Overworld (Dragon Mage Saga Book 1): A fantasy post-apocalyptic story

by Rohan M Vider

  It did not escape my notice either that the sapling had been referred to as a ‘Focus.’ A Focus, I had surmised by now, had to be a living object and seemed to be as much a mage’s tool as a hammer was a smith’s.

  I chewed my lip thoughtfully. Could the process to attune a Focus be similar to the one I had used to attune my own mana? But why did I need lore, then? That was unexpected.

  “Something wrong?” asked Melissa.

  “No,” I replied. “Can I take these?”

  “Of course, they’re yours.”

  “Thanks,” I said. Grabbing the saplings, I began to step away, then stopped. “Oh,” I said as I withdrew the knife I had shoved into my pocket for want of a sheath. “Can you get someone to make me a new casing? Th old one was… uhm, destroyed.”

  Melissa looked wryly at my hairless face. “Yes, I heard about that,” she said, taking the knife from me. “I’ll have someone bring it over to your tent when it’s done.” She eyed my armour. “Perhaps some better-fitting armour is in order too.”

  “Thank you, Melissa,” I called over my shoulder.

  I set aside my other plans and hurried away to experiment further with the saplings.

  ✽✽✽

  Back in my tent, I sat down crossed-legged with the second sapling across my knees. I stilled my breathing and closed my eyes, then opened my magesight.

  Lines of spirit flowed through the sapling. They were nowhere near as complex as the intricate web forming my own spirit, but they were nonetheless unmistakable.

  Ever so carefully, I attempted the process of attunement, much in the same way as I had attuned my own mana.

  The sapling, of course, had none of its own mana. But after thinking on the matter I had come to the conclusion that the attunement process for a Focus required me to align its spirit to my mana. That way, the Focus would survive my spellcasting and not die as the previous saplings had, when exposed to my magic.

  I gathered my mana and dribbled a little into the sapling—the tiniest amount I could manage. I exhaled in relief when it caused no adverse reaction and moved on to the next step. Manipulating the mana I dropped into the wood, I coaxed the sapling to recognize my magic.

  The wood’s grains shifted minutely in response to my will, but then a moment later they snapped back, in seeming rejection of my magic. In dismay, I watched as the spirit weaves riddling the sapling vanished.

  An ash tree sapling has died. Your lore skill is too low to attune this Focus.

  My face fell. “Damn,” I muttered in frustration. I felt as if I had been so close to success.

  I considered the Trials message. Again, there was the reference to my lore being insufficient. Lore was not a Discipline I had studied much in the wiki. It wasn’t a combat Discipline and was instead a crafting one. Yet lore seemed essential for attuning a Focus.

  Do all mages need lore… or only those creating their own Focus?

  I sighed. If I still had access to the wiki, I could learn more of the Discipline and consider its merits in greater detail. But I had no choice now.

  I ran my hand along the dead sapling. I knew I couldn’t ignore the Trials alert for a second time, and I had only one sapling left. I could get more of them from the forest, but I suspected that without increasing lore I would keep failing.

  I would have to increase the Discipline through the temple, if only for the benefit of creating an attuned staff. I set aside the saplings. Before I visited the temple, I wanted to train at least one other of my magical Disciplines.

  I had spent my trip back from the forest last night analysing my battle with the hounds, and two things had become immediately apparent to me.

  One: I was too vulnerable at night, and two: I couldn’t always depend on flare and invincible. The day-long standoff with the hounds had taught me that if I couldn’t bring my spells to bear on my foes, I was helpless.

  The solution was obvious: I needed a disabling spell, a means to hold my enemies in place while I damaged them. I knew of a basic spell that could do the job, but it was from the Discipline of earth magic.

  I closed my eyes and drew up my mana. Manipulating the magic, I shaped a rudimentary representation of earth in my mind. Then while I let intuition guide me, I twisted and turned the mana as I refined my understanding.

  I don’t know if was because I was getting better at magic, or a result of my past training in the other magic Disciplines, but whatever the reason, I advanced my knowledge of earth magic much faster than I’d expected. After only a few hours of practice, I reached Trainee rank.

  Your skill in earth magic has advanced to: level 10 and reached: rank 2, Trainee.

  Wincing at the stiffness in my limbs, I creaked to my feet and ducked out of the tent. The time had come to visit the dragon temple again.

  ✽✽✽

  You have entered Wyrm Island.

  Aurora met me in the centre of Wyrm Island, next to the gate. Just like the previous few times I had been here, she didn’t seem particularly happy to see me.

  “Human,” said Aurora, her voice oozing boredom, “what can I do for you today?”

  I bowed, minding my manners as I had been warned to despite her less-than-courteous demeanour. “I’d like to advance my Disciplines and enhance my Attributes,” I replied.

  “You have one hundred and sixty-one Tokens and twenty-six Marks available. What Disciplines and Attributes do you wish to train?”

  “Dragon magic, life magic, earth magic, air magic, and lore. Please increase them all to twenty.” After the temple made the changes, I would have four magic Disciplines to call upon, giving me some much-needed versatility.

  “Done. You have one hundred and twenty-seven Tokens remaining,” Aurora said. “In which Attributes do you wish to invest your Marks?”

  “Vigour, channelling, constitution, and spellpower.” Now that I had increased my spellpower to rank two, the limit of what I could expect to achieve with training, I could not easily enhance it further without Marks.

  “Noted,” Aurora said. “You have ten Marks remaining. Your new knowledge and the changes to your body will be effected once you exit Wyrm Island.”

  Satisfied with the improvements I had chosen, I waved goodbye to the purple woman and stepped back through the gate.

  ✽✽✽

  You have exited Wyrm Island. Your spellpower, constitution, vigour, and channelling have increased to: level 20.

  Your skills in dragon, air, earth, lore, and life magic have advanced to: level 20.

  Stepping out of the dragon temple, I felt the new knowledge settle within me and my body adapt to its new Attributes. A pleased grin broke out across my face. I was getting stronger.

  And now it’s time to attune my staff.

  Limping down the temple steps, I began to hurry away towards my tent. That was when the scream cut through the air.

  High, shrill, piercing—it was a child’s cry.

  I froze. What was a child doing here? Turning around, I saw a family of three—two parents and one child—in almost the exact same spot I had appeared on entering Overworld.

  Two spearmen hurried towards the trio. They had likely been posted to keep watch for new arrivals. The child, a girl who looked to be no older than ten, was bawling. Unlike the vast majority of human players, the child had entered in her own body. So had her parents. They were both middle-aged, with grey-flecked hair and faces lined with worry.

  What were her parents thinking, bringing her to Overworld? I wondered.

  Slowly, I made my way to the trio. The two spearmen were trying to calm the family. The parents appeared just as confused and fearful as their daughter.

  “Ma’am, sir, I am Jamie,” I said, cutting through the shouting and screaming. “How can I help?”

  “Who are you?” demanded the father, rounding on me.

  I paused. “I am the settlement’s mage,” I replied. Knowing he would likely scoff, I cast flare.

 
The parents stepped back fearfully, but the girl’s screams stopped—as I had hoped they would—and her eyes lit up as she stared in fascination at the flames wreathing my hand. “Can I touch it?” she asked, reaching out.

  I drew my hand back and shook my head. “No, you cannot, kiddo. It’s dangerous.”

  “But I want to,” she said crossly.

  Smiling, I knelt down before her and cast lay hands. Holding out my glowing blue-white hands, I said, “Here, you can touch this.”

  Her hands snapped out immediately. Her father stepped forward to pull her back.

  “It’s alright,” I told him. “There is no danger.”

  He hesitated, but before he could intervene, his daughter decided the matter. “It tickles!” the girl said as her hand touched mine and the spell faded.

  The father relaxed, and I rose to my feet. “You are in Overworld, sir,” I said, addressing the man. “In the Outpost, a location settled entirely by humans.” I hesitated, glancing down at his daughter. “Why did you come here?”

  “I’m Greg,” the man said. “And we had no choice.”

  “No choice?” I asked, confused.

  “I don’t know when you left Earth, young man, but things back home have turned grim. Volcanoes, tornadoes, earthquakes, every natural disaster you can think of; they’re all happening, all over the world, and all at once. The only places on Earth not unstable right now are the gates and their immediate vicinity.”

  Greg’s lips twisted. “People are finally taking the overworlders’ words to heart. The exodus has begun in earnest. Millions are fleeing through whichever gate is closest.” He shook his head. “I don’t know how many will make it. We were more fortunate than most. Our own home was very close to a gate, so we entered it as soon as we could.”

  I frowned. “Are you from New Springs?” It was the town Tara, the commander, and the other recruits had come from.

  Greg shook his head. “No. I am from London. The gates have been—what did that reporter call it?—unlocked. You can choose to exit anywhere in the Human Dominion now.”

  I pursed my lips. “Why come here though? Why choose location seventy-eight?”

  Greg hung his head. “Honestly, we chose at random.” He rested a hand on his daughter’s shoulder. “Because of Claire here, we underwent our Trials Initiation together.” He smiled bitterly. “At least this blasted world had the decency not to separate our little girl from us.”

  My brows shot up. All three had been initiated? Surely the child was too young for that? “Claire is a player?” I asked.

  “Not a full one,” answered the mother, her voice quivering. “Or that’s what those stone tablets we found in Wyrm Island led us to believe.” She clutched at Claire protectively. “Until she becomes an adult, my poor girl is defenceless!”

  I was puzzled by the mother’s words. Stone tablets? What was she talking about? I hadn’t seen any items like that during my own visits to the island. But before I could question her, Greg spoke up.

  “Now that isn’t quite true, dear,” he said. “Those tablets did say Claire can train her Disciplines through natural learning.” He paused. “Whatever that means.”

  I glanced down at the little girl and applied analyse. The results were surprising.

  The target is Claire Thompson, a level 1 human child-player. Due to her child status: the target’s Potentials are hidden, temple access is denied, and experience gains are locked.

  I frowned, troubled by the analysis report. I turned to the two spearmen, who had been patiently observing our conversation. “Soldiers, you better take these three to the commander and make sure she hears their story.” I hesitated. “Also, tell her that given what’s happening on Earth, she can likely expect more recruits today and tomorrow—many more.”

  Jolin would likely reach the same conclusions I had after she heard the trio’s story, but I wanted to be sure she didn’t miss the implications. I only hoped the Outpost could cope with the sudden influx of people that was certain to follow.

  The two nodded and led the family away. Claire waved goodbye and I waved back.

  Chapter 34

  387 days until the Arkon Shield falls

  1 day to Earth’s destruction

  1 day until the Warren is destroyed

  Lost deep in thought, I made my way back to my tent. Greg’s words kept playing over in my mind. The situation back on Earth, which I had forgotten about over the last few days, felt altogether too real after talking to the family.

  How would Greg’s family—and others like his—survive on Overworld?

  The Trials did not consider Claire a full player which meant she couldn’t enter a temple or level up. It was a cruel handicap. The poor girl could still be killed or hurt, but at the same time she was barred from the benefits players received. Benefits that helped them survive.

  Children would have to be sheltered on this world, I realised. Even more so than on Earth. But how would we do that, when most human adults couldn’t even protect themselves yet?

  Unbeckoned, the commander’s words whispered through my mind: ‘their future will be in the hands of people like you, Jamie.’ If I joined the Outpost, I could see to it that families like Greg’s were kept safe.

  No, I thought refusing the possibility. I can’t stay.

  There had to be thousands of other human children scattered all over the Human Dominion by now. All of them were in as much danger as little Claire.

  I had to try and help them all.

  I reached my tent and ducked inside. Sitting down cross-legged on my pallet, I pulled the last remaining sapling over my knees and considered it.

  The only way I knew to help Claire and all the other Earth refugees was to get stronger. With grim determination, I got back to work.

  For a time, my mind refused to focus, but eventually the troubles of Greg’s family, the Outpost, and Earth faded from conscious, and I concentrated on the task at hand.

  My increased skill in the lore Discipline had furthered my understanding of the Trials and the underlying principles of Overworld. I knew now that not only was all magic different, but that most living things considered foreign magic—in its raw form—to be hostile.

  Depending on the complexity of the entity, lifeforms reacted differently when faced with the threat of foreign magic. A person like Tara would instinctively shrug off an attempt to channel magic through her. But the spirit weave of a simpler organism—like the sapling I held in my hands—was not robust enough to fight off invasive magic, so instead it died.

  To prevent such an instinctive response, I had to encourage the living wood to align itself with my magic. I had been on the right track earlier, but I had just gone about it wrong.

  Opening my magesight, I delved into the five-foot-long oak on my knees. I studied it intently until I knew its every knot, gnarl, and grain. When I was certain I understood the sapling as fully as I could, I began to attune its nature to mine, carefully introducing my magic’s velvet swirls of cobalt blue.

  Inch by inch, the living cells in the sapling tasted the droplets of my mana and reformed, sip by sip. The grains of oak kept shifting, until eventually they aligned perfectly with the channels in my own body.

  I knew the exact moment it happened. Because when it did, the sapling transformed from a thing apart, into a living extension of myself, and as much a vessel of my magic and will as the rest of my body.

  You have discovered: basic attunement, a Technique from the Discipline of: lore. Basic attunement is an ability that creates a bond between a Focus and a magic wielder, allowing the mage to cast spells through the attuned Focus. Its casting time is: very slow and its rank is: common.

  You have created an oak wizard’s staff. This Focus has: no special properties, can only be used by: Jameson Sinclair, and has: a basic level of attunement.

  I stared in amazement at the staff in my hands. The attunement had transformed it. Its previously gnarled, soft,
slightly pliable texture was gone. Now it was a smooth, unvarnished length of wood that was as hard and unyielding as steel. Its colour had changed too. The oak’s natural brown had darkened to a near-uniform black.

  Closing my eyes, I realised I could sense the staff’s presence as much as I could any of my limbs. Tentatively, I raised the staff off my knees and held it horizontally aloft.

  Then I cast flare.

  Dragonfire flowed out from my hands, and rippled down the Focus, wreathing its entire length in flames. But the dragonfire did not damage the staff.

  Yes! I exulted. Now this is a proper mage’s weapon. I rose to my feet and made my way to the training grounds. It was time to improve my skill in the staff Discipline.

  ✽✽✽

  The training grounds was crowded.

  There were a lot more men and women filling the large space today than on my previous visits. Did that mean the settlement’s fighting force had grown?

  I strolled through the sparring warriors until I spotted a familiar face. “John!” I called to the big man, who was shouting out instruction to two youths. Judging by their poor forms, they had to be day-zero fishes.

  John turned, a welcoming smile on his face. “Jamie, how are you?” His eyes roved over my hairless features. “I heard about your escapade in the woods. Looks like it was some fight.”

  “You wouldn’t believe the half of it,” I said with a laugh. “I tell you, at times I found myself wishing I was facing the spider queen instead.”

  “That bad, eh?” John said sympathetically.

  I nodded. “I meant to come by the river earlier. Did the murluks show up today?”

  John shook his head. “Nope, no sign of them at all. I reckon you scared them off for good. Good riddance, I say.” John’s eyes drifted to the black staff in my hands. “So what are you doing here, Jamie?” He gestured to the staff. “And what is that?”