Watcher's Test

by Sean Oswald

  The older wizard had driven one combat message into the mind of his apprentice again and again. If she had to attack, she was to attack and attack and never let up until the opponent had fallen. Mages don’t tend to have the durability of warriors and rarely are covered in Heavy Armor, and so they need to avoid being struck. Olga had been taught that the best way to do that was to stay single-minded in her focus and to destroy any foe that she set her mind to attack. So she ran past her master’s fallen form with barely a glance. Kill the foe, then rescue the ally. That was what she had been taught, and in this moment of rage, she could think of nothing but the death of the spasming reptilian form in front of her. She burned through her mana, launching spell after spell alternating between casting spells regularly and then using a quickened spell. Each blast, whether it be darts of white light, spinning blades of ice, or gouts of flame all poured out of her with the passion of her vengeful rage.

  Yet, passion alone does not win battles. Battles are won by power more often than anything else. Clever tactics can flip the tables at times, but rarely will a tier 1 human be able to defeat a tier 3 monster. This was no exception. The wyvern had been badly damaged by passing through Hasert’s spell but once the muscle spasming electrical charge dissipated, the apprentice’s spells were not enough to finish it. She had dropped it down to barely more than ten percent of its life and yet it had enough vigor within its body to lunge from the ground up at her. Triggering its multi-attack ability, it crossed the few feet between it and the apprentice who was inflicting all of this pain on it.

  Olga’s story likely would have ended that day upon the claws and talons of a wyvern, but for the fact that the few seconds she had been blasting at the beast had allowed Max the time to shout instructions for the rest of the squad to help with the other wyvern while he rushed forward to assist Hasert and apprentice. One look at the wrecked mess of the prone wizard’s chest had told Max all he needed to know. Without a healer, and a powerful one at that, there was no saving the wizard. Max’s eyes took in the twitching fingers of the wizard indicating that he wasn’t quite dead yet as they also took in the torn robes, the ragged wound in his chest, and the bright red blood staining his lips, likely coughed up when a lung was punctured.

  Gazing up from his dying friend, Max saw the enemy stirring on the ground and realized that the paralyzing effect of the spell must have worn off. The veteran of many battles, Max immediately saw the danger that Olga was in even if she didn’t. He triggered another of his unique class-based movement skills and in a single step, he closed the dozen feet between them and stood between the wyvern and the apprentice. His armor took the brunt of its claws, which scraped shallow furrows into his vambraces and a quickly conjured red shield of fiery energy appeared above his extended left hand to protect against the bite that had been intended for Olga’s throat. The attack defeated, Max started to draw his longsword to counter back when a glob of sizzling green liquid shot over his shoulder to land on the wyvern. As the acid landed on the beast, it immediately began to eat away at the leathery wings. The acid clung thickly to the beast, working into the crevices between scales and causing so much pain that the beast fell convulsing on the ground, shrieking in agony as its last bit of health was literally dissolved away.

  Seeing that the wyvern was dead, both Max and a now sobbing Olga looked back at the now still form of the wizard. Hasert had used the last of his strength to cast one last spell, ending the beast, which had also ended him. Max had known Hasert was resourceful but to have the presence of mind to cast a spell while dying showed him the true depth of skill his friend had possessed.

  Even as a wizard and wyvern, both tier 3, passed from Eloria, the remaining six squad members all either tier 1 or 2 fought a desperate battle against the last of their tormentors. They were focused on not allowing it to escape as they were on killing it. One way or the other, this needed to end. In the end, Ahren and Engel were able to split the duties of tanking the beast but neither of them would have been able to handle it on their own even with armor, shields, and classes orientated toward filling that role. It still wasn’t enough to save Adelmo from dying to the initial attack or the rest of them from assorted cuts and bruises. Fortunately, none of the injuries were serious other than a set of claw wounds into Ahren’s shoulders equally on each side. Their last health potion was used to patch him up. The problem being, they were now without a healer or a potion. The good news was that all of the remaining tier 1s gained enough XP to finish leveling up to tier 2. This was surprisingly good news. It is a little-known secret that not everyone can level up to a new tier. Adventurers and soldiers who can level up are highly sought after for obvious reasons. Less than fifty percent of humans are capable of leveling up into the second tier, and for each tier after that, an ever-decreasing number are able. No human in Albia had made it into the fourth tier yet in the fifty years since the formation of this new nation and certainly none had approached the power of the ancients. Crossing into the second tier meant that Olga and Karl would have a meaningful career and stood a chance at becoming some of the more powerful individuals in Albia. It meant respect and financial security.

  Under any other circumstances, this alone would have been a huge cause for celebration, but with the death of two additional comrades on top of the others who had already died, the remnant of the squad was not able to feel anything other than grief. The rest of the day was spent mourning, burying the last two of their fallen, and grimly looting not only the wyvern’s bodies but also the gear from their friends.

  Around the fire that night, Max welcomed Olga to the squad as their mage now, no longer just the apprentice to the squad’s mage. She would have to wait for a return to the capital and the magical oath which would bind her to the purposes of the Purple and Gold for it to be official but in the minds of each of the team members, it was the invitation by Max which was more important than the oath. After tears were shed and solemn words spoken, Max gifted all of Hasert’s gear to Olga. She wanted to refuse but the truth was that her master had not had any family to pass the items on to, so by tradition they became the property of the squad. If Max wanted her to have those items, none of the rest of the squad was going to fight him on it. She also knew that there was a pragmatic purpose in gifting these items to her. At level 10, she would be a poor substitute for Hasert’s 23 levels but hopefully, the extra gear would bridge the gap a little bit. First and most preciously in her mind, she received his four spell books. Always the most treasured possessions of any mage, these spell books represented not only the spells he knew but also the notes and research he had been conducting into new spells. There was a book for each tier from the first-tier book which she had been allowed to study to the fourth-tier book which only held two spells. Spells which had even been beyond Hasert’s capabilities but that reminded him that there was so much room to grow still. Next, she was gifted his staff, robes, six rings, and a single scroll. The rings were mostly standard HP and mana boosting rings. She already had two mana rings, granting her an additional 80 and 60 mana respectively and the same for health. Hasert’s rings were 80 mana x3, 100 and 80 health rings, and Fire Resistance: 30. She now had the maximum of ten magic rings, which granted her a total of 380 mana and 320 health. The staff and robe, on the other hand, were more unique items.

  The staff was a four-and-a-half-foot long shaft of mountain oak wood lacquered with a bright red paint. Atop the staff was a finely engraved, four taloned dragon’s claw grasping an oval-shaped ruby the size of a man’s thumb.

  Staff of the Evoker.

  Quality: Excellent

  Base Dmg: 8. Attack Speed: 6. Fire Damage: 6. Weight: 2.5.

  Active Effect: Stores 1 evocation spell of up to 3rd tier for instant release.

  Passive Effect: +5 levels in evocation spell when holding staff.

  Robes of the Spell Author.

  Quality: Excellent.

  Armor: 6.

  Passive Effect: +20 levels to research when researching
a spell.

  The final item was a great boon. Magical scrolls were incredibly expensive to make. They required a great deal of time, a caster able to cast spells of at least one tier beyond the tier of the inscribed spell and very costly inks made from combinations of powdered magicyte and rare gems. In this case, the spell was a 5th tier spell known as Teleport. It was capable of transporting the reader of the scroll and up to six other people a full eight hundred miles to any spot which the reader knew intimately. There was a chance of error which would result in ending up anywhere within a 5-mile radius of the designated spot, but even with that, the ability to travel instantaneously such a distance was world-shaking. The spell was impressive, but what made it even more impressive was that anyone with even a single character point put into the related school of magic would be able to use the spell. In this case, the school of magic was Conjuration and Olga most certainly did have more than a single point in it.

  The existence of the scroll raised the question of whether the squad should return back to the capital to regroup and perhaps return to the mission with more forces. As per his usual procedure, the captain allowed his subordinates to speak their mind on critical issues like this. These opinions ranged from Leyna’s, “We should send me ahead to spy and gather intel in the villages while the rest of the squad goes back and rearms,” to Ahren’s, “We should show these b-----s what we are made of.” In the end, Max made the decision that it would be better to continue forward. He reasoned that they could always use the scroll later and that it wouldn’t take them more than three more days to make it the rest of the way to Eris’ Rise now that they didn’t have to worry about attacks from the wyverns.

  Emily’s heart was beating as she walked down the hard-packed road of Eris’ Rise toward the home of the first of the two patients. She kept going through the plan over and over again in her mind, making sure that she was thinking correctly. She thought it would work. It pretty much had to because it was her last-ditch idea, and if not for her healing so far, these men would have already died. She wondered if this was what doctors and nurses had felt like back in the pioneer days. Separated from any resources with lives depending on their knowledge but also on their creativity. Well, now she was gonna find out.

  Talvenicus knocked at the door and was greeted by the injured man’s wife as she looked past him to Emily. There was a look of weary hope on her face. The sort of look that said loudly, “Please do something, I can’t take this anymore.” Stepping forward and taking control of the situation, Emily said, “We are here to help your husband and, Shanelle willing, I hope we have a way to restore him to health.”

  With that, she strode into the house and walked over to the man’s bed. She knew the layout of the small home very well as she had been there numerous times to heal him trying to keep him just a step from death’s door. She looked back and Mira and said, “Please cast your Lesser Regeneration spell on him.”

  Mira did as instructed, and her spell landed, causing 5 health to regenerate every 6 seconds for 66 seconds. It was actually a huge amount of health for the man representing in a little over a minute enough healing to equal over half of his total health. That would be if he was at full health, but with the treant wooden barbs twisting and growing in his body he had less than half of his normal full health. He only had that because of the efforts of Emily and Gertrude. Mira smiled as his sweat-covered forehead shuddered and the pain lines on his face eased. It was actually kind of cool to see the power of a healing spell.

  Even as Mira had cast her spell, Emily cast her chosen spell and Minor Wither settled onto the man beneath her hand. She grimaced as the pain took hold while her spell caused 1 damage per 6 seconds for 2 minutes. The pain caused his muscles to lock up while in the next instant another wave of healing eased all that pain. She watched as the pain and healing washed over her patient in alternating waves. She waited until Mira’s spell was almost over. Then she added her own copy Lesser Regeneration, but with her class perks and higher level in Essence Magic, her version caused 15 healing per 6 seconds for 2 minutes. As soon as her spell took effect, Mira told her that she had gotten a notification that her spell had been overwritten, whatever that meant. At least that answered one question: they apparently couldn’t both cast the same healing spell at the same time on the same target.

  Wonder of wonders, the previously barb infest wounds in her patient’s chest were shrinking. Emily was actually able to pull out the brittle and shriveled remains of the treant’s attack. Before, every effort to cut it out had been completely unsuccessful, but this time it had lost all of its vibrancy as it had withered. As she observed that, the truth of her mom’s plan dawned on Mira. “Oh, I get it. You were counting on the Minor Wither affecting both Sergert and the vine that was attacking him, but because it causes dramatically more damage to plants than it does to humans, you thought that it would allow you to kill the vine while keeping him alive.”

  “See, your mother isn’t so stupid after all.” Emily said it without any smirk, she was just so happy to see that her plan worked. She had been able to save one patient. Now all they had to do was walk across town to be able to save the other patient.

  As the last of the wounds closed, Sergert’s wife fell to knees with her hands on Emily’s leg, hugging it as a toddler might. “Oh, thank you, thank you. Whatever you need, we are forever your faithful servants.”

  Emily didn’t know what to say. She had family members thank her for her help with their loved ones before, but nothing like this. This was like being worshipped. It was so exhilarating to see the difference she could make with her magic. It was an addictive feeling that made her want more of it. She was thrilled that they were going to build a temple here. She would be able to do so much good. In the back of her mind, there was a small voice reminding her that she was only a servant, but basking in this woman’s adoration, she was oblivious to that quiet voice. She could point the woman toward her Goddess, later.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  “More than anything what this tragedy has taught me is that despite loss, despite fear, despite injustice, it is the nature of man to adjust astoundingly quickly to a new normal.” —Eiichiro Takahasi, leader of the Moon Elf contingent in the Great Exile.

  Last night, an impromptu celebration had sprung up in Eris’ Rise, following the healing of the last two loggers. Wanting to commemorate the moment as well as cementing their place in the community, both Dave and Emily had offered to pay for whatever supplies of ale and food the general store or any of the farmers had to share so that there could be a community feast. The former serfs who made up most of the population of the town were not accustomed to much in the way of festivals, at least beyond the three holy days each year. Yet, let it not be said that they didn’t rise to the occasion. More than one man ended up sleeping off a hangover in the town square and many others had entered into agreements with the new resident priestess to begin construction on the temple first thing the next day.

  For their part, the Nelsons also had a good time. While not partaking to the level that would leave them compromised, they still got to have a drink and Emily was thrilled when one of the farmers revealed that they had a bottle of Faeloran wine. She didn’t know what Faelora was, but just the fact that it was wine rather than ale was good enough for her. Jackson and Sara had also had a great time. Since all the other children in the village were typically busy working, for the most part, it was great that everyone had the evening off, and so they got to meet some kids their own age. It was especially good to be allowed out of the mayor’s house and out from under the watchful eye of their parents or whatever surrogate had been left to watch them up to this point. Likely, a measure of the joy that Emily was feeling was the fact that she was letting them wander in the town and play with the other children even if she did insist that they stay near the town square.

  Dave had even had the forethought in the afternoon to have one of the women who did a lot of seamstress work to sew up a ball from ta
nned leather stuffed with tightly wadded bits of cloth. It might not have been a regulation ball, but it was enough for Jackson to become popular teaching all the boys from five to fifteen how to play soccer. He had offered to let the girls play but for the most part, the mothers were aghast at such a suggestion and the long dresses all the girls and women wore, accepting the Nelsons and Aloysia would have made soccer virtually impossible anyway. Emily told her son she was proud of him for trying to include the girls but that this was just one of those things that was different about the way they lived here.

  Of all the Nelsons though, undoubtedly the one who enjoyed the impromptu party the most was Mira. She had been basking in the attention of every unmarried guy in town whether he be fourteen and not yet a man or twice her age. It wasn’t that she had any interest in any of them, even scoffing to her mother that they were all bumpkins. Rather it was that she was a fifteen-year-old girl and even under the best of circumstances, they are a rather insecure lot. She and Aloysia sat on the back of a wagon, which had been used to haul some of the supplies into the town square. It now stood empty but for the two divas ruling over the court of their attentive suitors. At first, Aloysia had been jealous of Mira for taking the spotlight away from her, but eventually the two of them ended up laughing and joking so much and both the young women decided that it was more fun to tease and lead the boys on together.

  As the night wound down, Emily gathered the kids up and led them back to the mayor’s home to sleep. She had to pull Dave away from a discussion about how soon he thought that the villagers could resume logging across the river with the village blacksmith, Conrad. Who knew that her husband would end up standing around drinking ale and talking about hunting? The guy she knew back home would have been too much of a self-proclaimed nerd to spend any significant time participating in or even talking about outdoor activities, and yet, here he was assuming the responsibility for hunting down all the dangerous beasts outside of the town.