by E B Rose
The page warmed under his hands. Without opening his eyes, Tesla continued trying to salvage his nightmare.
“His skin... it was different.” He forced himself to define what he meant by different. It was hard to find the right word, but when he did, he smiled victoriously: “Reflected. His skin reflected the light. Like metal, but not quite.”
Tesla waited for the page to heat, but it remained cool. The floor rumbled again with another slow swing from side to side, rising and falling. Disappointment, mixed with the violent movement, brought bile to the back of Tesla’s throat.
“The screams,” Tesla continued desperately, already knowing the page would not record the sounds. “Scream,” he corrected himself. “More like a roar. A wild animal, or a beast. Or, a demon.”
The page boiled under his fingers, so quick and hot it almost burnt his skin. Tesla gritted his teeth, ignoring the pain. He was pleasantly surprised, yet glad that the page was recording his experience. He spoke quickly.
“Hate. Rage. Face of a demon. Thousands dying.” The page scalded his hands. Tesla gasped in pain. “Thousands more. Dark. Blood. A flooded cave. Smell of burning flesh. Sand falling. He’s rising!”
He groaned and pulled his hands back. He examined them, expecting to see his palms crisp and seared red. He was disappointed and relieved at the same time to discover his hands were still a healthy colour of pink, his fingers long, and his nails stained with ink. Tesla leaned over the page. He felt light-headed, and the reason was not just the movement of the floor.
The page was dark; painted from side to side, in the darkest shade of ink. He squinted, scanning for any other detail. There was no such detail. Just pure darkness.
He leaned back, shuddered. He couldn’t pry his eyes from the ominous blackness on the page. He held out his finger and whispered; “Kavrul.” The parchment lit up in flames, their brightness hurting Tesla’s eyes. The page turned into ash within seconds. The fire didn’t touch the table; only consumed the parchment and snuffed out.
Tesla sighed. He swatted the ash off the table with the back of his hand. There was a reason premonition was not studied at Eternal Pillar. It was an uncontrolled magic; its source, its limits, and its reliability unknown.
There was a debate on whether or not premonitions were sourced from Farhome or Darkhome. It certainly wasn’t sourced from Earthome, therefore Earthmagic was not enough to translate it. The fact that it was almost always triggered by sleep suggested it was Farmagic. However, premonitions often activated red dragonscales nearby, which implied demons and Darkmagic was involved. Either way, the Eternal Council found it too dangerous to investigate, with the risks outweighing the potential benefits.
Tesla was amongst the mages who believed Eternal Pillar was overly cautious and not curious enough. Research was necessary to advance their art and bring progress to civilization. However, Eternal Pillar enforced strict restrictions on research topics and the methods used. The council closely followed and audited every new experiment that involved the use of Farmagic. Studying or using Darkmagic was flat out forbidden.
Tesla didn’t blame the council though; the events that happened a century ago was a harsh lesson. The consequences of the Black Stain incident almost brought Eternal Pillar to extinction. Kiejain’s Army nearly started a hunt for all mages. Recovery of the Eternal Pillar required sacrifices, and absolute supervision of its members.
The rhythm of the room’s movement had slowed down. Tesla stared at the wall in front of him, narrowing his eyes, as if it would help him think better.
Sands falling in a black hole in the ground...
Was that similar to how Black Stain had opened? Was he having a premonition about a second Black Stain? If so, shouldn’t he be allowed to draw from whatever source he needed to investigate this further?
He rubbed his face, massaging his forehead. A hateful roar, and a creature with a skin that reflected the light, like metal. He wished he could remember more. Could that be an armour? Maybe. Maybe not.
Tesla stood up, leaning against the table to steady himself. He walked over to the oily black curtains that blocked every drop of sunlight from outside. Covering his eyes with one hand, he pulled the curtains back.
The daylight stabbed his head and elicited a pained gasp from his throat. He clenched his jaw, biting on the throbbing pain behind his eyes. The sunlight disturbed his skin where it touched; his senses told his mind he was burning, though he knew that wasn’t true.
With an angry growl, he lowered his hand and forced his eyes open. The brightness of the blue waters attacked him. The smell of salt reached his nose despite the glass window between them. It burnt his nostrils as if someone jammed a pound of raw salt in them. He glimpsed at the outline of the city in the distance. He closed the curtain and flopped on the bed, heaving and covering his face.
He gave a moment for his senses to calm down. The flashes of bright blue, the sharp smell of salt, and the warmth of the sunlight were all jumbled in his head. The ship creaked and swung from side the side, making him feel sicker.
He doubled over and hurled his dinner on the floor.
Tesla gasped loudly, his head between his knees. Sweat trickled down his face, hung at the tip of his nose, before it dropped on the pile of vomit at his feet. He could taste the traces of the bile inside his nose and at the back of his throat. The smell and the taste threatened to make him throw up again. He straightened up and staggered to the wash basin in the corner. Filling it with cold water, he rinsed his mouth and nose.
He could still taste the faint bitterness of it. The sharp odour wafting from the puddle on the floor made his eyes water. He pointed at the mess and cast a cleaning spell. Then he cast another spell to push the odour into one corner of the room and keep it isolated there. He knew spells that could fill the air with pleasant smells, but they would be as disturbing for him as the smell of vomit. He took a deep breath and enjoyed the flat, odourless air.
Tesla would have died if he wasn’t a mage. His own senses would be his killer. Ever since he was a toddler, Tesla’s senses always tortured him. His sight was a blurry jumble of light and colours, hurting his eyes and making him howl with headache. Loud noises struck his ears like hammers. Sunlight, a cool breeze, or the fabric of his clothes or bedsheets irritated his skin to the extent where he would believe he was burning, scarred or bleeding. He was skin and bones, only able to tolerate the texture and the taste of a handful of foods.
Smells were the worst. Pleasant smells were as painful as foul smells. They struck him like a punch to the face, brought him to his knees. He would bang his head against the hard floor to make everything stop. He was unable to function; he hadn’t even learnt how to speak.
His childhood house was a dark shack, windows tightly barred, fireplace almost never burning. His parents would have to tie him to the bed to prevent him from hurting himself.
Folk in the village claimed he was cursed, or this was the demons’ doing. A parade of healers had tried to help him, though their sharp-smelling herbs and strong-tasting potions had almost caused more harm than good.
Finally, a travelling mage had heard about the boy who had been touched by demons and came to investigate. After examining him for several minutes and asking his parents odd questions, the mage had cast a spell, and Tesla’s world had stilled. He’d taken a shuddering breath, and fell into his most peaceful, refreshing sleep.
The spell was only temporary. The mage had explained to his parents that he would have to take the boy with him to raise him as a mage, and his parents had agreed. Tesla never blamed them for letting him go. It was the first time he’d stepped out of the shack and not been burnt by the touch of sunlight. His mother had burst into tears and the last shred of her hesitation had left after seeing her boy standing under the sun, not hurting anymore.
Tesla snapped himself out of his memories. He had preparations to make before the ship docked. He sat back at the table and spread a thin, leather sheet made of snakeskin on the
surface. He placed his palm in the middle section of the snakeskin and cast a marking spell. Circular drawings appeared on the centre of the sheet, drawn by night blue ink; one large circle, divided by smaller circles in the middle. Runes with sharp edges filled the circles. Tesla removed his hand and studied the drawing, making sure it was accurate.
Next, Tesla took out his ingredient pouch. He put a handful of fishbones in the middle of the drawings, added seaweed, sea salt, Qilin powder, and Phantom Root.
He held his breath, trying not to take in the potent smell of the ingredients. He turned his head and breathed over his shoulder when he needed to. Over the years, he had gotten better at managing one sense at a time.
He took his knife out, pricked the tip of his thumb, and let two drops of blood mix with the ingredients. Lastly, he closed his eyes to concentrate and recited the two page-long spell from his memory and without hesitation.
Tesla rolled the snakeskin into a neat pouch, the size of his fist. He hid it inside the left sleeve of his robe. He packed his belongings into two neat bags and left them by the door to be carried by the ship’s workers. When he was ready to leave his room, he placed his hand on his forehead and recited the sensory integration spell.
He didn’t see the effects of the spell until he reached the deck; the corridor outside his room was only slightly brighter and it wouldn’t disturb his senses even without the spell. The faintest smell of sweat hung in the air, left by a sailor who walked past the corridor maybe an hour ago. Tesla walked through it, climbed up the ladder at the end of the corridor and pushed the hatch open to the lower deck.
It was close to midday; the sky was cloudless and bright. The sails were down and the ship was approaching the docks with the guidance of the oars. The winter breeze threatened to steal Tesla’s brown robe off his back. He felt slightly chilly, but other than that, his senses were calm and at peace.
The sensory integration spell stilled the world within a ten-feet radius of Tesla. He was still fully aware of his environment; the wind tickled his neck, carried salt water on his cheek, but his skin didn’t feel tortured. The light and the colours were slightly faded. The rumble of the ship, the crashing waves, yelling sailors, screeching seagulls were all muffled. Tesla had the luxury of focusing on one input at a time; a luxury ordinary people did not appreciate enough.
“We’re almost there, Adept Teslaturahel,” the ship’s first mate announced quite unnecessarily. Tesla could clearly see the docks just outside the city of Brinescar. Castle Brinescar towered over the city, making the houses look like tiny huts in comparison. This time, blue and grey banners were fluttering on the walls and steeples.
“Thank you...” Tesla mumbled. He wasn’t good with names, so he left his sentence hang there. He was good with faces though; specifically, the details of faces. He would always recognize this man from his fat lower lip and uneven eyebrows, even if he didn’t remember his name.
Faces... Tesla scowled, thinking about the face of the man from his nightmare. His skin was wrinkled and leathery, his eyes didn’t have any whites in them; they were pure black. Tesla shook his head. They were approaching Brinescar now and he had an arrangement to make before they docked.
“I’d like to get a better look,” he said politely before he walked over to the bow of the ship. He put his left hand on the rails, facing the untidy collection of warehouses and shabby buildings that made up the docks district. He spied the sailors with the corner of his eye. None appeared to be looking in his direction.
Tesla took the pouch he prepared from his left sleeve and dropped it in the sea. The splash of the tiny pouch went unnoticed amongst all the other noises. He didn’t look, not wanting to attract any attention to the snakeskin pouch swallowed by the frothy waves.
He felt safer already, but the sense of security immediately brought dread. He frowned at the approaching city, and couldn’t help but regard it as enemy territory. His instincts were alarmed enough to convince him he should have a contingency plan in place; hence, the snakeskin pouch. He was hoping it would turn out to be an unnecessary precaution - and a waste of ingredients - when he spotted his greeting committee at the pier.
As the ship neared, Tesla counted four men in their fluttering white robes. While he waited for the dock workers to tie the ship and secure the plank, Tesla ran all the possible confrontations in his head. The least hostile scenario still involved the exchange of icy glares and poisoned comments. He sighed.
“Adept Teslaturahel Asilamas,” the oldest of the Chinderian mages greeted him as soon as Tesla’s foot touched the ground. “You had a pleasant journey, I hope.”
Tesla recognized the man’s plum-shaped nose and hollow cheeks. After spending four months collaborating with the old mage on his last visit to Chinderia, he succeeded to remember his name too.
“Thank you, Adept Kato. It was as pleasant as I could hope for.” He cleared his throat. “It is nice to see so many of my colleagues from Eternal Pillar taking the time to greet me.” He regarded the three other white-robed men, and the fourth one, who was plainly dressed and showed a slave tattoo on his neck.
Kato forced a smile. “We are here to represent the Casters Board of Chinderia.”
“Oh?” Tesla tilted his head. “I’m afraid the purpose of my visit is between Eternal Pillar and the new king of Chinderia. I do not recall asking for the assistance from the local... club.”
“Casters Board is a Chinderian government authority,” snapped one of the other mages. Young, arrogant, unaware of the small patch of facial hair just below his ear he’d missed to shave this morning. “It’s not a local club.”
Kato shut him up with a sharp look.
“I am glad to hear that,” Tesla pressed, his voice taking an authoritative tone. “Because as you know, mages are not allowed to form their own societies in anywhere of the world. Eternal Pillar is the only authority regulating the activities of all mages. Practicing outside their guidelines is a crime punishable by death. The Pillar will not recognize your board as an independent entity.”
“We are not asking for recognition, Adept Teslaturahel, we never did,” Kato said calmly. “Every mage practicing in Chinderia is registered with the Eternal Pillar and follows regulations. I believe we have already established the status of the Casters Board on your last visit.”
“I agree we did,” Tesla replied, mimicking Kato’s peaceful tone. “Which is why I am confused for being greeted by a group of white-dressed men and not by my fellow colleagues from Eternal Pillar.”
The young mage with poor grooming skills gritted his teeth. “I didn’t realize Eternal Pillar had a dress code,” he mumbled under his breath.
“Adept Teslaturahel,” Kato stepped forward before Tesla could snap a snarky response to the young mage. “We are only here to present you our full co-operation and assistance in your investigation.”
“I appreciate the offer,” Tesla said, raising his chin high. “But I prefer conducting my investigation on my own.”
“The last time you were here, researching Chinderian traditions and methods of raising slaves, your report almost cost all of us our jobs,” Kato said coldly. “You have no idea how much harm your study almost did to this country’s economy...”
“Which is why Eternal Pillar had reconsidered their decision after endless negotiations with late King Leonis Zarall.” Tesla asserted control over his tone to hide his frustration with the Eternal Council’s decision.
“Yet, instigated even more strict supervision over the practicing mages in Chinderia. We simply want to make sure this investigation does not steer from its original purpose.” He tilted his head and changed the subject swiftly. “You will want to stay at the same place, I presume?”
Tesla nodded, reluctant but relieved to drop the argument. For now.
Kato ordered his slave to take Tesla’s belongings to the Timid Hound Inn. He extended an arm towards the city, a gesture of invitation, and led Tesla to the streets of Brinescar.
“Y
ou should know, I did not initiate this investigation,” Tesla explained as they trudged through the muddy streets of the docks district. He walked next to Kato and tried not to be uncomfortable for turning his back on the other three mages. “Your own king brought this investigation onto yourselves by accusing a registered mage for using Darkhome magic.”
“I know,” Kato grunted flatly.
“Eternal Pillar takes a claim like that very seriously; so does Kiejain’s Army.” Kato winced, but didn’t seem surprised. Tesla pushed on. “I believe they are sending a party as well.”
Kato sighed. “I assure you, Adept Teslaturahel, Belandir Kalderan had no association with the Casters Board of Chinderia. I sincerely believe King Kastian’s accusations were merely an awful strategy to manipulate the emotional and political opinions of Chinderian houses.”
“It doesn’t sound like a smart strategy. One would question the expertise of King Kastian’s advisors.”
Kato bit his tongue and averted his eyes. For a moment, he seemed old and tired. “I’m afraid King Kastian does not accept advice from the Casters Board.”
Tesla stopped abruptly. The mages behind him almost collided with each other. Kato faced his way, though he didn’t look at him directly. “I thought King Leonis always had a mage in his council.”
“He did. King Kastian did not accept any audience with the Casters Board since he started his reign.”
Tesla made a thoughtful sound from the back of his throat. “That sounds... concerning.”
“It is.”
Glancing around, Tesla studied the street. “I do not recall Timid Hound being in this part of the city.” He managed to keep the tension off his voice, though he could feel sweat trickling down his back. Surely, they wouldn’t dare...
“No, it is not.” Kato took a deep breath and finally looked at him. “There is a birth we’ve been delaying the last couple of days, waiting for your arrival.”