The Jade Mage: The Becoming: Volume 1

by Latoria, William D.

  Tartum took pride in his master’s skill, with his craft and with the girls at his feet, even though he was clearly intoxicated past any point of reason. It was when Isidor started singing a dirty love song to one of his ladies, that all control left Tartum, as wave upon wave of laughter hit him. The lyrics were quite filthy and just as hilarious. Tartum enjoyed seeing this side of his master and long time friend. Hell, Isidor was his only friend, Tartum admitted to himself, as he watched the man add two more mugs to his juggling act. The rest of the town populace had a strong curiosity of magic when Isidor was on stage, but a healthy aversion to it in any other forum. For the most part, Tartum was ignored by the townsfolk when he ventured out. They weren’t rude or unaccomodating, they just didn’t know him, and didn’t seem to want to. Tonight was the first time in a long time he had interacted with any of them, and he promised himself to spend more of his free time here. He found the interaction thrilling, and he also found he enjoyed the women pressed against him, more and more by the moment. In fact, he was finding these women ever more attractive, the more he drank. It was exhilarating!

  The other patrons of the bar started to take up the bawdy song that Isidor was now bellowing at the top of his lungs. It wasn’t long before the whole building was shaking with the words to the song. Men and women alike, were pounding on the bar, keeping up with the beat of the song as it grew louder and louder. Encouraged to greater acts of showmanship by his gracious drunken audience, Isidor made the mugs fly at an even faster rate. The blur reminded Tartum of his sessions of combat training, when his master’s staff whirled with the same blur the mugs were flying around in now.

  One of the girls that surrounded Isidor, was jumping up and down in excitement and drunken lust, at this point, and a rather large silver necklace she was wearing started bouncing around her ample cleavage. The medallion caught the light from the candles in the chandeliers just right and reflected it directly into Isidor’s eyes. The sudden shock of light completely broke Isidor’s concentration and sent the mugs flying, as Isidor lost his balance and fell off the bar landing in a pile of girls and laughter. Mama ran over screaming at Isidor about her broken mugs and threatening his life, if he had hurt any of her girls.

  Tartum had an epiphany, at this moment. To his perception, the whole world stopped moving as he registered what just happened. The light reflected from the locket around the whore’s neck had stunned his Mentor! It shattered his concentration and completely collapsed the man. It was a weakness! Tartum realized that his new enchantment spell could do the same thing! But how!? What could he enchant that his master wouldn’t be suspicious about? Needing to think but not wanting to draw undue attention to himself, Tartum looked around for a location to escape the commotion of the bar. If Isidor noticed he was acting strange or deep in thought, Tartum was worried he’d become suspicious, start asking questions, and he would lose the element of surprise. He quickly noticed an open door to one of the many private rooms. He knew if he went in alone someone, most likely Mama, would notice and start asking questions. If he went in with a girl however, no one would be the wiser. Tartum quickly grabbed the closest girl, thrust a few gold into her hand, slipped into the room, and locked the door. The girl didn’t fully understand why Tartum had grabbed her, but she did understand gold and a locked door, and she busied herself with the task of undressing.

  Tartum barely noticed, he was so wrapped up in his scheming. What metal object could he use for his enchantment? What wouldn’t Isidor notice? An amulet of his own? No, he would notice something like that immediately, and ask questions. He would probably make him take it off during their training, so it wouldn’t interfere or something. He couldn’t lie to his master. Not because he had any moral objection to such behavior, but because he knew his master would probably see right through his bluff, which would only serve to increase his suspicion. No, Tartum needed his master none the wiser to his ploy to beat him during their next sparring session. He needed Isidor to believe, as he always did, that he was going to win their match and carry Tartum off to recover.

  The girl, now fully undressed, was slinking her way into Tartum’s lap and began to kiss him. The distraction was both pleasing and infuriating, and Tartum threw her off of him. He wanted the girl, but he wanted the victory, and his advancement in magic to resume, much more.

  “I’ve changed my mind. Get dressed, and get out!” Tartum barked at the girl, who looked up at him from the floor. Her initial reaction to his rejection appeared to be hurt, but was quickly overcome by the anger only a woman, who sold her body for a living, could know. She left Tartum quickly, gathering up her clothes, and as she went out the door, said something pertaining to the small size of his reproductive organs. Her exact words, Tartum never knew, because the moment he had told her to leave, she ceased to exist to him. There was only the planning of how he would use this new insight to gain the advantage to win.

  The girl, upon leaving, must have dropped one of the gold coins Tartum had given her, because it rolled across the floor and bumped into his foot. Absently, Tartum picked it up and held it, while he thought about what he could possibly enchant that wouldn’t raise Isidor’s suspicion. The gold coin in Tartum’s hand had a burr on it. The burr cut slightly into his hand, catching his attention and causing him to inspect the damaged coin. There was a spiral scratch on its surface, that trailed off into the burr that had cut him. The spiral scratch in the coin reminded Tartum of the gold spiral on his staff...The gold spiral! HIS STAFF! OF COURSE! He could enchant his staff! What better choice was there?! Isidor wouldn’t be suspicious of his staff! Obviously, Tartum would have it during one of their sessions! There’s no way he would know, or be the wiser, until it was too late!

  The elation of the thought died, almost as fast as it came, when Tartum remembered what Isidor had told him when he first received the staff. It was already enchanted with a fortification spell. He had told him the staff couldn’t hold more than one enchantment at a time. And the fortification spell was not only incredibly important for the staff to be useful, but it was a permanent enchantment, and therefore he couldn’t just wait for it to wear off.

  Tartum deflated. Victory had seemed so sure! He had felt like he had already won! He was already imagining himself standing over his defeated master, seeing the pride in Isidor’s face that his pupil had met his challenge, yet again. The praise, the possible celebration, all for nothing because his staff couldn’t be enchanted a second time. It was in the middle of this defeat that another thought occurred to him. What part of the staff held the fortification enchantment? Was it the Jade? Or was it the gold? If it was the jade, then Tartum’s plan to enchant the gold was still viable! If not...well Tartum didn’t want to think about that. He needed to know if the gold was enchanted or not, and the only man that could tell him was buried in a pile of nubile drunk women, the last he saw.

  “Time for some answers.” Tartum thought, as he left the room and returned to the bar.

  ...

  Finding Isidor wasn’t difficult. He had recovered quite quickly, it seemed, because he was back up on the bar dancing around again, juggling ten mugs this time. Although, he had given up on the singing this time around. Tartum found an empty seat by the bar and sat, watching his master, allowing time to sober him, so that he could think clearly. He had to make sure this plan worked, otherwise, there was no telling when, or if, he would ever beat Isidor and get him to start teaching him magic again. After three years of working on his own it would be nice to have someone help him unravel the secrets of his spell book again. Not to mention, he was sick of being Isidor’s punching bag, and it would be nice to get the upper hand for once.

  The working girls started approaching Tartum again, distracting him from his thoughts. His body wanted them around, wanted to reward their advances, with advances of his own. His soul, however, wanted the magic and power that his current plan could bring him. In a battle of desire, his soul won out. After refusing the girls’ taudry suggestions
about what they would like to do to him for the right price, Tartum called Mama over. Handing her ten gold coins, he told her to keep the whores away from him, and bring him some water and bread so he could sober up. Mama looked confused at his request, but for ten gold coins there were not many things Mama wouldn’t have agreed to. She complied with Tartum’s request and brought him the bread and water. She told her girls to leave him alone, and when one exceptionally brave, or exceptionally stupid, girl decided to defy her orders, Mama broke a pitcher over her head. The fight that ensued, provided the enitre bar with entertainment for a full fifteen minutes. The result of said fight was, Mama nursing a bruised cheek and the working girl out on her ass, unemployed.

  So wrapped up in his own thoughts, Tartum barely noticed any of this. He spent the rest of the night, watching Isidor get more and more inhebriated. He watched as his master stumbled, slurred and eventually collapsed on the floor, giggling and moving lamely around, in an attempt to stand up. Seeing that this was as good of a time as any to get some answers out of him, Tartum went to his aid.

  Picking his master’s drunk form up off the ground was far from an easy task, but after a few fumbles that resulted in Isidor hitting the ground a bit hard, Tartum finally stood him up and carried him out of the brothel. The majority of the patrons in the bar walked with Tartum, to see off the life of the party. Isidor yelled his farewells, and his loyal, drunken fans screamed theirs back. Finally, Tartum was alone on the road back home, half carrying, half dragging his master along.

  “Master I have to ask you something” Tartum Said.

  “Yesh my Tartum...*EErp!*...Oh! Almost losht my stomacsh there. Hahaha! What...what...question?” Isidor said, barely able to keep up with the conversation.

  Good, Tartum thought. At least like this, he wont be suspicious, and he shouldn’t be able to keep the truth from me.

  “Master, when you cast the fortification spell on my staff, was it the jade, or the gold, that you enchanted?” Tartum said, barely keeping the urgency from his voice.

  “Whaaa? Your shtaff? I enshanted it...with my magic.” Isidor looked at Tartum then and waved one of his hands in his face. Apparently, he was trying to make fun of him. “Oooooooooooooooooooohhhhhhhh! HAHAHAHAhahaha!” Isidor talked to Tartum like he was an infant, and was very proud of his joke, judging by how hard he was laughing. Unfortunately for him, the movement and the laughing sent a signal to his stomach, that it was time to purge. He leapt off Tartum and fell to his knees.

  “Eeeerp! Uh-oh.” was all he got out, before the contents of a night of drinking, was emptied out all over the road.

  Tartum waited for his master to finish being sick. When he was sure the danger of getting bile on him had passed, he grabbed Isidor by his shirt and shook him.

  “Damnit, Isidor, did you cast the enchantment on the jade or on the gold!? ANSWER ME!” Tartum shook him hard. The result was the moment of clarity, Tartum needed.

  “I casshted it on sha stone part. Not the gold...The gold wouldn’t have held the magishic.” As Isidor finished this sentence, his eyes rolled back into his head, and he passed out.

  Still holding his master by the shirt, Tartum began trembling. His plan would work! He had said it! The jade! The JADE of the staff was enchanted! Not the gold! It would work! It HAD to work! Finally! After years of nothing, he would finally resume his training! After a moment, Tartum regained control of himself and calmed down. Looking up, he saw all around him the lightning bugs he would need, for his spell and knew that he must do it tonight. Isidor would be awake tomorrow, and if he caught him enchanting his staff, he would start asking questions that would lead to Tartum revealing his plans, or Isidor stopping him completely. Isidor couldn’t find out about this, until the moment it was too late! Picking his master up and slinging him over his shoulder, Tartum brought him back home and put him to bed.

  Not wasting another second, Tartum gathered up every last bit of suphur and pinecone in the wagon’s storage area, then, he grabbed up his skin of chicken blood. There was a decent amount left inside. It would have to be enough. There was no waiting for the butcher to open his stall. Tartum prayed it was enough!

  Gathering his staff, Tartum ran outside to the site behind the wagon, where his first enchantment had been successful. Thrusting his staff’s blunted point, deep into the ground, where the coin had been last night, he carefully drew the glyphs with the chicken blood, just had he’d done before. Next, he placed the pinecones and sulphur in there respective places and encircled them as well. Then, dropping everything else, Tartum ran out into the woods and began the task of gathering up the bugs. After about twenty minutes, Tartum had gathered around eighty of the bugs and assumed that would be enough. The jar he had to contain them was full to bursting.

  Placing the bugs north of the staff and drawing the glyphs around them, Tartum inspected his work; everything looked exactly like it did the night prior. The components were ready, and as Tartum was finishing drawing the glyphs that connected the three circles to the one in the middle, a strange calm overtook him. He knew this would work, after all his planning, his years of study and failure. All of it was for moments like this, the feeling of triumph just before the moment of success. Tartum thought of all the people of his town, of all of them running around like idiots trying to mate with each other, trying to make children and crops and obtain some simple life goal, as pitifully empty as their parents’ lives before them. He thought of how few of them would ever feel the exhilaration and the thrill he was feeling now, and he pitied them.

  “The poor fools.”, he thought, “How could anyone live a full life, without the joys of magic?” Sighing at the plight of his fellow man, Tartum shut the thought from his mind and refocused on his work. He was done within an hour, and he positioned himself to the south of his staff, standing outside the circle just as he did the night before.

  Taking one last calming breath, Tartum opened himself to the magic. It flowed into him in the same exciting way, it had always done. With a word Tartum set the pile of pinecones on fire. The blaze was a bright green hue, just as he knew it would be. Now, Tartum opened himself completely to the source. The magic went from a flow, to a surge; pain and ecstasy filled his senses, in equal measure, and the fight for keeping his focus was on. It was still incredibly hard for Tartum to remain intent on his task, when such raw emotions were being forced on him by the powerful magic, coursing through him. After taking as much of the magic as he could bear, Tartum focused his will, and the magic flowed out of him saturating all four circles in front of him. The words, written in blood, glowed brightly with a sickening red light. Tartum assumed this was supposed to happen and paid it little heed. He spoke the words to the spell, and the blood circles collapsed and caused the components inside them to turn into smoke and light, just like the first time. It was when Tartum made the gestures to move the infused light of the lightning bugs over to his staff, that he felt something strange happen, something...wrong. He wasn’t sure if he had mispoken a word or had fumbled over a gesture. Surely he had sobered up from his drinking earlier in the night...hadn’t he? He didn’t know for sure, and trying to figure it out was causing him to lose his focus. All Tartum knew for sure was, the magic was trying to leave him, and the spell was falling apart. Frantically, Tartum pushed down his panic and concentrated all his will on salvaging his spell! Looking at his staff, he saw it shuddering as if at any moment it would explode, and the panic came back with a vengance!

  “My staff is going to shatter!” Tartum thought. The thought was fleeting, barely taking a second to cross his mind, but the impact was profound. The panic was overwhelming him now, and his mind told him to stop. He couldn’t lose his staff, it was his most prized possession! Nothing in the world meant more to him, except for his spell book. Why was this happening? What had gone wrong? It wasn’t fair! No one had told him! Why did Isidor have to keep all the information from him and allow him to fail like this!?! Tartum’s mind reeled. His focus was almost completely
broken, and the magic was leaving him, threatening to take his staff with it in the process.

  “I’m so close! So close! I can’t fail now!” He thought. The magic wasn’t working, the enchantment failing, his staff breaking. Something sharp and painful lanced through Tartum’s mind. “NO! NO, NO, NO, NO, NO, NO, NO!” he told himself, angrily, ”I WILL NOT ALLOW IT! I’VE COME TOO FAR! DONE TOO MUCH! THE MAGIC WILL NOT FAIL ME!” he told himself. Tartum’s panic and fear were driven from him, as a white hot rage began to take over.

  “NO!” Tartum told the magic. “NOT THIS TIME! YOU WILL WORK, AND I WILL HAVE MY REWARD! YOU OWE ME THAT AND MORE!” he screamed, his fury making him sound like a hysterical nut rather than a powerful caster. His vision went red, and he focused the full strength of his will. All caution was thrown to the wind, and Tartum opened himself completely to the magic. The power poured back into him. For a moment, Tartum felt as though he was hovering over the ground, and it felt wonderful. He forced the magic to funnel into the glyphs of blood in his enchantment, and restabilized the failing spell, with an overabundance of power and anger.

  Feeling the magic flowing through him and into the enchantment, Tartum remade the gesture for the wisp of light from the lightning bugs and screamed at it, “LIGHT!” As he screamed the word, a surge of magic flowed into the infused light, as it was absorbed into the gold, wrapped around his staff. The success did nothing to calm Tartum’s temper. “How dare the magic try to fail me!” Tartum thought. The idea that the magic had almost abandonded him, just because of a small mispronunciation or a slight miscalculation of a gesture, redoubled his fury.