A Mage's Power (Journey to Chaos)

by Wilkerson, Brian

  She raised a rude finger. “How about a goodbye fist!?”

  “Tiza, calm down,” Basilard said.

  Though she refused to kiss Tej, she gladly shook his hand. Then Tej took advantage of the situation to pull her to him. She uppercutted his chin. Eric shook his head as Tej rubbed his jaw. The guy never learns. His knees buckled.

  Anuzat had placed a large bag over his own pack. She did likewise to the rest of Team Four, including Basilard. She herself carried twice as much in addition to her own.

  “Since my camels are gone, you have to fill in,” the merchant said, “Don't worry, I'll pay you extra.” Eric hoped it was a good deal extra because his back felt like it was going to break! For the second time, he wondered what kind of merchandise Anuzat was dealing in.

  I don't suppose you have some unusual remedy for heavy loads?

  Try thinking of something else.

  The gate opened and Team Four began their return journey. It was much harder with Anuzat's bag on his back; his feet sunk deeper, he felt off-balance, something inside smelled of iron. It was also harder to dodge monsters. Basilard, on the other hand, fought them off with ease. With him and a fresh supply of food, Eric decided this leg was still better than the last.

  Since he had nothing to lose, he took Dengel's advice and thought about something else. At first, his mind drifted to his friends in Ataidar, particularly Annala and how she'd look in that gold dress. He shook his head. He had more important things to think about than his pretty and sweet and FOCUS! It's been two weeks and I have no idea how to find Kasile! Dengel, do you know anything about rescues?

  Of course. I wrote a book on rescue operations for my glorious patron Emperor—Two hours passed before he stopped praising himself, his patron, and his students.

  Are you listening? Of course not; you are a child. I shall explain again: All living things possess life energy and constantly lose it, like a furnace burning a fixed amount of wood. A skilled mage could follow this 'exhaust' like a scent trail. There is also another method: If you spin your staff in a circle counter clockwise to the direction of the wind and then threw it up in the air, the direction it pointed when it fell would be the direction of the thing it was you were looking for.

  I don't buy that. Dengel laughed and said he told that to new students. Then he went on another long and rambling monologue and Eric fought to stay awake. Before he knew it, the dark blue sand changed to white gold. The sun was coming up and Anuzat was making a Sand Shelter.

  I'm one step closer to saving you, Your Highness.

  Do you mind telling?

  I'm really not supposed to.

  Eric, who am I going to tell?

  Your ladies-in-waiting.

  All right, if you must have secrets . . . Softer and tinged with sadness. Those CVs Threans use . . .what did you call them . . .'TVs'? Would you please tell me how they work again?

  Of course, Your Highness.

  Eric, what are you doing?

  I can still talk to Dengel? I thought I was in Kasile's mind.

  What are you doing!? Dengel's voice pounded like a drum.

  Eric, are you still there? Kasile's voice rang like bells.

  The pull of two voices gave him a headache. First, he told Kasile he was speaking with the person who would help him rescue her and second he told Dengel that he was talking with Ataidar's princess. That piqued the dead mage's interest.

  Tell me everything. Eric did. Hmm . . . telepathy is well-documented, but in all the cases I ever studied, it was between twins.

  Eric! What's going on!?

  The young mage hurriedly turned his attention back to Kasile and told her he was he discussing their link with the helper he told her about. It was like a three-way phone conversation: he could hear both of them but they could only hear him and only when he spoke to them.

  Does Kasile have a lover? Eric felt guilty talking about Kasile's love life behind her back but if he told her, it would embarrass her and frankly him as well.

  Two: a love triangle between Culmus and a noble named Siron. She's given her favor to—

  Her favor!? EXCELLENT! Applied Magecraft: Hostages describes the use of a personal article to track a target. The summary is thus: saturated with the target's life energy the article can be used as a homing device. With the handkerchief, we can find her exact location.

  Eric told Kasile the good news and she squealed with happiness. Afterward she blushed and coughed, and justified it as a side effect of their link. It wouldn't happen again. For the rest of the night, Eric planned with Dengel and kept Kasile updated on their progress.

  All the information they had to go on was that every Black Cloak was more powerful, in skill if not in spirit, than Eric himself. Dengel began rectifying this with intensive lessons. Studying soul-to-mind was more efficient than book-to-mind and Eric learned the theory behind several spells before the sun went down. Practice would come later, after breakfast and another grueling hike.

  Eric never thought he'd be happy to see the Yacian Caverns. They meant no more grabbing sand, no more sand in his shoes, his mouth, his nose, his eyes. They meant he was about a day away from Ataidar, and four days from its capital at Roalt. On the other hand, they meant C class monsters.

  At the entrance, he fidgeted. “What if those xethras attack us again?“

  Basilard placed a hand on his shoulder. “Don't worry, I'll be ready for them.” He smiled encouragingly. “You will too.” Eric beamed with pride and saluted.

  “You can count on me, Daylra!” Tiza snickered.

  “Time is money, remember?” Anuzat hopped in.

  Tiza followed close behind. One reason for their bond was their endless amounts of unfounded confidence. Eric sighed, pulled out a light stone, and followed.

  While the Kyraans stayed away from the Yacian Caverns, they still had maps of it, for which Eric was eternally grateful. He didn't want to go insane again to return home. Home . . . Since when was Tariatla his home!? He was bitten by the food and he was sure the cave moss was staring at him! He'd been attacked by monsters and traps and whatnot. Why in the world did I think of this place as home?

  I hope you are not asking me. I studied magic, not the human mind.

  No, I was just thinking to myself. What do you know about xethras?

  I know they have adapted to living in semi-darkness and can regenerate lost limbs. The best method of combat is to overwhelm their senses.

  Are there any other monsters as dangerous as the xethras in this cave?

  In my day, there were plenty. Eric shivered. Do not worry. I wrote The Definitive Guide to the Beasts of Yacian, the first comprehensive bestiary on the monsters of the Yacian Caverns. I know everything about them. There is no need for concern.

  If you say so.

  Of course . . . things might have changed since then . . .Eric stopped and Nolien bumped into him.

  “Eric, is something wrong?” the healer asked. “I know you're nervous, but Sergeant Basilard said not to worry. You'll wear yourself out.”

  Eric watched the shadows. “How long would it take for monsters to evolve?”

  “Micro or macro?”

  “Micro.”

  “Well, it varies depending on many conditions,” Nolien started and his tone became that of a schoolboy giving a presentation. “Catastrophes, mana storms, death and birth rates, The Trickster's mood, an environment that supports a new trait or traits—”

  “HOW LONG!?” Tiza shouted from ahead of them.

  Nolien scowled. “Anywhere from 'instantly' to 'upward of two thousand years'. Why?”

  “Oh . . .just wondering . . .” He trailed off. What was he supposed to say, 'if the scholar in my head is out of date?' “If the xethras evolved as fast as they regenerated.”

  Basilard chuckled. “There are monsters like that, but the xethras are not one of them.”

  Eric, calm your nerves by practicing that spell I showed you.

  Oh!..Right! Out loud, Eric said, “Daylra, could I
try a concealment spell?”

  That gave the senior a slight pause. “Concealment? . . . I haven't taught you those yet.”

  “I studied while you were asleep . . .and it was in the elemental category so . . .I thought . . .”

  Basilard shrugged. “Knock yourself out.”

  Eric held his staff straight out in front of him with both hands. “You guys might want to grab on. Otherwise you won't be able to see each other when I'm done.” Once he felt three hands and a paw he closed his eyes, measured out the necessary mana, and began:

  “In this darkest of nights, we shall escape all sights.” He felt an odd thrill of power at the words. “No fear of sword or bow or monster's might, shall we have in this lack of light! Dark Veil!”

  The darkness intensified until visibility was zero, then settled around them like a veil. Their own sight was unaffected, but if the spell worked, no one would be able to see them. However, that didn't mean they were undetectable.

  “For those who see with ear and nose, we shall now oppose. Draw away with breath that shows, all signs of the way we goes! Lupine Baffler!”

  The wind picked up and rustled their clothes. Then it settled. Everything inside Eric's reach was silent. With the darkness hiding them from sight and the wind carrying away their sound and scent, no one outside the perimeter should be able to see, hear, or smell them.

  “Why didn't you use those spells in these first place!” Anuzat shouted angrily. “Aren't you supposed to be an expert mage!? You could have saved my caravan!”

  “May we walk as we talk?” Anuzat gave him a nasty look before nodding. “Because, Miss Anuzat, if a concealment spell of any nature is used for a prolonged period of time, the drain on the mage's willpower will make them go insane. Their minds could become monster-like.”

  “Is that what happened to me?”

  “Not quite,” Nolien replied. “Your case was more of spell obsession.”

  “Would you prefer that I attack you, Miss Anuzat? In such a state, I wouldn't hesitate.”

  “Are you threatening me, Mercenary Leader?” Anuzat stood to her full height. “I was trained as a Kyraan warrior.”

  “Of course not, Miss Anuzat. That would be against guild policy. I was only pointing out why I would not use concealment spells.”

  Those spells were taking their toll on Eric. The Dark Veil was surprisingly easy to maintain, as easy as creating a barrier, but combined with the Lupine Baffler, his store of mana was quickly diminishing. Tunnel vision was setting in; the last thing he remembered before waking up in the desert. Basilard's walking lecture was a welcome distraction. Anuzat still didn't believe he couldn't use them.

  “To prevent mental status aliments, concealment spells should only be used by those that specialize in them. Otherwise they eventually wear off, lose effect, or be noticed themselves. Most important of all, monsters are unpredictable; they can be immune to cover spells and see past illusions. The point, Miss Anuzat, is that you can't rely on concealment.”

  “Would you have done it if I had ordered you to?” Anuzat asked. “Your job is protecting me.”

  “Yes, and to protect you, I would have insisted that my mana was saved for fighting. I am a fighter, Miss Anuzat; my magic is meant to fight monsters, not hide from them. My offensive spells can decimate B class, but at concealment I doubt I'm better than Eric.”

  Said mage wasn't sure whether to take that as an insult. No one had attacked them yet, but that might be due to a lack of monsters in the area.

  “Why don't you try using concealment? See if yours last longer than your student's.”

  “That would result in one of us temporarily losing our powers. Would it be worth it?”

  Anuzat turned away from him, saying nothing.

  Monsters passed and ignored them. Starfish flew over their heads and rodents scurried by their feet, completely oblivious of the sapients in their presence. Eric spotted another pack of xethras at the end of a tunnel, which moved on without noticing them. Anything that did slip by their ward was quickly dispatched by Basilard. That sword of his killed without a sound and left nothing behind but a dry husk. Tiza was enamored, Nolien intrigued, and Eric scared.

  After half an hour, Basilard relieved him. He gave Eric a three-hour break and they switched back and forth until Anuzat called a stop. By then Eric was mentally exhausted. He gratefully lay down and when he opened his eyes, he was in a dark void.

  He rubbed his eyes but the darkness remained. His first thought was that everyone's light stones had gone out so he pulled another from his pack and activated it. Princess Kasile lay next to him.

  She was sleeping. Her hair was combed and her dress pristine. No jewel or hint of make-up was anywhere in sight. She lay peacefully asleep in the void.

  Shrugging, he knelt by Kasile and gently shook her shoulder.

  “Princess.” She moaned in her sleep and rolled over. “Princess, it's me, Eric Watley.”

  Kasile slowly opened her eyes. When all she saw was darkness, she groaned. In a much brighter voice she said, “Is it morning already, Eric?”

  “Uh . . .Your Highness, turn around.” Kasile did and blinked fine eyelashes. Then she hugged Eric with enough force to knock him on his back.

  “Eric! It's so good to actually see you!” Eric mumbled likewise, too embarrassed to say anything else. Kasile's happiness dimmed and, still on top of Eric, she looked about. “Where are we?”

  “I-I d-don't know.” Suddenly the girl realized she was lying on him. Her own cheeks turned bright red and she scampered off.

  “I'm very, very sorry, Mr. Watley. I shouldn't have lounged like that. Forgive me.”

  “Your Highness, I said it was okay to call me 'Eric'.”

  She smiled. “Then you must call me “Kasile.' We know each other well enough by now.”

  “But Your Highness!”

  “You told me about the time you went to a museum, were wrapped up in toilet paper, and put on display as a mummy! Would you tell that to any less than a friend?”

  “But that was just to make you laugh!”

  “Of course,” Kasile continued, undaunted. “Friends cheer each other up when they need it.”

  “But . . .Your . . . Your Highness . . .” Eric protested helplessly.

  Kasile smiled mischievously. “I order you to call me ‘Kasile.’”

  With a smile of his own, Eric consented. “As you wish, Princess Kasile.” She gave him a royal whack on the arm. Rubbing said arm, he continued, “Well, I can't be dreaming. That hurt too much.”

  “And you call yourself a mercenary. Shame on you!”

  “Hey, I'm a battle mage, not a fighter.”

  There was nothing but darkness beyond the range of Eric's light stone: pure blackness as far as the eye could see. What they stood on looked no different from the space above their heads.

  Dengel, can you hear me?

  “There is no need to think here.” For the first time, Eric saw him.

  The dead mage was two heads taller than Eric and his golden-brown hair fell loose to his waist. His eyes were sharp, his nose slightly hooked, and, like all elves, his ears were pointed. However, they seemed longer than Quando's. He wore a cloak over a robe decorated with runes. He expected someone ancient, but Dengel didn't look a day over thirty.

  “This is a Union Point of Telepathic Empathy or UPTE.” Eric blinked. Dengel sighed. “A 'mental meeting room': a metaphysical location created by the union of your and the Princess' minds.”

  “Eric, what are you looking at?”

  If she can't hear Dengel, then of course she can't see him. “I'm talking with that friend I was telling you about. The one helping me plan your rescue.”

  “I see. I look forward to meeting them in person.”

  Eric turned away. “Uhh . . .He's more of an idea guy . . ..So . . .he won't be doing any of the actual rescuing, and he's pretty far away from Ataidar . . .” In a matter of speaking . . .

  “Eric . . .” Kasile sauntered to th
e battle mage and leaned in close. “I have a feeling you don't want me to meet this friend of yours.”

  “T-that's n-not it, Your . . .” Kasile wagged her finger. “ . . . Kasileness.” Eric wanted to smack himself for saying something so lame, but Kasile giggled. “It's just . . . I promised I wouldn't tell.”

  “Eric, since your budding relationship has created this space, we should put it to good use. Practice the theories I showed you earlier.”

  Grateful for the escape, Eric reached behind his back and said, “Oh! Right, good idea.”

  His staff appeared in his hands. Experimentally, he chanted the water spell and a ball of water appeared like normal. Likewise, wind appeared out of the gloom and earth arose from below him. When he was holding a rock above his head, Kasile spoke up.

  “Could you teach me that?”

  “Princess?”

  “Don't 'Princess' me!” Eric was so startled he lost his grip on the rock. It fell out of the sky and dropped on his head. “ . . .I mean . . .I would prefer you address me as 'student.'”

  Eric rubbed the new bump. “Teach you? Me? I can't teach anyone! I'm a student myself!”

  “Magical flower arranging,” Kasile deadpanned.

  “Huh?”

  “That was my last lesson from my current teacher. I want to learn mercenary magic.”

  “But I can't-”

  “'I'm just a student'.” Kasile finished. “Which is exactly why you should.”

  “Really?”

  “A teacher has to know their material and be confident with it. A student that takes on the role of a teacher takes on those qualities because they have to explain it in a way that their student will understand. By teaching me, you will know it better.”

  Eric grinned. If she was that determined . . . “All right, Kasile, I'll teach you.”

  Chapter 13 Good Help is Hard to Find

  “Dead center.”

  Hatred and bitterness shone like cold flames in Kasile's eyes. Her thirst for revenge manifested as fire darting from fingertip to fingertip. Before her, black cloaked apparitions smoldered.

  “Kasile, we need to talk.” She didn't hear him. “Kasile!” Still no response. Her bolts grew redder and faster with each shot. “Princess!” She stopped. The flames faded, her eyes cooled, and a hand rose to brush a stray strand of hair behind her ears. Eric dubbed it “polite princess mode.”