“Since you know how to hide, you should know how to seek. Today, I will teach you Magic Sight.” . . . And there it went; all his excitement leaked out a balloon.
The lecture: mana was the basis of all magecraft, but only in high concentrations could it be seen. This meant spells were invisible unless they produced visible effects. Magic Sight made all spells visible because it enabled the user to see the mana fueling them. It was primarily used to detect runes.
Any given object could be enchanted with a rune for magical effects. This could turn a helmet into protection against sleep sleeps or that same helmet into a trap that would cause sleep on any who put it on. All Squad Three Regulars were required to tell the difference.
He is right. Any mage worth their mana knows how to perceive it in spells.
“If you say so.,” Eric muttered.
“Good. Magic Sight works like this . . .”
So began a second lecture about the mechanics of Magic Sight: knowledge of how eyesight worked combined with mana and the willpower to change how it worked. Once the Q&A was over, Eric tried the spell himself.
“Don't be disappointed if you fail the first time; it's a difficult spell when you first learn it.”
All spells are difficult when first learned.
Eric didn't exactly fail the first time; he cast a blinding spell. Tiza took a break from dummy sparring to laugh at him and Nolien had to stop working to cover a sudden coughing fit. Eric flushed with shame. Basilard cast a sight spell and consoled him.
“Not bad for a first try.”
“You're just saying that . . .”
“No really. When I first tried, I made myself color blind. That's a lot harder to reverse. For days I couldn't tell water from pee.” He made a face. “It was something Retina took advantage of.” Eric smiled despite his lingering shame. “Ready to try again?”
“With charms deep and snide, my foes may try to hide. With curses fierce and dark, cut me deeper than The Shark. Reveal to me what's truly there, allow me to see and stare. Magic Sight!”
His staff flashed and the world changed. A smile blossomed on his face. A solid brown light coated the Training Hall and within that light were intricate chains of characters. Similar chains webbed his mentor's clothes: his tunic, his earring, and, most intricate of all, his scabbard.
“I take you got it right this time. What you see are runes. They are permanent spell diagrams made for lasting effect. They were interwoven into the fabric of my clothes and carved into the guild's structure. Unless the rune is physically broken, the spell remains intact.”
Most interesting of all was Tiza's hair. Basilard's and Nolien's were dim but Tiza's shined. Curiously, the shine followed the streaks of dirt and grime. Eric decided it was a magical/biological girl thing, like higher voice and breasts. It wouldn't be the weirdest thing he'd seen in this world.
“Eric, are you listening?” Basilard asked. “There are runes that can only be broken in certain ways. I want you to identify twenty for a test.”
“Are you gonna tell me when it is?”
“No. You might cram and forget them all within an hour. We're moving on to Magic Hearing.”
After Eric demonstrated that he could turn both Magic Senses on and off, Basilard excused him from training so he could study. Eric had other ideas: lunch for one and selling off his loot for another.
On his way to the mess hall, he ran into Noisop again. He kept the poison maker at staff's length and his mouth firmly shut. Noisop left him alone for less wary prey.
After spending three months on Tariatla, its food had completely lost its zing. As the theory stated, he'd adapted to its mana level. He still enjoyed the sauces he could put on his burger. First Objective accomplished, he thought as he put his tray away. Now for Objective Number Two.
He said goodbye to Mia and left the guild. Alf and Meg were still hanging from the entrance. Despite groaning and slipping, they taunted each other.
Down the street from the guild was the bridge leading to the Orange Town of Sea and Sunset. This was his home; made of the stone and steel of the bridge itself. The room came with a small shower and sink hooked up to the river below the floor. In the back was a desk and lamp where he studied magecraft. Next to the desk was a small fridge with a microwave on top. Two months ago, they fascinated him: the fridge made from ice elemental stone called “craggy ice” and the microwave “solid fire,” but now he passed them for the bags at their side.
The day Eric moved in, he discovered the bags of junk. The bridge house came with them. Sometimes he looked on a whim and found useful odds and ends, such as an old listening crystal and flat song stones. Right now, the only bag that interested him was his travel pack. With the loot in tow, he traveled to the Yellow Town of Trade and Creativity.
Out of curiosity, and to ease his guilt at playing hooky, he looked at the stores with his Magic Sight. Whether they were businesses, homes or both they shared runes in common. These were called “wards” because they were designed for protection: fire, thieves, evil spirits, etc. They were all he could see because the other wards were made to counter Magic Sight and Magic Hearing. Curiosity was his best trait so he decided to test them.
It wasn't the same awe-inspiring experience as new eyes, but it was still shocking: he heard every conversation in the crowd because he hadn't set limits. Only after reciting the limiting words could he think clearly again. Eavesdropping on specific conversations was a fun way to pass the time to the pawnshop. Then a sound blew into his ear that chilled him to the bone.
“Wind! Hear me as I plead!” He placed one hand over his chest and pointed the other at his feet. “Give me the speed I need!”
Two balls of wind engulfed his feet and a third sank into his chest. He dashed through the commercial district with winged feet and an expanded lung capacity. Dengel demanded to know where he learned that spell and the mage replied that he just made it up. To increase his speed he needed to improve his heart, lung, and leg muscles and to do all three at—
Look out!
Eric jumped with all his might and barely cleared the wall. He stumbled on the landing and almost zoomed into an apple tree. Swerving to the right, he skimmed two merchant carts, five pedestrians in a crosswalk and a turtle taxi that shouted rude things at him. Screams of “Trickster's Choice!” followed him to his destination. He took the stairs entire flights at a time, pivoting at the end to jump to the next. He reached the top in a fraction of the time it took him earlier. The front door was unlocked, but the door to the office was not.
“I don't have time for this!”
Eric fired mana bolts and the door absorbed them. He activated his Magic Sight and saw a rune hiding in the middle. He crossed it out, blew the door open, and his fears were confirmed.
Annala squirmed helplessly on the floor. Her wrists and ankles pulled against invisible bounds while she frantically back away. She gasped for breath in a ruffled collar squeezing her neck. The terror in her eyes drew Eric like a magnet, but Tahart stood in his way.
“You didn't see anything,” the orc insisted. “Turn around and walk away.”
“Like abyss I'll walk away!” Eric pointed his staff. “You on the other hand, need to move!” He gathered mana at the tip. “Now!”
Tahart smiled crookedly. “You're a mercenary, right?” He reached into his pocket. “How about some gold for your silence?”
“I may be a mercenary, but you can't buy me!”
Everything went black. He could not see, hear, nor do anything. No! Not now! He struggled to wake up, but something weighed him down. Annala needs me! Bit by bit, he felt it give way ...
“Eric!” Annala's voice echoed in the darkness, full of pain and hurt. “How could you!?” An image of flashed; Laharg crushing Annala with the power of his spirit. That was the first time he heard her scream like that. Now another orc was about to do worse.
NO!
Eric opened his eyes and saw the exit. One hand was on the doorknob and in the
other was a moneybag. It was the heaviest he had ever held and he stared at it in confusion.
“Eric!” Annala cried again, really truly cried. It broke Eric's heart. “Come back!”
Eric dropped the bag and spun around. Tahart was on top of her. One meaty claw gripped the dress's hem while the other held her chin. Rage unlike anything Eric had ever felt erupted within him. He wanted this orc dead! DEAD!
The rage was immediately followed by a rush of power. His hands crossed before him and he roared. A mana sphere the size of a boulder flew from his hands and blasted Tahart into the wall!
He brushed dust off himself and stood up. “What the abyss, mercenary!? We had a deal!”
Eric didn't hear him. In his mind, the orc was a monster and everyone knows monsters can't talk. His only answer was to pull out the dagger Culmus bought him.
“I guess you Threan humans have short memory spans after all,” Tahart grumbled. “Oh well, I'll just have a soft skin for dinner.” He locked eyes with Eric's and froze.
His eyes widened, his pupils dilated, heart stopped . . . He was terrified out of his mind, but his body refused to move. If Eric had sense of himself, he'd know that what he was doing to Tahart was the same thing the Black Cloak Leader did to Kasile.
He struck.
One moment he was four feet away and the next his dagger was hilt deep in the orc's neck. He pulled it free and blood flowed from Tahart's jugular vein. He plunged again and again and again; orcs had the tenacity of monsters. Tahart fell to the carpet and his fall shook the room.
When he was sure the orc was dead, Eric's aura faded. Videlicet Mens gave him the strength to save his friend, but now it was gone. Kneeling and gasping for breath, he reached into his pack for Mana Juice. His strength returned, but it could not help Annala. She had scurried to the opposite corner during the struggle. Her knees were tucked up to her chest and her was head buried against her legs. Her arms were still stuck behind her back. Her entire body shook with sobs.
“Annala, are you alright!?” Eric asked urgently. She flinched. He tried again but softer. “It's all right now, the orc's gone. He can't hurt you anymore.”
His Magic Sight was still activated. He'd forgotten to turn it off and now it revealed something startling: two runes were on Annala's gloves, two more on her stockings and a final three in the collar. All five were far more complex than anything in the book and all of them were glowing.
Dengel, what are those?
Restraint runes. The collar suppresses magecraft and chokes the wearer upon command. The ones on her gloves and stockings snap together upon command. All are spelled to prevent removal. In my day, they were used in maximum security prisons and on the most dangerous of criminals.
It explained the waiver's generality. “ . . .harm of any nature . . .” Give me a spell to break them!
There should be a password. Look on the desk.
Eric pulled out one drawer after another until he found something: Annala's contract. It detailed her duties, pay, duration, and the waiver at the bottom. On the other side were three phrases: “lock arms,” “lock legs,” and “choke” with two words underneath each for activation and deactivation. He recited them one by one and their runes faded. Annala still didn't move.
Eric knelt at her side. “Annala . . . remember that time Revas and Oito made Norej look like a chicken, then put an egg under his chair? And how he'd jump every time someone clucked?”
Annala made a sound like a strangled cough and stopped shaking.
“Or how about the song you taught me about the four levels of chaos dilution?” He began to sing. “Mana is blanda, the lowest on the pole. Next is energy of life, the ultimate living spice. After life is in the bowl . . .” He trailed off.
Annala sniffed. “. . .you get soul.”
Eric smiled and continued. “With soul on the dais . . .”
Annala looked up and smiled shakily. “You get chaos.” She wiped her eyes and stood up. “Thanks, Eric . . . I needed that.”
Eric shrugged. “What are friends for? Oh yeah—” He reached under his shirt and brought out the Black Cloak keystone. “I got you a souvenir from my last adventure.”
There it was; the smile he loved so much. The forced smile was replaced by a genuine one as she took the crystal in her hands. His older brother was right: jewels really are a girl's best friend. “It's beautiful . . . It must have cost a fortune!”
“Actually it was pretty cheap . . . a steal really.” Smiling at his own joke, he asked, “Where'd you leave your clothes?”
“In the closet but first—” On her way to the desk, she pulled a strap back over her shoulder.
With her gloved hand, she picked up a crystal cube that held a black sphere. She pointed it at her legs and pushed a button, then the same on her shoulders and chin. Tahart's handprint was still visible as a large red welt.
“It's evidence . . . you . . . I . . .I don't want you to get in trouble for protecting me.”
“Even if I do, it'll be worth it.” Eric said without thinking. “It's what friends do!”
Annala blushed and looked away. “Right . . . what friends do . . .”
Eric looked elsewhere. “So . . . once you get dressed . . . I'll walk you home.”
Annala tugged on one ear. “Actually . . . can . . . can I stay at your place? Just for tonight, I promise!”
“Uh . . . sure . . .stay as long as you like, but what about your parents?”
“My parents live in another city.” She speed walked out of the office. “I'm here on a study abroad program.”
Eric left Tahart's safe room and left him to rot. In the closet, Annala picked up her clothes and waited. With a sudden reddening, Eric realized she was waiting for him to leave. He left skid marks.
While he waited, his eyes were drawn to his own clothes. Tahart's blood was still fresh and dripping. It made his stomach churn. A water spell invoking detergent and washing machines removed the worst, but light brown stains remained.
I'll never get it all off . . . will I?
Are you asking me?
Myself mostly . . .
Do not concern yourself with the matter; orcs are savages.
He was a person!
He was a savage person; a savage about to rape your friend and eat you. She did nothing to provoke him and all you did was come to her defense. He was an enemy. Do not regret his murder.
Aren't I supposed to? So I don't enjoy it?
Did you enjoy it?
Eric thought about it. I enjoyed making him unable to hurt Annala.
There! You have your answer. There is nothing wrong with making your enemies unable to hurt you or companions. Why in my day—
The sound of a door closing broke him out of his thoughts. Annala was back in casual clothes but the gloves, socks, and collar were still attached. She held her elbow and looked away. The vulnerable gesture filled Eric with anger.
“Do you know how to get these off?”
How do I break them?! Answer me!
If the runes are inscribed on the inside then it is impossible. The article that would have to be removed in order for you to physically destroy the rune is the one that is keeping her from removing it.
Dengel was one of the founders of magic; the one who wrote Introduction to Magecraft. If he said it was impossible . . . A pair of gloves and pair of socks that tethered her hands and feet; a collar that choked her. Annala might die making small talk!
“I was just reviewing the rune section of my book and the method of breaking yours isn’t in there. We’ll have to go to the library.”
Annala nodded. “Eric . . . there's just one more thing . . .”
Tahart had offered him hush money and he accepted it; haggled over the price. It horrified Eric and was clearly distressing for Annala. She asked him why he did it and he explained what happened.
“It was . . . ah . . . your voice that . . .” He looked away and scratched his burning neck. “Brought me back. I wanted to help you
.”
“Oh . . .” Annala looked away again, her own cheeks pink. “Then . . . what did I hear?”
Charismatic Eye. It is a projection of the user's willpower, similar to Evil Eye. He used his willpower as a metaphorical crow bar on the lid of your determination to save your friend. This crowbar interferes with other mental functions, such as memory and sensory awareness.
This is what Eric told Annala.
“Makes sense, but we should do something about the bag.”
Any moneybags with his fingerprints on them would look suspicious next to a dead body. Annala rubbed Tahart's hand all over it to smear the prints of her friend.
Your friend is sharp. Her clear thinking after a traumatic event is impressive.
That's Annala.
Or maybe that is her way of coping . . . Instead of talking to Eric, he was musing to himself. Yes . . .she handles the stress by ignoring it and helping someone else . . .The camera too . . .Fascinating . . .Eric didn't like his friend being reduced to a puzzle so he tuned Dengel out.
The pair walked side by side on the street. Annala even hung off his arm. The move surprised him, but it felt really good . . . It's just the shock . . . she's scared and wants comfort . . .it's not really me . . .
“Eric, I read the paper today, and you wanna know what I saw?”
“What?”
She poked his chest. “You. You and an article about Princess Kasile’s rescue.”
“Oh that, yeah . . .” Eric’s neck started burning again. “It was nothing really.”
“You’re so modest!” Annala said with a smile. “Just like in class.”
“No, she escaped on her own!”
“Then why did the princess say she couldn’t have done it without you?”
“Well . . . I did help . . . a little.”
Annala wouldn't drop the subject until he told her the whole story. She was openly impressed with his battles in the sewer and applauded his handling of the Black Cloaks. Eric felt so good about himself that he slipped and told her about the stuff he stole.
“So that’s where you got such a beautiful necklace,” Annala said while admiring it. “I knew a novice mercenary could never afford something like this.”
A Mage's Power (Journey to Chaos) Page 33