Elizabeth simply sat in her chair smiling at him. When it became apparent he wasn’t going to say anything else, she spoke up, “Sounds like you did great, Sweetie! I guess that means your over exam is all that’s left for you to become a full-fledged member.” Elizabeth said. Tartum thought she seemed preoccupied by something.
“Yes, Rashlarr told me about it as we were leaving the training room. Something about Savall testing me and then sending me on a mock mission. If I survive I’m in, if not I’m dead; sounds about par for the course around here. Tell me something, not a lot of recruits make it, do they?” he asked.
Elizabeth paused and then nodded, “No, most don’t make it past combat training to be honest. Jeth has been known to kill his recruits; especially casters. It’s what first attracted me to you. Don’t get me wrong sweetheart, I thought you were attractive the minute I saw you all shy and quiet in front of us. Even Buddy was a cutie!” Elizabeth winked and gave him a little grin as she remembered the moment, “Then a few months later, I see Jeth missing an eye and everyone saying the new recruit had done it. Well, now that I knew you were a contender and that you had potential I decided to see if my attraction towards you was more than skin deep.” She finished with a demure look on her face. Tartum saw where this was going and took the bait happily.
“So, what have you determined?” he asked, sliding over towards her.
Elizabeth smiled wickedly before she responded, “Well you’re attractive enough to be sure, but you’re really needy and you talk too much. Plus, you study that stupid book of yours sooo much. What does a girl have to do to get your attention anyway?!” as she said it she began to laugh and leaned in for a kiss.
Tartum was having too good of a day to allow her to get in the last word of their feigned fight. Teasingly, he turned his head away from her and folded his arms across his chest. With the most hurt, childish, voice he could manage he replied; “Harrumph! If that’s the way you feel then I guess me and Buddy will just have to find a new girl to be around that appreciates a well-read man.” He barely finished his retort without bursting with laughter.
“Oh that’s it, you brat! I’ll show you just how much this girl appreciates her ogre slayer!” she said with just enough venom in her voice to get Tartum’s blood moving. She threw herself at him, and they both fell to the floor laughing as they kissed. Their moment of bliss was cut short by Buddy, jumping out from under the bed and barking at the doorway. Tartum couldn’t see who was there because the table was obscuring the view.
From the doorway, a throat cleared. “Tartum, I hope I’m not interrupting, but I need to talk with you, son.” the voice said. Tartum and Elizabeth recognized who said that immediately and jumped up at the sound of Savall’s voice. Straitening their clothing in an attempt to make themselves presentable, Tartum gave Buddy the command to relax.
“Down, Buddy. Its ok, it’s ok! Savall can enter.” He patted Buddy as he coaxed his pet’s anger down. “Friend, friend, Buddy. Down!” Buddy looked up at Tartum and back at Savall. With one last woof, he went back under the bed. Tartum smiled, he really loved that dog.
Remembering who was in his room, Tartum stood up and greeted his leader. “Boss! Sorry about that, Buddy was just doing his job. Please come in and have a seat.” Tartum pulled out a chair and offered it to Savall.
Waving away the offered chair, Savall walked inside the room, keeping half an eye on the space between the bed and the floor. “Never have I seen a dog so loyal to its master. You did well to rescue him from the urchins in the alley.” he said. Tartum was confused at the topic of conversation Savall had chosen and didn’t know how to respond. Instead of taking the chance of saying something to make himself sound foolish, he simply nodded. It seemed to be the right response.
“Sorry, I didn’t come down here to ruin your celebrations. Truly, from what Rashlarr and Vaund have told me, you have earned yourself quite the victory; almost destroying the training room in the process.” Savall smiled as he spoke. “That’s not why I’m here either, although congratulations are in order. No, I’m here because Rashlarr and Vaund also told me what Jeth did, and how you overcame his treachery, and how you handled him afterward.”
Tartum began to speak up to defend himself, but Savall held up his hand to silence him. “No, Tartum, I’m not mad at you, son. Truth be told, Jeth has had that coming for a long time, and I’m surprised he would try such a foolish thing. No, I came to stop anymore retribution from occurring on either side before it can be plotted. I’ve already talked to Jeth and informed him that if he ever does anything to hinder, harm, or betray you again, that I would be the one he would answer too.” A sinister look crossed his face as he continued; “He knows that if he tries something like that again, with any recruit or member of my guild, I’ll gut him and feed him to your dog!” The tone of his voice and look on his face made Tartum’s mouth dry. He looked down at the pitcher of water on the table for just a moment, but decided this was not the best time to look weak in front of his boss. He had a feeling that murderous intent in his eyes could easily transfer from Jeth to himself.
Savall’s demeanor changed, and the predatory look in his eyes was replaced by a humbler one. Reaching into a hidden compartment in his armor, Savall drew out an exquisite double edged knife. The handle was made out of solid jade that had been hand crafted to look like the neck and head of a roaring dragon. The blade was folded steel and had dual, razor sharp edges. The blade was flawless and had been well cared for. Savall saw Tartum admiring the blade and sheathed it in a rounded scabbard made from the same jade as the handle. It was nine inches long from the top of the hilt to the tip of blade and was the most beautiful knife Tartum had ever seen.
“I told you after you took Jeth’s eye that there would be no retribution from either side. I gave you my word, and Jeth broke it. The only reason he’s not dead at my hand is because I need him for a big mission coming up. I need you as well, son. Which is why I’ve come here, I apologize on behalf of Jeth and my inability to keep him to his word. I offer you this knife as a token of my promise to keep him true to his word this time, and that there will not be any more retaliations. I also give you this knife as a prize for killing an ogre that has been an irritant to me for almost a decade. It cost me a fortune to keep that brute fed and entertained, just so he could kill recruits not worthy of the guild. So, I’m sorry, Tartum, and thank you.” His apology given, Savall walked over and placed the knife in Tartum’s hands.
“Rashlarr tells me he calls you the Jade Mage now. I thought that this knife suited that name. It goes well with your staff and dome spell in any case.” He said. With a smile, Savall headed back towards the door. Stopping at the doorway, he looked back at Tartum; “I have big plans for you, son. Don’t let me down by failing your over exam. I’ll come for you in a few days. Be prepared.”
Looking from Savall, to the knife, and back, Tartum’s pride swelled; placing the knife in his belt, he nodded at Savall. “I’ll be ready, Boss.” Savall smiled and walked out of his room.
Elizabeth had been silent and still as the scene played out before her. Now she went over and looked at the knife in Tartum’s belt. He noticed a hint of jealousy in her eyes as she looked up at him. Smiling at her, Tartum couldn’t help himself; “Weren’t you about to show me how much you appreciate me before we were interrupted?” he asked her.
Rolling her eyes, Elizabeth smiled and shoved Tartum on the bed. “I’ll show you that I’m a better reward than any stupid knife, sweetheart!” she stated, as she began kissing him on his neck.
Tartum closed his eyes and let Elizabeth do all the work. This was truly one of the best days of his life!
CHAPTER 20
Having the next few days off, Tartum decided that this would be a good time to do something he had meant to do since he got out of the Null Box. He gathered up his staff and headed towards Vaund’s room. He decided it was time to figure out how to heal himself with magic, instead of always relying on Vaund to do it for h
im.
He found him in his room on the second floor. He was sitting in a heavily cushioned chair positioned next to a round table in the center of the room. The chair’s twin was across from it on the other side of the table, unoccupied. Vaund’s room was small, but Tartum found it strangely inviting. It was completely carpeted from the floor all the way to the ceiling with a dark red, thick, and shaggy material that made the room look like it was the inside of a fur ball. There were lanterns on the tables and shelves that cluttered the room and a large bookcase that took up the wall that shared the doorway. A hammock hung from the ceiling against the far side of the room, and just like in Elizabeth’s room, the shelves were full of items and trinkets of all sorts. Unlike Elizabeth’s room, Vaund kept the lights dim so that his room was bathed in a perpetual twilight, and there was incense burning in numerous small pots. The smoky atmosphere combined with the dim light of the lanterns and red hue of the walls seemed familiar to Tartum. He didn’t quite understand it, but he really felt comfortable inside Vaund’s room. Looking up from his book Vaund noticed Tartum admiring his room. He smiled his sad smile and put his book down on the table.
“What can I do for you, Jade Mage? Are you hurt?” Vaund asked. His genuine concern touched Tartum, and he shook his head.
“No, my friend; I’m fine. I actually came to see you to ask you about your magic. Do you have a moment?” Tartum asked.
Vaund looked stunned and then smiled. He motioned for Tartum to take a seat in the cushioned chair across from him. Tartum sank into the chair and immediately felt right at home. He made a mental note to get himself a chair like this for his own room. The wooden, uncomfortable, mess he used for a chair just wouldn’t do after sitting in this luxury. Situating himself, Tartum learned back and looked at Vaund. He was looking back at him intently, and Tartum could tell he was coming out of his skin with curiosity.
“What would you like to know?” he asked.
“I would like you to teach me how to heal myself. Nothing fancy or overly complicated, I just want to be able to heal my wounds without having to wait for you to show up just in the nick of time. Like you said before, you have better things to do than wait around for me to get myself killed.” Tartum laughed.
Vaund looked touched that Tartum had asked him to teach him his craft. He began to respond but stopped himself short. He looked saddened by something and then shook his head. Looking down at his feet, he explained. “I can teach you how to use magic to cure sicknesses and heal others. To mend their bones and fix their flesh, but there is no way to heal yourself using magic. It’s like trying to pick yourself up. It can’t be done.” Vaund’s voice was full of sorrow, and Tartum found it odd that he would be so apologetic about something that wasn’t his fault.
“Why can’t a caster use magic to heal himself?” he asked. It didn’t make sense that if the spell could target another that it couldn’t target the user.
The sadness in Vaund’s eyes remained as he answered the question, “When a caster uses magic to heal someone, he coaxes the magic not into his patient but into himself. The magic fuses with his soul, and when he is completely infused he pushes the magic out and into the wound of his patient. Each time he does this, he loses a bit of his soul. It doesn’t kill him, but it shortens the caster’s lifespan each time he does it. The amount of time lost is directly dependent on the severity of the wound he’s trying to heal. A scratch or a bruise might take a few hours away, while a stab wound or a major laceration might take anywhere from a few days to a few weeks from him.” Taking a deep breath, Vaund finished his explanation. “For the most grievous, life-threatening wounds, like the ones you’ve sustained a couple times, the cost is as severe as the injury; anywhere from one to five years can be lost, magically healing someone that close to death.”
Tartum was floored. He couldn’t believe that Vaund had lost years of his life just to save the life of someone he barely knew; to save him! It was unfathomable that Vaund may have sacrificed almost a decade of his life over the past year just to keep him alive! Although he was grateful to Vaund for his charity, he couldn’t understand how anyone could give so much for someone they weren’t close to. It suddenly made sense why healing magic was so rare.
“No, no that can’t be true. I healed Buddy in the alley, brought him back from certain death. He was stabbed and burned, and I think he even had an eye missing, and I brought him back. I didn’t feel my soul being used or channel the magic into myself. From what I remember, I channeled a lot of magic into him. You much be mistaken!” Tartum said. He needed what Vaund said to be untrue.
Vaund smiled sadly and shook his head, “It’s different when healing an animal. I don’t know why exactly. My mother told me it was because the gods didn’t care as much about the souls of beasts, so the price wasn’t required. She said the only way to keep a humanoid soul from the gods was by sacrificing another. The offering and pure unselfishness of the act was enough to placate even the most bloodthirsty of gods. You could heal Buddy one hundred times, and it wouldn’t age you a day. Heal a humanoid, and it could take five years off your life.” he said.
Tartum felt relief at knowing he hadn’t damaged his soul when he instinctually healed Buddy. The thought that he might have lost years was almost too much to bear. With the amount of magic he channeled into him that day Tartum wasn’t sure how much longer he would have had to live if that had been the case. He was also grateful to know he could do it again without having to pay that ultimate price. The relief was short lived as the thought reinforced the fact that Vaund was afforded no such leniency.
“How can you, I mean...why would you do...Why would you kill yourself to save me?!” Tartum asked.
Vaund’s sad smile made another appearance as he spoke, “When I was a teenager I lived in a poorer district of Saroth. My mother raised me the best she could by using her healing magic for money. She taught me how to do it when I showed I had magical ability, and together we lived a simple but difficult life. She would go to the hospitals and clinics around the city and would offer to save the lives of those the doctors said were beyond saving. Magical healing is a very rare art, Tartum, and most people believe it doesn’t exist. Eventually, my mother healed someone that knew her talent for what it was, and they forced her to heal for them under the threat that they’d kill me if she didn’t. They took her from clinic to clinic, demanding exorbitant amounts of money for her healing skills. They knew she was using magic to heal people, but they didn’t know that every time she did, it was killing her. For months, they kept us locked together in a room in one of the lower end inns of the city. They fed us well enough, but we were never allowed to leave. They never mistreated me, but I saw bruises and scratches on my mother from time to time. One day, after months of captivity, they brought my mother back to the room; she was exhausted and clutching her chest. The men that brought her into the room dropped her on the bed and locked us in. I remember the men saying my mother had saved a rich noble and his retinue of body guards after they had been found beaten and near death outside of town. My mother saved their lives and the grateful prince paid the men a small fortune in gratitude. The healing had cost my mother too much of her soul, and that night, before the sun came up, she died in front of me.” Vaund lowered his head and began to sob. Not knowing what he could do, Tartum sat in silence and waited for his friend to finish mourning over the memory.
This wasn’t going the way he had planned. He had no idea that Vaund’s story was such a sad one. He thought about leaving and never mentioning this again, but he was curious. He wanted to know how his story ended. So he sat there, quietly, respectfully, and waited for his friend to finish his cry.
After a few minutes, Vaund wiped his eyes and looked up. He seemed surprised that Tartum was still there. “I’m, I’m sorry Tartum. It’s...it’s just hard to remember all this, you know? I was only seven years old when she died.” He said.
It was now Tartum’s turn to apologize, “No, my friend, no. It’s comple
tely understandable. I never knew my mother, but my father died in his sleep when I was sixteen. I completely understand, and you have nothing to be ashamed of.” He said. His words improved Vaund’s mood considerably. He sat up a little straighter in his chair and began telling his story again.
“I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know where to go or what to think. I knew when the men found out my mother was dead they would discard me, possibly even kill me. I didn’t care much about being killed. The pain of it scared me a lot, but the hope of being with my mother again was worth it. Later that night, one of them came into the room and, just as I thought, they figured out she was dead. They beat me really, really bad. I don’t remember much after the beating, but I do remember one of them was standing over me with a sword and was about to stab me, when a sword burst through his chest. It was the biggest blade I’d ever seen, and the last memory I have of that night was the man that was about to kill me being ripped in half by that gigantic sword.” Vaund took a deep breath and was silent for a while. When he started talking again his voice was strong and full of resolve.
“I had forfeit my life that night, Tartum. With my mother dead, I really didn’t want to live anymore. There are times I still don’t. Anyway, as you might have guessed, it was Savall that saved me. Well, I wouldn’t say he saved me really. The men that had worked my mother to death had been celebrating their new found fortune and drinking a lot. I guess Savall was at the inn that night and began questioning them about their good fortune. During the course of their conversation they revealed my mother and me to Savall and what we could do. I think Savall killed the men to use us in much the same way as they did. After he killed them and realized I was the only one alive in the room, he brought me here and nursed me back to health. I don’t know Tartum, he was the only person that was ever nice to me other than my mother, and one day, several weeks after he brought me here me, he took me to the cemetery and showed me a gravestone with my mother’s name on it.” Vaund began to cry again, and Tartum let him. He was digesting what Vaund had told him. After a moment, Vaund stopped crying and began talking again.
The Jade Mage: The Becoming: Volume 1 Page 37