Creation Mage 4

by Dante King

  “Right,” Nigel said, “because while that might serve individual strength, it might be detrimental to the team as a whole.”

  “You said it, Nigel,” I replied. “Also, using that logic, there’s not really much point in all of us spreading ourselves too wide when it comes to spells.”

  “You’re thinking that each man should try and fill a role of sorts, friend?” Rick rumbled, an entire fried egg jiggling on the end of his fork.

  “That’s right, Hammersmith,” I said thickly through a mouthful of bacon. I swallowed. “I reckon each of us should pick a specialty and hone our skills toward that specialty. That means that, as a team, we’ll be a lot more effective.”

  Damien nodded and slurped his coffee. “Yeah, I can see that. I mean, essentially, the Mage Games is a sport, right? Sure, you run the risk of being merked, but it’s a team game where the goal is to beat the other teams. It’s no different, really, to having offensive tackles and defensive tackles, running backs and linebackers in the NFL.”

  The three mages that had been born and raised in Avalonia, and who wouldn’t know what a quarterback was if one was plonked in their lap and covered in Reddi-Wip, looked at me.

  “Doesn’t matter,” I said, “but Damien is right. It is just another sport, and if we want to win at it, then I think we need to have set roles.”

  I spared a few moments to dwell on the spell aspect of things. If I broached the subject of particular spells right now, then we would be discussing the merits of individual spells for hours.

  Briefly, I contemplated all the spells that I had already attained from sleeping with the women in my life; spells from Storm, Fire, Earth, Ice, and Infernal— and spells that had been categorized in my spellbook as ‘hybrid’.

  I wondered how many other possibilities there were. Did anyone really know?

  There was, I figured, really only one way to find out.

  “So, these roles,” Bradley asked, dabbing mustard onto a piece of wild boar sausage, “what do you see them as?”

  “Allow me to field this one, Justin,” Nigel said as I opened my mouth to answer.

  I nodded and, instead of speaking, chucked a forkful of egg and spinach into my open gob.

  “There are many tactics and a history of utilized strategies when it comes to the Mage Games,” the halfling said, refilling his coffee cup and leaning back in his chair. “Broadly speaking though, there are three positions within a team that are generally agreed upon: offensive, defensive, and support.”

  “Easy enough to remember,” Rick grunted.

  “That’s correct,” Nigel said. “Within these three primary roles though, there are numerous subcategories—slightly different variations of the roles. For instance, in the offensive role, a mage might focus on being good at attacking a single target or on an area of effect. ”

  “For those of us whose brains are scrambled from that fraternity blowout,” Damien said. “What does ‘area of effect’ mean, Nigel?”

  Nigel chewed a bit of egg thoughtfully, swallowed, and then said, “You know that Tundra Tempest spell that Justin used against the Death Mages? And Rick’s Earth Surge spell that sends out a wave of rippling earth? Those would be area of effect attacks—attacks that are a bit more indiscriminate than those that focus on just one specific enemy.”

  “Like the magical equivalent of an arrow storm?” Damien asked.

  “Exactly,” Nigel said. “Then, within the defensive roles, you might generally have mages that concentrate on party defense, which is defending the team as a whole. Or others that use spells that boost only their own defensive abilities. These mages usually take on the responsibility of drawing opposition fire or protecting other members of their own team. They generally make a nuisance of themselves so that the other team expends time and energy trying to annihilate them.”

  “Tanks,” I muttered under my breath, thinking of the many video games I’d played when I should have been studying back on Earth.

  “The support role is pretty self-explanatory, I guess,” Nigel said. “Defensively, spells are used to repair their teammates’ armor and weapons, heal them, and boost things like speed, strength, and mana. Offensively, support mages just back up the mages in their squad that go on the all out-and-out attack. Then, there are the mages who will support their teammates by cursing the opposition.”

  “Cursing?” Rick rumbled.

  “Yeah, you know the sort of thing,” Nigel said. “The more passive-aggressive type of spells that might make opposition mages lethargic and stuff. Spells that debilitate rather than eliminate.”

  “Like that Compulsion spell that I acquired from Madame Xel?” I asked the Wind Mage. “The one that fans up a person’s anger until they totally lose their judgment and do something stupid?”

  “That’d be the sort of thing, yes,” Nigel said.

  I clapped my hands and refilled my coffee cup. “All right, well I think that’s as nice and easy a little explanation as any of us could wish to hear, yeah?”

  There were rumbles of assent from around the table as my frat brothers finished up their meals; mopping up egg yolk with bits of bread, skewering the last recalcitrant scraps of egg and bacon, and using segments of sausage to sweep up the last of their spinach and tomatoes.

  “Well?” I asked.

  “Well what?” Bradley asked, savoring the last mouthful of his roasted red peppers.

  “Well, what roles do you guys think you’re suited to?” I asked.

  Bradley smacked his lips. “Well, I think I bloody well know.”

  “Oh, yeah?” I asked.

  “Well, I have my Crimson Titan spell, don’t I?” Bradley said. “It makes sense that I start looking and attaining some more spells to augment that particular ability.”

  “You can do that?” I asked. “You can get spells that will make the Crimson Titan spell even more potent?”

  “Oh, sure,” Bradley said. “I know that I can get the Inscribers to give me a spell that’ll provide me with mana-cannons instead of arms—bloody great for laying down suppressive fire, but not so brilliant for doing anything that requires fingers.”

  “Makes sense to me,” I said. “And we can have you using that spell in a roaming defensive-offensive capacity. Taking on whatever role as and when required.

  Bradley gave me a thumbs up and started to gather the plates in.

  “I think that I would be good in a similar position, friend,” Rick said. He put down his plate. He had just licked it clean so assiduously that it was likely cleaner than when it was new. “I’m thinking that I’ll try to get stronger, more powerful. To use my Earth magic affinities to become more resistant to other magics. I can learn a spell that I have heard of, one that enables the caster to erect stone walls around their allies. Might come in handy during Capture the Flag rounds and the like.”

  “I always said you were sharpest just after you’d eaten, Rick,” I said, giving the big islander a wink. “You’ve earned some dessert.”

  Rick sat up a little straighter at the mention of dessert, but then relaxed back into his chair when he saw that I was kidding.

  “What about you, Nigel?” I asked. “You’re the man with all the answers usually.”

  “I have been ruminating on this for some time now,” Nigel said. “And I think I will be of most use to the team in a support position.”

  “I was going to suggest that very thing,” I said, nodding my agreement. “You’re the brains of this operation, Nigel, and brains are always of more use to a group when they are tucked safely inside a skull, rather than strewn about the place like Silly String.”

  “That wasn’t my primary motive in choosing a support role,” Nigel said. “I was just thinking, you know, that I can fly and I am the only one out of all of us that can do that without burning a cauldron-load of mana. That could come in handy shooting around the arena and helping where necessary, as well as tracking opposition movements.”

  “You’re not wrong, Nigel,” I said. �
��Damien, what are you thinking?”

  “Well, I was leaning more toward the offensive position,” Damien said slowly, spinning a knife between his fingers. “I don’t have the patience for too much defense work. Never did have when I was running on the streets of L.A.”

  “All right,” I said, “well, I guess that makes two of us.”

  “You’re going on offense too?” Damien asked.

  “‘Course he is,” rumbled Rick.

  Damien grinned. “Yeah, I guess that was a given, huh. Well, I’m not going to squabble with you about who does what. I can concentrate more on perfecting my Fireball technique. You know, learn how to rain death from afar. There are a bunch of subtle Fireball variations—size, range, effect when they impact the target, and the number of projectiles that you can fire at once—so they’d be handy.” He grinned at me. “I know that you’re not ever happy unless you’ve got your nose pressed nice and close to the devil’s window. You wreak havoc up close and personal, and I’ll nail them from afar. What do you reckon?”

  I smiled and looked around. “Goddamn it, guys. We really do some good work around this table, huh?”

  The boys beamed back at me. There was backslapping and high-fiving as accompanies most decisions made by an all-male group.

  “So, we have our game-plan,” Bradley said. “When do we get started with the whole honing and sharpening of skills component of this strategy?”

  I surveyed the assembled fraternity brothers. After a few mugs of that Ifrit coffee and another one of Bradley’s epic breakfasts—which were becoming a byword for a hangover cure—the lads had regained that twinkle in their eyes.

  “Shit, we’re fed and watered aren’t we?” I said. “Why not start now?”

  Looks were exchanged. Chair legs screeched on the stone flags as chairs were pushed away from the table.

  “Hell yes,” Damien said. “Now that you come to mention it, I do feel like fucking up some monsters.”

  “It’ll certainly shake the cobwebs,” Nigel said, getting to his feet and cracking his fingers enthusiastically.

  “Boys,” I said, “have I ever told you how proud I am of you bastards? Look at us go. Not long ago we were just a handful of extremely good-looking, charming, talented mages thrown together by fate. Now, we’re a handful of extremely good-looking, charming, talented mages thrown together by fate, who also have a plan to leave their mark on the Mazirian Academy.”

  “So grown up,” Rick rumbled with mock solemnity.

  “I think we’re also on the cusp of figuring out the spell which will allow us to transform Mage Game victories into the hunka chunka with some nubile young ladies,” Damien called as he walked out the kitchen door.

  I laughed at this.“The greatest spell of all. You’ve got such high aspirations, Damien!”

  The five of us exited the kitchen and made our way slowly across the hall. Nigel was walking ahead of me, doing a series of complex arm stretches—I guessed he’d missed his usual morning yoga session.

  As we ambled across the hall, I turned my mind to my very specific type of training. If I wanted more spells to add to my arsenal I was going to have to start fitting a whole heap more sex with the ladies into my life, as well as some new ones besides. I’d have to treat it as a round-robin; mixing up combinations and trying out new partners.

  I wonder if I can direct my spell acquisition in some way, I thought. That’d save me a lot of time messing about—not that messing around with naked women was so bad—and clarify how obtaining spells as a Creation Mage actually works.

  I was just about to follow Nigel and the rest of the boys down the steps to the dungeon when Barry popped out of nowhere and asked me for a word.

  “Yeah, Barry?” I said.

  “There is a visitor here to see you, captain,” the poltergeist said. “A female visitor.”

  I looked over at the front door. “I don’t hear anyone—”

  Someone knocked on the door.

  “Shit, Barry,” I said, “you’re pretty slick for a dead man.”

  “Thank ye, sir,” the ghost said, smiling as only a man with no lips can.

  “I’ll catch you up with you later,” I told the fraternity boys. “Go and get a few kills in before I come down and start hogging them all.”

  The rest of the crew carried on while I went and opened the front door.

  “Odette Scaleblade,” I said, holding the door open for her and gesturing into the hallway, “what a pleasure. Come on in.”

  Odette Scaleblade swept gracefully into the room, her dragon tail whipping along behind her as she crossed the threshold. There was something very regal about the woman, despite the fact that she was dressed as a gypsy. With her long sweeping horns protruding out from the mess of raven curls, her eyeliner heavy eyes, and her slightly golden skin, there was something otherworldly about her—and that was saying something in Avalonia.

  “I won’t beat about the bush.” Odette glanced around the hall and then raised an eyebrow at me. “Admirable work at the clean-up, by the way.”

  I shrugged. “I’d like to say that I had something—anything—to do with it, but it was all Barry. That guy is a demon with a broom and duster.”

  “He’s a poltergeist,” Odette said.

  “That too. Now, what can I help you with?”

  “It’s more what I can do for you.” Odette toyed with one of her black curls and looked at me from under those heavy lids of hers.

  I wish it was more about what she could do to me, I thought before I could stop myself.

  “I think I have found the means to communicate with that black staff of yours,” Odette said.

  I made a little noise of surprise. I hadn’t been expecting that.

  “I’d very much like to have a chat with that genocidal parent of mine. Unfortunately, right now, I have to get my ass into training with the rest of the frat.”

  The front door opened again with a dull creak, and Enwyn Emberskull strolled in.

  “We thought you might say something like that,” she said.

  “We?” I asked.

  Enwyn smiled and gave me a wink. Then, suddenly, Madame Xel, Janet, Cecilia, and Princess Alura appeared in the doorway and walked toward me.

  I looked around at the assembled plethora of babes. That lineup would have made a great screensaver.

  “We’ve been convening, darling,” Cecilia said, stepping forward and patting me on the arm.

  “Working on a side project, babe,” Janet said. “Learning what it means to be a Creation Mage. Creation is the key word, right?”

  “Well, yeah, I guess,” I said, not quite sure what they were getting at. I was eager to get down to the dungeon with the boys, but manners prevented me from telling the women to chop-chop with the info.

  “We have discovered, we think,” Alura said, shimmering and twinkling as she stepped forward, “that Creation Mages can actually create spells.”

  “I was just thinking about this!” I said. “You guys figured out how I can do that?”

  Alura looked at the others.

  “Not quite,” Odette said. “We know that there is a way, but if that method was ever recorded, then the Arcane Council has probably destroyed or hidden it.”

  I sighed. “It’s never that easy is it?”

  “Well, we think that if anyone knows, it’ll be your father, Justin,” Odette said.

  I nodded. In my opinion, this all seemed a little bit Angelina Jolie—just a little bit thin for comfort.

  “Ladies,” I said politely, “I love having you come around like this, but the Qualifiers are in three days. If I’m going to win, I can think of something more beneficial than talking with dear ol’ dad.”

  “And that is?” Cecilia asked.

  I tried to keep the smile from my face. “You all join me in my room for the next three days. I lock the door, and we embark on the mother of all orgies.”

  The women grinned around at one another, but Odette took me by the hand and pressed i
t.

  “The thing is though, Mr. Mauler,” she said, “your powers might have limits. You might eventually stop learning spells.”

  “She’s right, Justin,” Enwyn said.

  Janet nodded. “The books we’ve been looking at in the library, there’s not much on Creation Mages, but what’s there suggests that you can’t just go learning as many spells as you please. You might just, you know, do the dirty with one of us only to find that you’ve hit your limit.”

  “Any idea what that limit is?” I asked. “Surely I can’t be close to it yet.”

  Janet shrugged. “It differs with each Creation Mage, apparently. There’s no way to know where your limit is.”

  “Then why speak to my dad?”

  “Because Zenidor had no limits,” Odette said. “Well, that’s not exactly true. He had limits, but he learned how to break them.”

  Enwyn took my hand. “If you can talk to your father, then we might be able to help you become one of the most powerful, versatile War Mages who ever lived.”

  “And if it fails, darling,” Cecilia said, “we can always give your plan a go.” She stuck her tongue between her teeth and gave my arm a squeeze.

  “With all of you?” I asked.

  “With all of us,” Madame Xel said. “I even have a potion that will keep you going from moonrise to moonrise without fail.”

  Fuck it, I thought. That’s the very definition of a win-win.

  “All right, I’ll try it your way,” I said, smiling encouragingly at Odette. “Tell me, how do I speak with the old man?”

  Odette cocked her head to one side and smiled a slow, calculating smile. I imagined it was the last thing that many opponents had seen, back when she was a War Mage herself.

  “You must commit murder,” she said. “A few murders, in fact.”

  I looked around at the girls. Their faces were cool and calm. The faces of warriors.

  “Of course,” I said, “why would I expect anything less?”