by Rick Field
Urgency filled her, time would not be suspended forever, and she was in mortal danger still. “Lord Ercharthaetuli,” she intoned as loud as she could. “I have come before you with a plight of assistance!”
The voice that sounded from the spirit was deep, masculine, and spoke flawless and accent-less Kirian. “For the payment of two pints of blood, I shall listen to your petition, Liane, known as the MagicWarper. What is it you require?”
She swallowed. “My Lord, I wish for the power to crush my enemy. I am being held at sword-edge, ready to be slain, and request the power to crush my enemy.”
The spirit leaned closer, its head filling her vision as it stared at her with eyes that seemed as large as mountains. “What you ask, can be done,” he spoke, finally. “However, what you ask is expensive. A bargain must be struck. You will pay me two months of your lifespan in exchange for my assistance. In return, I, Ercharthaetuli, Major Spirit of Fire, shall lend you the power and ability to crush your enemy. Do you agree, or do you wish to be returned to your realm?”
Liane swallowed her terror at the force of the voice that pounded on her now that the Major Spirit's head was straight in front of her. She nodded. “I accept the bargain, My Lord Ercharthaetuli.”
The spirit looked at her. “You know what must be done, Liane, known as the MagicWarper.”
She drew breath. “By the power of threefold three,” she said, her voice quivering in equal parts anticipation and terror, “I, Liane, the MagicWarper, consent to the deal, accept the obligation, and comply with your demands, Lord Ercharthaetuli. I sign the contract made, offer my vow on the bargain struck, and embrace the power you offer. I will admit to your requests and welcome your influence. My name is Liane, known as the MagicWarper, and I agree to pay the price you have set forth.”
The spirit stared at her for along moment of no-time. The darkness that surrounded both of them wavered. “The deal has been struck, Liane, known as the MagicWarper. Awaken to the real world and accept all that I am to crush your opponent.”
Fylian had a malicious grin on his face as he held his sword at Liane's throat. When he felt her sigh and relax, he knew that he had her, and that she was about to surrender.
The next moment, a shudder went through her body, and he was sure she would be choosing life over death. Before he could say anything, a horrible, inhuman, overwhelming magical presence seemed to press down upon him.
Gasping for breath, he saw her hand come up, grab his sword, and simply pull it away, despite her holding it by the sharp edge with her bare hand. Inhumanly, her head rotated 180 degrees, and stared straight at him with eyes that were glowing embers of black coal. “You will die,” she stated, her voice sounding both human and inhuman, a dark and low edge to it that was decidedly not Liane.
He opened his mouth in an attempt to speak, when her head rotated 180 degrees in the same direction it had rotated earlier. He could hear her vertebrae snapping and grinding as she did so until she completed a full 360 degree circle, and a hiss sounded as the injuries healed themselves.
Liane stepped forward, still holding the blade away from her as she did so, and walked to the center of the room. Outside, the Sun Charm broke, and snow started falling on the Academy grounds for the first time. At the same time as the temperature inside the room dropped spectacularly, to the point where the moisture in the air condensed into fog and mist. Heat soaked into Liane to the point where the air around her quivered with the energy of it.
She turned to face her opponent. “As the deal has been made,” Liane's inhuman voice intoned, “so I will do. I will crush you. I will allow you one attack.” She spread her arms. “Kill me, and claim victory.”
Fylian blinked, but wasn't about to throw away a second chance at killing her. The first time he had gone for her humiliation, but this time, he would go for her life. Charging, he attempted to plunge his sword through her chest.
The metal of the blade melted before it ever reached her, the runes of the non-permanent enchantments on the blade petering out in an instant. Dumbstruck, he stared at the hilt of his sword, and the puddle of metal on the floor. Liane's lips smirked at him. “Die, insect.”
He had just enough time to pull himself up in indignation at the insult, before her hand came up. A hand that was suddenly holding a ball of white-hot energy. Fylian did not even have time to shout when the energy vaporized him. The wall behind him scorched and sparked as the school's protections were overcome with the power of the blast. Jerking her hand, Liane cut off the beam of power before it would take down the wall.
“We have completed our deal, Liane, known as the MagicWarper. I shall now take two months of your lifespan as my own,” Liane spoke, seemingly to herself.
“Thank you, Lord Ercharthaetuli. The price is small in comparison to the assistance you have given me, and I pay it gladly,” she answered herself, this time her voice sounding like herself. The glow in her eyes died out, and Liane stumbled. Somehow, she managed to catch her balance. Outside, the Sun Charm started shining again, and the temperature started to climb back up at a rapid pace.
“Winner, Liane the MagicWarper,” the Lord Master said, staring at her with an unreadable look in his eyes. She looked back, hoping that he agreed with her choice. As Amy and Milor approached her, the Lord Master gave a small nod, a tiny twitch of respect on his lips. “You did well, My Lady,” he said, before turning and leaving.
“Proctor?” Amy asked, looking worried.
Liane blinked slowly, and looked at her Assistant. “Assistant?”
“Are you alright?” the younger girl asked. “You invoked a Major Spirit.”
Liane nodded. “That I did. I bargained to crush my opponent. Lord Ercharthaetuli decided to conclude the bargain himself, rather than lend me his power.” She shrugged. “The results are the same.”
“You, My Lady, become ever more frightening every time I see you in serious combat,” Milor said, his voice tinted with respect. “I truly believed you would die when his sword was at your throat.”
“He was a fool who tried to force my surrender,” Liane said. “Had he just struck me down, he would have been victorious. As it was, he allowed me time to bargain with a Major Spirit.” Uncomfortable with the stares of the audience still present in the room, Liane guided her friend and her Assistant out of the room. A quick nod to Dars showed that he, too, was welcome to join them. The other Council Members were left behind. Liane caught the eyes of both Magi while she left. As both of them were students of the Deep Secrets by default, they knew what she had done.
To her surprise, they gave her nods of respect.
When she was finally assured of privacy with her friends and Assistant, Liane leaned against the wall, showing how incredibly drained she felt. “Invoking a Major Spirit is dangerous,” she said in a near-whisper. “One can invoke a lesser or a medium spirit with little difficulty. But, I needed a Major Spirit. Compacting with a Major Spirit means stopping time while you do so, and that was what I needed to save my life. Had I compacted with a lesser spirit, he would have been present during the negotiation process and would have realized I was about to crush him. I needed the Major Spirit in order to stop time and surprise him.”
She swallowed deeply at the realization of what she had just done. “Had the negotiation failed, I could have been killed by the spirit. One does not contract with the Major Spirits without a very good reason.”
“Proctor?” Amy asked, worried. “I know the price required. Do you need to visit the hospital?”
Milor stiffened visibly, as if only now noting the pale tone of her skin and the way she kept leaning against the wall. “My Lady?” he asked, as if asking for an explanation.
“In broad lines, My Lord,” Liane explained, “Summoning a spirit, any spirit, requires two things. The first is a tribute to get the spirit to listen to you. This tribute is paid in blood. A Major Spirit requires two pints of blood in tribute. The second is payment for the services; this payment is taken in life force
. You will die sooner than normal. The bigger the request; the more life force the spirit will demand in answer.”
“How much was it, Proctor?” Amy asked, shuffling about as if unsure what to do.
“Two months, Assistant,” Liane replied. “Two pints is about twenty-five percent of so of my total blood volume, I really should not summon any spirits soon.”
Milor gave her a concerned look. “I believe that would be a good idea, My Lady,” he told her seriously.
Liane just nodded. “Please excuse me, My Lord, but I need to go lie down, and have something to eat and drink. I will probably be quite weak for some time to come.”
He just nodded, and let them go. Part of him had wanted to offer to escort her, but the larger part of him realized that it would both be improper, and denied anyway.
*****
Liane stood at attention in front of the panel of judges. Today was her last day in what had been an exhausting two week period of intense examinations, tests that would determine whether or not she were fit to graduate as a fully credited Mage.
Having just finished hexing a helpless corpse, she awaited her next, and final, test. Most of the spells and rituals she had been asked to perform today were things that had been asked of her before, the repetition there solely to inform the panel whether she had been just lucky or really did know her subject.
“Please curse the owner of this lock of hair with bad luck, My Lady,” one of the examiners asked her, motioning to a lock of hair on the judges' table. The man in question took a sip from a cup of coffee. Liane ignored it, she desperately wanted a coffee of her own and it would not do to stare at an examiner's drink.
The request was something that had been asked of her before. Doing a quick test to determine the subject, she found that the person in question was still alive; She looked at the examiner. He just nodded. “It is me, My Lady. Do not worry; I am a fully accredited master in Hexes & Curses. It is a good sign, however; not too many of your peers test to determine who they are cursing.”
Liane dipped her head in respect, and started her spell. A hex may be only a short term inconvenience that was akin to a combat spell, but a curse was more like a ritual, as it usually was long term. Her exhausted mind wandered to the blood-boiling hex she had used on the corpse, and the blood-red vapor that had escaped grotesquely out of every orifice.
Cursing something with perpetual bad luck was long-term and more insidious. It would take a determined Hexes & Curses specialist to find the source of a well-constructed curse and dispel it. Drawing her wand, she went to work on the lock of hair, setting her chant in the back of her mind and sparing it hardly any thought as she worked the magic need in the front of her mind.
A small frown appeared in the center of her forehead when a subtle variation made itself known in her spell. Had she not been so fully attuned with her magic, had she not spent countless hours honing her reading skills of her own magical abilities in order to control her unstable magical core, it was highly likely that she would have missed it.
Working a few detection spells, she found a blood-based protection in place. It was very basic, and came straight out of one of the first books on Blood Magic that Cassandra ever asked her to read. Breaking it was just as easy, and she worked the remainder of her spell to completion in short order. Feeling it take hold, she holstered her wand and awaited the verdict on her accomplishment.
“A valiant effort, My Lady,” the man spoke, reaching for his cup. “However, you failed to see the blood-based-” the ear broke off his mug, sending the scalding hot liquid pouring over his lap. As the man jumped up in surprise, his chair tilted, swayed, and finally hit him in the back of his knees, making him stumble.
As he recomposed, the other examiners seemed to be equal parts impressed and amused. “Well done, My Lady,” the examiner said, grabbing his wand to dispel the curse. As he did so, the handle, made from oak, broke off the rest of the wand, which had been made from elder wood. For a few moments, he stared at the handle of his wand.
“Very well done, My Lady,” he added, sounding impressed. “May I request of you to break the spell? I am afraid my purse would be empty quite soon, replacing the various objects I am sure that will break in my presence.”
Just as Liane was about to acknowledge his request, the strings on the examiner's purse snapped, sending the bag to the ground and scattering coins over the floor. Liane felt herself go red with embarrassment for casting a too powerful bad-luck curse, grabbed her wand, and broke her own curse with two flicks of her wand and three words of magical incantation.
“Excellent work, My Lady,” the examiner praised her. “No need to feel badly for completing a test too well.” With as much dignity as possible, he removed the coffee stain from his robes, fixed his purse, and started gathering his coins.
She relaxed slightly at his words. “I do not believe that we need to confer,” the female examiner on the far left of the table said, ignoring her colleague who hunted for his scattered money. “Are there any who oppose the graduation of this student?”
There were no opposing votes. Liane almost floated out of the examination room a few minutes later, her robes already reflecting her promotion. As much as Decorum asked her to restrain her emotions, she still couldn't wait to share the good news with her Assistant and her friends.
Chapter Ten
The sun slowly rose over the ancient city of Kiria, burning the night's gloom away from its buildings, squares, roads and promenades. Liane looked out over the city that was her home, beholding the golden light touching the city she loved. She looked over to the Imperial palace, it's gleaming white walls shining in the golden-red light of the early morning sun.
She sighed, feeling the broken magic in her chest relax at the peace of the early morning, and after a few more minutes of silent contemplation, she returned to the book in her lap. Dealing with one of her biggest problems, the practical exploitation of magic, it was a text that did not come easily to her.
She was better at memory and theory than she was at straight out casting of spells, thanks to the broken magic she held. Usually she was able to compensate through different words or gestures, yet such changes took her time to build, time to learn. Her old Proctor, Cassandra, had taught her how to write declination circles, even drilled her into doing it from memory and by heart rather than on paper, so she would be able to do it on the fly.
Even though she could do so, and had improved to the point where it now took her mere seconds to modify a spell for her use, it was still time and effort that she had to expend in order to do so, time and effort that prohibited her from having the same fluency with magic that her fellow students enjoyed.
After all, they could cast silently and without gestures, she had to speak and motion.
She closed the book; it was of no help to her. Silently, she stared at her focus gloves, the supple material enclosing her hands yet leaving her fingers free, holding a series of focusing crystals to the back of her hands. Without those gloves, even her ability to change, bend, and modify spells on the fly wouldn't help her cast any sort of useful magic. She both loved her gloves for enabling her to use magic, and hated them for what they represented.
Looking away from her gloves and her closed book, she returned her gaze to the waking city. Carts started to appear, driving to the central market of the Lower City, pulled by horses or donkeys. A single floating cart ferried a dweller from the Upper City through the central boulevard to the city's gates, no doubt on important business.
She studied the bustling people for a few moments more, until the door to the roof opened, drawing her attention.
“Proctor?”
Liane looked at the newcomer. Amy, her twelve-year-old Assistant, was developing into a proper young lady under Liane's guiding and tutelage.
“Assistant?” Liane acknowledged.
“I believe I'm ready, Proctor,” the girl announced, standing a bit straighter.
Liane nodded. “Let us take
a look, then, Assistant,” Liane returned, standing up from where she had built herself a seat. A few spoken words and two motions of her hands vanished the seat. It was a temporary conjuration, and would have vanished in another few hours anyway, but Liane believed in cleaning up after herself.
As they walked down the staircase leading to the ground floor, Liane thought about the ritual she had her Assistant set up. It was way beyond anything an Assistant was expected to know, yet Amy had continued to perform flawlessly at any task set to her. For a moment, Liane's thoughts dwelled on the test results of her young Assistant, test results that showed the girl's incredible intellect and memory.
Liane could not have been more proud of the fact that the young girl had lived up to the expectations set by those results.
However, the ritual was still beyond anything the twelve-year-old was expected to know or understand. “Assistant,” she said, “Please explain the properties of the ritual and its expected results.”
Amy nodded once, used to constant questioning and testing by her Proctor. “I have set up a construction ritual designed to build an element-based Construct. Around the construction circle I have created a class four containment circle, designed to contain the result of the construction ritual. The circle has been modified by yourself to tap into the school's protective shields. The construction ritual is a standard element-based construction ritual, we are using it to test the hypothesis that blood is not a valid element to create a Construct.”
It was a good general overview. “Explain our thought processes, Assistant.”
Amy felt herself straighten up. Liane had said our thought processes, and the younger girl was proud to be included in her Proctor's work. “The unnamed author of Elder Magic and the Combination of Elements reported that blood was unsuited as a primary element from which a Construct could be made. In fact, the author reported catastrophic failure. Using the theoretical model as a basis, you worked out the equations. According to the theory, it should not only be possible to build a blood-based Construct, but it should work very well.”