Creation Mage 5

by Dante King

  Bradley considered this. “That’s an angle I hadn’t thought about before,” he admitted.

  “This could be the idea that nets you a ton of gold, man!” I said enthusiastically, clapping Bradley on the shoulder.

  “My family already have a ton of gold,” he mused. “Although, it might be handy to have another ton of gold, if they cut me off from my inheritance when they find out I’ve been sullying myself by cooking.”

  I shook my head and swallowed the last of the bar. I watched it down with a mouthful of coffee. “I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again, rich people have their own special branch of insanity.”

  “And I’ll counter with something that has been said many times before,” Bradley said, smiling and swiping his hand through his hair again, “when you’re stinking rich, you can’t be nuts, you can only be eccentric.”

  I laughed at that. “That’s on the money.” I pushed back my stool and stood up. “I’m going down to pay Idman a visit.”

  There was a rumbling from upstairs; the sound of doors opening and closing, the groaning of ancient plumbing as toilets were flushed and showers turned on.

  “Make sure the others are good to go ASAP,” I said to Bradley. “Whip up a few more of those legendary bars for them.”

  “That’s the plan,” Bradley said, turning back to the range. “What’re you going to see Idman about?”

  “Just a chat,” I said as I opened the kitchen door. “Just a little reiteration of the point I was trying to make to him last night.”

  I walked through the hallway, opened the door to the dungeons, and descended the chilly stone spiral staircase.

  The dungeon looked much as it always did. It always reminded me of a dojo crossed with a gym crossed with a Shakespearean theater. One thing that I did notice about it though, was that it was markedly tidier than it had been the last time that I had visited it.

  That’d be the Priestess Entwistle’s touch, maybe, I thought. Or, at least, her influence on Barry.

  All the long-range spell targets and mannequins were neatly stacked and arranged in order of size, as well as in condition of how burned, melted, or generally fucked up they were. There were no used towels lying about the place. Not a single one of the enormous and terrifyingly stained jockstraps that Rick insisted on wearing during practice sessions was hanging from any of the candelabras.

  Idman, Barry, and Mallory were chatting near the back of the room. Here, amongst the potion making equipment and a small forge that never got used for its intended purpose, Barry had built a small kitchenette of sorts. The fire in the forge was going and letting off a cozy warmth, and a battered coffee pot sat on the edge of the coals.

  “Justin,” Mallory greeted me with a smile. She was dressed in her pristine white robes again. With her flowing golden hair, porcelain white skin, angelic wings, and overall Galadriel aesthetic, she looked like she had just stepped out of the pages of a high-class gentlemen’s magazine that probably sat on the coffee tables in the waiting room outside of the Pearly Gates.

  “Morning Mallory,” I said. “I have to say, you’re looking none the worse for wear for sharing quarters with a couple of fugitives.”

  Mallory looked over at Barry and Idman. “They have been consummate gentlemen.”

  I scanned the comment for sarcasm—not so much with regards to Idman, who was an austerely mannered man, but Barry…

  “The poltergeist behaved himself?” I asked.

  Mallory beamed her coruscating smile on Barry Chillgrave. “Oh yes,” she said, “he has been nothing but helpful since my arrival last night. With a few little touches here and there, I shall feel quite at home.”

  I looked at Barry. The poltergeist was staring at Priestess Entwistle with the soppy, besotted gaze that Labradors normally reserve for their owners.

  “Ri-ight,” I said slowly. “Anyways, I’m in a bit of a rush and need to have another quick word with Idman.”

  At the mention of his name Idman looked up from where he had been gazing unblinkingly into the forge fire. I noticed that his eyes were a little sunken and his usually neat hair was slightly unkempt.

  It was only then that I realized I had not even asked Janet whether she had managed to acquire some pixie dust before she got herself kidnapped. Even if she had, she had been changed into that insanely hot Princess Leia outfit, and I doubted she could have kept any drugs she had on her.

  Are we going to have to deal with an Idman Thunderstone going through withdrawals? I wondered.

  I walked over to Idman and fixed him with an unblinking eye.

  “I just wanted to repeat what we went over last night,” I said.

  Idman gave me a coldly sarcastic smile. “Trust me, Mr. Mauler, I’m well aware of the truth in what you said. I will endeavor to overcome this little hiccup in my self-control.”

  “Good,” I said, “because I could really use that cunning and knowledgeable mind of yours. I could put it to good use for the sake of this fraternity house. Not to mention whatever the hell the future holds for all of us.”

  Idman nodded. “I shall, as the youth say, aspire to get my head on straight.”

  “That’s all I ask,” I said, nodding. “We already have the Chaosbanes covering all available screwball positions in our little group. I don’t think we need any more just yet.”

  Idman nodded his agreement and turned back to gaze into the forge fire, clasping his enamel coffee cup with both hands.

  I took my leave then, waving at Barry who raised a dazed hand in my direction and then went back to staring worshipfully at Mallory Entwistle.

  “Justin!” Mallory called to me when I was halfway across the floor.

  “Mallory,” I said, turning.

  “I would really like and appreciate being allowed out to play on this wonderful day,” she said.

  “Play?” I asked.

  “The festivals before the mage games are something that I would very much like to participate in—it has been a good few years since I last got to revel in one,” Mallory explained. “It reminds me of when I was younger and used to compete, during my time at the Academy. Before I began my ascendency to become a Priestess.”

  I nodded. “I feel you, I do,” I said. “You’re being tugged at by the allure of nostalgia. That’s a powerful pull, I’m sure. However, I’m not one-hundred percent sure what I’m supposed to be doing with you just yet, so let me talk to Headmaster Chaosbane and see what he thinks. He is, after all, the man with the plan.”

  I caught Mallory’s eye. “Well, he’s probably at least a man with a plan,” I said.

  Mallory kept looking at me.

  “Fine, well, he probably has at least a vague notion as to what the hell is going on around him, or so we hope,” I corrected myself. “In any case, I’d rather chat to him before we make any decisions that might adversely affect all of us in some way, should it be discovered that you’re hiding out here with us. Okay?”

  “Much appreciated,” Mallory said, and she drifted back off to where Barry and Idman were sitting in quiet contemplation around the forge fire.

  As I exited the spiral staircase and re-entered the main hallway, my ears were greeted by a sudden burst of cackling. It sounded like it was coming from out the front of the house, from either the porch or the front garden.

  “Wow, that must be a new record, even for this madhouse,” I said amiably to myself as I made my way to the front door and slid the bolts free. “Maniacal laughter and the sun has barely risen… All signs point toward another ridiculous day in paradise.”

  From behind me, I heard the kitchen door swing open and Nigel Windmaker say, “Who the f-fuck is that making all the d-d-d-dang racket? Some of us are suffering the grog horrors and are waiting on the coffee jug.”

  “You go back in the kitchen, sweetcheeks,” I said, turning. “I’ll deal with this.”

  Nigel flipped me the bird, and his be-spectacled head disappeared.

  I pulled open the door, my palm tingling in t
he way that it did when I was on the verge of conjuring up my black crystal staff.

  “Leah Chaosbane,” I said, “how’re you going this morning?”

  The only female Chaosbane, at least the only female Chaosbane that I had met so far, was running around outside like a demented, pink-haired border collie. She was laughing to herself, evidently having a whale of a time, and didn’t hear my greeting.

  There was a pattering of small feet behind me. Nigel shoved me aside with his sharp little halfling elbow and stared out into the garden.

  “Wow,” he whispered, “she’s incredible, isn’t she?”

  “Man, if it wasn’t for the sound of your footsteps, I would’ve sworn that you just flew over here,” I said.

  Nigel flushed crimson. “Well, y-y-you know, she’s interesting isn’t she?” he said defensively.

  I couldn’t contradict that. There was something of Harley Quinn about the woman. Something unpredictable. Something that made you not want to turn your back on her in case she sank her teeth into your ass like a rabid dog.

  A very attractive, long-legged, flexible, and athletic rabid dog.

  She was running full tilt around the small front garden, waving something around over her head, while Ar-undead, our resident guard-zombie, chased her.

  “She reminds me of s-s-s-some carefree fairy running about with a wand, blossoming bubbles out of it,” Nigel said dreamily.

  I raised my eyebrows at him, but he missed that because his eyes were glued on Leah—and also because he had the stature of a halfling.

  “That one of your little fetishes, is it?” I asked.

  “No,” Nigel said defensively.

  I squinted out to where Leah was running up and down the rosemary bushes. Ar-undead gamboled along at her heels and tried to grab the thing she was trailing behind her.

  “Uh, is that a… Is that a severed human arm she’s twirling around like a fucking ribbon in the rythmic gymnastics?” I asked casually.

  Nigel considered this for a moment. “Um, n-n-no.”

  “Good.”

  “It’s a severed t-troll arm, I believe.”

  I sighed. “Oh, yeah,” I said, “that’s better.”

  Damien came to stand behind us while we watched Leah and Ar-undead.

  “Hey man,” I said, not taking my eyes off the macabre game of cat and mouse being played out in front of us.

  “Hey,” Damien said. He was chowing down on one of Bradley’s breakfast bars. He was dressed in his habitual black pants, boots, and no shirt. Damien, being a Fire Mage, often burned through his shirts and had mostly given up wearing them. He had the well muscled, lean body of a parkour addict though, and was able to heat himself up through his magic if he ever got cold, so this lack of clothing never fazed him.

  Damien leaned against the doorframe and chewed slowly on the breakfast bar.

  “These are fucking yum,” he remarked, staring out at the zombie chasing the hot girl around our garden.

  “Yeah, they are,” I agreed.

  We watched without speaking, as Leah tossed her grizzly accessory away into a bush and Ar-undead went sprinting after it.

  “Is she playing fetch with Ar-undead?” Damien asked.

  “Yeah,” I said.

  “With a fucking severed human arm?” Damien said, taking another bite of his breakfast bar.

  “T-troll arm,” Nigel said.

  “Right,” Damien said. He popped the rest of the protein-packed breakfast bar into his mouth and masticated lazily.

  “These are fucking yum,” he repeated.

  Nigel nodded. “Rather healthy too.”

  Leah loped over to us. Her face was split by a grin that might have been considered a little unstable on the face of someone less pretty.

  “Oh me oh my!” she said as she came to halt in front of us. Her chest was heaving in that especially distracting way that happened with women of a certain cup size. “Look at this nimiety of eye-candy on show! I must have been born under a lucky star to warrant such a gathering of fine, strong, suave young men.”

  Leah pulled out one of her black cigarettes from somewhere, stuck it between her lips, and said, “Anyone got a light?”

  A tiny globe of fire, as small as a marble, appeared in Damien’s palm. It shot out, ignited the end of Leah's cigarette, and then retracted back into his palm. Damien closed his hand and snuffed it out.

  I raised an admiring eyebrow at my fraternity brother.

  “What can I say?” the Fire Mage said. “I’ve been practising. You should see a few of the other tricks I’ve got up my sleeves.”

  “Where did you get the arm, Leah?” I asked.

  “Arm, pumpkin?” Leah asked in her dreamy voice, exhaling smoke and gazing at me curiously.

  “The severed arm that you just lobbed into the garden?” I said.

  “Oh! Yes! The arm, the arm, the arm! Silly me. Um, yes, well, I decided to go out on a bounty contract with Mort last night and things ended up getting a little boisterous with this troll that he was bringing in. You know the sort of thing; Mort asked whether they wanted to come quietly, and then I blew the troll’s arm off before he could flip him the bird. Classic bounty hunt.”

  “And then you brought back the arm?” Damien said.

  Leah inhaled a mouthful of smoke, then breathed it out of her nose in twin streams that somehow intertwined.

  “Of course, you luscious cherrypudding! I’m not going to waste a perfectly good severed limb, am I? Not when I know there’s a zombie that could do with a bit of meat waiting back here.”

  “But, why did you c-c-c-come back here at all?” Nigel asked.

  “What?” purred Leah, leaning forward and switching on the charm. “Do you not like me being here, you tiny, cute, bundle of halfling delight?”

  Nigel made a few noises that sounded like someone trying to pull their boot out of thick mud, but no words came out.

  “I think he was just wondering what brought you back here, considering that everyone is going to be heading to the Mage Games Qualifiers today,” I said.

  Leah snapped her fingers. “The Mage Games Qualifiers! There’s my reason for coming back. Duh!”

  “You’re coming to watch?” I asked.

  “Well, of course,” Leah replied. “Excuse me for saying so, Justin Mauler, but you are something that captivates me on a deeply metaphysical and spiritual plane.” She took a deep pull on her cigarette and the smoke that streamed out of her nostrils performed a backward loop-the-loop.

  “That’s...nice of you to say,” I said.

  “Yes, I suppose it is,” Leah said.”I feel that watching you at the Qualifiers will give me a thrill. It will inspire me. And who wants to spit in the face of inspiration, hm?”

  She reached out then and caressed my cheek. Then her hand dropped, and she patted Nigel on the head.

  “Adorable,” she said. “I shall see you boys down there, I’m sure.”

  Before I could make—or even think of—any answer to this, the heavy footfalls of Rick approaching made me, Nigel, and Damien turn on the spot. The big Islander was accompanied by Bradley Flamewalker.

  Rick, with his thick slabs of dark muscle and his traditional grass and leather skirt—which was also his vector—walking along next to the prim and proper figure of Bradley, was an interesting juxtaposition. I loved to see it though, because it perfectly summed up the ragtag assortment of characters within our fraternity. Rick was from as humble an island as could be found, whereas Bradley was part of one of the oldest, wealthiest, and most revered magical houses in Avalonia. It was a sign of how accepting and inclusive our fraternity was—not just concerning its few members, but also the friends we had brought into it from outside the fold.

  “Are you chaps all ready to go?” Bradley asked.

  “Sure are, I think,” I said.

  I turned back to ask Leah whether she’d be happy to head to the Academy’s arena with us, but when I revolved on the spot and opened my mouth, I found that she had
disappeared.

  “Hm,” I said. “Classic Chaosbane.”

  “Shall we take the broomsticks down to the Academy?” Damien asked.

  I nodded. “Shit, yeah. Why not? I’m not sure of the exact rules of the Qualifiers, but it’s going to be better to have them and not need them, then want them and not have them.”

  Rick sighed the sigh of a man who was neither built for aerial flight nor interested in it.

  “Okay, friends,” he said philosophically, “I guess it’s better to master fear than let it master you. Fear’s the great disabler after all, eh? But can we maybe take it slow?”

  I laughed and started to lead the way around the house to where we kept the broomsticks in the wood shed.

  “Sure, bud,” I said, “we’ll make good time, even if we just cruise.”

  Chapter Ten

  Being on the top of the hill meant that we were ideally positioned for take off, as far as Rick was concerned. He was a big, solid lad, and our broomsticks, even though they were top of the range, struggled a little to get him airborne. He had about as much aerial grace and confidence as an ice-cream van being driven off a cliff, so the high ground would give him as much of an advantage as possible.

  My toes skimmed across the grass and water as we boosted across the lawn, over the new swimming pool, and off the edge of the steep hill on top of which our fraternity was perched. I smiled to myself as Rick said “Sweet fuck!” on takeoff.

  Once we had leveled off and were flying in smooth formation, I decided to run through tactics for the day.

  “So, Damien,” I said, “what other little tricks have you got up your sleeve to go with that retracting fireball?”

  Damien’s eyes were screwed up against the glare of the morning sun, but he grinned widely at my question.

  “Well, man,” he replied, raising his voice slightly over the rush of the wind, “I’ve been perfecting the old Fireballs—accuracy, size, power, and whatnot. But, what I’m really keen on trying is my new Meteor spell.”

  “Meteor spell? What’s that?” I asked.

  “Just a rain of fire, man,” Damien said happily. “I can choose whether to bring down a big MacDaddy of a fireball from the sky, or a host of smaller ones. Depends on whether or not I’m aiming for one large target or a bunch of smaller ones.”