The Titan's Tome

by M. B. Schroeder

  Madger went to the door again and opened it, an elderly woman wrapped in a woolen shawl stepped back and craned her neck back to look up at her.

  “Oh! I’d expected Gerran. Well, here’s your clothes, dear. Three sets for you now.”

  Madger took the package. “Thank you.”

  “Is that tea I smell?” The old woman’s nose apparently hadn’t failed her yet. “I do love the tea Gerran gets.”

  Madger glanced back at the kettle hanging over the fire. “Yes.”

  “It is cold out here. Mind if I come in for a nip before I head home?”

  Madger stepped back from the door. The old woman had overcome her fear of her when she had to measure Madger to properly fit her clothes. Risa, Madger recalled, that was her name. Risa kicked her shoes against the thresh hold to clear the wet snow and water from them and stepped inside.

  Madger swung the door shut to keep the heat in. She set aside the package of clothes and grabbed a little cup, little for her, and poured some tea for the woman. She imagined that in most cultures it was best to serve elders and guests, though the woman had practically invited herself in.

  Risa shook off her shawl and laid it aside. Her gray hair was up in a bun, but it had been messed under the cover. She sat at the little table to the left of the door and sipped at the steaming cup. “Mmm, good.”

  Madger sat back down in her spot, standing hunched over was irritating. She picked up her book to read until Risa finished her tea.

  “Will you be going home soon?” Risa asked. “I know Gerran said he found you half-drowned at the river, but you have a home don’t ya?”

  Madger peered over the top of the book at the woman. “No home.”

  “No?” Risa gasped and slurped noisily at the tea. “Did it burn down? Have to be careful with the fires in winter.”

  “Caves don’t burn down.” Madger set the book aside. Some women gossiped. It was a fault her aunt had, constantly talking with the other women around her, whether they wanted conversation or not.

  “You lived in a cave? Dreadful!”

  Madger didn’t answer that.

  “I grew up in a mill. Terribly noisy, but when you grow up somewhere, you get used to things. I suppose you got used to a cave.” Risa sipped her tea and continued, not giving Madger time to answer. “When I married my dear departed Yorin, and moved to our little house, I could hardly sleep. Without that thump thump of the waterwheel and the river. You know what I mean?”

  Madger opened her mouth, but Risa was continuing. “Yorin made me this cute little contraption. He was a woodwright. Anyway, he made this cute little wooden thing that would turn and make a soft thump thump so I could get to sleep. Of course, it wasn’t nearly as loud as the mill.”

  Madger bit her tongue and nodded. She wished she hadn’t filled the cup so full. Risa droned on about her life, Yorin, his workshop, and how she started tailoring. Madger thought she might fall asleep, and considered it.

  Risa drained the last of her tea. “Oh, but listen to me prattling on. I need to get back to my shop. Thank you for the tea, dear.”

  Madger stood and let Risa out, she didn’t say a word and closed the door. She sat back down and picked up her own tea, and found it cold. Muttering curses in her native tongue, she poured the liquid back into the kettle and tipped out a new cup worth. She tossed another log on the fire and settled down with her book. She read two pages, had a sip of tea, and there was another knock.

  “Earth’s bones.”

  Madger went to the door again and jerked it open. Three dirty children startled back from her and one screamed.

  “Stop it Jorn,” hissed the ragged blonde girl in front. “I told you Gerran had a giant.”

  Madger scowled, she didn’t think Gerran owned her. She would have to ask him about that. “What do you want?”

  The children wore little better than rags and shivered in the gusts of wind that carried sharp stings of snow. “The baker didn’t have any leftover bread. Sometimes Gerran will give us his crusts,” the blonde girl said. Her hair was a mass of tangles that made a halo around her head.

  Madger looked from her to the smaller brown haired boy who had screamed, to the other boy who was only slightly taller than the girl but looked even thinner than her. Madger sighed, she understood hunger. “There’s some left.” Before she could turn to fetch the crust for them, the children rushed inside past her. Madger blinked and stared at them as they greedily snatched the remains of the loaf and broke it apart for themselves. With a dejected grunt she shut the door.

  “Thank you,” the girl mumbled around a mouthful. “Sometimes when it’s cold like this Gerran lets us stay warm by his fire.”

  Madger sat heavily in her spot. “I’m sure he does.”

  “Since the urchin’s home burned down…”

  Madger caught herself from rolling her eyes. “Have to be careful with the fires in winter.”

  “That’s right. Well, since it burned down, the other folk in town been looking after us. But, Risa wasn’t home.”

  Madger rubbed at the bridge of her nose. Of course not.

  “Usually, she likes to have us around, since she doesn’t have anyone else.” The girl stuffed the last of the bread in her mouth making her cheeks puff out.

  Madger let out a relieved breath. That would keep her quiet.

  “We saw the smoke from Gerran’s chimney and thought he would be home,” the tall skinny boy said. “Besides, Jula said Gerran had a giant.” He swallowed when Madger focused on him. “Well, we’d never seen a giant. Most people around here haven’t.”

  “Some of the mountain men have,” the smaller boy, Jorn, piped.

  “Yeah, but they don’t live here,” the skinny boy answered.

  Madger rubbed at the bridge of her nose. Did humans never tire of talking?

  Jula finally chewed the bread down enough so she could ask, “Is that Gerran’s tea?”

  Madger looked back at the steaming kettle but didn’t get a chance to answer.

  “Oh, we love his tea. Can we have some?” she asked.

  Madger blew a huff of air out her nose, but went about getting the cup Risa had used and Gerran’s. She poured out the last of it, looked morosely at her own large mug and gave the children all three. They were as homeless as she was.

  Madger slumped back in her spot as the children talked amongst themselves. Her eyelids drooped as she listened to them, not hearing everything they said. Occasionally they giggled, and she was aware they looked back at her when they did. What was she supposed to do about them giggling at her? She shut her eyes with a sigh, and not intending to, fell asleep.

  Kharick’s voice brought her out of her sleep. “Look there, I told ya the kiddies would be all right.”

  Madger blinked at Kharick and Gerran giving her a bemused look. Around her, the children had settled onto the blankets she had been using for bedding.

  It began the term, Gerran’s gentle giant, being used around the town. Madger detested the name. Gerran didn’t own her, he confirmed that, and was shocked she would ask. And to call her by the name of her species, not even her race, as though she didn’t have a name. It only pointed out how different she was from them, as if anyone needed reminding.

  ***

  For the next three days, she would go into town with Kharick to buy food or run some errands. The first day she helped finish the work on the top of the chimney. The mason wanted it another few feet above the thatch of the roof. Gerran had used up much of his magic the day before and stayed at home to rest and recover. Madger could pick up the bricks from the ground and hand them up to the mason without having to rely on magic. It tired her more than she thought it would and she spent the rest of the day asleep in Gerran’s house.

  That evening after they’d cleaned up from supper, Madger bumped some of the herbs hanging from the rafters with her head. She pushed some aside, but the scent of one plant drew her. It had little purple flowers along its stem and had a soft, sweet smell.
r />   “Lavender,” Gerran said, as he watched her examine and sniff at the flower. “Some women like to put it with their clothes.” When she looked at him curiously, he continued. “Take the plant, now that it’s dry and leave a sprig between your clothes. It will put the scent into them.”

  She gave him an appreciative smile and did as he said.

  On the second day, the street urchins followed Kharick and Madger as they stopped at the food stalls in the central courtyard of the city. Kharick thought it was great fun to pretend he didn’t see them peering around corners, then when they got close, to turn with a roar, sending them squealing and laughing away.

  Madger didn’t join in the antics, she’d rarely played with her younger cousins, but it did remind her of how Merion would chase after them. She forced the thought away, not willing to cry in the middle of town.

  When they came back, Gerran continued her instruction on how to light a fire. He watched her struggle with the weaving of the spell, always reminding her not to use too much magic. It was daunting just looking at the strength of her aura. If she became frustrated or angry and fed too much magic into the spell, he wouldn’t be able to contain it if she lost control. The whole of Pero might be destroyed if she truly came undone, but he didn’t tell her that. He was impressed when she could light a candle.

  “I took a month just to get the weaving right for that spell. The idea of weaving your magic to a purpose seems to come naturally to you. Once you’re taught how it’s supposed to be done,” Gerran said. “Your way of letting the power move fluidly is different than any other mage I’ve seen, but it seems to work for you. It’s as if you’re writing with a quill held incorrectly. Your writing is just as fluid and legible, but the way you grasp the instrument is unique.”

  “But not wrong?”

  “Some magic instructors might call it wrong, but I never trained a new mage, or took a more practiced apprentice. If it works for you, and I think it does, continue as you are.

  “I’ve never seen a mage with as much potential as you show in your aura. Not at any of the dukes functions, or the king’s court when I went to the capital. Look at my aura.”

  Madger loosened her control of her magic, letting it reach out, and the shimmer around Gerran bloomed to life again before her. The waver of colors around him became more focused the longer she looked, slowly settling to a soft hue of pale smoke. She hadn’t tried looking at auras closely since she learned how to hold her magic. When she’d first discovered the ability, she had looked at the auras of her clan for days until she started to get a headache. She thought she was getting sick and told her father. After the healer had spoken with her, it was decided she was a mage, and not ill. She’d discovered how to hold in her magic shortly after, realizing she couldn’t grab it and hold it, but had to wrap it, like cupping water in her hands. The auras of her clan had been a range of grays like his, but much dimmer than Gerran’s.

  “Mages and clerics show larger auras than most people. Now, if you reach out with your magic, really use it to explore my aura, you’ll have a better understanding of what I am capable of. But mages can only test the depth of ability with each other. Clerics can see auras, but don’t know the extent of a mage’s abilities, since they have nothing to compare it to. They’re usually more in tune to the leaning of a person’s soul.”

  Madger did as he said; his magic was a shallow pool compared to her own lake. She could delve deeper and started to, but his magic pushed back against her own.

  “Enough.” Gerran let out a relieved breath when she recaptured her magic. “It takes a lot of magic to constantly reach out to see other people’s auras. A cursory glance is common, and often not noticed. But if you push, like you just did, it becomes irritating, insulting, and many mages will simply lash out in return. It’s commonly seen as a threat. I’ll show you, don’t try and fight me.”

  Madger nodded. She felt Gerran’s magic touch her aura and then examine her further. It was like he was invading her personal space, sniffing at her, poking at her to see if she would react. Most people would back away at the first hint of being encroached on. When they were sniffed at, many would shove the person away. If someone poked and prodded, the person might fight back harder. And then Gerran’s magic squeezed all around her, as though he was testing her aura like a fruit. Madger’s eyes went wide at the insulting invasion, and she almost pushed back with her own power, the reaction instinctual, almost happening without her intention.

  Gerran backed his magic away immediately. “Calmly,” he cautioned. Madger took a relaxing breath and he continued, “Don’t ever do that to another mage without their permission. And even with it, they might react as you just did.”

  Madger nodded once. “I understand.”

  The third day after she’d catered to the rash of visitors at Gerran’s home, Kharick led her out beyond the merchants circle, to show her more of the town.

  “The duke do no think the town need a wall,” Kharick said as they walked. “But the darklings been raiding the farms nearby.”

  “Darklings?”

  “The dark elves, black skinned elves. The orcs are green skinned, big brutes, maybe bigger than you, and have tusks that stick from their lower jaws. And the trolls have these long arms and legs, and long hooked nose and several warts, stringy hair pale and gray mottled skin.”

  “Are all darklings bad?”

  “Most are raised into it. I’ve seen a few in honest work, but no many folks will risk hiring one. So far, the little bands of ‘em do no bother with Pero. Too many folks here to fight back. We do no have any troops from the duke, but the magistrate hired some men to take care of local crime. But most folks outside the city have to hire their own help.

  “That be where me and Gerran come in. Though the lad be getting on in age. We travel a bit more in the warmer season, hiring out to the local villages. Gerran be helping a farmer’s crop, or we deal with a group of thieves along a path between villages. If they be too many, we might hire on a group of fighters, some mercenaries, to help with the fight.”

  “If Gerran wants me to stay and help him, I’ll need to learn how to fight,” Madger said. It could be the beginning of learning how to kill the things that had slaughtered her family, if she ever found out whom or what did it.

  “Aye, lass. I can teach ya some of it.” Kharick said and hooked his thumbs on his belt, near the one-handed ax and hammer he often carried. “I used to guard caravan trains near Log Port.” He cleared his throat and rubbed at his scarred, bald head. “Enough of that. Let’s get back now.”

  Madger fell in behind him as they walked back to Gerran’s house. “You think we can go back to the river soon? To get my pack?”

  “Aye, lass, soon. You’re getting stronger and walking further.”

  That evening Gerran progressed Madger’s training with fire. He handed her a twig from the kindling pile. “Light it.”

  Madger stared at the twig, recalling how the last one shattered in her hand when she tried to light it. Now she had a better idea of the weaving for a spell to make fire. She started to build the weaving with enough power to catch the twig alight.

  The end of the twig sparked, then the light died leaving a little tendril of smoke.

  Gerran’s eyebrows rose, she was close, impressively close. His own training hasn’t advanced as quickly, but he also didn’t have the same power reserves as Madger. That she had progressed from learning how to weave magic into spells, to simply thinking of a spell and executing it with a flick of her wrist for direction, startled him.

  “Again.”

  Madger concentrated, and the end of the stick lit with a little burst of flame. She held it up to the old man with a triumphant grin.

  “Huh,” Gerran answered with his own smile. “And that book, the one I gave you, it shows how you can focus a spell with certain runes or a weaving of your hands.”

  “Distracting. If mages can see the magic, why use something else to focus it?”

  �
��I suppose because for most, like myself, using a focus to concentrate the power helps. You just,” he stuttered, trying to put what she was doing to words. “You just hold the magic in the air, like painting without a canvas.”

  Madger shook her head. “It’s easier.”

  “The lass has talent?” Kharick asked from where he sat drinking his ale.

  “Immense talent. But I’m not strong enough, or knowledgeable enough in training to help her for long.”

  Madger looked between the dwarf and old human. “For how long?”

  “A few months, a year at most, at the rate you’re learning.”

  “We take her to a city then?” Kharick asked.

  “We’ll have to, to find an instructor who might be willing to help her. Though, I don’t know of one strong enough.”

  “No!” Madger stood and cracked her head on a beam and winced. “I won’t go. I won’t leave here.”

  Gerran gained a concerned look at her fierceness and shot a worried glance to Kharick.

  “You said I work for you. This is home?”

  “This is your home,” Gerran said, holding up placating hands. “I wasn’t meaning to get rid of you. Just do what’s best to further your magic training. I had no idea how fast you would learn.”

  “I’ll learn here,” Madger said. “Kharick said you need help in the warmer seasons. I will help. You give me too much. I can’t help enough in a few months.”

  Kharick chuckled and took a long swallow of his ale. “She means to make good to ya, lad.”

  “I suppose so,” Gerran laughed in answer.

  Madger sat on the floor and opened the book to a spell she wanted to try. “Now this one.”

  “Levitation.” Gerran rubbed at his wrinkled cheeks. “A more intricate weaving, but we can try. Watch carefully.”

  Chapter 7

  309 Br. winter

  “Each Age has been marked by an event that affects all of the states in the northern continent. Sometimes the whole known world. The Breach, as this Age is named, began when the first portal to the Hells was opened. Namely the portal in Log Port.”