Marin's Codex

by Benjamin Medrano

  “What was that?” Andrew exclaimed, then looked upward, back toward the Association as he gawked. “E-Emonael?”

  Turning in place, Emonael looked at the night sky and couldn’t help her own inhalation, her eyes going wide.

  Glittering circles and mandalas were shimmering in the sky, each hundreds of feet across and brilliant azure as they spun through the air, some rotating to the right, and others to the left. Streamers of energy were spinning inward to join them, and they stretched nearly five hundred feet into the sky, directly above Marin’s tower. Instinctively, Emonael reached up to touch her amulet, and only relaxed when she felt the fragment of Marin’s soul within. Her teacher wasn’t hurt, and that was all that was important to her.

  “It appears that Teacher’s experiment isn’t nearly as much of a failure as she expected. If anything, I believe that the results exceed her expectations,” Emonael replied, smiling broadly. “I think she’d have warned us otherwise.”

  “Oh, that makes sense. What was she doing?” Andrew asked, obviously still in awe.

  “I have no idea,” Emonael admitted, shrugging slightly. “We can ask her tomorrow, can we not?”

  “Pardon me, miss, but did I hear that right? That’s your teacher?” a man asked, and Emonael turned slightly to see the merchant who’d had all the rare components the previous autumn, his blond hair combed back and his eyes both dark and astonished. He looked up at the display, then back at her, one of his guards next to him.

  “She is, yes,” Emonael replied, her instincts causing her to tense. Something about his manner, and the guard’s tension, had her on edge. “I purchased some items from you last autumn, no? I’m afraid I cannot recall your name.”

  “Drat, I did hope I was more memorable than that. Gavin Goldeye, I’ll have you know. And I’m afraid that this is going to be less pleasant than I hoped,” the man replied, flicking his wrist so a dagger appeared in it and brandishing it at Emonael.

  His guard unlimbered his axe in the same moment, and all around the town square, the traveling merchants and laborers suddenly pulled out weapons, save for nearly half of them who stepped back and began incantations.

  “Surrender now and you won’t be harmed,” Gavin said, grinning at Emonael broadly. “My employers have questions for you.”

  Chapter 33

  The light swallowed Marin, and she was blinded for a long moment as she was drawn inward into herself. Her vision, if vision it was, cleared, and she found herself being pulled along by some invisible force, traveling down a tunnel with opalescent white walls, the interior of which was flowing with streams of multi-colored mana that was braided in ways almost beyond comprehension.

  The passageways branched over and over again, but the force which was pulling her was unerring, whipping her past each of the tunnels without hesitation, and with each one they passed, the tunnel grew larger.

  “Could these be . . . my mana veins?” Marin murmured, her eyes widening at the thought. “My spell didn’t fail?”

  No one replied, and moments later the tunnel opened into a vast chamber filled with a riot of mana within, blazing like the sun itself. It felt like it should have blinded Marin, yet she could see perfectly, staring at the mana within her in wonder. Her wonder turned into confusion, then near-terror as the force yanked her bodily into the chaos of the mana. True concentrations of raw mana were incredibly rare in the world, and in every instance she’d heard of someone encountering such forces, it had ended in death or the person mutating into a horrific abomination that was completely mad!

  Yet the mana didn’t seem to touch Marin at all, and her terror faded as she traveled through it, feeling the way the power roiled around her, untamed yet . . . potent. It was waiting to be shaped to her will, eager to be shaped, almost.

  Moments later, the world shifted again as Marin was dragged through another portal and into a vast river of power. Where before the tunnel had seemed like it’d been filled with streams of mana, this was a massive river of mana, one which she couldn’t even sense the edges of. She was going upstream, and was jostled back and forth by the currents, while she began to wonder where it was taking her.

  The ritual, if that was what it was, didn’t seem to care what she thought, though. It was pulling her along at an accelerating pace, as if it was gathering power the more time that passed. They plunged into a sea of golden light, then down another channel, and into another sea of light, and Marin’s eyes widened as she murmured to herself, “Of course, of course . . . the ley lines! But that means . . . are we going to the World Tree? Why would it be taking me there?”

  It was a small eternity, as she lost track of any sense of location in the seas of mana. Each flickered by a little faster, but eventually they erupted from the current, and for a mere instant she caught sight of the tree—the white bark of its massive trunk towering over a mile into the sky, its hanging branches glittering with motes of light—before she plunged downward, to be enveloped by darkness before emerging from yet another portal.

  Marin tried to flinch backward as an immense wall of rock slammed down at her. Before it could reach her, the stone was met by fire so intense it turned the stone to lava, which was quenched by water only an instant later. All around her, as far as she could see or sense, Marin could feel the six elements raging, slamming into one another in pure chaos, and from their impacts she saw mana form. Where fire and earth struck one another came fire and earth mana, and each of the others was similar. There was a strange purpose to the chaos, something fascinating about the world-ending destruction she was witnessing.

  It took a time before Marin realized she was no longer being pulled anywhere, but that she’d been allowed to come to a halt at last. Confused, she continued to watch the chaos for a time before she realized that she wasn’t alone.

  Next to her was a woman in simple brown robes, her black hair pulled back in a bun and a holy symbol of wood around her neck, the symbol that of a hexagon split into six parts. The dark-eyed woman was familiar, and Marin opened her mouth, then closed it as she looked on the woman who’d given her a few words of comfort at the shrine to the Weaver of Magic all those years before.

  “Beautiful, isn’t it?” the woman asked, nodding outward across the strange scene and glancing at Marin in amusement, smiling at her. “The sea of Primal Chaos. You wished to see the source of your magic, did you not, Marin? Look upon it well, for this is it.”

  “I . . . I did, but this is unexpected,” Marin replied slowly, feeling more shaken than she ever had before. “Are . . . are you . . .?”

  “I am the Weaver of Magic, yes, also called the Spellweaver. With the aid of the Maker, Mother, and Destroyer, I created the very weave of magic which you’ve been trying to unlock the secrets of,” the woman replied, smiling still more as she continued. “You’ve done an excellent job for a mortal thus far. I’ve been looking forward to this meeting, Marin. I’ve been expecting you, in fact.”

  Marin found herself at loss for words, staring at the goddess of all magic, and unable to decide what she should do.

  “I think not,” Emonael said flatly, anger surging within her.

  “A pity, I’ll just—” Gavin began, only to be interrupted by a sudden scream and explosion. His flinch and momentary distraction were too good to pass up; Emonael took ruthless advantage of it.

  The man was within reach, so she kicked him sharply in the stomach and tore the dagger from his hand even as the man’s bodyguard began to react. The guard’s roar and swing of the axe was curtailed as words rippled from Andrew’s lips and a bubble-like shield snapped into existence, the axe bouncing off the shield harmlessly.

  “Good, Andrew,” Emonael told her student, kicking Gavin’s feet from beneath him and ruthlessly plunging the dagger into one of his eyes without warning. With her other hand, she made several sharp gestures, an incantation rippling from her lips to create an orb of fire that lanced out into the guard’s chest and sent him flying backward.

  “E-Em
onael? What . . .” Andrew looked shocked, but Emonael didn’t have time to try to soothe his nerves, instead surveying her surroundings.

  The town square had descended into chaos in mere moments, and it was hard to tell what was going on. At least a few villagers and magi from the Association had fallen to blades and spells, and the battle wasn’t going well for the defenders for the most part, not with the surprise which the supposed merchants had possessed. No merchant caravan or bandit group had over two dozen magi, and villagers were running, screaming as the attackers vented their fury.

  Christoff and Damiya were next to one another, Leah cowering behind them as the two cooperated to fight off a trio of enemy magi. Christoff was shielding them as Damiya wove bolts of twisted fire and lightning to lash out into the attackers like a whip, and they didn’t look like they were in danger just yet. Nia was on the ground, bleeding from a head wound, and Emonael blinked on seeing young lord Imtep standing over her, a glowing blade of light in both hands as he protected her from a pair of attackers. She had never expected the arrogant young lord to protect one of her students, but at least he had.

  An immense crash of sound to the north made Emonael flinch and look, only to see a half dozen men on the ground, bleeding from their ears as Uthar sagged in place, panting with obvious effort.

  Despite the successes of her students and a few others, the fight wasn’t going well. In the same amount of time that she’d surveyed the battlefield, two magi had been blasted by enemy firebolts, and a dozen or more apprentices or civilians had been cut down by the ruthless attackers, and at this point those defending were outnumbered at least five to one.

  An immense blast of fire made Emonael flinch, and Christoff, Damiya, and Leah were blown backward by the assault, singed but unhurt as their shield was shattered by the attack. A man stood beyond them, smirking as a swirling circle of fireballs orbited his head. The man’s power was palpable, almost as great as that of Valis, and Emonael cursed under her breath.

  The black-haired elf glared at them arrogantly, laughing. “More skilled than expected, but still not enough. Not without your High Magi, at least.”

  “Emonael, what do we do?” Andrew asked, and Emonael scowled.

  “There are too many attackers! I’ll hold him off, the rest of you get out—” the demon began, only to be interrupted by screams and the crack of thunder.

  A smoking crater in front of the inn had launched a number of attackers back, and Emonael saw Sir Calda Dragonsworn step out with a companion that was garbed almost identically, though the other man had bronzed skin instead, with a woman just behind them. The woman was tall and thin, completely swathed in white silks and a veil that concealed everything but her eyes. She even had gloves, but the tips of her fingers were faintly pointed, like they had extended nails or claws. The woman’s eyes were brilliant blue, like the color of lightning, and they had the vertical pupils of a dragon.

  “The sentence for those who dare attack the High Priestess of the Sanguine Enclave is death!” Sir Calda exclaimed, a massive sword held in one hand as he rushed forward. His companion was guarding the woman, but she raised her hand and Emonael saw lightning flicker in her palm as she looked on the clustered attackers with cold eyes.

  “Strike that. I’ll kill him; you all protect those who’re down, or who can’t protect themselves,” Emonael spat, standing up straight.

  “But . . . but he’s a High Mage!” Christoff protested, helping Leah to her feet.

  “Yes, he is,” Emonael agreed, grinning broadly as she glanced at her friend and added, “I suppose I should also mention that I’ve been quite deliberately holding back for a while. Keep everyone safe.”

  “You arrogant little rat!” the mage spat, looking outraged as he launched a fireball at her. “I’ll not be defeated by a whelp that had no magical training a year ago!”

  Emonael hummed the tones of the water shield she’d used, blocking the blast from passing her and grinning at the mage in turn, her rage igniting fully as she answered. “No training, is it? That’s where you’re wrong, you elderly fool. I told others that I had a bit of training, but I always understated it. See, I was already a High Mage when I came here. And in that time my power has only grown. I don’t fear a single High Mage!”

  The man’s face went slack as Emonael laughed, and for the first time since she’d come to the Association, she pulled on her full power, weaving a dome-like net of blue-white flames around her and her opponent, who was staring at her in disbelief.

  “Impossible! That . . . can’t . . .” he gasped, staring at her.

  “You seem to be proud of your accomplishments with fire magic. Let’s see how good you are at playing with fire,” Emonael purred, amused at the growing fear in his eyes.

  Chapter 34

  “At loss for words, Marin? I suppose that shouldn’t surprise me. This must be a shock, even for you,” the Spellweaver said, looking back out into the sea of clashing elements.

  “I’m just . . . why? Why would this draw me here, to you? Why would you pay such attention to me?” Marin asked, mentally floundering.

  “You aren’t the first to figure out the basics of magic, or to have the suspicions that you used in your research. You’re the first to complete them, though,” the goddess replied patiently, smiling gently. “The others . . . gave up, decided it couldn’t be done in a lifetime, or simply didn’t realize what it was that they were looking at. You were the first to persist all the way through and complete the basics. Not that you got everything right, but it’s close enough. I’m sure that people will eventually correct the mistakes you made, and introduce new ones. It’s the nature of magic.”

  “I suppose you’re right there. But it doesn’t explain why I’m here,” Marin told the goddess, waving around her. “That ritual . . . there’s no reason it should’ve dragged my mind all the way to another plane of existence, to meet you. It strikes me that this must be on purpose, and you’re the only one who could cause such to be done.”

  “Correct. This was all deliberate, Marin. Long, long ago, when the other Primal Gods and I forged this universe from nothing, I made a decision.” The Spellweaver paused, looking at Marin and smiling at her. “Can you feel the power beginning to well up within you, Marin? I think you must.”

  “I . . .” Marin paused, feeling a strange sensation washing over her—a sense of strength and mental clarity—and she frowned, asking, “What is this?”

  The strength washed away her aches and pains, more thoroughly than any healing that she’d ever performed, more than even the spell which had restored her to youth. Energy replaced her flagging reserves after her earlier efforts, energy far beyond that which she ever remembered having possessed. And the clarity . . . as she glanced at the riot of elements around her, she not only saw, but understood their true nature. She understood how the mana came to be, and how it flowed into the world. No longer did she wonder about magic . . . Marin simply knew.

  “The decision I made was simple. When someone finally chose to investigate the true nature of magic, when they used magic to search for the very source of it within themselves, it would bestow upon them the mantle of a god of magic,” the Spellweaver told Marin, smiling gently at her. “Congratulations . . . and just in time, as otherwise you’d die with all the others.”

  “I’d . . . wait, what are you talking about?” Marin exclaimed, and her mind seemed to skip over reality and back to where her body still sat in the middle of the ritual circle. There, it seemed like she could see everything at once.

  Hothar and Valis had paused in their game of cards, and were watching the side effects of Marin’s ritual, wondering aloud what was going on. Larin and Reesa were doing the same, with the former seeming frustrated that he was so far behind, while the woman soothed her upset dog as it whined. Marin’s heart spasmed as she saw the conflict that had broken out in Maple Lake, at the dozens of dead thus far, but pride at Emonael’s actions accompanied her worry. She never would have expected a de
mon to actually care about others, yet she did.

  The most concerning thing she sensed were the eight High Magi approaching her tower. In their wake was an entire detachment of dead soldiers, including Vince, the head of the war magi. The purpose with which they were moving told her what they were after.

  Looking back at the Spellweaver, Marin quickly said, “I’m going to stop them! That many High Magi will kill everyone, even Emonael if she runs into them!”

  “You can’t,” the Spellweaver replied, her voice solemn. “The gods are allowed many freedoms in many ways, but directly interfering in such a way interferes with the ability of mortals to choose their own fates. New to godhood as you might be, I cannot allow you to do so.”

  For a moment, Marin stopped short, staring at the Spellweaver, her mind spinning over everything she now knew. The power and temptation was immense, a lure of knowing everything she’d ever sought after. Emonael had spoken of becoming a goddess of magic in her own right, of how she could protect her . . . and Emonael would probably survive. So for just an instant, Marin hesitated at the temptation. A moment later, she rejected it firmly, her back straightening as she looked at the goddess before her.

  “Well, I never asked to become a goddess, now did I? I never asked for this power, or . . . or immortality,” Marin retorted, anger flooding through her. In the back of her mind, she felt all the laws and rules of magic surging together, all of the things she didn’t know or had made mistakes on becoming clear. The methods of enchanting, everything. And she continued hotly. “I could have extended my life like my first teacher, but I refused it! Emonael offered me a chance to keep my memories after I died and to continue my research, but I refused. I wanted rest, not to be given a responsibility like this! A simple experiment on what the core of my mana looks like isn’t meant to make one a god, and if it means that I have to abandon my students and friends to death, well, I will refuse godhood!”