“My wizard’s staff,” I said with a grin.
“A wizard’s staff?” John asked, tugging on his beard. “What’s that?”
“You’ll see,” I promised. “Care to spar? I need to train up my staff skills.” I glanced at the youths he was training. “Or are you busy?”
John shook his head. “Don’t worry about those two. One of the other instructors will see to them.” He ushered me to a nearby sparring circle. “Alright, let’s go. But don’t cry too badly when I beat you.” He grinned broadly. “I won’t go as easy on you as Tara did.”
✽✽✽
John did beat me. Repeatedly.
But I kept at it, all through lunch and most of the afternoon. I didn’t stop, not until my staff skill reached Trainee rank. Training the staff Discipline took many more hours than my magic Disciplines, but as the sun began to set and I limped back to the camp, I was satisfied with the progress I had made.
I twirled the staff in my hand as I walked. Even though my wizard staff lacked the sharpened end and longer reach of John’s spear, the black rod had held up well against the bigger man’s weapon. The staff packed a much heftier blow, and the few times I had managed to land a hit on John, I could tell he had felt it.
John had gotten in more than his fair share of blows, of course. But despite the big man’s friendly threats, he had not beaten me nearly as severely as Tara had in that memorable sparring session. And, I reminded myself, our sparring would have gone very differently if I’d used my magic.
On the way back to my tent, I stopped by the temple and increased my skill in the staff Discipline to level twenty. Given how much a part of me the staff felt, it would be my weapon of choice from now on.
When I reached my tent, I sat outside in the cool night air. There was only one more task I had to accomplish for the day: spellcrafting the pair of spells I wanted.
The next hour passed in a blur as I experimented with air magic spellforms. There was one particular spell I had in mind. It took a bit longer to create than I’d expected, but eventually after repeatedly pouring mana in my eyes, the magic was able to do more than fizzle out.
You have spellcrafted a: caster-only spell, from the Discipline of: air magic. The name assigned to this spell is: night vision. Its casting time is: average and its rank is: common.
I blinked, staring at the sleeping camp with new eyes. The night around me had transformed. Its darkened shadows had disappeared, and in their stead, the world around me shone with the same startling clarity as when lit by a noonday sun.
I smiled. Now I could see as well in the dark as any night-time predator.
Next, I turned my attention to my earth magic. Juggling spellforms in my mind, I willed the ground beneath me to transform, and in short order, it did just that.
You have spellcrafted a: touch-based disabling spell, from the Discipline of: earth magic. The name assigned to this spell is: sinking mud. Its casting time is: fast and its rank is: common.
I stared down at my body in surprise. I was buried hip deep in mud. The spell had mutated a nine-yard long cone of ground from solid, hardpacked earth to clinging, sticky mud, with me at its centre.
It had perhaps not been the wisest choice to attempt the spell on the ground directly beneath me. I chuckled nevertheless. Not even being trapped—in mud of my own devising, no less—was enough to spoil my mood.
It has been a fruitful day all around, I thought. I had significantly expanded my repertoire of both Disciplines and spells, and now I was better equipped to face whatever challenges the Trials threw my way.
Still chuckling, I dragged myself out of the mud and into my tent. I looked forward to whatever the new day brought.
Chapter 35
386 days until the Arkon Shield falls
The day of Earth’s destruction
I woke up early the next morning, reinvigorated and refreshed. Today was the fourth day since we had claimed the spider warren, and the day the settlement had to be established to retain the lair.
We will not lose the lair, I vowed.
There was no reason to believe we wouldn’t succeed. The Outpost’s development had been progressing well since the murluk attacks had stopped, and I had advanced significantly too.
I am a proper wizard now, I thought with a smile. I almost felt ready to set out in the wider world.
Once the settlement was founded, things would change. The Outpost would not just be a location anymore. The region would be considered owned territory, belonging to whichever faction the commander joined—or created. The dragon temple itself would also advance and offer further benefits to players.
At least that was what the wiki said.
My smiled faded. But today was also the day the gates from Earth closed. Forever. What would become of our home world and the people left behind, I still wasn’t certain. I could do nothing for them.
I am doing the best I can already, I thought. I fended off further dark musings. It was too early in the day for pessimism. I rose from my pallet to face the new day.
Stepping out of my tent, I found a surprise waiting for me: a crate filled with goods. Lying on top of the piled items was my knife, housed in in a soft new leather sheath.
But that was not all.
Beneath the blade was the new armour Melissa had promised. Smiling, I lifted out the items and used analyse on the crafter’s gifts.
The target is a set of spider leather armour: a leather vest, leggings, helm, gloves, and boots. Made from the carapace of a brown spider queen, this set is resistant to piercing.
The target is a set of silk clothes: cloak, shirt, and pants. Made from the silk of a brown spider queen, this set improves the wearer’s ability to camouflage themself and is extremely durable.
“Well,” I breathed, awed by the magnanimity of Melissa’s gifts. The crafters had outdone themselves.
The armour, made from supple brown spider hides, was many times better than the crude murluk armour I presently wore. Each piece seemed to have been made with me in mind. The pieces interlocked seamlessly together and offered very few vulnerable points for an enemy to target.
The silk clothes were a wonder too. The hooded cloak, dyed brown to match the armour, fell to my ankles and blended into the surroundings as I moved. The gifts were priceless. I would have to remember to thank Melissa when next I saw her.
I equipped my new gear and strode out of my tent a new man. I left only the gloves unequipped and pocketed them instead. Glancing up, I saw the sky had just begun to lighten. Dawn was not far off. If I hurried, I could catch the loggers before they left for the day.
I planned on spending the day with Albert’s team to make sure nothing went wrong with the last shipment necessary to complete the palisade.
And I needed to speak to Tara.
I still hadn’t had a chance to mend things between us, and it was past time I did. I was making my way east through the camp when a cry from behind stopped me.
“Mage Jamie! Mage Jamie, stop!”
I turned around. A soldier I didn’t know was running up to me. “Is something wrong?” I asked.
“The commander wants to see you,” he panted as he stumbled to a halt.
I hesitated. I hadn’t spoken to the commander since I’d rejected her offer to stay. I sighed. That is another fence that needs mending.
But first I had to speak to Tara. “Tell her I will come see her later,” I replied.
“You have to come now,” the messenger said, shaking his head. “The commander was insistent.”
I frowned. Jolin could wait, but before I could say that, the messenger burst out, “Another mage has arrived!”
My mouth dropped open. “A mage?” I repeated. “A human mage?”
He nodded vigorously. “Yes, from Earth. He came through the gate not long ago, and is with the commander right now.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose. The news was unexpected, and I honestly wasn
’t sure what to make of it. “Alright then, lead on.”
✽✽✽
The commander’s pavilion had expanded since I had last been there. No longer a single tent, it had expanded into a series of interconnected tents. The command centre—as I decided to dub it—was a hive of activity with messengers scurrying to and fro.
I studied the scene with bemusement. When had the Outpost gotten so busy?
As we drew closer, other changes became apparent. A squad of spearmen stood guard outside the entrance, and the immediate vicinity had been cordoned off.
I frowned. When did the commander start needing protection within the camp?
The guards immediately recognised me from my gait—I had to be the only cripple in the camp—and waved us through. Good, I thought. At least, bureaucracy hasn’t set in yet.
Entering the command centre, I received my third shock of the morning. The first tent had been configured into an ante-chamber and was lined with benches, all of which—even this early in the morning—were full.
“Who are all these people?” I murmured.
The messenger glanced at me. “Recruits waiting to see the commander. They haven’t stopped arriving since yesterday. The commander and the captains have been up all night, busy with meet and greets.” He leaned in and said in a low whisper, “Some of the new fishes have quite an air about themselves, demanding—can you believe it?—to see the commander as soon as they arrived.”
So, I thought, studying the ante-chamber, the exodus has begun in earnest. I ran my gaze over those filling the benches. Nearly all were dressed in the same basic clothes I had arrived in only days ago. Some bore haughty expressions, and others scowled, but most seemed confused and afraid.
As I strode through the room, faces turned my way. Some shrank away, others narrowed their eyes in suspicion, and yet others looked on with envy at my gear. Feeling self-conscious I hurried through to the next room.
There, each seated at their own desk, were Captain Marcus and Petrov. Both men had a long queue of people lined up in front of them.
The two captains looked harried and worn-out. What the messenger said must be true, I thought. Neither appeared to have slept much, if at all. Suddenly, I felt guilty for my own rest.
Marcus looked up and saw me. “Go on in,” he said, waving me through. “She is waiting.” As I passed him, he said under his breath, “And try to hold onto your temper.”
Wondering at his last comment, I stepped into the commander’s office. Jolin was seated behind her desk, a much newer and sturdier construction than her previous one, I noted. Standing at her back was a large soldier, perhaps a bodyguard, and lounging in the chair across her was a new fish, marked so by his attire.
The seated stranger’s face bore none of the fear or confusion clouding the expressions of the recruits in the ante-chamber. Instead he looked… bored and put-out.
For a new arrival, the player—blonde, blue-eyed, and large of frame—seemed extraordinarily confident and self-assured.
This must be the new mage.
I noted with relief that the commander herself had not undergone a transformation in my absence. Her face bore the same cool, patient expression I had always seen on her, the calm in the centre of the storm.
“Ah, Jamie,” the old lady said, “there you are.” Neither her voice nor her expression betrayed that we had parted on poor terms the last time we spoke.
“Good morning, ma’am,” I replied, taking my cue from her.
“Wow! Cool digs, dude,” said the new player, eyeing out my equipment.
“Uh… thank you,” I replied.
Not acknowledging my reply, the blonde youth’s head whipped around to the commander. “I want a set of those, gran.” He paused. “But better.”
Gran?! I almost choked on the fish’s words and tone, but managed to disguise my reaction behind a cough. The bodyguard behind the commander stirred, but didn’t otherwise react.
“Of course, Lance. You shall,” replied the commander, her tone too bland.
My own expression cleared at Jolin’s reply. Clearly the old lady was humouring the new fish. Who does this Lance think he is? I thought, laughing on the inside.
I shuddered to think what Tara would make of him. Although… on second thought, it might be amusing to watch the two meet.
“Lance, I’d like you to meet, Jamie, our resident mage,” Jolin said. “Jamie, this is Lance, a mage as well.”
Lance’s gaze narrowed as he studied me. Assessing the competition? I wondered. A moment later, I felt a strange ripple pass over me. I was being analysed.
The moment the ripple passed, Lance snorted and turned back to the commander. “I’m twice the mage this cripple is, Gran. Whatever he can do, I promise you I’ll do two times better.” Turning my way, he shrugged nonchalantly. “No offense, dude.”
I stared at Lance—both appalled and fascinated. But before I could respond to his insult, I sensed the commander’s eyes on me. I glanced her way.
I don’t know if it was because I was getting better at reading her, or because she was deliberately revealing her thoughts, but I could feel Jolin’s sudden tension.
Holding the old lady’s gaze, I replied to the mage, “None taken.” At my response, the commander relaxed minutely.
“Damn shame about your foot though,” Lance continued, oblivious to our exchange. “And damn foolish to have kept your old body, man. But I suppose I can’t expect noobs like you to know any better. You should have taken the new form, dude.”
I fought the urge to sigh. The reason for Marcus’ muttered comment was abundantly clear now. Yet I was curious about the new player and his casual dismissal of my own Magic Potential.
Just how strong a mage is he? Reaching out, I cast analyse on Lance.
The target is Lance Gillian, a level 1 human player. He is gifted in Magic, is gifted with Might, has mediocre Resilience, and has meagre Craft.
He had the makings of a decent mage. At least based on his Potential, he did. His attitude, however, left much to be desired.
Lance sensed my analyse as clearly as I had his. “Impressive, ain’t it?” he said.
“Very,” I replied dryly.
Lance turned back to the commander. “With my Magic Potential, things will change around here, I promise you. Just heed my advice, lady, and we’ll get along just fine.”
Seemingly stumped for a response, the commander said, “Jamie is a gamer too.”
Lance swung back to me.
I shot the commander a wry look. Thanks, ma’am. I finally had an inkling of why I had been summoned. The new player was clearly a handful, and due to his status as a mage he needed delicate handling. The commander, though, appeared at a loss on how to go about it.
“What games did you play, dude?”
“Oh a little bit of this and that,” I replied.
“Ah, a casual player,” said Lance, nodding knowingly. “Not a real gamer, then,” he said as an aside to the commander. He turned back to me. “But don’t worry, I’ll show you the ropes. I’ve studied that damn wiki from end to end and know this game backwards now.”
“You studied the Infopedia?” I asked, my interest piqued for the first time by the mage. I didn’t bother telling him that the Trials wasn’t a game. He wouldn’t have believed me. But he would learn.
“Yep,” said Lance, poorly concealing a yawn. “It’s why I delayed my entry into Overworld so long.”
Well, well, perhaps there is something to be learned from Lance after all. “That’s great!” I said with false enthusiasm. “I look forward to learning at the feet of a master such as yourself!”
From beyond Lance, the commander shot me a glance. Alright, perhaps I had laid it on a bit thick.
“Sure, man, whatever. I’m happy to show you the ropes,” said Lance. “As long as it doesn’t hamper my own levelling of course.” He yawned again.
“Lance, you look tired,” said the comma
nder. She gestured her bodyguard forward. “Jim, please show Lance to his tent so that he can get some rest.”
“See you soon, Lance,” I said, waving farewell as the mage stepped out.
Turning back to the commander, I saw she had bowed her head and was rubbing delicately at her temples. It was the first sign of stress or anxiety I had seen from her.
Lance must have really tried her patience, I thought.
“How old is he?” I asked, eliciting a laugh from Jolin.
“I don’t know,” she said, then snorted. “But too young by far.”
“Was I that bad?” I asked. It had been little less than five days since I had arrived on Overworld, but after meeting Lance it felt like a lifetime.
The old lady’s face turned serious. “Not by half, Jamie.”
I nodded, embarrassed by her praise. “May I?” I asked, pointing at Lance’s abandoned seat.
“Please do.”
“I noticed things are quite busy out there,” I said as I sat down.
The commander nodded. “Ever since yesterday, recruitment has picked up considerably. I expect that today alone we will get a few thousand recruits.” Her eyes turned distant. “People are panicking back home. Now that Earth is in its final hours, everyone is desperate to escape.”
She turned back to me. “Thank you, by the way, for sending that family to me yesterday. I hadn’t foreseen children. It adds a new urgency to what we do here.”
I nodded, knowing what she meant.
“What do you think of Lance?” she asked.
“You mean besides the obvious? If he really has studied the wiki, then he is an invaluable resource. I’d advise setting Marcus on him to extract as much information as possible.”
“I’ll do that. And what of his Magic Potential?”
“I am afraid Lance will find it much harder on Overworld than he expects,” I said. “He will need to be protected.” Had I needed as much protection?
I hesitated before going on. “Don’t expect the same from Lance as what I’ve been able to accomplish. It’s not arrogance,” I added quickly. “But I have some… unique advantages that I kind of doubt Lance possesses.”
Overworld (Dragon Mage Saga Book 1): A fantasy post-apocalyptic story Page 33