Marin's Codex

by Benjamin Medrano

  “I might lose what I’ve figured out if I do that. I really shouldn’t,” Marin murmured, shaking her head. “There’s so much left to do.”

  “You won’t be able to finish the next one if you get sick or pass out, Teacher. I don’t care how good of a healer you are, some things you can’t fix,” Emonael countered, feeling more confident since Marin hadn’t outright said no. “It’s just an evening. Get a decent meal, listen to some music, and get a good night’s sleep, please?”

  Marin seemed to be slightly hesitant, but after a moment she looked up at Emonael, her eyes holding just a spark of fanaticism, but there was obvious exhaustion there as well. It took a few moments, but at last she nodded, sighing softly. “As you wish, Emonael. I haven’t fully gotten into the next volume yet, and a bit of a rest does sound somewhat appealing.”

  “Wonderful,” Emonael breathed out in relief, a part of her wondering when she’d grown so concerned about Marin. It wasn’t simply a desire to see the fruits of her research, but it was also a simple concern about her health. Mulling it over in the back of her mind, Emonael offered Marin a hand to help her up.

  Taking her hand, Marin rose with a soft groan, wincing visibly as she murmured, “I think I was sitting for too long.”

  With a wave of Marin’s hand, the motes of light throughout the library faded away, leaving the room far dimmer. Emonael pondered a moment, then asked. “What use could forming a huge spell out of that mana have, Teacher?”

  “I have little idea. But if one was able to power it and actually able to force the spell to resonate properly . . . I have to wonder if there’s anything that couldn’t be done? The ninth volume is going to be simple, yet complex . . .” Marin said, shrugging as she started toward the kitchen, one hand habitually grabbing her copper mug as she moved. “I wish I had spells of that scale to test. I wish I had the skill and power to properly test them . . . but instead, the nature of mana means I cannot. They’re too enormous, and researching them would take weeks or months. Instead, I can but explain the theory of how they would work and the nature of mana flowing through the skies, and hope someone takes that step. You will, won’t you?”

  “Teacher, I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Emonael replied tartly, opening the door to the kitchen and quickly heading for the pot simmering over the fire. The fire spell was still consuming mana at a steady rate, which meant the heat hadn’t varied, to her relief, and she stirred the simmering pot, nodding in approval as she continued. “I’m still wrapping my mind around the contents of your sixth volume, remember? I’ve figured out divinations, teleportation, and a good part of ritual magic, but I haven’t even started on what you consider advanced topics.”

  “It’s . . .” Marin paused, holding her mug as she considered, then sighed, shrugging. “Well, powerful magi are called High Magi, so let’s call it High Magic. With it, you would meld together the lessons which I’ve taught you already, Emonael. Drawn spell-forms like a ritual spell carved into the earth merge with the normal method of spellcasting, yet it’ll also require multiple casters, each with their own incantation to perform and activate different parts of the spell. I can’t imagine anyone could supply the mana for such a spell on their own, so it would likely have to be performed on a ley line nexus of the right alignment . . . but if one could achieve it, I believe they could perform wonders that might match those of the gods themselves. Raising an island from the sea, or waking a volcano from its slumber, reshaping the land . . . I don’t truly know that they’re possible, but it haunts my dreams, Emonael. It’s so close, yet so very far.”

  “That . . . that seems incredibly fantastic, Teacher, but I know better than to doubt you at this point,” Emonael replied, pausing in stirring the stew, her worry growing again. “How do you know it’s possible? To do all of that, I mean.”

  “We’re standing atop an earth node. I’ve attempted much weaker versions of the same before,” Marin told Emonael calmly, stepping over to the wash basin and starting to clean her mug absently. “It didn’t go well. Tapping a ley line is not something to be done lightly, for it shattered the spell like it hadn’t existed. Only for the largest, most powerful of spells would I even dare to do it, and tapping a ley line requires you to use an immense amount of mana in its own right.”

  “You tested it? Why didn’t I notice, then?” Emonael finally swung the pot out from above the fire, extinguishing the fire spell with a thought.

  “As I said, the spell shattered like it never existed. There wasn’t even a chance for it to go wrong, it was so thoroughly destroyed,” Marin replied, looking at the stew and tilting her head. “Venison stew?”

  “With a number of vegetables, yes. The others should be here soon, and Christoff went to town to get some bread from this morning,” Emonael told her, smiling and tilting her head as she heard something. “In fact, that sounds like them now.”

  The four who’d gone to the Grand Hall entered as she lowered the wards for them, chatting brightly, but as Uthar stepped into the kitchen he paused before bowing his head. “High Mage, I didn’t expect you to be joining us! How are you?”

  “I am tolerably well. Emonael asked me to take an evening off, and I realized that such would not be amiss. I’m rather tired,” Marin replied, nodding to him and finishing drying her mug.

  “That’s good to hear,” Damiya added, nodding as she slipped past Uthar. “We were just going to set the table, if you don’t mind?”

  “Not at all. I’ll move out of your way,” Marin told the younger woman, taking a moment to rub her eyes before heading for the door.

  The others quickly let her through, then entered the kitchen, gathering the dishes they’d need, while Nia asked, concern in her voice, “Umm . . . Emonael? Is she okay? She seems . . . weird.”

  “I don’t know,” Emonael answered honestly, sighing and shrugging in return. “Marin was doing much better for a time there, but I’ve never seen her like this before. While it worries me, there’s not much we can do. Maybe a night of relaxation will do her good.”

  “I guess. I’ll try to help; promise,” Nia said, nodding firmly.

  “Thank you, Nia,” Emonael spoke warmly. “Now, let’s get this soup into a pot for the table, shall we?”

  Dinner was good, at least from Marin’s point of view. She knew she’d eaten over the last few weeks, she had to have eaten, but what was another question, and one which she couldn’t have answered. The savory stew and slightly nutty bread was a welcome change, and one which stuck out to her. Still, she couldn’t eat much before she was full, and had chosen to sit back and listen to the others chatter about their training and daily lives.

  Emonael was making good progress with them, Marin realized. Certainly, they were still figuring out the basics, but within a year, maybe two, each would be far enough along that calling them merely apprentices wouldn’t be fair. Most magi would be considering whether or not to test them as journeymen, and Marin made a note to bring it up to her own apprentice in private.

  Thinking of Emonael as her apprentice made Marin snort in amusement. Their relationship was far more complicated than anyone would understand, and by this point Emonael’s power had far eclipsed Marin’s own. Marin knew it, even if Emonael didn’t want to admit it. Oh, Marin still had a few tricks that Emonael couldn’t manage just yet, and she actually understood the research which Emonael was learning, but the demon’s base power gave her an advantage that Marin couldn’t possibly offset anymore. Not that she wanted to offset it.

  “High Mage?” Christoff looked at her, looking quite chagrined.

  “Hmm? What?” Marin asked, blinking in confusion as she was drawn out of her thoughts. “I’m sorry; I was woolgathering, so I didn’t catch what you were speaking about.”

  “Oh good! I was afraid that you were teasing me, too,” Christoff replied, slumping back in relief.

  “What’s this all about, anyway?” Marin asked, glancing around the table curiously.

  “He’s been seeing
the baker’s daughter in Maple Lake, Leah. He’s been courting her,” Nia quickly explained, grinning broadly. “She intends to be a baker herself, not a mage at all!”

  “ . . . And?” Marin asked, raising her eyebrows at them curiously as she looked around the table.

  “Well, isn’t that a little out of sorts for a magister? He’s going to be incredible, and he’s courting a baker!” Andrew said, gesturing expansively with his mug of water, and promptly splashing Damiya. “Oh, sorry, Damiya, I got carried away.”

  “I don’t see what being a magister has to do with relationships at all,” Marin replied mildly, giving the embarrassed Christoff a smile as she shrugged, watching Damiya glare at Andrew before casting a spell to remove the water from her robes. “Unless it’s a state marriage or the like, I’ve never seen that the power of individuals relates to their happiness. If you and Leah get along well, Christoff, I hope that you have long, happy lives together. I’ve seen enough poor relationships in my life that were ‘proper’ relationships that I cannot blame anyone who simply wants to be happy.”

  Her words seemed to make everyone pause to look at one another, most of them with a little guilt, Marin thought. Christoff looked relieved, while Emonael and Uthar looked thoughtful.

  “Thank you, High Mage. That . . . means a lot to me, that you’d say that,” Christoff said, nodding and looking at his plate for a few seconds before he asked, “May I ask if you’ve ever had a serious relationship?”

  His question was like a dagger in some ways, striking an old wound. It wasn’t too painful, not after the intervening centuries, but it still hurt, and Marin found her hands trembling slightly. Emonael had gone almost as still as a statue, her dark eyes on Marin.

  “Once, Christoff, I thought I’d found a relationship which I could enjoy. It was long, long ago . . . but it came to naught in the end. To this day it hurts . . . but Nikara did what he believed was best for him,” Marin admitted softly. “I’ve had a few other relationships, but none have had the depth with which I felt for him. Perhaps it’s simply that I’ve grown wary of relationships with others, but none of them sparked such feelings. Had one of the fey shown interest in me, I could likely have spent the rest of my life in their ethereal gardens, but such wouldn’t have been truly living for me. My experiences, both good and bad, are what made me who I am.”

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize . . .” Christoff began to stammer, but Marin waved it off with a smile.

  “Don’t be sorry. If I didn’t want to answer, I wouldn’t have told you, Christoff. If the relationship is true, if she feels for you what you feel for her, treasure it,” Marin interrupted gently. “I will not judge you. And none of you should judge him, either. Your life is just that, yours. If you decide that becoming a High Mage isn’t your goal, that another path is better for you, take it. Consider carefully, but life is too short to have a great number of regrets. Gods know that I have some of them myself, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to fail at my ultimate goal.”

  Uthar let out a soft breath of relief and smiled. “Thank you for that, High Mage. Part of me has been wondering if I needed to focus on magic instead of my music, though I love music slightly more.”

  “Don’t wonder. If you love both, try to balance them,” Marin said, then paused and looked at Emonael, hesitating before adding, “My apologies, Emonael. I shouldn’t have said something like that, as they’re your students.”

  “No, no, you’re fine, Teacher,” Emonael protested, sitting forward and eating the last crust of her bread before adding. “I hadn’t thought about it that way, but you’re right. If you don’t have the desire or passion to go far in magic or another craft, you won’t get as far. I have that desire for magic, but that doesn’t mean anyone else does, and I’ve been treating all of you like you do. I apologize for that, and will try to do better in the future.”

  “I think it’s alright, Emonael. You just want us to do our best,” Nia said, the others indicating their agreement as she smiled. “It does help, though. Knowing that even High Magi have the same sort of experiences and feelings as we do.”

  “Be as that may, I wouldn’t suggest disrespecting other High Magi when you don’t know them. Hothar and Valis might be friendly, but they can have their bad sides, and Larin . . . you might find yourself floating a few hundred feet in the sky, upside down as he lectures you on proper respect for one of his station and power,” Marin cautioned. The chorus of nervous laughs amused her, and she looked at Uthar and asked, “Might I hear you play my old harp, Uthar? The conversation has me in a sentimental mood.”

  “Of course, High Mage,” Uthar said quickly, standing. “It’ll be my pleasure.”

  When he began to play, Marin closed her eyes and tried to lose herself in the music, even as the tones sparked new thoughts and ideas about the nature of magic in the back of her mind.

  Chapter 30

  Spring slowly turned to summer, and Emonael began to copy the eighth volume, though at Hothar’s request she made a half dozen additional copies of the first three volumes as well. Those copies were intended to be distributed to teachers in the Association, as well as to the war magi of the kingdom, once Marin’s research was complete.

  It was in the middle of making a copy that Emonael felt the summons from Vira again. It didn’t manage to interrupt her spell, so the demon continued speaking the words of the book aloud until she finished the chapter. With each word, the magic swirled traces of ink from the nearby inkwell and imprinted it onto the page of the copy being made, drying the ink as it faithfully copied her words. Emonael never tried to make mistakes, but she was certain a few had crept into the text here and there. At last finished with the chapter, Emonael slipped a thin ribbon bookmark into place and set down the original before heading to contact her servant. She could pick up where she was soon enough.

  When Vira’s image appeared in the mirror this time, Emonael immediately noticed that the other succubus had obviously been waiting for her. This time, Vira was wearing elaborate white robes which almost had to be stolen from an angel, and she was sitting in one of the rooms adorned with plush crimson velvet as she waited.

  “Mistress, it’s good to see you again! I was growing a touch concerned at the wait, I’ll admit,” Vira exclaimed, smiling and leaning forward.

  “I was in the middle of a project, and finished that before contacting you. I do have to pose as a mortal, I’ll remind you,” Emonael replied, resisting the urge to smile.

  “Why? They’re just mortals. You should be able to wrap all of them around your little finger, between your magic and skill.” Vira’s smile faded into a puzzled expression. “They’re generally weak and barely worth mentioning.”

  “That’s what I thought when I came here, Vira, and I’ve since learned better. Mortals are immensely weaker than any demon on an individual basis, but some mortals can reach heights of power which could threaten even the most powerful of us,” Emonael explained, shaking her head as she pondered how her perspective had changed. “There are five ‘High Magi’ where I am now, and while none of them could match me in combat individually, I’d be hard-pressed to merely survive against four of them working together. The fifth is another matter entirely, but she’s aware of what I am and doesn’t care.”

  “I suppose that might be true . . . but you have a new cultist, Mistress?” Vira asked, her eyebrows rising. “And a powerful magister at that? That’s wonderful news!”

  “No, I don’t. She’s rather stubbornly refused to go that far, despite my many offers,” Emonael said in amusement. “Still, we get along surprisingly well despite that. Now, you contacted me, and I don’t have all day. Why?”

  “As you say, though I find myself puzzled that you haven’t forced the issue . . .” Vira’s confusion vanished as she continued. “However, I’ve been investigating as you requested. One of our agents was peripherally involved in Braemas’s factions, and she allowed herself to be pulled in more thoroughly. There’s only so much informati
on she can gather, as she’s a new member of their faction, but she got a decent amount already and passed it along. I could instruct her to try to get more, but it would risk losing her services.”

  Ignoring Vira’s suggestion, Emonael listened closely, nodding. “I see. No, no, don’t risk her life over the information. A good, loyal spy is hard enough to find as it is. What could she find out about these cultists and Braemas?”

  “The Brotherhood of High Magi is a group of spellcasters, primarily of humans but with other races as well. They believe that magic should be the exclusive domain of those who have exceptional talents, as well as those who have the obvious potential to become High Magi. All others are worthless and unworthy, in their view,” Vira said clinically. “Due to this, they were driven underground by other magi, turning to demonic aid in their goals. They’re arrogant but powerful due to the nature of the magi whom they recruit. This is according to other demons, so I view the reports with some degree of skepticism.”

  “Just don’t let it blind you to the possibility of underestimating your opponents,” Emonael replied absently, working through ideas as she asked. “What of their relationship with Braemas?”

  “Braemas has been sponsoring the Brotherhood, granting them minor boons and sending them demonic servitors. In exchange, he’s been demanding young magi in return, or even any who oppose them.” Vira’s voice was sober, and Emonael gave her a sharp look.

  “What’s he doing with these magi?” Emonael asked, her voice deathly calm.

  “Consuming them, as usual,” Vira explained. “The details were . . . fuzzy, but it seems that he can absorb a portion of the power and knowledge of those which he consumes. It was most unpleasant to learn about, and explains why many of his opponents simply vanish without a trace.”