screen's narrator asked. The screen showed Kasile tied up in a sack and being force fed garbage. It showed Tiza fighting Kyraan warriors and Nolien making antidotes. Have you forgotten them? They who are depending on you? It showed his friends in Ataidar studying for an exam. Or them? They who are waiting for your safe return? It showed Aio dying in the Yacian Caverns. Or him? The reason you are here in the first place? HAVE YOU FORGOTTEN!?

  NO! His eyes snapped open. There was enough air left in his lungs for one more strike. He raised his staff and it glowed with resolve. With a mental yell, he brought it down with an almighty crack! The orc stopped squeezing. Its eyes rolled back and it toppled backwards like a fallen tree.

  Air tasted so good after nearly suffocating; different from his first breath of this world but sweet nonetheless. It made him giddy and light-headed. And the wasp defeats the lion!

  Once he regained his breath, he wondered how he was going to escape his fallen foe. The death grip of an orc was as good as a tomb. He was considering using his staff as a crow bar when the orc vanished. It glowed, became transparent, and vanished. As happy as Eric was to escape, it was undercut by his bruised ribs' sudden contact with the hard floor. Owwow!