The Marches of Edonis (Omegaverse Book 5)

by GR Cooper

  Wulfgar joined the laughter then cocked his head, "Where are you at now? I mean, I assume that you're not actually beneath the northwest road a day out of Edonis."

  Jeremiah laughed, "No, I'm not. Hold on a second," his eyes became focused and distant for a moment, "Sorry, I checked. That's not information I'm allowed to give you. Today is about you," he pointed a finger toward Wulfgar's chest, "not me."

  "OK. How do class and profession combine?"

  "It's really different for everyone. There are no restrictions on the combinations you can use. There are Thief Magi, Warrior Magi," he poked Wulfgar again, "Rogue Magi. Anyway, class is kind of nebulous in this world. It's more down to what you do, what skills you learn, that define what class you are. Unlike profession which is a predefined, dedicated choice, your class is what you make of it. You can mix and match whatever skill set you like."

  "So I could learn some Ranger skills?"

  Jeremiah nodded, "Sure. If that's what you wanted. Just remember, as you start getting higher in level, your choices lessen. Your access to new skills go way down. After a while your choices sort of level out. There are spells you can use to cancel out a skill and open a slot, but it's very expensive and you have to start over the new skill from scratch."

  "So if at some point I decide my Herb Lore is no longer a value to me?"

  Jeremiah nodded, "You can spend a shit-ton of gold, wipe the skill, and open up that slot for a new choice." Jeremiah chuckled, "But don't. Herb Lore is pretty much a basic requirement unless you're a city dweller."

  Wulfgar nodded.

  "So," continued Jeremiah, "it's more of a way of backing out of a dead-end than a way to plan out your future. I wouldn't make any choices about your skill choices based on being able to reset them in that way. What you want to do is try to determine now what kind of life you want to live and plan out your choices accordingly."

  Wulfgar nodded again. That was exactly the approach he'd been taking.

  That was exactly why he knew this path was for him.

  "So," concluded Jeremiah, "I assume that after all of this you still want to go through."

  Wulfgar nodded, looking to the skull carved doorway. He nodded again.

  Jeremiah patted him on the back. "You'll do fine. Don't worry."

  "Any advice?"

  "Have you bound to a holy site recently?"

  Wulfgar nodded.

  "Then don't worry about it," Jeremiah chuckled.

  Wulfgar looked back at him and raised an eyebrow.

  "Just kidding," smiled Jeremiah, "you're not going to die in there." He paused, "Probably."

  Wulfgar steeled himself, then looked forward and pushed on the door. It creaked open quietly, opening away from him into a dark space. The torches in the current room threw no light or shadows into the void. He took a deep breath and stepped through.

  "Good luck," said Jeremiah.

  The door closed behind Wulfgar with an authoritative clunk plunging him into total darkness. He heard a latch and knew that the way back was closed to him.

  "Congratulations! You have gained a level in Sorcery!"

  "Your profession is now Magus! You are now a member of the Magic User's Guild!"

  "You have learned a spell! Illumination!"

  "You have gained in Intelligence! +2!"

  Wulfgar paused, taking in the information. He looked around but saw nothing. He knew that no matter how long he waited, his eyes would not adjust to this Stygian nothingness.

  "How," he said softly, "do I use this nifty new illumination spell?"

  A voice inside of his head replied. To Wulfgar it sounded very much like the voice of the young girl in the guild hall in Edonis.

  "Sit," she said.

  Wulfgar dropped and crossed his legs, waiting for further instructions.

  "Reach your hand out and onto the floor in front of you."

  He did and felt leather. A book. About the size of hardcover dictionary. He picked it up and opened the cover. A small, soft light emanated from the flyleaf. He looked down to it and focused and as he did words began to scroll across the page, as though being written in green light.

  Spell Book of Wulfgar, Magus of Evening.

  "Whoah," said Wulfgar, smiling down. He looked back up and around, but the little light that shone off the page did nothing to illuminate his surroundings. He looked back down and turned the flyleaf.

  In similar writing, the first page listed his first spell.

  Illumination (1). Lights the area around the caster until the spell is canceled. Area is a sphere centered on the caster whose maximum size is determined by the spell level (3 meter radius plus .5 meter per level to a maximum of 20 meters). Caster can set maximum size upon casting. 05 Mana per cast. No cool-down.

  "Yeah," he muttered, "but how the hell do I cast it?"

  As he looked at the page, the words, now seemingly burned into the page, began to lessen. To cool. Soon he was once again enveloped in nothingness.

  "How do I cast a spell?" he wondered again. He thought about it for a moment, then shrugged.

  The description didn't say that there were any requirements apart from mana. There was nothing about any words that needed to be spoken, nothing about any ingredients.

  So he just willed himself to cast the spell.

  As soon as he did, he was shocked into sight by a radiant light that blinked into existence around him.

  "Congratulations! You have gained a level in Meditation!"

  He focused on the skill and knew the description.

  Meditation (1). Increases the natural regeneration rate of Mana. The user must be completely still and silent to use the skill and the skill is disrupted if the user moves, speaks or receives damage (physical or magical). ((2 + (Meditation Level x .1)) x Base Regeneration Rate = Regeneration Rate. Cool-down 10 minutes minus 10 seconds per level. Active.

  Wulfgar smiled. He was getting the hang of this world. He did the math in his head. Cool-down of ten minutes minus ten seconds per level meant that by the time he reached level sixty, there'd be no cool down. That would also give him eight times the base mana regeneration rate - whatever that was. He'd be able to machine-gun spells at that point. That seemed to be a long way away, though.

  He focused on his mana and felt it begin to regenerate. Within a matter of seconds he felt a small surge in - something - he couldn't quite describe it. He shrugged; what it felt like was his mana regenerating. After a short time, the feeling went away and he knew that his mana pool was now full.

  Wulfgar stood and looked into the light surrounding him.

  Stone pavers, gray, lay in all direction as far as he could see, which was about three meters in every direction. The feeling of being inside of a ball of light in the middle of total darkness was like being a well-lit target for whatever nightmare was just out of his sight. He began to walk forward. After a few seconds he began to see a stone wall begin to take shape in the distance. As he approached it he realized that the light that was surrounding him didn't, thankfully, end at the edge of the magical sphere. Rather than drop to nothing, it seemed that the light merely dropped off precipitously while still radiating outward. Once the far wall, however, came within the light sphere, the resolution rose dramatically.

  The wall was rough cut stone and in the center stood an arched wooden doorway. Unlit torches hung in sconces on either side of the portal.

  Wulfgar frowned and pulled one of the torches off of the wall. He wanted to try something. An experiment. He cast illumination while focusing on the torch. Nothing.

  "I guess that'll take some sort of fire spell," he muttered. He felt his mana begin to climb once again and assumed that his cast had merely set the light sphere around him, redundantly. The mana rise felt glacial compared to the increase he'd felt while meditating, but it still filled while he waited.

  He replaced the torch and looked at the door. It was plain but for a large cast iron ring hanging from the center. He pondered it for a moment - was it a grip to pu
ll the door open or some kind of knocker. He reached for it and pulled on the heavy iron until it was perpendicular to the wood of the door, then he pulled harder. The door slowly opened, inward toward Wulfgar, on silent hinges. He continued pulling until the door was open enough for him to slip through, then slowly and silently returned the pull to its original position.

  Wulfgar looked through the opening into the new space. Diffused light danced within, as though from flickering torches. He willed his light sphere off and he was doused in darkness. He waited for his eyes to adjust to the new, lower, levels of light while he peered through into the room.

  For some reason, he recalled the words of the girl in the guild hall.

  "There is no path that is more or less evil than any other. Evil cannot be thrust upon you, you take it with you. It's a part of you, along with goodness. Your evil and goodness are dormant until your choices give them life," she had said.

  He nodded, then stepped forward into the dimly lit room.

  The space was small. It was only a few meters across by about the same width. On the right and left walls hung the sputtering torches that gave the room its sallow light. Along the further wall were three doors spread evenly. They matched the door he'd just come through - tight wood slats that held an iron ring in the middle. Across the top of that wall was carved an inscription in the stone.

  Choose only one. Your choice will close the other passageways to you forever.

  Wulfgar looked back to the doors. There was nothing to choose between them. They were alike, triplets. Three thirds of a monotonous triptych. He walked to each in turn, examining them closely. There was nothing visually to separate them, nothing to give him an indication of which he should pick.

  He pulled back the iron work handle on the first door, the door on the left, then let it go to strike the door. It boomed hollowly. He tried the same with the other doors. They all sounded the same.

  He dropped to his knees and looked underneath the first door, into the darkness beyond the centimeter high space between the wood and the floor. He could discern nothing. The other doors likewise refused to show what lay beyond. He rolled back from the third door and sat, contemplating what to do.

  Wulfgar stood and strode to one of the wall sconces and pulled a torch from the wall and returned to the first door. He dropped to his knees and pressed the flame to the bottom of the door while putting his head onto the stone surface and looking again underneath the doorway.

  Nothing.

  The other two doors presented the same. Frustrated, he again stood and dropped the torch back into its holder. He turned to again face the doors, fists on hips, frowning and thinking.

  Then he laughed.

  "I'm an idiot!"

  He leapt to the first door, again dropping to his knees.

  Wulfgar activated his illumination spell.

  As the increasingly familiar feeling of his mana slowly regenerating began, he looked once again underneath the door. Now that he was surrounded by a sphere a light, he could see beneath and into the next area. All he could make out, however, were more tiles like the ones on which he crouched.

  That wasn't much to go on.

  Crestfallen, he moved to the second door. The one in the middle. Putting his head down, he looked beneath this one as well. Nothing but darkness. He did the same at the third door and got the same result as the second. Nothing.

  He stood.

  "Well," he said to himself, "barring any other information, seems like the first door is the only choice."

  Wulfgar walked back to the leftmost door and, taking a deep breath, pulled on the handle. The door opened slowly, creaking a little. The light surrounding Wulfgar flooded through illuminating a narrow walkway that stretched forward over complete nothingness.

  He stepped forward onto the bridge. It was barely as wide as the doorway and ended after a few meters at another doorway in another wall. He looked to his right. The other two doors hung over empty space.

  Wulfgar retreated to the room and pulled both torches from the wall before returning to the bridge. Looking into the abyss, he dropped one torch and watched it disappear into nothingness until the light became an ever diminishing pinprick. Its passage gave no sense of what lay below other than an infinity of emptiness.

  He looked back up to the other two doors. If he'd chosen the middle one he might, might, have been able to jump to the bridge across the chasm.

  If he'd chosen the far right passage, he'd have been trapped. There was no way from that opening to where he was now. The wall that the doors shared was, on this side, perfectly smooth. Impossible to climb.

  "Wherever I am," he muttered turning toward the door on the far side of the bridge, "there are correct and incorrect answers." He shuddered to think what would have happened if he'd chosen the far door. He'd have probably had to jump for it and wait for the bottom of the abyss to provide him with a return to the small church in Edonis.

  Wulfgar walked across the bridge to the door and pulled it open with his right hand and thrust with his left, pushing the remaining torch into the space beyond. As he stepped through, he saw that he was in a small chamber. The room was rectangular, a couple of meters across was yet another closed door. The room was empty but for a small table. On the table was a rolled scroll and three small bowls with what looked like three different kinds of plant matter. Above the table rested an empty sconce.

  He put the torch into the sconce and picked up the scroll. After he untied the ribbon that held it closed, he unrolled it to reveal the writing on the dry parchment.

  Fire Shot level 2. Sends a directed ball of flame up to three meters from the caster. Maximum size of the ball is determined by the skill level of the caster. The fire can only ignite and damage flammable objects. Maximum size = ((Spell Level + Magic Level)) x .1 meter). Damage depends on flammability of object. Damage continues until flame is extinguished. 09 Mana per cast. No cool-down. Ingredients required: (1) Goat's Rue, (1) Motherwort, (1) Mountain Mint.

  As he finished reading the scroll it disintegrated in his hands. Shocked, he wiped the paper dust off of his hands and looked back to the table. Within each of the bowls he assumed were goat's rue, motherwort, and mountain mint. Each bowl contained three of the herbs.

  Enough for three fire shot spells.

  He pulled his spell book out of his pack and flipped to the third page. As he expected, it now listed the fire shot spell. Nodding, he put the book back into his pack and emptied the small bowls of their ingredients into the herb bag that hung from his belt. The fire agents joined the little clutch of plants he'd accrued for healing and other potions.

  Wulfgar walked to the next door and pulled it open. He began to step through then stopped as his foot began to drop into nothingness. He gripped the door jamb and steadied himself.

  Through the door was nothing but another way down into the abyss.

  Wulfgar pulled himself back upright and fully into the room before peering forward. At the edge of his vision he could just make out a wooden drawbridge. It was held up by a rope that tied into a knot around a circular metal ring on the front edge of the bridge.

  He smiled.

  After the last test, this one was kind of easy.

  Wulfgar opened his herb sack and pulled out one of each of goat's rue, motherwort, and mountain mint. He held them in his hand outstretched and focused on the rope across the divide, then activated his new fire spell.

  The ingredients in his hand sputtered and disappeared.

  "Spell failed!"

  "What the hell?" muttered Wulfgar. "Spell failed?"

  "Yes," answered the girl's voice within his head. "If your spell level is higher than your magic level, you can fail."

  "Why?"

  "Spells can be learned through scrolls, as you have seen. Spells are imbued within the scroll with the level of the magician creating the scroll. Any sorcerer can read that scroll to learn the spell, but if they are not the equal or greater in power to the creator of the scro
ll, they will always have a chance to fail. Until, of course, they achieve a mastery equivalent to the level of the spell."

  Wulfgar nodded then closed his eyes and meditated. He felt his mana regenerating at an increased rate. As he felt his mana fill, he opened his eyes.

  "Congratulations! You have gained a level in Meditation!"

  Wulfgar grimaced then pulled another handful of herbs. Again he concentrated on the knot and activated the fire spell.

  This time, the ingredients seemed to leap from his hand and become a ball of flame that raced across the open space and exploded against the rope, which began to burn vigorously.

  As he watched, the flame worked away at the rope. He closed his eyes momentarily, attempting to meditate, but realized that the cool-down period hadn't passed since his last meditation, so he reopened his eyes in time to see the last strand of rope fail and the drawbridge fall to pound into the stones just in front of Wulfgar's toes.

  Wulfgar crossed the bridge and reached the door at the end. As his hand found the iron ring hanging from the portal he again heard a voice within his head.

  "You have accepted the initiation quest Passing the Torch from the Magic User's Guild."

  "Congratulations! You have gained a level in Sorcery!"

  He pulled up short. He felt his mana begin to raise to the new level provided by his increase in his magical proficiency.

  "Wait," he said, "all of this wasn't my initiation?"

  He received no answer.

  Frowning, he pulled up the quest description and read it.

  "At some point in the future, you will be called upon to shepherd another new initiate through the beginning of the training process. That's it. Pretty easy. Until then, you're probationary, which means that you can cancel the quest and opt out of the guild. No penalties (apart from losing your nifty new Magus abilities). If you still want in, just do nothing and wait until we call on you. I hope I see you around sometime!"

  It was signed 'Jeremiah'.

  "OK," mumbled Wulfgar as he pulled open the door, "I guess I'm a wizard now. A sorcerer," he corrected himself, "whatever the distinction is."