A Mage's Power (Journey to Chaos) (10 page)

“Oh, come now, stop teasing them.” Aio made shooing
gestures. “There's nothing wrong with aspiring scholars discussing physics.”
Eric and Annala returned to their normal color. “If they talk about
chemistry,
you can tease all you want.” The blushes returned and the other three laughed.

“Revas, Oito, and . . .Aio . . . do you find the Siduban
Chaos Explosion funny?” their teacher asked, “The Otherworlder is excused, but
I thought you would know better.” Revas and Oito immediately looked guilty; not
“spilled milk” guilty but  “defiled a grave” guilty.

“No, of course not,” Aio said, his voice thick with sorrow. “The
Siduban Chaos Explosion was the greatest tragedy of the modern era. Hundreds
died in the initial explosion and thousands more by the chaotic fallout and
mana mutation. The increase in the monster population pushed the death toll
even higher, all on top on a famine and civil war. By the time . . . “ He swallowed.
“S
tability
was restored, the death toll reached the millions.”

“I'm so sorry, Aio . . .” Eric said, “Is that why you left?”

Aio smiled crookedly. “Yeah.”

In Social Studies, Eric learned that Ataidar was a
theocratic limited-monarchy that stood between the Latlis Sea and the Yacian
Mountains. It shared a border with the Absolute Monarchy of Latrot and
Theocratic Democracy of Mithra to the south, Theocratic Federation of Rlawader
to the north, Principality of Liclis to the west and the Chiefdom of Kyraa to
the east beyond the mountains. Ataidar's relationship with them had been
friendly for decades, but five years ago, it became estranged with Latrot.

Five years ago, the capital of the Dukedom of Stratos
vanished overnight. In its place was a ruin full of monsters and the vapor form
of mana known as “Fog.” The potent mist spread across the countryside until it
encompassed the majority of the dukedom. National rescue teams combed the area
but could only find a handful of survivors. None of them knew what happened.
They could only say a horde of monsters overwhelmed their defenses. Stratos was
the southernmost district between Ataidar and Latrot; King Ataidar sent an
envoy demanding an explanation from the new king.  

Three years earlier, Latrot had been a republic with a
ceremonial monarch, but a civil war triggered by famine elevated the monarchy
to absolute power. During the war, a research facility at Siduban blew up and
created a Chaotic Zone of monsters and Fog that was suspiciously similar to
Stratos. With the country still viewed as unstable by the international
community there were fears that this power had been weaponized. The envoy
returned singing King Latrot's praises. but this only made Ataidar more
suspicious; King Latrot studied ordercraft, the Art of Control.

In the following years, King Ataidar, not wanting bloodshed
over a misunderstanding, stood with the dove faction. Latrot assured Ataidar
that its military had nothing to do with the Stratos Tragedy and offered to
send a regiment into Ataidar to help clean up the mess. He was graciously
turned down.

Eric read over his notes in the hall to make sure he
understood everything . . .
Famine, monster outbreaks, civil war . . .No
wonder Aio left . . .
The bell rang and he dumped all his things into a bag
and rushed inside. His friends were already there and a second question drilled
in Eric's mind.

“Annala . . .uh . . . I was curious . . .um . . .curious . .
.” He avoided looking directly at Annala and scratched the back of his neck. “About—”

She stopped at her desk. “It's my ears, right? And my hair
color.” Eric nodded meekly. “I'm an elf, not a trickster. I am not a
manifestation of Lady Chaos' will, like the tricksters, nor like them am I made
of chaos. I just have dominant genes.”

“Was it . . .mana mutation?”

“Not necessarily . . .” Annala said evasively. “The first
elves descended from the Celestial Realms to bring magecraft to the mortal
world.”

“That's the legend, anyway,” Aio added. This statement made
Annala tug her ear so Eric dropped the subject, but curiosity was his best
trait.

  The elves were a secretive race. There was little in the
school's library, the public library, and even the internet; only records of
wars and one-sided diplomatic missions. Only a handful of humans in history had
ever been to an elfin village and the elves always took precautions to make
sure their guests never learned too much. Eric grimaced at the horrors humans
were put through by elves and elves in turn by humans.
Annala was so
friendly. I never would have guessed there was so much history between our
races . . .

A sunny weekend day saw Eric with his friends on a blanket
under a tree in the city's park. Textbooks sat in one spot and a picnic basket
in another. Annala said the sights and sounds of nature helped her relax, but
it didn't work for all of them.

“Why would you not want to get bitten by a patigo?” Annala
asked Revas.

“Um . . .uh . . .” The cat's claws jumped in and out
anxiously. “ . . .You'd bleed to death?”

 “No, because its granulators possess lubrication that rates
a 10 on the Gradon Scale and the hinges heat its platinum-iron alloy jaws to 15
degrees Qualis.”

Picking up on Revas' blank and slightly afraid stare, Eric
added, “Think of it this way . . .” He felt warm inside as Revas paid him full
attention. “Your arm's gonna melt if a patigo bites it.”

“That's oversimplified,” Annala said.

“Maybe, but it gets the point across . . .. right?” Eric
asked.

“I guess,” The elf relented. “Oito, what are you supposed to
do if you find a xethras?”

“Run.” Oito said simply. Annala stared at Eric in scholarly
annoyance.

“What?” the human protested. “That
is
what you're
supposed to do!”

“Now
that's
an oversimplification.”

“Are you Eric Watley? The Otherworlder?” A deep voice asked.

The four friends turned to see a tall, cloaked figure. This
alone was normal; lots of people wore capes. They were fashion statements. Eric
stood up and said, “Yes, can I help you?”

The figure threw off their cloak to reveal himself as a blue-skinned
orc. He was a towering ten feet tall with arms and legs as thick as tree
trunks. His head and chest looked like boulders. He pulled a large battle-ax
off his back and pointed it at Eric. Its keen edge gleamed in the sunlight.

“Die!”

He lunged and Eric crouched. Oito grabbed him and they all
jumped away. “What do you have againssst our friend?” Oito shouted.
Friend?
. . .I'm his friend?
The orc swung horizontally and a beam dashed towards the teens. Annala stepped
forward, held her palms out and it smashed into a screen of light. Annala
grunted as the beam pushed onwards and shattered her barrier. It slammed into
her and she landed with a thud on the ground.

“Annala!” Revas cried and shook with rage. He turned towards
the orc and his eyes became slits. “Tisotos Blogat!” Claws appeared at his
fingers.

“Revassss no!” Oito called, but Revas was deaf to him. The
mad cat pounced. The orc  hammerfisted his chest and he crashed into the
ground.

 “And then there was one.” Oito took a battle stance. The orc
scoffed and raised his open palm. The lizard demon went flying into a tree.
Eric was still frozen.

“You're almost too pitiful to kill . . .oh well.”

Panicked eyes.
I'm gonna die
. . . Heart beat out
thoughts.
He's gonna kill me!
Ax raised high . . .
But . . .
Blade
slashed down
 . . .I DON'T WANNA TO DIE!
Eric raised his hands.

“STAY AWAY!”

Suddenly a blue aura appeared around Eric and surged out of
his hands. Like a missile, it smashed into the orc's ax and stopped him in his
tracks. It vanished just as quickly and Eric collapsed. The orc checked his
weapon for nicks then looked at the unconscious human. He chuckled. He chuckled
louder and louder until he was outright laughing. Returning his ax to his back,
he said, “I'm done here.” The three looked at each other in confusion. Then he
was gone.

Chapter 4
Proof of Skill

Eric woke up
feeling as though he'd been pushed through a tube of toothpaste. He was still
under the study tree, but the sun was setting. At his side were Annala and
Oito. Revas sat apart from the group, hackles raised. Oito gave him a water
bottle. It didn't have the same spark as the spring water, but it eased his
pain and restored his energy.

“How are you
feeling?” Annala asked.

“Exhausted.” He
downed the water. “This helps.”

“Sssomething like
that takesss a lot of mana.”

Eric paused. “I
did something?”

“Videlicet Mens,”
Annala said. “It means 'clear mind'. When an ensouled life form is in peril,
its sense of self-preservation drives out all other thoughts and desires and
focuses the entire collective power of the life form in question into repelling
the threat. Naturally, this involves amplifying the soul's natural ability to
draw mana from Noitaerc's veins to achieve a state of increased physical and
spiritual ability colloquially known as 'Super Mode.'”

“I don't know how
to do that! What's happening to me?”

Annala steadied
him with a hand on his shoulder. “Nothing. Nothing's wrong, Eric. Your spirit
lashed out instinctively. Think of it as spiritual adrenaline.”

“The Ciatosan
Theory of Mana Adaption?”

Annala nodded. “It
would explain why you collapsed.”

Eric breathed a
sigh of relief. “In that case, I'm fine.”

“Hey! Sssstop
talking in code!”

“The Ciatosan
Theory of Mana Adaption: if a being from a dry world, such as Threa, spent a
necessary and sufficient time in a wet world, such as Tariatla, then its
normative mana levels, in addition to its ability to draw mana from the Sea of
Chaos on par with its spiritual strength, would become equal to the standard of
the rest of the populace of the wet world in question by the constant intake of
additional mana as a result of daily living.”

Oito blinked. “I
was metaphysically thirsty but now I'm not, because I live in a marsh instead
of a plateau.”

All of a sudden,
it struck him. These three stood up to an
orc
for him. They were
injured
for him. He thanked them, cried and thanked again, and cried harder. In the
past, his only friend was a moocher. Oito grabbed Revas and Annala by the arm. “Come
on, everyone. Group hug. Group hug.”

He enveloped
everyone else in a giant hug. Being at its center with everyone holding
everyone else, Eric couldn't remember a time when he felt happier.

A message waiting
at the dorms made his good mood even better: the Unemployment Office called
with a job and his potential employer was waiting for him there. All the way,
he wondered what it would be.
Probably something menial. I look like a
teenager after all; no one would believe I'm actually an adult with a college
degree.
Before he knew it, he arrived at the eerily pink room.

“Ah, Mr. Watley.
Here is the man who wishes to hire you.”

The man in
question held out a hand. “The name's Basilard Bladi. What's yours?”

“Eric Watley.”

Basilard looked
about mid-forties and was two heads taller than Eric was. A large scar crossed
his forehead, partially hidden by red hair. His eyes were the same blood red.
Below his chin, a red cloth covered his jugular vein and a sheet of metal poked
out from beneath his shirt. The sword on his back felt evil somehow; maybe it
was the red light that flashed from the hilt.

“I know,.”
Basilard whispered. “That's why I'm here. Off limits.” The hilt glowed dimly
and fell silent. To Eric he said, “I'm a member of the Dragon's Lair. It's a
mercenary guild.”

“Did your sword
just talk to you?”

“Yes, it's a
magic sword. What do you think about mercenaries?”

“Uh . . .Don't
they do anything for money?”

“I'll have you
know we aren't that heartless. Have you ever heard of a corrupt knight?” Eric
nodded. “Then what's so hard to believe about a decent mercenary?” He shrugged.
“Some of us are nasty, I'll give you that, but on the whole we're a friendly
lot.”

“Not to sound
ungrateful, but why did you choose me? I'm no warrior.”

“First of all, I
wanted to. Second, you were recommended by the captain of Squad Two. Third, the
guild has a habit of picking up strays. Do you want the job or not?”

A mercenary?
Could do I that? Any job for the right price? . . .and then there's that
psychopath . . .Oh well, beggars can't be choosers.
“Yes.”

“Excellent. Your
training begins right now.”

Basilard grabbed
Eric's shirt collar and dragged him outside. “While I am your teacher, you will
address me as 'Daylra'. It is a Dragon's Lair tradition in honor of our
founder's mentor.” He stopped at a public practice yard, aka, a park. It was
cold, dark, and empty.

“First you should
know the structure of our guild. At the top is the guildhead: Ridley Mar, but
you will address her as 'Leader,' 'Dragoness,' or 'Guildhead'. Below her are
the Five Squad Captains. I believe you've already meet Hasina, Captain of Squad
Two.”

He chuckled as
Eric shivered. “Each of them has a lieutenant. Below them are Seniors; they are
veterans and deserve your respect. By the way,
I
am a Squad Five Senior.
Below them are Regulars who are full-fledged members. Below them are Novices
who are still studying their specialty. You, my little Otherworlder, are right
here at the bottom of the barrel: Apprentice. It's my job to teach you the
basics and when I deem you competent, you will officially join the guild.”

“What's first?”
Eric asked.