A Mage's Power (Journey to Chaos) (44 page)

“Have you finished my lunch?”

“Yes, Master Tahart.”

“Good. Mr. Mercenary, I'll get your pay.” He grabbed a
crystal from his desk and pressed a button. His chair rose off the ground and
hovered to a room attached to his office. He returned with a large bag for
Basilard and three smaller ones for the novices. “Remember, not a word.”

Tiza nodded rapidly and pocked her bag. Nolien thanked him
graciously and put his away. Eric, for some reason or another, wasn't feeling
as polite.  

Annala stopped him on his way out. “Eric, please don't tell
Revas and Oito about this. The outfit and everything . . . it's embarrassing.
I'd never hear the end of it.”

“Then why'd you take it in the first place?”

“It's easy and the pay is good.” She clasped her hands and
pouted. “Please, Eric?”

All the way down there was no end to the teasing: Tiza
impersonated Annala's pout while Nolien gestured wrapping string on his finger.
Basilard gave him girl advice. It was all lost on him.
Making her dress like
that . . . and calling him 'master,' and the curtseying . . .AHH!

You would not mind if she were doing those things for
you.
The image filled Eric's mind and he blushed to his toes.
In my day,
this behavior would be called 'jealousy.'

I'm NOT
jealous!

In that case, you are a hypocrite.

 
Eric tried to come up with a retort, failed, and
went back to brooding in silence. He was steadily beginning to dislike orcs.
The
first tried to kill me and mine.
Laharg was never going to hurt them, he
apologized,
and
it was only a test.
The second also tried to kill me.
There's something strange about a creature that disappears after it's defeated.
And the third's a jerk with a maid fetish.

Before he knew it, his feet took him to the guild's entrance
and the peculiar sight awaiting him there: The same pair that had eating
contests in the mess hall and drinking contests in the tavern was now having a
chin-up contest on the door's balcony.

“What is it this time?” Basilard asked, faintly amused.

“Meg said she can do more chin ups than I can!”

“Well I
can
,” Meg said smugly. “Alf's a sore loser.”
She increased her speed.

“No, you
can't
,” Alf said venomously and increased
his speed beyond hers. Eric and Tiza chuckled. Nolien covered his mouth.

“Could one of you fall already? We need to get in.”

The boy and girl paused. As one and without a signal they
did a chin-up, held their position, and raised their feet to their rears.

“Thanks.” Basilard walked under them. Eric and Tiza chuckled
louder and Nolien shook his head with his hand tight over his mouth. Just
before the door shut, the boy said one more thing.

“I bet I can hold this position longer than you can.”

 Mia didn't have any more missions so Basilard led them to
the training hall. They arrived in time to see Raki's latest defeated by Squad
One Lieutenant Aegis. The dual wielder spewed so many foul oaths Tiza took out
a notepad.

“There seem to be a lot of rivalries in the guild,” Eric
though aloud.

“Absolutely!” Basilard said. “Leader Ridley encourages us to
find strong rivals. They inspire us to push our limits. That's why she put Alf
and Meg on the same team.”

“Do
you
have a rival?”

“Sure do!” Basilard said proudly. “Laharg is fun to spar
with but I'll never catch up to him, being human and all. My real rival is
Retina Corison.”

“Daylra's Dear?” Tiza asked him.

“Daylra's Dear?” Eric and Nolien asked her.

“Retina's married to Sathel, my apprentice mentor, so I call
him 'Daylra's Dear'.”

“Yes, that's him.” Basilard said, nostalgic. “We were on the
same team and we dueled every week.” He shook his head. “We haven't since he
went on that mission with Sathel . . . Speaking of which, Eric, I've been
meaning to teach you a certain spell.”

 In the Training Hall, he told Eric it was a spell that no self-respecting
Squad Three Regular would be without. This grabbed Eric's full attention:
regulars got better missions, better pay, and learned higher magic. He could
hardly contain his excitement.

“Since you know how to hide, you should know how to seek. Today,
I will teach you Magic Sight.” . . . And there it went; all his excitement
leaked out a balloon.

The lecture: mana was the basis of all magecraft, but only
in high concentrations could it be seen. This meant spells were invisible
unless they produced visible effects. Magic Sight made all spells visible
because it enabled the user to see the mana fueling them. It was primarily used
to detect runes.

Any given object could be enchanted with a rune for magical
effects. This could turn a helmet into protection against sleep sleeps or that
same helmet into a trap that would cause sleep on any who put it on. All Squad
Three Regulars were required to tell the difference.

He is right. Any mage worth their mana knows how to
perceive it in spells.

“If you say so.,” Eric muttered.

“Good. Magic Sight works like this . . .”

So began a second lecture about the mechanics of Magic
Sight: knowledge of how eyesight worked combined with mana and the willpower to
change how it worked. Once the Q&A was over, Eric tried the spell himself.

“Don't be disappointed if you fail the first time; it's a
difficult spell when you first learn it.”

All spells are difficult when first learned.

Eric didn't exactly fail the first time; he cast a blinding
spell. Tiza took a break from dummy sparring to laugh at him and Nolien had to
stop working to cover a sudden coughing fit. Eric flushed with shame. Basilard
cast a sight spell and consoled him.

“Not bad for a first try.”

“You're just saying that . . .”

“No really. When
I
first tried, I made myself
color
blind. That's a lot harder to reverse. For days I couldn't tell water from
pee.” He made a face. “It was something Retina took advantage of.” Eric smiled
despite his lingering shame. “Ready to try again?”

“With charms deep and snide, my foes may try to hide. With
curses fierce and dark, cut me deeper than The Shark. Reveal to me what's truly
there, allow me to see and stare. Magic Sight!”

His staff flashed and the world changed. A smile blossomed
on his face. A solid brown light coated the Training Hall and within that light
were intricate chains of characters. Similar chains webbed his mentor's
clothes: his tunic, his earring, and, most intricate of all, his scabbard.

“I take you got it right this time. What you see are runes.
They are permanent spell diagrams made for lasting effect. They were interwoven
into the fabric of my clothes and carved into the guild's structure. Unless the
rune is physically broken, the spell remains intact.”

Most interesting of all was Tiza's hair. Basilard's and
Nolien's were dim but Tiza's shined. Curiously, the shine followed the streaks
of dirt and grime. Eric decided it was a magical/biological girl thing, like
higher voice and breasts. It wouldn't be the weirdest thing he'd seen in this
world.

“Eric, are you listening?” Basilard asked. “There are runes
that can only be broken in certain ways. I want you to identify twenty for a
test.”

“Are you gonna tell me when it is?”

“No. You might cram and forget them all within an hour.
We're moving on to Magic Hearing.”

After Eric demonstrated that he could turn both Magic Senses
on and off, Basilard excused him from training so he could study. Eric had
other ideas: lunch for one and selling off his loot for another.

On his way to the mess hall, he ran into Noisop again. He
kept the poison maker at staff's length and his mouth firmly shut. Noisop left
him alone for less wary prey.

After spending three months on Tariatla, its food had
completely lost its zing. As the theory stated, he'd adapted to its mana level.
He still enjoyed the sauces he could put on his burger.
First Objective
accomplished,
he thought as he put his tray away.
Now for Objective
Number Two.

He said goodbye to Mia and left the guild. Alf and Meg were
still hanging from the entrance. Despite groaning and slipping, they taunted
each other.

Down the street from the guild was the bridge leading to the
Orange Town of Sea and Sunset. This was his home; made of the stone and steel
of the bridge itself. The room came with a small shower and sink hooked up to
the river below the floor. In the back was a desk and lamp where he studied
magecraft. Next to the desk was a small fridge with a microwave on top. Two
months ago, they fascinated him: the fridge made from ice elemental stone
called “craggy ice” and the microwave “solid fire,” but now he passed them for
the bags at their side.

The day Eric moved in, he discovered the bags of junk. The
bridge house came with them. Sometimes he looked on a whim and found useful
odds and ends, such as an old listening crystal and flat song stones. Right now,
the only bag that interested him was his travel pack. With the loot in tow, he
traveled to the Yellow Town of Trade and Creativity.

Out of curiosity, and to ease his guilt at playing hooky, he
looked at the stores with his Magic Sight. Whether they were businesses, homes
or both they shared runes in common. These were called “wards” because they
were designed for protection: fire, thieves, evil spirits, etc. They were all
he could see because the other wards were made to counter Magic Sight and Magic
Hearing. Curiosity was his best trait so he decided to test them.

It wasn't the same awe-inspiring experience as new eyes, but
it was still shocking: he heard every conversation in the crowd because he
hadn't set limits. Only after reciting the limiting words could he think
clearly again. Eavesdropping on specific conversations was a fun way to pass
the time to the pawnshop. Then a sound blew into his ear that chilled him to
the bone.

“Wind! Hear me as I plead!” He placed one hand over his
chest and pointed the other at his feet. “Give me the speed I need!”

Two balls of wind engulfed his feet and a third sank into
his chest. He dashed through the commercial district with winged feet and an
expanded lung capacity. Dengel demanded to know where he learned that spell and
the mage replied that he just made it up. To increase his speed he needed to
improve his heart, lung, and leg muscles and to do all three at—

Look out!

Eric jumped with all his might and barely cleared the wall.
He stumbled on the landing and almost zoomed into an apple tree. Swerving to
the right, he skimmed two merchant carts, five pedestrians in a crosswalk and a
turtle taxi that shouted rude things at him. Screams of “Trickster's Choice!”
followed him to his destination. He took the stairs entire flights at a time,
pivoting at the end to jump to the next. He reached the top in a fraction of
the time it took him earlier. The front door was unlocked, but the door to the
office was not.

“I don't have time for this!”

Eric fired mana bolts and the door absorbed them. He
activated his Magic Sight and saw a rune hiding in the middle. He crossed it
out, blew the door open, and his fears were confirmed.

Annala squirmed helplessly on the floor. Her wrists and
ankles pulled against invisible bounds while she frantically back away. She
gasped for breath in a ruffled collar squeezing her neck. The terror in her
eyes drew Eric like a magnet, but Tahart stood in his way.

“You didn't see anything,” the orc insisted. “Turn around
and walk away.”

“Like
abyss
I'll walk away!” Eric pointed his staff. “You
on the other hand, need to move!” He gathered mana at the tip. “Now!”

Tahart smiled crookedly. “You're a mercenary, right?” He
reached into his pocket. “How about some gold for your silence?”

“I may be a mercenary, but you
can't
buy me!”

 Everything went black. He could not see, hear, nor do
anything.
No! Not now!
He struggled to wake up, but something weighed
him down.
Annala needs me!
Bit by bit, he felt it give way ...

“Eric!” Annala's voice echoed in the darkness, full of pain
and hurt. “How
could
you!?” An image of flashed; Laharg crushing Annala
with the power of his spirit. That was the first time he heard her scream like
that. Now another orc was about to do worse.

NO!

Eric opened his eyes and saw the exit. One hand was on the
doorknob and in the other was a moneybag. It was the heaviest he had ever held
and he stared at it in confusion.

“Eric!” Annala cried again, really truly cried. It broke
Eric's heart. “Come back!”

Eric dropped the bag and spun around. Tahart was on top of
her. One meaty claw gripped the dress's hem while the other held her chin. Rage
unlike anything Eric had ever felt erupted within him. He wanted this orc dead!
DEAD!

 The rage was immediately followed by a rush of power. His
hands crossed before him and he roared. A mana sphere the size of a boulder
flew from his hands and blasted Tahart into the wall!

He brushed dust off himself and stood up. “What the abyss,
mercenary!? We had a deal!”

Eric didn't hear him. In his mind, the orc was a monster and
everyone
knows monsters can't talk. His only answer was to pull out the
dagger Culmus bought him.

“I guess you Threan humans have short memory spans after all,”
Tahart grumbled. “Oh well, I'll just have a soft skin for dinner.” He locked
eyes with Eric's and froze.

His eyes widened, his pupils dilated, heart stopped . . . He
was terrified out of his mind, but his body refused to move. If Eric had sense
of himself, he'd know that what he was doing to Tahart was the same thing the
Black Cloak Leader did to Kasile.