Death Never Dies

by Milton Garby

  With what she guessed was ten minutes to spare, she found the place where mages and warlocks alike were gathering to have their magical signatures taken. Since everyone's signature was slightly different, and therefore their magical talents slightly different, it would go a long way to figuring out how the different schools of magic arose.

  Sara also suspected that it would be used to track down magical criminals should they ever decide to turn down that road, which was unfortunate for her. She hadn't figured out total, permanent mind control yet but when she did...

  A few dozen instructors stood around the perimeter of the circular room, watching carefully for any unexpected accidents. Before Sara stretched a long line of people, which ended next to a contraption just out of sight. She sighed, but resigned herself to a fate of waiting and watching people leaving with their results in hand.

  Eventually, the line moved forward and Sara could see the device that would take her signature. It was an ornate staff, about as long as she was tall, on a table. The shaft was green as grass, and it ended with scintillating, clear crystals formed like a pine cone. A mage in his fifties stood on the pine cone side, a pad of paper in onehand and a transparent crystal in the other.

  A woman her age wrapped her arms around the staff and exchanged some words she couldn't hear with the man. Then arcane magic flowed along the staff, filling up the crystals - including the one the man held - with silvery blue energy. After she stopped, the man handed her a piece of paper. She looked at it and left, and meanwhile the man used a series of arcane incantations to clean out the crystals before calling the next person's name.

  Finally, it was her turn. "Sara Smithers," the man bellowed, despite there being no formal order of people being called. She stepped forward and clasped her hands along the staff. "Alright, remember. Channel all the magic you can up the vertical portion of the staff for precisely ten seconds. Note this does not mean channel magic for ten seconds. If it takes you five seconds to reach full power, then you will channel for a total of fifteen seconds. We are ready to begin whenever you are."

  Sara nodded, and reached deep into herself. Her hands were engulfed in cloying violet darkness immediately. She gritted her teeth and dug in her feet as she focused harder. The magic flowed along the staff, running up its length like a river as the crystals filled with magic. It looked like an inky purple liquid, nearly black, was pouring into them. As she increased her magic's output the brilliant purple color of her magic shifted, until it was the same vivid emerald as the mist that flowed off corpses when she revived them.

  Her arms shook, and she could feel her magic pulsing through her, a wild and hungry river, scalding and rough as it passed over her limbs. The act of channeling it along a staff kept her from harming herself, but even so the act of using so much magic felt like a cheese grater was grinding her bones. The mage's own crystal was filled with inky darkness, with flashes of green lightning in its depths. Sara imagined he looked surprised, but her entire focus was on sustaining the magic flow and on counting the seconds.

  Ten, she thought at last. Her magic cut off and she stumbled back from the staff, rubbing her arms and legs as they complained. "Is that good?" she asked.

  The man nodded, scribbling on his pad with an inked quill. "Hmm, interesting," he muttered. "Um, yes, it is. Very satisfactory." He tore out the paper and handed it to her. "Here you go miss, that's everything."

  She took it and nodded, backing up. As Sara turned around to leave, she heard the mage trying to clean out her magic from the entrapment crystals. "Hmm," he grunted. "Doesn't want to dissipate. Maybe more power."

  Rolling her eyes, she made her way back out of the heavily warded catacombs. It only took her a few minutes to climb up and out, and the moment she did her stomach growled at her.

  She sighed, and went to go find a quick restaurant to eat at. As she walked she held up the paper and began to decipher the man's horrible handwriting. "Min... Man... Mana pool," she read aloud. She squinted at the description of her mana pool, then threw her head back and laughed once she found it. "HA! Oh wow, that's something! So what, I have basically infinite mana?" Okay, not infinite, but still! It wasn't a record but it was really up there. She read a lower line, the one describing how much of her mana she could put into each spell. Hmm, she thought. Nice. It explained much of her success in duels.

  Then Sara read the last line, her magical resistance, and frowned. The higher someone's magical resistance, the more magic they could channel without harming themselves. Almost everyone had more power than resistance, which was part of the reason why staves were used. Sara's magical resistance though was... quite below her power. She'd probably need to go buy a staff of her own if she ever planned to do serious spell casting.

  Which was annoying, because custom staves weren't cheap.

  After memorizing her paper and ripping it apart with her magic, Sara went out and got a late lunch at a pastry shop, consisting of warm biscuits and a few sugar cookies. After she was done with that she found a privy, then walked to the northern part of the Mage Quarter. The building in question had a sign hanging out front, with the image of two staves crossed in combat emblazoned on both sides. Right above it was a clock, showing that it was closing in on six in the afternoon.

  She stepped inside the building and shivered as a burst of cool air washed over her. She shook her head and headed in deeper. Before too long she came across a woman sitting behind a small podium with a door behind her. She looked at Sara as she approached. "Hello, welcome to - oh, hello Sara. Welcome back."

  Sara kept walking to the door, and grunted. "Hey." She pushed her way in and entered the Academy's official magical dueling arena.

  'Arena' was a generous term. It was a chamber about twice the size of the one she'd had her exam in, but it wasn't slanted so much as bowl-shaped and had seats all along the outside. Currently the building was far from full capacity, with only about two dozen people milling about. In the middle was a circular ring about twenty yards across with Alliance flags on the perimeter and a marble floor. Currently nobody was inside dueling, instead walking about outside. Several desktops on the outskirts offered refreshments for a surprisingly low price. On one of the walls was the list of rules for the magic duels.

  On the far side was the current bracket. Sara was - to her misery - in the loser's bracket after getting knocked down by a counterspell in her first match. She approached the chart and looked for her name, inside a purple box. She was going up against... the blue box of the mage Tharama Thelon. Probably a high elf, she thought, before grunting and found a seat.

  A clock mounted on the walls ticked to six in the afternoon and, with a flash of arcane light, a mage in his forties teleported in with a flash of light. He cleared his throat, took a deep breath, and bellowed, "Greetings, everyone! I welcome you to the second day of the fiftieth Stormwind Academy of Arcane Arts and Sciences Magical Dueling Group!" Some cheering resounded. Sara just crossed her arms and waited impatiently.

  "I'm sure you are all excited for today's second round of events, but first I need to make an announcement. Due to some unforeseen medical consequences, the loser's bracket rounds will be going first today and the winner's bracket second." There were groans. "I know, I know, I'm sorry. Anyway, that concludes today's brief announcements. First match will be..." He looked down at a paper in his hands. "Between Tartha Ebonstrand and Fizzy Cogstrider! Please enter the ring."

  Sara watched with mild interest as a high elf with a transparent imp by her side, and a little gnome with pink pigtails, entered opposite areas of the ring. The coordinator whose name she couldn't be bothered to learn made a ten second long arcane gesture and previously invisible runes lit up in the dueling arena. A shimmering, transparent arcane dome appeared over the two.

  "Ready," he bellowed in his deep, echoing voice. "And you may begin!"

  Sara watched in amusement as the two weaker casters squared off. They blasted against each other with powerful fire spells. Tartha's smok
ed densely, the acrid smog seeping out of the dome and crawling across the ground while Fizzy's burned with blinding intensity. Sara and the other spectators leaned forward, watching as the warlock and the mage blasted each other with various spells.

  It was an intriguing exchange of snaking fire, pyroblasts, curses, and polymorphs. Eventually though, the gnome and her mana shield came out on top of the scorched and woozy high elf.

  "Halt!" the man said, and they did. The runes faded. "The winner of the duel is Fizzy Cogstrider, who will advance to the next level of the loser's bracket! Duelists, you may leave the arena." The gnome walked over to the elf and offered a hand to help her stand up. It was awkward watching someone helped up by a woman literally half their size, but help her up she did.

  "Our next contestants!" Oh, she thought. I'm up, aren't I? She sat up in her seat. "Tharama Thelon and last year's runner-up, Sara Smithers!" She cracked her neck and glided down towards the arena. She went around to one side and entered. Her opponent did the same from the other end.

  Sara sized him up. Tharama Thelon was a mage as evidenced by his robes. He had a messy mop of red hair, and a short stubble of a beard. He was even thinner than her and a few shades paler, not surprising for a high elf. A simple wooden staff was clenched tightly in his right hand, which shook feverishly. His owlish face looked at her warily, and his dark eyes flickered nervously. It was good that he feared her. He'd fear her even more in a few moments.

  The arcane runes around her hissed and flickered to life, forming a protective dome around herself and Thelon. She grinned at him wickedly, and he gulped silently. "Ready, and you may begin!"

  Tharama's hands flashed with arcane power and a shimmering mana shield sprung up around him. At the same time Sara curled over, then suddenly stood ramrod straight with purple magic glowing around her hands. Her own magic swirled within and a moment later burst forth in the form of a colossal, blinding shadow nova. The shield around the arena flickered and hissed in protest, and he was sent flying backwards with his barrier shattered.

  Nothing else was expected, she thought. Sara kept her magic aglow and began calculating. Six years of magical training proved themselves as she once again formed a translucent green shadowy barrier around herself. Thelon recovered and sent a small sliver of ice at her, but it shattered uselessly against her barrier. Chuckling in her mind, she held up her hands and began to cast a new spell.

  She pictured the matrix in her mind, and poured her abundant power into it. The spell took form, and from her glowing violet hands shot a gaunt, black skull with maddened eyes at Tharama, trailing heavy smog where it traveled. He sidestepped hastily and it splashed on the barrier like liquid.

  The elf shot her with another spell, this time in the form of an icicle twice her size. It flew at her and broke into shards against her defenses, bringing a smile to her face. In that time she prepared two more shadow bolts and flung them at him. He sidestepped the first, and summoned a mana shield for the second one - which immediately collapsed upon impact.

  She grinned. What was he going to do? There was nothing he could do to hurt her. All she had to do was keep firing shadow bolts at him, and eventually one would connect. All she needed was for one to connect.

  Another ice lance. A frostbolt. A fireball. A salvo of arcane missiles. A blast of flame. A whirlwind of cold. At one point he warded himself with frosty armor, for all the good it would do.

  Shadow bolt. Shadow bolt. Shadow bolt. Shadow bolt. As time went on Sara began to cast them faster and faster, until he couldn't stop to cast for a moment. He finally gave up and tried running at her, no doubt to try and freeze her in place...

  ... so she released another shadow nova right at him.

  Tharama went flying back, and while he was in midair Sara nailed him with a single shadowy skull. He landed in a groaning heap with dark mist swirling about him, and the wards flickered out.

  "That's quite enough!" the man shouted. "The winner of the duel is Sara Smithers, who will advance to the next level of the loser's bracket! Duelists, you may leave the arena." She smirked, but convention said she had to help him so she walked over to Thelon. Dismissing her shadowy barrier, she swiped her hand through the air several times to blow away the clinging darkness and helped the swaying mage to his feet.

  "Wow," he breathed, not meeting her eyes. "G-Good fight."

  Sara didn't say anything, instead grunting and turning away to return to her seat.

  "Our next contestants!" the mage shouted. "Elon Tussel and..." Sara tuned out, glancing over to where Tharama sat. He'd been disappointing. All he'd have to do was counterspell her, then dispel her shield and polymorph her. But what did she expect? He was in the loser's bracket. Had been, at any rate.

  She leaned back and watched as two warlocks fought each other, drumming her fingers on her legs. One was using corrosive shadow spells that Sara knew she really needed to practice more often, while the other hid behind a colossal, seething voidwalker while wielding fel and flame. The duel went long and hard, with both warlocks draining life either from their opponent or from the voidwalker.

  There were two more duels after that in the loser's bracket which Sara watched with varying interest. By the time the winner's bracket came around, though, she narrowed her eyes at the third duelist. Elizabeth Taryn. She was last year's champion, the one who'd dispelled her shield and ripped her magic away, turned her into a damnable farm animal to win. She bit her lip and fought down the urge to paralyze her from afar since the wards in the room would single her out if she tried.

  Later. Sara could grind her into the dirt later, after she worked her way back up from the loser's bracket. It was time to study, both Elizabeth's style and... and learning how to actually fight herself couldn't hurt.

  Night fell, and the last of the duels for the day ended. Sara still had a few final classes the next day before she would officially be a Magister - including a practical exam - so she bought some water from the stands and headed home for an early nap.

  She left the dueling arena and walked through the darkened Mage Quarter, marveling at the dark twinkling stars and the light of the sister moons. She found her apartment and trudged up the stairs to her room. Maria was at a desk, studying by candle light, and the warlock acolyte looked her way as she entered.

  "Hey, you're back early."

  "I guess," she grunted. Sara climbed the bunk bed and pulled her covers up. "Night," she said.

  "Well, night I guess."

  Sara

  Magister Sara is all well and good, she thought as she paced in her private room, given to her after her graduation as a Magister - two years ahead of schedule to boot. But Archmage Sara would sound better. As an Archmage there would be practically nothing restricted to her, she could view records, find people she could make use of. She could go see her magical signature, see why her shadow magic behaved so differently from everyone else's.

  The authority, the pay, the knowledge, the power were all so enticing. Sara stopped her pacing and chuckled. The power. The options she'd have with the power, the countless paths that'd be open to her. She wanted it. Oh she wanted it. So much it hurt.

  The problem was that one didn't simply become an Archmage. To become a Magister Sara had needed to learn a great amount of magic, but if she wanted to be an Archmage she'd need to contribute her own knowledge, learn something nobody else knew and then share it. And that was just the start, because following that was another ten years of research and experimentation.

  What was she going to do? What could she find? There was so much already known within the magical fields that she'd be hard pressed to find anything at all that was undiscovered.

  She growled. She sat down at her desk and tapped on the hard wood. She took out some sheets of paper and scribbled until she wore the pencil down into a nub.

  Maybe she needed to go for a walk. Get some fresh air. She'd just gotten back from her job but she wanted some air.

  Sara went to her wardrobe and switched her
robes for a shirt and pants, then pocketed her key and some gold and silver before walking out of her room and locking the door behind herself. Sara lived in a sort of suite, with three others and a commons room, each with their own personal rooms. It was a major step up from having to share her space with Maria, but not as preferable as having an entire house all to herself; another reason to go for Archmage.

  Walking outside the front door, she was smacked in the face by what was supposed to be autumn. Stormwind, being practically right on the equator, knew nothing but perpetual summer. Greenvale hadn't been much cooler, but the added effect of being next to the ocean meant Stormwind's weather was constantly hot, humid, and stormy. Right away Sara felt herself wilting under the sticky heat, but she wiped her eyes and continued walking around.

  There were few people around, and even fewer paying attention to her. She made a loop around the Wizard's Sanctum, then swung by the Blue Recluse, then headed to the Canals. Once there, she continued walking until she was in the Park.

  The Park was in full bloom, covered in flowers of all scents and colors. A few others were on a walk, and in the Park a higher amount of them were night elves. There had been a few night elves living in Greenvale but Sara hadn't seen them often, and even after over half a decade living in Stormwind she was still mesmerized by how different they were with their long ears, markings, and skin. And the glowing eyes. Especially the glowing eyes.

  Besides that, the Park was close enough to the sea for the scent of salt water to drift along the air. Sara breathed deeply through her nose, imagining the ocean and its churning depths, its wild storms, the devouring Maelstrom, and smiled.

  In addition to the flowers and grass, of course, were the animals. Squirrels and birds mostly, chirping and chittering that, when she passed them, went as silent as the grave. Sara allowed her mind to wander as she walked slow circles around the Park, sometimes moving out of someone's path.