ã€ŠThe Worldforge: Warlock Risingã€‹


 Prologue

    The beastkin brushed her hair back one more time over her slightly furry and pointed ears, patting down her clothes so she looked as presentable as possible. It didn¡¯t help very much, considering everything she wore was made out of leaves and bits of interwoven plants. Druids were proponents of crafting everything they used themselves, so they rarely went around in clothing that could be even remotely considered fashionable.

    Any other meeting between druids would not have afforded such fuss, but this meeting was special. She wasn¡¯t meeting with just anyone, this was the Divine Priestess. She had lead cult of nature since time immemorial, worshiping the trees and the land rather than any particular god.

    Or at least that was the official philosophy. The Divine Priestess had been around so long no records or memories ever stated a time before her leadership, and when your cult includes elves, dwarves, dragons, and fae, records and memories go back a long time. Between her timeless unchanging visage, limitless power, and indiscernible species, many druids had turned to worshiping her directly as their patron goddess, despite her disapproval of the act.

    ¡°No use dawdling, Yavin.¡± The beastkin whispered to herself. ¡°She¡¯s the one who called for you, remember.¡± Or at least that was what Yavin believed. She had begun receiving visions and her dreams every night. At first she thought it was just restless sleep, but now she was certain that something was calling her here.

    Yavin continued walking through the narrow path. Massive trees loomed around her, far larger than anything that grew in her homeland. Looking up between the small open clearing along the path, she could see the tops of the trees piercing the clouds in the sky. The druid in her wondered how the trees got water to branches that high.

    At the end of the wooded path came a meadow of unparalleled natural beauty. The arrangements of blossoms and flowers seemed chaotic and random at first glance, but the longer she stared the more she became certain that there was a pattern too complex for her to comprehend.

    Yavin¡¯s anxiety returned. Why would the Divine Priestess call for her? She was a druid from a quiet mountain village. Nobody of importance. Maybe she had misheard the high priestess and she was about to make a fool of herself in front of someone who might actually be one of the primordial gods.

    Just as Yavin¡¯s feet were about to betray her and turn around, a pair of wood sprites materialized from the woods off the path. To one not as versed in bushcraft as Yavin, they would have seemed to appear from nowhere.

    ¡°You are Yavin, of the Berrypaw clan of beastkin, yes?¡± one of the sprites asked.

    ¡°Y-yes. T-that¡¯s¡± Yavin began stuttering in her shyness, but she stopped herself and took a deep breath. ¡°Yes. That¡¯s me.¡± She repeated, firmer.

    ¡°Good, youngling.¡± The other sprite said. ¡°Now pass through the arch of thorns. The Divine Priestess waits for you beyond.¡± Just as they had appeared, the sprites vanished into the forest in an instant.

    Yavin looked up and saw that there was a gap in the meadow she would have sworn wasn¡¯t there before. It was as if the rose bushes had parted to form an arch, revealing a path that lay beyond. Yavin touched a finger to one of the thorns and noticed no matter how hard she pressed against it the thorn would not draw blood. She decided that was proof enough she was welcome here.The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

    Then Yavin saw a figure at the other end of the meadow. It was feminine, she had long hair that was green as the grass at her bare feet and skin that shimmered like the reflection of dawn¡¯s light off a clear mountain stream. When she turned, Yavin met her eyes for just a moment.

    This was the Divine Priestess. The tiniest glimpse into the priestess¡¯s eyes told Yavin a story of countless eons. Her eyes radiated with the life of a million sprouting seeds. That one glimpse revealed a thousand truths to Yavin that were beyond the comprehension of mortal minds. The beauty and harmony of all life resonated within this being, all species singing one song.

    Yavin fell to her knees. If what stood before her was not a goddess then there were no gods. The thousands of lines she had rehearsed in her mind for this moment all evaporated. And then in a heartbeat the feeling was gone. The serenity that had enveloped her in it¡¯s pleasurable warmth vanished, and she was left quietly yearning to feel it again.

    ¡°Please, stand.¡± The Divine Priestess reached out her hand to Yavin to lift her up. Yavin was afraid of sullying such a perfect form by touching it, but she was more afraid of offending the priestess. She took the priestesses hand, noticing how it felt as smooth as a summer breeze and yet as tough as tree bark.

    ¡°Yes¡­ Divine Priestess.¡± Yaven whispered breathlessly, her vision still unfocused from her recent experience.

    ¡°Please, that is a title others use to venerate me, but I desire no such worship. I am Gayia, and that is what you should call me, Yavin of the Berrypaw clan.¡± Hearing her name come off this beings lips brought a child-like glee to Yavin¡¯s flustered mind.

    ¡°I had a vision¡­¡± Yavin began.

    ¡°I know.¡± The priestess hushed. ¡°I have a favor to ask of you.¡±

    ¡°Anything.¡± Yavin replied with certainty. ¡°I¡¯ll do it.¡±

    ¡°You haven¡¯t even heard what it is yet, young one. Let me tell you a bit about myself. Long ago when I was but I child I had someone who I held dear. When I was lost and alone he was mentor, guide, brother, and lover. He helped me like no other being has before or since, save the Creator. And now the time has come for me to repay the favor.¡± The priestess opened her hand, and in it was a gray stone. It was shaped like a disk, but it¡¯s edges were shattered and broken. ¡°The first piece of many. It is time to rebuild what was shattered.¡±

    ¡°What would you have me do, Gayia?¡± Yavin asked.

    ¡°You have heard of the city of Orlem?¡± Yavin nodded in reply. ¡°I would have you go there and seek someone out and give him this stone. A boy, not yet a man. Humble now, but with vast potential in the future.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s all? How will I know him when I see him?¡± Yavin asked

    The priestess smiled and cupped Yavin¡¯s hands. Between them she gently placed the gray stone. ¡°I will guide your hand.¡±

    Yavin held up the gray stone to the light. ¡°I have to ask, why me?¡±

    ¡°Of all those who heed nature''s call, you are the most suited to this task. But I warn you not to underestimate the journey before you. It will be longer and harder than you think.¡±

    ¡°I am prepared for the challenge.¡± Yavin replied resolutely, holding the stone in her closed fist.

    The priestess wrapped her hands around Yavin¡¯s closed fist. ¡°Keep it safe. A spirit dwells within this stone. The bonds that hold it tight will come loose with time. You must deliver it before then.¡±

    Yavin nodded, gazing at the gray stone in her hand. When she looked up, the Divine Priestess was nowhere to be seen.

 The Gray Stone 0

    Mar tapped his quill along the side of an inkwell, flicking stray droplets of ink back into the reservoir. It was a practiced and familiar motion that his hand did without thinking. There were few people outside of the scribes guild who had penned as many words as Mar had, especially at the young age of seventeen.

    To the eyes the young scholar was an altogether unimpressive specimen. Below average height, dirty blond hair, and pale skin from countless hours in the library rather than under the sun. He had the thin wiry build of someone who ate good food but not nearly enough of it and his eyes sported perpetual bags under them from reading into the wee hours of the morning rather than sleeping.

    His youth, however, belied his experience. He¡¯d worked as a bookkeeper in the library of Orlem since the age of twelve, ever since his rather embarrassing rejection from Orlem¡¯s School of Magic, whose imposing gray walls taunted him daily as he passed through them when walking to and from the library.

    While the library of Orlem contained a great many books, the vast majority of visitors were mages. Particularly young student mages from the school. At first Mar had avoided working the front desk, afraid of seeing students from the class he was originally in before the masters decided he had no talent for magic, but he grew used to their presence in time as word began to spread and the answers to constant questions of what happened to him became common knowledge.

    At the moment Mar was perusing the pages of an old arcanists textbook that was over two hundred years old, jotting down notes as he scanned the dry pages. One of the masters from the school of Magic had hired him to compile a new textbook for their class from a long list of excerpts he¡¯d collected.

    The work was a bit dull, but Mar took an interest in the field, even though the magical aspects of the profession would forever be beyond his grasp. He wasn¡¯t reading strictly for pleasure though. His bookkeeper''s salary left something to be desired. Though the pay was more than enough to comfortably support most single young person''s, Mar had the additional expense of paying his debt to the orphanage that had raised him until he finally was able to move out two years ago to a cheaper area of the city. His childhood care had been a bit extravagant on the assumption that he would grow into a talented mage. Without the skills he was supposed to have at this point in his life his monetary situation left something to be desired.

    But between odd jobs like the one he was currently working on, minimizing expenses by moving into a cheaper area of the city, and eating scraps from the dining commons to save on food, and his tutoring sessions for the mage students, he was slowly paying off his debt. If things continued as planned by the time he hit thirty he would be a free man, able to do as he pleased.

    Speaking of tutoring, he was expecting one of his students any moment now. Mar glanced up at the towering clock located near the front desk. When they had first installed the thing Mar was certain the constant ticking and swinging of that pendulum was going to drive him mad, but several years and a bit of oiling and it had become rather soothing background noise. Reading the time from the arm-long hands, Mar realized that his student was late yet again. He made a mental note to include it in the report to her parents.

    His hand had been moving while his thoughts were elsewhere and Mar was surprised to find he had run out of paper. He blew the last page he had written until it was dry so the ink wouldn¡¯t smudge and laid it in a stack with the other pages on the side of his desk. Unfortunately he¡¯d been forbidden from using the libraries blank paper on anything other than library projects, so he would need to procure a new quire. He¡¯d have Grob make more paper for him, then he would be able to finish up this little project for Master Warric so he could get paid.

    Now that he had finished up all the work he could do for the moment, Mar decided to prop open a book to read for pleasure. He¡¯d spotted a rather interesting one yesterday morning while shelving check-outs in the fertilizer and agriculture section. All the way on the top shelf a book had been misfiled, likely by those new bookkeepers the library took on, which was the only reason Mar noticed it. He¡¯d read several other books in the library that referenced to the obscure book, and from what they had said the book contained a fascinating treatise on why magic should not be so rigidly defined in terms of the four fundamental elements, water, earth, wind, and fire. The author dogmatically defended the idea of magics beyond the common four, and rejected the classical elements to a degree most mages would find downright heretical!

    ¡°Watch the front desk for me, Roasie. I¡¯m going to grab a book.¡±

    Roasie let out a bored sigh. She was lying on the top of her desk, trying to nap. Roasie wasn¡¯t one of the librarians or bookkeepers. She was a student from the magic school had been caught with contraband, and so was serving out her punishment by working under Mar at the library. Needless to say, she wasn¡¯t very enthusiastic about her duties. But at least she listened to Mar¡¯s instructions, rather than sneering at the notion of a mundane ordering her around.

    The shelf where the book had been misfiled was against the wall back and to the left of the front desk. The shelves by the wall were seven times taller than Mar was tall, but living in a city as thoroughly infused with magic as Orlem meant that magical assistance was readily available. Mar stepped onto the plain tile set into the ground by the edge of the shelf. He tapped a glass panel and the enchantment in the stone activated, levitating off the ground. Mar signaled the contraction to move up until he reached the top row of books, then used the handles built into the shelves to guide the floating platform over to the column he was looking for.

    ¡°Kronell¡¯s Critique of Magic, there you are.¡± Mar mumbled to himself as he spotted the book he was looking for. Now that he got a closer look at it he noticed it wasn¡¯t just misfiled, but rather stacked quite precariously with several others atop it in a column going up to the ceiling. Mar grumbled to himself. Honestly, what were these new bookkeepers thinking?

    Mar plucked the first book from the column and was immediately hit in the face by a spray of water that nearly knocked him off the floating platform. That would have been unfortunate. Many an inexperienced bookkeeper had broken bones after making an unfortunate slip off the platform.

    Mar grabbed all the books off the current shelf and dumped them onto the platform with him, both to save to books and to give him a clear view of the problem. There was a hole in the ceiling from which the water was spilling through. It must be coming from the aqueducts that ran above the building. One of them must have sprung a leak. He¡¯d have to seal it quickly. Many of these books were over a hundred years old and even a little water damage could ruin the bindings beyond repair.

    What manner of idiot had thought it was a good idea to plug this disastrous leak with a stack of books and forget about it? Mar chose to blame the new bookkeepers, though it was equally likely that the culprit had died or retired decades ago.

    There was some baked limestone powder in the other room. He could make some plaster but first he would need to find something stop the torrent of water that was spilling out of the hole. First Mar tried replacing the book, but the sudden release of pressure had expanded the break and that was no longer sufficient to seal it. Mar stripped off his tunic which was already soaking wet. He wrung it in his hands and twisted it into a tight cylinder slightly bigger than the hole in the ceiling. With a shove he jammed it inside.

    Mar brought the floating platform to the ground in a hurry. Mar sprinted around the corner to the backroom, where he knew he¡¯d find Grob sleeping.

    Sure enough, there was Grob lying on the floor, bundled in nest of scrap string and paper. It likely wasn¡¯t a comfortable bed by human standards, but as a goblin it was far better than what Grob was accustomed to in the sewers.

    Mar gave him a gentle nudge with his foot. He made sure it was a soft nudge, rather than the harsh kick he would have received from anyone else.

    Even though the tap was light, the little goblin leapt to its feet in alarm.

    ¡°Oh, is you, chief.¡± The goblin sighed in relief.

    ¡°Get up Grob, I need your help! There¡¯s a leak. Mix up a batch of the the gray paste like I showed you!¡±

    Fortunately the little green guy needed no further prompting. He ran off to fetch a bucket, hopefully he would get the recipe for Mar¡¯s special plaster right. Grob was very intelligent for a goblin, but he was still a goblin.A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

    Mar tore through the supply closet, pulling out two mops and bucket. He¡¯d need those later no doubt. He was certain there were some¡ª Aha! Large cork stoppers, usually used to seal ink bottles. These would plug the whole better than a rolled up shirt. Hopefully they would seal well enough for the plaster to set. The faculty would no doubt bring in an earth mage to finalize any repairs, but they couldn¡¯t afford to simply wait. Every drop of water that fell could destroy another book.

    Mar rushed over to the floating platform, only to find it sitting lifelessly in the center of a slowly expanding puddle. Mar cursed. He wasn¡¯t privy to the higher mysteries of magic but even a mundane like him knew that introducing elemental water to a delicate earth and air based enchantment could only spell disaster.

    Mar tapped the control device for the platform, trying to raise it off the ground. It was completely unresponsive. Luckily the library wasn¡¯t totally dependent on the fickle creations of mages. They still had the ladders.

    Mar pulled one such ladder out of storage from where it was being kept off too the far side of the shelf. He was halfway in position with the ladder and about to climb up it when he realized it wasn¡¯t tall enough to reach the top shelf. Normally the first third of the ladders length came from the wheeled platform, on top of which a second ladder could be unfolded to reach higher shelves. In the event that the bookkeepers needed to reach the highest shelves, a third ladder could be attached to the top of the secondary ladder, but in this case the bracket that allowed the final third of the latter to be extend was broken. Everyone used the floating platforms, so it was no wonder the break was never repaired. No matter, this would just take a little creativity!

    Mar reached ran back to the supply closet and quickly cut a length of twine from the roles available for making new book bindings. Then he ripped the pole off the mop, binding it to one of its kindred to make a pole nearly twice as long as the original mop¡¯s handle. He skewered the piece of cork stopper on the bit of metal where the mop head was usually attached and hefted the over-sized pole like a spear, resting against his chest and shoulder. It was a bit of a balancing act to ascend the ladder with only one free hand, especially carrying such an unwieldy tool, but Mar had practice lugging books to the top shelves.

    Near the top step of the second third of ladder, Mar pointed his impromptu lance at the gushing gap in the ceiling and thrusted, plunging his spear¡¯s head into the open hole. Once lodged in position, Mar twisted the shaft in his hand to dislodge the cork at the top and leave it safely plugged in the hole. His shirt would be stuck in there, but such losses were acceptable if it meant a quick and rapid fix.

    Mar spotted Grob stumbling in with as large a bucket of plaster as a goblin his size could manage. Mar quickly descended the steps to grab it. He commandeered a bit of cloth and tied it to the end of his long stick. He then dipped the end of the stick in the pail of grayish plaster that the goblin presented to him.

    Ordinary plaster wouldn¡¯t work particularly well as a sealant, but Mar¡¯s recipe included some unusual ingredients, namely a thick and gooey tree sap, that made the concoction harden much quicker than normal. It also was springy and expended slightly when dry. Mar had developed the recipe during a period of intense interest in non-magical alchemy, hoping to create a simple yet effective sealant. He¡¯d had the delusion of selling the formula to a merchant for a year¡¯s salary, but none that he talked to had seen the concoction as something worth more than a few silver denarii.

    After putting down a few coats of his concoction, Mar decided to switch off with Grob while he went to dry off and find a new shirt. Although Mar¡¯s plaster compound was stronger than the traditional variety, it had to be mixed thinner and put down in several layers. After laying down the sixth such layer Mar decided that although a few more could be added for security, the situation was safe enough that the goblin could take over.

    Grob, being smaller than Mar, had more trouble wielding the large pole then Mar did, and as a result some of the plaster ended up a bit off target. Mar wasn¡¯t particularly concerned. The elaborate frescoes that once decorated the library¡¯s ceiling had long since faded into unrecognizability. A little splotch of gray here and there wouldn¡¯t be noticed.

    Mar glanced up at his handiwork and brushed the water from his face. It was a shame he¡¯d lost his tunic, but the books were saved, so it counted as a job well done. He mentally clapped himself on the back and started thinking of possible rewards for Grob. The goblin did love candy. He was about to ask the goblin for suggestions when a shrill and piercing voice rang out through the otherwise quiet halls of the library.

    ¡°What in the abyss is going on here!¡± came the outraged demands of a bald headed man. While he was only slightly taller than Mar in height the older assistant-head librarian was nearly triple Mar¡¯s weight, and it lended a warbling cadence to his voice. Mar was slightly startled by the voice, but Grob was positively petrified. The fact that Mr. Thoswallow was one of the individuals who made certain to give the goblin a firm kick whenever he saw him didn¡¯t help in quelling the goblin¡¯s sudden fright.

    Grob yelped in fright, diving off the ladder while dropping the long pointy pole, which fell point-first into the ground at Mr. Thoswallow¡¯s feet, who yelped and leapt back in surprise.

    Mar could either grab the falling stick or the falling goblin. He didn¡¯t hesitate to leap forward and catch Grob, who otherwise would have suffered a nasty fall.

    The makeshift javelin hit the ground with a thud. It stood propped up at a right angle before gravity made itself known and brought the oblong object toppling to the ground. A deep gouge was left in the otherwise polished and unblemished stone at Mr. Thoswallow¡¯s feet. Water began to seep out of it in a growing puddle, though unlike the clean, clear water from the ceiling, this water was a muddy brownish color.

    Huh. It seemed the library was unfortunately sandwiched between the schools aqueducts and sewers.

    ¡°Marus Orphan! I demand to know what is going on!¡± Mr. Thoswallow shouted, growing red in the face. Mar wasn¡¯t sure what peeved him more, the fact that Thoswallow had used ¡®orphan¡¯ in place of his last name, or that a librarian was shouting in the library.

    Mar bit his tongue. He still needed this job. ¡°Just plugging a small leak sir. It¡¯s taken care of.¡±

    Mr. Thoswallow gestured at his boots which were rapidly being soaked by the brown liquid at his feet. ¡°I told you to get rid of that bloody goblin. I knew it would be the ruin of this place the moment I first saw it, and I am now vindicated! Wait until the head-librarian hears of this debacle!¡±

    Mar could only bite his tongue so hard. Before he could stop himself he was already speaking. ¡°In all fairness Mr. Thoswallow, Grob never would have slipped if you hadn¡¯t started shouting in the library. This is supposed to be a quite place, you know.¡±

    Mr. Thoswallow¡¯s face grew beat red with anger at the implied insubordination, though technically Mar had been working at the library as long as him. ¡°No, no. You will not save your little pet and yourself with that silver tongue of yours! When the head-librarian hears of this either that goblin will be gone or you will be! Just be gratefully I won¡¯t be demanding you pay for damages!¡±

    ¡°Mr. Thoswallow, I don¡¯t want to make an enemy of you. But know that I have as much a voice in the head-librarian¡¯s ear as you do, and once she hears my side of the story¡ª¡±

    ¡°The ONLY thing Mistress Omela will hear is you let your filthy creature run wild through our sacred halls, destroying priceless artifacts of history and sullying the sanctity of these books with it¡¯s presence. Need I bring up the fact that you completely and irresponsibly ignored proper procedure for when something like this happens in the library?¡±

    Mar rolled his eyes. ¡°You mean the procedure that says we should ring the bell and wait for a mage while the library burns around us? I don¡¯t know about you Mr. Thoswallow, but I prefer to be a bit more proactive.¡±

    Mr. Thoswallow got right up in Mar¡¯s face. His bulk was intimidating so close. He jabbed a stubby finger at Mar¡¯s chest. ¡°I will see you throw¡ª¡±

    ¡°Somebody called for a mage?¡± interrupted a young and feminine voice.

    Mar was as surprised as Mr. Thoswallow, but he recognized the voice and was able to play along.

    ¡°Ah, yes your ladyship, thank you for your timely arrival.¡± Mar bowed to the fifteen year old girl who had just arrived.

    ¡°Worry not citizen. As a mage such things are my duty.¡± The girl replied with grace and decor.

    Mr. Thoswallow was forced to follow suite. ¡°Yes, thank you, your ladyship. I was not aware that any of your status were informed of our dilemma.¡±

    ¡°How could I not have? I¡¯m quite certain half the campus could hear your bellowing. Do try to be quite in the future, this is a library after all.¡±

    Mr. Thoswallow shuffled his feet in embarrassment as he was scolded by a girl not even a third his age. ¡°I will endeavor to improve in the future, lady.¡± Mr. Thoswallow turned to excuse himself. It was considered rude to leave a mages presence without being dismissed, but the girl didn¡¯t make an issue of it.

    As soon as Mr. Thoswallow left, the girls casual condescending attitude vanished.

    ¡°I¡¯ll never get used to being able to do that.¡± She whispered to Mar with a grin.

    ¡°Thanks for stepping in, Livy.¡± Mar said.

    ¡°Oh, it¡¯s the least I could do after showing up half an hour late to your tutoring session. I¡¯m really sorry. Don¡¯t tell my mother and we¡¯ll call it even for my help with that goon over there.¡±

    Mar nodded. ¡°Deal. Just give me a minute to seal this hole in the floor before the whole place starts stinking of sewage.¡±

    Livy waved her hand in dismissal. ¡°I¡¯ve got it.¡± She gestured towards the ground and the floor smoothed over into unblemished stone once again. Livy. looked up at the ceiling and repeated the process. It was illogical, but Mar felt a twinge of sadness as his hard work was washed away so easily. Mar¡¯s plaster seal popped out, along with the cork and his shirt, which she tossed to Mar.

    ¡°Sorry I can¡¯t dry it. I had the spells for repairing stone already mounted in my aura, but drying off your shirt would take some concentration.¡±

    Mar waved her off. ¡°You¡¯ve already done more than enough. It will dry in time. Let¡¯s sit down and begin your studies. I do bill by the hour after all.¡±

 The Gray Stone 1

    Mar gently closed the ancient tome he had just been reading aloud from. Livy had stopped paying attention a minute in. Even now she was looking right at Mar, but seemed to be staring through him, eyes unfocused. She had a dopey grin on her face and was starting to drool. Daydreaming about something, no doubt. Mar sighed. This was a constant problem with Livy, and most mages in general. They didn¡¯t see the value in their classes that didn¡¯t seem to have any practical application to magic, and so they didn¡¯t pay attention, even during his one-on-one study sessions.

    Mar opened the book back up, then slammed it shut. Livy jumped in her seat, shaken out of her stupor. She quickly wiped a sleeve across her face.

    ¡°Now then Livy, since I know you were riveted to the excerpt I just read, it¡¯s time for a pop quiz.¡± Livy groaned and blushed at Mar¡¯s comment and knowing smirk.

    ¡°Now then, can you tell me what the story was about?¡± Mar probed.

    ¡°It was some sort of creation mythology.¡± Livy replied uncertainly.

    ¡°Yes. And?¡±

    ¡°Uhh, there was a guy named something Marvar¡­¡±

    ¡°Magni Marvar.¡±

    ¡°He did some stuff and made some things and then boom. Here we are!¡± Livy looked up at Mar pitifully, in the hope that he would accept that as an answer and they could finally move on from this topic.

    Maybe it was the fact that he was still soaking wet, but Mar wasn¡¯t feeling merciful today. ¡°Take the book home with you Livy. Reread the passage and be ready for me to quiz you on it at the beginning of our next tutoring session.¡±

    Livy grumbled something under her breath. ¡°Itsyourfaultfortryingtoteachmewhilesoakingwetandshirtless¡­¡±

    ¡°What was that?¡± Mar asked. The words were too fast and soft to catch.

    Livy covered her head with her arms and sank onto the desk, hiding her blushing face. ¡°Sorry Mar, it¡¯s just that this stuff is so¡­ useless! How is outdated theological dogma supposed to help me learn magic!¡±

    Mar sighed knowingly. That was the same question he got every time he tutored one of the mage students. Not being a mage himself, he couldn¡¯t tutor students in any of their magic courses, so he was stuck teaching what was usually known as the ¡®useless¡¯ classes. The history of Orlem and the League, the lives of famous mages, theoretical theology, and all the other classes that mages were forced to take and didn¡¯t really apply themselves in.

    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t know what¡¯s useful and what¡¯s not, not being a mage.¡± The words sounded slightly bitter to Mar¡¯s ears, even after all these years. ¡°But your mother hired me to help you pass your History of Magic exam, and I know from experience that this will be on it. You do want to be able to move on to next year, don¡¯t you?¡±

    ¡°Yeah¡­ I just wish I didn¡¯t have to study this junk.¡± Livy waved her hand.

    Mar pursed his lips, disappointed rather than angry. He rather liked the dusty old history books. But he could understand Livy¡¯s perspective. Being a history student had been his second choice after all. Without talent, imagining the great mages of the past was as close as he could get to working spells himself. Why would Livy want to imagine being a mage when she was one herself?

    ¡°Alright then.¡± Mar said while standing up. ¡°That concludes our lesson for the day. Let¡¯s leave before the Mr. Thoswallow works up the nerve to show his face again.¡±

    As Livy stood up, Mar was reminded of the fact that she was only two years his junior. Many parents would be anxious about leaving their daughter out late at night with a commoner orphan boy who lived in directly adjacent to the slums, but even a first order mage like Livy had nothing to fear from an unarmed and magic-less bookworm. Besides that, many years had passed since the days when daughters were valued only for their virginity. Especially if they were mages.

    Mar escorted Livy up the stairs, chatting with her about how she was doing in her other classes. She seemed to be having particular trouble with runic theory.

    ¡°You know, I might be able to help you out in that class as well.¡± Mar said.

    Livy looked at him quizzically. ¡°But don¡¯t you need mana to make a functional runic lay-line pattern? And you¡¯re just a¡­ well¡­¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s true I can¡¯t make a runic pattern myself, but anyone can use one that has already been produced by a mage, so long as it still has power. While I might not be able to build one myself, I think I have a fairly solid understanding of the theory behind it.¡±

    Livy still didn¡¯t believe him. ¡°But you¡¯re not a mage! How could you know what you''re saying is right?¡±

    Mar nodded. ¡°Yes, you have a point there, but how do you know anything in the book you just read is real? How do you know the things you read in your magic texts aren¡¯t just made up? You have to take some things on faith otherwise you¡¯d need to witness every experiment that¡¯s ever been done in the fields of magic.¡±

    ¡°So, you¡¯re saying you¡¯re like a textbook?¡±

    ¡°Exactly. I can¡¯t perform any magic on my own, but I can explain how you should be able to.¡±

    Livy still didn¡¯t believe him. ¡°Tell me then, how do you cast an invocation spell?¡±

    ¡°Oh! So now the student is testing the teacher!¡± Mar grinned.

    ¡°Casting an invocation spell is different from creating a regular spell-weave, which is done by hand by the mage when they want to make magic happen. An invocation spell requires a template for the spell to already be made and imprinted on your aura. Because of the length of time it takes for a mage to weave a spell versus trigger an invocation spell, most mages rely exclusively on invocation magic for combat.

    ¡°That¡¯s the difference between invocation magic and regular magic, but how do you actually go about setting up an invocation spell?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve never had the opportunity to run through the process myself, but from what I have read I know that the aura is key to invocation magic. It¡¯s like a¡­¡± Mar struggled to find an analogy ¡°A pig''s bladder that you can poke holes in.¡±

    Livy giggled at the silly comparison. ¡°I¡¯m sure most mages enjoy being compared to a pig¡¯s bladder.¡±

    ¡°Oh, but this is a very powerful pig¡¯s bladder. With proper practice and training, spellform templates can be crafted into the aura itself, allowing mana to escape through them and be shaped as it leaves. Therefore, mages must spend time equipping an invocation spell before they cast it.¡± Mar stopped to breath for a moment as he explained basic spell theory at a rapid-fire pace.

    Before he could continue, Livy interrupted him.¡±Alright, enough, I believe you! I don¡¯t want to go through Introduction to Spell Theory all over again!¡±

    Livy laughed, and Mar joined her. Then it was broken when a chortling third laugh rang out in sarcastic tones from a dozen paces away.

    ¡°Hahaha! So, the orphan book boy thinks he knows a little magic! Explains why you think you can punch out of your league.¡± A nasty sounding voice mocked. He had three friends with him, and they broke into sneering laughs at their leader¡¯s words.

    ¡°Darrik.¡± Mar muttered. ¡°You should run home, Livy.¡± Livy didn¡¯t move. ¡°Listen Darrik. I don¡¯t know how I offended you. I¡¯ve been friends with Verona from our days at the orphanage together. Nothing more.¡±

    ¡°Ha! Don¡¯t make me laugh, mundane! You¡¯ve been spending time with my fianc¨¦! Bad enough she¡¯s got elf-blood in her, I don¡¯t want people think she¡¯s unfaithful too! I want you gone, out of her life, you hear me! She¡¯s engaged to me, and a prospective member of the Pyrastern family now! I never want to see you again.¡±

    ¡°That feeling is mutual Darrik. I plan to stay as far away from you as often as possible. Though I¡¯m going to offer you a word of advice. Don¡¯t talk like that in front of Verona.¡±

    Livy was glaring at Darrik with a heavy frown of disapproval, but she didn¡¯t say anything. Any other idiot of Darrik¡¯s caliber would have been shut up long ago, but nobody wanted to cross the Pyrastern family.

    Darrik noticed the look. ¡°Oh! Think you can threaten me, do you?¡± Darrik grinned maliciously.

    Suddenly Mar felt his back get hot, as if his clothes were on fire. Then he saw the flames and noticed the seat of his pants was burning.

    Luckily, his clothes were still damp enough to slow the fire''s spread, and Mar was able to pat the flames out without hopping around like an idiot with his pants on fire.

    ¡°Hey! It¡¯s against the school rules to use magic against mundanes!¡± Livy shouted angrily.

    ¡°What! But he threatened me! It was in self-defense!¡± Darrik insisted. ¡°You all saw?¡± he turned to his cronies behind him. They nodded gravely.

    ¡°D-don¡¯t give me that crap. I saw what happened.¡± Livy replied angrily, but not as certainly as before.

    ¡°Oh, and what proof does a merchant¡¯s daughter have that will stand against the scions of five young mages from reputed families that have been making mages since the founding of Orlem?¡± Darrik sneered. ¡°Get out of here first-generation brat. And learn when your betters are speaking, little first-order, before you make a fool of yourself.¡±

    Livy looked at Mar, a sad expression in her eyes. She glared at Darrik. ¡°I¡¯m going to get a master!¡±

    Darrik shooed her off with an I-don¡¯t-care expression. Once she was out of sight his expression deteriorated into one of pure malice.

    ¡°Alright then. I think we have about five minutes to give Mar here.¡±

    One of the other boys looked uncertain. ¡°Hey Darrik, you said we were just going to give him a warning. If that girl does come back with a teacher it could put us on probation.¡±

    ¡°Your family would be on the streets if it wasn¡¯t for mine, Roy.¡± Darrik hissed. ¡°Remember that next time you question me.¡±

    Roy gulped, then hesitantly stepped towards Mar and cracked his knuckles. ¡°Right then. Let¡¯s do this thing.¡±

    Mar heard them talking, and there was no way in the abyss he was about to stick around for something these mages were actively describing as ¡®the worst beating of his life¡¯. He¡¯d gotten into his share of smack-downs, but being on the receiving end of a magically empowered beating was not on his to-do list. Why did Darrik hate him so much anyway?

    Mar was dashing away at top speed, and the mages step into motion to follow him. This was good, the mages probably used the floating paths to get everywhere, rather than walking. Mar might spend most of his days with his face in a book, but living on the other end of the city required quite a bit of walking, floating paths or not.

    ¡°Trip him Roy!¡± one of the mages shouted.

    The cobblestone path Mar was running along shook slightly. Several of the stones turned on end, jutting out of the ground like pillars a hands breadth tall. They were hard to spot now that the sun had set and Mar nearly fell over. He was forced to stop running and carefully watch where he was going. Their earth mage was smoothing the path in front of them, and the mages were gaining on Mar.

    He had to get off the road. Mar saw an unpaved opening between buildings and quickly leapt between them. If he could get back to the center of campus he¡¯d be safe. The Pyrasterns were counted among the three most powerful families in Orlem, but there were still limits to what Darrik could do in the public eye.

    Just as Mar was beginning to think he had lost them, a blast of wind knocked Mar off his feet and sent him sprawling on the ground. His head slammed into a few loose rocks and Mar saw stars floating across his vision.

    ¡°Nice work Ayron!¡± one of the mages said between heavy breaths.

    Mar didn¡¯t lie in wait for them though, he rolled over his hand clutching a fist-full of dirt and pebbles from the rock-laden ground under him. As he rolled, he threw the scattering of dirt and pebbles right at the mage¡¯s faces. Hopefully a bit of dirt in their eyes would be enough for them to decide this wasn¡¯t worth the trouble.Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.

    ¡°Oh no you don¡¯t!¡± Darrik screeched angrily while spitting out chunks of dirt.

    ¡°Fire ring!¡± Darrik hissed the trigger word to an invocation. Mana rushed out of his aura far faster than with even the simplest of spell-weaves.

    Instantly fire leapt up in a wall around Mar. He turned around, but the flames enveloped him completely. Even if he hadn¡¯t just heard Darrik cast the spell Mar would have known this fire was magically fueled. The flames reached just past his head, and were an unnatural deep-red color.

    What was odd though was that the flames didn¡¯t feel particularly hot. Mar tested the flames by bringing a hand close to them. When he didn¡¯t feel any heat he stuck a finger into the flame.

    Instantly if felt as though all the blood was drained from his arm. Everything past the wrist felt completely numb, and he couldn¡¯t move his fingers no matter how hard he tried. It was as if someone had removed all the blood from his hand. Mar rubbed it with his good hand hoping to bring the feeling back.

    Darrik saw the look on Mar¡¯s face and laughed. ¡°What¡¯s the matter, mundane? Never heard of blood-fire before? I shouldn¡¯t think so. It¡¯s a family spell.¡±

    ¡°Uhh, boss?¡± The earth mage prodded nervously. ¡°Should you really be using invocation magic? Messing with simple spell-weaves is one thing but irresponsible use of spells could be dangerous.¡±

    The other mages backed away from the earth mage. Darrik turned and looked him in the eye, then swiftly backhanded him across the face. ¡°Do NOT question me like that, Roy. I don¡¯t let you cling to me like the leech you are for your moral input on my every action.¡±

    Mar decided this was his chance to ask the question that had burning in his mind. ¡°Why do you hate me so much, Darrik? I¡¯m not a mage, I¡¯m in none of your classes, as far as I can remember I¡¯ve never done anything to hurt you. And don¡¯t try to tell me this is about Verona. You disliked me long before you met her.¡±

    Darrik stepped closer to the wall of flames so that Mar could make out his form past the flickering red light. He hissed out a single sentence. ¡°You stole what rightfully should have been mine.¡±

    ¡°What?¡± Mar asked in confusion, but Darrik had already stepped back in line with his friends.

    Darrik rubbed the part of his face where the rock struck him. ¡°Now mundane. You¡¯re going to pay for throwing stones at us. Roy, you¡¯re an earth mage, aren¡¯t you? Make me some rocks ten times as big as the one that hit me. Let¡¯s see how he likes getting stones thrown at him!¡± Darrik smiled evilly.

    Roy didn¡¯t have an invocation for making rocks set up, so they had to wait several minutes for Roy manually bind dirt together and harden it into a type of sudo-stone earth mages often used for construction.

    Mar had been inspecting his dead arm, which was tingling slightly as blood slowly came back to it. This only heightened the sensation of the limb being dipped in boiling water, and Mar winced as he cradled his arm. He wondered how much worse it would have been if he had stuck his whole hand through the blood-fire.

    With only the slightest sound in warning, a fist size clump of magically compressed dirt hit Mar in the stomach, doubling him over in pain. The material turned to dust on impact, but it was still like taking a punch in the gut from someone wearing a steel gauntlet.

    It was quickly followed by another one that hit Mar in the shoulder of his good arm. He tried to brush away the dirt but remembered he still couldn¡¯t move his other arm. This one doubled him over, pushing him to the ground. He managed to stop his head just before it came into contact with the circle of blood-fire. If it could make his hand to numb, Mar didn¡¯t want to know what it could do to his head.

    Another dirt-rock flew through the air, but this time Mar was too low for it to hit him. Mar realized that while the flames obscured his vision and limited his ability to predict where the arms were coming from, they also obscured his assailants aim.

    Mar realized he could use this to his advantage, and he started sticking to the sides of the ring. Most of the following projectiles missed him. One got him in the ribs and another grazed the side of his head. The final hit struck him hard on the leg just as he was ducking to save his head. After that though, the projectiles stopped.

    Mar couldn¡¯t see what had happened beyond the blood-fire, but he heard footsteps hurrying away. It took a minute, but after Darrik moved away the mana fueling the spell started running low and the spell started flickering out. In another minute there was a gap in the flame large enough for Mar to jump through.

    He looked around. No sign of Darrik and crew. Mar felt himself up and down. What didn¡¯t already ache certainly would by tomorrow. He felt his face, trying to determine if the rock clump that grazed him would give him a black eye.

    Mar gritted his teeth. This wasn¡¯t the first time a mage had ruined his night on a whim. If Mar had been a mage like them they wouldn¡¯t have dared¡­ but he was, so they did.

    Mar cursed his ill fortune if it wasn¡¯t for his debt he could move out of this portion of the city. At least then the only mages he¡¯d interact with would be professional working-class mages, rather then entitled and sadistic scions of the uber-elite.

    Maybe he would have to give into Darrik¡¯s demands after all and stop trying to see Verona. It¡¯s not like he¡¯d been able to really talk with her these last few times he tried. She¡¯d always been busy and he could never seem to catch her at the right time. It was really quite upsetting. They¡¯d been so close growing up together. They¡¯d shared dreams and aspirations, they¡¯d even written down a promise to each other that when they were both great mages they would rebuild Orlem into a better place, not just for mages but for the mundanes too.

    Now she and Mar lived in different worlds. She was a mage, one of the best in her year at the academy. Mar was just a bookkeeper. The closest he got to the world of magic was through books written by long dead magi.

    Mar left the academy grounds and stepped onto the floating paths, which were much like the platforms that the library used to reach high bookshelves, except these moved across the city along common paths. They were essentially a cobblestone road that moved on it¡¯s own, carrying people and things on it. They moved about five times faster than a human on foot. It was a very helpful tool in a city as big as Orlem. It meant even Mar, who lived on the other side of the city, could transverse the distance at the speed of a galloping horse.

    Most days Mar would walk around with the floating paths, letting his feet carry him to his destination slightly faster than simply waiting for the magic to carry him there, but today Mar¡¯s body ached too much. He sat down on the rough surface of the floating cobblestone, gazing through the cracks at the city below.

    Orlem was beautiful at night. This portion of the city was full of either mages, wealthy merchants, or very successful tradesmen. All of them could afford some kind of illumination at night so this whole region was bright with light. Buildings towered high into the sky, many of them elaborate in design. Earth mages building here were creative with their architecture, though they all had a soft spot for tall spires that pierced the clouds. Even the poorer buildings were decorated with bright paints, many of them were so vibrant in color it was tiresome on the eyes. The mage neighborhoods in particular were unique as every homeowner tried to make their house slightly more impressive than those beside them.

    As Mar left the neighborhoods and city blocks that were frequented by mages, the subpaths started disappearing, until the only one left was the main thoroughfare to the eastern gates. Why would the mages bother the Realmstone with building and maintaining a path to the slums? They¡¯d certainly never get any use from them, and it helped keep the riff-raff off their magic roads.

    Mar got off at the closest exit to his rented apartment. Walking straight there he would be home in about fifteen minutes, though in reality the chaotic building plan of this area of the city meant it could take nearly an hour, depending on whether or not he was able to cut through various markets and buildings.

    Mar tried to straighten his injured leg and hide his limp as he walked. He didn¡¯t want to look like easy prey for pickpockets and thieves. Mar had learned how to survive in the slums the hard way after he moved there from the ritzy neighborhoods around Orlem¡¯s School of Magic.

    Nearly home, Mar decided to cut through Dirtflea market, which was every bit as poor and downtrodden as the name implied. Even at this late hour there were still some enterprising people selling their wares. Mostly food vendors who were selling potatoes and onions too small or deformed for the wealthier markets. Around him, Mar could hear the familiar sounds of haggling and the clinking of copper coins. Obviously stolen goods were being sold at every corner, and the thieves selling them made little effort to disguise their trade.

    ¡°A golden goblet. Don¡¯t tell me, family heirloom?¡± a rough looking peddler asked a shady looking thug with a knowing grin.

    ¡°Eh, fell off the back of a wagon.¡± The thug replied, returning the grin.

    Crime couldn¡¯t be completely eradicated, even in Orlem, but it could be controlled. The city had it¡¯s own token guard force, but any time serious military power was required the mage families would send in their personally armed and equipped personnel to grind any unfavorable criminal organizations into dust.

    ¡°Get your knives! Everyone needs a good knife! The stabby kind, the slicy kind, the staby and slicy kind, I¡¯ve got ¡®em all!¡±

    ¡°Used clothes here! Little to no blood on them!¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t have the paperwork to purchase Pyrastern mana stones? No problem! Just borrow them from me! Permanently!¡±

    Mar blocked out the noise of all the various peddlers and tradesmen hawking their wares. Gaunt, malnourished faces abounded. Children ran through the streets. It was hard to tell if they were playing games or stealing purses, but it was probably some combination of the two.

    Mar gently wormed his way through the crowd while keeping one hand firmly covering his coin pouch. Not that he had much in it. He scanned the crowd, his eyes catching briefly on an unusually dressed young woman. She appeared to be clothed in interwoven leaves and plant fibers. She had a concerned look about her, as if being around so many people was unusual. She caught Mar staring at her and met his eyes briefly. Mar broke eye contact but out of the corner of his eyes he could tell that the strange young woman was looking straight at him.

    Mar continued walking when he noticed the leaf-clad young woman was heading right for him. Now that he¡¯d gotten a second look, he realized she was a beastkin. It was unusual to find such individuals away from their clans. The way she was dressed she could be one of those tree-worshiping druids.

    Mar ducked his head low. Being below-average height was useful sometimes. It meant he could hide well in a crowd.

    He was nearly out of the market when he saw that the girl had cut ahead of him and was blocking the exit that lead to his apartment building. Briefly, Mar considered walking all the way around and exiting on the other side, but that would double the time it would take him to get home.

    Wait, why was he so afraid of some woman? She was far too shoddily dressed to be affiliated with any of the major families. The odds of this woman being connected to Darrik in any way were slim.

    Mar decided to just walk by her. He was probably just being paranoid, thinking she was looking for him. He didn¡¯t think he¡¯d run afoul of any criminal organizations.looked up at her.

    Mar walked right up to her. She was still standing in the center of the narrow exit from the market, clogging the way. ¡°Excuse me.¡± It came out harsher than he intended, his foul mood poisoning the words.

    The woman ignored him like he wasn¡¯t even there. She swiveled her head around, as if looking for someone. Mar tried to walk around her, but the path was very narrow and he knew he couldn¡¯t get around her unless she moved out of the way.

    ¡°Excuse me!¡± Mar repeated, trying to catch her attention. He got a chance to get a closer look at her garment. From the handwoven clothing made of leaves and grass to the wooden trinkets and tattoos that adorned her it was obvious anyone could tell at a glance that she was a druid. Odd, since druids were a reclusive type of magic user, rarely found in Orlem. She likely wasn¡¯t out of her twenties, and could be as young as Mar himself, assuming she hadn¡¯t manipulated her age with magic. Most apparent though were her cat-like ears and eyes. She was definitely a beastkin, as druids often were. Human looking for the most part, but on the inside, they thought like a wild animal.

    ¡°Oh! You were talking to me.¡± The beastkin said with surprise. ¡°How can I help you?¡±

    ¡°I need to pass through. If you could just move out of the way.¡±

    The cat-eared woman nodded along attentively, but didn¡¯t move an inch.

    ¡°Just, a bit to the side¡­¡± Mar gestured at her with his hand.

    ¡°Oh! You mean I should move!¡± The girl said in the exact same tone. She stepped out of the way and swept her arms in an arc in the direction Mar was going, as if pointing the way.

    ¡°Thank you.¡± Mar said. Damn druids. They spend too much time with plants to remember human social conventions and gestures.

    It took Mar a few seconds to realize that the druid was following him. He kept walking. Maybe she was just going in the same direction.

    He took the long route back to his apartment. He made two right turns, and then two left turns. Still she was right behind him. It¡¯s not like she was even trying to be sneaky about it, she was no more than a dozen paces behind him the whole time. Anyone watching probably thought they were walking together.

    Reaching the door to his apartment, Mar had finally had enough. He¡¯d dealt with enough crap today.

    ¡°Can I help you?¡± He demanded of the beastkin.

    The girl¡¯s eyebrows rose in surprise, as if she never expected him to turn around and notice her.

    ¡°I think¡­ Yes. I think you can.¡±

    Mar¡¯s expression mirrored her own initial surprise.

    ¡°With¡­ what¡­?¡± Mar asked slowly.

    ¡°I had a dream about you last night. A vision.¡±

    Mar glanced at the woman, eyebrow raised.

    ¡°I¡­ I think you¡¯re the one. I think my search is over, at last. May the Divine Priestess be praised.¡±

    ¡°I think you have the wrong person.¡± Mar started turning away.

    ¡°Wait! I¡¯ve been looking for someone. A young man. He should be about your age.¡± The beastkin continued.

    Mar turned back to the druid. ¡°Orlem is a big city. You¡¯re going to have to be more specific.¡±

    ¡°Right. I expect he¡¯d be well known. A hero probably, mostly likely adored by everyone he meets. A mage of great power, and a genius of magic.¡±

    Mar blinked. ¡°Well you¡¯re in the wrong part of the city for that. Head up to Overhill square, then¡ª¡±

    ¡°No! I¡¯m certain this is the place. The Divine Priestesses visions tell me so! I¡¯m¡­ it¡¯s you. It has to be you. I¡¯ve been searching for so long.¡±

    Ah. So that¡¯s what this was.

    Mar rolled his eyes. ¡°Let me guess, you¡¯re here to give me some object of vast power and responsibility?¡±

    It was the beastkin¡¯s turn to blink. ¡°Y-yes. How did you know?¡±

    ¡°Oh, I¡¯ve seen the whole sham before. First you convince me that I have some sort of secret gift or that I¡¯m the heir to a long lost kingdom. You get me to sell off all my worldly possessions and run off on some adventure with you. Then, soon as we¡¯re out of sight of the city, your friends pop out of the bushes and hit me on the back of the head with a rock. You and your pals run off with all my wealth and worldly possessions, meanwhile I¡¯m left naked and starving on the side of the road to get picked up by slavers or something. No thanks. I¡¯ve heard of this scheme before.¡±

    ¡°That sounds horrible! What kind of person would do such a thing!?¡±

    Mar snorted. He reached the door to his apartment complex. He checked his pocket for his key but realized the building was completely unlocked. He still pulled the key out though so that he could open the door that lead to his tiny room.

    ¡°Okay, I¡¯m not certain on the other stuff, but the young man I¡¯m looking for is a genius of magic. Well, a genius of many things but particularly of magic!¡±

    Mar sighed and shook his head. ¡°The only genius of magic I know is Verona, and she¡¯s a girl I thin¡ª¡±

    ¡°Oh, that name! I recognize it! The Divine Priestess gave me that name in a vision. I was told the man I¡¯m looking for was at one point the¡­ what¡¯s the Remian word? Male companion?¡±

    ¡°Fianc¨¦?¡± Mar supplied.

    ¡°Hmm. Maybe. Yes, that would make him the fianc¨¦ of the sorceress named Verona! You must take me to her. She will know the one I¡¯m looking for.¡±

 The Gray Stone 2

    ¡°Absolutely not.¡± Mar said with finality. He turned back to the door prying it open just enough to slip inside alone. He intended to slam the door shut in the woman¡¯s face but she stuck her arm in the crack and pushed against him. Mar was surprised to find that she was easily prying the door open, despite him trying to push it closed. Either that beating had left him more weakened then he thought or this druid was far stronger then she appeared.

    ¡°Wait no¡­ please!¡± the druid pleaded with Mar. He ignored her. ¡°I have been searching for so long for the right soul. After so many years of carrying for this burden, my goddess has sent me a vision of someone I can pass it on to.¡±

    ¡°I told you, I¡¯m not interested. Please go and scam someone else.¡±

    ¡°No! You need to listen to me!¡± The druid insisted.

    ¡°I¡¯ll call the city guard.¡± Mar threatened. It was and idle threat though. The last time a guardsman had passed through this portion of the city he¡¯d had to call in backup just to leave the neighborhood with his own skin intact. The nearest patrol was likely three blocks over. They¡¯d never hear him yelling.

    ¡°I¡¯m not completely ignorant of the ways of you city-folk.¡± The druid responded. ¡°I know it is law here to provide whatever assistance you are able when a user of magic asks. I call upon that law now.¡±

    ¡°That law is an ancient tradition the mage families instituted to ensure their superior status and to let all outsiders know that Orlem is a city built by mages, for mages. It holds little meaning to me.¡±

    ¡°Nonetheless, I must demand that you provide food, shelter, and listen to what I have to say.¡±

    Mar glared at her for a long moment. ¡°If you even are a mage, you could pull this same stunt at the gates of an estate belonging to any one of the established mage families. They¡¯d happily leave you with a room and servants and give you all the food you can eat. All I can offer is cold porridge and a colder spot on the floor.¡±

    ¡°Nonetheless, I would ask you.¡±

    ¡°First I need proof that you¡¯re really a mage, and not just someone dressed like a druid.¡±

    The beastkin reached into a pouch at her hip and withdrew a single seed. She grasped it in her hand and hummed a wordless tune. Light peeked out from the corners of her fingertips and when she opened her hand the seed had sprouted. It continued to grow as Mar watched, and soon it had formed a tiny flower which wound around the druids finger like a ring. She plucked it off her hand and handed it to Mar.

    ¡°A satisfactory demonstration?¡± the druid questioned.

    Mar nodded curtly in reply. He let out a slow sigh and released his grip on the door, which flew open under the force the beastkin exerted on it. He¡¯d already spent the evening being stepped on by mages. Why not a his nights as well? He made no comment as he ascended the stairs off to his left up the many flights of stairs that lead to his room. The light echo of footsteps behind him confirmed that the druid had followed.

    As soon as Mar opened the door to his tiny apartment, the druid began babbling out a torrent of words that Mar had little patients for.

    ¡°--And so you see, the message the goddess sent me is clear. The one I seek is close to a powerful mage by the name of Verona and she can¡­"

    Mar tried to continue to ignore and whatever gibberish she was spouting, but she kept following him pleading her case. When Mar sat down with a bowl of cold stew to eat his dinner he heard her stomach rumble and he sighed.

    He emptied half of his bowl into an empty one and passed it to her. She pointed to it in surprise, as if asking if it was really for her. Mar nodded.

    ¡°I¡¯m Mar.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s a nice name. Short and to the point. So many people around here carry around long boring names that have no meaning and that I can never remember.¡±

    ¡°Well, it¡¯s not my full name, it¡¯s just a nickname. But I¡¯ve been going by it for so long now that I don¡¯t think I¡¯ll even respond to anything else.¡±

    They ate the soup in silence for a while.

    ¡°And your name?¡± Mar prodded gently.

    She shrugged. ¡°None of the animals in my grove can speak like we can, so they just call me whatever they want.¡±

    ¡°But what can I call you?¡±

    ¡°Yavin is a pretty name. I heard somebody call a girl that this morning.¡±

    ¡°Yavin it is then. I¡¯ll take you to seen Verona tomorrow. But that¡¯s all I¡¯m promising. She can decide if she wants to introduce you to Darrik or not, because I¡¯m certainly not going to.¡±

    ¡°Whose Darrik?¡± the Yavin mumbled around a mouthful of soup.

    ¡°Darrik Pyrastern. He¡¯s Verona¡¯s fianc¨¦, and the future head of the Pyrastern family.¡±

    ¡°The Pyrastern family¡­ I¡¯ve heard of them before.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯d bet you have. They¡¯re a family of blood mages, and the largest supplier of mana capacitors in Orlem.¡± Mar replied, annoyed that he was being forced to talk about Darrik.

    ¡°Oh! He works with mana crystals then!? This is wonderful! He must truly be the one I¡¯m seeking.¡± The druid clutched at a pouch dangling around her neck. It appeared to have been woven from strands of grass.

    ¡°Yes. Darrik¡¯s amazing.¡± Mar said sarcastically. ¡°Where are you staying? I¡¯ll come get you in the morning.¡±

    Yavin shrugged. ¡°Where ever I can find a place to sleep.¡±

    ¡°You didn¡¯t rent a room in an inn? I know of plenty of cheap ones that will only cost a few copper denarii.¡±

    Yavin frowned. ¡°I don¡¯t have any copper. And none of those denarii either.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re broke then?¡± The woman showed no reaction. ¡°Fine. You can sleep on the floor. I have some spare sheets that I have stowed away for winter. You can sleep on those.¡±

    Mar stood up and walked to the corner, fetching his spare sheets. He turned to go towards his bed, which was just across the room in his tiny apartment, but she beat him to it.

    ¡°Or I can sleep on the floor¡­¡± Mar muttered grumpily

    Mar rolled around on the uncomfortable surface for minutes, unable to find a comfortable position. He glared enviously at the girl he had let into his home, thinking not for the last time that he really should have just slammed that door on her.

    Just when Mar was finally drifting off to sleep there was a loud thump from across the room from where Yavin slept, jarring Mar fully awake again. He sat up quietly, thinking the girl had gotten out of bed but frowned when he saw she was still sound asleep. Then there was a dull sound like a coin rolling across the floor on its edge. It the dim light from Mar¡¯s one window he could saw the glimmer of something rolling towards him. It had fallen out of the druid¡¯s pouch while she slept and had rolled across the floor towards Mar. That¡¯s what the wild forest girl gets for making clothes herself instead of buying a proper shirt with real pockets.

    Mar threw the sheets off himself and stood up, plucking the round object from the floor. It was disk shaped, like a coin, but it appeared to be made from some type of smooth gray stone, almost crystalline in appearance. What type though, Mar could hardly guess. It was broken on all faces, and appeared to be smooth like shattered obsidian, except for the color. It was clearly shaped from what had once been a larger chunk, the edges napped into what approximated a small round disk. Mar was surprised the rough edges had allowed it to roll as well as it had. Looking very closely at it, Mar could see tiny scratches in the surface in irregular patters. The remnants of what only could have been runes were visible from inside the stone itself, and when held up to the light it sparkled with tiny tunnels and channels visible throughout the surface of the stone. Was it enchanted then? It was clearly made to be magical in some capacity. Such things could be quite valuable if they did something useful.

    Mar glanced over to the druid. She was clearly fast asleep. Mar briefly debated the ethics of messing with her belongings but decided she owed him for giving her food and a bed. The least she could do was satisfy his curiosity. Besides, if it was something valuable, why didn¡¯t she keep it somewhere safer than a loose, poorly sewn pouch?

    He steadied his breathing. This was the one piece of magic that he could do. The kind that everyone could learn to do with a bit of practice. After all, everyone has mana, it¡¯s just actually using that mana that falls under the purview of mages. Most people would have to buy a mana capacitor for this, but Mar loathed to support Darrik Pyrastern or his family with his patronage. Focusing for just a second allowed Mar to access his mana well, surrounded by his aura. For anyone besides a mage this usually took at least an hour of meditation, but Mar had practiced as a child back when he still thought he had a chance at using magic. With pride, he noted that it only took him a minute to access his well, connecting it to the magic circuit in the little stone disk.Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

    It was slippery for a moment, but then like a suckling baby pig the little disk latched on to his aura and began drawing mana eagerly. Mar panicked at first, and was about to rip the connection apart, but then the amount of mana being absorbed by the device slowed drastically until it was approximately on par with Mar¡¯s own passive mana regeneration. It was barely a trickle of power, though still much more than a perpetually bound mana circuit would usually require. Mar knew that the only thing he had in the magical department that was above average was his passive mana regeneration rate, but this device was taking up mana at exactly the rate he was accumulating it. That meant most people using this device would be steadily losing mana. Satisfied that he wasn¡¯t going to drop dead from the mana drain, Mar began examining the stone disk.

    Mar picked up the disk and looked it over to see if it was doing anything. He didn¡¯t see anything. Mar wasn¡¯t deterred though. He was a scholar of magic! He wouldn¡¯t let a little puzzle like this stop him! Well, a scholar of the history of magic, but that didn¡¯t mean he couldn¡¯t figure out what had to be a relatively simple magic circuit. It couldn¡¯t be too complicated if a backwoods druid from outside of Orlem was carrying it around.

    Mar peered into the stone for any sign of light or color. Nothing. He hefted it in his hand and sure enough it was the same weight. He sniffed it and felt its surface to see if it was warm to the touch, but it seemed identical to before he supplied power to hit. Maybe it was some sort of shielding enchantment? Mar waved his hand in front of him but felt no disturbance.

    Now that certainly was strange. Mar had certainly been dumping an awful lot of power into this little rock for such a small device, but he¡¯d seen no reaction whatsoever. This little grey rock seemed to have a complete lack of any magical properties, but if that were the case where was the mana going?

    Mar was no mage but everything he had read indicated that mana couldn¡¯t simply vanish. It couldn¡¯t be created or destroyed, if you put mana into an enchantment it had to go somewhere. The trouble was, Mar couldn¡¯t figure out what that somewhere was. Maybe it was some sort of mana storage device? Mar didn¡¯t think that was very likely, especially considering the amount of money the Pyrastern family made from the production of mana capacitors, and create one of those was far more complicated than just inserting mana. You had to create opposing elements held adjacent to each other by a thin barrier. Also, the blood sacrifices needed to make them were quite nasty. Hence the reason the Pyrastern¡¯s were also heavily involved in slave trading. Nobody complains if you use a slave for blood magic.

    Just when Mar was about to give up, he heard a distant noise, like whispering but just out of reach.

    Mar glanced around. There was no one.

    Then he heard the whispering again. This time it sounded almost as if it was coming from nearby, just in front of him. In his hands in fact. Mar brought the stone up to his ear to try and listen closer. Now that he was looking, Mar could almost see a dim red light emanating from between his fingers. The whispering grew louder.

    ¡°Closer! Closer! Faster you stupid human! Just a little closer! Yes, that¡¯s it! Now just hold still¡ª¡±

    Mar threw the stone across the room. What the infernal abyss was that?

    The stone rolled and tumbled on its edge landing with a gentle thud just beside Mar¡¯s bed.

    Mar gazed at the stone thoughtfully. There was no red light visible now, and certainly no whispering voices. Maybe he wasn¡¯t as wide awake as he thought. He should just lie down and go back to sleep. But for some reason that little round stone called to him. He wanted to pick it up again. He had definitely heard something.

    Just when Mar was about to walk over and pick it up Yavin jerked awake. ¡°Oh no!¡± She gasped with alarm, clutching at the handmade pouch she had around her neck. She opened it in panic, reaching her hand into it. ¡°It¡¯s gone!¡±

    Mar pretend to have just been startled awake. He sat up and asked, ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡±.

    ¡°It¡¯s gone! The stone my mistress entrusted to me!¡± the druid looked as if she was about to burst into tears.

    ¡°Was it a little round gray crystal? Flat and circular like a stone? About the size of my thumbnail?¡±

    The druid¡¯s eyes snapped to Mar¡¯s suspiciously.

    Mar sighed exasperatedly, pretending he was still annoyed from being woken up.

    ¡°It¡¯s on the ground on your right. I heard it fall out and it woke me up.¡± Mar said truthfully.

    The druid looked down to her side from Mar¡¯s bed. Sure enough the gray disk sat on the floor by her bed. The girl leapt out of bed and pounced on it.

    ¡°You naughty little thing! You¡¯re getting bold with your seal weakening. Don¡¯t worry though, we¡¯ll have you sealed up again soon.¡± Yavin opened her pouch and dropped the stone inside, pulling a drawstring at the top of the bag tight and tying it off. Then she settled down to go back to sleep, her hands curled protectively over the bag.

    Before she could fall asleep, Mar¡¯s curiosity demanded he ask her about the stone. ¡°What is that thing?¡± Mar ask nonchalantly.

    ¡°Oh this?¡± The druid asked nervously. ¡°It¡¯s just a trinket. More of a good luck charm really. Nothing special about it.¡±

    Mar scoffed. ¡°Even I won¡¯t buy that lie. It¡¯s some sort of artifact, isn¡¯t it? Is it a communication stone? You know, those are incredibly valuable if you have a matching pair. I bet any one of Orlem¡¯s Senators would pay you ten times it¡¯s weight in gold even for just that one.¡±

    The druid looked slightly horrified at the thought of selling the stone. ¡°It¡¯s not a communication¡¯s stone. It¡¯s not valuable at all really, quite the opposite. This little thing can get you into a lot more trouble than you would think. It¡¯s my duty to guard it. Bring it to a safe place. I was told I could pass it off to someone in this city, but the goddess only gave me a vague impression of a person, not a name. But I really shouldn¡¯t be talking about that.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry. I¡¯m not going to steal it or anything.¡± Mar assured her. ¡°True I¡¯m not living in the Overhill district, but I¡¯m not that desperate.¡±

    The girl still looked uncertain, but Mar¡¯s curiosity was peaked. It reminded him of something he read in a book he had translated for the private library of one of the members of the Low Senate.

    ¡°Is it some sort of spellstone?¡± Mar asked.

    Yavin looked up. ¡°Yes, it is. I¡¯m surprised you know that word, since you¡¯re not a mage.¡±

    Mar nodded. ¡°Not a mage, but I¡¯ve been known to have an unhealthy interest in all things magical.¡±

    ¡°To answer your question, no it¡¯s not a spellstone, but it¡¯s based off one. I suppose if you¡¯re really so curious I can tell you. You did feed me and open your home to me tonight, so I suppose I owe you. This is, as you guessed, an artifact, made by an ancient someone or something through means no living mage can either understand or replicate. It¡¯s not a communication stone though, and it doesn¡¯t do anything good. It¡¯s a warlock¡¯s totem.¡±

    Mar¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°That means it¡¯s¡­¡±

    The girl nodded. ¡°Yes. It holds a connection to an ancient, powerful, and malevolent spirit. And a pact can be made with it through this stone.¡± She held up the little gray disk.

    ¡°At the low price of your immortal soul.¡± Mar muttered.

    The girl smiled. ¡°Exactly, which is why it is sealed. And why I¡¯m watching over it. Have been ever since its previous guardian passed it on to me, and now it¡¯s nearly time for me to pass it on to someone else. It¡¯s still sealed for the time being though. If it wasn¡¯t it would probably be casting spells to enslave us and bind us to its will. It¡¯s a troublesome little thing, and I¡¯ll be glad to be rid of it.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve never seen a warlock¡¯s totem before. I never realized they were so active. I thought it was just a tiny fragment of a much more powerful soul that can lend a bit of power to its wielder.¡± Mar asked.

    The druid tapped her chin. ¡°How much do you know of dungeon cores?¡±

    ¡°I know they¡¯re valuable. Priceless heirlooms in fact. There isn¡¯t anybody that doesn¡¯t want to grow their own dungeon. Even a small one can produce more wealth in accumulated mana and natural enchantments then a goldmine of equivalent size. Bigger and better cores make bigger and better dungeons, which are obviously more valuable.¡±

    She nodded. ¡°So, you know of them but do you know what they¡¯re really used for? About how they¡¯re made?¡±

    ¡°No, I thought they just formed naturally wherever mana accumulates?¡± Mar replied curiously.

    Yavin snorted. ¡°That¡¯s the story they tell the ignorant masses just so every two-bit mage doesn¡¯t try to make their own dungeon core. Magic crystals can form naturally where ever there is both ki and mana of the same element brushing against each other. What makes a dungeon core special is that it has a spirit or soul fragment trapped inside of it. Usually the ones artificially made by mages for specific purposes.¡±

    ¡°What kind of spirit?¡± Mar asked suspiciously.

    ¡°Most only have a plant or insect spirit. That¡¯s what your usual dungeon core has in it. Some though can have more potent spirits in them. Wolves, eagles, cats, snakes, goblins, sometimes even humans, dwarves, or elves.

    Mar grunted as his suspicions were affirmed. ¡°What¡¯s the point of using a sentient spirit for a dungeon core?¡±

    ¡°A good question. It doesn¡¯t make the dungeon itself more powerful, but it does make it a great deal more cunning. It¡¯s able to store much more information and act according to long-term plans and goals. This isn¡¯t ideal for things like your typical adventurer¡¯s dungeon where you¡¯re just looking to kill monsters and gather riches, but for something more useful, like a mage¡¯s spellstone, it¡¯s invaluable. A spellstone made with an insect spirit will have a memory for spells vastly inferior to one made using a fox spirit.¡±

    ¡°So how does this relate to that warlock¡¯s totem you¡¯ve got there?¡± Mar asked.

    ¡°Well, warlock¡¯s totems are made from dungeon cores in a similar way that spellstones are. Except a spellstone can be bound entirely to its wielders will. With a warlock¡¯s totem, the connection isn¡¯t one sided. A warlock¡¯s totem is the physical symbol of a pact between a person and something much more powerful. The warlock gains power, but at a cost. The other being ¡ªusually a demon or powerful elemental spirit¡ª binds a tiny portion of its own soul into an empty dungeon core. It operates independently of the rest of the demon, and eventually merges with and devours the warlock¡¯s soul. Many would-be warlocks think they can escape doom by discarding the totem before they¡¯re devoured, but the relationship rarely works out in the warlock¡¯s favor. Once in possession of a human body, and greater in power because of its newest meal, the demon soul fragment unleashes destruction all around it until it is either destroyed or finds a new soul to corrupt, eventually returning both the soul fragment and merged warlock¡¯s soul to the demon itself, somewhere in the abyss.¡±

    ¡°Interesting, from a purely academic standpoint.¡± Mar replied. ¡°I¡¯ve never heard such detail about the nature of warlocks. They¡¯re usually a very hushed up subject at the academy. I¡¯m only a history student there though, so perhaps it¡¯s something they only teach the mage students.¡±

    Yavin gave a shallow smile. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t be surprised if they didn¡¯t teach it at all. I¡¯ve met mages from Orlem¡¯s academy, and their very good, strictly from a spellcasting standpoint, but they know little of what they actually do. Still, I didn¡¯t come here thinking they¡¯ll be useless. You all basically live in a dungeon after all. It stands to reason that at least some people at the academy know a thing or two about dungeon cores.¡±

    ¡°What?¡± Mar asked with surprise. ¡°Where¡¯d you get that idea? That we live in a dungeon?¡±

    She looked at Mar in surprise, then waved her arm around her. ¡°This whole city is technically inside a dungeons domain. That¡¯s how you have such powerful wards up, and what keeps all these mana-consuming devices running.¡±

    ¡°Oh, you must mean the Realmstone. That¡¯s in the center of the city, but it¡¯s not a dungeon core, it just runs the mana grid that powers most of the spells in the city and keeps the lights and transportation network running.¡±

    She raised an eyebrow at him. ¡°Sounds like a dungeon core to me.¡±

    Mar paused to think about it. Sure enough, a giant floating stone in the middle of the city that controls the flow of mana throughout the city, creating and managing natural enchantments around the cities border. It certainly sounded like a dungeon core.

    ¡°You bring up an interesting point.¡± Mar noted. ¡°The tournament is coming up soon. Maybe they¡¯ll have the Realmstone out.¡±

 The Gray Stone 3

    Mar woke up groaning. He rubbed his back, wondering why it ached, then remembered he slept on his floor. He looked over towards his bed, expecting to see Yavin still sound asleep, but his bed was empty.

    The druid in question poked her head around the corner. She had a sheepish look on her face as she handed Mar a bowl of dirty brown colored stew.

    ¡°What¡¯s this?¡± Mar asked.

    ¡°I tried to make breakfast, but I¡¯m not familiar with any of the ingredients you have on hand. Sorry.¡±

    Mar tried a spoonful. It was mushy and had an interesting combination of flavors, but it wasn¡¯t horrible. ¡°Stew isn¡¯t half bad.¡±

    Yavin blushed. ¡°It was supposed to be bread. I seem to recall that¡¯s something everybody in the city eats. I added way too much water though.¡±

    ¡°So about today. Why don¡¯t you try on some clothes of mine from the bin over there?¡± Mar pointed under his bed, where several pieces of clothing were sticking out. It was more than most people owned, but thanks to enchanted looms clothes were far cheaper in Orlem then elsewhere.

    ¡°Why? My clothes are perfectly suitable. Besides, yours won¡¯t fit right.¡±

    ¡°I know. Maybe just throw my coat over the top? It¡¯s just the way you¡¯re currently dressed practically screams ¡®druid¡¯. We¡¯re going to have to go to Orlem¡¯s School of Magic and everyone there is a professional mage. They might not have any power over you since you don¡¯t live in Orlem, but the mages here hate it when outsiders are encroaching on their profession.¡±

    ¡°Very well.¡± Yavin said resignedly. ¡°If it will help me find this master crystal mage of yours sooner then I will concede to your wishes.¡± She picked up Mar¡¯s largest coat and through it around herself. Mar wasn¡¯t that much taller than her, but the sleeves still extended past her hands. It covered up the tell-tale signs of her being a druid though, so it served its purpose.

    ¡°About that.¡± Mar interjected. ¡°I told you I¡¯d introduce you to Verona. After that you¡¯re on your own. I¡¯m sure as hell not taking you to Darrik.¡±

    ¡°You speak as if there is something wrong with this Darrik person?¡± Verona inquired.

    Mar barked a laugh. ¡°More than something wrong. He¡¯s a complete ass. You¡¯ll see for yourself if you¡¯re unlucky enough to meet him.¡±

    Yavin tilted her head quizzically. ¡°You don¡¯t get along with him? Odd. I do not believe I would be sent a vision of this man if he was unworthy of accepting the burden I wish to pass to him. I will have to see for myself.¡±

    Mar shrugged. ¡°Your loss. But now that your ready let¡¯s go. Verona is probably at the fields already practicing. The big Tournament is coming up soon.

    They left Mar¡¯s apartment while it was still early. The cool morning air was chilly, and Mar slightly regretting having to give Yavin his jacket.

    There were plenty of other people awake though, and even if they couldn¡¯t see the druid clothes that Yavin wore, they couldn¡¯t mistake the cat-like ears that marked her as a beastkin.

    Many people in Orlem thought the beastkin were unnatural abominations, since their ancestors had been human druids who twisted themselves with their own magic, but that was thousands of years ago.

    At first Mar wondered why they were getting so many stares. Beastkin were a minority certainly, but they weren¡¯t unheard of in the city. It was only when Yavin¡¯s heavily endowed assets brushed against his arm as she clung to him that he realized they looked like a couple. Mixing species was always seen as moderately taboo, and the people staring must have thought Mar was some sort of sexual deviant. Mar¡¯s face reddened at the thought and he asked Yavin to pull up the hood of her jacket to obscure her ears and eyes.

    ¡°Oh, I nearly forgot! I promised Grob some sweets!¡± Mar exclaimed. He reached to his side and jungled his coin pouch a bit. There was a light clinking of coins and Mar decided he probably had enough. He stopped by a stand on their way to purchase a sweet cake and some caramelized treats. No chocolate this time though, apparently there were growing tensions with the empire to the south east, and imports have stopped.

    ¡°Who¡¯s Grob?¡± Yavin asked.

    ¡°Oh, just a goblin. It helps me with my work sometimes, so I give it food as a reward.¡±

    ¡°There are goblins here?¡± Yavin exclaimed with wonder. ¡°I didn¡¯t realize they could survive in human cities. I assumed you¡¯d get rid of them.¡±

    Mar nodded. ¡°They¡¯re viewed as slightly more intelligent rats for the most part. And more annoying too. A rat doesn¡¯t pull apart your gutter apart and try to make a hut in your garbage. Nor can it pry open the latches on your windows. Goblins are killed or tossed out whenever their found. Grob¡¯s the only one I know of at the academy, and that¡¯s just because it¡¯s meant to be there. One of the masters had a little project involving goblins, so a small tribe was brought in for the experiments. The master claimed that the reason for the massive diversity in goblin phenotype and intelligence was actually caused by a disease. A disease of a magical nature. He believed that if he could cure that disease, or at least partially treat it, goblins would develop to be far stronger and more intelligent.¡±If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.

    ¡°Interesting. Did it work?¡± Yavin asked.

    ¡°Yes and no.¡± Mar replied. ¡°Can¡¯t really be sure, since the treatment killed all the other test subjects. Grob certainly seems more intelligent and bigger than your average goblin. I talk with it almost every day.¡±

    ¡°Impressive. It is rare to find a goblin that can speak Human common with any degree of fluency. I think I¡¯d like to meet this ¡®Grob¡¯¡±.

    ¡°I did promise it I would have work for it to do. If you want to stick around after I introduce you to Verona then you are welcome to.¡±

    ¡°Can the goblin actually help you work? I know they¡¯re clever and tenacious creatures, but the work done in the city has always seemed so abstract that even I can barely wrap my head around it. Building a shelter? Making bowls and spoons from wood and clay? Even hammering a knife out in a blacksmiths forge. Those are all things that I can clearly see the purpose of and understand the work involved. But secluding yourself in a building staring at shapes on plant fibers pounded into sheets for the sole purpose of scribbling more shapes onto yet more paper? What purpose could that serve?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s true work like mine might not directly benefit people, and rarely is writing done in the outlying provinces to the extent we do here, but it is useful. Imagine if you discovered a really good way to make pot. After you died, wouldn¡¯t it be great if other people could use your technique to continue making your pots?¡±

    ¡°Isn¡¯t that what apprentices are for?¡± Yavin questioned doubtfully.

    ¡°You can only teach so many apprentices. And even then, you run the risk of those apprentices not being able to teach the technique and pass it on after you. And even if they do, after the technique has been passed on hundreds of times don¡¯t you think it would end up being a little different? With writing, you can preserve your own words and know that whoever is reading them is reading them exactly as you wrote them, no matter how far into the future they are. This preservation of detail isn¡¯t so important in pot-making, but for something like history where the small things can easily be distorted with time, it¡¯s invaluable.¡±

    ¡°Hm. And you can really get the goblin to understand all of that?¡± Yavin asked.

    ¡°Goodness no! If Grob could understand that I doubt he¡¯d need me to bring him sweets and keep him out of trouble.¡± The druid seemed to have a much higher opinion of goblins then most people, who thought of them as rats with hands, but she still had a realistic view of their abilities.

    Yavin scratched her chin in thought. ¡°Yes. I think I would very much like to see this Grob. And if he really can read and write maybe he could teach me!¡± Yavin giggled.

    ¡°You¡¯re welcome to join us. I¡¯m not sure about teaching you to read, but Grob has developed a deft hand at making paper. But I think first we should see Verona. I¡¯d like to see her again myself.¡±

    ¡°Yes, that¡¯s right. I must speak to that sorceress. If I do not get this totem fixed than¡­ well, an unbound demon is not a pleasant thing.¡±

    Livy sat at a desk at the library with an ancient tomb in front of her. It was the Historium Mythica, the very same book Mar had been reading to her from the night before. Mar had given her the assignment of rereading the passage on her own, but Livy didn¡¯t actually need to do that. The truth was she was all caught up in her history of magic class. True, her first semester in the class had been abysmal, which is why her parents had hired a tutor for her, but after becoming properly motivated with the treat of not being able to move on to her next year Livy had studied hard and quickly caught up. Her grade for the most recent quiz was nearly a hundred percent.

    Why then did she still need a tutor? Truth was she didn¡¯t. And yet at the same time she had insisted to her parents that they continue employing Mar¡¯s services.

    Livy let out a sigh as she flipped another page in the boring old book. She was like the main character in some sappy romance novel with a crush on her teacher.

    It was a source of unending irritation to her that her every attempt to flirt with Mar would be shrugged off as friendly banter. She even wrapped herself around his arm whenever she got the opportunity. Heck, last night, she even offered to go take him home. Was she not pretty enough for him?

    Livy knew that wasn¡¯t it though. She knew her appearance wasn¡¯t anything special, and in truth neither was Mar¡¯s. It might just be part of the friendly tutor persona Mar put together for his clients, but Livy felt their personalities meshed together so well. No, it was something else. Livy didn¡¯t miss the fact that his clothes sometimes had holes in it, or that he didn¡¯t always have ink for his pen. As someone who hailed from a reasonable amount of wealth, Livy had never needed to be concerned with such things. Livy knew her parents would definitely forbid any relationship with this boy of lower status, but Livy found she didn¡¯t care. After their lessons, she often found herself confessing her deepest hopes, dreams and desires to Mar like she did for nobody else. Mar probably knew more about her at this point then her parents did.

    Her parents had always been intent on her becoming a skilled artisan mage. She was from a merchant family, and her parents knew a vital part of the process of making the leap from a wealthy mercantile family to a noble family and political player lay in establishing the family line in terms of magic. Every noble family that was worth anything made certain to crank out at least one mage a generation. More if they could manage it. Mage¡¯s were simply too important a resource to exist without, especially in Orlem, which was practically overflowing with magic.

    Livy¡¯s family wanted her to become an artisan mage so they could capitalize on her abilities to take their mercantile empire to the capital. Her father had built their family fortune off construction, but he only had brick and bodies to work with. While such constructs might pass in lesser cities, in the great city of Orlem virtually everything that was constructed was built with as much magic as wood or stone. Oh, there were certainly techniques to carve and lay fluted marble columns and vaulted ceilings so high you¡¯d need three ladders, but those would increase the workload of a project by months. A skilled earth mage could put up such a structure in an afternoon. It wasn¡¯t a far stretch to say that Livy would be worth a full half of the company¡¯s assets.

    Only Livy didn¡¯t want to build apartment complexes. She wanted something more adventurous. She wanted to see the world, not be cooped up in this one city, splendid as it was. She wanted to travel and be free to do as she wanted. In a way, she envied Mar for not having family ties to hold him down. If she were him, she would have left Orlem long ago.

    Speaking of Mar, Livy looked out her window only to see him stepping off the Floating paths and walking towards the library. Livy quickly flipped back to the page that Mar had read to her last night. She scanned the pages quickly. Once he stepped in here she¡¯d pretend to notice him and then ask him a question! Steering the conversation, she might be able to get him to sit down and¡ªwait, who was that with him?

    Livy hadn¡¯t noticed the other figure at first, but now that she was looking she defiantly somebody walking by Mar¡¯s side. She even had the nerve to grab Mar¡¯s arm for balance as they stepped off the Floating Paths. And was that Mar¡¯s jacket she was wearing?

    Livy slammed her copy of the Historium Mythica shut, which earned her a glare from the librarian. Livy didn¡¯t care though. She didn¡¯t feel like reading anymore.

 The Gray Stone 4

    Talking about Verona had made Mar anxious to see her. He hadn¡¯t spoken to her in quite a while. She had to be preparing for the trials, and knowing her Mar was certain to find her on the practice fields. That¡¯s where she always spent the most time, and where Mar was sure to find her. He remembered years ago when they were two kids at the orphanage.

    They used to sit at the edge of the fields and watch the mage¡¯s blast targets and each other with spells. They would often try to analyze the mage¡¯s they were watching, trying to figure out what spells they could cast and how many. At one point, they started betting pebbles they picked up on who would win what match, but they stopped that after Mar ended up gathering a huge pile for himself while Verona had to constantly scour the ground for more.

    All the while they spent in each other¡¯s company they talked about how they would become great mages. Maybe even senators of Orlem, establish their own clans. Or maybe even found one together. But it was not to be.

    Mar gazed out over the familiar arena. ¡°There she is.¡± He pointed her out to Yavin.

    Sure, enough they could see her familiar long black hair waving the breeze as a wind spell from her dueling partner passed just inches by her face. Unlike most battle mages who would opt for a shielding spell, Verona physically dodged her opponent¡¯s attacks. This conserved magic, but required a degree of physical training most trainees were unwilling to undergo. Nevertheless, Verona had opted to train her body as well as her mind and was known to carry her signature longsword with her, which doubled as a wizard¡¯s staff.

    Mar sat on an old stump watching, Yavin sat near him. Mar didn¡¯t want to interrupt her while she was in the middle of a fight, nor did he want to distract her with his attention. Mar tried to plaster a dull smile on his face, but every time he came here he couldn¡¯t help but feel a little bit envious.

    He had a passion for magic that was unrivaled, but he lacked any sort of innate talent. Coming here to the mage¡¯s training grounds always irritated him, but it was always worth it to see her.

    With a thump, Verona blasted one of her two opponents out of the ring. His ally, deprived of aid from his comrade, was quickly overwhelmed. He was an air mage and threw up a wind barrier, but Verona simply altered her strategy from throwing fireballs to hurling rocks. That was the trouble with fighting an all-around skilled magic user. Elemental specialists all had a weakness for an opponent to exploit, but somebody with as diverse a spellset as Verona was practically impossible to fight like that. Verona was uniquely gifted in that she had at least some affinity for every element. As soon as an attack made it past his wind barrier the mage yielded, giving the victory to a grinning Verona. Her hair had been messed up by the fight, and she swept if back, revealing for an instant her ever-so-slightly pointed ears. She didn¡¯t put her hair up in a bun or ponytail for a sparring session like most female mages because she liked to use it to obscure her ears. It seemed her last visit to the flesh mages was starting to wear off.

    ¡°Verona!¡± Mar shouted to get her attention.

    She wiped sweat off her brow with the sleeve of her magus robes. Though the main color was brown, for earth magic, she also had the tell-tale stripes of red, deep blue, and off-grey that symbolized each of the four elements. While Mar lacked talent in any of the elements, Verona had abundant talent in all of them.

    ¡°Mar.¡± Verona replied with a slight smile. ¡°I haven¡¯t seen you in a while. How goes your studies?¡± She asked politely.

    ¡°Nearly finished. I graduate the same time as you, you know.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s right. I keep forgetting we go to the same school, and the same year technically. I never see you.¡±

    ¡°Hardly your fault. There¡¯s few of us non-magical students as it is, and we¡¯re mostly there for logistics purposes. If you ever needed a tutor for your magic history classes, or had to take a book from my section of the library you might would have seen me.¡±

    ¡°Mhm.¡± Verona mumbled. She knew that. She was just making small talk. ¡°So¡­ do you need money or something? I don¡¯t mind givin¡ª¡±

    ¡°No! Nothing like that.¡± Mar said in embarrassment.

    Verona knew that Mar lived on the outskirts of the city. He also tutored and copied books, putting in quite a lot of work and even still he lived in one of Orlem¡¯s poorest districts. He was in a very different situation from Verona, who had just moved into a small apartment in the Overhill district. Making money wasn¡¯t simply a matter of putting work in though. Even as a seventeen year old mage still in training there was plenty of work Verona could do. Once a month Verona would go to the school¡¯s job office and complete a single request. Usually she used earth magic to straighten out a building that had started settling, or break apart some rocks into gravel. Sometimes she used water magic to unclog the sewers. Regardless of what she did, she was always done an a few hours and walked away with what would be a year¡¯s pay for a common laborer. It only took her twenty minutes and a bit of magic to make more money than Mar could by selling a dozen copies of books. For a while Mar had been sleeping on her couch, but eventually he insisted on getting his own place, despite having to move to a poor and somewhat dangerous neighborhood.

    ¡°The scribe¡¯s guild stopped giving me trouble about copying books. Apparently since I add corrections, citations, translations, and commentary I¡¯m technically writing a new edition for each book. In fact, the scribe¡¯s guild even bought a few copies of my copies because people requesting my editions specifically. In fact, they said if I was willing to pay an initiation fee I could become a journeyman in their guild now, though with reduced privileges, and I¡¯d never have the option to become a master since I wasn¡¯t apprenticed through the guild. Neither am I allowed to open a shop, but the guild hands me the tedious work and I¡¯ve got the rent all sorted out for my place now. You should come by some time!¡± Mar replied cheerily. ¡°Exams are over now, and for most students brushing up on their magic history is the last thing on their mind. They¡¯re too busy refining their spells for the trials coming up. Funny, when the magic students are busiest I have the least work.¡±

    Verona laughed. ¡°I can relate. I wish I could stay and talk, but this is my last day to practice before the Trials.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll be rooting for you! I¡¯d love to be friends with Orlem¡¯s newest senator, so if nothing else, win it for me!¡± Mar joked.

    Verona smiled. ¡°Ha, I wish. Every young mage in the city is competing though. The odds of me becoming the next First Sorcerer, and an eventual member of the senate of mages is slim to none.¡±

    ¡°Bah¡± Mar waved his hand. ¡°You¡¯ve got all four colors on your robes, don¡¯t you? How many other mages can say that?¡±

    Verona shrugged. ¡°Out of the major players who¡¯ll be competing? Two others. Oh no doubt there will be one or two skilled kids graduating from some of our puppet or colony cities, but historically Orlem¡¯s own magi have dominated the top ten spots. I think I¡¯m the best poly-element mage in a loose sense of the word, but more elements doesn¡¯t mean better. I can think of at least one mono-element mage for each color who could wipe the floor with me in their discipline.¡±You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

    ¡°Ah! But nobody who could wipe the floor with you using all of them?¡± Mar questioned. When Verona said nothing, Mar spoke confidently ¡°And that¡¯s why I¡¯m betting a month¡¯s rent on you!¡±

    Verona grumbled something about gambling and bad habits.

    Then there was something between them that Mar had been unfamiliar with, but had grown more common every time they spoke. An awkward silence.

    Luckily Yavin cleared her throat.

    ¡°Oh, I should introduce you to Yavin here.¡±

    Verona rolled her eyes. ¡°I¡¯m not your mom Mar. You don¡¯t need to introduce me to your girlfriend. Though to be honest I¡¯m surprised you finally got one. I was beginning to suspect you played for the other team!¡±

    ¡°Ha ha.¡± Mar laughed sarcastically. She¡¯s not my girlfriend. She¡¯s just somebody I met yesterday. She wanted to meet you.¡±

    Verona frowned. ¡°Meet me? Why?¡± She looked Yavin up and down suspiciously. ¡°Are you a mage? You must be from outside of Orlem, since I don¡¯t recognize you. You are scoping out the competition?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not like that, Verona. She has this totem and she thought you could¡ª¡± then Mar stopped and thought a moment. Why did he introduce her to a total stranger? For that matter why did he let a total stranger into his home, feed her, let her have his bed, and then give her his own clothes to wear? Mar furrowed his brow. The study of mental magic was a bit taboo, but it wasn¡¯t unheard of. Most mages had a way to defend against it if they were prepared. Could he have been manipulated with magic?

    Before Mar could voice his concerns, Yavin spoke up.

    ¡°While I admit part of the reason I came to this city now was because of the little tournament your city folk put together, that¡¯s only because the event means that mages from all over Orlem¡¯s sphere of influence would be making an appearance. The odds that I would meet a skilled crystal mage here was very high.¡±

    Mar spoke up ¡°You told me you were looking for some sort of hero? A genius of magic I thought you said!¡± Mar looked at her with accusatory eyes.

    Yavin bit her lip. ¡°Yes, I¡¯m looking for that to, but before I can pass this burden on to the next guardian, I need to fix the damage done. For that I need a crystal mage. Thankfully this Darrik you told me about seems to be both.¡±

    ¡°Oh, so now you want observe my fianc¨¦ too?¡± Verona crossed her arms.

    Yavin held up her open hands, not understanding why the two of them had turned against her.

    ¡°I don¡¯t care about your silly trials! I just need to meet with this Darrik. I have heard he comes from a family of skilled crystal mages¡ª¡±

    ¡°Blood mages.¡± Verona interrupted. ¡°He comes from a family of blood mages. I¡¯ve never heard of a crystal mage before.¡±

    Yavin waved her hand. ¡°They¡¯re all related in terms of magic. I need to see if he is the one though. And whether he can repair the seal on the totem.¡± Yavin withdrew the disk from where it was hidden inside a pouch around her neck.

    Verona¡¯s eyes widened the moment she saw the artifact. ¡°Is that a warlock¡¯s totem?¡± Verona hissed. ¡°You brought a warlock into the city!?¡±

    ¡°What? No, it¡¯s not like that Verona! The thing is sealed! She wants to keep it that way and she¡ª¡±

    But Mar was interrupted by the sudden appearance of a familiar tall boy with fiery red magus robes. Darrik Pyrastern.

    ¡°Verona!¡± Darrik shouted. ¡°Here¡¯s where you went. Are you ready for your next match? Those last two you wiped out are spent for the week, but I have another few opponents lined up for you.¡± There was no trace of the cruel sadistic grin Darrik had shown Mar the previous night. Now he was nothing but a perfect gentleman. ¡°Let¡¯s try three at a time this round.¡± As he spoke, he slid up close to Verona, wrapping his arm around her. Verona didn¡¯t seem to resist.

    Mar coughed loudly before Darrik decided to start groping her right in front of him. ¡°Hello Darrik.¡± Mar said in as friendly a voice as he could muster.

    ¡°Oh! You¡¯re Verona¡¯s little scribe . . . friend. What was your name again? Tar? Flar? Zar?¡±

    ¡°Verona calls me Mar, but my full name is Marus.¡± Mar replied evenly. Verona could call him by his childhood nickname, but he certainly didn¡¯t want to hear it from Darrik.

    For a moment, Mar thought he saw a fleeting sad look pass across Verona¡¯s face. Verona wasn¡¯t from a prestigious family, the elf-blood in her heritage was proof of that. She was however an extraordinarily gifted magus, and therefor expected to marry high into Orlem¡¯s social hierarchy. Darrik came from the Pyrastern family, a name that was nearly synonymous with wealth and power, both magical and mundane. And more recently, it also meant slave trading. Though it had been illegal for many centuries, the Pyrastern family was finally able to arrange for that legislature to be overturned, meaning they could finally bring their slaves into Orlem itself and raise their production of mana crystals to new heights.

    Yavin stepped forward. ¡°You must be Darrik.¡±

    Darrik¡¯s eyes rolled over to her. There was a brief flare of red in his eyes as he activated a visual spell. Mar recognized it. It was a blood magic spell that let the user see the veins and capillaries in a person, despite their clothing. It was originally developed to root out shape-shifters hiding among human populations, but it had other uses.

    ¡°A beastkin.¡± Darrik stated with a slight sneer. The others missed the contempt in his voice but Mar heard it loud and clear. ¡°What business do you have with me, cat?¡±

    Yavin ignored him. She looked him up and down, examining him. She paced in a circle around him, looking from all angles. This only served to irritate Darrik and when he spoke again he didn¡¯t bother to hide his contemptuous tone.

    ¡°Well?¡± Darrik demanded.

    Yavin shook her head sadly. ¡°You¡¯re not the one from my vision. Even accounting a few decades of growth and changes.¡±

    ¡°Just what were you looking for?¡± Verona interjected curiously.

    ¡°As Mar said, a genius of magic. And a competent crystal¡ªerr¡­ blood mage.¡±

    Darrik puffed out his chest and tilted his head upwards so that he was looking down his nose at Yavin. ¡°Then it¡¯s your lucky day. You¡¯ve found both in me. What is it?¡±

    Yavin looked hesitant. Verona spoke up for her. ¡°She has a warlock¡¯s totem. A sealed one that¡¯s apparently becoming unsealed. She need a blood mage to seal it.¡±

    ¡°A warlock¡¯s totem you say!?¡± Darrik exclaimed, a glitter in his eye.

    ¡°Yes¡­ that¡¯s right.¡± Yavin hesitantly opened her hand, displaying the stone in front of her.

    Darrik stared at it quietly for a moment before he found words to speak. ¡°¡­Yes¡­ fixing the seal on such a low-level totem would be no issue for a mage of my caliber. Let me just take it back to my shop and¡ª¡± Darrik reached a slightly shaking hand out towards the stone, but Yavin snatched her hand away.

    ¡°Sorry, but until I can properly pass this burden on, I am its keeper. I cannot be separated from this.¡± Yavin said sadly.

    ¡°I completely understand.¡± Darrik said through partially gritted teeth. ¡°Why don¡¯t you come to my family¡¯s estate this evening? We can work on it together. Where are you staying?¡±

    ¡°At Mar¡¯s place.¡± Yavin gestured to Mar, who was standing there with his arms crossed and scowling. Mar didn¡¯t want to tell Darrik where he lived but there wasn¡¯t really a way for him to wriggle out of this situation. Besides, Darrik could easily find out by himself if he wanted to by using his family¡¯s resources.

    ¡°Vernon apartment complex. Just off the corner of ¡­Dirtflea market¡± Mar said the name with a wince. The corner of Darrik¡¯s mouth twitched upward.

    ¡°I¡¯ll send a coach there. Though it I think I¡¯ll have to rent one. None of my families are small enough to fit through the tight paths around those parts. Does that section of the city even have access to the floating paths?¡±

    ¡°Limited access, but yes. Really there¡¯s no need for a coach though. She¡¯ll be here at the academy with me for a while. There¡¯s some work I need to do.¡±

    ¡°Very well. I¡¯ll pick you up here instead.¡± Darrik said.

    ¡°Alright. Thank you.¡± Yavin said shyly.

    ¡°Wonderful. Now then Verona, I¡¯m paying these mages by the hour to be your punching bags. Let¡¯s not give them too much of a brake.¡±

    Verona turned to Mar. ¡°I¡¯ll talk to you latter Mar. This is my last day to practice before the trials. I hope I can see you in the stands.¡±

    ¡°Yeah . . . I¡¯ll be right there cheering for you.¡± Mar replied, but Verona had already turned away. Darrik¡¯s arm still around her waist.

    Mar had no interest in staying and watching Verona spar. At least not while Darrik and company was around. In fact, Mar didn¡¯t think he liked any of Verona¡¯s magus ¡®friends¡¯. He¡¯d heard one or two of them derisively call her ¡®that elf-bitch¡¯ behind her back. It¡¯s a good thing they made sure Verona never was around to hear that insult. Mar was one of the few people who knew that she dyed her naturally sunny-blond hair jet black, to distance herself as much as possible from her sun-elf heritage.

    Mar glanced at her back, and Darrik¡¯s arm around it. If only he¡¯d been born a mage.

 The Gray Stone 5

    Darrik gave Verona a possessive squeeze as they walked off together. For a moment, he thought he saw her shiver under his touch. Darrik snickered to himself. The dumb low-born bitch must want it more then he thought.

    Verona spoke up. ¡°I wish you could get along with Mar. He¡¯s my oldest friend.¡±

    Darrik glared. ¡°We talked about this. I don¡¯t want you seeing him, ever. It¡¯s bad for our public image. We¡¯re betrothed now.¡±

    ¡°Yes, I know but-¡±

    ¡°No buts. I¡¯m sorry, but you know how strict my father is on this.¡± Darrik whispered apologetically, while inside he was grinning. A mage of Verona¡¯s caliber he couldn¡¯t dominate with his magical caliber alone. Oh, he was an excellent combat mage, but even Darrik wasn¡¯t fool enough to think he could take Verona in a straight fight.

    Darrik had thought swaying her to his cause would be harder than this, but as it happened growing up as a ward of the state with a single friend had left Verona with virtual no experience in politics and deception. Verona only knew magic. All Darrik had to do was cut her off from her old friends and surround her with his own network. Soon she¡¯d be moving in with him, and then all that destructive power she had at her fingertips would be his to wield. Not only that, but he¡¯d get a fine piece of ass to toy with whenever he wanted. Even if it was tainted by a little elvish blood. For now, he had to play the fianc¨¦ card, but once she was deep in his clutches he could drop the title and turn her into little more than a concubine who could kill people for him.

    Darrik noticed Verona was still talking.

    ¡°¡ªAnd I miss him a lot. As a friend, I mean. If only he had been born a mage.¡± Verona complained.

    Darrik asked a question with feigned interest. ¡°Why did you become friends with him then, knowing that without magic he was bound to a different destiny?¡±

    ¡°We both thought we were going to be mages. That¡¯s the reason why we were taken in as orphans. When the inquisitors went around testing all the infants for magical ability, both me and Mar broke their scales. According to their tests, both of us had such a high aptitude for magic it would be a waste to let us die or become street rats, so we lived here. On one of the buildings just off this very school.¡±

    ¡°But then what about Mar?¡± Darrik asked, slightly curious.

    ¡°For me, the tests were absolutely right. I hate bragging about it, but I have decent affinities across the elemental spectrum, and my aura can hold nearly thirty spells at any given time.¡±

    Having an aura that could hold thirty spells was considered huge, especially for a seventeen year old mage like Verona. Darrik¡¯s aura could only hold twelve spells at once, and that was considered larger than average for a third order mage.

    ¡°So, the tests were wrong?¡± Darrik frowned. ¡°But the tests are never wrong.¡±

    ¡°They were for Mar.¡± Verona replied.

    ¡°Bah. The kid must have found some way to cheat tests. He probably faked magical abilities so he could get free food and a bed, and eventually a free education.¡± Darrik had to admit such a scheme would be quite clever. It almost respect Mar. Almost.

    ¡°I don¡¯t think so.¡± Verona said quietly. ¡°That doesn¡¯t sound like him.¡±

    ¡°Alright, enough about Zar. Flar? Nar? Anyway, enough about him. Just promise me that you won¡¯t make my father break us up by embarrassing me with him.¡±

    Verona didn¡¯t say anything.

    ¡°Verona. You know how important this is. With my families backing you could become First Mage. That¡¯s a destiny within your grasp. You could never attain that if my father decided to cast you out for insulting the Pyrastern name. Besides, do you really want to get him involved in the dangerous life of high-level politics? You letting him go is for his own good.¡±

    Verona slowly nodded. ¡°Yes. You¡¯re right. I¡¯ll make it up to him once I¡¯ve claimed the title of First Mage. Once I have my foot in the senate I¡¯ll have to power to protect him.¡±

    ¡°Yes. Of course. Once we¡¯re married you¡¯ll have all the power of the Pyrastern family at your back.¡±

    ¡°Isn¡¯t your cousin the next person in line as head of the family?¡± Verona questioned.

    ¡°Things change my dear.¡± Darrik was grinning wildly now. It wouldn¡¯t be hard to arrange for his stupid prick of a cousin to get thrown into a duel with Verona, lecherous little creep that he was. With him out of the way, Darrik would have the entire Pyrastern family at his beck and call. Mostly. He¡¯d still have to wait a century or so before his uncle finally keeled over and died, but if he could break into the fourth order of magic and master at least one life extension spell it was very much possible.

    Or at least that had been his plan before, but now a new piece had practically fallen into his lap. The Warlock¡¯s Totem. To think that such a powerful object was in the hands of a dirty beastkin druid. And to have it sealed with crystal magic! Repairing the seal might be tricky, but Darrik was confident he could break it without a hitch. With a warlock¡¯s power, he could attain the fifth, sixth, even seventh order of magic. He could become among the most powerful men in the city. Maybe he wouldn¡¯t even need Verona after all. All he¡¯d need to do is bend one pesky spirit fragment to his will. Darrik had bent plenty of people to his will before. How much different could a demon be?

    ¡°Alright so you three this time?¡± Verona asked. Darrik noticed that the three mages he¡¯d hired to help Verona practiced were watching him grin like a madman. He quickly hid his smile with a scowl.

    ¡°I¡¯ll be back latter. I need to make arrangements back at my family¡¯s estate.¡±

    ¡°Preparing to help that druid out?¡± Verona asked.

    ¡°Yes. Yes I am.¡±

    Darrik hurried back to his family¡¯s estate. He spotted that puppet of his, Roy. Excellent. The easily manipulatable earth mage was paying his respects to his family¡¯s benefactor on a visit with his family. Mar was truly grateful that his uncle had saved that poor and dying noble line. Roy made excellent dumb muscle, though he was a bit too soft for Darrik¡¯s tastes. No matter though, he¡¯d harden up under a few months of Darrik¡¯s training.

    Darrik grabbed Roy by his tunic, pulling him away from his mother, who was making small talk with one of Darrik¡¯s less important aunts.

    ¡°Hello Roy. I need you.¡± Darrik said sternly. Roy looked at him with wide eyes and gulped. But he followed. Between his and Roy¡¯s magic, Darrik had no doubt that he could subdue the druid, but brought on two of his uncle¡¯s household guards who he knew to enjoy the extra coin he put in their pockets and knew how to keep their mouths shut.

    ¡°So, uh, you want me to trap this girl who¡¯s going to show up here?¡± Roy asked dumbly.

    Darrik rolled his eyes. ¡°Trap her, stab her, toss her underground until she suffocates. She doesn¡¯t matter. It¡¯s the package she¡¯s carrying that I want. Just make sure you get that to me intact.¡±

    ¡°Surely you don¡¯t to ki-kill her?¡± Roy stuttered nervously. One of the two guards snickered at him.

    ¡°Toughen up, Roy. You¡¯re going to have to do worse than this if you want to stay in my family¡¯s good graces. If we took away the mana stones we provide your family to distribute on our behalf, how long do you think it would be before you lost that proud ancestral home that your family has held for generations? Not long, I¡¯ll tell you that. And you know what Roy? It would be your fault. So get your act together and do as I say.¡±The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

    Roy nodded slowly.

    Darrik paced a hand on the trembling boys shoulder. ¡°Good man. And don¡¯t worry, you¡¯re just there for back up in case something goes wrong. Odds are all you¡¯re going to have to do is watch. Can you do that for me, Roy?¡± Darrik asked kindly.

    Roy took a deep breath. ¡°Okay. Whatever you say, boss.¡±

    Darrik smiled. ¡°Exactly. Whatever I say. That¡¯s an excellent attitude to have. Now, I¡¯m going to go send a carriage for our guest.¡±

    The arrangements were easy to make. All Darrik had to do was order one of the servants to see it done. That was one of the many benefits of choosing to be born into wealth.

    With his duties done for the time being, Darrik was able to seclude himself for a few minutes of privacy. He closed and locked the door to his private bedroom. Once the latch was shut he let the veneer of arrogance and contempt slip off him like distasteful gown soaked in mud and pig shit. His was a hard role to play, but it had to be done.

    He knelt down and clasped his hands together in prayer.

    ¡°My god, thank you for sending this gift my way. I have sent word to Wolfsdown. My plan will soon be complete, I will finally be able to destroy the abomination known as Mar.¡±

    Like a man ten times his age, Darrik stood up with a groan. He closed his eyes and the familiar distasteful expression that Darrik always wore in public returned to his face.

    Soon¡­

    <hr>

    ¡°No no, silly tall one.¡± Grob complained as he gently pushed Yavin¡¯s hands off to the side. ¡°Needs more work. Needs to be blended good.¡±

    Yavin glanced at Mar, silently asking for a translation.

    Mar obliged. ¡°Grob¡¯s saying it needs a few more minutes in the cauldron. You need to get the fibers of the paper to break down a little so they¡¯ll stick together.¡±

    Yavin stirred the caldron of papery gunk one last time. Grob took the wooden spoon from her and swished it around a little. Okay. It good. I show you how to pour it over the old. Need to make it smooth.¡±

    Mar chuckled. It was only a year ago that Mar was teaching Grob how to make paper, and now the goblin was teaching somebody else. Mar imagined that if it wasn¡¯t for the fact that he only had access to the small alchemy labs supplies and a single paper mold, Grob could probably churn out a hundred pages a day. Heck, if there were a hundred goblins like Grob then Mar would probably be able to supply the whole scribe¡¯s guild with all the low-quality paper they needed.

    Mar meanwhile was copying down the last bit of a book on artificing for a client of his, one of the artificer masters, Master Warric.

    Much like the paper he was working with, Mar¡¯s writing wasn¡¯t fancy. He couldn¡¯t do the illuminated letters and the fancy flourishes that a book produced by the scribe¡¯s guild had, but it Master Warric commissioned this work directly from him because Mar could do what the scribes guild wouldn¡¯t. And that was to compile a custom book from multiple sources. It was a fairly common request from Master Warric. He liked to make his students read, but usually only a dozen or so pages from any one book. That meant his students either had to go hunting throughout the library or buy dozens of different books.

    It was the same problem Master Warric had every year, so when Mar offered to hunt down all his favorite readings and combine them into a custom book that he could hand off to the scribe¡¯s guild to have copies made for all his student he leapt at the chance. And Mar was glad for it. Master Warric was his first and most reliable customer among the faculty, and work for him was part of when kept him off the streets after his food stipend was cut off when the magistrates found out there was no way he was going to be a mage.

    ¡°More paper done.¡± Grob dutifully handed off a piece of paper to Mar, where it was added to a rapidly growing pile. The goblin had just finished drying it off with a drying iron.

    Mar tossed Grob a piece of candy. ¡°You¡¯re making paper faster than I can write on it, Grob.¡± Mar replied with a smile. ¡°Grab the ink-filler on the shelf there for me please Grob.¡±

    Mar had the privilege of writing with a dwarven pen, specially manufactured to hold a tube filled with ink inside the pen itself, which meant Mar wasn¡¯t constantly having to dip his pen in an inkwell. It made his work go significantly faster and his hands significantly cleaner. Normally there¡¯s no way Mar would have been able to afford such a marvel, but this pen had been a gift from Master Warric, who had just returned from visiting his homeland in the dwarven mountains.

    Magical as it was, it still needed to be filled. Mar drew out the last of his ink by sucking it up through a straw. He held his thumb over the end until he had over the empty cartridge for his dwarven pen. Mar judged he had just enough paper to finish this job, but he¡¯d have to remember to buy more.

    ¡°So, Yavin, you¡¯re a druid, right?¡± Mar asked.

    Yavin nodded curiously. ¡°That¡¯s right.¡±

    ¡°What kind of spells can you cast? If you don¡¯t mind me asking that is?¡±

    ¡°I modified my aura to contain several combat spells, a shielding spell, and a night vision spell. Six of them in total.¡±

    Mar nodded appreciatively. ¡°Six spells total. And one of them a shielding spell you say? Even the weakest shielding spells are second tier spells. Between that and your spell capacity you must be second order.¡±

    ¡°I have herd your mages constantly boasting about what order they are. What does that mean?¡± Yavin asked.

    ¡°It¡¯s the ranking system we use in Orlem. First order mages can cast only the most basic spells, second order mages are competent spell casters, third order is where people about where someone of average talent maxes out after a lifetime of study. Beyond that you must be gifted or uniquely talented. Generally, second order mages are ten times as strong as first order, and third order mages are ten times as strong as a second order. It¡¯s a logarithmic thing. Of course, there¡¯s variation within the orders themselves. Two mages could both officially be in the third order, but one might be three times as powerful as the other.¡±

    Yavin frowned. ¡°You think I¡¯m only a competent spell caster?¡±

    ¡°Ah, well, I meant that as a complement really. You¡¯re a druid and don¡¯t have the benefit of schooling. Second order is quite impressive.¡±

    ¡°Hmf.¡± Yavin tilted her head away in disdain. ¡°Typical of city mages. They¡¯ve even convinced the rest of you that they¡¯re better spellcasters just because they can read and live in stone houses.¡±

    ¡°Sorry. It¡¯s just that¡­¡± Mar wasn¡¯t sure how to reply. Now that he thought about it what he said was pretty rude. She could be a fifth order spell caster for all he knew, limited to six spells only because she was using some really hire tier spell weaves.

    ¡°I¡¯ll forgive you.¡± Yavin said. ¡°If you answer a question of mine.¡±

    Mar nodded. ¡°Sure. What do you want to know?¡±

    ¡°Why did you get mad at me when we were talking to your friend Verona back there?¡±

    Mar recalled his earlier suspicion. Now that he wasn¡¯t stressed and emotional from dealing with Darrik and seeing Verona for the first time in a while he felt a little silly. ¡°I got it in my head that you might have been manipulating my mind with magic.¡± Mar confessed. ¡°Silly, I know. But I just got suspicious for some reason. You¡¯re not manipulating my mind with magic, are you?¡± Mar asked jokingly.

    Yavin looked troubled. ¡°Oh no. I would never do that. But I think¡­¡± Yavin clutched at the pouch around her neck where the grey stone was dangling. ¡°I think I really need be rid of this troublesome thing. And soon.¡±

    Mar was going to ask her a question when there was a tapping sound on the door to the alchemy lab. Mar wondered curiously who it could be. The reason he could use this alchemy lab was because the last master to use it was over a century dead. Everything in here was outdated and useless.

    ¡°I am looking for a Miss Yavin.¡± Came a gentlemanly voice muffled by the wood of the door.

    Yavin looked up. Mar walked over to the door and opened it. Behind it stood a man in a well pressed white silk shirt. His hands had fine leather gloves, he wore a tight-fitting vest and shiny black shoes. He looked exactly like a butler stereotype.

    ¡°Are you Miss Yavin?¡± The butler asked Mar in a dry, humorless tone. Mar looked at him incredulously. ¡°No? Then please step aside please.¡±

    The butler surveyed the room. ¡°Ah. There you are. You match the description I was given for Miss Yavin. Now come along, Master Darrik Pyrastern has requested your presence.¡±

    ¡°Already?¡± Yavin asked with surprise.

    ¡°Yes. Already, now please come with me.¡± The butler insisted.

    ¡°Uhm. I¡¯m not ready. I¡¯m all covered in paper pulp. Give me a moment to clean up and change.¡±

    The butler clicked his tongue. ¡°Very well. I will give you two minutes.¡±

    Yavin shut the door. ¡°I don¡¯t think I trust this Darrik.¡±

    Mar snorted. ¡°I told you. I knew you wouldn¡¯t like him.¡±

    ¡°I need him though. He¡¯s a crystal mage, and I need to repair the seal on this¡­ thing here.¡± Yavin gestured to the bag around her neck. ¡°I can¡¯t afford to refuse his offer just because I don¡¯t like him. That being said, I didn¡¯t get this far by not being careful. I need your help.¡±

    Mar put up his hands. ¡°No no, I¡¯m not going to Darrik¡¯s estate with you. Sorry, but seeing him once this morning was bad enough.¡±

    ¡°Mar please, this is important. If this totem falls into the wrong hands it could mean the deaths of thousands.¡±

    ¡°Darrik hates my guts. If I walk onto his family estate, surrounded by his retainers and friends it very well could mean my death.¡±

    Yavin sighed. ¡°Fine. You won¡¯t even need to go inside. Just¡­ Yavin slowly took the bag off from around her neck. She gingerly reached her hand inside and slipped out the grey stone. She wrapped it in a piece of paper Grob had just finished drying.

    ¡°Hey! That¡¯s mine!¡± Grob huffed.

    ¡°I just need to borrow this one.¡± Yavin replied. Once the stone was wrapped she sprinkled a bit of wax on it and sealed the package with her thumb. She handed it off to Mar. ¡°Just¡­ hang onto this for me.¡± Yavin slipped a regular grey stone inside her pouch. ¡°If Darrik is going to legitimately help me I¡¯ll be back for that. Just don¡¯t touch it or let it near anything magical.¡±

    ¡°O-okay.¡± Mar said slowly.

    ¡°Don¡¯t open it.¡± Yavin repeated meaningfully. Then she opened the door. ¡°Alright.¡± She said to the butler, who was waiting impatiently. ¡°Take me to Darrik.¡±

 The Gray Stone 6

    Mar tossed the simply wrapped package around in his hand. He held it up to his ear, but heard nothing. For a moment, he was tempted to connect it to his aura again, like he had before but that wouldn¡¯t be smart. Thinking back to last night, he wonders how he could have possibly thought it would be a good idea to connect an unknown enchantment to draw power directly from himself. The little grey stone had exactly matched his mana regeneration rate. If the stone¡¯s draw rate had been ever so slightly more, it very well could have killed him.

    And yet for some indiscernible reason Mar couldn¡¯t help but feel the nearly irresistible need to touch the stone. To feel it¡¯s cool weight on him. And maybe just give it the tiniest bit of mana¡­

    No. Mar realized that¡¯s what Yavin sealed the stone in wax for. He had to remind himself that this was a warlock¡¯s totem. Inside was a fragment of a powerful and malevolent spirit that would do anything to control him. If anything was casting mind magic, it was this stone.

    Yavin clearly didn¡¯t want him to touch the stone itself. That¡¯s why she wrapped it in paper and sealed it with wax and her own thumb print. She¡¯d know if Mar opened it.

    Mar pocketed the stone. Grob had glanced up from his paper making briefly to glance at him.

    ¡°Why would Darrik offer to help her?¡± Mar mused to himself. ¡°He isn¡¯t exactly the generous type.¡±

    Grob, thinking Mar was talking to him, shrugged his shoulders. He¡¯d just learned that human gesture and was using it a lot. ¡°I no know, chief. Maybe he¡¯s not helping her? Maybe he helping himself.¡±

    Suddenly it clicked with Mar. Thinking back, Darrik had seemed to be somewhat enthralled by the warlock¡¯s totem. But even Darrik wouldn¡¯t be stupid enough to go warlock. The inquisitors would hunt him down for sure.

    Or maybe he was stupid enough to do just that. Suddenly a thought sprung to Mar¡¯s mind. What if he gave Darrik the warlock¡¯s totem? And then shortly thereafter once he used the thing Mar would rat him out to the inquisitors, who would get him out of Mar¡¯s hair forever. It was a tempting idea, but Mar realized it was just a fantasy. He wasn¡¯t the kind of person who could plot and scheme like that.

    For some reason Mar couldn¡¯t stop thinking about Yavin and here upcoming meeting with Darrik. He was so stressed he pressed far too hard with his pen while writing, causing ink to spill out everywhere all over his page. Mar had to throw it in the trash, which annoyed Grob slightly, seeing as how he had just made that sheet of paper.

    Mar reached for his ink bottle, but then remembered he had just used the last of it.

    ¡°Damn it, out of ink. I¡¯ll be right back Grob. Lock the door and don¡¯t let anybody in except for me. And Yavin I suppose. I¡¯m trusting you not to burn the place down.¡± Normally Mar wouldn¡¯t have left the goblin alone with an open fire like the kind normally used to heat the cauldron Grob was stirring his paper pulp into, but Grob had managed all day without any guidance from Mar. It seems the creature was as good at making paper as Mar himself.

    ¡°Yes chief. All will be well with Grob in charge.¡± Grob jabbed a stubby thumb at his own hunched chest.

    ¡°Alright. Time to buy ink.¡± Mar muttered to himself as he walked to the edge of the academy. He stepped onto a circular disk that was part of the Floating Path network around the city. It quickly brought Mar up to about two stories above the ground.

    ¡°The golden pen street.¡± Mar instructed, and the spell obliged.

    Normally Mar bought his ink cheap at Dirtflea market at heavily discounted prices, but that wasn¡¯t always a reliable source. In a pinch, Mar would use the shops downtown or suppliers from the scribe¡¯s guild. The golden pen street however was somewhere he¡¯d only ever window shopped though. Virtually everything sold there was far outside his price range. His clothes alone would look out of place walking down the street. Not to mention arriving on the Floating Paths to a place where virtually everyone had private carriages.

    The real reason Mar was headed to the golden pen street was that it was just a short walk from the Floating Paths drop-off point to the Pyrastern family estate.

    Mar glanced to his left where the ink makers store was, but his feet had already carried him past it.

    ¡°What am I doing¡­¡± Mar mumbled to himself.

    It wasn¡¯t long before he came to outer gates that the truly wealthy put around their homes. It was like a palace, complete with gardens, towering spires, and armed guards.

    One of those armed guards glanced at Mar. He jerked his head to the side meaningfully, as if to say, ¡®Get out of here¡¯.

    That was almost the end of it, but Mar could see vaguely though the gates that a carriage had recently arrived and a young woman in a familiar jacket was being escorted by haughty butler. That was Yavin.

    Mar approached the guard, who glared menacingly at him.

    ¡°Excuse me.¡± Mar said.

    ¡°What business do you have here?¡± the guard demanded. The faceless, mask like helmet bearing the Pyrastern family crest was quite intimidating.

    ¡°Ah, err. Well I have a¡ª¡± Mar stuttered.

    ¡°I wasn¡¯t informed that were to be any visitors.¡±

    Mar calmed himself. This was just like all the other times he had lied growing up. Being an orphan of the state, Mar could lie to civil servants as well as most children to lie to their parents.

    ¡°This isn¡¯t something to trouble one of the Pyrastern¡¯s about.¡± Mar said. ¡°I was hired by one of the branch family heads. To do some scribes work, you see.¡±

    The guard looked Mar up and down. He noticed the splotches of ink on his clothes and fingertips and nodded to himself.

    ¡°Ah yes. Actually, I do think I remember the captain saying something like that.¡±

    Mar hid his surprise at his own good fortune.

    ¡°Come along, follow me.¡± The guard demanded. ¡°Walsh, cover my post.¡± Another guard took the place the original guard had been standing in. ¡°This way to the armory.¡±

    Mar followed. The guard opened the door leading inside a dimly lit building.

    ¡°Right then. This is the outer armory. It¡¯s were all the lower ranked guards store their equipment. Everything that isn¡¯t fit for duty has been marked. You¡¯re to take inventory and catalog everything in here. Turn your work over to the captain when you¡¯re done for your payment.¡± The guard turned and left.

    Mar looked around at the dark, dimly lit armory. This wasn¡¯t a very good situation to be in. He was fine for now, but when the real scribe showed up there would be some awkward questions. Mar wondered if he could just do the work as the guard had instructed him, and then leave the estate as if nothing had happened. He dismissed that thought though. Luckily the guard hadn¡¯t noticed that Mar didn¡¯t have a pen, paper, or ink on him.

    Then he saw rows of uniforms on the wall, complete with the faceless helmets. Mar tried one on. It fit quite well. He examined his reflection in polish surface of one of the bucklers on the wall. Mar looked exactly like the guards out front. Nodding to himself, Mar took a cautious step out of the armory. He looked around. Nobody was so much as glancing at him. And why would they? A guard coming out of the armory was perfectly commonplace. Nevertheless, he would have to be certain to steer clear of the other guards, since they might realize something was afoot. Leaving through the front entrance would be impossible.

    Mar had to step out of the way as an identically dressed guard hustled by him. Mar briefly wondered why he was in such a hurry but shrugged it off. He had to find Yavin.

    It didn¡¯t take long for Mar to find the door that Yavin and the butler had disappeared into. Luckily it was a back entrance that led directly to a flight of stairs going downward. Mar followed it and came to a sudden stop when a hand grabbed him by the arm and pulled him behind a stack of barrels.

    ¡°Hope you had a nice leisurely shit, the parties about to start. Keep quiet. Targets coming through.¡±

    Mar kept quiet. This was the second time in the last hour that somebody had mistaken him for somebody else in the last hour, and he wasn¡¯t about to test his luck. Mar copied the other guard and peered through a gap between barrels. In the corner, ahead of him he spotted Darrik Pyrastern scribbling away at something with a pen on his desk.

    Just then door flung open. ¡°Apologies for the wait young Miss Yavin. Master Darrik is just around this corner.¡± The speaker was the haughty butler who Mar had met earlier, though he was acting considerably more civil now.

    ¡°Welcome Yavin¡± Darrik said jovially. He clapped his hands together. ¡°This is my little workshop. It has everything we need for me to repair the seal on that warlock¡¯s totem of yours.¡± He held out his hands, waiting. Yavin reached to the pouch around her neck and withdrew the smooth grey stone Mar had watched her place there. Yavin put the stone into Darrik¡¯s waiting hands.

    ¡°Wonderful. This will accelerate my plans immensely.¡± Darrik cackled, the friendly persona he¡¯d put on sliding off his face. ¡°Good. Now get rid of her.¡± Darrik waved his hand without paying attention.

    Mar noticed that the guard next to him had a crossbow pointed through a gap between the barrels. He held it steady and was just starting to breath outward to steady his breathing before he pressed the trigger.

    Mar leaned over and gave the man a shove just as he was about to fire. The crossbow bolt shot off, missing Yavin by a wide mark and embedding itself between two cracked wall tiles. Yavin jumped back in surprise.

    ¡°You blasted idiots.¡± Darrik yelled. ¡°Can¡¯t even aim properly from ten feet away with a clear shot. Roy, you¡¯re up.¡±

    Yavin glanced at the quivering crossbow bolt, then back to Darrik. She reached out and slapped the stone out of Darrik¡¯s hands.

    ¡°What are you waiting for Roy! Use your damn magic!¡± Darrik commanded.

    Stone shot up from the floor beneath Yavin, binding her feet to the ground. She struggled briefly. She turned to Darrik and taunted ¡°You think you have the power to tame that stone? Ha, it will devour you before the night is through!¡±

    Darrik had an annoyed expression. ¡°I meant kill her Roy. She¡¯s of no use to me. I can¡¯t even force her to teach me her spells. Druid mumbo jumbo is primitive and impossible to learn.¡±

    Yavin was muttering something under her breath. Suddenly the ground beneath her quaked and the stone that had grown over her feet cracked. She thrust out her hands at a surprised looking Darrik and he was blasted back towards the wall. When he struck it there was a painful cracking sound.

    Darrik¡¯s eyes widened in surprise. He opened his mouth and howled out the words to his spell

    ¡°Harkavach nitarochess!¡± The guttural hissing words would sound like nonsense to most but to those familiar with fire magic knew it to be the old language of the flame elementals. Darrik took a deep breath, chest puffing out. With a snarl, he opened his mouth. out of it spilled torrent of fire. Mar ducked behind the barrels but even there he could feel the burning heat. He could only imagine how Yavin was faring in the heart of the blast.

    When the torrent died down though, Yavin was unfazed. She met Darrik¡¯s hostile gaze and shouted the trigger words to one of her own spells.The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    ¡°Reehaaa Va¡¯hatar!¡± Yavin shouted in a breathy voice that sounded almost like wind passing through tree branches deep in the forest. Two of Yavin¡¯s fingers began to glow with a pale swirling energy as wind wrapped around them. She curled her hand into a fist and took a step towards Darrik, but was stopped in her tracks when she looked down and realized that the earth at her feet had turned to mud which was rapidly crawling up her legs.

    Yavin grimaced and with an open palm stretch the air by her waist as she released the power of the spell. A gust of wind shot from her hand, blowing the mud off her legs and from around her and scattering it all over the room. Mar had to duck to avoid getting a clump of it in his eyes. The guard next to him who was furiously reloading his crossbow wasn¡¯t so quick.

    Her counter-attack spent, Yavin was vulnerable. Darrik hadn¡¯t been idle and between his fingers arched streams of electricity. He splayed his fingers outward and the electric energy grew brighter. Then he shoved them in Yavin¡¯s direction, where they streamed menacingly through the air. Yavin desperately began casting a defensive spell. She crossed her arms in front of her as the lightning bolt struck, scorching her arms, but still standing.

    ¡°Don¡¯t just stand there! Shoot her¡± Darrik demanded, a slight note of desperation in his voice. The guard on Mar¡¯s right leveled his crossbow at Yavin, preparing to fire.

    Just then another guard stumbled in, helmet still in his hand. The same one who had rushed by Mar just a few minutes earlier.

    ¡°I¡¯m back. Am I late?¡± He glanced at the scene in front of him ¡°I¡¯m, late aren¡¯t I?¡± He asked nobody in particular. ¡°Hey, wait, who the hell are you?¡± The guard demanded of Mar.

    Mar replied by stripping off his own helmet and bashing it over the top of the surprised guards unprotected head. The man stumbled for a moment in a daze before tripping over his own feet and falling to the floor. The other guard turned his loaded crossbow at Mar¡¯s now unprotected head, but just as it was about to connect Yavin flicked it out of the way with magic.

    With another flick, the wall of stone started moving with a horrible screech, forming into the shape of a giant open stone claw which grabbed the guard as he tried to scramble away, crushing the crossbow into broken splinters as it wrapped around his torso and pinned him to the ground.

    Then Yavin turned to Mar in his disguise. For a moment, she seemed like she was about to use her magic on him at first but then she hesitated. Her angry grimace faded a little and it seemed like she was about to ask a question.

    Yavin looked around, her eyes locking on an empty patch of wall. She activated the spell she had used to free herself, causing that portion of the wall to crack and crumble. Out of it stumbled a dizzy looking Roy. She reached down and grabbed him by the scruff the collar of his shirt with strength that proved her beastkin heritage. She lifted him into the air and threw him over a pillar that sprang from the floor on her command.

    Roy had a panicked look on his face. He tried to mutter something under his breath but Yavin directed the stone pillar to jerk violently from his gut, punching the air from his lungs.

    Yavin surrounded him with stone, pinning him to in place just as he had tried to do to Yavin moments before. Then she turned to face Darrik, but to her surprise there was nothing but empty floor. Darrik had vanished in thin air. Some sort of short range teleportation magic.

    ¡°Coward.¡± Yavin mocked. ¡°Soon as the battle starts going south he fled.¡± She turned to Mar.

    ¡°Mar? Is that you?¡± Yavin asked.

    Mar turned to face her.

    ¡°You came!¡± Yavin smiled.

    Mar shrugged. ¡°It was really more of an accident than anything else, I just sort of stumbled in here. Not really sure how it happened. Besides it sure didn¡¯t seem you needed any help. I should take back what I said about you being a second order mage. For that level of spell manipulation, you¡¯ve got to be fourth order!¡±

    Yavin ¡°I¡¯ve never really understood the classification system city mages use, but I¡¯ll assume that was a compliment. But as nice as your compliments are, we need to get out of here.¡±

    ¡°Already ahead of you.¡± Mar replied. He was stripping the uniform off the guard that he had hit with his helmet. He tossed the wrinkly uniform to Yavin, along with the helmet. ¡°I walked right in here in this uniform. Hopefully we can walk out in the same.¡±

    Yavin sniffed the uniform and held it at arm¡¯s length in disgust. Nevertheless, she put it on while Mar switched out his helmet for one without a forehead-shaped dent.

    ¡°I will teleport us out of here.¡± Yavin stated.

    ¡°Teleportation magic? That¡¯s fourth order spellwork. I don¡¯t think we have the time for a ritual.¡± Mar replied.

    ¡°No ritual. I just need a minute of focus.¡± Yavin furrowed her brow in concentration.

    Mar was surprised to find out his suspicious were right. To be able to cast a fourth order spell without a ritual meant that Yavin was at least a mage of that caliber, if not stronger.

    But then Yavin let out a defeated sigh. ¡°It¡¯s not working. I think they have the estate warded against teleportation magic. Once we get outside the walls though we should be able to take us halfway across the city.¡±

    ¡°Alright.¡± Mar said with a nod. ¡°We¡¯ll just have to get out of here the mundane way.¡±

    Mar grabbed Yavin¡¯s arm as soon as she finished dressing herself in the downed guards uniform. ¡°This way. Darrik may have chickened out of fighting you but he¡¯s a petty bastard and I¡¯d wager it isn¡¯t long before he sounds an alarm.¡±

    Just then, a loud ringing noise sounded out above them. As Mar and Yavin opened the door to the outside they were greeted hurried chaos as Pyrastern family guards ran across the estate grounds while servants and housekeepers rushed into the nearest buildings to wait out whatever the cause of this commotion was.

    There was some sense in the chaos though. It wasn¡¯t unheard of for other families playing on the same level of politics as the Pyrasterns to hire assassins or thieves to hurt their rivals. Apparently though it had been a long time since these particular guards had to deal with such things, otherwise Mar would never have been able to sneak in.

    ¡°This way!¡± Mar repeated. He had to let go of Yavin¡¯s arm so they wouldn¡¯t look strange, but they were making good progress. Thank the gods that the Pyrasterns invested in faceless helmets for their household guards. Tinted enchanted glass wasn¡¯t cheap but had a built-in mana visualization enchantment so even mundanes like Mar could tell when spells were being cast. More importantly though, it had the wonderfully convenient effect of completely obscuring the wearers face. Nobody looked twice at Mar and Yavin.

    Mar and Yavin were almost to the front entrance. Mar¡¯s heart lifted in his chest when he noticed that the guard keeping watch over the entrance had abandon his post to see what all the commotion was about. Just as they were about to slink past however a familiar voice rang out.

    ¡°There they are! Those two guards! Stop them¡± Darrik shouted from two stories up in the air. He was pointing right at Mar and Yavin.

    One of the Pyrastern family guards leapt off the head height walls surrounding the estate, clearly intending on jumping on Mar¡¯s back and bringing him down. Mar was just a barely fast enough to dodge the incoming collision, a. The guard landed on the ground, where Mar quickly kicked his feet out from under him. The man tried to draw his short sword while he scrambled to his feet, but Mar planted his foot firmly in the center of the man¡¯s chest and tore the guard¡¯s short sword out of its scabbard and into his own hand.

    Yavin was not idle. She was chanting the words to a powerful shielding spell. She created a wall of partially transparent crystallized earth that stood twice Mar¡¯s height. Just in time too, for a moment latter another one of Darrik¡¯s fireballs plowed into it, sending waves of heat scattering in all directions. Another guard tried to approach from the back. He leapt out from behind cover with a crossbow readied and aimed at Yavin¡¯s back. He was clearly intent on taking out the magic caster while her attention was diverted. Mar leapt on him and tackled him to the ground before he could fire.

    The man struggled desperately, but to his surprise Mar found he was overpowering the slimly built guard. He must be stronger then he thought. Mar grinned as he tore the crossbow from his opponent¡¯s hands and grinned wildly as the knocked the guard out with a punch to the face.

    A short sword in one hand and a loaded crossbow in the other, Mar leapt to his feet and took a position to guard Yavin¡¯s back. Three guards were approaching in a group now, with somebody who looked like they were a minor branch family mage standing behind them in a protected position. The mage tried to cast a spell, but Mar leveled his crossbow at the man. The words caught in the mages mouth, but with a stutter he restarted. Mar tried to get a clear shot, but two of the guards in front had position their shields in front of the chanting mage.

    Mar couldn¡¯t get a clear shirt. He glanced back behind him briefly to realize that Yavin was holding off Darrik and to more unknown fire mages in a defensive battle of magic. It looked like she was doing all she could to hold her position, so Mar couldn¡¯t expect any aid from her.

    Mar shot his crossbow. As expected, the bolt hit one of the guardsman¡¯s shields with a thud. What they didn¡¯t expect though was for Mar to follow up his initial shot with another projectile, which hit the guard directly in the face. It might have done some serious damage if not for the fact that he was wearing a helmet with a full faceplate. Mar had thrown the crossbow itself at him.

    While the guard was still recovering from the thrown crossbow, Mar rapidly closed the distance. One of the guards lunged at Mar with a spear with speed he didn¡¯t know he had he dodged to the side. A clumsy sword swing from the other guard was easily blocked. Mar lunged, his sword point first. It collided with a raised shield with a metallic ding. Mar dodged the return strike, then closed the distance further until he was within grappling range. The man dropped his shield and tried to grab Mar, but Mar twisted and writhed until he had impaled the guards hand with the blade of his short sword. The guard howled in pain. Mar quickly withdrew the weapon and a fountain of blood strayed him. Mar reached behind the wounded guard and smacked him on the back of the head with the hilt of his sword. He collapsed to the ground like a puppet with its strings cut.

    Mar ran forward, dealing with a second guard using the same technique. It felt so natural to him, the movements as simple as breathing. He turned to the spellcaster. Before the man could finish his chanting and activate whatever spell he had been preparing, Mar ruthlessly slashed him across the chest with his short sword. While not immediately fatal, that was certain to leave a nasty scar. Seeing the mage and his comrades¡¯ down, the third guard turned tail and ran.

    Mar grinned viciously. Why had nobody ever told him that fighting was this much fun? He felt so exhilarated. He¡¯d just gotten the better of four opponents by himself! If Mar had known he was so talented before he would have left Orlem to join an adventuring guild, rather than staying at the school and becoming a historian.

    Mar felt an acute burning sensation in his pocket. He reached inside and found the grey stone was hot to the touch, despite the paper Yavin had wrapped around it. The ink sealing the paper shut had melted and was dribbling down Mar¡¯s leg. Mar adjusted the stone slightly and then hefted his short sword. It felt so natural in his hands, and he wasn¡¯t sure why, but he liked it.

    Mar turned back towards Yavin, who was still desperately holding up her shield against the Pyrastern mages. Mar had cleared the way forward. While the Pyrastern¡¯s could do as they wished on their own private estate, the public streets of Orlem were a different matter and randomly attacking citizens was frowned upon. Mar had no doubt that the Pyrasters had the influence needed to bring Orlem¡¯s own defenders into this, but he was confident the red tape of bureaucracy would slow them down enough for him to do something. Besides, Mar realized that he¡¯d been wearing the helmet for most of the time he was there. Only the two guards at the gate had seen his face and they would probably figure that the scribe had fled at the first sign of danger, as scribes were prone to doing. Once they were out in the city he could lose them.

    ¡°The way is clear, let¡¯s run!¡± Mar shouted to Yavin. She turned to face him, and the moment she took the slightest bit of attention of her magic shield spider web cracks began to form in it. Yavin ignored her failing spell, and began running towards Mar. It would hold for a few seconds more. Long enough for them to get out of there.

    ¡°I will cast the teleportation spell! We just need to get clear of the walls!¡± Yavin shouted as she abandoned her wall of crystallized earth. The cracks spread halfway across the wall and Mar could tell it would only buy them a few seconds more. Mar had made it outside the walls, but Yavin was a few steps behind.

    Nearing the edge of the Pyrastern estate, Yavin closed her eyes and whispered, preparing to activate the trigger for the teleportation spell she had prepared.

    Just as Yavin had one foot across the threshold, a burst of magic so powerful even a mundane like Mar could feel it. Somebody had just teleported inside the walls of the estate, overpowering the wards.

    ¡°Who dares attack my home!¡± Sounded a loud and imposing voice.

    ¡°Shit.¡± Mar whispered. He¡¯d heart that voice before. He¡¯d given the commencement speech during Mar and Darrik¡¯s first year and he was one of the senate¡¯s most prominent members. It was Darrik¡¯s uncle, Lord Pyrastern. Member of the High Senate, and a sixth order mage. His kind were called exalted mages for a reason, there were only five other mages of his level in all Orlem, and Orlem had the densest population of powerful mages in all the world. In any other country, that kind of power would be enough for him to crown himself king.

    ¡°Uncle! They stole something from me. A black stone!¡± Darrik called out to his uncle, who was hovering in midair as electricity streamed from his fingertips.

    Lord Pyrastern looked their way.

    Yavin crossed the threshold and finished the final words to her teleportation spell. She grabbed Mar¡¯s arm, preparing to teleport them away.

    ¡°I think not.¡± Lord Pyrastern commanded. Instantly both Mar and Yavin were frozen in place.

    Yavin started shaking. It took her a few moments, but she was able to hiss a word out despite the paralysis spell. A rock lifted unsteadily from the ground and shot lazily towards Lord Pyrastern.

    ¡°You¡¯ll have to do better than that, child.¡± Lord Pyrastern said as he held out his hand, smashing the stone to dust in an instant.

    But that was only one part of Yavin¡¯s plan. The stone was unusual in composition. More compact dirt then stone. The dust spread throughout the air, obscuring vision and buying Yavin a few moments to work herself free from the paralysis spell.

    Suddenly, Mar felt his pocket grow warm and the paralysis spell around him seemed to weaken as if it were falling apart. Mar found he could move his lips.

    ¡°Can you teleport us out of here?¡± He whispered to Yavin.¡±

    ¡°Not us.¡± Yavin replied with a sad smile. ¡°Give me the stone.¡±

    Mar reached into his pocket and pulled out the stone, still wrapped in paper, the same as when Yavin had given it to him. She tore the paper open and plucked out the stone.

    He held it up to her lips and it began to glow with power. ¡°Just one last time. Help me do this thing. Yes, the deal is struck.¡±

    There was a whirring in the air and through the magical sight provided by the helmets visor, Mar was able to watch as Yavin¡¯s aura was twisted unnaturally, instantly changed to a new configuration in seconds rather then days. When it was finished, Yavin had only a single spell equipped and at her disposal. The swirling complex patters of the spellweave were too complex for Mar to understand with his limited understanding of spell theory, but he could tell at a glance that it was very powerful. The intangible runes imprinted on Yavin¡¯s aura hummed with energy, which flooded from both the stone and her center, eveloping Mar.

    ¡°Take good care of that Mar. You wouldn¡¯t believe the damage it can sow in the wrong hands. It will tear your mind apart and turn you into a puppet if you let it, so don¡¯t use it unless absolutely necessary. I¡¯ll find you if I can, if not¡­ then you¡¯re the stone¡¯s keeper, until you can pass it on to someone else. It will be more dangerous then ever before, now that the seal is fully removed.¡±

    Yavin gently placed the gray stone in Mar¡¯s hands. It was hot to the touch.

    ¡°Take good care of that stone Mar. I can tell it¡¯s taken a liking to you. Just remember it wants to eat your soul!¡±

    ¡°Wait Yavin no-¡± But Mar was cut off. Magic swirled around him for a moment. Then suddenly he was somewhere else completely. Yavin had teleported him away.

 The Gray Stone 7

    Mar blinked away the lights that streamed across his vision. When his eyes cleared enough for him to figure out where he was he realized that he was standing the middle of the alchemy lab, with a bewildered looking Grob staring at him in surprise.

    ¡°Boss! There be a big poof! And then you there!¡± The goblin stuttered in surprise. ¡°You sure you, and not one of the creepy crawlies?¡± Grob was referring to a parasite that infected humans and other sentient lifeforms, eating them from the inside and wearing their victim¡¯s skins as a disguise. If you let the hang around long enough they became fully fledged shape-shifters. There had been an outbreak scare in Orlem a few years back, luckily the mages were able to identify and destroy the imposters before they were fully developed and really started spreading. Unfortunately for Grob, during the extermination process one of the parasites that had identified and obtained for experimentation broke out and escaped by infected a goblin in Grob¡¯s tribe, who were also in captivity for experimentation purposes. By the time anyone had figured out what happened the creature had eaten half their number.

    ¡°I¡¯m not a doppelganger, Grob. Or a naaldoshii. Rest easy.¡± Mar patted the goblin¡¯s head.

    Mar took a deep breath, remembering what had just transpired prior to his teleportation. He¡¯d gone to the Pyrastern estate, snuck right under Darrik¡¯s nose, foiled an assassination against Yavin, and then fought his way free with Yavin. Except Yavin didn¡¯t make it. There was no way she would have, not with a mage like Lord Pyrastern against her. It was a miracle that she was even able to teleport Mar away, although that may have had less to do with Yavin¡¯s power and more to do with the warlock totem¡¯s.

    Mar reached into his pocket and pulled out the stone. Its bare surface was cool to the touch. He wanted to smash the stone on the ground. He¡¯d been acting erratically ever since he came into contact with it, and it was clear now that this stone was to blame. It had to have been tampering with his mind.

    Why had he been so willing to help Yavin, a total stranger? The stone must have been to blame. Why did he go out of his way to introduce her to Verona? Because the stone was probably looking for another powerful mage as a host. Why had he run after Yavin when he¡¯d known she was in danger? The stone wanted the seal binding it fully unlocked, and only Yavin was familiar enough with it to remove it. All those changes were subtle, and Mar probably would have missed them, but that fight with those three guards had been too blatant.

    There was simply no way a bookwork historian with no combat experience should have been able to take down three professional guards with such ease. He¡¯d felt as if he had been fighting with a sword for a lifetime. Perhaps several lifetimes. It was well known that warlocks possessed such physical power. The totem contained all the combined knowledge and power of all the souls it had previously absorbed after all.

    Mar placed it on the table. What the hell had he gotten himself into? He was safe for now, as far as he knew nobody at the Pyrastern estate had seen his face, but it was only a matter of time before either Darrik remembered his connection to Yavin or they managed to make Yavin tell them what she¡¯d done with the stone. Either way they would be lead straight to Mar. He needed to get out of the city as fast as possible.

    Where would he go? East maybe? Into the lands of the Empire? That was where all fugitives from Orlem and its subordinate cities left for. Maybe that was too obvious though. He wanted to lay low, and there was nowhere better than out west.

    This wasn¡¯t the first time Mar had thought of leaving Orlem. Each time he had refuted the idea for the same reason. Verona. He¡¯d entertained the dream of a life with her ever since they were children, but she seemed to be slipping further away with every passing day. It seemed like only yesterday the two had been childhood friends at the orphanage. It seemed only yesterday to him that he and her had promised to build a shining city, like the founding mother and father of Orlem did in legend. Those were beautiful days, but now it often seemed like that girl he used to know was gone.

    He doubted Verona even remembered their time together. She was living the dream. At seventeen, she was one of the most gifted young mages in all Orlem, a top contender to win this year¡¯s trials. She could be the face of this generations mages, and the highest heights of power were open for her. And yet here was Mar¡­ a mediocre history student and part time tutor.

    He¡¯d fretted over what could have been long enough. They weren¡¯t children anymore and Verona lived in a different world from him. It was time he left Orlem. There was nothing more for him here.

    Maybe he could become an adventurer. Slaying beasts and collecting mana stones for money. The idea of undercutting Darrik Pyrastern¡¯s family business sat well with him. And maybe after a bit of training he could sign on with a party and go dungeoneering!

    And maybe, if he became a truly successful adventurer he¡¯d collect so much wealth and artifacts of power that Orlem would be in awe of him, magic or no.

    ¡°Grob, I think I¡¯m going to leave Orlem soon.¡±

    Grob glanced up from the mold he was pouring paper into. ¡°But boss! Where will be get the candy!¡± Grob complained.

    Mar smiled. ¡°Sorry Grob, you¡¯re going to have to find somebody else to work for. Maybe one of the scribes will want your paper maybe¡ª¡± But Grob waved his hands to interrupt him. That was very unusual. Goblins had a strict hierarchy and Grob viewed Mar as his tribal leader. It was unusual for him to not show subservience.

    ¡°No no boss! I go with you!¡± Grob nearly shouted.

    Mar shook his head. ¡°Sorry Grob, but I need to go underground. I¡¯d stick out like a sore thumb with you following me around.¡±

    ¡°Grob very good at staying underground. Grob lives in the sewers after all. And Grob is very sneaky. Most big clumsy humans never see me. I follow you quiet-like.¡±

    Mar sighed in exasperation. Arguing with a goblin would require more energy than he had. He¡¯d just buy a box of food for the green guy and leave without telling him. He should pack up his stuff in the alchemy lab. He didn¡¯t own much stuff, and didn¡¯t have much in the way of coin, but money went a lot further out on the frontier then it did in the heart of civilization.

    But then Mar remembered most of his money was tied up with his current work for Master Warric. He wouldn¡¯t be able to afford the portal fees, let alone living expenses. The old dwarf paid well, but insisted on quality book bindings. Even buying paper making supplies and having Grob make the paper instead of purchasing paper outright cost Mar quite a bit. He¡¯d triple his money once Master Warric paid him though.

    Mar would have to put off departure until after he was paid later today. He needed at least five golden denarii to pay the portal fees, and Mar estimated he¡¯d need at least five more to pay his living expenses while he looked for work. He needed to finish the last section of the final book Master Warric wanted so he could get paid. The Pyrastern¡¯s wouldn¡¯t be able to do anything to him so soon. He would be safe for today at least. Besides, he would need to wait for the evening portals to open before he could get anywhere reasonably far from Orlem.

    Mar sat down at the table, reaching into his drawer and pulling out his pen. He opened to the page he was writing and flipped open the book he was referencing from. He tried to scribble out some words but nothing came out of his pen. Then he remembered why he left in the first place. He still needed ink.

    Mar made a short trip to one of the many shops that lined the street on the way up to Orlem¡¯s school of magic. Many of them were in business exclusively because of the patronage of the wealthy mages who attended the school, and as a result many of the catered to whatever a student of magic would need. Flasks, vials, sulfur, chalk, animal bones, lizard blood, eye of newt, anything a young mage might need. Thankfully paper and ink were also on that list. Although attempts had been made, mages had yet to come up with a spell that would replace taking notes.

    Luckily Mar only needed kind of ink that was strictly for writing, and thus was the cheapest available. Just as Mar had finished haggling the price down to three copper denarii and a ream of Grob¡¯s paper, he felt a heavy hand clap him on the shoulder.

    Mar turned around, not seeing anyone at first. He looked down though, and there was a burly dwarf wearing gold tinted brass goggles. They were a popular tool for arcanist. They had a magic visualization enchantment active in them, like the one used to allow mundane individuals to perceive unformed spells, except these were used boy someone who was themselves a mage so they could observe spell-weaves with much greater accuracy then they otherwise would be able to do. They were also very sturdy, and have saved many an eye after an experiment went wrong. Arcanists and alchemists sometimes wore them all the time. They were as distinctive a mark of their trade as a battle staff or war wand would be to a battle mage.

    It took Mar a second, but he recognized the dwarf under the goggles. It was Master Warric, the teacher who had commissioned the project Mar was currently working on.

    ¡°Mar my boy! How are you this fine day?¡± The dwarf asked in the boisterous voice stereotypically attributed to dwarfs.Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators!

    ¡°Oh, just fine Master Warric. I just had to buy some ink.¡±

    Master Warric nodded. ¡°Tell me, how¡¯s that fountain pen working out for you?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s wonderful. You wouldn¡¯t think it, but not having to dip into an inkwell saves a lot of time. And prevents a lot of smears trying to get the ink to run cleanly. It is truly an ingenious dwarven invention.¡± Mar commented truthfully.

    Master Warric laughed. ¡°I¡¯ll pass your complements onto my cousin. He¡¯s wanted to scale up production of the things for nearly a century now. Could never get the clan to fund it though. It¡¯s always been a low-volume thing.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sure if you could get one of the major scribe guilds to start using them there¡¯d be plenty of market space in the human lands.¡±

    Master Warric huffed. ¡°Yes, I have little doubt that you humans would take them up in a few decades. Unfortunately, anything we make has to be popular at home before we scale up to sell abroad, and my people can be remarkably stubborn.¡±

    ¡°Well whatever your people do, it works. I¡¯ve never seen the golden cities of the dwarves, but from the tales it seems the streets a hewn from gold.¡±

    Master Warric snorted. ¡°My people also have a habit of boasting. While it¡¯s true our cities are very rich, they¡¯re not nearly as large as even a decent sized human city. And a city like Orlem, possibly the largest city in the world, probably has as much gold flowing though it every day as even the best dwarven cities.¡±

    ¡°Well, Orlem is an exception.¡± Mar said in reply.

    ¡°Yes, there¡¯s no perfect way to compare, since dwarven culture is fundamentally different from human culture after all. But back on the topic of production, how are those books I commissioned coming along? I assume they¡¯ll be done by this afternoon?¡±

    Mar nodded. ¡°That¡¯s actually what I was picking up ink for. I ran out with just a few pages left. Give me an hour to look everything over and they¡¯ll be ready for you to hand off to the scribes to have duplicated.¡±

    ¡°Splendid. I¡¯ll stop by that old lab you use as a workshop in another two hours.¡±

    When Mar returned to the old alchemy lab where Grob was still busily making paper he sat down and quickly got to work. He finished transcribing the last passage Master Warric wanted in the book, with a few modifications for historical accuracy. Mar finished in a little over half an hour. He flipped through the pages of all his books to make sure the ink hadn¡¯t smudged on any of the pages and that everything was legible.

    It didn¡¯t have the flamboyant writing of a proper scribe but the scribe¡¯s guild would take care of that when they copied the book, assuming Master Warric cared for such a thing. After going through all the books and realizing that there were no errors on any of the pages he closed the books and set them aside. Grob was still busily making paper, and since they still had plenty of raw materials Mar let him continue.

    Master Warric said he would come by to pick up his books, so Mar needed to stay in the room. It was already late afternoon, but the dwarf still hadn¡¯t shown up.

    The brief distraction of work had taken Mar¡¯s mind off what had happened that very morning, and the fear of what Darrik would do if he ever connected the dots reaffirmed the notion in Mar¡¯s mind that he needed to get out of Orlem.

    Without thinking, Mar¡¯s hand had found its way into his pocket, and where gently stroking the sides of the gray stone. Mar set it on the table in front of him. It didn¡¯t do anything.

    Mar rummaged through the small bundle of things he¡¯d stuffed into a concealed bag in the corner after fleeing the Pyrastern estate and pulled out the Pyrastern guard helmet. He figured he could make some crude arcanists goggles with the enchanted glass on these things. He¡¯d need frames to get them to hang on his face, but if he didn¡¯t mind holding the screen up like a monocle they would work fine as just bare glass. Mar didn¡¯t want to keep the helmet on the off-chance that somebody would recognize the Pyrastern family crest on it.

    Mar worked at the glass with his fingers, then with one of his old pens, which he used as a pry-bar to lever the thing out of its slot. Mar tossed the helmet to Grob, who was already working with some powerful solvents to make paper.

    ¡°See if you can get that crest on the side rubbed off.¡± Mar asked the goblin. As a blank helmet, it might fetch some money, especially on the frontier. Things were more violent along the lands that humanity was desperately trying to recolonize after the left-over effects from the cataclysm that destroyed the Remian empire faded.

    The dwarves held back because they were allied with Orlem and its satellite cities, and the elves held back because they were associated with the empire to the south east, which claimed to be the remains of the Remian empire, and thus its rightful heir.

    However, that didn¡¯t mean that the humans held full sway over the land. With the previously dense human population out of the way, the entire area was prime land for orcs, pigmen, goblins, trolls, ogres, and any other nasty creature you could imagine setting up a camp and wreaking havoc. Needless to say, the adventurer trade was booming in the region, and the mana crystals and soul stones being distilled from the dying auras of the infesting creatures was starting to effect even the Pyrastern family¡¯s monopoly.

    While he thought, Mar¡¯s fingers lifted the stone from his pocket. Before he knew it, he was turning the gray rock over in his hands. Examining the stone using the glass pried from the guard¡¯s helmet, Mar became fairly certain that there was little to no mana remaining in the stone. Powerful talisman for dark magic though it might be, without energy it was just a rock.

    He remembered the voice he had heard coming from it before, and he briefly considered supplying mana to it just so he could ask the spirit inside some proper questions, but that would be complete stupidity. He remembered how easily the warlock¡¯s totem had affected his mind earlier and knew it was foolish to think he could resist such power through sheer stubbornness. Besides, not being a mage, he couldn¡¯t even use the power a warlock¡¯s totem could provide. Mar simply didn¡¯t have an aura big enough to be manipulated.

    Mar briefly considered selling it, but Yavin had asked him to keep it safe. Not that he thought he would see her again. The Pyrasterns weren¡¯t savages. They were fully fledged mages and like most mages saw other mages as something much more valuable than a few mundane guards. The guards were disposable, but killing another mage was taboo. Even if that other mage was a backwoods druid. Having proved herself to be a fourth order spell-caster, the Pyrasterns might very well try to convince her to join them.

    Suddenly there was a knocking on the door. Both Grob and Mar looked up. Grob put down the spoon he was stirring with and opened the door. Behind it was Master Warric.

    ¡°A damn bloody goblin!¡± Master Warric leapt back with a grunt of surprise. He reached for something at his hip. It was an arcanist invention. A smooth barrel of metal that contained a ball of lead inside that would be propelled by a magically induced explosion. Mar had seen Master Warric demonstrate its use and knew full well what it could do to Grob¡¯s head.

    ¡°Master Warric!¡± Mar shouted. ¡°That¡¯s just Grob. He¡¯s¡­ my goblin. He makes paper for me.¡±

    ¡°Ah¡­ Yes. I think I remember you telling me about it¡­ him.¡± Master Warric put the weapon away. Grob bolted and cowered in the corner. ¡°You¡¯re lucky us dwarves don¡¯t have too many grudges against their kind. An elf would have killed the thing on sight. Still though, I never understood why you humans use the little thieves for grunt labor. Too much of a risk. Sure, they¡¯re harmless enough as tiny little goblins but give them food and time and they can evolve into something much more dangerous.¡±

    Mar nodded. ¡°I¡¯ve heard that before. Grob¡¯s been with me for over a year now though and he¡¯s been harmless the whole time. Quite helpful too when it comes to making paper.¡±

    ¡°Is that so?¡± Master Warric eyed the cowering green creature critically.

    Mar decided to change the subject. ¡°Here¡¯s your order, in full.¡± Mar picked up the small stack of books in his hands.

    ¡°Ah! Wonderful. And here¡¯s your payment. Plus, a little extra, since I know you always do good work.¡± Master Warric handed Mar a small leather pouch.

    It felt strangely light for the amount of silver denarii they had agreed upon, so Mar felt obliged to peer into the bag. Mar gasped in surprise when he noticed that there were gold coins gleaming in the light instead of silver.

    Mar turned to Master Warric to thank him profusely when he noticed the dwarf was hardly paying attention to him, and instead stood transfixed to something he had picked up off Mar¡¯s desk.

    Damn it to hells. Mar had left the Warlock¡¯s totem sitting right on his desk. Warlock¡¯s totems were highly proscribed items, and as a master at Orlem¡¯s school of magic, Master Warric would be obliged to report it to the inquisitors. Even more reason for Mar to skip town as soon as possible.

    Mar tried to come up with a convenient excuse for having such an object.

    ¡°That¡¯s just a replica warlo¡ª¡± But Mar was interrupted by a loud exclamation from the dwarf.

    ¡°An Eye of the Enchanter¡­¡± Master Warric whispered. In amazement, gazing at the gray stone.

    ¡°A what?¡± Mar asked.

    ¡°See these distinctive lines running through the stone here? The delicate rune work? This is clearly an Enchanter¡¯s eye. Arcanists term for a tool that allows the user to work with mana like nothing else. With a tool like this, only the final product of a spell-weave needs to be stable, rather than the whole process. Sadly, this one is broken beyond any hope of repair. Otherwise I¡¯d have to steal-err buy it from you on behalf of dwarf kind. In fact, I think it would still be worth quite a bit just as a collector¡¯s item. Only a few hundred of these things were ever made after all, and I only know of three that work and are in use.¡±

    Mar had already decided not to sell the stone, but Master Warric¡¯s identification of the stone caught him off guard. Master Warric wasn¡¯t known for misidentifying things. In fact, adventures came from far distant lands to have the old dwarven artificer appraise their loot from dungeons.

    ¡°It¡¯s not mine to trade.¡± Mar said truthfully. ¡°I¡¯m just holding on to it.¡±

    Master Warric mumbled in appreciation. ¡°Hard to believe somebody would let a beautiful thing like this out of their sight, even if it¡¯s just a paperweight now. You know where it came from?¡±

    Mar shook his head. ¡°The owner told me she got it passed onto her from someone else.¡±

    Master Warric hesitantly handed the stone back. ¡°Well if she ever needs coin, point her my way. My clan would give her weight in gold for that little trinket.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll pass it on.¡± Mar said. Then he asked the question that had been bugging him. ¡°So, it¡¯s not¡­ a mind stone? Or a warlock¡¯s totem or something? Just to name examples.¡± Mar hurriedly added.

    Master Warric shook his head. ¡°No, that¡¯s an Enchanter¡¯s eye, no doubt, though I can see how a lesser arcanist might be fooled. A mind stone is always holding a spell structure to maintain it¡¯s thought processes, and a warlock¡¯s totem would be whispering about how we can use it to kill all our enemies with. It¡¯s an enchanter¡¯s eye, though sadly a broken one.¡±

    ¡°So, there¡¯s no spirit fragments living in it?¡± Mar asked.

    The dwarf laughed. ¡°Goodness, no. Warlock¡¯s totems all have distinctive runes here, which serve as their connection to whatever powerful demon or spirit the totem belongs to. There¡¯s nothing of the kind here. Everything the stone interacts with ¡ªor would interact with if it worked¡ª is right here in this very rock.¡±

    ¡°Interesting.¡± Mar nodded.

    ¡°It is indeed, relay my offer though! Alright, I¡¯ll leave you be. You no doubt want to run to the administration office before they close so you can opt out of the tournament tomorrow.¡±

    ¡°Oh no, I won¡¯t be participating in that.¡± Mar shook his head. By default, everyone at the school was automatically enrolled in the event. However, everyone who wasn¡¯t a mage immediately forfeited, since they had no way of winning such a competition. Many of the non-combat based mages ended up opting out as well, simply to avoid getting crushed. The spells usually saved everyone from death, but not always.¡±

    Master Warric chuckled. ¡°Then ye¡¯d best run quickly. The office closes in another ten minutes. After that you¡¯ll need to get there first thing tomorrow.¡±

 Keeper of the Realm 1

    As soon as Master Warric was out of the room Mar ran towards the administration building. Damn it to the seven hells! He¡¯d forgotten entirely about the stupid mage games with all the excitement of that morning. He should have remembered, after all, Verona had just mentioned it earlier after all.

    He came to a dead stop when he found the huge ironwood doors of the administration building wide open. That was strange. The faculty who worked in the administration building tended to keep the doors closed at all hours, relying on the notion that the massive weight of the doors would keep them closed enough to dissuade anybody who didn¡¯t have serious business from coming inside.

    But not today, lined outside of the doors were hundreds of young students, and not just students from Orlem¡¯s school. There were plenty of representatives from Brigs, and Volfdown¡¯s schools. They all wore the tell-tale robes and insignia of mage students.

    Mar spotted a fellow student of Orlem who wasn¡¯t enrolled in the magic program. It was a boy his own age, wearing over-sized spectacles. Unlike the mage students he wasn¡¯t in uniform. His silk shirt was dyed a gaudy shade of purple and had gold thread woven through it. He must be new money, like most of the students. In any other city it would be an ostentatious display of wealth, but here in Orlem it was just considered tacky. Despite being from a wealthy family, he might as well have been wearing a plain cotton shirt. He¡¯d been pushed to the back of the crowd and couldn¡¯t wriggle his way forward through the group.

    Mar tapped him on the shoulder. ¡°What¡¯s going on here? Why are there so many people?¡±

    The other student glanced at Mar. ¡°You haven¡¯t heard? Old Morvus kicked the bucket last week!¡±

    Mar gasped. ¡°Morvus Malacius? But he¡¯s been the Keeper for six hundred years!¡±

    The other student nodded. ¡°Goes to show, even sixth order mages are mortal.¡±

    ¡°So that means¡­ the Realmstone is without a keeper? That would explain why there are so many people here.¡± Mar said.

    ¡°It¡¯s not just that.¡± The other student replied. ¡°This is the first time a Keeper tournament has been held since Orlem expanded the league charter to officially grant residence of our vassal cities citizenship.¡±

    So that was why there were so many mages from outside of Orlem. The Keeper of the Realmstone was a major political figure, and if one of the lesser cities got one of their mages the position they would have a lot more pull in politics throughout the League of the Enlightened Nations, which had essentially served as Orlem¡¯s unofficial domain ever since the fall of the Remian Empire.

    Normally the yearly tournament was just to determine who among the mages would be First Sorcerer, and thus the voice of their generation. But this year the prize was so much bigger. The Realmstone was responsible for building and holding together all of the infrastructure in Orlem and the surrounding countryside. Over the past thousand years, its influence had expanded to hold many of the other nearby cities as well.

    The Realmstone itself was essentially as massive millennia old dungeon core that had been placed in the heart of the city and had been growing steadily that entire time. The Keeper¡¯s job was to harness the massive power of that dungeon core to build and maintain infrastructure, defenses, water, and food. It also concentrated mana, making mages in Orlem more powerful and making it easier to cast spells for anyone who ventured there. It would be no great exaggeration to say that Orlem owed its great success to the Realmstone. Several other nations had since captured dungeon cores of their own and tamed them, but none could compare to the Realmstone of Orlem.

    The keeper¡¯s would have all that power at his or her fingertips. While their primary job would be to keep the dungeon core from creating an endless horde of monsters and instead bend it¡¯s power to making dams and bridges, designing large scale enchantments like the flying castles that protect the border with the empire and the flying rivers that turn desert into arable land. The massive trees that grow chicken like fruit and any other project that the Keeper cares to think of.

    Of course, you had to be a mage to become a Keeper, so it was out of the question for Mar. But maybe not for Verona. Maybe staying in town wouldn¡¯t be so bad. He had promised to cheer Verona on during the mage games. There was just a little more at stake now. Hells, if anyone could win it would be Verona. The Pyrasterns wouldn¡¯t be working so hard to back an orphan girl with elvish blood if she wasn¡¯t extraordinarily talented.

    Mar was shaken from his thoughts when all the chattering from so many people in so tight a space went suddenly and eerily quiet. Someone had stepped up onto a platform. An air mage, Mar figured. Assuming the sound dampening spell came from her. Mar couldn¡¯t see her weaving the spell but its effects were obvious, even to mundanes. Everyone quieted as they realized their voices were coming out no louder than a whisper. One of the air mages dispelled it around him and tried keep talking but was quickly shushed by his neighbors.

    ¡°As you no doubt know, the tournament to select the best among you for the title of First Mage shall begin tomorrow. The winner shall be representative of your generation in the senate, and now Keeper of the Realm as well.¡± People tried to cheer but the sound dampening spell didn¡¯t allow it.

    ¡°But also as many of you have heard, the position of Keeper for the city of Orlem will be available!¡± She held out the drama for several long moments. Eventually one of the air mages grew restless enough to shout over her spell.

    ¡°What¡¯s the test going to be!? That¡¯s what we want to know!¡±

    The teacher waved the student down. ¡°We have communed with the Realmstone, and the competition that will determine who will be its Keeper will be a Battle Royal!¡±

    There was around of cheering from all the combat oriented mages, followed by groans and shouts of despair from the building, crafting, and enchantment mages.

    ¡°Warg shit!¡± Shouted a particularly vocal macro-enchanter earth mage. ¡°The only ones who have a chance of winning a battle royal are the battle mages! What would one of them know about building and maintaining aqueducts? Creating roads that don¡¯t fill with mud and horse dung? What would they know about growing crops or making water clean enough to drink?¡±

    ¡°As if you know anything about aquamancy, builder!¡± sneered a water mage. Mages were exclusive even amongst themselves, and the rivalry between disciplines was fierce.

    The earth mage ignored the insult. ¡°We should have a competition of skill, like the tournament. Maybe have everyone build something for the good of Orlem. We¡¯ll vote on the best improvement and that mage will be the next Keeper. That¡¯s how Morvus Malacius became the last Keeper. He designed the floating paths.¡± Some voiced their accession, mostly the other builder mages. Many others booed loudly.

    A pyromancer in ritualist garb stood up. ¡°Let¡¯s not forget that the Realmstone¡¯s original purpose was for the defense of the city itself, before it¡¯s immense power was tapped for all these silly luxury projects. Now that tensions are rising with the Empire, we need to return to those ideals. We should see who among the mages can best channel the power of the Realmstone to power spells and large-scale ritual magic, that way¡ª¡± The sound dampening magic which had been stretched paper thin by all the mages poking holes in it to be heard shattered completely at this point, and the boos drowned out the pyromancer.

    A girl in blue stood up. Mar guessed she studied aquamancy, but the uniform was from outside of Orlem so he couldn¡¯t place the exact discipline. ¡°There are thousands of sick and dying. Not everyone has the easy access to healing magic available in Orlem. With the dungeon core¡¯s power we could heal the sick and elevate the struggling cities on the outskirts of the league.¡±

    ¡°Take the Realmstone out of Orlem! Are you daft?¡± The boos and shouts were by far the loudest this time. ¡°Half the city would collapse without its active input of power, and without the concentrated mana it provides casting spells would be twice as hard!¡±

    ¡°The lesser cities would turn against us and challenge us for control of the League if they saw such weakness!¡± Another voice shouted.

    ¡°The Empire would exhaust every resource to steal it while it was vulnerable! Within a year our most powerful weapon would be serving our enemies!¡±

    More voices clamored for attention. Finally the staff member had enough.

    ¡°QUIET!¡± She demanded, and a supernaturally loud boom echoed through the chamber, carried by air magic throughout the halls.

    ¡°The Keeper will be, as always, determined by the Realmstone itself. According to Morvus, this is how it wanted to determine the next Keeper, so a Battle Royal it is. Everyone who¡¯s still signed up for the tournament, you¡¯re already marked, and you will be yanked into the spirit realm where ever you are when the time comes."

    "The competition itself will take place on the spirit plane of course, to prevent injuries and death. The wards city-wide have been modified and everyone should be able to sustain the spell continuously with the Realmstone''s help. The city will become the labyrinth that you will all have to navigate. Remember, the layout of our world and the spirit realm aren''t exactly the same. I can tell you from experience the spirit realm version of our city is much more maze-like. And you won''t have the floating paths to navigate the city for you."

    "There will be three guardians, each protecting one key. You''ll need all three of them to open the doors the inner sanctum of the Realmstone in the palace. You''ll either have to beat all three guardians or take down the people who beat the guardians and take their keys. Alliances are allowed, but so is betrayal."

    "Everyone who is turning down the opportunity to participate should have already done so, but you¡¯ll have today and tomorrow morning to have your spell marker removed by speaking to me or one of the other administrators. Also, I see a lot of uniforms from outside of Orlem. You¡¯ll also have to talk to me or one of the other administrators if you want to have the mark placed on you so you can participate. That¡¯s it. Any changes or further details will be explained tomorrow right before we begin via city-wide announcement.¡±The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

    The mages from Orlem made to clear out. Mar spotted the other mundane student with the glasses that he had been talking with earlier rubbing the back of his hand as he walked away from an administrator. He¡¯d just gotten his mark removed no doubt.

    Mar tried to squeeze between the shoulders of the many mages making their way outside of the building. Several air mages who knew flight spells zipped overhead and a foot smacked into the side of Mar¡¯s head. Mar was sent tumbling sideways until his head collided with a stomach.

    ¡°Oof!¡± said the person attached to the stomach. ¡°Watch where you¡¯re going, peasant.¡± The voice snarled. ¡°If this were my city I¡¯d have you whipped for touching me.¡±

    Mar looked up and gulped. He¡¯d plowed headfirst into a battle mage. Brigs by the look of his robes. ¡°Sorry¡­ sir.¡± Mar hated to play into the mages superiority complex, but he didn¡¯t want to get on the wrong side of a second battle mage. Darrik was more than enough on that front.

    ¡°That¡¯s Lord Chetz Illarious, of Brigs. No doubt you¡¯ve heard of my family.¡±

    Mar nodded affirmative, despite the fact that he¡¯d never heard of the Illarious family before.

    Chetz looked at Mar like he was debating between making Mar humiliate himself in apology and trying to maintain his public image.

    Mar meanwhile was thinking that this Chetz Illarious was so similar in mannerism to Darrik they might as well be twins.

    Finally social etiquette won out, and Chetz turned away, glaring at Mar one last time. Instead of meekly averting his eyes, Mar met the gaze evenly.

    Finally after bobbing and weaving his way forward out of the groups of mages leaving, he made it to the administration desk. Just as he was about to speak with the clerk a hand tapped his shoulder.

    ¡°Back of the line is over there, mundane.¡± A mage from outside of Orlem sneered. Mar was really starting to get tired of the condescending attitude. Not all mages were like that, but it seemed as though competitive spirit brought out the worst of the lot today.

    Mar found his way to the back of the line, which was even further back then the mage had indicated. He wondered why it was so long, but then realized that the majority of the people in line where mages from cities outside of Orlem. Usually the only sent their best, as very few mages trained outside of Orlem had a chance competing with the locals, but this time it looked like every city that was big enough for a magic school had sent half their students there. Most were around Mar¡¯s age. A few were older, but none past their mid-twenties. They wouldn¡¯t be considered part of the current generation of mages and an extra decade of studies would be an unfair advantage.

    All these out of town mages would be signing up for the tournament. Casting the spell on individuals took quite a few minutes, which is why in Orlem it was simply cast on the entire student body at once. Anybody who didn¡¯t want to participate had to opt out like Mar was doing now. Mar kicked himself for not opting out two weeks ago, when the reminder went out. He¡¯d just been too busy to make it to the administration building.

    When he finally made it to the front of the line, the clerk informed him that he was out of mana, and that he¡¯d have to ask one of the others. When he¡¯d made it through that line, that clerk ran out of mana as well.

    ¡°Don¡¯t you have enough for just one more? You don¡¯t even need to make the mark, just remove it.¡±

    ¡°Sorry kid.¡± The clerk replied. ¡°Policy states that I¡¯m not supposed to go below ten percent mana, and I¡¯m just a hair''s breadth above that now. If we had any crystals left I could recharge a little but we¡¯re fresh out. It¡¯ll take a week to replenish my mana normally, even here in Orlem.¡±

    Mar made a face in displeasure.

    ¡°Alright, I¡¯d hate to see you become cannon fodder for the mages. Honestly, I don¡¯t get why they still enroll everyone into these school-wide events by default. It¡¯s not like the old days, when Orlem was constantly under threat and every mage needed to pull their weight. You mundanes are just free points.¡±

    ¡°Do you need a mana crystal? I think I could find one somewhere¡­¡± Mar said. He was certain there was one on the shelf of that old alchemy lab. And Grob had stolen more than one of the things before Mar taught him that such activities could get him killed.

    ¡°No, we¡¯ll restock tomorrow. Tell you what, me and all the other administrators will be at the central plaza tomorrow morning before things get started. Get to me there and you can skip to the front of whatever line there is. Or you could just have one of the mage students remove it. Maybe another faculty member. It¡¯s not that hard to take off, magic-wise. Normally we frown on that but since I¡¯ve already taken you off the lists in the paperwork department, things should be all clear.¡±

    Mar thought about it. That¡¯s right, Master Warric was always working late. And it would just be a tiny favor. Or Verona. Yes, this would be the perfect excuse to talk to her again. He could tell her about how he planned to leave Orlem. To start a life for himself somewhere out on the frontier. He could say goodbye.

    Verona was exactly where she had been this morning. Still practicing out on the fields, though with an entirely different set of partners. The mages she had been fighting against before had all been older than her. Too old to be in the upcoming competitions, and too bad to be anyone of importance. Probably mages who never made it out of the second order doing a little work for the Pyrastern family. Either that or the Pyrastern¡¯s drafted some less important branch family members to the cause.

    The mages she was with this time however were different. Though younger, they all had an air of competence about them. Though he spotted the signature fire-red hair of the Pyrastern family --a trait which Darrik, much to his chagrin, didn''t share-- heavily represented amongst its members. They were huddled in a circle with Verona in the center, a total of seven of them including Verona.

    And that was the real reason Verona signed on with the Pyrastern family. Their connections made alliances, both political and magical, much easier to make. This was a team of mages from Orlem who had been handpicked to support Verona during whatever trials were thrown at them by the upcoming tournament. With the Realmstone up for grabs, the stakes were just that much higher. They appeared to be in furious discussion of strategy.

    Mar watched for a while, listening. One of the mages glanced in his direction. Mar could almost see him scanning Mar''s aura, checking to see if he was an air mage. They were notorious eavesdroppers. Satisfied that Mar wasn''t a mage, he turned away.

    Mages were surprisingly easy to fool that way. They depended on magic for everything. Some water mages were even known to use spells that stripped water from the air to fuel their bodies, never bothering to actually take a drink. He was too far away to make out more the snippets of conversation, but Mar had taught himself enough of reading lips that he could fill in the gaps.

    "No, that would be a stupid idea Roy. As if they would let us peacefully walk straight towards the center of the city. You heard how these things work. Three keys, you need all three of them to open the door to the Realmstone."

    Another mage nodded in agreement. "So if we grab one of them, then we can be certain nobody will be getting into the chamber before us."

    "And that means we can rack up the points dispatching some of the weaker mages ast they make their way through the maze."

    Verona frowned. "We shouldn''t jeopardize the main objective. There''s no need to waste mana on participants we could otherwise avoid."

    The mage who had last spoken sneered. "Easy for you to say. None of the other major families have somebody our age to compete against. You''ve practically already won the grand prize. And now that the grand prize means becoming Keeper, rather than just another First Mage, that''s a big deal. Us on the other hand? We''re doomed to become the Pyrastern¡¯s dogs. Paid well, and more skilled than the average mage, but we''ll always be pawns on the board. Never players."

    Someone else elbowed him. "Don''t badmouth the Pyrasterns. If Darrik were here--"

    "Give me a break, Darrik''s not here."

    "Yeah but his fianc¨¦e is."

    The sneering mage snorted. "As if that''s going to last. I bet you were planning on ditching Darrik once you had the First Mage title under your belt. And now that you¡¯ll be Keeper as well, you could start your own little dynasty." He scoffed. "It''ll be the first tree fucker dynasty, in Orlem." He spat out a derogatory term for wood elves.

    Verona''s eyes snapped on him, and he gulped. He looked around to find his fellow mages backing away from him. After a long second, he lowered his gaze. He knew when he was outmatched.

    "I-I''m sorry. I take that back. I don''t know why I said that. I wasn''t thinking." he stammered.

    Verona huffed. "Well next time make sure you do think before you speak. But it''s time we got back to the topic at hand. How are we going to win this thing?"

    "But Darrik isn''t here yet." Roy said anxiously.

    "Bigger problems than that." The group''s other earth mage said. "Looks like we got somebody listening on our conversation." He glanced backward surreptitiously at Mar. "Probably our competition. From Orlem, we''re the biggest players in the game, but I''ve heard Brigs and Volfsdown are sending their best. We shouldn''t underestimate them."

    The mage who had first looked Mar over spoke up. "No, I checked him out before. He''s not a airmage. Look at his aura yourselves, if your mage sight can see that far." The air mage spoke slightly contemptuously here, because air mages could see the best with their mage sight. Earth mages could see slightly further if they had spells to read tremors in the ground, but that didn''t give any details. "You''ll find he''s not even a mage. Probably just some curious mundane."

    Finally Verona herself looked up. Mar had started waving to make himself look less suspicious. He cupped his hands and called out to her.

    "Verona!"

    The other mages glanced at Verona. "Do you know him?" The air mage asked in surprise.

    "Y-yes. I do. We''re... old friends." She replied hesitantly.

    "Why bother being friends with a mundane? It''s not like they can do anything for you." Replied the mage who had called Verona a tree-fucker.

    "Because I am." Verona snapped in reply. "Now excuse me a moment, I''ll go see what he wants."

    Mar met Verona halfway across the field.

    "Verona!" Mar said cheerily. "No doubt you''ve heard the news by now. Just imagining you as Keeper..."

    "Yes Mar, I know all about that. Now what was it you needed?" She asked sharply.

    Mar was slightly taken aback by her tone. "Well... it''s just that I need this ma--"

    "Mar can we deal with this tomorrow? Whatever you need I''ll get it for you tomorrow. Or at least I''ll give you enough coin so you can buy it. I''ve just really got a lot on my plate right now. There''s a lot of pressure on me. Years of work comes to fruition tomorrow, and the Pyrastern¡¯s are depending on me to perform well. Mana crystals don''t sell like they used to now that so many adventurer guilds can harvest them from magical beasts out on the frontiers. They need me to do well."

    "I understand that, Verona. I''m sorry to take you away from your strategy session. But I--" Although Mar''s words were calm, for some reason he was furious inside. He tried to crush the feeling. Was it envy for Verona''s success? Each time Mar tried to quell his emotions they came back in full force. The mark on his hand was forgotten.

    "But what?" Verona asked, eyebrow raised.

    "It''s just... I''m leaving."

    "Okay?" Verona asked in confusion. She began turning around.

    "I''m leaving Orlem." Mar clarified. "There''s no opportunity here. If I stay where I am I''ll be lucky to find steady work copying old manuscripts for the Masters. Everyone who''s anyone in Orlem is a mage... and I''m not. It''s time I accepted that."

    "Where will you go?"

    Mar shrugged. "The frontier. The cities in old Remia are starting to finally get re-established. They''ve finally started beating the monsters back enough that trade can take hold. Perhaps I''ll become a merchant. Or maybe I''ll sign on with some adventurers and go dungeon diving."

    Mar carefully studied Verona''s face. He expected concern. a sense of abandonment. Sadness. Anything really. Instead he saw a slight tinge of relief. As if a burden that had been weighing on her for a long time had lifted itself off her shoulders through no effort of her own.

    She placed a hand on Mar''s shoulder. "You''ve clearly thought about this for a while, and I support your decision. I wish you the best of luck, my old friend." Verona looked like she was about to enfold Mar in an embrace, but then remembered her teammates were watching her. She settled for a handshake instead. "Best of luck Mar. I hope you''ll stay for the games though. I''d feel better if you were in the stands, cheering for me. Once this thing is over, win or lose, I''ll see you off myself."

    Mar nodded slightly. "Will do Verona. Best of luck to you too." It was all he could say over the emotional turmoil that was simmering inside of him.

 Keeper of the Realm 2

    ¡°Thrice damned mages.¡± Mar muttered as he walked back to the small room where Grob was likely still at work making paper. They were arrogant pricks who thought themselves superior, every last one.

    Mar had been denying it for years, but now he was forced to realize that they had even turned Verona into one of them.

    ¡°She thought I was a burden¡­ like I¡¯ve become a cripple.¡± And compared to a mage that¡¯s what he was. Not being able to cast magic while living among mages was like a man without hands trying to work in a time keeper''s workshop.

    All the more reason to get out of this city. Orlem was wealthy and powerful beyond compare, save perhaps the Empire¡¯s capital. But here in Orlem mages ruled, and those without magic could never amount to anything more then a notable shopkeeper or merchant.

    Maybe the world would be better off if the Empire succeeded in finally invading and destroying Orlem and the League of Free Cities it had built around it. The mages here were beginning to see themselves as gods. Without the increased mana density from the Realmstone they wouldn¡¯t be nearly so powerful. From what Mar had read, mages were obscure and rare throughout the rest of the world. Most of the time they were proscribed from taking political office, and in places like the Empire they were forced by law to subject themselves to additional scrutiny for all of their activities, lest they plot to seize power as they had in Orlem.

    Mar had heard of more than one mage escaping the Empire to seek sanctuary with Orlem. Maybe he should do the opposite. Flee to the Empire to get away from all these damned to the seven hells mages.

    Mar touched the spot on the back of his hand where he knew the trial¡¯s mark lay magically inscribed on him. First things first, he needed to get that thing removed before he could even think about taking a portal out of the city.

    He really should be preparing to leave. He did participate in an attack on the Pyrastern estate. Nobody saw his face but there was a strong possibility they could have found out from Yavin. It was taboo it mistreat a mage --especially a powerful one-- even if they invaded your home, but the Pyrasterns might just be barbarous enough to compel Yavin to tell them all about the warlock¡¯s totem Darrik was so keen on getting his hands on.

    Mar didn¡¯t think so. Yavin might have hurt --maybe even killed-- a few of the guards, but mages were on a whole different level of importance compared to mundanes. There were laws in place for the ethical treatment of fellow mages, and even the Pyrastern¡¯s wouldn¡¯t risk being proscribed by their peers.

    They probably wouldn¡¯t even get to questioning Yavin. She had been betrayed by Darrik and attacked, as a guest welcomed into their home. If word of that got out it would be a stain on the entire family''s reputation.

    Mar smiled at the thought of Darrik being punished by his family for sullying their name.

    Yavin really had helped him back at the estate, teleporting Mar out with the stone rather than just teleporting herself out and leaving Mar to fend for himself. Had it been Mar¡¯s word against Darrik¡¯s, Mar would already be in the city dungeons, maybe even tortured if Darrik insisted on it. If Mar remembered correctly, in the eyes of the law mages counted as thirteen and a half people. Some ancient rule made years ago when the law books were being written. That meant you needed at least fourteen other mundanes to corroborate your story for it to be believed over a mage¡¯s word in the eyes of the law, though in truth even that rarely worked. A trial with a mage against a mundane was no trial at all.

    Maybe not all mages were bad. Yavin had been a bit demanding barging into his home like that, but she¡¯d come through. Then again Yavin was technically a druid, not a mage. And she wasn¡¯t from Orlem either. More evidence that the arrogance of the mages Mar knew came from the superiority complex they all developed from growing up in a city where mages were legally worth more than regular people. Livy was polite, but that might have been because she came from a family of mundanes, rather than one of the established mage bloodlines.

    Mar had hoped they would have released Yavin by now and she¡¯d come by to get rid of the dangerous mind-controlling stone. Mar had no desire to hang onto it for any longer than necessary. He reached into his pocket, fingers stroking the broken edges.

    Since he couldn¡¯t get Verona¡¯s help, maybe he could get Master Warric¡¯s? He would have no probably removing the mark, and wouldn¡¯t mind helping Mar out. The dwarf had a slight fondness for Mar. Dwarves valued hard work and frugality, and human mages tended to use magic to avoid as much hard work as possible. Mar worked constantly, even when he had enough money set aside for the month that he didn¡¯t , and Master Warric recognized that.

    But going to Master Warric would mean begging a mage for help with his problems, and that was something Mar was loath to do at the moment.

    Then a thought struck him as he was still running his fingers across the face of the stone in his pocket. He could remove it himself.

    It was in his care until Yavin came back to pick it up after all.

    Mar adjusted his course as he walked. Instead of Master Warric''s workshop, he stepped into the library. He breathed in the familiar musty air. This was almost like a second home to him. It¡¯s where the school tossed him when the Masters realized that their test had made a mistake. It would be a waste to throw him away after they paid for an expensive childhood education on the assumption that he would become a skilled mage. He did technically owe quite a bit to the school for raising him. Verona had already paid off her debt to the school in full, but as a mundane Mar would need to put in years of work.

    Mar had entered through the back of the library of course. He had his own key, as the school paid him a small stipend to help take care of the books. Mar looked up the floor to ceiling walls of shelves. The top shelf was so high you would need to use two ladders to reach the top. Hauling a ladder up a ladder is a sure way to throw your back out. Luckily there was magic for that. Arrogant and entitled as they are, mages had their uses.

    Mar tapped a globe at the end of the bookshelf. The tile of flooring underneath him popped out of position and floated in the air while Mar stood comfortably atop it.

    Mar stroked the globe, indicating he wanted to go up. The stone slab floated up, taking Mar with it. He navigated the upper shelves.

    The school library was vast. Even Mar, who had practically grown up here, hadn¡¯t even seen all the shelves, let alone read all the books. That being said, Mar didn¡¯t have to have read all the books to find the book¡¯s he needed.

    It took Mar an embarrassingly long time to locate the titles he was looking for. The trouble lay in the fact that while every section of the library was organized, they were all organized under an entirely different system for each section. Navigating between systems was a nightmare.

    After a long search, the two titles he was looking for were under his arms.

    Under his left arm he held ¡°An Inquisitor''s Guide to Warlock Totems and their safe Handling¡± and under his right arm he held ¡°The Mysteries of the Enchanter¡¯s Eye¡±

    Mar had grabbed the second title as an afterthought. Yavin had told him the stone was a Warlock''s Totem, and Mar was certain he had heard it speak to him.

    But Master Warric had identified it as an Enchanter¡¯s eye. Mar had never heard of such a thing before. But he¡¯d never known Master Warric to misidentify an artifact.

    And so Mar sat down at a table with both books and settled in for a long read.

    Mar read over the most relevant passages a second time, trying to make sure he didn¡¯t miss anything. The inquisitor''s guide clearly stated that Warlock¡¯s totems were in no way able to do anything without an active bond to a living mage. A host, whose aura they could use as their own.

    Mar had only had an active bond with the stone briefly, but he had clearly felt its influence during that fight at the Pyrastern¡¯s estate. The bond had been broken at that time, so how had it been able to function, let alone influence him?

    Yavin had spoken of a binding spell, but the Inquisitors guide said to keep a Warlock¡¯s totem in a dormant state all you needed to do was isolate it.

    Mar found it hard to believe that the inquisitors could be so wrong. They depended on this information to do their jobs without being killed after all. Maybe Yavin simply had no idea what she was carrying, and this stone was something else entirely.

    Mar turned to the next book. ¡°The Mysteries of the Enchanter¡¯s Eye¡± was mostly a history of the dwarven kingdoms. It spoke of how Domoulis, the ancient god of the dwarves, crafted them in an effort to recreate the Worldforge, which had been shattered at the end of the god wars during the cataclysm. In the end though they were inferior copies of the creator¡¯s tool, and so Domoulis gave them to his children, the dwarves.

    Three-hundred eyes were made and distributed amongst the dwarves, and all those who possessed them could craft creations like no other. The tools allowed them the briefest glimpses into the fundamental workings of the world, and through that insight they were able to build creations of untold power. Enchanted armor that could multiply the wearer into an army of themselves. Castles that could fly through the air like a bird. Bursts of energy that could burn cities to dust in an instant.

    With weapons of such power the dwarves rapidly began taking over the world. The other gods were forced to take action, and nearly all the Enchanters eye¡¯s were broken, with a few left in a barely functional state.

    Some still worked enough to allow a skilled craftsman to create something far beyond their abilities, but never to the degree they previously allowed.

    Mar closed both books in frustration. This wasn¡¯t helping. These were the two most relevant books he could think of but neither of them were telling him anything that made sense.Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

    Fine. If books couldn¡¯t tell him Mar would just have to do a bit of experimentation.

    He stopped by the alchemy lab briefly to leave a message for Yavin with Grob is she should come looking. Mar left Grob in the room. He had been encouraging Grob to move his few things into the alchemy lab so that the goblin would have somewhere to sleep other than in the garbage. Grob was hesitant to do so because the location was far from the trash piles he could raid for food and much too open for the goblin¡¯s taste. Not to mention the fact that having only a single entrance and exit made the goblin extremely nervous. Still, after Mar taught him how to lock the door Grob felt safe enough to move in, albeit reluctantly. The next step was to convince the goblin to start bathing.

    Mar took the floating paths home. Walking the distance from the school to his house would have taken hours. Such powerful magic at the fingertips of the average citizen was something no other city had, and Mar worried a bit about his plan to leave.

    He made a brief stop at Dirtflea market, and bought a pouch of second-hand mana crystals. They were half drained of power and probably stolen at least once, but the important part was they were cheap and imported, rather than being made locally by the Pyrasterns.

    Mar could tell these were adventurer-made because they were all irregular in size and shape. That meant they were all created from the compressed auras of all manner of monsters and beasts that made the world outside of Orlem a dangerous place.

    The Pyrastern¡¯s mana crystals were different in that each line of crystal was identical to the others of it¡¯s grade and contained exactly the amount of mana it promised. This meant they were far superior for mages, artificers, and alchemists to work with. What didn¡¯t concern the craftsmen was the fact that the Pyrasterns created their mana crystals by ripping chunks of aura of hundreds of slaves, harvesting the mana from them like milk from cattle. Except this process was extremely painful, and sometimes fatal.

    Mar wanted no part of it, so he took his weak imported mana crystals and walked up towards the small apartment he called home. He stepped into his single kitchen/bedroom and looked around. Mar noted that nearly everything he would be able to carry everything he owned in a moderately large bag. The furniture had come with the place, and the only thing Mar had done to make it more comfortable was buy the spare blankets and some candles.

    Mar took a seat on the floor, his back against the cot he used as his bed. Part of the reason he never did work at home was because he didn¡¯t own a desk.

    Trinkets and talismans like a warlock¡¯s totem were generally connected directly to the wearers mana pool, which they drained to keep themselves active and identify their owner in order to serve their function.

    To use a mana crystal, a mage would absorb the mana in the crystal into their own pool. This was much faster than waiting the days or weeks it would take for their mana pools to refill naturally. They still took time, which is why mages couldn¡¯t rely on them during the heat of combat, but they definitely helped.

    There was another way to use them however. While the mana crystal was relatively stable in its intact form, once the crystal itself is fracture mana begins leaking out. Properly installed, they could allow a non-mage to operate magical items that were intended for use by mages. This was how Mar intended to operate the arcanists probe he had just pulled out of a drawer.

    Master Warric had thrown the oblong tool in the trash about a year ago when the handle broke on him. The artificer had dozens of them after all. They were never intended for use by non-mages, but out of laziness Master Warric had modified the probe for use with a mana crystal, so that he didn¡¯t need to supply the power himself to operate it.

    Grob had rescued it from the garbage for Mar, which Mar was thankful for. He¡¯d probably have to pay a hefty fine if anyone found out he had the device, so having it discretely retrieved by the goblin was a good idea.

    Mar stuck a crystal in the slot, holding it in place with his thumb since the piece that would have held it in place was snapped off. Mar positioned the grey stone in front of him. He then reached into his bag and withdrew the enchanted visor from the guards helmet. He could see through the lenses with much more detail than he could at the school. Probably because the whole area around Dirtflea market was a dark spot for magic in the city.

    Mar peered at the stone through the lense. The gray stone appeared black and lifeless. Just an ordinary rock.

    According to the inquisitor''s guide, a Warlock¡¯s totem was completely inactive without a human host. An unclaimed enchanter¡¯s eye would take ambient mana and produce a random effect. Time to do some experimenting.

    Mar poked the stone with the probe. Nothing happened.

    Mar increased the amount of raw mana flowing from the probe into the target. Still nothing happened. Looking through the enchanted lenses it seemed as though the mana came into contact with the stone and simply¡­ disappeared.

    Mar touched the stone with his hand. No heat. He sniffed the air and smelt nothing. There were no sounds, no blasts of color. As far as he could tell nothing had happened.

    That made no sense to Mar. From what he knew of the laws of manadynamics, magical energies could not be created or destroyed. It had to go somewhere. Only mana crystals and mana capacitors could store magic, and from his readings he knew neither warlock¡¯s totems or enchanter¡¯s eyes possessed any great degree of either.

    Mar poked the stone again with the arcanists probe set to full power. The crystal glowed slightly, then shattered as all of it¡¯s energy was rapidly and forcibly extracted. It was a thirsty little rock.

    Mar poked the stone.

    ¡°Talk!¡± He commanded. Mar took the time to close the blinds on his one window. He didn¡¯t want to be that crazy neighbor who yells at inanimate objects. Meanwhile the gray stone did nothing.

    Then Mar had an idea. He picked up the bag of mana crystals, tossing one in the air. ¡°Well if you don¡¯t want any of these mana crystals I guess I¡¯ll just have to keep them all to myself¡­¡± Mar taunted.

    What am I doing? Trying to play mind games with a rock?

    A warlock¡¯s totem was completely inanimate without a host, and an enchanter¡¯s eye had no will at all. Neither of them would have any reaction at all to having a mana crystal placed next to them.

    Mar placed a mana crystal a hair''s breadth away from the surface of the gray stone. He backed away and went very quiet.

    Sure enough, there was the tiniest bit of movement. Completely imperceptible to anyone who wasn¡¯t paying very good attention. But Mar was paying attention. The gray stone shifted in place ever so slightly to come in direct contact with the mana crystal. Instantly the crystal was being drained of power at a rate many times greater than what any human mage could manage.

    Mar leapt up in triumph. ¡°Haha! I caught you!¡± He exclaimed.

    The gray stone froze it¡¯s mana absorption instantly. The mana crystal imploded violently from being so suddenly drained, only to have the flow of mana come to a complete and instant stop.

    ¡°I¡¯m beginning to figure out what you are.¡± Mar lied. ¡°So there¡¯s going to be no more behind-the-back secret mind control from now on.¡±

    Mar waited for a response. None came.

    ¡°I know you can talk. You spoke to me that first night, and you whispered something to Yavin earlier.¡±

    A silence hung in the air for several minutes. Mar didn¡¯t attempt to break it. Finally he heard a slight noise, like a distant whisper.

    ¡°Need¡­ Mana¡­¡± the stone croaked out in a tinny whisper.

    Mar rolled his eyes and placed a mana crystal next to the stone. It greedily absorbed everything it could.

    ¡°More¡­¡± It croaked, slightly louder this time.

    Mar pulled out about half the stones in the bag. It took several minutes but eventually the stone drained all of those as well. Whatever energy storage mechanism the stone used must be extremely powerful to be able to store away more than eight mana crystals worth of energy.

    ¡°Why can¡¯t you talk properly, like you did before?¡± Mar questioned the stone.

    ¡°Using¡­ vibrations to talk¡­ takes much more¡­ energy. Less¡­ efficient¡­ than telepathy.¡± The stone said slowly. ¡°Connect me to¡­ your aura human. I¡­ leaking power¡­ fast.¡±

    Mar shook his head. ¡°Not going to happen, stone. I don¡¯t want you mucking around in my head any more than you already have been. And I sure as hells don¡¯t want you connected to my aura. That had been a mistake I made when I thought you were just a simple enchantment.¡±

    ¡°Can¡­ give¡­ you¡­ power. Beyond your¡­ wildest¡­ dreams.¡± The stone whispered. The words were starting to grow dimmer.

    ¡°Yes.¡± Mar scoffed. ¡°At the low price of eternal damnation for my immortal soul. No thanks.¡±

    ¡°You¡­ want¡­ power... human. I¡­ know... you¡­ do¡­ your¡­ kind¡­ always¡­ does¡­¡± The stone¡¯s whispering was growing faint. Mar placed another one of his dwindling supply of Mana crystals on top of it. He noticed that the stone was slightly warm to the touch now.

    ¡°I don¡¯t need your power.¡± Mar said to the stone.

    ¡°Lies¡­ I have seen... the way the fleshlings¡­ sneer at you. I have seen¡­ how you cringe... beneath the gazes¡­ of the magi. I could make¡­ you more powerful¡­ than any of them¡­¡±

    ¡°Yes, through you.¡± Mar scoffed.

    ¡°With my help¡­ you¡­ could cast¡­ magic.¡±

    Mar¡¯s head jerked towards the stone. If it had a face Mar imagined it would be grinning at his reaction.

    ¡°Like a mage?¡± Mar asked suspiciously.

    ¡°Better¡­ than¡­ a mage.¡± The stone whispered in reply. ¡°Like¡­ a¡­ god.¡±

    Mar snorted. ¡°I have no delusions of godhood, stone. For years I thought I was going to be a mage. Then that fate was denied to me. It¡¯s all I¡¯ve ever wanted.¡±

    ¡°Then¡­ bind¡­ me¡­ to¡­ your¡­ aura. Let¡­ my¡­ power¡­ become¡­ yours.¡±

    ¡°No I won¡¯t be doing that.¡± Mar dismissed the demand with a wave of his hand.

    ¡°Please¡­¡± The stone asked in a soft voice.

    That, more than anything, startled Mar.

    ¡°I am¡­ we are¡­ dying.¡± The stone continued.

    Mar had expected everything else. Offers of power, demands, trickery, bribery. All common tactics for demons --assuming that this was a warlock¡¯s totem and that the spirit fragment animating it belonged to a demon.

    ¡°You said we? Who else is in there?¡± Mar asked, made curious by the strange behavior.

    ¡°Other¡­ one¡­ doesn¡¯t¡­ talk. Too¡­ damaged. We both¡­ are¡­ but it¡­ is damaged¡­ more. It¡­ wants...¡±

    ¡°It wants what?¡± Mar prompted, leaning forward.

    ¡°Don¡¯t¡­ know¡­¡± The stone said finally after a long pause.

    Mar sighed in disappointment. ¡°Look, see this Mark on my hand?¡±

    ¡°Closer.¡± The stone asked, and Mar moved his hand within a pace of the stone.

    ¡°I need it removed.¡± Mar continued. ¡°Can you do that?¡± Mar asked. If it could then it would be definite proof that the gray stone was not a warlock¡¯s totem.

    ¡°A¡­ trivial¡­ task.¡±

    There was a brief searing sensation on the back of Mar¡¯s hand. It burned for a moment as Mar felt the mana being unwoven from the portion of his aura associated with his hand. This wasn¡¯t like the anti-weave the administrator''s used to get rid of the mark. This felt like somebody grabbing the raw strands of magic and pulling them apart. Wild magic, rather than the formulaic castings most mages pre-loaded into their auras.

    As suddenly as it started the pain vanished. Mar picked up the lenses pried from the guard¡¯s helmet.

    Mar examined the back of his hand. ¡°It¡¯s gone.¡± Then suddenly the pain in his hand reappeared, stronger than ever. Mar looked at his hand and watched as the mark wove itself back into his aura with astounding speed. ¡°Hey! Stop it! I wanted it gone!¡± Mar exclaimed. It felt as though two magical forces were playing tug of war with his aura.

    ¡°The¡­ other¡­ fights¡­ me.¡± The stone said in a grunted whisper.

    ¡°Then make it stop!¡± Mar exclaimed.

    There was a rattling sound and the stone started shaking in place. After several long seconds of pain, the feeling finally abated. Mar looked through the enchanted lenses at the back of his hand. The mark was there, stronger than ever.

    ¡°What gives?¡± Mar demanded of the stone.

    ¡°The¡­ other¡­ wants the¡­ mark. It¡­ will¡­ not see¡­ reason.¡±

    ¡°Well then you¡¯re useless to me.¡± Mar snarled. ¡°You can forget about getting any of these mana crystals. And once Yavin gets out of the Pyrastern¡¯s clutches, I¡¯m giving you right back to her.¡±

 Keeper of the Realm 3

    Thoughts of the stone swam through Mar¡¯s mind as he crawled into bed. He reached into his pocket as he took off his tunic and found his hands clutching at the mysterious gray stone he had wanted to show Verona. He wanted to place it on the shelf by his bed, but something made him slip it under his pillow instead.

    Lying in bed, he nodded off to sleep on dreams his childhood.Unconsciously, his hand slipped under the pillow and wrapped around the edges of the gray stone. A mage would have seen a faint glow emanate from the rock, and infinitesimally small lines of power flow into Mar¡¯s body.

    In response Mar¡¯s dreams shifted. He¡¯d been living through an old nightmare from that time he was locked in the library for a few days while the school was closed. He¡¯d just been a kid then, and the main doors at the front of the library could only be opened by magic. Feeling trapped was quite terrifying. If Verona hadn¡¯t come by and opened the door for him with her newly acquired abilities, things could have been a lot worse.

    Suddenly the large doors swung open and Mar wiped the tears from his childlike face. The doors swung open and he expected to see a twelve year old Verona standing on the other side. But when the light streamed through the open doorway he found there was no one there. The world beyond the libraries entrance was just as silent as the one inside. Looking around the campus and at the streets to the shops at the foot of the hill beyond he realized he couldn¡¯t see anyone. All of Orlem was silent, without a single person stirring.

    That¡¯s when something above his head caught his attention. A ribbon of red streamed through the air, flowing and pulsating. It was headed northwest of the school, in the direction Mar knew to lead to the palace of the Founder. The ribbon plunged to the earth some way off into the distance, like a sinister rainbow. Mar was compelled to find where it ended.

    Mar began walking towards the palace. As he did his dream solidified around him. The finely tailored and cut robes the school had provide him in his youth were replaced by the roughspun tunic and trousers he usually wore. His limbs and torso stretched and elongated until he was at his normal height.

    Soon Mar made it to the palace, and the red light beckoned him inside. The front gates were the closest he had ever come to the palace of the Founder before. He had no idea what lay inside, but the red light streamed through the open doorway and beckoned him to enter.

    Mar stopped at the entrance. The doors were flung unnaturally wide and scraping their edges he realized they were hot to the touch, cracked and covered in scorch marks. The powerful enchantment that had held it shut had been torn asunder.

    Mar took a deep breath and walked inside, not knowing what lay in store. The room inside was unexpectedly plain. The walls were bare, as if they had once held tapestries and paintings which had since been stripped away. The vaulted ceiling towered over him. If Mar stood twice as tall as the tallest person in Orlem he would still have had plenty of room.

    The red ribbon in the air led him down a long hallway. Mar followed it to another large doorway. This too was torn from the wall and shattered. The runes across its surface still glowed with power. The ribbon of red was at head hight now, and Mar cautiously poked at it. Nothing happened. He swung his hand through it and the ribbon did not budge. It was as if the red ribbon were something drawn on the backs of his eyes, and waving his hand through it had no effect.

    Mar felt compelled to continue following the ribbon to see where it lead. Past this second doorway he came to a staircase made of polished granite. It took Mar a minute to reach the bottom, and as he traveled lower and lower the stairs became more and more opulent.

    What had first been simple smooth polished granite became granite with seams of gold running through it in a complex pattern. Diamonds, rubies, and sapphires lay embedded in the walls at regular intervals, each enchanted to provide a dull light. Grabbing at a particularly large diamond Mar tried to pry it from the wall, but it was stuck too tightly for him to budge it with his hands.

    At the bottom of the stairs was a large circular room. Sitting in the center was a pedestal that held up a massive and beautiful gemstone. It was red like a ruby but shined with a brilliance no ruby could ever match. It was as tall as a person and several times as wide. The red ribbon flowed lazily through the air, collecting in a swirling mass above the gemstone, clearly indicating that this was it¡¯s final destination.

    Mar had heard descriptions of this thing before, but never had he dreamed of seeing it with his own eyes. He could feel the magic emanating from this thing. Pulsing through the air with power far beyond the limit of human capabilities. This could only be the Realmstone.

    The stone¡­

    Mar glanced around. That whispering had come from somewhere, but there was no one here but him.

    The stone¡­

    The voice repeated itself. Somehow Mar knew that the voice wasn¡¯t talking about the Realmstone, but rather Yavin¡¯s stone that lay in his pocket. Mar reached inside and his fingers wrapped around it. There was a soft tugging feeling that was drawing the gray rock to the Realmstone. Mar lifted his hand and approached the Realmstone. Arm extended, he pressed the two objects of power together.

    Instantly a network of ley lines lit up inside both stones. The ones coursing through the giant Realmstone were vast and immensely powerful, like the surging of a mighty river, crossing and weaving in an elaborate network Mar could scarcely understand.

    But the complexity of the Realmstone paled in comparison to Yavin¡¯s stone. Where the Realmstone¡¯s ley lines were large and powerful, the gray stone¡¯s ley lines were like a hundred thousand spider webs lying against each other. They changed configuration every second, seemingly without rhyme or reason.

    Mar watched as a furious battle played out before his eyes. The red ruby substance of the Realmstone stretched out, beginning to engulf the smaller stone. Just as the gray stone was about to be completely absorbed something happened. There was a great fracture across the surface of the ruby red Realmstone, which quickly spread across the entire surface. It was quickly followed by others, creating a spider web shape around it. The Ley lines in the Realmstone began fading.

    The gray stone would not allow that. It reached out with it¡¯s own lines of power, redirecting the failing ley lines into itself. Power pulsed flowed into the gray stone and it¡¯s gray flint-like appearance darkened. The crystal of the Realmstone seemed to liquefy, spreading over the surface of the gray stone healing it¡¯s rough broken edges. The gray stone was now a grayish-crimson in color, and had nearly doubled in size. The Realmstone on the other hand was rapidly shrinking. Though far larger than the gray stone, it seemed as though it was being swallowed and absorbed. The Realmstone had lost a third of its mass, which was vastly more than the grey stone seemed to have taken. The red crystal continued to liquefy and flow into the much smaller stone.

    Finally it was done. There Realmstone was mostly gone, though what was left sparked pitifully. The gray stone dropped to the ground, though it was now tinged red.

    Then the edges of his vision began to fade and he began to feel like he was fading away. Everything started to become hazy and unfocused, the feelings and sensations that had been so clear to him moments before began to fade away.

    Help¡­

    In the distance Mar could hear the same quiet voice from earlier. This time, Mar could tell that it came from the stone.

    As Mar awoke he became aware of a set of bells dimly clanging in the background. No, not bells. It was vibrations carried on air magic, designed to imitate the sound of an impossibly loud bell. He knew the sound. It was what the city officials used to signal everyone in Orlem to drop what they were doing and listen, because there was an important announcement right after.

    Gods damn it! Mar glanced out his window at the bright mid-morning light. He never slept this late. What had come over him?

    ¡°ATTENTION ALL CITIZENS OF ORLEM!¡± A crackling shout burst through Mar¡¯s window. Opening the shutters Mar leaned out and peered at the mana socket on the obelisk the next block over from which the voice was coming from. The obelisk in Dirtflea market was a botched job so the voice came out crackly and partially monotone. Even the Realmstone was biased against the poorest citizens of the city it seemed.

    ¡°I am proud to announce the beginning of the 2999¡¯th Mages¡¯ Trial, as well as the three-thousandth anniversary of the founding of Orlem!¡±

    There was a great cheering outside of Mar¡¯s building, mostly from the other regions of the city. The area around Dirtflea was apathetic at best. But three thousand years under the same system of government was nothing to sneeze at. Most other human nations tended to collapse after a mere few hundred years. Of course, stability was easy when the people at the top had all worked out how to extend their lives for hundreds, if not thousands of years.

    ¡°Today at this sacred ritual held for every class of mages we celebrate the foundation of our beautiful nation, and it¡¯s great strength! Here we shall pit the best and brightest of the young generation of magic wielders against each other. Your actions and success in the trial will be taken into account by the censors to determine your duties as a mage citizen. There will be viewing scryings in the central plaza. Every attendee of Orlem¡¯s own illustrious school of magic has been included by default. Any last minute opt-in¡¯s or opt-outs will need to be handled in the school¡¯s administration building. Magic and enchanted tools or weapons that are known to influence the spirit realm are banned for the duration of todays events, and assisting the competitors in any way is strictly forbidden. Also, any actions taken against the bodies of competitors while they are in the spirit realm will be met the the harshest of penalties. All mundanes may take back seats at the central plaza to watch the events unfold. The senate has declared today an official holiday, and thus most governmental offices will be closed. Best of luck to our competitors.¡±

    It was those damned trials again. He glanced at the mark on his hand, remembering how he had failed to remove it with his experiments the previous night. He still had to get that thing removed, otherwise he¡¯d get sucked into the spirit realm and have to hide his spirit in some dark crevice somewhere all day while the trials went on. Either that or go through the painful and humiliating process of being cannon fodder for the mages to rack up points with the censors.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    Without mana, or ki in the case of the rare martial-art user, a normal human simply couldn¡¯t keep up. This didn¡¯t bother most people, nowadays the League of Free Cities was so solidified under Orlem¡¯s boot that it was mostly the subservient city states along the borders that did the fighting.

    For the mages however, the trials were still a very big thing. Mages were the pride of Orlem, and their greatest strength. What would take a dozen masons six months could be done by an earth mage in an afternoon. The roles that the nobility filled in other cities and countries were filled by mages in Orlem. That¡¯s why Orlem was run by the High Council, a table where all the greatest mages of Orlem gathered to decide policy for not just Orlem but the entire Hegemony.

    Everyone on the council was a mage, without exception. While there had been non-mages on the council before, they never lasted, since most of the positions would be held by the same person for several hundred years. Potions could do wonders for anyone wealthy enough to buy them consistently, but they weren¡¯t a reliable source of prolonging life. Only mages who had perfected the secrets of life-extension could hope to have a substantial impact on society.

    The whole point of the exercise was for the mages to determine the hierarchy amongst themselves. For many it was just bragging rights, but for those not born into an established mage family it was their opportunity to prove themselves useful and be adopted into one of the minor branch families. If they possessed exceptional talent they could even marry or be adopted into the main line of one of the great families. Unfortunately those mages without connections, many of their better connected peers would have spent months before the trials making alliances and preparing strategies to succeed in the trial. Many of them would enter the trial together as a group, and the fact that this year the trial was a battle royal made having allies even more important.

    That¡¯s what Verona was trying to do. With her talent she had a tangible chance at the first place prize, but not if she entered the competition alone. That¡¯s where the Pyarastern¡¯s came in. Darrik and his family had the personnel and the connections to other families to assemble a team which had a shot at placing very highly. A team that Verona could be part of.

    Mar dressed himself hurriedly and headed towards the administration building. The first thing he¡¯d do is take up that clerk on his offer to let him cut to the front of the line and get the mark on the back of his hand removed so the spell to signal the start of the tournament wouldn¡¯t suck him into the spirit realm. Then he¡¯d head over to the school''s atrium and grab a seat in front of Verona¡¯s scrying portal so he could watch Verona compete. Then once everything was over he could congratulate her and have a proper goodbye. Hopefully Yavin would show up by then to take the gray stone off his hands.

    Mar arrived at the school in just a few minutes. There was traffic in that direction along the floating paths but Mar knew plenty of roundabout ways to reach the school. He arrived at the administration building and was surprised to find that there was a sizable number of people inside. Most of them bore the robes of mages from other cities. Some last minute applicants then, from the more distant cities in the League.

    ¡°¡ªAnd so the rules of the Trial are simple.¡± The same master from yesterday explained to the new arrivals. ¡°Everyone who is competing will be transported to the spirit realm. The trial is, in essence, a race back to the city and ultimately the heart of the palace, combined with a battle royal to get there. There will be obstacles both magical and mundane barring your way. It will be your job to get as far as you can by the time the trials are over, which will be the moment one person manages to get to the Realmstone and bond with it.¡±

    There was some mumbled excitement in the crowd. Mar had heard most of this the previous day.

    ¡°That¡¯s it.¡± The announcer finished. ¡°I strongly recommend you find a quiet place to lay your body down while you¡¯re competing in the spirit realm. Don¡¯t bother trying to camp out at the front gates the the palace. The spirit realm is folded differently from our own plane, so there¡¯s no guarantee that you¡¯ll be any closer then if you started in the farthest corner of the city.¡±

    One of the mages raised his hand. ¡°Excuse me, but why does this event take place in the spirit realm? Wouldn¡¯t it be easier to just have us compete regularly?¡±

    Several of the mages from Orlem burst out laughing, and the master smirked.

    ¡°I see Myryr really does only teach the basics. Figures, being on a border with the Empire means you¡¯ve got more interest in the immediate applications then delving into the true mysteries of magic.¡±

    ¡°The trials take place in the spirit realm for three main reasons. Firstly, it is much more difficult to die in the spirit realm. You mages, young and inexperienced as you are, are valuable to Orlem, and the League. Secondly, mana is more freely available in the spirit realm, and it is much easier to make spells work, seeing as how you aren¡¯t really manifesting them into the physical realm. When combined with the increased mana density offered by the Realmstone, many of you out of town mages will find that you are orders of magnitude more powerful during the trials then you are otherwise accustomed to being.¡±

    The eyes of several of the mages lit up, and there was some excited whispering.

    The master continued her lecture. ¡°Finally, it¡¯s much easier to monitor and keep track of you all for score keeping purposes then it would be if you were physically running around the city.¡±

    There were more questions after that, but Mar realized that none of it pertained to him and so he squeezed by the gathered crowd, looking for the clerk from yesterday.

    The other clerks were dealing with lines of their own, mostly last minute applications for entry. Eventually Mar asked a secretary where he could find the clerk from yesterday and she told him that he was on break.

    Mar opened the back door to look around behind the building, where he expected to find the clerk out back smoking a pipe or eating. Instead he saw a flash of familiar long black hair. She was walking off in the direction of the alchemy labs with some of the people Mar had seen her training with the other day. Mar double checked, making sure Darrik wasn¡¯t there with her.

    He should go wish her luck. Apologize for seeming grumpy the last time they spoke. He could tell her that he¡¯d be cheering for her.

    ¡°Verona!¡± He shouted. She turned towards the crowd, but didn¡¯t see him.

    Mar shouted again but was jostled by the crowd. Verona shrugged to herself, and then turned back to her fellow mages. The group continued walking and soon Verona taking a right turn through an alley between two buildings.

    Mar tried to catch up to her but several mages who were hustling into the administration building got in his way. By the time he was able to push through them Verona was slipping away. He could just faintly see the back of her heels as the sped around a sharp corner.

    Mar followed, trying to catch up. He made the turn around the building and looked around. Verona was nowhere to be seen.

    This was one of the older areas of the school. The buildings were packed together, and the alleys between them formed a confusing maze. Navigating through them was no trouble for someone who had grown up here like Mar though. Mar took a left turn and a right turn, planning to cut Verona off as she made it around the corner, before she met up with the rest of her group so he would be able to talk to her alone.

    But then as Mar was just about to take a second right turn he ran face to face into a fully charged warwand. Behind the warwand was a young man, face half obscured behind a sinister black cloak.

    ¡°Trying to do some last minute spying eh?¡± The young man behind the wand asked suspiciously. ¡°Who do you work for? Which family!¡± he demanded.

    ¡°Uh- I was just trying to catch up to- uh¡­¡± Mar stammered. Having a loaded warwand pointed at your face tends to reduce language skills, and Mar felt he was rather coherent for somebody whose life was suddenly and unexpectedly put in danger. ¡°I was just looking for somebody is all.¡± Mar finally got out. ¡°I thought you were them, sorry.¡± Mar noticed the young man had long black hair, just like Verona.

    ¡°A likely story.¡± The young man sneered. Three more mages in matching colors appeared next to the young man. ¡°We don¡¯t have time for this Chetz. The trials will begin any second.¡± The other mage said to the young black haired man holding the warwand. Chetz threw back the hood of his cloak and grunted in acknowledgment. Mar recognized him. It was that arrogant prick of a mage he had bumped into the other day.

    ¡°Listen.¡± Chetz said. ¡°I know just the way to show a little spy his place. We¡¯re not going to let you meet up with your group beforehand. Instead, you¡¯re going to shift into the spirit realm with us. I could use the bonus points from an early knockout.¡±

    Some particularly wealthy mages would hire other mages who had no hope of doing well and bring them along as part of their unofficial team. They would be paid well just to allow themselves to be knocked out of the Trials so that wealthy mages could effectively buy points. Mar expected that Darrik had purchased some such services for himself, which is probably why he wasn¡¯t with the rest of his team. Knowing Darrik, he¡¯d want those points all to himself and would have instructed the rest of his team to meet him after the battle had started.

    Mar had briefly considered selling his services in such a way to a mage, but decided against it when he found out mundanes were worth a pitifully small amount of points. The humiliation of being cannon fodder to the arrogant mages wouldn¡¯t be worth the coin.

    ¡°Oh no, I¡¯m not even a mage.¡± Mar explained. ¡°They wouldn¡¯t give you any points for me.¡±

    ¡°Hey¡­¡± Chetz squinted at Mar in recognition, you¡¯re that arrogant prick who bumped into me yesterday! If you¡¯re not a mage then why were you at this school?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not a-¡± Mar sighed. He¡¯d explained this so many times. ¡°It¡¯s a long story. I¡¯m not a mage though. Just look at my aura with your mage sight.¡±

    Chetz blinked, looking at Mar with his mage sight. Suddenly Mar felt a flash of heat wash over him. Similar to that moment when he had fought the guards at the Pyrastern estate. ¡°Ha! Stupidest lie I¡¯ve ever heard. You look like a mage if I¡¯ve ever seen one!¡± Chetz blinked away his mage sight, and instantly the feeling was gone.

    ¡°Chetz. We need to get back. The Trials will start soon, and you know there is a no latecomers policy.¡± One of the other mages said. Chetz flipped the hood of his black cloak back up, concealing most of his face.

    ¡°Alright. Grab his arms.¡± Chetz commanded.

    Mar couldn¡¯t respond. He was still feeling dizzy from that sudden sensation running through him. Had that been mana? But the way it had been running though him hadn¡¯t been like when he touched a mana stone. It hadn¡¯t just been passing through him. For that moment he felt as though he could have reached out and touched it with his mind. Manipulated it. Used it, like a mage.

    Chetz¡¯s friends dragged Mar into the back alley, and Chetz had a firm grip on Mar¡¯s arm when they made it back to where his friends had been waiting. Most of them sat down on the ground. They all had sheets lain down and two of them had make-shift cots for themselves. A pair of heavily mucled men in armor stood around waiting. They were likely privately employed by the mages to make sure nobody messed with their bodies while they were out in the spirit realm.

    ¡°Really, I¡¯m not a mage.¡± Mar insisted.

    ¡°Shut it, you spoiled Orlem brat. We¡¯ll show you Volfdown is twice as powerful as your rat-dung pile of the city, and deserves to the rightful head of the League!¡±

    ¡°Any second now¡­¡± the girl in the back muttered.

    ¡°If you try anything other then obediently getting blasted by my warwand¡± Chetz snarled. I¡¯ll have Brute there hurt you here in the real world.¡± He nodded at the taller and angrier looking guard.

    Suddenly a bell rang and runes lit up alone the hands of all the mages present. Mar glanced at his own hand to find that his own mark was glowing as well. There was a burst of light and Mar felt the peculiar sensation of being dragged into his own aura. It was like a burst of light across his entire being, not unlike the feeling he¡¯d gotten the first time he¡¯d connected to the gray stone.

 Keeper of the Realm 4

    The alley around Mar and the black-clad mages vanished. The world blurred but eventually the tugging sensation at the center of Mar¡¯s being began to ease. After several long moments Mar was able to see straight again. Mar looked around and realized the area around him was completely different from before. It was was on top of a hill in an empty green field. Off in the distance where he knew the rest of the city lay he saw pale specters floating across the ground. Mar realized those must be the spirits of everyone in the city, the cloudy haze the only thing visible of them from the spirit realm.

    The spirit realm was bizarre, and yet strangely familiar. He couldn¡¯t recognize any of the scenery around him, and none of it resembled either Orlem¡¯s school of magic or the wider city around it. Orlem wasn¡¯t a planned city but there was order to it. The roads were straight and the buildings were mostly square and packed together neatly. In the spirit realm there were tall pillars of somethings strewn every which way. Mar wouldn¡¯t have called them buildings, they were more like a thousand different people had sculpted a random shape out of clay and then piled them atop one another. The spirit realm was a place of thoughts, ideas, and emotion so it was no wonder that every feature appeared to have a thousand different hands at work crafting it.

    Mar tried to blink and clear the blurriness out of his eyes, but he realized he couldn¡¯t. He panicked for a few moments before he remembered an old book he had read about the spirit realm. The most common practice when coming here was to immediately manifest a humanoid body that was as similar to the mage¡¯s real body as they could manage. The familiar form would provide focus for a mind that would otherwise wander. Ordinarily traversing the spirit realm would be quite dangerous, but the mages would all be trained and the entire trial would be carefully overseen.

    Mar turned his thoughts inward and began to concentrate. To anyone looking, the cloudy shape of his spirit began to twirl and twist into itself until it was tightly packed like a ball. Then five projections shot out of the floating white sphere like the the limbs of a five pointed star. Four of them extended and morphed into crude arms and legs. The fifth one at the top stayed short and stumpy. The ball that had been at the center of the star-like shape shifted upwards and attached itself to the truncated limb, forming a head.

    Fingers formed at the ends of the upper limbs, and toes on the lower ones. Mar refined the shape of the limbs to bend at the joints in the right way, picturing his own skeletal structure to refine the motions. With the basics down, he began working on the details. He formed facial features on his head and sprouted hair. Mar was trying to get the color of his eyes right when he realized he¡¯d never studied that detail of himself very well. He knew they were a vague shade of amber but Mar just couldn¡¯t get them to feel right. In frustration he just made them the same color as his hair. He clothed himself exactly as he remembered he had that morning.

    Mar glanced at his hands and body. Everything was so ethereal. The thick and coarse weave of his cheap tunic seemed thin and gossamer, though Mar knew the clothes he imagined he was wearing were only a projection generated by his own mind.

    He took a few moments to appreciate the weightless feeling. He took a deep breath even though he knew this form didn¡¯t need such corporal things. He had read so much about the spirit realm, but not being a mage he assumed he would never be able to venture there. Everything here was forged from the mind, and altering it was merely an effort of will. After all, the entire spirit realm was forged from thoughts and dreams.

    Mar glanced at his tunic again. He thought about how soft and well trimmed the ones the school had provided him in his youth had been. He had had a favorite set of clothes back then. They were the clothes of someone wealthy and powerful. The robes of a young mage destined for greatness. Mar recalled how they felt on his skin, and how they slid against his body as he moved. To his delight he found himself wearing the very clothes he was remembering, scaled up to match the size of his seventeen year old body.

    Mar noticed other figures flickering uneasily into existence around him. Those must be the mages who lay around him the the physical world. He braced himself for the ¡®killing¡¯ blast of magic that would send him back to the physical realm. It wasn¡¯t like he could do anything except wait to be sent back. The magic cast for the Trial would prevent him from re-entering his body unless it deemed that he had taken sufficient damage to be knocked out. He could try to run from them, but they were mages. They had likely practiced in the spirit realm before and would no doubt know enough of it¡¯s ins-and-outs to catch him in no time. And even if he got away he would just be blasted to smithereens by another mage who saw him as free points.

    Worse, Chetz and company might take enough offense to decide to rough him up in the real world. Mar¡¯s bones still ached from Darrik¡¯s little stunt with the rocks the other night. The most productive thing he could do with this time would be to figure out how he was going to talk himself out of the situation his physical body was in.

    Mar was surprised to see how long it was taking the mages to manifest bodies for themselves. And how crude their attempts were. Of those that could even produce human-like shapes, only one of them had any features besides a general blobish form. Maybe the mages from Orlem were right to act so superior if this was supposed to be the best and brightest of Volfsdown.

    Mar continued refining his own ethereal body while he waited. It was quite exhilarating really. He¡¯d read so much about the spirit realm but never thought he¡¯d get to test out what he had read for himself.

    Mar glanced around. The voice had been so crisp and clear, totally unlike the distorted half-formed sounds that could be heard constantly buzzing in the background in the spirit realm.

    <In your pocket.> the voice continued.

    Mar reached into his pocket and his fingers touched the face of the gray stone.

    ¡°Hoaaarw yoo¡± Mar tried to speak but the words dribbled off his tongue like a mouthful of sand. He realized that he had forgotten to build internal organs for himself and set about producing a set of lungs and throat.

    <Don¡¯t bother with that.> the voice Mar now realized belonged to the gray stone commanded. <It¡¯s much easier to speak mind-to-mind in the spirit world. That¡¯s how I am able to talk with so little mana to power myself.>

    Mar looked at the stone, furrowing his brow in concentrating, dimly aware of the fact that he had to modify the texture of his skin in order to do so.

    <Y-you¡¯re the¡­ stone?> Mar tried to ask telepathically.

    <Yes, fleshling. I¡¯m the stone. Or at least part of it. I¡¯ve been talking with the other entity that¡¯s inside here and it¡¯s given me some very good reasons for its actions the other night. In fact, I think winning this stupid little game you meatbags put on will be very good for us, so that¡¯s what we¡¯re going to do.>

    Mar mentally snorted. <Even if I thought that was a good idea ¡ªwhich I don¡¯t¡ª I wouldn¡¯t be able to win the Trials. All the top mages are competing. This is what their entire lives up to this point have lead up to. They¡¯ve been practicing for the past seven yea¡ª> This time it was the stone¡¯s turn to snort in amusement.

    <Seven pitiful years of practice means little to me, mortal. I¡¯ve been alive since¡­ since¡­ well, I can¡¯t remember exactly, but I¡¯m sure it¡¯s been a long time.>

    Mar huffed. <Thousands of years of experience won¡¯t do you any good without mana or a body. And you don¡¯t have either.>

    <You know human, you¡¯ve got the highest base mana regeneration rate of any mortal I can remember ever seeing. With a few modifications you¡¯d be able to sustain our functionality indefinitely once some of the larger holes in our circuitry are patched.>

    <Ser cu¡¯ e¡¯ tree? What¡¯s that?> Mar asked in confusion.

    <Ley lines.> the stone corrected. <Complicated artificial ley lines. So what do you say human? Shall we make a pact? My offer still stands.>

    <Master Warric¡¯s the best artificer in Orlem, and if he thought you were repairable he would have said so. Secondly, I¡¯ll never make a pact with you demon. Not even if the burning pits of the abyss freeze over and the elder gods return. I¡¯ve read about what happens to warlocks. I will not be turned into your puppet of destruction.>

    The stone made a ticking sound. It reminded Mar of how his nursemaid used to cluck her tongue at him whenever she was annoyed.

    <This makes things much more difficult. This process would have been much easier if you¡¯d just accepted the wealth and power. At least then you could have maintained the delusion of control.>

    Mar felt the stone in his hand grow warm. Then it started to get hot. Really hot. The ley lines inside of it became visible and they latched into Mar¡¯s ethereal body. Mar threw it to the ground but the feeling didn¡¯t go away.

    He felt at his hip where his pocket was. That¡¯s where the painful invasive sensation was coming from. Mar felt around but there was nothing in his pocket. He glanced at the gray stone which he had thrown to the ground, but it was no longer there.

    Mar pulled up his shirt and saw that thin, pulsating lines were traveling across his body. They reached his right shoulder and it was like all sensation in that arm went suddenly dark. As if the arm was no longer his.

    <Ahh!?> Mar mentally exclaimed in fright. <You¡¯re not supposed to be able too¡­ you need a contract! A warlock has to let you in. You can¡¯t just take over a body!>

    The stone cackled malevolently. <You yourself realized I am not a warlock¡¯s totem, or even an enchanter¡¯s eye! We are more than merely the sum of our parts! As for your body, think about where I am, and where you are, fleshling. You¡¯re mind is off in the spirit world, separated from your mortal shell. Meanwhile I¡¯m tucked safely away in your pocket in the physical world. I started intercepting the signals to your nervous system the moment you left the physical realm. Soon I¡¯ll have full control of your physical body. The only thing left to do is to dominate your aura and eventually make it mine. With access to that massive mana supply I¡¯ll be able to move freely in the physical realm! At last!>

    <No¡­> Mar whispered in horror. His body was not going to become the plaything of a demon. His soul would become a part of the spirit in the stone. <No, no, no.> The stone would make him kill people. Hurt them brutally. And the whole time they¡¯d be thinking it was him.

    <GET OUT OF MY BODY!> Mar screamed mentally. The ley lines stopped their spread across Mar¡¯s spirit body. Then, slowly at first, they started shrinking. Slowly, bit by bit they started retreating back towards Mar¡¯s hip.

    It was the stone¡¯s turn to be shocked and confused. <Impossible!> the stone snarled.

    <Aren¡¯t you just full of surprises, human. I must have become weaker then I thought. No matter. This will just take a bit more¡­>

    The pain in Mar¡¯s side doubled, but he grit his teeth and held on. <GET OUT!> Mar screeched, but force of will could only get him so far, even in the spirit realm. They came to a stalemate. The stone was unable to take over Mar¡¯s ethereal body, but Mar was unable to completely banish the stone¡¯s influence. Even worse he felt a peculiar sensation like he was asleep but his body was moving. The stone must have started manipulating his physical body.

    <You¡¯re a stubborn one.> the stone remarked dryly. <But no matter. I have complete control of your physical body. Dispatching these guards will be difficult unarmed and without magic, but not impossible.>

    <So you¡¯re going to hold my body hostage?> Mar asked abrasively.

    <That¡¯s right. Quite a powerful spell that¡¯s running this little ¡®Trial¡¯ think of yours. The Realmstone¡¯s work no doubt. Very few meatbags would be able to direct enough mana for a spellweaving with such a massive effect. But it¡¯s function is clear enough. Once one of the other competitors blasts you back into the physical realm you¡¯ll come flying right into my clutches. I need only wait for that pathetic creature behind you to finally manifest a form sufficient to destroy yours.>

    <Or maybe I¡¯ll take my body right back from you as soon as I get back in it.>

    <Ha! You had the home ground advantage in the spirit realm, but I¡¯m digging my claws in deeper and deeper into your physical body as we speak.>

    Then Mar had an idea. <Maybe I¡¯ll just wait you out. It takes mana for you to function, so maybe I¡¯ll just keep myself here in the spirit realm and wait you out.>

    There was silence for a few moments before the stone spoke. <I could kill you human. There are plenty of other hosts for me. Any one of these mages would do. All it would take from me is a sloppy grab for the dagger at that large human''s hip. You would be left stranded in the spirit realm. A rogue spirit without a body.>Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.

    Before Mar could respond a pale figure clothed in half-formed rags stood up. It was a crude approximation of a human. It¡¯s legs came to points and it balanced precariously on them. It¡¯s hands were like mittens and lacked individual fingers. But still it stood, and from the folds of it¡¯s torn and ragged cloak it withdrew a shape of short wooden rod. A warwand.

    ¡°B-bastard Orl-Orlem mages.¡± The figure mumbled unsteadily. ¡°Mana¡­ is d-different here. No w-wonder you cheats a-always win.¡± The human-esque creature stuttered out verbally. Studying it, Mar realized that this must be Chetz¡¯s manifestation. Four other blobish shapes were pulling themselves together around the same time, and two of them seemed to be aware of their surroundings. All seemed to be slow and lethargic though. Mar was surprised, since for him movement in the spirit realm wasn¡¯t any more difficult than in the physical realm.

    <You¡¯re damn lucky.> Chetz growled, pointing his wand back at Mar¡¯s face. <You get to be the first sacrifice to Chetz Illarious. After I win this stupid trial of yours I¡¯ll lead Volfsdown to replace Orlem as the leader of the League! My name will go down in the history books. Be grateful for this small part I am giving you in my glorious story.>

    Mar turned around and looked down at Chetz, whose humanoid form was hunched and disfigured. Despite his bluster, he seemed so¡­ weak. So fragile. In comparison, Mar felt as strong as he did in physical body.

    Chetz hissed and mana bubbled from the center of his aura. Mar realized that Chetz¡¯s manifestation wasn¡¯t as simple as he originally thought. It was made out of his aura after all, and that included all of the modified bits and pieces that Mages used to manipulate mana. As the raw energy tore through Chetz¡¯s arm it lit up the elaborate series of patterns that instantly forced the mana into a spell pattern. Mar realized this is what combat casting actually looked like. Weaving a spell with raw magic by hand was tedious and impossible in a short time span, so instead mages forced mana through pre-made spell templates which allowed for much shorter cast times. The downside to this being that an aura could only fit so many templates at once.

    The air around the warwand stirred and rumbled as electricity arced off of it. The bolt of lightning sped towards Mar. He¡¯d seen this spell demonstrated before, but something didn¡¯t seem quite right. It was so slow. As if the bolt of electricity were traveling through molasses. Mar stepped to the side and allowed the bolt to glide easily past him.

    <That¡¯s an impressive body you¡¯ve made for yourself. No doubt they¡¯ve drilled you Orlem mages here endlessly to give you every possible advantage against us.> Chetz sputtered. <Nevermind that. I can exploit this realm just as well as you can! There¡¯s so much free mana here I can cast a spell ten times as powerful!>

    Chetz began channeling mana again and it accumulated just as fast as it had before, but this time he held the position for much longer, ever second charging a more powerful blast of magic. Even using a spell template carved into his aura, this spell was taking Chetz time to cast. Mar knew it would be stupid to give him any more of it.. He closed the distance between them and punched Chetz in the stomach.

    <Gaah!> Chetz let out a pained telepathic shriek, which Mar assumed meant he had done something right. Electricity arced from Chetz warwand back into the caster, skittering all over Chetz¡¯s body. Mar watched curiously as his opponent doubled over in pain, sparks flying off him in all directions. This must be spell backlash.

    That¡¯s when something hard and cold impacted the back of Mar¡¯s head, slamming his whole body forward to meet the ground. He realized that he¡¯d forgotten about the other mages.

    Mar winced in pain, but he was able to get up. Three of the four were moving now. They had manifested bodies much like Chetz, though somewhat lower in quality and each flawed in their own way. Perhaps Mar had misread something and building an accurate human body wasn¡¯t actually standard technique for surviving in the spirit realm, but Mar was beginning to suspect that these mages were simply bad at this. Mar focused on the back of his head, redistributing his aura and repairing his manifestation using new mana drawn from his center.

    <Beetle dung. He¡¯s already regenerated! We need more firepower, everyone at once, Now!> a female voice was mentally projected from a blob-like creature that vaguely resembled a human to Mar¡¯s right.

    With Chetz down she seemed to be taking the lead, so Mar prioritized her and charged the blob-like creature. He tackled it, and her gelatinous form gave way instantly, letting Mar pass harmlessly through it. Then he took a blast of water magic to the face. To Mar it felt like he had stuck his head under a waterfall. It was quickly followed by two similar spells, one of which burned like fire and another that sliced at him like a whip. Those were probably a fireball and wind slice, respectively.

    Mar¡¯s left arm fell to the ground from the force of the magic hitting him. He glanced down at the stump, which was dripping golden colored mana. He focused at it for a moment, drawing mana in from his center and pulling it towards wound. It was strange seeing his body damaged so, even though he knew none of this was real and he felt no pain from it. Within seconds he formed a new arm in it¡¯s place.

    Mar roared mentally and swept the stray bits of elemental mana from his body, casting it aside. He charged at the blob again and swept his hand through it as if his arm were a blade. He dug out a handful of the mushy substance that made up her aura in this twisted plane of existence. The water mage shrieked in response, and began preparing another blast of water magic. He cupped his hands like shovels and began tearing into the blob, ripping chunks out and throwing them aside. He¡¯d removed a head sized chunk of mass by the time the thing collapsed in on itself, dissolving as the mind controlling the manifestation was sent skittering back to her real body by the Realmstone.

    Mar didn¡¯t waste any time. As soon as the water mage seemed to be incapacitated he leapt on the pyromancer and grabbed his manifestation by it¡¯s crooked neck, hurling it into the gangly form of the air mage. Then he leapt on the earth mages back and pushed it¡¯s crab-like humanoid form face first into the dirt. He grabbed one of the arms and began to pull.

    Just when Mar was starting to feel something breaking he was hit in the back by a massive bolt of energy. Chetz was back up and had hit him with a bolt of electricity.

    <I admit, you¡¯re a damn good spirit mage. I¡¯d thought Orlem frowned on such magics. Too easy to turn to necromancy or chimeramancy, but apparently not they haven¡¯t forgone the art entirely.>

    Mar groaned. His manifestation was hurting badly. Most of his torso had been blown to pieces and was only being held together by the spine he had built his body around.

    <That was a good show you put on. But we all know you¡¯re kind are useless in a real fight.> Chetz loosed another blast of electric magic. This time at point-blank range. It tore through Mar¡¯s manifestation, which he was just starting to pull back together.

    <You have quite the mana regeneration rate. This might take a few blasts.> Chetz followed his comment with another burst of magic that completely separated Mar¡¯s legs from the rest of his manifestation.

    Mar twisted his arm behind his back and tried to grab at the leg jabbing into his back, but it was too much effort. Chetz responded by grinding his pointed foot harder into Mar¡¯s back. Mar re-modifying his manifestation, trying to repair the damage, but with Chetz standing so close it was hard to move his aura around.

    <I¡¯m surprised the Realmstone is letting you take this much damage before sucking you back to the physical realm. It must think you¡¯re tougher than most. But in this case that just means you¡¯re going to whimper slightly longer than you otherwise would have.> Chetz blasted him with magic again, scattering Mar¡¯s attempt at reforming a body.

    <You cost me a team member. Valesa was our scout. It¡¯s going to be much harder to mount an ambush without her, and that makes me very upset.> Chetz dug one of the pointed stumps at the end of his legs into the back of Mar¡¯s neck. He pointed down wards with the warwand. <I bet she¡¯s pissed about being knocked out so early, so I¡¯ll send you back to her so she can pay you back. Don¡¯t bother running.> Then as an afterthought he added <Oh, and don¡¯t let her kill you. I still want to find out who hired you to spy on our plans for the Trial. I bet it was the Pyrasterns. Those arrogant bastards.>

    While Chetz ranted to himself the area around Mar¡¯s leg started to grow warm. He knew without looking that veins of mana were creeping along his manifested body, but this time he didn¡¯t have the strength to fight back against them.

    Mar couldn¡¯t hold onto complete control but He wasn¡¯t about to give up his entire being to the entity in the stone. Mar pulled at his aura around him and pulled inwards with all his might, building a shield around himself. Just in time, because that¡¯s when the tendrils reached his manifestations head.

    Chetz noticed the shifting of the body under him. He grew more alarmed when the veins of mana could been seen creeping across them.

    <What in the hells!? Chetz exclaimed loudly. He let loose another bolt of electric mana, sheering off Mar¡¯s only remaining limb, and sending the newly built orb Mar had built to protect himself flying off a dozen paces.

    It was only then that he noticed the pieces he¡¯d been blasting off Mar weren¡¯t dissipating into free mana. They were retaining their shape, coming together and reforming.

    <What type of trickery is this? I¡¯ve never heard of a spell that could¡­ Is this some sort of conjured monster?> He trailed off as the mana started forming a body of its own. It was human shaped, though a bit smaller then Mar¡¯s original body. It was more detailed than even Mar¡¯s original form, though it was completely lacking any sort of head.

    <Blast that thing!> Chetz commanded to his remaining subordinates.

    The air, earth, and fire mages all turned their hands, warwands, and staffs towards the collection of rouge mana. Fireballs, wind slices, earth darts, and a massive electric bolt blasted into the headless figure.

    <That... Will... Show... Him...> Chetz said between heavy breaths. <Now, we have a competiton to win.>

    <Uhh, boss?> questioned the air mage. <I don¡¯t think we got it.> She murmured nervously in thought-speech.

    Chetz turned and saw that the figure was still standing, completely unscathed. A shimmering bubble flickered around the headless creature.

    <Idiots! You let him get a shield up! And you call yourselves mages!> Chetz cursed.

    <That¡¯s not a shield, that¡¯s an electrical mana absorption field!> The air mage shouted in alarm while backing away.

    Chetz snorted. <If he had an affinity for my magic he would have used it to fight back. He¡¯s not a combat mage.>

    The last of the sparks from Chetz¡¯s blast fizzled out. They had been suspended in the air around the shield, slowly growing weaker before dissipating entirely.

    <Boss, he just absorbed your lightning bolt! Combat mage or no, he can use your magic!> the earth mage commented in alarm.

    Chetz roared angrily. <Alright, so you¡¯re better then you let on. So, you let us catch you in that alley. Was this your big plan? Get close to us and then take me out right at the beginning of the Trials? I think you underestimated me! Nobody makes a fool out of Chetz Illarius!> And then Chetz let loose a massive continuous stream of lightning from his warwand. It let loose with a thunderous crack, but it was brought to a dead stop by the shield in front of the headless figure.

    <No you idiot! That¡¯s an electric mana absorption field! You¡¯re only making his shield stronger.> The air mage protested.

    Chetz ignored her. <Stop standing there and help me kill this bastard!>

    Immediately several others started chanting and soon the mages were blasting hammering the shield with their offensive spells, from all sides. There was a cloud of dust and the spells sizzled out.

    <That... Will... Show... Him...> Chetz said between heavy breaths. <Now to deal with our troublesome friend.> Chetz turned back towards the still smoldering husk that was Mar¡¯s manifestation in the spirit realm.

    Just then the dust cleared and the headless figure could be seen stepping forth from the cloud of debris.

    <Delicious.>

    <Impossible< one of Chetz companions said. <His shields held though all of that?>

    <Not shields.> The air mage said in awe. <Absorption fields. Our spells were just converted back into raw mana and absorbed, even across the full spectrum of elements.>

    <Who the hell are you!> Chetz demanded. <There are only three people who can use the full spectrum of elements from our generation! Illatheil Verandon, Mathic Mvort, and that orphaned half-elf bitch.>

    The spectral figure let out a deep chuckled that resonated strangely, as if they were in a small room instead of an open field.

    Chetz turned back towards where Mar had been thrown. <That sphere! It must be the weak point! If we damage his primary manifestation enough the Realmstone will send him back!> Chetz picked up the object that had been the head of Mar¡¯s manifestation until a minute ago. It was the most intact piece that remained of his original body.

    <I don¡¯t know how the Realmstone is letting you stay in the spirit realm after taking this much of a beating, but I plan on finishing you off here and now.> Chetz growled at the unresponsive white orb in his hand.

    Mar had changed shape again. He¡¯d abandoned all semblance of human form, gathering as much of his essence as he could salvage and dragging it together towards him, forming a hard, crystalline sphere. The red tendrils from that had taken over the rest of his body were unable to penetrate its glossy surface. Even now they still clawed at the shell around him to no effect.

    Chetz grabbed the sphere in both of his crudely formed hands. He squeezed them between his fingers, channeling mana into electric energy and driving it into the sphere. Then, as if he blinked as missed something, the sphere disappeared from in front of him. Along with his hands.

    Chetz gazed at the stumps in uncomprehending confusion. In a flash the headless figure closed the distance between them and grabbed Chetz by the back of the head. The center of it¡¯s chest opened up, revealing a sinister looking vertical mouth. The mouth opened up to reveal rows of sharp teeth like a shark, and they expanded outwards, far larger than the size of the body should have allowed.

    The creature lunged forward, engulfing Chetz in its maw and sucking him inside.

    <D-did that thing just eat Chetz? This screws everything up! We needed him to make it to the city! We¡¯ll never even make it past the first challenge now!> the earth mage exclaimed.

    The headless manifestation closed it¡¯s mouth and reverted to a mostly human form. It strode over to the place where Mar lay and picked up the hard, milky white pearl of aura he had encased himself in, placing it on top of it¡¯s headless neck. More red tendrils creeped out of the creature''s neck and gripped the crystal orb, trying but failing to penetrate the hard outer shell.

    The air cleared her throat. <Good afternoon, sir poly-element. I don¡¯t know your name, but clearly you¡¯re more powerful than us. I¡¯d like to join your group. I¡¯m not so great with battle magic but I¡¯m good at breaking barrier enchantments, that¡¯s something you¡¯ll need if you¡¯re looking to get through the final doors to win first place, which you¡¯re no doubt aiming for.>

    <Synthia! What are you doing! We made a deal with the Illarius family! If you break it they¡¯ll be pissed!> the fire mage shouted at her.

    <Screw the Illarius family! I¡¯m hopping aboard a much bigger boat! Why, I bet¡ª> But she never finished her sentence. She felt a powerful and dangerous presence behind her. She noticed that the thing she had just been speaking to had vanished in a heartbeat¡¯s span. Tentacles of dark energy spilled forth from its shadow and wrapped the air mage firmly in it¡¯s grip.

    The voice spoke again in a deep and sinister voice, and even Mar behind his protective shell could make out the words as the reverberated through the air.

    <The only thing you can provide me, fleshling, is your mana. Which is what I¡¯ll be taking.>

    Synthia gasped as her aura was engulfed and absorbed. In a puff of light she disappeared as she was yanked back to her physical body. The swirling mass of black tentacles expanded, grabbing the two remaining mages and pulling them inward where they were quickly devoured.

    Then the spirit from the stone turned its attention inward, towards the egg-like sphere Mar had encased himself in.

 Keeper of the Realm 5

    The gray stone¡¯s black tentacles constricted around the shell of mana that protected Mar¡¯s consciousness from the demonic entity that sought to absorb it. They wrapped tighter and tighter until an onlooker wouldn¡¯t have been able to see milky-white shell of mana underneath the writhing mass of tentacles.

    <Give up fleshling. Surrender your essence, so that your power may be used to increase my own.> The gray stone commanded telepathically.

    Mar heard the message, but didn¡¯t know how to respond, trapped as he was. It was small and cramped inside the orb of mana. Mar didn¡¯t have a body. It was just like how he had felt when he had first been transported into the spirit world. He was a collection of thoughts and ideas, unbound and without constraints. This place was like a tiny microcosm of the spirit realm, only inside here all the thoughts and ideas where his own. His memories flashed before his consciousness, and he felt as though he could scroll through all of them at will. Things were starting to feel odd. His body, or lack thereof, was influencing his perception. Emotions began to fade and a cool numbness overtook him.

    Mar analyzed his life dispassionately, as if he were just a bystander who had been looking over his own shoulder his entire life.

    Verona really had been just a boyhood crush. It was silly for him to hold out for her. He should have known that the moment the headmaster, with a sad grimace and a pat on the shoulder, had told him that he would never be a mage.

    That had been the day he had ceased to be anything special. The day they separated him from Verona and all the other young mages in training and threw him away in the library to be forgotten. That dismissal had been worse than a thousand beatings from Darrik and his cronies.

    For some reason, Mar¡¯s mind was drawn to the memory. In the waking world he avoided it like the plague, but here he had an incredible and indescribable urge to relive those moments. It was as if there was an itch in his mind that just needed to be stretched. With a moment of concentration, it materialized before his consciousness. Something seemed unusual about it, as if the memory before him and the one he thought he knew weren¡¯t exactly the same. He focused on vision before him, bringing it to life.

    Mar¡¯s eyes were fixed the circle in front of him. He¡¯d delicately drawn it in chalk, then erased it and redrawn it a thousand times, each time hoping that maybe if he just improved the spell diagram slightly or chanted a little better, the spell would finally work for him.

    He looked around the room. It was small and cramped, barely bigger than a closet. Instantly, Mar knew where he was. He had spent countless hours in this room, struggling and failing cast a spell. Mar looked down at his body. His proportions were wrong on him. His limbs felt different. His hands were smaller. Mar was a child again, at the age of eleven.

    All the other first year students had already gone home. It was a basic light spell. The kind that even a second order mage could do with a thought, and yet here Mar was, books splayed open before him, working through the full ritual for the thousandth time.

    The evidence of his many failures was visible in the form of the chalk dust on his pants and tunic, and the hoarseness in his voice from the constant chanting. The candles around him had burned down to the nubs.

    The sun had set hours ago, and the light of a new day had started creeping over the horizon. All the other students had left hours ago. Even the senior student who was supposed to supervise Mar headed home for the day. Not that Mar cared. The older boy had long ago given up assisting Mar, and usually left Mar to his own devices while he walked out to chat with friends. Mar had never stopped practicing though. Sure, the water, fire, and air varieties of the spell may have been no good for him, but he felt that if he just gave the earth variant an extra try with the full ritual he would be able to finally cast the spell.

    He¡¯d been disheartened to find his elemental affinities across the rest of the spectrum were so low that he couldn¡¯t even cast a basic light spell with them, but that meant his talent for earth magic had to be that much greater, right? It wouldn¡¯t be unusual for an mono-elemental earth mage to have trouble making light. The more Mar thought about it the more he convinced himself that he was right, and if he just tried a little harder he¡¯d be able to make this work.

    They¡¯d shoved him in the remedial class a month ago, with all the others who were slow to cast their first spell. That had been a full fourth of Mar¡¯s year of students at first, but one by one each of them had made a breakthrough and been sent to their appropriate departments. After three months, only Mar was left. And here he was, six months after that. They¡¯d moved him into a room barely bigger than a broom closet to make way for a new class of students. Mar had to move everything that had been inside of the closet out, but it even then it was just barely big enough for the enlarged spell diagram.

    He¡¯d had to dig through the library to find a complete drawing for this spell. Even the masters didn¡¯t know, since virtually everyone was able to build the spell-weave from the abbreviated diagram. Even making a template that could be embedded in a mage¡¯s aura didn¡¯t require the full diagram, though that was rarely done considering how simple the weave was. Mana was energy. Making light with magic was as simple as pushing mana through something and letting the energy bleed off into the physical world. Even one of Maste Quigain¡¯s pet goblins had demonstrated competency with the spell.

    ¡°Azgazar, forentine hosh mojur nivelium Moroth!¡± Mar shouted the chant in it¡¯s original language, just be certain there hadn¡¯t been a mistranslation at some point that was screwing him up.

    But the words were just a guide. Anyone can shout and wriggle their fingers, but it takes a mage to manipulate mana. Mar was already sitting cross legged on the floor. He closed his eyes and focused, endless hours of practice had allowed him to fall into a state of meditation instantly and soon he was plucking at strands of mana from his core. His aura was small for now, but once he cast this spell and mana spilled forth from his well to fill it surely he¡¯d have a higher capacity for spells than anyone else in his class! That would show the others. Especially the ones who called him a failure. Mar couldn¡¯t wait to see the look on that Darrik kids face when Mar beat him at sparring practice.

    Mar grabbed at the strands of mana and pulled them from his center. They were thin and filamentous, rather than the rippling chords some of the other students had wielded, but that hardly mattered. Dexterity and control was every bit as important as raw power in magecraft.

    The portion of Mar that was observing this memory from the future gaped in wonder. He¡¯d tried to pull mana from his core many times since this day, but it had never worked for him. The headmaster had told him he was simply unable to pull mana from his center, and that¡¯s why it would be impossible for him to become a mage.

    Young Mar pulled the strands out of his center with ease. He thrust the wriggling strands of energy into the object in front of him. The other students had just used bits of colored glass but this was a artificer-made tool that consisted of a rod of ruby and a power amplifier. Mar fed the little bits of mana into the device while simultaneously opening his real eyes to look at the device. Hoping against all previous failures that this would be the time it would light up for him.

    Nothing happened.

    Why was this so hard for him!? Mar stood up and in a fit of anger smeared his carefully drawn chalk diagram into unrecognizability. He nearly swatted the power amplifier aside, but stopped himself at the last moment. It wasn¡¯t like Mar to give into fits of anger, and the power amplifier had been a loan from Master Warric. Still, he couldn¡¯t suppress his frustration completely. How many times must he fail before the gods would let him have even the slightest taste of success? Yes, there were plenty of people who lived their life without magic, but Mar hadn¡¯t grown up among them. Perhaps if he¡¯d been a cooper or a tradesman¡¯s son he could have shrugged off the inability to make magic and said ¡®oh well¡¯, going on to live a normal and perfectly happy life.

    But that was unacceptable for Mar. He had built his whole identity around the idea of someday becoming a mage. Everyone he knew and respected was a mage, and every day he had been told that magic was valued above all things. He had been raised by mages for the purpose of someday joining their ranks. He simply couldn¡¯t imagine a life without magic. Mar felt his cheeks and noticed that tears had leaked from his eyes without him realizing.

    Mar flipped through the old book he had found the spell in. Most of it was written in languages predating the Remian Empire. It had taken long hours of toil to translate the relevant section, and he had ended up with several pages of useless history. One such page was a detailed account of some long dead deity by the name of Moroth. Odd, since the temples make the gods out to be immortals, but the text before him clearly stated that Moroth was dead. The dead god was a tragic figure who turned the gods against each other, in a vain attempt to claim the title of God of gods. According to the text, the other gods all joined forces to defeat and kill Moroth.

    Oh well. He¡¯d prayed to every living god he could think of. Why not try a dead one? Mar tried to think of an appropriate prayer for a primordial god, but Mar wasn¡¯t even sure what aspect of creation fell under Moroth¡¯s purview. Eventually Mar decided to just make one up.

    ¡°Moroth¡­ I don¡¯t ask for great power. I don¡¯t want to be given anything I don¡¯t have to work for, but if I have even the smallest bit of talent, please help it reveal itself¡­¡±

    Then Mar discarded all of the carefully prepared rituals. All the chants and diagrams. He just reached into himself and grabbed as much mana as his force of will could possibly control.

    He grabbed Master Warric¡¯s power amplifier and poured all of his gathered mana into it. It came out in long thin strands, creating the messiest weave Mar had ever seen. It was also the most complicated Mar had ever seen. Even after Mar had let go of the mana it wriggled and writhed inside the device, slowly setting into an obscure position. The strands of mana never merged, and through the artificer lenses Mar was looking through he saw a mass of mana that looked like a bowl of wet noodles.

    Mar sighed, waiting for the mis-woven spell form to dissipate into the spirit realm, but nothing happened.

    Then it twitched.

    Mar looked at the device again. What had just happened? For a moment there he thought he had seen it move¡­

    Mare stared at the device intently for a handful of breaths. When nothing happened he reached over to grab it.

    That¡¯s when it bit him.You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

    Inside the case, between the ruby rod and the inscribed silver around it a tiny gap had opened up. Inside of it was a row of small but sharp, jagged teeth.

    Mar jerked back his finger in alarm. He looked and saw that a tiny drop of blood welled up out of wound. There was a slight chattering on the ground in front of him, like the sound of something small and metal vibrating against the ground. Mar realized it was the tiny device, jittering ever so slightly in place.

    ¡°You want this?¡± Mar whispered to it while holding up his lightly bleeding finger. Mar squeezed his thumb against his pointer finger until a droplet of blood welled up. He held it over the top of the strange creature and let the blood drip on top of it. The creature scrambled with it¡¯s tiny mouth. A primitive tentacle-like tongue extended from inside of it and licked at the spot on it¡¯s body where the droplet had fallen. Mar let it have a few more drops of blood and smiled as it scrambled to lick them up.

    Somehow, Mar knew that he was responsible for this things existence. He¡¯d heard that mages from long ago were able to use magic to sculpt living things as easily as an earth mage could sculpt a house out of stone, but he hadn¡¯t heard about any living mages being able to manipulate living things in such a way. Sure, the flesh mages were able to manipulate and modify the body for cosmetic changes and healing, but bringing non-living things to life was beyond their abilities. Perhaps Mar was special?

    Mar picked up the tiny creature. It bit into his hand, causing him to drop it, but Mar was not dissuaded. Wrapping his hand with a bit of cloth, both to stop the bleeding and to make a mitten to safely hold the little creature, Mar picked up his tiny creation and ran on to show Master Warric. Mar would need to apologize for destroying his power amplifier anyway, so it made sense that he should be the first master to lay eyes on Mar¡¯s creation.

    It wasn¡¯t hard to find Master Warric. He was perhaps the only other person in the school at this hour, and the light streaming from his workshop, combined with the constant ringing noise of metal being beaten with a hammer.

    Mar rapped on the door. A twist of the latch told him that it was open. The eager young mage pushed the door open practically skipping as he made it to the bench where Master Warric was working. Mar tapped him on the shoulder.

    ¡°Master Warric! I need to show you something!¡± Mar said excitedly.

    Master Warric waved an arm behind him. ¡°Hold your horses Bernard! I¡¯ve seen your designs for a nail that twists into wood a dozen times already! I¡¯ve told you, it¡¯s impractical!¡±

    ¡°No, Master Warric, It¡¯s me, Mar!¡±

    The dwarf finally turned around. ¡°Mar my boy! By Domoulis! Have you grown since I last saw you? I¡¯d swear I had a full head¡¯s height on you this morning.¡±

    Mar smiled at the overused greeting. Master Warric seemed to say that every time he saw him.

    ¡°First, I have to apologize. I think I broke your mana amplifier.¡±

    ¡°Oh, I¡¯m sure it¡¯s nothing major. I can probably fix it right up.¡± Master Warric plucked the small device out of Mar¡¯s cloth covered hand and held it up the light. ¡°Looks like the ruby is intact, which is the most expensive part. The casing here seems to have some unusual ridges. This is some very fine detail work. How did you get a file inside¡ª YOW!¡± The dwarf was stopped mid sentence. His fingers had been probing the artificial creatures tiny mouth and it had just bit down on the dwarf¡¯s appendages. Its tiny jaws weren¡¯t able to pierce the thick callouses on the old dwarfs hands, but it still hurt.

    ¡°By the blue balls of Domoulis! What in the abyss!?¡± Master Warric shook his hand and dropped the device to the floor. After inspecting his finger he looked at the device again and saw the tiny tentacle flick out of it¡¯s mouth.

    ¡°Is that a mimic?¡± Master Warric asked in a hush whisper.

    Mar had heard of those before. They were creatures that liked to look like ordinary objects, but they were really monsters. They lured in unsuspecting prey and then attacked when their guard was down.

    ¡°There¡¯s no way one could have gotten into the city. The Realmstone would never allow it.¡± The dwarf muttered allowed.

    ¡°No Master Warric, I made this!¡± Mar announced proudly.

    The old artificer gaped at him. ¡°You made this?¡±

    Mar nodded, a grin on his face.

    The dwarf picked up a pair of tongs from near the forge and used them to pluck the small creature off the ground. Then he dropped it inside a tall glass beaker. It tried to scramble for the edges, but having no legs meant it¡¯s locomotion abilities were poor. The gray-bearded dwarf held it up to his face so he could examine it without getting bitten. After a minute of prodding it he set the beaker down.

    Then Master Warric rummaged through an old box and pulled out a power amplifier identical to the one he had given Mar. ¡°Show me how you made it.¡±

    Mar took the device and set it on the ground in front of him. He thought back to exactly what he had done before. He¡¯d taken a big clump of his mana and pushed it into the device.

    Mar sat down and repeated the steps exactly as he remembered them. It wasn¡¯t too hard, considering how simple the manipulation had been. All he had really done was take mana and pour it into the power amplifier.

    Mar poured the mana out of himself and it all collected inside the ruby as a tangled knot of mana. It held together for a second but then fell apart.

    Master Warric, who had been watching the process with rapt attention, let out a sigh of relief. Mar mistook it for disappointment.

    ¡°Let me try again!¡± Mar said. And before Master Warric replied Mar was already at it. He pulled an even bigger bundle of mana from his center and jammed it into thee ruby. It held together, but nothing seemed to be happening.

    After a long moment, there was a sputtering gasp of life. This time the small creature had two little tentacles, which it flailed around violently for several moments before going still again.

    ¡°By the gods! Spirit magic.¡± Domoulis whispered. ¡°Come with me Mar, I have to inform the headmaster. You¡¯re going to need special tutoring.¡±

    Mar was jerked out the the vision by a loud cracking sound. A tiny gap had appeared in his magical construct. What was that memory? All he remembered from that day was failing to achieve any results and giving up in a fit of disgust. Actually, now that he thought about it, he couldn¡¯t remember exactly at what point he gave up at. All he really remembered was when the headmaster came to talk with him. Next thing he knew he was in the library being taught how to care for the books.

    <You cannot hide within that phylactery forever.> Boomed the gray stone¡¯s voice from beyond the confines of the cold shell.

    Mar realized that unlike before, he could peer through the tiny crack in the wall and see the rest of the spirit world outside of his protective shell. The mages were gone, likely that evil spirits work. It did look quite intimidating at the moment. A huge writhing mass of black tentacles, most of which were surrounding him. The crack around Mar was growing larger. This was bad.

    <I¡¯ve reconsidered your offer!> Mar shouted telepathically. The calming effect this state had on his emotions allowed him to consider the situation he was in, and Mar realized bargaining might be his only option. A mocking chuckle from the demon was his only reply.

    Mar tried to observe his surroundings once more through the crack in the sphere. That¡¯s when he noticed that the stone¡¯s manifestation seemed slightly smaller than the last time he looked. The tentacles had shrunk slightly in number. Examining them closely, Mar realized that he could see tiny flecks of mana streaming off of them.

    <You¡¯re leaking mana.> Mar realized aloud.

    The malevolent spirit paused briefly for a moment. <That problem will be rectified soon. I am already in the process of devouring the mana from those foolish mages in the physical realm, but they are little more than appetizers to sustain me for the moment. You on the other hand will be a continuous fountain of abundance.>

    <From what I gather, only I have a mana regeneration rate high enough to sustain you continuously. You need me. Why not work with me, as you offered before?>

    <I already have complete control of your physical body. Once I peirce these feeble defenses your aura will serve me as well. There is no further reason for me to seduce you with promises of wealth and power.>

    <Not good enough, fleshling. What proof have I that you will not simply discard me once you have sufficient control?>

    <Your current death-grip on my body and spirit is not enough? Months of freely supplied mana?> Mar hissed in reply.

    <There is something I need. Something the other told me. The dungeon core in the center of this city. It is large and powerful. Very old.>

    <Yes, the Realmstone has been in the city since the founding. It¡¯s presence is what allows for so much magic in Orlem.> Mar replied.

    <And it is unbonded now? Free of it¡¯s usual protections for the sake of this ¡®Trial¡¯?>

    Mar didn¡¯t like where this was going. <Yes, this year¡¯s first mage will also become the Keeper of the Realm.>

    <The other believes that it can cannibalize portions of this dungeon core to repair some of the damage we suffer from.>

    This all seemed vaguely familiar to Mar. Thinking back, hadn¡¯t he dreamed something similar? He considered the offer for a moment, but Mar realized he didn¡¯t have much of a choice.

    <What guarantee do I have that I¡¯ll get my body back once I put you and the Realmstone together?>

    <I will be forced to sever my external connections in order for the other to begin repairs. I will take your physical body to the location, carrying me. The two of use will simultaneously make the journey in the spirit realm. Once we are there I will need to relinquish complete control over both this manifestation and your physical body in order to subjugate the Realmstone. You¡¯ll have your body back then. In exchange for returning control of your fleshy husk, you must take us with you when you leave the city.>

    <This sounds like a dangerous plan.> Mar commented. It sounded like stupidity to Mar. The stone might be able to crush a few students with ease, but this wasn¡¯t the first time a warlock had come to Orlem. The inquisitors always got them, eventually.

    <Everyone who is watching fully expects a flood humans running towards the Realmstone. You can simply conceal yourself among them. Given access to your mana I have spells that would reduce the probability of detection¡ª>.

    <No. I know what you can do with even a little mana.> Mar snapped.

    <Need I remind you it is your body at stake?> The stone prodded. <And besides that, I suspect you will need a little spellcraft as well if you want to make it to the Realmstone.>

    <I will consider it. But I¡¯ll want full details on every spell you cast.>

    <Done. Do we have a deal?>

    <As if I really have a choice.> Mar remarked dryly.

    <No, you don¡¯t. But you have a surprisingly keen mind, fleshling. I have used many wizards, sorcerers, and mages in the past, and even those that were able to resist my temptatious offers were bent to my will in time. You have shown remarkable resistance in this regard. Are you sure you¡¯re not a demon?>

    Mar laughed. <I have no illusions of being able to outwit you, evil spirit. Though I am clever enough to realize that even your compliments are laced with poison. You seek to stroke my ego until I think I can control you, and that¡¯s when you¡¯ll have me under your thumb.>

    Mar received the distinct impression of a grin through the telepathic link.

    <Still, my compliment stands.>

    There was a few moments of silence.

    <You need a name.> Mar said.

    <Those old stories about being able to control a demon with it¡¯s true name are rubbish you know.>

    <I can¡¯t keep simply calling you ¡®gray stone¡¯... How does Asmodan sound?>

    <Like a pretentious human¡¯s foolish attempt at naming a demon. I need no label.>

    <Fine then, how does ¡®djinn¡¯ sound? Because you¡¯re a talking voice in a rock? Almost like a talking spirit in a lamp?>

    <I have been known as a djinn to some. Djinn are demons or spirits inside an object, like me.>

    <Jinn it is!> Mar prodded. Mar thought he sensed a distasteful sneer.

    <Be happy.> Mar continued. <Your other option was Flint, because you¡¯re a gray rock.>

 Interlude

    In the physical realm, most of Orlem was engrossed in watching the trials through the various scrying portals the mages had put up around the city. Even those who weren¡¯t watching the games via scrying were able to observe as their clotheslines rustled unnaturally and random pieces of buildings and ground grew unusually warm. This was a city-wide event, and generally considered a day for celebration. Even though the competition was occurring in the spirit realm, there was so much mana being thrown around that the physical realm was ever-so-slightly influenced. The tiny bit of mana that leaked over from the spirit realm was enough to cause odd vibrations, the rattling of pans, condensation in odd places, sudden warm spots, and many more stranger effects.

    Around the city most work had ground to a halt, except for those entrepreneurial spirits who were taking the festivities as an opportunity to sell liquor or food. Officially merchants were supposed to either own a storefront or rent a booth in order to participate in such festivities, but the city guard was hardly going to chase down every person lugging around a bag to check for untaxed booze.

    In some less mage-friendly regions of the city, people were actively looking for unusual happenings. The rustling of a stack of copper bowls, blades of grass bending under no apparent force. Some swung frying pans around, hoping even the tiniest portion of the blow would transfer over to the spirit realm. It¡¯s the closest they¡¯d ever come to being able to smack one of those pretentious mages.

    Back at Orlem in the administration buildings all the masters and some of the most powerful mages in Orlem were present to observe and oversee the games. They had kept the scrying portals firmly trained on the most promising candidates. There were three scrying portals dedicated to Verona¡¯s team.

    ¡°Sir, it seems one of Volfsdown¡¯s parties was just completely eliminated!¡± one of the junior mages announced in surprise.

    ¡°Really now? I¡¯d have expected a better showing from the best Volfsdown.¡± A white bearded master commented.

    ¡°Oh please.¡± Headmaster Marik commented with a wave of his hands. ¡°Volfsdown mass produces mages via route memorization. They learn rituals to make spell templates for invocation magic and that¡¯s it. They barely know how to weave spells by hand!¡±

    ¡°Yes, Volfsdown¡¯s teaching practices leave something to be desired, but you can¡¯t deny they¡¯ve been effective pawns in our ongoing fight against the Empire.¡± The white bearded mage replied.

    ¡°Switch a portal to their last location. I want to see the group that took them down. I bet it was my son¡¯s.¡± Lord Verandon said excitedly. ¡°By the way, where is Ivarn?¡± or his nephew for that matter? Young Darrik should be with that elf-blooded girl. The Verandon family was one of the big three families in Orlem, on par with the Pyrasterns. As such, lord Verandon was one of the few people who could get away with calling lord Pyrastern by his first name.

    ¡°Haven¡¯t seen either of them.¡± Said white-beard. ¡°Though my detectors picked up some noise coming from his estate, magically speaking. Perhaps they had some sort of issue with their¡­ livestock?¡± The mage coughed out the last word awkwardly. Everyone knew where mana crystals came from, and they were very much necessary for anything magical that wasn¡¯t being directly operated by a mage. That didn¡¯t mean mages had to like talking about them.

    ¡°Oh Hadrian.¡± Lord Verandon clapped the mage on the back. ¡°Don¡¯t get my hopes up. You know how envious I am that oh-so profitable enterprise Ivern has built a monopoly on. I¡¯ve waited two hundred years to find a crack in the walls so I can finally bring that particular business toppling to the ground.¡±

    Lord Verandon was a pot-bellied man. He wore an oversized hat and clothes that hadn¡¯t been in style in decades. He could often be found holding a pipe that he never lit. Apparently pipes had been fashionable some three hundred years ago, during his rise to power. Despite the man¡¯s foppish appearance and jolly demeanor he was one of the most powerful men in Orlem, and the world. He was also utterly ruthless in maintaining his position. Pretending to be much dumber than he actually was had played a large role in his rise to his current status, and though everyone was aware of the act by now he never quite managed to completely step out of the role. Strangers to Orlem¡¯s circles of power found him non threatening and easy to talk to, but those in the know shivered at his attention. More than one king wore their crown only so long as Lord Verandon willed it.

    ¡°Here¡¯s where the Volfsdown group was last spotted. Seems they were killed quite close to where they first transported to.¡± A junior mage said while gesturing at the scrying portal he was manipulating. He was a journeyman in Orlem, which was a fairly rare position in Orlem these days. Most mages went straight to the family business or the military.

    ¡°Well don¡¯t just sit there! Pull back so we can get a grasp of the area! Find out which group did the deed!¡± The headmaster demanded.

    The journeyman mage obliged. ¡°I¡¯m not seeing anything¡­ Wait. There!¡±

    They zoomed in on a blurry figure. It was inky black and vaguely human shaped, but that¡¯s all they could make out.

    ¡°Bring the damn scrying into focus!¡± Lord Verandon demanded.

    ¡°It is in focus.¡± The journeyman frowned. ¡°But I just can¡¯t seem to get a clear look at this competitor.¡±

    ¡°Move aside.¡± The headmaster pushed the mage out of his while muttering something about the incompetence of modern young mages. He grasped the the spell weave with chords of his own mana to keep the spell from falling apart and allow him to manipulate it.

    ¡°I can¡¯t seem to get it to focus either. This is most unusual.¡± The headmaster stated in genuine surprise. He brought the scrying spell around to several other competitors, and the spell rendered their images quite clearly.

    Master Hadrian leaned in and squinted. ¡°It¡¯s a obfuscation spell, if I¡¯m not mistaken.¡±

    Lord Verandon leaned in towards the reflective pool bearing the image. ¡°Yes. I do believe you are right, runemaster. Quite a strong one I might add.¡±

    ¡°I could no doubt pierce it if I threw my full might into the scrying, but I wouldn¡¯t want to interfere with the trials by sabotaging a competitor.¡±

    ¡°Interfering in the trials? Sabotage a competitor? Why, never in my wildest dreams have I heard of you doing that?¡± Lord Verandon scoffed. Several people laughed at the headmaster''s expense.

    The headmaster frowned. ¡°This and that are completely different. Laugh if you want gentlemen, but it¡¯s the future of our city at stake. Imagine what chaos would ensue if Volfsdown managed to fill even a handful of our senator¡¯s positions? Or any of the other city states for that matter? It would be pandemonium! And there¡¯s even more at stake this year with the Realmstone as the prize. I do what I have to for the sake of our country, and the world.¡±

    ¡°Oh, save your high and mighty talk Marik. We all know you just hate the idea of falling off the political landscape, and being able to nudge the trials in for or against individual candidates is your biggest piece in play. But do look up the mark on this mystery student and tell us where he or she is from.¡±

    ¡°Excellent idea Lord Verandon. You there!¡± The headmaster pointed at the journeyman who was standing off to the side of the scrying portal and looking out of place now that the headmaster was sitting in his seat. ¡°Fetch the records and look up this competitors identification pattern. Bring the full file on them.¡±

    ¡°Yes sir. Right away.¡± The junior mage hurried off to peruse the records. He nearly ran head first into Lord Ivern Pyraster, who had just opened the door. The junior mage apologized meekly and scurried off.

    ¡°Ivern! Glad to see you¡¯ve made it. We haven¡¯t seen hide or hair of your nephew in the scryings. Decide to opt him out did you?¡± Lord Verandon taunted.

    ¡°No, I held him up for a few minutes, but he¡¯s in there now. Had to have a talk with him.¡± Lord Pyrastern said cryptically.

    ¡°Ha! If I were you I¡¯d lock the boy in the darkest room you¡¯ve got under your estate and throw away the key! He¡¯s clearly a menace, and an idiot to boot. One of these days he¡¯ll do irreparable damage to your family''s reputation.¡± Lord Verandon commented.

    Lord Pyrastern let out a deep grumble and glared and Lord Veradon. Several of the mages in the room unconsciously backed off, their instincts sensing the growing tension. Both of these men were powerful mages with several centuries of experience under their belts. A fight between the two of them would turn a good portion of the school to dust and debris.

    Headmaster Marik stepped in to defuse the situation. ¡°Cousin! It is always a pleasure to see you. You never stop by the school anymore!¡± The headmaster stepped between the two family heads and embraced Lord Pyrastern.

    ¡°The adventuring guilds in Gavica had started exporting their second-rate mana crystals east. I¡¯ve had to dissuade them from stepping into our markets.¡±

    ¡°Ah, is that what the commotion the other day was about?¡± one of the other mages asked.

    ¡°No. That was something else. Darrik pulled a stupid stunt and I had to clean up the consequences.¡±

    ¡°Aha! As I was saying?¡± Lord Verandon announced with a smirk, tailored by years of experience to imbue just the right about of irritation in his old rival. Lord Pyrastern glared at him again, even though he knew Lord Verandon wheedled him to get just that sort of reaction.

    ¡°It would seem our mystery student has encountered the spirit constructs.¡± The headmaster interrupted the bickering once again before it got out of hand.

    ¡°Wonderful! I do love young talent, and if this mage¡¯s combat spells are half as good as his obfuscation spells I will be duly impressed!¡± Lord Verandon remarked, easily ignoring Lord Pyrasterns glare.This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t get your hopes up. Odds are this mage is a specialist to produce an anti-scrying ward of that caliber. Likely a mono-elemental air mage.¡±

    On one of the bigger scrying portals, a spirit construct stood threateningly before a narrow passage. It loomed above the manifestations of the mage students, which seemed tiny by comparison.

    These spirit constructs had been designed long ago by the mages of Orlem to guard the area around the city from the spirit realm, to ensure that no enemy mages could travel into the city in spirit form as a spy, and also to eliminate any independent entities living in the spirit realm that might find their way to Orlem. While no longer cutting-edge spellcraft, they were still formidable weapons and students weren¡¯t expected to be able to defeat them. To reach the next stage in the tournament, competitors merely needed to get past them. Even now the mages circling the three constructs were trying to draw attention away from their comrades, who had equipped crude cloaking spells in an effort to pass between the guardian, though without success.

    There were two separate groups trying to get past the constructs, both with their own strategies. An air mage on the left blasted the constructs with a burst of air magic that pushed it forwards, while a fire mage from the other team of mages blasted the construct with a fireball, sending it sprawling back.

    The techniques of the two separate teams were conflicting with one another, and instead of drawing the constructs attention they only succeeded in doing an infinitesimal amount of damage that was repaired in moments.

    In frustration, the fire mage turned to the air mage and unleashed a second fireball right in the other mages face. The air mages manifestation dissolved as the Realmstone forced his consciousness back into the physical world.

    This unexpected act of aggression shocked both teams, and soon a conflict began between the two groups right in front of the construct. The mages abandoned their attempt to make it past the guardian and turned on each other, deciding that dispatching competitors would secure more points than the effort to get closer to the Realmstone.

    Suddenly the main scrying screen went blurry.

    ¡°It seems our mystery student has entered the stage!¡± Lord Verandon clapped his hands in excitement.

    Many of the other mages in the room turned towards the large scrying portraying the battle between mage groups. The mysterious student with the cloaking spell didn¡¯t slow his pace at all, despite the battle ensuing around him and spirit construct to the front.

    The headmaster harrumphed. ¡°This student is placing quite a bit of faith in his obfuscation barrier. It is powerful, but I if one of the other mages attracts even a glancing blow in his direction¡­ See! Watch!¡±

    Indeed, just as the cloaked figure was passing between the legs of a giant spider shaped construct one of the mages dodged a blast of magic, causing the spider-like spirit construct to rear up on it¡¯s hind legs. The mage himself stepped too close to the cloaked mage and seemed shocked when he bumped into the cloaked figure. That confirmed the general opinion around the room that this mage was equipped with concealment spells beyond those meant to defend against scrying.

    The mage who bumped into the figure stumbled and began to turn gray, as if the life had been sucked out of him. His manifestation in the spirit realm withered and died and his consciousness was sucked back into the physical realm.

    Meanwhile, the spirit constructs attention had been drawn to the figure whose location had previously been cloaked by it¡¯s obfuscation spell. The spirit-spider slammed a huge and deadly leg right towards the his head head. The mages in the room, all expected the figure to disappear in a burst of wild mana, but instead of the mages¡¯ manifestation being destroyed, the spider construct¡¯s limb disappeared, and the figure shrugged off the blow and continued moving as if nothing had happened.

    ¡°Was that¡­ A mana absorption field? Followed by a disruption field?¡± exclaimed one mage.

    ¡°Remarkable, I didn¡¯t learn that until I was nearly forty! I must know who this mage is.¡± Lord Verandon remarked in surprise. ¡°He or she seems to be completely alone. Either their team was completely wiped out or they didn¡¯t have one to begin with.¡±

    ¡°If our mystery mage were from Orlem surely we would have heard of such talent by now.¡± Remarked lady Sarja, head of a prominent, although lesser, family.

    ¡°I agree. That means we have an unusually talented individual without connections to other mages representing another city state. This is most unusual. Didn¡¯t we set up the ward program to ensure that any great talent coming from new blood would be raised here, in Orlem?¡±

    Headmaster Marik sighed. ¡°If the senate hadn¡¯t reduced my funds for such things perhaps we would be able to do so. The fact remains, we have a mage who is rapidly approaching the Realmstone. While I¡¯d like to wait for the records for a confirmation, this mage is far too skilled to have gone unnoticed were he raised in Orlem. Our divinations didn¡¯t account for another major player on the board. It seems this competitor will have to be removed from the trials one way or another.¡±

    The junior mage walked back into the control room. ¡°Sir, there was some trouble with the records.¡±

    ¡°Just give me the name and city of origin. That¡¯s all that really matters.¡± The headmaster demanded.

    ¡°Well¡­ we don¡¯t have either of those.¡± The journeyman said cautiously.

    ¡°What do you mean you don¡¯t have one?¡± Lady Saraja asked curiously. ¡°They wouldn¡¯t be in the trial if they didn¡¯t have a mark, and every mark has a unique pattern.¡±

    ¡°Could a student have made the mark themselves? I know you allow the students to undo the mark using their own magic.¡± Master Hadrian asked. He had grown up outside of Orlem, so he felt rather out of place with all this xenophobic talk about foreign mages.

    ¡°Not possible.¡± The headmaster replied curtly. ¡°While the spellweave for the mark comes apart easily enough, it is quite difficult to weave. While I¡¯m sure there are students who could manage it, they wouldn¡¯t know the specifics of the spell-diagrams we use. They might be able to craft a spell that¡¯s almost identical, but the Realmstone would instantly spot a fake. Otherwise we could have imperial spies sneaking into Orlem and winning senatorial positions!¡±

    ¡°Or the Realmstone itself.¡± Lord Pyrastern mumbled pensively.

    The comment hung in the air for several moments as everyone present shivered at the thought. If the Realmstone was compromised, Orlem¡¯s previously impenetrable defenses would come crashing to the ground. And if Orlem fell it might very well take everything they¡¯d built for themselves with it.

    Lord Verandon coughed. ¡°This student does seem unusually skilled¡­¡± The pot-bellied mage let his comment linger, instilling a bit of doubt in anyone listening. Of all those present, only lord Pyrastern had known the man long enough to recognize the gleam in Lord Verandon¡¯s eyes. If there was one thing lord Verandon would call his specialty, it would be spotting opportunities.

    The headmaster sat down in his chair. ¡°Right then. I¡¯m afraid this competitor has to go. Time to send in the spare constructs. I¡¯ll have to override the detection blinders as well.¡±

    The headmaster touched a mana stone set into the controls before him and frowned in concentration.

    ¡°There. That will take care of this foreign welp.¡±

    It was not long before a half dozen constructs not unlike the giant spider started congregating ahead of the path the mysterious mage was traveling. It might seem improbable for so many of the constructs that were previously randomly wandering the cityscape to group together like that, but there was historical precedence during other trials, so nobody would question it too harshly.

    The obscured figure did not pause or turn, which meant no maneuvering was necessary on the headmaster''s part.

    ¡°And now we say goodbye.¡± The headmaster stated while waving his hand at the screen that now held both the image of the obscured mage and the constructs.

    The mages gazed at the scene expectantly. The mysterious mage simply kept moving and the constructs completely ignored him.

    ¡°What are you waiting for? Order the constructs to attack him!¡± Lord Verandon prompted.

    The headmaster glanced back up at the scrying portal. ¡°I just did¡­¡± the headmaster said, a hint of uncertainty in his voice.

    The headmaster repeated his earlier gesture. Once again nothing happened.

    ¡°Well?¡± Lady Saraja demanded.

    ¡°It¡¯s¡­ not working¡­¡± the headmaster whispered with a look of confusion on his face. ¡°But that¡¯s impossible. The constructs are controlled directly through the Realmstone¡­¡±

    ¡°The constructs aren¡¯t responding?¡± Master Hadrian stated with surprise. He¡¯d played a hand in their design and had poured countless hours into ensuring that they had a stable connection.

    ¡°Something has overridden my signal.¡±

    ¡°This is looking more suspicious by the moment.¡± Commented lady Saraja. ¡°While I have been known to scoff at those of us who see Imperial plots left and right, I think it would be better to be safe than sorry in this case.¡±

    ¡°I agree. This competitor needs to be stopped immediately.¡±

    ¡°Start distorting the space between him and the Realmstone!¡± Lord Verandon demanded.

    ¡°I can¡¯t!¡± the headmaster replied, matching the lord''s anxious tone. ¡°You can¡¯t manipulate territory this close to a dungeon core without the dungeon¡¯s say-so. If we had a Keeper we could, but without one we can only indirectly influence the dungeon.¡±

    ¡°An attack from the spirit realm against the Realmstone could leave it disabled for weeks! That¡¯s more than enough time for the Empire to land an army and destroy our standing with the League!¡±

    There was a moment of growing tension in the air that was only broken by a sudden and harsh rapping on the door.

    Without waiting for permission to open the door, the journeyman entered the room. ¡°Masters and senators! I¡¯m here with a guard from the Royal Palace who has a report for you.¡±

    ¡°Can¡¯t you see we¡¯re in the middle of something here?¡± The headmaster waved at the guardsman to leave.

    Without a monarch, the Royal Guard of Orlem only existed as a token force meant to protect state buildings. They had no real power or assets. As such, they were rarely more than a pawn on the political playing board.

    ¡°But sir, there¡¯s been an attack on the palace!¡± the guardsman shouted,completely discarding proper protocol.

    ¡°An attack you say? But why the Royal Palace? The only thing there is the Realmstone¡­ Oh dear gods.¡± Lady Saraja whispered. ¡°This isn¡¯t just an attack from the spirit realm.¡±

    ¡°Tell us what happened!¡± Lord Verandon demanded of the guardsman.

    ¡°A mage of tremendous power attacked and stormed the building. We were caught completely off guard. Never got a look at their face. In fact, I don¡¯t think anyone saw anything except for a billowing shadow of death. It was a terrifying sight. The men who got too close just¡­ disappeared.¡± The guard shivered.

    Lord Verandon nodded along. ¡°I¡¯ll send in my people. They will secure the Royal palace and the Realmstone. Then we will find the culprit and we will¡ª¡±

    ¡°No, lord Verandon. This is a problem for all of Orlem, not just the Verandon family. Imagine the chaos that would ensue if the other senators knew the Realmstone was under the direct guard of your personal men during the trials? There would be collective outrage!¡± Lord Pyrastern replied.

    Lord Verandon frowned. ¡°This is no time to let politics bind our hands. We should take the most likely route to success.¡±

    ¡°Besides that, I think you would find your people outmatched. Mine certainly were. That commotion you were so curious about the other day? It was an attack on my home by nothing less than a warlock.¡±

    Lord Verandon¡¯s eyebrows rose. ¡°A warlock you say? That is interesting indeed. But I have people trained to handle such things. I¡¯m sure it will be no issue.¡±

    ¡°We should send in the Inquisitors.¡± Lady Saraja suggested. ¡°They work for all of Orlem, rather than one of the great houses. And they¡¯re all mages. Not a mundane amongst them to weigh them down.¡±

    Lord Verandon frowned, his latest scheme having been nipped in the bud. He saw no way to force the issue though, so it would be best for him to agree with the logical choice. He¡¯d hoped to let the panic build a bit more, but it seems everything was starting to calm down already. It wasn¡¯t a total loss though, and a new opportunity had just presented itself.

    ¡°You¡¯re right. I concede to your superior wisdom, lady Saraja.¡± Lord Verandon tilted his head in her direction. ¡°Summon the inquisitors, let them deal with this mess.¡±

    Inwardly he rubbed his hands in glee. There were so many things he could do with a warlock at his disposal.

 The Wrath of Mages 1

    As they moved the malevolent spirit directed its attention away from Mar and he was gradually able to become more aware of what was happening around him.

    The trial was absolute chaos. Everywhere bolts of lightning and balls of fire flew freely through the aether of the spirit realm. So much magic was being used that the air had grown hazy with wild mana. Mar¡¯s first instinct would have been to avoid any and all battling mages, but Jinn seemed to be directing the both of them straight through with no care or heed for their surroundings.

    <It would be safer to avoid the fighting.> Mar projected.

    <I need more raw mana than you are willing to give me. Let these children fire their crude spellcraft at me. It will only empower me further.>

    Taking apart spells to recover the mana inside was a very high-level technique. Mar knew only a few masters who could do so with any efficiency. But without a mana producing aura of its own, the stone likely had much greater need of the ability than any human mage would.

    The demon took the two of them at a rapid pace towards the thickest portion of the fighting.

    Jinn¡¯s malevolent magic had been drawn closer to their shared body, forming something that approximated a billowing black cloak. The light cast down on them was twisted and diminished as it passed through the many disruption fields layered on him. To the other mages, they looked like a ghost. A shadow come to life. Most wouldn¡¯t even notice them unless they were actively looking. Jinn¡¯s work. The stone wanted to produce more elaborate spells, but Mar was cautious to allow it only the mana it needed as part of their bargain. Mar had hoped that with careful rationing he would be able to ensure that the stone had nothing left if it wanted to renege on its promise to return Mar¡¯s body, but if it was able to cultivate large amounts of mana from other sources, that could be a problem.

    It wasn¡¯t long before they came upon the first challenge. A spell construct that took the form of a giant spider, two separate teams of competitors seemed to have already engaged it in combat, though their strategies were conflicting with one another. One of the mages trying to distract the construct and bumped into Mar and Jinn. The mage turned around in surprise, having not noticed them before because of Jinn¡¯s cloaking spell. Then something strange happened. One of Jinn¡¯s inky black tendrils reached out and grabbed at the other mage and burrowed deep into the flesh of his manifestation. The black tendril seemed to swell as the other mage¡¯s manifestation seemed to turn ashen and gray, the vitality from it rapidly draining. After a few moments, the mage disappeared in a puff of wild mana.

    While the offender was gone, his actions had drawn the attentions of the spider-construct, which was now looming over them. Mar silently braced himself for impact, but Jinn threw up several inky black tendrils and interwove them to form a barrier. There was a jolt when the constructs leg impacted, but then it was gone. When Jinn removed its tendrils, Mar noticed that the spider-construct was struggling to regain its balance, having lost one of its legs. The limb had vanished without a whisper as it¡¯s mana was dissolved and devoured by Jinn. The demon made no comment, but Mar could tell that it was pleased.

    Soon other mages noticed the lone stranger in their midst and began to turn away from their individual fights onto what they presumed should be an easy point. A half dozen attack spells across the elemental spectra hit Jinn¡¯s disruption barriers. The first and second tier magic was no match for Jinn¡¯s spellweavings. The mana fell apart easily, joining Jinn¡¯s artificial aura that wrapped around the two of them. It was inhumanly large now, and several mages who had their mage sight activated gasped at the sight of it. There were only one or two mages of this Trial class who could boast such a high innate capacity for mana.

    A fire and air mage stepped in to block Mar¡¯s path. Mar paid them no mind and Jinn engulfed them with his aura, sucking them dry of magic in seconds.

    A figure with a sword moved in close. That was unusual for the trials. He must have been a ki user to move as fast as he did. Technically the trial was for mages only, but sometimes some of the entrants from other cities arrived with skills beyond just magic.

    Mar was nervous for a second as the sword passed harmlessly through Jinn¡¯s disruption field, but the moment the blade hit the fluttering edges of Mar¡¯s cloak it came to a dead stop, as if it had just hit the side of a mountain.

    The boy holding the sword looked up into the dark shadows shrouding Mar¡¯s eyes with shock on his face. Jinn raised their hand and backhanded him across the face.

    The sword wielder flew through the air, crumpling into the ground off in the distance.

    Another mage moved in towards Mar, but one of his comrades gripped him by the shoulder and yanked him back. The mages in front of Mar quickly cleared out of the way, and Jinn moved through them.

    <I need more mana.> Jinn announced when they were a short distance away.

    <I think you absorbed enough back there.>

    <We are being observed via scrying portal. Though my current spells are sufficient to obfuscate us, they are not able to redirect attention entirely.>

    <Not happening, demon. At this point, my mana is my only bargaining chip, and you¡¯re only getting as much of it as you need, nothing more.>

    Suddenly three huge shapes appeared on the horizon. Three more constructs just like the one they had previously faced.

    <Can you beat three of those things?> Mar whispered.

    Jinn returned the closest mental approximation of a snort. <A few seconds ago they might have been a problem. No longer.>

    Jinn kept them moving forward, straight at the three looming constructs.

    For the second time in as many minutes Mar prepared to be squished flat, but nothing happened. The constructs remained locked in place.

    <Whatever it was you were going to do, do it now Jinn.>

    <If I simply reverse the connection back through the dungeon core I can subvert their control functions... Done.>

    Mar could feel a light flare in the magic around him. Glowing tendrils of power wormed their way from Mar¡¯s hand to the inside of the golem. For a moment, thousands of mana veins were visible. That was the spell matrix, the elaborate enchantment that allowed the constructs to move and function. At first, they were brownish green, some hidden stream of energy flowed through them, both from Mar and from somewhere deep inside them, turning them a deep and dark red color.

    A few moments latter it was done. All three of the constructs stood stock still. stood back up and gave Mar a salute. It stepped aside and allowed Mar to pass unhindered.

    <Whoever made those heaps of trash went about it entirely the wrong way. A little spirit magic and they would have achieved far better results for far less effort.> The demon scoffed.

    Mar looked back to see the constructs take up their original positions, blocking off the otherwise open path.

    <How did you manage that?> Mar asked in wonder.

    <I have taken our physical vessels to the Realmstone itself. Now we need only reach it in the spirit realm.>This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

    After subverting the constructs, they came to a fork where three paths diverged.

    <At the end of each of these is one of the three keys. We¡¯re going to have to go down each of them and find it if we want to be able to open the door at the end.>

    <I have seen enough of your magic to known that I am a match for any enchantment you fleshling mages might have thrown together. Standards really have fallen while I¡¯ve slept. We need no keys. But I do require another infusion of mana to keep my spells operating.>

    <And you¡¯ll have it. In exchange, you will relinquish control over this bodies left arm to me.>

    <I have need of this manifestation at the moment, human.>

    <Oh please, you¡¯ve only used those black tentacles as of yet. If you want mana from me you must begin returning control.>

    There was a moment of silence before Jinn responded. <Very well. We made a bargain after all.>

    Mar felt a tingling sensation as a region of his mind that had been quiet flooded back to life.

    Mar mentally smiled as he squeezed the left fist of the spiritual manifestation and received the sensation in return.

    <Very well, continue straight if you think you¡¯re able to break through a master-level barrier enchantment. We can always wait there in ambush for another group to arrive with the keys.>

    They had initially fallen behind at the beginning because of their ordeal with Chetz, but they were rapidly approaching the people in the lead.

    Before them lay a gorge, at the bottom of which appeared to be an oily black tar that was burning quite hot. An ice mage was trying to create a path across by making bridges of ice but they were melting as fast as he could form them.

    They came to the edge of the precipice. Below him was open air and the brightly burning oil.

    Jinn didn¡¯t stop though. They continued moving and Mar looked down, noticing empty air beneath them.

    Mar stuck his foot over the edge. Testing his weight on it, he felt an invisible barrier. Trusting that Jinn had a spell in place, Mar continued walking. The nearby mages looked on in shock as Mar strode effortlessly across the open air.

    With Jinn¡¯s magic, Mar effortlessly avoided every obstacle in his path. Shortly thereafter they came to the door of the palace.

    <The keys would insert right into the door there, if we had them.>

    <We don¡¯t need them. This enchantment might prove an obstacle for you fleshlings, but not for me.>

    Jinn pressed their right arm against the door and began channeling mana.

    Mar spotted movement at the corner of his vision. Suddenly there was a thunderous crack across the back of his head. It surely would have turned his manifestation¡¯s head into paste if not for the shielding spell Jinn still had active.

    <Damn. We didn¡¯t expect anyone to get here so soon.> Said a voice from behind Mar. <Few more minutes and we could have had a real deathtrap set up.>

    Mar turned around and emerging from their hiding places were a dozen mages, all in black robes with war wands at the ready. Mar met their gazes evenly from the shadows of his cloak.

    <I-I don¡¯t know about this guys. He looks pretty tough.> stuttered a nervous voice.

    <Bah! A fancy cloak doesn¡¯t make you tough. There are twelve of us and one of him. Blast him!>

    <Human mages may be less skilled nowadays, but it seems they are just as annoying.> Jinn commented.

    The twelve black-robed attacker¡¯s spells were stopped dead in their tracks in a matter of seconds.

    Mar didn¡¯t even have to twitch his hand. With a blast of energy Jinn threw all his attackers into the dirt. Mar winced slightly as he heard a cracking sound at the impact.

    <Enough delays. We must hurry. I will need another dose of mana to finish breaking the enchantment.>

    <I¡¯ll take my right arm back then.>

    Jinn made a sound of displeasure, but Mar felt the tingling sensation begin again. Feeling returned in his right arm. Mar opened his well and released a jolt of mana.

    The two of them turned back to the door so Jinn could work. Mar looked up staring at archway above the doors rounded top. A line of light sprouted in a line down the doors center, growing brighter by the second. Runic patterns lit up all across the doors length as they wared with Jinn''s intrusive magic. The brightness of the glowing sigils built as the enchantmants were bled of their mana. Suddenly there was a violent erruption of power and the doors burst asunder splintering like wood rather than the stone it more clostly resembled.

    The representation of the royal palace here in the spirit realm took the form of an inverted tower. A long spiraling staircase lead downward, deep into the earth. It likely would have taken many minutes to descend, but Jinn skipped the stairs and jumped down, using magic to cushion their fall. At the bottom, they came to a simple but well-crafted door.

    Since Mar was in control of both hands he reached out for the handle and opened the door. there was a sharp clicking sound and Mar found it slid open with ease.

    Inside was the most beautiful and intricate display of enchantment Mar had ever seen. Arcane runes covered the floor, walls, and ceiling. They each tiny, but interwoven in complex and ever-shifting patterns. Mar could have stayed here for weeks just copying the runic patters and not even finish transcribing a fraction of what was there.

    In the center of the vast array of runes, sat an ancient and powerful pulsing heart of ruby. It was twice as big as Mar¡¯s head and infinity more valuable. This was the Realmstone. It provided and controlled the vast macroscopic magical workings that held the realm together, everything from roads, to walls, lights, the floating paths, and the leagues defenses were all carefully controlled by the Realmstone. To the Keeper, it was a source of near-infinite power. Even if the keeper never advanced beyond the third tier of magic, mages far above them in ability would tremble before the great forces a keeper could wield through the might of the Realmstone. Beyond raw power, it also provided instant sight and knowledge of anything inside the its territory. Of all the tools and weapons Orlem had at its disposal, the Realmstone was the most sought after.

    Mar looked around, half expecting someone to jump out and murder him. He doubted mundane were ever allowed to see the Realmstone itself.

    Mar shook himself out of his silent reverie. Others would be reaching the finish line soon and they would come here to claim first place and bond with the Realmstone.

    <This is it.> Jinn stated, more than a touch of eagerness in his voice. <Supply me with as much mana as you can, and I will return complete control of your spiritual manifestation to you.>

    <What of my real body?> Mar demanded.

    <The spells of the trial would have sent you back to it long ago, if not for the fact that I was occupying your body. I will need to recuperate after the other absorbs the raw materials it needs to initiate self-repair. I will have limited power during that time, and you will find it easy to return to your physical body.>

    The tendrils of energy that wrapped around the both of them condensed into a point in the center of Mar¡¯s open hand. In his hand, a small gray disk began forming, identical to the artifact the demon usually inhabited. The tingling feeling returned as Mar found that the rest of body returned to him. Mar began channeling all the mana he could into the stone. It was coming to him much easier now. In fact, ever since he had had that vision he seemed to be remember all sorts of little things about manipulating mana that he¡¯d forgotten.

    Jinn instructed. <I need to be in physical contact for the best connection.>

    Mar pulled out the demon from his pocket and pressed it against the glowing red surface of the Realmstone. The light of the Realmstone faded for a second as contact was made, then quickly began shining even brighter than before.

    The stone was no longer the tiny jagged shard it had been before. It had smoothed out, jagged edges becoming round and it looked like it was on its way to becoming perfectly circular.

    Then the light on the Realmstone started to flicker. Mar watched with horror as the color or the Realmstone dimmed as mana was diverted to Jinn. He tried to pull Jinn back but he was stuck firmly to the surface of the Realmstone. It even seemed as though some of the red ruby-like substance was being pulled out of the Realmstone and into Jinn.

    Finally, Jinn released the Realmstone, which was looking much greyer and flickered a dull red. There was a sudden snap, and suddenly a huge crack formed straight through the Realmstone.

    <What did you do!?> Mar hissed in alarm.

    <I did not believe the other would be so eager in its¡­ extraction process. It seems we took a bit more than planned.>Jinn replied. He almost sounded embarrassed.

    <A bit!?>

    <Enough talk, your physical body is in danger and my I am rapidly losing control of it. Sit down and allow yourself to drift back to the physical realm, and hurry. I imagine we have limited time before this whole city starts falling apart. My mind is starting to feel¡­ lethargic. I think I may be about to fall¡­ asleep¡­> Jinn¡¯s voice was growing slower and quieter.

    Mar was about to reply when suddenly there were voices audible from the staircase. More contestants had made here and they were blocking the only exit. They would have to fight. To have made it this far though, they would all have to be incredibly skilled. Without Jinn¡¯s abilities, there was no way Mar would be fit to fight one of them, let alone all of them.

    Mar silenced any further words he had for Jinn and hid behind a pillar. Perhaps they would wander by him and he could slip behind. He only needed a minute of concentration to slip back into his real body.

 The Wrath of Mages 2

    Verona turned to her four comrades ¡ªDarrik¡¯s comrades, she corrected herself. Though she was ostensibly the leader of this team, she had no illusions of actually being in control. She saw how they all turned to Darrik, the subtle nods he gave them, instructing them to continue obeying her for the time being.

    It grated her. She hated having been forced to ally herself with the Pyrastern family. They were slavers, though they primarily dealt with non-humans. Verona had seen the looks in the eyes of the captive sun elves bound for the Pyrastern production facilities. Though she had more human blood than elf they could tell with a simple glance she shared their heritage and the looks in their eyes told her they thought her a traitor. She never let her guard down so long as she was around a Pyrastern. Most of the family was reasonable enough, but Darrik had always had a sadistic streak to him. It might have been paranoia, but she couldn¡¯t help but feel Darrik thought of her as little more than chattel that had somehow gotten loose of its chains. She wouldn¡¯t need to put up with him for too much longer though. Soon she¡¯d have everything she¡¯d need to annul that ridiculous engagement and say goodbye to Darrik forever. She shivered, remembering how he wrapped his arm around her.

    Verona had no illusions about what her life would be like if she hadn¡¯t been so blessed with magical talent. There were precious few places in the world that would accept half-elves. Here in Orlem, she¡¯d be lucky to be treated as a second-class citizen for her non-human heritage. She unconsciously swept her hair back over her ears, obscuring the slight points. It was only because Orlem was the cosmopolitan urban center it was that she wasn¡¯t exiled from its walls at birth.

    Someday things would change. Someday soon if she had anything to say about it. For years she had bowed and scraped and groveled to those that had sneered at her with looks of disgust on their face. She could only imagine what they would have done to her if she wasn¡¯t a mage. In Orlem, magic ruled, and those with magic commanded great respect. Among mages, those with the most power commanded the most respect. Among all the mages currently training at Orlem¡¯s school of magic, she had the most power. If she continued to train and grow, she could someday become the most powerful woman in Orlem. When that day came she would have to power to alter Orlem as she wished, and make it a better place for all.

    She would make this city beautiful. Make it what the founders had meant for it to become. A place of magic, pure and simple, not tied down by the prejudices of lesser nations. The mages of Orlem were the best in the world at elemental magic, but there was so much more to learn. Bringing in a few masters from the dwarven kingdoms had been a start, but it only scratched the surface of what mages in Orlem could learn if they just opened themselves up to new types of magic that didn¡¯t fit into their mold. In their arrogance, the mages of Orlem dismissed the beastkin, the elves, the orcs and so many others, but all of them had powerful and vibrant mystic arts of their own to teach. Perhaps if the masters had been more open minded about what qualified as magic, her childhood friend Mar would be at her side, rather than that slime, Darrik. She was certain that the tests did not lie, she¡¯d been right there beside him during all their examinations. She¡¯d been shocked and confused when she¡¯d been told he had no aptitude for magic. That was impossible, there was simply no way Mar wasn¡¯t a mage. He was far too clever to be a simple mundane.

    That¡¯s why she¡¯d been so happy for him when he told her that he was leaving Orlem. She¡¯d watched the proud young boy she knew slowly withering away among the books and drudgery of common labor. He was destined for so much more.

    And when the day came that he returned to Orlem as a great mage, she would be there to greet him. She¡¯d rebuild the city into a kinder, more accepting place that cared for all its citizens, just like they¡¯d always talked about.

    But there was no time for wistfulness now. She needed the Pyrasterns help, just as they needed hers. They were using her for her talents, just as she used them for their resources. Once this was all over though, Verona would try her damndest to find a way to distance herself as much as possible from the Pyrasterns. And when the time was right, she¡¯d make sure to bring their empire ¡ªslaves and all¡ª crashing to the ground.

    She blinked away her thoughts and noticed the others were chatting lightly.

    <But how the hell did they get the doors open? We have one of the three keys, and you need all of them to open the door.> Ayron whispered. Although his lips barely seemed to move his air magic was sufficient to carry his words across the aether.

    <Well then, they must have opened the door without the keys.> Darrik replied coldly.

    <Without the keys! But that would involve breaking the enchantment!>

    <It¡¯s happened before.> one of the other group members said.

    <But we know anybody who¡¯s anybody from our year, and nobody is that good an enchanter. Breaking that spell would require a third order specialist. At least! There¡¯s nobody like that eligible for the trials in Orlem!> Complained Roy, the groups earth mage.

    <Somebody must have been holding back. Playing the long game. Wish I knew who it was.> Sarasha muttered.

    Darrik stroked his chin. <Or it¡¯s someone not from Orlem.>

    <Enough.> Verona said. <We still have a chance at winning if we can take down whoever got here before us before they can complete the bonding ritual. We¡¯ll take them by surprise and blast them with everything we¡¯ve got. Once we take them and whoever is with them out of the picture you are going to collapse the staircase.> Verona pointed to the earth mage, Roy. <While you> Verona pointed at the Ayron <Keep an eye out for any who might be looking to interrupt us. Watch my back, I won¡¯t be able to fight while the bonding is underway. That¡¯s what you¡¯re here for, after all.>

    Verona noticed with irritation that they turned towards Darrik for confirmation. He gave a slight nod, but there seemed to be more there then simple encouragement. Verona¡¯s suspicion grew, but she dismissed it. She didn¡¯t have time to worry now.

    <On my word.> Verona whispered at the bottom of the stairs.

    <Go!> She shouted and they all burst into the room, expecting to encounter a dozen third order mages armed and ready.

    They were surprised when the room was empty.

    <I don¡¯t sense anyone breathing¡­> The Ayron whispered.

    <This is the spirit realm, airhead, nobody¡¯s breathing unless they want to.> Sarasha, the groups water mage, hissed quietly.

    <They¡¯re here. Nobody would blast their way towards the finish line and then just leave the grand prize unclaimed. Be prepared for anything. This is likely a trap.> Verona replied sternly.

    They wandered around and Verona had both the air mage and the earth mage scan the surrounding area by sensing the vibrations through their respective mediums. Both picked up nothing.

    <Nobody¡¯s here.> Darrik stated with finality.

    Verona shook her head <This doesn¡¯t make any sense. They have to be here.> She noticed that the other mages had gathered around her. <What are you all doing standing here? Keep looking.>Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

    None of the others moved or spoke. They all looked to Darrik.

    Darrik barked a laugh. <It seems you¡¯ve played out your part, Verona.>

    <Darrik, this is no time for games.> Verona hissed.

    <I¡¯ll admit you are talented, half-elf. I know my limitations well enough to realize we likely wouldn¡¯t have made it here without your talents. But now that we have you need to know you¡¯re not going to be the one claiming the Realmstone this year. I will.>

    <That wasn¡¯t our deal Darrik.> Verona replied, blood rising to her face in anger. She had to mentally steady herself. She knew this betrayal was coming, but she¡¯d hoped it wouldn¡¯t be so soon.

    <I¡¯m altering our deal.> Darrik grinned.

    <I¡¯m not surprised. You were never one to work with other people, Darrik. I knew you¡¯d betray me sooner or later. I just didn¡¯t think you¡¯d do something this stupid.> Verona looked at the other mages. <And you¡¯re all following along with him. Why?>

    Roy, their earth mage looked around. <Sorry Verona. It¡¯s just my family¡­ well, we owe the Pyrasterns a lot.> There were several more nods.

    Verona met their traitorous gazes. <I¡¯ve sparred with each of you. Hells, I¡¯ve sparred with all of you at once. Even now, half depleted of mana I could defeat the four of you with both hands tied behind my back. You can¡¯t win this. Not against me.>

    The mages exchanged nervous looks. They all knew the words Verona spoke were true. All of them were talented third order mages, but Verona had reached the fourth order at the record breaking age of fifteen. Even ten third order mages would be hard pressed to overcome her.

    <I¡¯ll give you this one chance.> Verona continued. <When this trial is finished I will be named Keeper. I will found my own dynasty, and I will have the power to protect you and your families from whatever grasp the Pyrasterns have on you. Give up and work under me, for real, instead of just pretending to be my comrades.>

    Roy glanced anxiously at Sarasha and Ayron, who seemed to be honestly considering Verona¡¯s offer. He turned to Darrik, who stood motionless except for his furious expression. Sarasha was the first to break the tension. With three brisk steps, she broke formation and went to stand behind Verona.

    Ayron snorted and moved over to stand by Darrik¡¯s side. Roy was caught between the two opposing forces. He realized with trepidation that he had suddenly become the center of attention.

    <Stop standing there like an idiot.> Darrik snarled.

    <You have a choice to make, Roy. Choose wisely. Your decision tonight might very well determine how you spend the rest of your life.>

    The earth mage glanced once more at Darrik and Verona each. After a long moment, he looked over at Darrik one last time. <You were always a real prick, Darrik. Goodbye and good riddance!> and then he hurried over to Verona¡¯s side. When he turned around he expected Darrik to be enraged at this sudden turn of events, but he just stood there grinning like a madman.

    <See Darrik? You think you¡¯re so good at controlling others, but fear isn¡¯t a reliable source of power. Respect is.> Verona stretched out her hands as the familiar feeling of mana coursing through her warmed her body. Light gathered at the tips of her fingers and sparks arched between them.

    <You¡¯ve made your choices, Darrik, and you as well Ayron. When next we meet we will be enemies.>

    Darrik¡¯s grin widened. <No Verona. We won¡¯t be meeting again. Sarasha? Shut her up.>

    The magic coursing through Verona¡¯s limbs sputtered and died. She looked down at her abdomen. Her manifestation was rapidly breaking down and wild mana was spraying everywhere. A wave of agony hit her. Verona collapsed to her knees.

    She groped around her side and felt the handle of a something jutting out of her back. It felt like a dagger, but the pain was so much more intense than something a simple piece of metal should be able to cause.

    <What¡­ did¡­ you¡­> Verona weakly demanded.

    Darrik walked over and grasped Verona¡¯s chin in his hand, gently raising her head to look him in the eyes. <What I¡¯m doing, elf, is killing you.> Darrik pulled back a foot and slammed it into Verona¡¯s stomach. She coughed up a puddle of shimmering water mana.

    <Oh, I know what you¡¯re thinking, half-blood. How? The Realmstone doesn¡¯t allow death during the trials. That¡¯s why we do this in the spirit realm. Well, it turns out the Realmstone isn¡¯t as all-powerful as people tend to believe.>

    Verona groaned on the ground. The colors were fading rapidly from her and she was beginning to turn gray.

    <You¡¯ve no doubt heard that I¡¯ve been collecting rare and precious artifacts. Why, just the other day I nearly had a warlock¡¯s totem in my grasps! That little trinket would have made what comes next so much easier. But I¡¯m a clever man, and I managed to get this little dagger working, even without a demon¡¯s guidance. All it took was a little bit of spirit magic. Now I haven¡¯t a clue how to go about actually wielding spirit magic, but my family owns plenty of slaves. It was easy enough to kill off a dozen of them to power and test my new favorite toy. Sarasha was kind enough to demonstrate one of its many uses to you.>

    Verona¡¯s limbs were going cold. This wasn¡¯t the sensation of being banished back into her physical body. She felt her mind beginning to slip. She scrambled desperately, reaching for her power to patch her wounds and grant her the strength to stand, but she couldn¡¯t summon the energy. It hit her with frightful realization. She was dying, and for the first time in so many years, her magic was beyond her grasp, leaving her completely helpless.

    Darkness began to overtake her vision, and her mind wandered to a time long ago.

    She¡¯d been lying in the muck. After her mother¡¯s death, the brothel owner had kicked her out onto the streets. She¡¯d been seven years old at the time, but elves, even half-elves, mature slower than humans. She¡¯d barley learned to talk and had no idea how to scavenge for food. The other street children had robbed her of everything she¡¯d salvaged from her mother¡¯s room within the end of the first night. A week after that, her belly was empty and every part of her body ached.

    And so, she lay down in the empty alley, just praying for her miserable life to come to an end. That¡¯s when he came. A boy her own age, dressed in the finest garb she¡¯d ever seen. He¡¯d picked her up and carried her back to the orphanage where he lived. He¡¯d demanded the people there give her food and drink, though the people there were hesitant to aid anyone with elf-blood the boy threw such a fit they gave it. Eventually some mages came to poke and prod her, and to their astonishment they discovered she had nearly as much talent for magic as the boy who¡¯d found her.

    That¡¯s right. She would have died that day if it wasn¡¯t for Mar.

    Suddenly, the constant pain that had defined her existence for the last minute vanished, leaving only the throbbing ache of a gaping wound. She reached for her magic and this time it came to her without effort. Immediately, she began repairing the damage to her manifestation. Were this the real world it would have taken her much longer to heal herself, but here in the spirit realm things were much simpler.

    When she was finally able to move her arm, she reached around behind her for the knife. Sure enough, it was gone. Someone had pulled it out while she was on the ground, but who? Roy perhaps? But he had run all the way to the far wall, looking terrified. Then she spotted movement in the shadows. Ayron was looking that way, as was Darrik. Sarasha was picking herself up from off the ground while looking in that direction.

    The figure was dressed all in black with a cloak and a hood. His manifestation was impressively detailed, even better constructed than Verona¡¯s own. By that logic, he must have been a very talented mage. Glancing at the figures hand, she saw a black dagger that was wreathed in a sinister silver mist. Red mana still dripped from its edge like drops of blood. She reached for her back again. She knew that was the blade that had until recently been inside her.

    The figure pulled back his arm, tossing the dagger so he held it point in hand. Drawing back his arm he hurled the knife at Darrik. There was a wide-eyed expression on Darrik¡¯s face as he saw the piece of unholy enchantment flying at him, and he desperately threw himself to the ground to avoid touching it. He needn¡¯t have bothered. The knife clearly wasn¡¯t designed for throwing, and even if it had been the thrower wasn¡¯t particularly well practiced in that art.

    The black-cloaked mage charged forward and tackled Ayron to the ground. Straddling the air mage, the mysterious interloper punched Ayron in the face repeatedly.

    It was strange that a mage with such a powerful, detailed manifestation wasn¡¯t returning with spell craft, and instead opting for such a mundane method of attack as punching. But it would be easy enough to remedy the lack of fireballs in the air. It was clear that this figure in black had been the one who had saved her life, and Verona always payed her debts.

    The moment Verona could move her legs she sprang to her feet. Sarasha turned to her and fired off a flurry of ice shards. Verona had sparred with the water mage before though, and her reaction time was inhumanly fast, thanks to her elvish blood. Instantly, she had her most powerful shielding spell up and the ice spikes shattered on it like glass hitting stone. Unlike a shielding spell cast by most other mages, this one was forged from all of Verona¡¯s affinities and so contained essence of fire, earth, water, and air. In doing so, it played to each elements strengths, and covered each weakness. The rigidity of earth, the flexibility of water, the resilience of air, and the persistence of fire.

    Even weakened by Darrik¡¯s repairs and her mana pool drained from healing herself, she was a omni-elemental mage of the fourth order. It was time she showed them what she was really made of.

 The Wrath of Mages 3

    Mar stood completely still as the young mages scanned the room. He was hidden from sight in his current hiding spot. Luckily air mages were not nearly so good at detecting foreign presence in the spirit realm because there was no breathing or heartbeats.

    They came to a stop, turning their backs away from him. That was unusual. They seemed to be surrounding one of their own number, weapons at the ready. Was he witnessing some sort of betrayal?

    Mar reminded himself that it was none of his business as he peered around the corner. Hopefully this group would start fighting amongst themselves, and in the confusion and chaos he could slip behind them. Or better yet, just buy him a few moments to slip back into the physical realm.

    Wait a minute¡­ what was he so worried about? This was the spirit realm, he could just bash his head in with a rock and the Realmstone would whisk him right back to his physical body.

    Then Mar remembered the shattered ruby in the alcove just behind him. That broken thing wouldn¡¯t be casting any magic on anyone. Which meant the Trial¡¯s safeguards were no longer in place. Suddenly, the spirit realm just got a lot more dangerous. It also meant that death here might very well mean death in the real world.

    The moment he managed to return to his physical body he should tell the masters what had happened so that they could stop the Trials and the countless meaningless deaths that would result. Except then they would know he played a part in the Realmstone¡¯s destruction. If that happened, death would be a mercy to him. No, it was best to stick to the demon¡¯s plan and escape the city. He¡¯d been planning on leaving anyway.

    There was some chatter going on between the mages and Mar shut it out. He didn¡¯t want to risk anything that might tip off the air mage, so he stayed very still and tried to visualize a tether coming out of his chest and tying him to his physical body. If he¡¯d been trained as a mage he probably could have accomplished this feat in a minute or less, but with only half-remembered excerpts from texts he¡¯d read Mar was at a disadvantage.

    Just as he thought he was beginning to see wispy strands in front of him, Mar heard a familiar voice. Or rather, he intercepted a thought that felt familiar, since he couldn¡¯t actually hear anything in the metaphysical spirit realm.

    <It seems like you¡¯ve played out your part, Verona.>

    Verona? It couldn¡¯t be¡­ but it made too much sense. Of course her group would be the first to make it here. Mar himself had been betting on Verona¡¯s victory.

    <Darrik, this is no time for games.>

    That confirmed it. Even without sound, Mar could tell those thoughts were Verona¡¯s

    He was still upset with her over the other day, but he wanted to talk to her one last time. He¡¯d have to flee Orlem after this, and it might be the last chance he¡¯d ever get to see her.

    Mar peered at her. Her manifestation was cruder than he expected from a mage of her caliber, but it was still a better representation of her physical form than that of anyone other mage he¡¯d seen. Just as he was gazing at her he noticed the water mage who had taken a position behind his old friend was pulling something out of the robe she was wearing. Even obscured by the folds of cloth the long pointed piece of metal at the end of the handle was unmistakably some sort of weapon.

    The dagger was beautiful, in an eldritch sort of way. It¡¯s shape seemed to change as Mar watched it shimmer, and a silver mist spewed forth from the edge and collected in the aether around the blade. Some secret hidden sense that had long lain sleeping awoke and blared a warning in Mar¡¯s mind. That dagger was dangerous.

    Mar reached into his pocket and pulled out the gray stone. It was more of a blackish-red now, and it was almost the size of his fist. It was also more rounded and much smoother, giving it a sleek and sinister look.

    Mar¡¯s eyes widened in alarm as the dagger was plunged right into the back of an unsuspecting Verona. She cried out in pain and doubled over.

    <Jinn!> Mar shook the stone in his hand.

    <Ugh¡­ What?> The demon replied sleepily. The stone took on a dim glow. <What¡­ are you still doing here? Get out before somebody¡­ comes and destroys¡­ us both¡­> The light started fading from the stone as the demon trailed off.

    <I need your help again! Fire off a spell! Use those tendrils!> Mar pleaded.

    The stone glowed brighter for a moment, and fire mana swirled around it. Then just as suddenly, the magic sputtered and died.

    <Too¡­ tired¡­>

    <She¡¯s dying!> Mar cried out mentally. He could sense it. It wasn¡¯t just the absence of the Realmstone that was doing it either. That dagger was evil, and it was sucking the very soul from Verona¡¯s body.

    His manifested body was moving before he could tell it otherwise. He¡¯d already leapt to his feet and was moving in Verona¡¯s direction. He was faster here in the spirit realm than he was in the physical one. He tucked his chin and lowered his shoulder, ramming that water mage right off her feet and sending her sprawling on the ground.

    The impact allowed him to bring himself to a dead stop just above Verona¡¯s unmoving body. He reached down and grabbed the dagger¡¯s handle and pulled it out. To his dismay, the gaping wound left behind continued spewing mana that otherwise would have been contained in her aura. But then there was a twitch of movement and the wound started healing.

    Mar couldn¡¯t spend more time to stay and watch. The other mages were recovering from their surprise at his appearance and were preparing offensive spells.

    Mar dashed back into the shadows by the pillars just in time. A burst of fire splashed against the cool stone where his head had been a moment ago. Darrik.

    Mar snarled mentally. Darrik. Part of him said Verona deserved this for trusting that ass. Mar promptly told that part of himself to shut it so he could focus on the task at hand.

    No doubt both Darrik and that air mage had magic prepared for the moment he stuck his head out into the open, and it would only be moments before that water mage was able to join them.

    If only he had Jinn¡¯s magic¡­ Mar remembered how easily those other mages had been tossed aside by the demons mystic might, and he had to admit he¡¯d vicariously enjoyed the feeling of power over the snobbish spell crafters. But Jinn was too out of it to cast a spell. Mar was on his own.

    He¡¯d had some success in a physical confrontation against Chetz and his group. Maybe he could do that again. For some reason his body here in the spirit realm was far faster and stronger than that of the mages. Jinn had changed some things, but Mar could feel his manifestation was just as strong and quick as before, if not more so.

    Mar realized he needed some sort of diversion that would get one of the mages off his back for long enough that he could deal with the other. He glanced at the dagger in his hand, which was still wreathed in silver mist. A steady stream of blood-red mana dripped off the needle-like tip. It would have to do.

    He¡¯d never tried knife throwing, but Mar had seen sailors and gangsters throw knives enough times that he knew the basic forms. He flipped the knife around in his hand so the it pointed downwards. The blade was clearly designed specifically for thrusting, and so there was very little edge to dig into his palm. The handle was far heavier than the thin blade, and the whole thing felt horribly unbalanced.The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

    Mar drew back his hand. In one continuous motion he stepped clear of the pillar and thrust his arm forward. Darrik was just about to cast his fireball spell when he noticed the knife spiraling through the air towards him. In a moment of panic he aborted his spell and dove for the ground.

    Mar didn¡¯t stay still to watch. The air mage was a little slower on the draw but he also had a spell ready. Mar broke into a full sprint and zig-zagged just far enough to avoid an incoming air missile. Once again he was amazed at how responsive this body was compared to his physical one.

    He lowered his shoulder and tucked his chin, just as he¡¯d done to take down the water mage. He hit the air mage in a tackle that knocked him off his feet and sent him sprawling on the ground. Mar didn¡¯t let up though as he had with the water mage. He straddled the downed aeromancer and punched him as hard as he could right in the face with his right hand. Then he pulled back his left hand and did the same thing. Despite not having blood Mar felt a rush of energy flood his body, urging him to pound his downed foe into oblivion. Mar resisted the urge. Without the Realmstone death in the spirit realm meant death in the physical realm, and Mar didn¡¯t want to become a murderer.

    Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the water mage getting to her feet. She looked like she was preparing a spell and Mar realized he¡¯d be hit if he didn¡¯t dive out of the way. But then she suddenly turned and fired off her flurry of ice magic in a completely different direction.

    Mar followed the flying icicles and watched them collide with a glowing multi-colored shielding spell. Verona had joined the fight.

    The water mage was outmatched and she knew it. Even as her first spell shattered on Verona¡¯s shielding spell she readied another wave of flying icicles. That second spell was blocked as easily as the first. The girl fired the same spell three more times and in each instance it was easily blocked. Clearly the water mage lacked a versatile arsenal of offensive spells.

    She threw a panicked look over to Darrik, who was stooped over picking something up off the ground. He turned towards Verona and his distressed comrade, who he then ignored as his eyes lit upon the earth mage, who had pressed himself against the far wall and was glancing around with a panicked look on his face. He hadn¡¯t done anything thus far, not knowing which side he was on. When his eyes met Darrik¡¯s though, he began furiously channeling a spell that seemed to be allowing him to sink backwards into the wall.

    Verona had closed the distance between her and the water mage by now. She dropped her shielding spell and held out her open hand, into which a lance of fire materialized. The water mage desperately tried to conjure another blast of ice but was thwarted when Verona knocked her hands aside with the fire lance. She tried to bring her singed hands up to defend herself but a blast of air magic from Verona¡¯s free hand knocked her flat on her back. She held up her hands in a vain attempt to ward off the blow she knew was coming.

    Just as Verona was about to finish her opponent Mar leapt up and intervened.

    <Verona! Don¡¯t kill her!>

    Verona tilted her head in surprise. <How did you¡­>

    <It¡¯s the Realmstone! It¡¯s broken! Just trust me. And you, water mage. Don¡¯t move an inch unless you want to die for real.>

    Verona hesitated, glancing down at the downed water mage. After a moment tension she let her fire lance dispel into the aether.

    <Good. Now we just need¡ª> Mar was cut off mid sentence as a burning hot hand wrapped around his throat. Mar pulled back his foot and hooked it around his attacker¡¯s leg before throwing it forward, taking the footing out from beneath his attacker. Mar threw himself backwards so that he landed on top of his assailant. He hit with enough force to dislodge his opponent''s grip and Mar used that opportunity to role on top of him. It was Darrik, sure enough, and he had a snarl of absolute hatred. A snarl that quickly turned into a look of confusion as he made out the features beneath the black hood. There was something else there though. The expression didn¡¯t quite reach his eyes, and Mar couldn¡¯t help but feel that he sensed a trace of glee there in it¡¯s place.

    Mar decided on the same technique that had been so effective on the air mage. He pulled back his right arm and punched Darrik in the jaw, rocking his head to one side. For some reason it also felt so much better than when punched the air mage. Darrik didn¡¯t stay down though. He grabbed Mar¡¯s arm as he was going in for a second punch. Much to his surprise, he couldn¡¯t overpower Mar here in the spirit realm, and the fist still collided with the side of his head, albeit with less energy.

    Mar turned to look at Verona, wondering why she hadn¡¯t jumped in. The water mage had gotten up, despite Mar¡¯s warning and had re-engaged Verona once again. Worse, the air mage Mar had previously pummeled seemed to be regaining his strength and sitting up.

    Darrik used the momentary distraction to his advantage. Just when Mar was beginning to feel confident in his victory Darrik¡¯s arm started lighting up with fire magic, and Mar took a point-blank fireball directly in the chest.

    Mar doubled over in pain, clutching at his chest. Verona had dealt with the water mage again, and the air mage was holding up his hands in submission. Verona was looking in Darrik¡¯s direction and heading their way. Noticing her, Darrik did something odd.

    He lifted his hand to his mouth and bit down hard. Even through the pain in his chest Mar was able to notice the distinctive red drops of blood welling up from Darrik¡¯s injured hand. That was odd, there was no blood in the spirit realm. Then Darrik waved his hand in Verona¡¯s direction and as the red droplets hit the ground a curtain of fire erupted from the stone.

    <Fire ring!> Darrik hissed the trigger word to the same spell he¡¯d used on Mar days ago, and the curtain of flame encircled the both of them.

    Darrik clapped slowly as he stood, rubbing his jaw. He healed the blemishes in his manifestation as his hand passed over his features.

    <I¡¯d say you¡¯re the last person I expected to find here, Marus, but really you¡¯re only here because of me. I hired Chetz and that gang of fools he calls mages to bring you into this place. I seems they managed to find you at the last moment. I was worried for awhile there.>

    Mar shut out the pain so he could focus. Darrik repaired the damage to his manifestation, and so could he, all he had to do was focus. Just when Mar sensed his wounds were starting to heal, Darrik summoned up another fireball. Mar tried to dodge, but with his current injury he was too slow. The blast of fire magic to his chest sent Mar sprawling across the ground, bringing his head dangerously close to the edge of the blood-fire ring.

    <Don¡¯t ignore me when I¡¯m talking to you Marus.>

    Darrik reached into his robes and plucked out the dagger. <Do you remember this little toy, Marus? It used to belong to you. Well, not you, but you.>

    <Jinn! I need your help!> Mar desperately shook the stone in his pocket, but nothing happened.

    <Be quiet!> Darrik demanded. <I¡¯ve waited too long for this day to have it spoiled.> Then Darrik closed his eyes and clasped the dagger between both hands, mumbling to himself as if in prayer. <At last, I will avenge you¡­>

    Jinn didn¡¯t respond, though Mar kept shaking Jinn¡¯s stone with his trembling hands.

    <Tell me, Marus. Do you remember this dagger? It used to be yours. Oh¡­ I suppose not. If you remembered anything from before I wouldn¡¯t exactly be able to do this!> Darrik unleashed another cruel blast of fire magic that hit Mar¡¯s leg with the force of a sledge hammer, causing him to cry out in pain.

    <My powers are a shadow of what they once were, but where mine are a shadow yours have deserted you entirely!> Darrik mocked.

    <W-what are you b-blabbering o-on about?> Mar stuttered the thought out through the pain.

    Darrik grinned. <You really don¡¯t remember anything! Well, allow me to instruct you. You are a monster born of death. An evil so wicked and so vile that even when the hottest flames of the seventh hell reduced your body to ash, still you survived.>

    <I¡¯ve d-done n-nothing to you, Darrik. Y-you¡¯ve hated me and p-prayed on my whole life.>

    <YOU DARE!?> Darrik screeched. <You DARE spout your lies before me! You DARE presume innocence even as you prance about in little Marus¡¯ stolen corpse!?>

    Mar could only gape at Darrik. This level of vitriol was something beyond what Mar had ever seen before. Any semblance of sanity Darrik maintained was stripped away and his hatred was palpable.

    <Ever since I followed you into this incarnation I have planned for this day. I¡¯ve watched and waited. The humans here are nothing compared to what they once were, and it was a simple matter convince them that I was an ambitious but stupid child, leaving me free to do my work. You will be the first fragment to be destroyed, but once I hunt the rest of you down and deal the final blow with your own sword --though it¡¯s hardly the blade it once was-- you will be destroyed forever!. May you return to the shattered Worldforge as the last vestiges of your soul are wiped from this world! Goodbye, Magn¡ª>

    The knife fell from Darrik¡¯s hand and clattered to the ground. It was soon followed by the rest of his body. When Darrik¡¯s head hit the stone, Mar realized that the back half had been caved in. In it¡¯s place was a massive chunk of rock.

    <Screw you, Darrik you bastard!> Came a voice from outside the ring of fire. <I¡¯m with Verona now. I don¡¯t care if your family makes ever mana crystal in the world! My family can find a new business, and you can find a new earth mage!>

    The flames died down, revealing a figure that Mar recognized. It was the earth mage from the Pyrastern estate, who had been waiting in ambush for Mar and Yavin.

    Verona looked at Darrik¡¯s body curiously, which was rapidly dissipating into wild mana. The Realmstone should have whisked it away immediately. Then she looked at Mar¡¯s tattered cloak, with the hood thrown back. Her eyes widened.

    <Mar?>

 The Wrath of Mages 4

    <Mar? Is that you?>

    The question hangs in the air for several seconds. <Hello, Verona.>

    <But¡­ how? You can¡¯t¡­>

    <It¡¯s a long story, and I¡¯m afraid I don¡¯t have time to tell you all of it. I need to get out of here, fast. This might be the last time I ever see you, Verona. You should leave the spirit realm and return to your body. The Realmstone is destroyed, tell the masters when you get out of here. They need to stop the trials.>

    <Wait, what do you mean the Realmstone is destroyed?>

    <It gone Verona. Reduced to broken chunks of crystal. You need to get the masters to stop the trials. Without the Realmstone, anyone who in here will be dead for real.>

    Verona stared at him. <We collapsed the stairwell as soon as we got here, and as far as I can tell that barricade is intact. The only way got in here was if you got in before us. The enchantment on the door was completely shattered when we got to it¡­ was that you?>

    <No. Well, kinda, but not really. It was my mana and body, but not me. It¡¯s a long story¡­ too long for the time we have. Just get out of here for me Verona. I¡¯m leaving Orlem, and if what I think will happen occurs, then you should too.>

    <Mar.> Verona grasps Mar¡¯s hand.

    <I can¡¯t promise anything¡­ but if I can find you, I will. Goodbye Verona.>

    Mar calmed his mind, remembering his physical body with all it¡¯s quirks and features. He relaxed his thoughts and a winding gray chord began to sprout from his stomach. He followed it¡¯s trail with his mind''s eye, and surprisingly it did not lead far away.

    Mar focused on traveling down that line, and his manifestation shrank to nothing as it compressed into the form his aura normally took, shooting down the ethereal chord and returning to his physical body.

    <hr>

    Mar awoke with something uncomfortably sharp jabbing into his back. He was lying on his side in a puddle of warm liquid that was slowly seeping into his clothes. There was a foul smell that permeated the air and made Mar resort to breathing through his mouth.

    Groggily, Mar summoned the energy to sit up. His vision was blurry and every part of him felt sore. He felt around the warm sludge near him and grabbed the sharp thing that had been poking him in the ribs and held it up to the dim light of the rooms single torch. He was surprised to see it was a mithril gauntlet, like the kind the royal guard who protected the palace wore.

    Interesting. Mithril was immensely expensive and Mar always wanted to examine a piece of it. The Royal Guard here in Orlem wore a diluted alloy of the mithral strictly for ceremonial purposes, but even so it was supposed to be twice as strong as steel and half the weight.

    Mar tried to fit his hand into the gauntlet, but it wouldn¡¯t go. There was something soft and squishy gumming up the inside that prevented Mar from putting his hand in it. Mar held up the gauntlet by the the middle and ring finger and shook the obstruction loose. Into his lap plopped a bloody, severed hand.

    Mar jumped back in shock and surprise, only to find that his hand had landed in something warm, wet, and gooey in a roundish cracked bowl. He stood up and grabbed the torch on the wall. Pulling it down and holding it close he was able to examine his surroundings.

    There was blood everywhere, and interspersed between the inky red pools were severed limbs and heads. Blood wasn¡¯t the only liquid either. All manner of body fluids coated the floor. Piss and shit intermingled with brain juices and intestinal fluid. The thing he had just stuck his hand in was a smashed human skull. Mar could even see his hand print crushed into the brain itself. It looked as though some rabid animal had been let loose, tearing everyone and everything to shreds with every intent on maximizing the suffering for everyone involved.

    Mar felt a wetness in his throat and he stooped over as vomit poured out of his mouth and hit the floor with a disgusting slapping sound. His puke was quickly washed away by copious fluids already present on the ground beneath him.

    After a minute more Mar had no more breakfast left to vomit up. He had to get out of here. Just as he was about to leave when he noticed something gleaming and red in the muck. It was a shard of ruby, stationed next to a pedestal that was identical to the one in the spirit realm.

    Eventually Mar¡¯s prudence overcame his disgust and he picked up the gemstone. It was a fragment of the now shattered Realmstone. Mar placed it in his pocket. It likely contained some mana still, and if nothing else he could sell it for coin. That was something he¡¯d certainly need.

    There were no dry spots for him to hop too and from as he made his way to the exit, so Mar was forced to wade through the stew of human debris. Mar could feel the fluids seeping into his boots with every second. With each step his feet made a squelching sound as air and body fluids squished between his toes and the sole of his boot. It felt enough like water that Mar could almost convince himself he was simply walking through a puddle on a rainy day. Almost.

    Even when he left the room, the remnants of the bloodbath that had taken place did not fade. The bodies were fewer in number now but here or there Mar would come across the mangled remains of what had once been a living breathing human. Many of the bodies were still warm.

    When Mar finally came to the huge doors he opened them a crack, letting noonday light stream in, allowing him to examine himself beyond what the dim light of the torch could provide.

    He looked like a monster. He was covered head to toe in blood and guts, and there was a bit of intestines clinging to his shoulder. If Mar had any breakfast left to puke up he would have lost it then.

    He turned to the nearest body, which was far cleaner than the rest. He had to clean himself off, not just for his peace of mind, but so that he could step outside without everyone immediately thinking he was a vampire fresh a feat. Mar stripped off his blood-soaked clothes.

    He stripped the tunic off the body of the second cleanest guard and used it to quickly scrub himself free from the worst of the grime. Luckily the man had a canteen of water on him and Mar poured it over himself. His hair was still matted with blood and his skin was still dyed red, but he no longer felt like a walking pile of excrement.

    After quickly towelling himself down Mar stripped the cleaner guard and started trying on his clothes. The man had been bigger than Mar, but after hiking up the trousers a bit Mar was able to get them to fit. He tried to get the armor on but the straps were too extensive and elaborate for him to adjust by himself. He settled for just taking the helmet to hide the blood in his hair and smeared on his face. Mar grabbed the plumes that stuck out of the helmet and ripped them out so that he wouldn¡¯t look too much like a royal guard. He grabbed the shard of ruby out of his old tunic and turned towards the door.

    The portals were his destination. Hopefully the shard of ruby would be enough to bribe his way through quickly.

    He had traveled through this part of the city many times before and knew where the nearest dock for the floating paths was. Within a minute he had reached the location, but when he stepped on the levitating stone nothing happened. Mar gave it a stomp in hopes that a good kick would get it working again, but still the magic remained fully inactive happened. That¡¯s when he looked up and noticed something was very wrong.

    Normally the floating paths were composed of countless millions of cobblestones levitated in the air and traveling in sink, forming smooth unbroken rows that would allow a citizen of Orlem to travel from one part of the city to another far quicker than walking or riding on horseback. Only the rows of cobblestones suspended in the air weren¡¯t smooth and unbroken anymore. Chunks of the path were missing here and there, and some portions of the road were absent entirely. Even as he watched chunks of cobblestone fell from the sky and hit the ground with a thud. Many of the buildings had holes in them from where earlier stones had fell from the air, puncturing roofs and knocking over walls. Mar saw the shop where he had bought ink only the day before, and noticed there was a horse drawn carriage broken on it¡¯s roof. One of the horses was dead, the other struggled vainly to hang on to the roof as the weight of the carriage it was bound to dragged it towards the ground. The pull of gravity became too much for the beast and it fell to the ground. It whinnied as it tried to stand back up, but the carriage weighed it down.Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

    Mar jogged over to the beast and undid the crude knots that held the horse to the wagon. Before the beast could bolt Mar took hold of it¡¯s reigns and held it steady. The carriage was fully loaded with goods, but there was no one inside the compartment or near the horses, which meant the owner was already dead or had run off and abandoned the horses and goods. Luckily the living horse already had a saddle on it. Clearly the owner of the carriage had been leaving in a hurry, and so didn¡¯t bother undoing the saddle and bridle to put on a proper harness for drawing a carriage. He climbed into the saddle uneasily. He¡¯d only ridden a few times before, but he would have to do so now. Once he was mounted Mar kicked the horse''s flanks to get it moving as fast as it would go.

    After getting the horse moving, Mar sped down the street. Within a few minutes, he passed by Orlem¡¯s school of magic. He turned and regarded it one last time, but just as he was about to leave a small green shape started running towards him. It was a goblin, carrying a rather large sack tossed over it¡¯s shoulder.

    ¡°Grob?¡± Mar asked aloud.

    ¡°Boss! Boss! No leaving without Grob!¡± The goblin pleaded.

    Mar turned the horse towards the little green goblin and met him halfway. Grob lifted the bag and handed it off to Mar. It was surprisingly heavy.

    ¡°Grob, I¡¯m leaving Orlem, and I can¡¯t take you with me. I don¡¯t exactly know where I¡¯m going but I know it the journey there is going to be rough. It¡¯s a harsh world and I don¡¯t know if I can take care of you when I might very well be struggling to survive myself.¡±

    ¡°No no. You don¡¯t take care of Grob. Grob takes care of you. You¡¯re the boss, and Grob knows all about finding good garbage to eat and not getting eaten by scary things. Grob grew up in the forest you know. Besides, Grob doesn¡¯t think there¡¯s gonna be much free food to steal here for awhile.¡± Grob glanced around at the burning buildings and the stones falling from the sky.

    As they traveled the ruin caused by the Realmstone¡¯s destruction grew even more prevalent. The once beautiful Overhill district was hit far harder than most. It was a favorite location for the manors of mages wealthy and powerful enough to be influential, but who weren¡¯t part of one of the major families. The presence of so many mages in the district meant that the floating paths had exits at virtually every doorway, and many of the more exotic buildings, like the tall winding spires of the floating orbs that some of the more flamboyant mages liked to call home had completely crumbled to rubble without a constant source of magic holding them together. As a result, even the more stable buildings had suffered some damage as their neighboring homes had crumbled around them. The luxury of having the floating paths descend right to the homes meant that as the paths disintegrated the structures underneath them were torn apart.

    ¡°Grob saw you earlier. Well, it was you, but not you.¡±

    Mar tilted his head slightly so he could glance at the goblin riding behind him. ¡°What do you mean?¡±

    ¡°Your body, but the face was all wrong. Boss is usually thinking, and always tired. When Grob saw you before you were angry and excited. And you had all these black wriggly worms coming out of you. You attacked the men wearing the shiny clothes and smashed them to pieces. Grob tried to follow you and pick up the shinies, but they were too heavy and one of the men wearing the shiny clothes almost stabbed Grob hard, so I go back to the paper making room, grab all the stuff we need, and wait for you to be you again and come back.¡±

    Mar filed the information away into his mind, to be contemplated when he had less on his mind. To think¡­ the stone had caused all of this carnage.

    No, it wasn¡¯t right to blame all of this on the stone. It was a demon but without a wielder the warlock¡¯s totem was just a rock. Or Eye of the Enchanter or whatever the thing really was. Mar was beginning to suspect the little gray piece of the stone was both, and at the same time, neither.

    All this carnage and ruin was his fault. Mar felt his heart sink. All that blood back in the palace. Sure, his hand may not of wielded the sword that slew those men but it was his actions that drew the blade from it¡¯s scabbard. He was to blame for all this devastation.

    Flames leered over the roofs of building walls around him, licking at the cobblestone beneath the horse''s hooves. Most of the city was made of stone, thanks to the earth mages, but stone roofs were heavy and took architectural skill to design, so many opted for wooden roofs. As a result, flames were hopping from building to building, burning the roofs and the furniture inside. Mar fixed his sight on the road ahead of him, trying not to look at the devastation to either side as he pressed onwards. He was still emotionally shaken by the carnage he¡¯d seen in the palace. Grob¡¯s first instinct of course was to use the chaos and confusion to loot some shiny trinkets, but one look at the serious expression on Mar¡¯s face told the goblin that they wouldn¡¯t be stopping.

    A huge arch of stone marked the portal array. At any other time they would have been bustling with activity, but it seemed that because of the festivities of the Trial they had been turned off. Still, there would be a portal mage here to activate a portal in the case of an emergency.

    Mar pulled back on the reins to slow the horse down. It trotted up the steps and Mar brought it to a stop at the center of the plaza. The portal center in Orlem was an artificial mesa, around the edges of which hundreds of small arches heavily engraved with runes and markings stood with precious magical stones embedded in them.

    It took Mar a few seconds to spot the dirty brown robed figure cowering under the only bench in the plaza.

    ¡°You there! Are you a portal mage?¡± Mar called out.

    ¡°Go away!¡± came a frightened and anxious voice.

    ¡°I need to use the portal.¡± Mar said.

    ¡°Haven¡¯t you looked outside? The world¡¯s ending. The walls collapsed just a few minutes ago and crushed half the city.¡±

    ¡°All the more reason to get out of here.¡± Mar replied.

    There was a moment of silence.

    ¡°If I could activate the portals.¡± The brown-robed mage began. ¡°I would have already gotten out of here. The only mage trained to use the portals took off the moment the walls fell down. I should have dived through right after her.¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s still time.¡± Mar replied. ¡°Which one of these portals leads the furthest away from here?¡±

    The brown robed mage crawled out from under the desk. ¡°That one there.¡± He pointed out an arch made of pink granite. It was a simple yet sturdy looking thing. ¡°It leads to the port town of Yvast.¡±

    ¡°Perfect. That¡¯s the one I¡¯ll take.¡±

    The brown robed mage shook his head. ¡°I told you, if I could activate the portal I would have taken off the right after the master portal mage did. But the mana lines aren¡¯t working and I can¡¯t summon enough mana to activate them by hand. For some reason after the walls came down even the simplest spells became ten times harder to cast.¡±

    Mar reached into his pocket and grabbed the finger length shard of ruby. ¡°Try this.¡± Mar tossed the shard of the Realmstone to the mage. ¡°It should have some mana left in it. And once you¡¯re done, I¡¯m sure the gemstone itself will have some value. Consider that your payment for services rendered.¡±

    The mage glanced at the stone. ¡°This doesn¡¯t look like any mana crystal I¡¯ve ever seen.¡±

    ¡°Just try it. Please.¡±

    The mage obliged and wrapped his hands around the shard of crystal as the air inside the stone arch began to hum. He reached out a hand and touched the archway, which promptly lit up as a swirling pattern appeared, which quickly began to clear and reveal afternoon light streaming through a slightly cracked door.

    ¡°Well I¡¯ll be damned. This strange little crystal had some juice in it after all.¡± The mage turned to Mar. ¡°I¡¯m afraid you¡¯ll have to leave the horse. This portal¡¯s only big enough for foot traffic.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s fine.¡± Mar unsaddled. Once he was on the ground he helped Grob off as well.

    ¡°Is that a goblin?¡± The mage asked in surprise, having not noticed Grob before.

    ¡°Yes, this is a goblin. Do you want to stand here and ask me questions or do you want to head through the portal? As I understand it, holding these things open takes a great deal of mana.¡±

    ¡°Right. I have to go last to hold it open. So, uh, after you.¡±

    Grob grabbed the bag he¡¯d brought with him and tossed it back over his shoulder. Together he and Mar headed for the portal.

    Mar spared one look at the glowing archway he was about to walk through. He¡¯d only ever traveled by portal once before, back with the orphanage. He¡¯d always wanted to see the world but portal magic was expensive, even in Orlem. There was a reason why the rest of the world still moved things the old fashioned way.

    Mar closed his eyes as he passed through the glowing arch, mentally preparing himself for the wave of nausea he knew would hit him once he passed through the other side. He staggered as he passed through, and his ears popped with the sudden change in pressure.

    When he opened his eyes, Mar saw Grob emerge through the glowing portal. The goblin immediately collapsed to the ground clutching his head and blinking rapidly.

    The portal mage followed right after, though he displayed no adverse effects from the magic gateway. Being a portal mage he¡¯d probably traveled through such arches hundreds of times.

    ¡°Good job. As I said, keep the stone as your payment.¡± Mar started to turn away but remembered something. ¡°If an inquisitor comes asking if you sent anyone through the portal before you left, please tell them you went alone.¡±

    ¡°An inquisitor!?¡± The portal mage exclaimed in alarm.

    ¡°Maybe an inquisitor, maybe not. It¡¯s in your best interest to say you didn¡¯t see anyone though. You¡¯re an accomplice now.¡± Mar gestured to the shard of the Realmstone in the mage¡¯s hands.

    The mage gulped. ¡°Uh, what did you do?¡± the mage asked uneasily.

    Mar gave him an even look. ¡°You¡¯ll find out soon enough.¡± Then he turned to the goblin. ¡°Comeon, Grob. I won¡¯t feel safe until we¡¯ve put five hundred more leagues behind us. This is a port town. Let¡¯s see if we can find passage somewhere. I¡¯ve always wanted to see the sea.¡±

 The Wrath of Mages 5

    Livy scrunched her face in concentration, pulling every drop of mana into the stone manipulation spell that was once so trivial to use. After the destruction of the Realmstone magic had become so much harder to cast and mages throughout the city found their powers diminished. Apparently this was what magic was like for mages casting magic when not in the mana-rich influence of a friendly dungeon core.

    When her mana pool ran dry she opened her eyes, and sighed. She¡¯d been tunnel through this patch of debris for a week now, but the work was slow going. Before, the earth was like wet clay, easily malleable to an earth mage of even moderate abilities. But now it seemed like the stone itself had turned against her in spite. It refused to obey her and crumbled or cracked in all the wrong places the moment she turned her attention away.

    Even after a two weeks of tunneling, she wasn¡¯t deep enough. Anyone trapped under that pile of rocks was already dead. She¡¯d already stretched her mind through the earth to listen for the slightest vibrations and found nothing. There was nobody alive for her to save.

    Her father had been near the walls, on site for a recent construction project. He¡¯d always been a very hands-on man, working just as hard as his lowliest grunt, despite his advancing age. Livy¡¯s mother hated the fact that he was working on the day of the Trials. He¡¯d given all of his people the day off, but Livy¡¯s father couldn¡¯t help but put a few hours of work in, despite the holiday. Her mother had gone to give bring him his lunch. That was the last time she had seen either of them.

    It was sad really. She had been so casual to wave goodbye to her mother and father while she went with her mage friends for a viewing of the Trials at the school. She¡¯d been so angry with them for so long over their constant insistence that she take over the family business. She¡¯d been avoiding them as much as possible, and that wasted time stung. When the walls came down they buried the outskirts of the city in rubble, and that included the site her parents were at. Livy had found the location of the once-construction site and dug with all her magic, but found nothing. It was too late for either of them to be alive now. She didn¡¯t want to find the bodies. She wanted to remember her parents as vibrant and healthy, not mangled corpses crushed under a mountain of rubble

    She was an orphan now, like Mar.

    If earth magic was still as easy as it used to be, the city would already be on it¡¯s way to recovery. As it was, most of the mages didn¡¯t think they¡¯d be able to repair the defenses in time for the Imperial invasion that was no doubt on the way. Between that and the deaths of so many young mages during the Trials, the spirit of Orlem was in the gutters. Many were voicing doubts over whether the city could be saved. Some had already packed their bags and started looking for friends or family in other cities to stay with.

    The League itself was in a precarious situation. With Orlem unexpectedly crippled, a huge power vacuum had opened up and every member of the League of Free Cities was eager to snap up Orlem¡¯s holdings and position as leader of the League, as a result, the people of Orlem couldn¡¯t call in mages from their allied cities to help them rebuild. Already there had been whispers that Volfsdown was assembling an army.

    With her mana pool completely empty, Livy¡¯s hands fell limply to her side. A slow and steady anger had been simmering inside her for these past two weeks, slowly building to a boil.

    At first they thought the Realmstone had simply malfunctioned. Then they thought that one of the other cities had snuck agents into the trial to steal the Realmstone for themselves. After that the rumor was that an imperial spy had entered the trial in disguise and sabotaged the dungeon core.

    Finally the truth was filtering down through reliable channels. A warlock was behind the destruction of the Realmstone, and all this destruction. The wielder of borrowed magic had likely destroyed it for his own malicious ends, or to serve his vile master in the abyss. Demons loved chaos, and this masterstroke was certain to cause a lot of it. Whether they were acting for one of the other cities, an agent of the empire, or simply causing chaos for his own perverse amusement, nobody knew. Livy hadn¡¯t cared much for the gossip, but she devoured every piece of information on this topic that she could get.

    According to descriptions, the warlock had been fairly young. Dirty blond hair, unnaturally pale skin, a thin wiry build, and most importantly eyes that glowed red with blood lust. At first the description reminded her slightly of Mar, in a morbid sort of way, but that was just her subconscious missing all the familiar faces that were now taken forever from her life.

    One of the first things she¡¯d done was walk through the library and ask the bookkeepers where he was, but all of them said they hadn¡¯t seen him since the day of the incident. Thankfully a new friend among the inquisitors she had made was able to get the address to the small apartment he rented.

    Livy had put this off long enough. Mar spent nearly every waking hour at the library. If he hadn¡¯t shown up over the last two weeks, it was because he wasn¡¯t able to. She didn¡¯t want to believe it, but it seemed as though he was doomed to become another name scratched from her life.

    Even after requisitioning a horse it took more than an hour to reach the anywhere in the city worth visiting. Orlem, even partially in ruins, was far too huge a city to transverse by mundane means. Without the floating paths, mundane dirt and cobblestone roads were seeing more use than they had in centuries, and it showed. Many were in ill repair from disuse, and the fact that the Realmstone had been destroyed meant there was no easy way to fix them.

    She¡¯d been putting this visit off for days, knowing what she would find. In truth, the address where Mar lived wasn¡¯t that far from the construction site her parents were at. It was also on the outskirts of the city, in the shadow of the wall.

    Livy was surprised at just how filthy the area was. Even accounting for the damages of the recent weeks it was rare to see someone clothed in anything better than rags, and men openly gawked at her. It was likely rare to see someone clean and finely dressed in this neighborhood. She let her cloak flutter open, revealing her magus robes. Most of the stares turned away when they saw the war wand strapped to her belt, though she saw more than a few men fingering rusty daggers.

    As she came closer to the walls the devastation to the outer reaches of the city became more apparent. The roads weren¡¯t any smaller than elsewhere in the city, but the amount of usable space was steadily shrinking as she ran into tents and temporary stalls that and be illegally scattered by the side of the road.

    The ground grew rough with rubble as she came closer to the wall. She passed through a sad, sorry excuse for shopping center that went by the name of ¡®Dirtflea market¡¯. She was surprised to see that it appeared to be a bustling hub of activity, despite virtually everything else in the area being destroyed. It seemed that many of the residents around Dirtflea had turned to looting and were hawking their goods on the black market.

    Beyond the market place broken stones from the wall and various buildings provided treacherous footing. There was no way her horse would be able to navigate through the debris, so she whistled at a pair of teenage boys who looked like they were trying to steal from an apple cart, one was too big and clumsy for the task though, and the other was failing at providing a suitable distraction. Livy knew that if she could spot the young thieves¡¯ ploy the shopkeeper most definitely would. The young man was probably a recent orphan, trying to figure out life on the streets. Livy reached into her pocket and fingered a silver coin.

    The boy trying to swipe an apple glanced at Livy when she whistled and waved for him to approach. He would have ignored the girl on the horse, only a few years older than him, if not for the expensive clothes and the glimpse of a warwand on her belt. Mage¡¯s weren¡¯t to be disobeyed. The boy approached and Livy tossed him a single silver coin, far more than a stable hand would have gotten.

    ¡°Watch my horse for me.¡± Livy instructed.

    The boy¡¯s friend started walking over to see why his friend had abandoned their attempt at thievery. Livy met his eyes.

    ¡°There should be an building around here. A friend of mine used to live in it. Help me find it and you¡¯ll have the same reward your friend here is getting for watching my horse. I¡¯m told it¡¯s an apartment right next to a tavern named The Bloated Orc.¡± Livy frowned at the idea of a tavern with such an unappetizing name.Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

    The boy nodded though and lead the way for Livy. They had to hop from one upturned stone to another to make their way through the rough terrain. Many of the large crocks were precariously stacked and would tilt when they stepped on them, but Livy¡¯s senses as an earth mage gave her a natural talent at avoiding unwanted landslides.

    When the boy finally lead her to the building she was told Mar lived, she found nothing but a crumpled ruin. It had been too close to the walls and was hit even worse than the construction site her parents had been at. Dirty street urchins clothed in rags darted around the building, looking anything to loot. Anybody who had been inside that building when it fell was dead.

    Livy stared at the ruin for a long while. She could sense rats with her earth magic, burrowing tunnels through the broken stones to nibble at the food and corpses buried underneath. She turned to the young thief and passed him a silver coin. ¡°Thank you. I¡¯ve seen what I wanted to see.¡± The boy clutched the silver denari in his hands and scurried off.

    First her parents, and now Mar too. This warlock was going to pay.

    Livy headed back to the market, looking for her horse and the boy she¡¯d paid to watch it. Neither of them where where she left them, and she had to look around the market. Being in this place gave her jitters, and she¡¯d heard stories about other mages being attacked while wandering alone in the city. Her hand strayed to the war wand at her belt.

    It wasn¡¯t there. The street urchin must have turned around and sold it while she was off with his friend. Livy grumbled. Just bit of ill luck to add to her growing list. There was so much evil in the world. She¡¯d been such a spoiled little brat before. How had she never seen it before? She shook her head. It was just as inquisitor Morvin had been telling her.

    She found another horse quickly enough, though this one was an old mare that looked half dead. Still, it was better than walking, and it was only fifty copper denarii. She jingled her purse softly. She¡¯d have to remember to be more careful about spending her money. Her parents weren¡¯t around to give her an allowance any more. Either that or she¡¯d have to start working on earning some. There were plenty of jobs to be had for an earth mage in a city that had been half reduced to rubble. Somehow though, Livy just couldn¡¯t see herself sticking around.

    Orlem seemed so much bigger now that she couldn¡¯t zip about between her favorite locations by magical means, even though part of it had been reduced to ash and rubble. It also seemed less friendly. And so unfamiliar. The sights and sounds she knew were gone.

    Eventually her panting horse took her to Orlem¡¯s school of magic. For the first time in a century classes were out of session. Every skilled mage was needed for the recovery of the city, and that included students and teachers.

    She wandered briefly around the campus buildings. With the destruction of the Realmstone much of the campus was destroyed. Being a school for magic, spellcraft held virtually everything together. Even the things that weren¡¯t directly powered by the Realmstone had unraveled due to the sudden dissipation of the mana-rich environment maintained by the Realmstone.

    She stopped by the library, which looked mostly intact on the outside. It had been established long before the Realmstone was powerful enough to be used for every menial task mages could set upon it, so even without reinforcing magic the stone of it¡¯s walls was strong enough to hold on it¡¯s own. Except for the levitation pads and the illumination spells, no standing magic was allowed in the library, for fear of damaging the delicate books.

    Unfortunately for the librarians, without the levitation paths the majority of the books were out of reach. The librarians were scratching their heads trying to get the ladders back in functional shape, but with every carpenter or wood mage in the city fully task-saturated, they were left to solve the problem on their own. Mar would have been able to do it. He was always clever with his hands. She supposed she¡¯d have to tell the librarians that he was almost certainly dead. Knowing Mr. Thoswallow, he¡¯d probably be pleased.

    Livy didn¡¯t come here for the books, and she didn¡¯t really care to speak with the the librarians either. With the library being one of the few fully intact public buildings on campus, many departments had set up their own offices within it¡¯s confines.

    Eventually she found the person she was looking for. He was a lean middle-aged man with a small mustache and a completely shaven head, though he covered it with the characteristic pointy black hat the inquisitors always wore.

    Oddly enough, he was seated at the very alcove she and Mar used to meet at for their study sessions. The door had been left ajar, though Livy still felt it rude to walk in unannounced. She rapped on the wooden door frame.

    ¡°Come in, Livy my dear.¡± Said a surprisingly soothing voice.

    ¡°Hello Inquisitor Morvin. I wanted to thank you for figuring out where my friend used to live. I stopped by on the way here.¡±

    The inquisitor smiled. ¡°It wasn¡¯t a difficult matter. We inquisitors specialize in asking the right people the right questions. Inquiry is in our name after all. But by the look on your face it seems you didn¡¯t like what you found.¡±

    Livy shook her head. ¡°The building complex was right in the shadow of the walls. There wasn¡¯t much left of it when I found it.¡± She¡¯d always thought inquisitors were these scary, black robed mages that would drag you away in the middle of the night, but inquisitor Morvin was both friendly and incredibly easy to talk to.

    Inquisitor Morvin shook his head sadly. ¡°I was afraid of that, after hearing the location. The senate is primarily concerned with surveying the damage to the inner city, repairing the shops and residences for mages to make the city livable for our kind. They forget that with our limited magic we will have need of manual labor once again. They would do well to win over the common folk in the outer city whose homes have been reduced to slums.¡±

    ¡°What about the warlock who caused this whole mess? Shouldn¡¯t you be hunting him down?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m afraid that isn¡¯t our job anymore, my dear.¡± Inquisitor Morvin shook his head sadly.

    Livy looked at him in confusion. ¡°But¡­ aren¡¯t you an inquisitor? Isn¡¯t hunting warlocks one of your specialties?¡±

    ¡°Indeed I am young miss. Or at least I was. Now I¡¯m afraid I don¡¯t know what I am.¡±

    Livy looked at him quizzically. ¡°The inquisitors have protected Orlem for over three thousand years.¡±

    Recruiter Morvin shook his head. ¡°I¡¯m afraid that time has ended. If you had asked the question this morning, perhaps I could have arranged an apprenticeship, and a full membership once you finished at the school. Unfortunately the Order of Inquisition for the Purity of Magic and the Protection and Prosperity of Orlem was officially dissolved this morning by unanimous vote of the senate. Right before they elected Lord Verandon as Magus Supreme, granting him dictatorial powers to deal with the present crisis.¡±

    ¡°I understand appointing a single leader, but why disband the inquisitors?¡±

    Recruiter Morvin shrugged. ¡°Somebody had to take the blame for this disaster. And so we no longer officially exist. Those do-nothing politicians. It¡¯s not like we didn¡¯t tell them multiple times that the Realmstone was far too vulnerable during the Trials. But they never listened. Tradition they said. And now when things go wrong they blame everything on us.¡±

    ¡°What about pursuing the actual perpetrator? The demon who caused this whole mess?¡± Livy asked nervously.

    Recruiter Morvin waved a hand. ¡°That¡¯s being given to a new task force, specifically designed for the mission. They¡¯re calling themselves the Bloodseekers. Both overly pretentious and overly morbid if you ask me. Once that¡¯s done, I have little doubt they¡¯re meant to fill our old role once we¡¯re gone. Unlike us, this one is under the direct oversight of the senate. Those politicians have been wanting to cut us out of court for years, and this was their chance to finally do it.¡±

    He leaned forward and whispered. ¡°Now that I¡¯m no longer a public employee, I can speak my mind, and truth be told, I¡¯m not sure how long Orlem is going to last like this. Our supposed allies are lining up to devourer everything we have left. Volfsdown, once our obedient lapdog, has decided it¡¯s fangs have grown long enough to challenge us for leadership of the pack. The other cities are certain to follow their example. And if infighting amongst the League doesn¡¯t do us in, then the Imperial invasion that is on the way surely will. I¡¯d suggest packing your bags, and leaving with your family to some place in the countryside.¡±

    Livy¡¯s melancholy returned. ¡°I don¡¯t have any family. Not anymore.¡±

    Recruiter Morvin gave her a sad look and took a long sip from his mug. ¡°I figured as much Not many would seek the company of an inquisitor unless they had no other choice. Let me just say that I can sympathies with you. Most of us inquisitors do. It hurts now, but new names and faces will fill the void, given time.¡±

    ¡°Where are you going?¡± Livy asked the ex-inquisitor.

    Recruiter Morvin shrugged. ¡°As I suggested. I¡¯m running off to a small hut in the countryside with my family, now that the inquisitors are officially retired. To live out my days in humble harmony with nature and whatnot.¡±

    ¡°Family?¡± Livy asked. ¡°But I thought you just said¡­¡±

    ¡°Oh no, I¡¯m most definitely an orphan. My fellow inquisitors are my brothers and sisters.¡±

    ¡°Would¡­ do you think you¡¯ll have room for one more orphan?¡± Livy asked.

    Recruiter gave her a long and steady look. ¡°You¡¯re serious about becoming an inqui-¡± Recruiter Morvin stopped himself ¡°Of becoming one of us?¡±

    Livy nodded.

    Recruiter Morvin leaned back in his chair. ¡°It¡¯s possible that my brothers and sisters don¡¯t entirely intend on retiring to a cottage by the sea shore. It¡¯s possible that many of us still believe in our cause, even though our patron city no longer believes in us.¡±

    Livy nodded again. ¡°I¡¯m ready to leave.¡±

    Recruiter Morvin smiled. ¡°Good. Sleep well tonight, and replenish your mana pool. You start combat training first thing in the morning.¡±

 Clear Skies and Shining Seas 1

    ¡°Need another hand over here!¡± a heavily tanned sailor shouted over the stiff afternoon breeze.

    Mar jogged across the creaking wood of the dock. When he reached the massive iron cleat anchored into the wooden boards adjacent to the ship he held his hands up in the air, gesturing towards the sailor to toss him the rope. The boat itself was slightly undersized for this docking station, but none of the other stations could handle the length of the hull.

    The seaman tossed down the bundle of rope, which Mar caught with only a bit of fumbling. He had to take a moment to straighten out the tangled bundle before wrapping it around the cleat. He mentally rehearsed the directions for tying a proper cleat hitch. Mar had a good mind for learning, but the seemingly endless list of knots that sailors used was difficult to sort through even for him. Around the cleat, up and over one end, make a loop, twist and pull it tight. The knot looked right to him and so he moved on to the next one.

    Mar wiped the sweat off his brow, pouring down his face from the hot afternoon sun. Yvast had surprised him with how much manual labor there was to be done. Back in Orlem golems and magic handled most of the brute labor, and there were only a few tasks that required living eyes and hands. Here, everything was done the old fashioned way. Mar knew in his head that Orlem was more the exception than the rule, but it served as a constant reminder that he was no longer in one of the most magical cities in the world.

    He glanced at the boat in front of him and was finally given a chance to examine it. Even an amature dockhand like him could appreciate the beauty of this vessel before him.

    It was as long as a barge, which is what this docking station was meant for, though it was only half the width. It wasn¡¯t as bulky as the other ships at harbor, though what it lacked in mass it made up for in elegance. It was streamlined, unlike most of the merchant vessels here that were designed with capacity in mind. Clearly this one was built for speed. It had three masts, with the biggest in front and two smaller ones behind, though oddly they seemed to be triangular instead of square.

    The boat was painted jet black, with only a set of crimson letters that denoted its name to break up the monochrome appearance. The words spelled out a name. The Winking Maiden.

    Mar had little doubt that this ship could outrun any other vessel in the harbor, even floating as low in the water as it was. Orlem¡¯s water skimmers would probably still beat it, but those ships were powered by magic. This was nothing more than an elaborate construction of wood and cloth. He¡¯d heard some of the dockhands call it a caravel. The dockmaster and the ship¡¯s captain were arguing about the price of docking for the ship. The captain was a stout looking woman with an eye patch and arms beefy enough to put most men to shame. She likely had some dwarvish blood in her. He noticed her canines seemed to jut out slightly from her lips, and under the right light her tanned skin had a slightly greenish hue. Perhaps she had a bit of orc in her as well?

    Eventually the ship captain and the dock master came to an agreement and the ship¡¯s crew disembarked with a cheer. As the poured down the gangplank Mar noticed the unusual mix of sailors. Most ships that came to port here were crewed entirely by humans, often all humans of the same nationality. They¡¯d had an gnomish and dwarven ship dock once as well, though Mar hadn¡¯t gotten to help pull those two in. He did get to help dock an elvish vessel, though they only stopped for a an hour to resupply before heading back out to sea and didn¡¯t bother disembarking.

    The Winking Maiden however featured an extremely wide assortment of individuals among their crew. While human-ish individuals still dominated the crew, nearly all of them had a visible tell-tale feature of partial inhuman heritage. One of them had small vestigial horns, another had a purplish hue to his skin. That caught Mar¡¯s attention, at least until the hulking gray figure with stone gray skin stepped off the boat. The dock swayed slightly under the increased weight. Mar blinked in amazement. That man must of been part giant or mountain troll.

    ¡°Hey new boy! Stop your gawking and start unloading the ship! We have a schedule to keep!¡± Mar glanced at the person yelling at him. The dockmaster had noticed his staring.

    ¡°Sincerest apologies dockmaster!¡± Mar yelled in reply.

    The dockmaster rolled his eyes. ¡°Keep your fancy words and get to work lad.¡±

    Mar followed the other dockhands up the gangplank where they were lead down into a store room under the watchful eyes of the captain. Well, watchful eye.

    In the dark confines of the storeroom he nearly ran headfirst into a hulking green skin figure.

    ¡°Excuse me.¡± Mar muttered, expecting to be at eye level. The flickering of the torchlight however revealed a mass of green pectoral muscles, rather than a human face. Mar gulped as he looked up at the face of a full-blooded orc. If it wasn¡¯t for that half-giant Mar had just seen walk by this orc would have been the biggest humanoid he¡¯d ever seen. Certainly the most muscular.

    ¡°Excuse me, good sir.¡± Mar repeated again, more politely.

    The orc chortled a deep rumbling laugh. ¡°I ain¡¯t a sir. Especially not a good sir.¡± The orc then hefted a large square chest without apparent effort. He shoved the chest into Mar¡¯s open hands.

    Mar wasn¡¯t prepared for the weight the wooden container. When it was dropped in his hands he doubled over and the chest clattered to the deck.

    The orc glanced around, looking for something. ¡°My fault. I forget you humans are sometimes just as wea-¡± The orc coughed and cut himself off ¡°Weak human arms. I carry.¡±

    That was more than a little strange. The orc had been speaking flawless Remian for a moment there, before cutting himself off and reverting to a terse, grunting voice. Combined with the orcs physical stature it only served to reinforce the myth that orcs were nothing but dumb muscle.

    Mar accepted the massive orc¡¯s offer and stepped away from the container. He¡¯d grown stronger over the last two weeks, but not nearly strong enough to carry whatever was in that chest. A lifetime in the library hadn¡¯t exactly built muscles, but hauling in boats and unloading them was a physically demanding job. Still, Mar expected he could lift boxes for a lifetime and never become half as muscular as the orc who stood beside him.

    Even ignoring the orcs imposing physique and stature, he was clearly an intimidating presence. Green skin lined with hundreds of scars big and small covered his body, interspersed with small bits of hardened leather and metal protecting the mostly likely places to get injured such as the stomach and shoulders. A massive steel axe hung from a bandolier casually tossed diagonally over the orc¡¯s torso. Sharp canines jutted out of his mouth from his lower jab, and his coarse black hair on the back of his head was tied back with a string.

    Mar had met plenty of eighth-orcs and quarter-orcs, even a half-orc once, but he¡¯d never had the opportunity to meet a real full-blooded orc. His curiosity began to get the better of him as he walked over and picked up two empty jugs that had once been filled with alcohol.

    ¡°What¡¯s in that chest?¡± Mar asked as they walked.

    ¡°Bars of lead.¡±

    ¡°Bars of lead?¡± Mar repeated. ¡°Well, that would certainly explain the weight. Which merchant company do you sail for?¡±

    The orc snorted. ¡°The Winking Maiden ain¡¯t a merchant ship.¡±

    Mar glanced at the orc curiously. ¡°A transport company?

    The orc snorted again.

    Mar glanced back up at the sleek design of the black ship, streamline and as dark as midnight. On the ocean it would be fast enough to catch almost any non-magical vessel, and it¡¯s dark paint would make it very difficult to see at night.

    ¡°You¡¯re¡­ privateers?¡±

    The corner of the orc¡¯s mouth twitched upward in a surprisingly human smirk.

    In most circles, privateers were virtually indistinguishable from pirates, except that some merchant prince or noble lord had given them a writ that said they could loot and pillage as they pleased. A few such ships had pulled into harbor at Yvast. Local law enforcement had to look the other way. Trying to put a stop to piracy would take far more resources than the port town possessed. It wasn¡¯t as bad as it was though before the League of Free Cities had staked its claim over the small port town. Back when the town first got it¡¯s name nearly every ship in harbor would have been a pirate vessel.

    Eventually Mar had to ask the question he¡¯d been so curious about. ¡°What brought you here, so far from home?¡±Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.

    ¡°A boat.¡±

    Mar began to wonder if he was being a nuisance. The orc had seemed talkative enough when they bumped into each other, but now he was being oddly terse. The practical survivalist in him told Mar that it would be a bad idea to annoy the hulking orc who outweighed him five times over, but the eager scholar in him was too curious to let this opportunity pass up.

    ¡°I mean to ask, where¡¯s home? I¡¯ve read a lot of books about your people, and it seems like you appear in small groups just about everywhere, mostly in small tribes or villages. But nobody has ever seen an orc city or permanent settlement or any sort of national structure beyond a horde.¡±

    The orc grunted. ¡°You won¡¯t find any orc cities or orc kingdoms. That¡¯s because there aren¡¯t any.¡±

    Mar looked at him ¡°But you form groups and cooperate with others. You have language and trade, just like humans. Why¡ª.¡±

    ¡°Elves.¡± The orc stated tersely. There was a mountain of meaning behind that one word.

    ¡°Sorry.¡± Mar apologized. ¡°I didn¡¯t mean to pry.¡±

    The orc let out a deep breath. ¡°The sorrow is mine. I¡¯m not accustomed to a human stranger being so open to converse with me. Most of your kind tend to shy away when I approach.¡±

    That came as a surprise. It seemed the orc was willing to speak after all.

    ¡°Well if you want company I know a tavern not far from here. Perhaps I could buy you a drink and ask you a few questions? I¡¯ve been trying to get a spot aboard a ship myself you see, but I¡¯ve never sailed before. I could use some pointers.¡±

    The orc considered the proposition, before nodding his head. ¡°Very well, young human. I can probably teach you a thing or two. In exchange, you can tell me what you know of my people from these books you¡¯ve read.¡±

    Mar nodded. ¡°I¡¯ve never made a study of your kin, but used to work in a library.¡±

    ¡°I have always wondered what secrets long dead humans might have recorded on the history of my people. Many times I¡¯ve wanted to get inside one of your libraries but never have I managed it. Not that the books would do me any good in my hands. Deciphering scratches on paper is beyond me.¡±

    ¡°I would think our accounts would be a poor substitute for your own histories.¡±

    The orc shook his head. ¡°A tribe rarely lasts long enough to record more than their own deeds.¡±

    ¡°My name is Mar, by the way.¡±

    ¡°I was named Krellak by the eldest mother of my birth tribe. I have gone by others, but that name will do.¡±

    Mar and Krellak unloaded various boxes and containers over the course of the next hour. The captain had retired to her cabin by the time they were halfway through leaving just Mar, Krellak, and a few other dockhands on deck. Eventually they unloaded everything and the captain went out to meet various merchants lined up along the shore, eager to lap up the pirated goods at low prices. Mar stopped by the dockmaster¡¯s office to collect the day¡¯s pay, and then he lead Krellak to the tavern he had mentioned.

    ¡°I¡¯ve been staying in a room upstairs for the past two weeks. I had really hoped to be out of this town by now, but no ship will take me.¡± Mar said as the entered the establishment.

    The odd looking pair received a few glances, but one look from the massive green-skinned orc and the massive double-headed axe he was carrying made onlookers go right back to staring at their beverages. Krellak lead the way to a secluded table as far from the other patrons as possible.

    Krellak glanced Mar up and down. ¡°You¡¯re a bit scrawny, and too pale to have spent more than a few weeks working outside. But you¡¯re human, and that counts a lot around these parts. You must not be asking in the right places if you can¡¯t find a spot on a ship.¡±

    Mar shook his head. ¡°Well, the thing is, I¡¯ve found plenty of places that will take me aboard. It¡¯s just I¡¯ve got a¡­ friend with me. I can¡¯t leave him alone here, but none of the ships will allow me to take a goblin aboard with them.¡±

    Krellak¡¯s eyebrows rose. ¡°A goblin you say? Hmm. Yes, that would make things more difficult.¡±

    A waitress came by with their drinks. Mar had ordered a watered down ale. He¡¯d gotten used to the flavor over the past two weeks. He didn¡¯t trust the water here, so he was forced to drink from the tavern. If he¡¯d known he was going to be staying around for two weeks he would have invested in a kettle to boil water, but there was little sense in buying things when he had to be ready to leave at the slightest opportunity.

    Krellak on the other hand had ordered something inky black in color. The scent of the drink wafted through the air and reached Mar¡¯s nose. It smelt like acid. He could only imagine how it tasted. Despite the foul smell Krellak lifted the mug to his lips with a smile and took a deep sip.

    ¡°Ahhh. That¡¯s the stuff. Them damn dwarves certainly know how to make a good brew. I was afraid they wouldn¡¯t have anything strong enough for me.¡±

    ¡°There have been a few dwarven vessels in port. Mostly trading in tools and iron.¡±

    Krellak nodded. ¡°They prefer land trade routes, but they¡¯ll sail if the price is high enough. Volfsdown to the east is buying weapons. Don¡¯t know why.¡±

    Mar only nodded silently.

    ¡°But about finding a ship I could put a good word in with my captain..¡±

    Mar nodded. ¡°Thanks, though I¡¯m not really sure the privateers¡¯s life''s for me. I¡¯m really just looking to travel for a bit and find a good place to settle down.¡±

    ¡°Mhm. Once a pirate, always a pirate. I have a friend aboard who knows a smuggler in town. Smugglers and pirates aren¡¯t picky about their crew.¡±

    ¡°Yes¡­ That sounds like a good deal. If you could have your friend put in a good word for me that would be wonderful.¡±

    Mar and Krellak chatted for a while more while the sun dipped lower in the sky. By the time a new wave of people were beginning to wander into the tavern for an early dinner both Mar had drunk three tankards, and Krellak had drunk six. If that inky black drink was as potent as it smelled Mar was certain that it would have put even chronic alcoholics on the ground by now, but Krellak didn¡¯t even seem tipsy. On the other hand Mar was beginning to feel the effects of the ale, even watered down as it was. He¡¯d never really been drunk before, since he¡¯d never had the money or the reason for it, but Mar had heard enough embarrassing horror stories from young mages trying hard liquor for the first time and waking up naked and hanging from a tree branch without a clue how they got there.

    ¡°Thank you Krellak. I¡¯d love to ask you more about your homeland but I¡¯m afraid at the rate we¡¯re going I wouldn¡¯t remember the answers tomorrow.¡±

    ¡°Ha! If only I could get drunk on water. My pockets would be brimming with coin.¡±

    Mar held out his hand. Krellak shook it, making Mar¡¯s hand look like a child''s next to the orcs massive bulk.

    ¡°Perhaps we¡¯ll meet again, Krellak.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯d best hope we meet in port, and not on the high seas.¡± Krellak.

    Mar collected the half loaf of day old bread and cheese he and Krellak had been eating from and headed upstairs to the room he¡¯d been renting. When he opened the door Grob was sitting on the bed, inspecting the contents of the burlap sack he¡¯d brought from Orlem.

    ¡°I brought some food for you, Grob. Save some of the cheese. We might need it if depending on where we journey next.¡± Mar tossed the loaf of bread and cheese the goblin¡¯s way.

    Grob dropped the sack to catch the cheese. Mar picked it up while the goblin ate and peered through it. He¡¯d had high hopes for Grob¡¯s bag of treasures when they¡¯d first left Orlem, but he should have known the things a goblin thought valuable were different from what a human might find important.

    Most of the bag was filled with paper making supplies. Thin wire mesh and a shredder to grind down plant fibers into pulp. There were more than a few shiny things as well, mostly spent mana crystals or cheap bits of glass dyed to look like gemstones. Mar had talked to a few shopkeepers and had already sold anything that was worth selling.

    He passed by the portal to Orlem every day, each time making sure it was inactive. Nobody had come through except for him and that portal mage for the last two weeks, and the locals were beginning to suspect that something big was going down in Orlem. The portal mage had skipped town the day they arrived, likely running to the nearest major city to pawn that shard of the Realmstone Mar had given him. Mar would dearly like to be out of Yvast by the time that shard of crystal changed hands. He¡¯d either need to earn enough coin to pay for passage or sign on with a ship¡¯s crew. He had hoped that Jinn would wake up, and be able to magic away their current dilemma, but the stone had been silent for the past two weeks.

    ¡°Hey¡­ what¡¯s this?¡± Mar muttered as he rummaged through the bag. There were things in it that weren¡¯t there before. Mar pulled out a silver-lined jewelry box, complete with a handful of rings and earrings. There was also a sliver bracelet and intricately carved ivory brooch.

    Grob looked up from his meal. ¡°Shinys.¡± The goblin shrugged.

    ¡°Yes, but where did you get them?¡±

    The goblin shrugged. ¡°Here. There. Humans leave them by open windows, so Grob take. Always the shinies that look valuable. You say before that I take the wrong shinies, so this time Grob try to take the right ones.¡±

    ¡°You stole them?¡± Mar accused.

    ¡°No, no, no. Grob takes them when the humans leave them lying around.¡±

    Mar looked over the new contents of the bag again. ¡°Well¡­ we do need coin¡­ But still, what you did was very risky. We can¡¯t afford to get in trouble with the local constable. From now on you¡¯re not to leave this room without my say so.¡±

    Grob hung his head sheepishly. Mar realized the goblin was only trying to help.

    ¡°Look Grob, these things are valuable, and we¡¯re going to need money. I¡¯m not going to ask you to put them back. It¡¯s just they¡¯re going to be useless for a while, since we can¡¯t exactly sell them in the same town they were stolen from.¡±

    With that lesson learned Mar and Grob went to sleep early. Grob was snoring loudly within the hour, but Mar was still rolling around restlessly as his thoughts and worries kept him awake. He fumbled around in the light of the single candle they¡¯d kept burning and Mar eventually found the Grob¡¯s bag. He reached inside and found the silver-lined jewelry box. It was small and square, like the mana concentrators Master Warrik had.

    Ever since the Trials, ever since that vision he¡¯d had in the spirit realm, he¡¯d started remembering things about magic that he¡¯d forgotten. He was certain of it now, at one point he had been able to cast magic, though it had been unlike any he¡¯d ever read about.

    Mar took the silver-lined box in his hands and closed his eyes in concentration. Weaving magic took much more concentration than simply casting a spell, but casting a spell relied on preparation that required full knowledge of what you were doing.

    Mar took deep breaths, calming himself as he tried to access his mana pool. Using his mind he tried to pluck out a few strands, but they were too slippery and they fell from his grasp. He tried again, but failed again.

    Mar tossed the jewelry box away in disgust and rolled back into bed, trying to go to sleep.

 Clear Skies and Shining Seas 2

    Mar awoke with a groan as his body rolled over one last time to try and find a comfortable position on the pile of straw that passed for a bed in this inn. There was something hard under his head, and reaching around for it he realized it was a stone. Not just any stone, but the stone. The warlock¡¯s totem. Jinn.

    Or at least it had been. There hadn¡¯t been a peep from the demonic spirit for the last two weeks, and Mar had taken to just leaving it in his room. It was a bit large now and Mar didn¡¯t entirely trust the stitching of his pockets to hold. And despite what his conscience was telling him he couldn¡¯t quite bring himself to throw the stone away.

    Mar tried to settle himself back to sleep despite the sunbeams streaming onto his face from the hole in the wall that passed for a window, but he suddenly remembered his conversation with the orc Krellak the previous night.

    That¡¯s right, he had to get to that smugglers ship and talk to the captain. This was his opportunity to get somewhere a bit further away from Orlem. Then he could begin his new life. Maybe he¡¯d start off doing scribe¡¯s work to save up some money, or maybe he¡¯d go right to an adventuring guild and sign on with them. A whole wide world was just a boat¡¯s ride away.

    There was much Mar wanted to ask the stone, though he was hesitant, remembering how it had used him during the trials. He¡¯d reviewed everything he knew about demons though and he knew that while they could twist the truth in remarkable ways once they swore on their name they would be forced to keep their word. Mar had been preparing what he¡¯d say to the demon if it ever woke.

    Mar quickly re-dressed himself in the same rapidly deteriorating clothes he¡¯d looted off that guardsman back at the royal palace in Orlem. Luckily the guard hadn¡¯t been wearing a uniform underneath his clothes, meaning Mar¡¯s dress was unremarkable enough to not draw attention. Unfortunately, that also meant it consisted of light underclothes meant to be worn underneath armor, and was a bit flimsy.

    Having put on his clothes, Mar exited the inn and started walking the now familiar route to the docks. He counted berths until he came to the ship the orc described. Altogether it was a very average ship, with a wide hull and plenty of space. A bit smaller than most of the merchant cargo ships that pulled into port but it was the same general shape. It was completely unlike The Winking Maiden in the fact that there was nothing at all impressive about it. If not for the name of the boat, Hidden Jewel, written on some sailcloth and thrown over the side he might never have found it.

    Odd that the captain had decided to write the ship''s name on a bolt of cloth rather than on the hull itself. It made Mar suspect that the vessel changed names often.

    He approached the ship, as expected, a crew member was on deck keeping watch.

    ¡°What¡¯s your business aboard the Shimmering Gem?¡± The bulky bandana-wearing sailor demanded.

    ¡°Err. This is the Hidden Jewel, right?¡± Mar asked in confusion, peering back at the cloth that had the ship''s name.

    The sailor glanced at Mar and the cloth. ¡°How they hell should I know? Name changes every time we¡¯re in port.¡±

    Mar shrugged. ¡°I¡¯m just reading what the cloth says.¡±

    The man upturned his nose. ¡°Reading. If you ask me it¡¯s a skill for tricksters and con artists. Honest men speak face to face, and don¡¯t need to hide behind scribbles. Are you a trickster or con artist?¡±

    ¡°Neither, I¡¯m a dockhand who wants to be a sailor.¡±

    The sailor snorted. ¡°You don¡¯t look like you¡¯ve been a dockhand for very long, and you certainly don¡¯t look like a sailor.¡±

    ¡°I can learn.¡±

    The sailor seemed to doubt Mar¡¯s conviction. ¡°I¡¯d darn well hope so. I could pick any boy urchin off the street and have them learning numbers and navigation and whatnot and all manner of scholarly nonsense. It¡¯s the doin¡¯ that¡¯s the hard part.¡±

    ¡°Well, I¡¯m no navigator but I can name many of the stars. And I¡¯m quite good with numbers.¡±

    That caught the sailors attention. ¡°Know yer numbers, you say? Could be useful, but divvying up pay and taking inventory requires a darn sight more knowledge of numbers than counting apples in a barrel.¡±

    Math was something Mar could tackle with confidence. ¡°Give me a handful of measurements and I can calculate the variance in pressure on this ships hull at different depths as this ship encounters larger and smaller waves. Given solid numbers to work off of I could figure out the ideal¡ª¡±

    The sailor cut Mar off. ¡°All that sounds like gibberish to me. Answer me this. I buy a load of cargo at one port for a hundred golden krowns, and I sell it three months later at another port for two hundred golden krowns. Docking fees, supplies, and ship repairs come up to thirty golden krowns. If I have to split the take fifty ways how much does a tenth-share cabin boy get?¡±

    ¡°Fourteen silver krowns.¡± Mar replied instantly. He wasn¡¯t as familiar with the dwarven currency as he was with denari, which were more common in Orlem, but he¡¯d come across them often enough that he¡¯d learned the system. The dwarves placed great value on money, so it was little wonder that their currency was very stable and easy for outsiders to use. The dwarven banks had been steadily increasing their influence over the last few centuries, and with them they brought their money.

    ¡°Huh.¡± The sailor remarked. ¡°Don¡¯t let the cabin boy hear that! I¡¯ve only been payin¡¯ him twelve!¡±

    ¡°Oh, so you¡¯re the captain then?¡± Mar asked.

    ¡°First mate.¡± The sailor replied with a wave. ¡°Been ever since me and old Cap¡¯n Rolli first set out twenty years ago. But yes, I¡¯m in charge of hiring new crew for this next run.¡±

    ¡°So, do you think there¡¯s a place for me, and one other on this ship?¡±

    The sailor nodded slowly. ¡°If nothing else you can check over my numbers. That¡¯s worth a tenth of share right there. If you can actually do some sailing, even better. As fer yer goblin friend, I¡¯m sure we can find a use for ¡®im.¡± Noticing the look on Mar¡¯s face, the sailor continued. ¡°That¡¯s right. That big orc fellow stopped by a short time ago and had a word with the captain. Rolli told me that somebody by your description might be hopping aboard, and that I otta¡¯ keep an open mind.¡±

    So it seemed Krellak had spoken with the smuggler captain himself. That was interesting.

    In the end, first mate Jimson signed Mar onto the ship''s crew, even after Mar mentioned and mentioned Grob was a goblin. And so Mar headed back to his room at the in with pep in his step. Things were looking up. As a sailor he¡¯d go all over the world and see dozens of cities. And when he found one he liked he¡¯d leave the sailor''s life behind with a bit of coin in his pocket to show for it.

    He glanced at the portal building out of habit. Not a peep still. His pace slowed as he was reminded of Orlem, and the destruction he had allowed to come to pass. He mentally backed away from the memories and shoved them into a distant corner of his mind. He¡¯d have time to feel guilty someday, just not now. As well as time to ponder whatever it was that Darrik had been babbling about. Since that moment during the Trials Mar had had horrible dreams of being thrown in a pyre and burned.Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

    Mar purchased a bit of stale bread from the inn keeper and brought it up with him to his room, taking bites out of it along the way. Grob was awake, and Mar broke off a third of the loaf for the goblin. He nearly tripped over the silver lined jewelry box that was lying on the floor. Something was strange though, there seemed to be a massive dent in it.

    Mar tried to offer the bread to Grob but the goblin was ignoring him, staring intently at the dented jewelry box while clutching a makeshift wooden club.

    ¡°Grob? You want the bread or not?¡± Mar stooped down and picked up the heavily damaged jewelry box. ¡°Now why¡¯d you go and do that? It was fairly well crafted, and likely would have sold for a decent amount as it was. Now the silver is the only valuable part about it.¡±

    Just as Mar was about to hold it up closer to his face, Grob slapped it out of his hands, threw it on the floor, and hit it with his club. ¡°Don¡¯t touch. Grob saw it twitch. It¡¯s evil. Talking rock says so.¡±

    ¡°Evil? Grob it¡¯s a box. And what do you mean the¡­ talking¡­ rock¡­¡± Mar dashed over to his bed, where the Warlock¡¯s totem was laying out in the open.

    <Hello Mar.> the stone announced. Mar could tell it wasn¡¯t talking aloud, but he heard the words in his mind loud and clear. It resembled communication in the spirit realm.

    ¡°Hello, Jinn.¡± Mar said hesitantly, using his nickname for the demonic spirit in the stone.

    <I see you are still alive. This is good news. I have been able to glean little information from your pet goblin here. Tell me where we are and how long I have been inactive this time.>

    Mar blinked at the authoritative tone. It was spoken so casually he might have abided the demand strictly out of habit from a lifetime of working under various stuffy supervisors at one job or another. But Mar had thought long and hard about what had happened in the spirit realm, and ways to prevent it from ever occurring again.

    ¡°Not happening Jinn. I¡¯m the one with a body, you¡¯re a lifeless hunk of rock. In fact¡­¡± Mar took a deep breath to steel his nerves.

    ¡°Stay here Grob.¡± Then Mar picked up the stone and began walking the familiar route to the edge of dockyard.

    <Mar, what is this?>

    But Mar was silent as thoughts of Orlem flooded his mind. Of the death and destruction he had rode through after the destruction of the Realmstone. Of how Jinn had taken control of his body and used him to destroy a city, an action that would cause pandemonium throughout the world, causing the deaths of hundreds of thousands. Millions, if the League of Free Cities was no longer able to repel the advances of the Empire.

    <You¡¯re not saying anything. I sense you tightening your grip around me, and the your heartbeat has quickened. You¡¯re angry.> Jinn analyzed.

    ¡°Yes I¡¯m angry. You imprisoned me in my own body!¡± He shouted in reply. Faces turned towards him at the sudden outburst. Mar thought he could sense a smirk coming from the stone.

    <I am speaking directly to your mind. Until you learn to do the same I recommend keeping your voice down.>

    Jinn answered the unasked question <I always knew how to communicate like this, but before, it was a less efficient use of mana than simply creating vibrations in the air. Now though, it seems the other has bound us together in ways even I don¡¯t fully understand.>

    ¡°You say that as if it¡¯s a good thing.¡± Mar snarled. He received more odd looks.

    <I know mortal memories are short, but I did just say you should whisper rather than shout. The last time I was conscious I recall that mortal society tended to frown upon the mentally unstable.>

    ¡°Unstable¡­ tell me, do you even care about what you did?¡± Mar demanded in a hushed whisper as he increased his walking pace, he was more than a bit annoyed at Jinn¡¯s condescending tone.

    <Well, I would like to feel clever, but rebuilding my damaged circuitry by cannibalizing that dungeon core was entirely the other¡¯s idea. In truth, I was asleep for most the repairs, as the intricate spell work required was beyond even my abilities.>

    ¡°By destroying the Realmstone you condemned an entire city to destruction. Thousands of innocents will die. Perhaps millions if this results in an invasion from the Empire.¡±

    <Yes, it¡¯s certainly a good thing you got us out of there. I imagine that entire region is going to be chaos for quite awhile.>

    Mar closed his eyes and let out a breath. ¡°I should have figured as much. I had my hopes, but if you¡¯re not a demon you¡¯re cold-hearted enough that you might as well be.¡± He had reached the dockyard. He picked the longest jetty and began walking to the end of it.

    <What are you doing, Mar?> Jinn asked.

    Mar didn¡¯t reply until the came to end of the jetty. He lifted the stone to eye level, holding it over the open water below him.

    <Mar, put me down.> The stone commanded, with just a hint of nervousness.

    ¡°Did you know there are sandstone quarries all over this area?¡± Mar asked casually. ¡°Apparently, this bay used to be much larger. Long before men walked this world this place was a swamp, filled with plants and fish and all manner of algae. The dockhands say that the tides come higher every year, so perhaps it will be a swamp again.¡±

    <I can give you wealth and power beyond your wildest dreams.>

    ¡°Over the years those fish and plants died. Their flesh rotted and their bones turned to stone. Bit by bit layer by layer by layer. Over time the pressure of the water and soil above turned the layers below into the solid rock that is quarried today.¡±

    <I can unlock your magic. I know you crave it. I saw your feeble attempt with that jewelry box. It was highly flawed in design, despite my corrections. Even so, it¡¯s plain to see you have a talent for it. With my teachings you could master your power over spirit, and become one of the greatest mages to ever live.>

    That gave Mar pause, and he remained silent for a moment. He took a breath and reminded himself the stone¡¯s words were honeyed lies. Even if it spoke the truth Mar knew it would betray him at the first opportunity.

    ¡°I imagine it would be cold and dark, encased in stone like that. And the waiting¡­ the world could be a very different place when you next see the light of day again. Perhaps the gods will walk among us as they did in the old days, or perhaps this world will have returned to broken specks of dust scattered about the aether.¡±

    <I know your game, mortal. I have seen that look in my fragmented memories. I¡¯ve met many a righteous do-gooder. Not everyone can be bought with coin, but every mortal has their price. Let me give back what was stolen from you.>

    ¡°You¡¯re a demon. You¡¯ve brought nothing but pain and misery. You¡¯ll only bring more of it. To me and others.¡±

    <With my knowledge by this this day''s end you could lay this town to waste and bend it¡¯s residents to your will. You need only ask.>

    ¡°Any bargain I struck with you would only lead to me becoming your puppet, as you did with me during the Trials.¡±

    <If that is your wish that I shall swear to never take control of your body again without your consent, spiritual or physical.>

    ¡°And before that you manipulated my mind with your tricks.¡±

    <Only to push you in the directions you needed to go. That guardsman would have killed you had I not gifted you with a temporary nack for the sword.>

    ¡°Yes, and I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll continue to push me in whatever direction you think is best.¡± They shared a long silence. Eventually Mar broke it. ¡°I should drop you in the sea. I¡¯d be doing the world a favor.¡±

    <I will agree to your terms. No mental manipulation, no taking physical control of your body.>

    ¡°That¡¯s not good enough for me. No casting spells at all without my explicit permission.¡±

    The demonic stone seemed hesitant. <Magic is the only means I have of interacting with the outside world.>

    ¡°Those are my terms, demon.¡±

    <Very well, I swear to only cast magic by your leave. In exchange you must provide me all the mana I require to sustain myself.>

    ¡°I¡¯ve heard it said that a demon cannot lie if they swear on their name.¡±

    The stone hesitated. <I am but a fragment of a greater spirit. Whatever name that creature bore is lost to me.>

    ¡°Swear on you name!¡± Mar insisted.

    <I have no name!> The stone snarled in reply.

    ¡°I¡¯ve heard enough of your lies. If you will not accept my terms then I might as well throw you into the waters to be encased in stone for years beyond counting.¡± Mar pulled back his arm and made to throw the stone as far out into the water as he could.

    <I, the spirit fragment now known as Jinn, swear to abide by the terms discussed!>

    Mar stopped his arm seconds before releasing his grip on the stone. Slowly he brought his hand back over the edge of the jetty.

    ¡°Then our bargain is struck. Tonight, you teach me magic.¡±

 Clear Skies and Shining Seas 3

    Mar finished up his last day as a dockhand in a daze. He was going to learn magic! Or at least that¡¯s what Jinn had promised him. When his shift finally ended Mar collected his final days pay from the dockmaster and left for the market.

    ¡°Can¡¯t I just use one of Grob¡¯s mana crystals?¡± Mar whispered quietly.

    <Those crystals are already attuned to a specific element of magic. You need a fresh, clean crystal to store an imprint on if you want to do as you did years ago. That mana amplifier was an ideal scenario for crafting a homunculus. If you want anything useful however you¡¯re going to have to be a bit more knowledgeable. Luckily you have a very knowledgeable tutor at hand, or rather, in your pocket.>

    Mar glanced at his pocket warily. ¡°You¡¯re forbidden from entering my mind. How did you know about that?¡±

    Jinn cackled. <Fear not, fleshling. That knowledge was already stolen from before we made our bargain.>

    ¡°But still. I only have so much coin on me, and I¡¯ll need every bit of it soon enough. Does it really have to be a gemstone?¡±

    The stone sighed. <It could be just a pretty glass bauble if you really want, but whatever you create with it will be half mad and not truly under your control.>

    In the end Mar settled for a bit of amber hardened into a dome-like shape about the size of his smallest fingernail. Normally it would have been quite expensive, but luckily The Winking Maiden had just brought in barrels of jewelry not fit for a noble lady but too expensive for a farm wife. As a result the gray bearded merchant in the rickety stall was willing to part with it cheaply.

    As he walked back to the privacy of his room at the inn he nearly dropped the piece of amber from his shaking hand. He passed by the innkeeper, forgetting his usual order of bread and cheese to eat. He sat down on the bed uneasily and plucked Jinn from his pocket.

    <The first step is to fully unlock your mana pool. It¡¯s sitting partially sealed, though the bindings have come a bit loose over the years.>

    ¡°So it¡¯s true then? Master Warrik and the others¡­ they knew I had the gift and they took it away from me??¡±

    <Quite right. Though I think it¡¯s safe to say you¡¯ve fully revenged yourself upon them, destroying their city and all. Now, I¡¯m going to need an active influx of mana from you in order to make this work, so close your eyes and meditate or whatever crutches modern mortal mages require. But first I¡¯ll need your permission to weave the magic.>

    Mar granted Jinn permission and took a deep breath to help him focus his thoughts. He closed his eyes and took deep breaths until he could concentrate on the mana lying inthe center of his aura. It looked as small as it always did. Compared to a mage''s aura his was small and shriveled, too small to mount even the simplest spells on. Mar grasped a thin tendril of energy with his mind and pulled it through, feeding it into Jinn¡¯s vessel, where it was promptly gobbled up.

    Suddenly four prongs emerged from the stone¡¯s hard stony shell. They wrapped around Mar¡¯s aura and he had to make an effort to keep calm as the strange sensation of invasion built within him.

    Then something unraveled. Chords of mana that bound his aura in it¡¯s current small and shriveled condition suddenly became visible. Jinn¡¯s tendrils attacked the restrictive bonds, his probes of elemental magic carried out an assault on the now visible enchantment and one by one the binding cords snapped.

    Mar¡¯s aura swelled with the newly available space. If a mage was looking at him at the moment it would seem as though his aura had swollen to a hundred times it¡¯s previous size. The growth slowed down after that, but it continued to slowly expand, like a pig¡¯s bladder slowly being filled and stretched. To Mar, it felt as though chains he¡¯d been carrying for years without noticing had finally fallen off him. He felt free in a way he hadn¡¯t in years.

    He remembered one of the first things every young mage did with magic, the mage vision. He¡¯d seen a crude approximation of it many times via specially enchanted lenses, but he longed to see the world of magic with his own eyes. He channeled mana into his head up into his eyes and blinked. The world around him suddenly appeared to be made of thousands of interwinding strands. It was mana he realized, and it was everywhere. There was red mana streaming into the room from between the shutters and blue mana swirling in the mug of diluted ale he¡¯d been drinking from that morning. There were strands of something that didn¡¯t seem to have any color at all floating through the air, and all manner of strands of in-between colors. The world was a beautiful kaleidoscope of mana interwoven around everything, within everything.

    Then he glanced across the room and his eyes lit upon something truly amazing. There in the corner of his room was the most complex weaving of magic beyond anything he¡¯d ever seen described in any book. A countless number of colors were woven together in a pattern so close as to be almost indecipherable, eventually forming a small, humanoid shape. Interwoven between and around all of the other elements was a fifth kind of magic, one that he¡¯d only seen tiny specs of in his scan of the room. It was so complex that Mar¡¯s eyes began to ache the longer he looked.

    ¡°Ahh!¡± Mar cried out as a sharp pain shot between his eyes, cutting off the vision.

    <You¡¯re a fast learner, but you shouldn¡¯t play around with things you don¡¯t understand. More than one spirit mage has gone mad doing what you just did. As a spirit mage, you have the capacity to see all of the elemental magics, and the spirit magic that binds them together to create life. Most of your kind however prefer to view only one element at a time. Makes you much less likely to go insane.>

    Mar looked around the room with his normal sight, trying to match what he saw just a moment ago. It wasn¡¯t like mage sight, though that¡¯s what he¡¯d been trying to do. Those enchanted goggles and guardsman¡¯s visors were supposed to mimic mage sight, but this was something different. Something beautiful, bizarre, and utterly confusing. He wasn¡¯t just seeing the free magic, he was seeing everything. All the magic in the world, and how it tied together to make things what they were.

    ¡°What was that?¡± Mar asked in a hushed voice, still clutching at his temple.

    <You just looked at your little pet goblin over there with spirit vision. You attempted to see the world at a level of clarity beyond what the feeble human mind is capable of comprehending. You¡¯re lucky I pulled you back. Just be glad you didn¡¯t look my way.>

    ¡°I think it worked. My aura feels different. I feel so much better than I did before¡­ I can¡¯t explain it.¡±

    <Of course it worked. Very few mortal magic casters could make a seal that I couldn¡¯t unbind, even as limited in tools as I am. Your aura is probably now large enough to mount a half dozen spells now. I have one or two simple diagrams for a beginner spirit mage that you can work on latter. It may continue to expand to the size it would have been if you hadn¡¯t been sealed, or it¡¯s growth may be forever stunted. That being said, I am starting to see why the other chose to bind us to you. More on that latter though, for now let¡¯s do some spell-weaving.>

    ¡°Right. How do I do what I did before? Make a creature like that¡­ thing from my memories?¡±

    <Well for those creatures you were very much lucky that you were working with a device that could resonate a crude spell-weave internally until it could form a sort of consciousness. It¡¯s a neat parlor trick but ultimately not very useful as you can¡¯t exert control over your creation. We¡¯re going to be working on something like that today.>

    ¡°Right. So we need that crystal, and a container.¡± Mar fished the piece of amber out of his pocket. He grabbed the mug and dropped the little shard of amber in the small puddle of ale that was lying the the bottom.Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    <I suppose that will have to suffice. A recently dead corpse would be far superior¡­>

    ¡°I¡¯m not delving into necromancy.¡± Mar stated firmly. ¡°If there¡¯s one type of magic that everyone outside the Dead Lands hates, it¡¯s necromancy. The moment people get wind of a necromancer they start running for the pitchforks and torches.¡±

    <Fine. Without any joints or functional sensory inputs however, your first creation is unlikely to be useful for anything. Though I suppose we¡¯re only looking for proof of concept at the moment.>

    Mar nodded without replying. He was too eager to use magic to be dissuaded.

    <Lets try a rudimentary spell-weave. Draw some of your mana from your well. Don¡¯t worry about being picky, it¡¯s nearly all spirit mana in there, which I must say is quite unusual.>

    Mar concentrated again and was presently surprised to find that he fell into the trance-like state in seconds rather than in minutes. He was able to pluck a much larger chord of mana then before and pull it through his aura. That last part was trickier now that it was so much bigger.

    <Good. Now for the simplest stable pattern possible. Form a circle with the strand. Good, now push it towards the piece of amber, but don¡¯t let the connection to you be severed. That¡¯s it, now open your eyes.>

    Mar opened his eyes and looked at the cup in front of him. It looked exactly the same as before.

    ¡°When is it going to start moving?¡± Mar asked.

    <Never. Weavings for living things, or sudo-living things, are vastly more complicated. This weave is not without it¡¯s uses though, especially with you connected to it. Touch the water in the cup.>

    Mar peered inside. The water in the cup was eerily still. He reached a finger in and poked it, jumping back in alarm.

    ¡°I felt that!¡± Mar exclaimed.

    <So long as you maintain that connection, the water in that cup will be like an extension of yourself. With a bit of improvement in skill and design of your tool, you¡¯ll be able to use this weave to sense things from afar. Eventually when you start delving into the true depths of necromancy or chiromancy you¡¯ll integrate this weave into things vastly more complicated. Creations that are extensions of your will but which are so complex and powerful they¡¯ll be indistinguishable from real, live creatures.> Jinn sounded a touch excited.

    Mar poked the water again, reveling in the strange feeling. After several more minutes of experimentation he turned back to Jinn.

    ¡°Okay. I¡¯m ready to learn one of those spells you mentioned.¡±

    <An eager student I see. That¡¯s good, though I don¡¯t believe you have the materials for the full ritual.>

    ¡°No chalk, but Grob brought paper and ink. That should be sufficient for at least an abbreviated diagram.¡±

    <Very well. Lay out some sheets and draw exactly as I describe.>

    Jinn walked Mar through the process of preparing a ritual to mount a spell into a mages aura. After going through the short list of options Jinn described to Mar, and eventually they settled on the simple spell, ¡®Spirit Burst¡¯. Mar had never heard of that specific spell before, but it sounded suspiciously like the simple elemental attack that all first year mages in Orlem learned. Fire burst, air burst, water burst, and stone burst were all basically the same spell. It was simply mana rapidly and forcefully expelled from the aura through pores made during a ritual. Based on the pattern Jinn was guiding Mar through drawing on the ground, this spell was nearly identical to the elemental variants Mar was familiar with. He voiced his thoughts to Jinn.

    <You¡¯re right. This spell is essentially the same thing. The ritual is poking holes in your aura, through which raw mana of any variety can be rapidly expelled into the physical world. This can manifest as a sudden gust of wind, a splash of water, or a wave of heat for each of the elemental magics. For spirit magic it¡¯s a little different though.>

    ¡°How so?¡± Mar asked eagerly. ¡°What does Spirit burst do?¡±

    <It causes a slight tingling sensation in the target. Some pain or numbness if you use enough mana.>

    ¡°That¡¯s it?¡± Thus far, the spell sounded severely disappointing.

    <It¡¯s your first spell. Don¡¯t expect anything too impressive. If you master this I¡¯ll teach you a more powerful version of the spell that can disorient your target, or even cause temporary loss of motor function.>

    Mar let out a low sigh. He¡¯d been eager to throw around magic, but it was foolish to expect to be able to toss around powerful third or fourth order spells without a lot of practice. Still, it would be a start.

    ¡°Alright. The drawing is done. What¡¯s the rest of the ritual?¡±

    <Have you chosen a trigger word? Something to set off the spell? Most mages tend to simply use the name of the spell.>

    ¡°I¡¯ve already thought about it. I think I¡¯ll just use the word ¡®Burst¡¯. It¡¯s shorter than saying the full name, which might be invaluable if I only have a instant to cast the spell.¡±

    <Smart, though in this instance you¡¯d be better off throwing a punch than trying to fight with this spell. Let us begin the ritual.>

    Jinn whispered words for Mar to repeat. The mantra came out to something along the lines of ¡®Azohaaaam noo¡¯los va¡¯taris muritivir burst seluke phataaris¡¯ repeated several times over. The meaning itself was unimportant though. What truly mattered is that the words resonated with the diagram and Mar¡¯s own aura, allowing it to be altered as needed. The process took several minutes and Mar felt a sharp pain steadily building as his aura was reshaped by the ritual. Eventually the pain faded and Jinn told him he could stop.

    ¡°Did it work?¡± Mar wondered aloud.

    <The only way to know is to try it and see.> Jinn replied.

    Mar pointed his hand towards his pile of straw. He concentrated on the mana inside him for a moment before mentally shouting ¡°Burst!¡±.

    Nothing happened.

    <I forgot to mention spirit burst only works on living targets.> Jinn supplied helpfully. <You should try it out on your pet goblin over there.>

    Mar turned to look at Grob briefly before shaking his head. ¡°I¡¯m not going to use untested magic on Grob.¡± The goblin perked up at the mention of his name. He¡¯d tuned out most of the one-sided conversation thus far because he could only hear Mar speaking.

    <The spell is very weak at this stage. It¡¯s highly unlikely that you¡¯ll managed to kill or severely injure the goblin.>

    ¡°I said no, Jinn.¡±

    The demonic stone let out an exasperated sigh. <Fine. Let¡¯s take a walk outside and blast a few people, it will be excellent practice on moving targets.>

    ¡°I¡¯m not going to attack random people without reason, Jinn.¡± Mar snapped in reply.

    <Fine! You¡¯re just impossible to please. If you¡¯re so intent on not testing your spell on the goblin or the stupid humans wandering around this pitiful excuse for a settlement then you could always test the spell on yourself.>

    Mar frowned. ¡°Is that safe? Couldn¡¯t there be mana backlash?¡±

    <You won¡¯t be firing it at your physical body. In fact, this is the perfect time to experiment with your two newest skills at once. Remember that spellweave with the shard of amber? Do it again. Once you have the connection setup again, test out your spell on it. You¡¯ll be able to feel exactly what it would feel like to get hit with your own spell.>

    Mar couldn¡¯t spot a flaw in this plan, and he was eager to work as much magic as possible now that he had the ability. It only took him two attempts to rebuild the spellweave with the shard of amber, and soon he had it back in the cup. Mar set it down on the floor by his feet. He pointed his hand at the open cup, though at this point he wasn¡¯t able to funnel a spell down his arm, so the gesture was more of a mental aid than a magical one.

    ¡°Burst!¡±

    The moment contacted the liquid in the cup Mar jumped back as he felt a sharp piercing pain somewhere on his body. He couldn¡¯t name the part of his body that hurt but he felt it all the same.

    ¡°Ahh! Gods damn that hurt!¡± Mar hissed out between clenched teeth.

    <Hmm. That was quite a bit more powerful than expected. It seems you really do have a talent for this.>

    Mar only glared at the stone in reply. The pain had started receding now and only a strong tingling sensation was left. He poked at the water in the cup and found he felt no sensation from it this time. It seemed the blow had broken the delicate link.

    <This is very good news! You might actually be able to kill someone with that spell! Spirit mages tend to accumulate power quickly. Most can only get new mana by ripping it from the corpses of their slain victims, though you seem to have mana regeneration rate quick enough to not need it. Still, if we kill everyone who¡¯s in the inn right now you¡¯ll have enough spirt mana to raise a few of them as zombies. By morning we could wipe this entire pathetic town from¡ª>

    ¡°I told you, no necromancy.¡± Mar repeated firmly. ¡°In fact, it might be best if I just get some sleep. I need to wake up early tomorrow so I can buy some things before setting sail.¡±

    <If you followed my instructions, I could make you greater than any mage in Orlem in a few years time¡­>

    Mar grabbed the stone hand stuffed it under his pillow. It didn¡¯t do anything to stifle Jinn¡¯s telepathic speech, but it helped Mar ignore it. He found himself slowly drifting off to sleep with thoughts of spells and magic.

 Clear Skies and Shining Seas 4

    Mar woke up well before dawn. His body was still weary but his mind was invigorated by the events of the previous night. He was a mage now! He felt a rush of confidence just from the thought. He was told to find his way to the ship at first light, but he wanted to pick up a few things first.

    Last night he¡¯d been very hesitant to spend any significant amount of money on a good crystal just because of Jinn¡¯s recommendation, but now that he¡¯d seen what he could do with the things he wanted more. Granted, there was little he could do with the spellweaving as it was, but he was already thinking of new combinations he could try that would amplify the weavings usefulness tremendously.

    And so Mar found himself tapping on the door of the same shopkeeper from the other day from whom he¡¯d purchased the shard of amber. He had seen several other small crystals at discount prices in the merchant''s shop, and Mar planned to spend about half of his current funds buying supplies. He would need to increase his skills dramatically if he hoped make a living off them. A mage was far more valuable than a scribe.

    After haggling with the shopkeeper for several minutes Mar finally left the room with a lighter pocket but with a handful of semi-precious gemstones. More amber, bits of garnet, some amethyst, and a bloodstone. That last one had been almost as expensive as the rest of the crystals combined, but Jinn assured him it would be well worth the price.

    He considered buying a dagger before he left, but his funds were depleted enough as it was, and he¡¯d much rather save up for a short sword. He¡¯d wait until the ship stopped somewhere with cheaper prices. Yvast wasn¡¯t known for it¡¯s smithing, and thus everything at the market was imported. Besides, he didn¡¯t think he¡¯d have need of it on the open sea.

    There was one last thing he did need to buy though. A coat, preferably oversized. Though he¡¯d certainly find it useful on occasion it would mainly be for Grob. After some browsing he bought a ragged long jacket that was made of a patchwork of fur and leather. It was torn in several places but nothing beyond repair.

    As he found his way back to the inn to pick up Grob and the rest of their things he bought one last loaf of bread and a wedge of cheese from the innkeeper, both of them the hard and long lasting kind. While food would be provided aboard the ship, Mar didn¡¯t want to be completely dependent on the ship¡¯s larder.

    He woke Grob with a gentle nudge, and began packing the few things they¡¯d had. Everything fit in Grob¡¯s sack, since that was where most of their things came from. Mar didn¡¯t have the heart to break it to the goblin that his paper making supplies would be quite useless. If Grob was willing to carry them around then Mar didn¡¯t see a problem.

    Before leaving, Mar gave the coat to Grob who, looked at the gift in confusion.

    ¡°Go ahead Grob, put that on.¡±

    ¡°This¡­ for Grob?¡± Grob asked hesitantly.

    Mar smiled and nodded. ¡°That¡¯s right. Though I may want to borrow it on occasion. From now on I want you to wear that with the hood up when we''re walking in crowded areas. Too many people have been taking notice of your species. With the hood up you should be able to pass for a young human.¡±

    ¡°Yes boss. Grob thanks you boss!¡± The goblin took the coat reverently in his hands before tossing it around his shoulders. The sleeves were too long, causing his hands to disappear inside of the coat, and the cut drooped to his knees. Grob¡¯s feet were still green, but hopefully the camouflage was enough to repel casual observation.

    They made it to the docks in short order, where Mar was greeted by the same large bandana-wearing sailor from the day before, first mate Jimson.

    ¡°Ah! The fresh chum! ¡®Twas beginin¡¯ to think you weren¡¯t gonna¡¯ show. The little fellow behind you is the green companion you talked about?¡± Jimson asked.

    ¡°That¡¯s right.¡± Mar replied. ¡°This is Grob.¡±

    Grob dutifully stuck out a hand. Mar was surprised to see the first mate accept the handshake.

    Jimson turned towards Mar. ¡°Thamos is an old hand and he¡¯ll teach ya the difference between foremast and mainmast, port and starboard. After that we¡¯ll try you on lookout or somethin¡¯.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m familiar with the names of things. I¡¯ve read a few books on sailing.¡± Mar replied. Jimson rolled his eyes.

    ¡°I told ya¡¯ I don¡¯t place much faith in scribbles on paper. And I certainly don¡¯t trust ¡®em enough to make a sailor outa¡¯ a greenhorn lad! Thamos will show ya the ropes. He¡¯s up on the bowsprit. As for your little green friend¡­¡± Jimson looked Grob up and down, noting his small hands. ¡°I¡¯d bet those little fingers are plenty nimble. He can go below and work on repairing some rope. We lost a few lines during that storm a fortnight ago. Shoulda¡¯ replaced em¡¯ a month a go but the lads were too lazy.¡± First mate Jimson shook his head, making it clear he couldn¡¯t abide by lazy sailors.

    ¡°Right, thanks Jimson.¡± Mar turned to look for the bowsprit, but Jimson stopped him.

    ¡°That¡¯s officer Jimson lad! You¡¯re on my ship now!¡± The first mate grinned.

    ¡°Thank you, first mate Jimson.¡± Mar replied with the Orlem military salute of a closed fist across the waist and a slight bow. The sailor didn¡¯t recognize the gesture. He waved and Mar took that as permission to leave.

    ¡°The bowsprit is at the front!¡± Jimson called out behind him.

    Mar nodded thankfully, though he was certain he had that piece of information filed away somewhere in his head.

    The Hidden Gem was bustling with activity. The deck seemed crowded and Mar could hardly walk two paces without almost bumping into somebody. The masts were particularly busy. Mar noticed that the large square sailcloth on the main mast was slowly being raised into position. It was a fairly intuitive process, but that still meant having a huge number of ropes and pulleys. Somebody thrust a rope into Mar¡¯s hands and instructed him to help pull, which he did. Eventually the main mast was raised and when the sailor realized Mar didn¡¯t know how to tie off the ropes he waved him aside. Luckily this ship only had one mast, unlike the pirate ship from the other day.

    Eventually he made his way to the front of the ship and saw a man staring down at the water as the boat was passing over it. He was waving his hands in the air, which Mar assumed was meant to signal whoever was at the ship''s rudder. He was wearing ragged coarse woven clothes with a simple leather cord wrapped around his waist, both to hold his trousers up and to hang a flask conveniently at his side. He had his hair tied up in a bun on the top of his head, though even Mar could tell it didn¡¯t conceal the balding gray hairs underneath.

    Mar waited patiently for a few minutes, not wanting to interfere with whatever job Thamos was doing. Eventually they were clear of the harbor and Thamos let his arms dropped. He reached for his belt and unhooked the flask at his side. He took a slow shallow sip in a way that told Mar whatever was in that bottle wasn¡¯t water. Without turning to look he offered the flask to Mar, but Mar shook his head.

    ¡°Your loss, lad. The grog the captain gives out is swill. Their ain¡¯t much to do here once we¡¯re out on the sea except drink and talk until we change heading or something happens. The skies have been clear and we¡¯ve got a strong wind at our back. I expect we¡¯ll have a quiet trip until we hit Crabhaven to pick up the latest cargo.¡±If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

    ¡°That¡¯s our first stop? Crabhaven? I¡¯ve never heard of it.¡±

    Thamos shook his head. ¡°Don¡¯t expect you would¡¯ve. It¡¯s a small fishing town. We¡¯ll be trading some coin and tools that we¡¯ve got down below for fermented crab meat. That leg of the journey is all standard stuff. Once we head to port with a cargo ship full of crab though things get a little more exciting. Especially if we have to skirt around the imperial navy. I¡¯d best have you a competent sailor by then.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m Mar.¡± Mar said, introducing himself. ¡°You¡¯re Thamos I assume?¡±

    The older sailor nodded. ¡°Been on the seas since I first signed on as a silver-a-month deck swabber boy. I was only twelve years old at the time. Now, fifty years later I¡¯m still here.¡± Thamos stared at his flask regretfully.

    ¡°If I¡¯d been a clever lad I wouldn¡¯t have blown my pay on whores and booze at every port. If I saved something maybe I would¡¯ve been able to settle down with a wife and father a few brats. Maybe I¡¯d even be sailing my own ship. What are you getting for this, a half share?¡±

    Mar along nodded silently. The man was clearly a bit drunk, and was enjoying hearing himself talk.

    ¡°Save up your coin lad. Otherwise you¡¯ll end up like old Thamos here.¡± Thamos took another swig from his bottle. ¡°Now, sailing. Right. There¡¯s port, there¡¯s starboard.¡± He pointed lazily to each side. ¡°Wind blows the mast, that pushes us forward. Rudder steers the ship. Don¡¯t touch it. This ship we¡¯re sailing is called a cog, popular merchant vessel. We don¡¯t have as big a cargo hold as most merchant ships but that¡¯s why the captain makes sure to buy high-end goods, and saves us some coin by steering us away from docking fees and import taxes.¡±

    Thamos rambled on for several minutes about random topics related to the ship, sailing, and Mar¡¯s duties as a sailor. It took a while to string the disjointed thoughts together but Mar was beginning to figure out how sailing seemed to work. Thamos walked him around the deck and pointed out the various jobs needed to keep a ship functioning, and eventually lead Mar downstairs for their evening meal. The food wasn¡¯t particularly good. The salted pork was tough but edible, and there was something called a ¡®sea biscuit¡¯ which was hard as a rock and very bland. Thamos promised Mar that the food would improve once they did their trading in Crabhaven.

    Eventually the sun started setting and Thamos told Mar he was dismissed for the day. The older sailor lead Mar below deck, where the crew¡¯s sleeping quarters were. Mar spotted Grob in the corner with a pile of half-woven rope lying on the ground in front of him and waved as Thamos lead him to a large array body size of half-nets suspended around a narrow corridor.

    ¡°What are these things for?¡± Mar asked quizzically. Surely they couldn¡¯t be used for catching fish, since they were only about the size of a person and firmly secured to the inside of the ship.

    ¡°Those are hammocks. You sleep in them.¡± Thamos supplied. He walked to a specific hammock, under which lay several empty flasks exactly matching the one Thamos was wearing at his hip. Thamos lifted the leather chord of his shoulder and hung it on a peg by the hammock¡¯s head and picked up a fresh flask, which he cradled in his hands as he lay down.

    ¡°Those two hammocks right across from me are available for now. Put your things in there and lay claim. Long as you don¡¯t snore, that is. One for you and one for your goblin friend.¡±

    Mar touched the netting suspiciously, causing it to swing back and forth. ¡°What about beds?¡±

    Thamos snorted. ¡°Ain¡¯t enough room on a ship for all of us to get beds. Captain Rollie has private quarters above deck, First Mate Jimson has a smaller room on the across the deck. They both get beds. The rest of us sleep in here, in hammocks. Personally I like it better. Takes out the swaying of the ship to keep you nice and still as you sleep.¡±

    Grob came over when Mar called. Unlike Mar, Grob hopped into the string and netting contraption without hesitation, easily climbing up to the above hammock the one Mar was still inspecting. The goblin seemed quite overjoyed with the idea of having his own sleeping spot, though he glared suspiciously at the three nearbye sleeping sailors, as if concerned that one of them would take it from him at any moment.

    Thamos downed one last sip from his flask before shoving the cork in and placing it under his head like a pillow. Within seconds he was snoring loudly. Mar glanced up at Grob, who had made a little nest out of the damp blanket that came with every hammock and curled up into a ball.

    Oh well. It was strange but it wasn¡¯t like Mar hadn¡¯t slept in uncomfortable places before, and the others seemed to be sleeping soundly enough.

    An hour latter, Mar still couldn¡¯t fall asleep. The hammock was comfortable enough, though not as flat as his usual sleeping arrangements. In truth between the noise of a dozen snoring sailors, the cramped humid air, and the constant swaying of the ship he was starting to feel a little sea sick.

    Eventually Mar decided that the discomfort wasn¡¯t something that was going to go away on it¡¯s own, and so he decided to get a breath of fresh air. Before he left he reached into Grob¡¯s sack of things and pulled out the small bundle of scrap paper that he¡¯d wrapped the crystals he¡¯d purchased that morning with. Then he reached into his pocket and tapped the stone there.

    Jinn flickered slightly before the dull glow returned, telling Mar that the demonic spirit was once again active.

    <It would seem we¡¯re on a ship. A dainty little wooden thing by the looks of it. How quaint. I assume that if you¡¯re disturbing me you¡¯re ready for another lesson in magic?>

    ¡°Yes, that¡¯s right. Nothing too flashy or loud though.¡± Mar whispered in reply. ¡°These people don¡¯t know I¡¯m a mage.¡± Mar felt odd, and yet very pleased at being able to make that last statement.

    <Very well. Bring your crystals and I will help you expand your repertoire of magical weavings.>

    Mar quietly made his way above deck. There were still a few people milling about, but not nearly as many as there were when they were just setting sail. Mar picked the most isolated spot he could find and leaned against the railing, overlooking the water below. He pulled Jinn back out of his pocket, who instructed him to take out another piece of amber and find a bucket with some water in it. It was sea water, previously used to clean the deck, but Jinn said that the weave Mar would be working on was simple enough that it wouldn¡¯t be affected by contaminants in the medium.

    ¡°Alright, now what¡¯s the weave, Jinn?¡± Mar asked after he dropped the piece of amber into the bucket of seawater.

    <The same as before. A simple circular weave. We¡¯re going to be doing something different this time though. Yesterday I taught you that you could receive signals through your weaving. Tonight I will show you that it is possible to send signals down lines of spirit mana as well.>

    At first Mar had been disappointed at rehashing the same lesson, but this was starting to sound interesting. This time Mar was able to concentrate and form a ring of spirit mana without Jinn¡¯s guidance. The connection strand leading back to him was a lot harder, thanks to the swaying of the boat, but as long as Mar didn¡¯t move too much the delicate line of mana held.

    The signal was weak, but if Mar sloshed the water around in the bucket hard enough it almost felt like somebody was pulling on a single hair somewhere on his body. It took him time to pinpoint the feeling since it wasn¡¯t something that was there before, but after several minutes of searching he thought he found it. He said so to Jinn.

    <Good. Now focus on that spot, hold it in your mind. Now concentrate on your desire to move. Think on that as hard as you can and send mana down the mana wire you¡¯ve created.>

    It took several more attempts before Mar was able to manage everything. It wasn¡¯t until Jinn called out to him to stop that he realized the water was trembling ever so slightly.

    ¡°It¡¯s moving! I did that?¡± Mar grinned to himself.

    <You did. And without a drop of water mana either. Say¡­ you¡¯re much more powerful than most spirit mages. Keep trying and see if you can get the water to slosh over the edge of the bucket.>

    Mar didn¡¯t need much prompting to continue practicing his newfound talent. He was making the water move just by thinking! It was a easy as moving a limb, though Mar didn¡¯t have much coordination yet. Just thinking really hard wasn¡¯t enough to get the water of the rim, but Mar soon realized that by pushing the water from one side of the bucket to the other allowed him to build up ever so slightly larger waves with each passing, until eventually the water sloshed over the side of the bucket, soaking Mar¡¯s ankle in sea water. It was very satisfying.

    Eventually the light of dawn was beginning to creep over the horizon, and Mar realized he should get back to his hammock and try to get some sleep. He was supposed to spend the morning with Thamos again. They¡¯d be following the coastline until they hit Crabhaven sometime in the next few days. Looking out over the miles of water that stretched out across the horizon, Mar was just beginning to understand how large this world truly was.

 Clear Skies and Shining Seas 5

    Aboard the ship one day blended into the next and Mar began to settle into a simple routine. It hadn¡¯t been a week yet, though it felt like longer. He was still assigned to Thamos, but Mar could do most of the jobs on the ship by now. He was beginning to wish he¡¯d taken a greater interest in the stars back during his days in the library, after Thamos told him a good navigator might make as much as ten shares on a long voyage.

    He was on lookout with Thamos when he caught sight of Crabhaven. It was a small town, really not much bigger than a village, though it¡¯s docks were extensive enough to put minor cities to shame. The water was littered with floating cylinders of wood with ropes tied to them. Buoys, Thamos called them. Apparently they were used to mark the fish and crab traps that were located out in the deeper waters.

    Anyone could tell that Crabhaven was a fishmongers bastion. Boats varied wildly in size and design but were generally of a solid construction. Two of the fishing ships at Moore were nearly as big as The Hidden Gem.

    Figures in smaller hand-rowed boats turned at the approach of the smuggler vessel. Captain Rollie eventually ordered the sails to be brought down and the anchors to be dropped. They sat in the water for nearly an hour before they were approached by two smaller ships. Captain Rollie stepped out of his cabin. Mar had only seen passing glances of the Captain before, since usually he was either steering the ship or in his quarters, but he appeared now to have a word with the locals. Captain Rollie was a short man who compensated by wearing boots with a thick sole. He also had a wide brimmed hat covering his head and a scarf wrapped around most of his face, obscuring his features. Between that and the fact that he often kept to himself he was a very mysterious figure aboard the ship.

    On the Captain''s orders a ladder was lowered so some of the villagers could climb aboard The Hidden Gem. Three rough looking fisherman types climbed aboard, one of them much bigger than the rest. The big one clasped Captain Rollie¡¯s hand hand shook it firmly. They exchanged pleasantries for a short while, and then the Captain gave the order to raise the anchor. The Hidden Gem¡¯s crew passed off the hawser lines, the strongest, thickest ropes on the ship, to the locals who returned to their boats to row ashore.

    When they made it the short distance to their docks there were others waiting for them, all of whom helped pull the hawser lines. Many fishing vessels had returned in the hour they¡¯d been waiting and all those people, along with more than a few women and children from the houses, helped pull the The Hidden Gem closer to the biggest docking area the village had.

    It took some delicate maneuvering on the part of the people of Crabhaven to pull in a large sailing vessel like this, but Mar had been a dock hand for long enough to be able to tell that the locals knew what they were doing. When they¡¯d at last found themselves at port, Mar descended the ladder leading the the lookout tower. Thamos had fallen asleep while waiting and even shaking his shoulder Mar couldn¡¯t wake him up.

    Mar made his way to the port side of the ship and helped toss the lines overboard so the ship could be tied to the docks. It was interesting to be on the other side of this job for a change.

    A cheer erupted from the crew of the smuggler¡¯s ship when the gang plank was lowered. Dry land! While Mar had stopped getting sea sick at night, the queasy feeling still hadn¡¯t completely gone away. He glanced up at Thamos, who was still asleep up in the lookout post. He was supposed to stick by Thamos until the older sailor said he¡¯d learned the ins and outs of sailing, but Mar didn¡¯t think that applied to time on dry land.

    He went with many of the other sailors below deck, grabbing their coin pouches so they could buy alcohol or a night¡¯s sleep on dry land. He too grabbed his coin purse, as well as Jinn, and the little bundle of crystals. He hadn¡¯t been able to practice magic since that first night on the ship, and he was still very eager to learn more.

    It seemed the villagers had done a lot to prepare for their arrival in the hour that the ship''s crew had been waiting to be pulled into port. Crabhaven wasn¡¯t big enough to support a proper inn, but they had an alehouse, one that seemed to also serve as a private home. Seats and tables had been put out over an open area, five barrels of the local brew were brought out for the sailors to spend their coin on.

    Mar sat with the other sailors for a while, but Thamos was still the only one he knew well, and Mar remembered his constant warnings about spending all your coin on women and booze. After several minutes, Mar decided that he should head off to the outskirts of town with Jinn for some more practice. Several locals glanced at him as he walked away from the gathering, but Mar figured they would simply think he was off the relieve himself in the woods.

    Crabhaven was located on a small piece of land between the forest and the sea, so it didn¡¯t take too long to get some tree and between him and the settlement. Luckily the the locals had cleared most of the smaller plants so they could walk through the forest, so there were paths through the thorns, but still enough privacy that Mar could remain unobserved. He pulled the gray stone out of his pocket.

    ¡°Jinn! Wake up.¡±

    The stone slowly took on it¡¯s dim crimson glow. <This doesn¡¯t look like a ship¡­> Jinn commented.

    ¡°No we¡¯re on land for the time being. I¡¯m ready for another lesson.¡±

    <First I will need an infusion of mana. It¡¯s been several days.>

    Mar gave the demonic spirit the mana it needed. Unlike before, he only needed to spend a couple of seconds concentrating, rather than minutes, and the mana he gave now was just a drop in the bucket. His aura had swelled dramatically as it filled over the last few days.

    ¡°Okay. What¡¯s today''s lesson? I don¡¯t have any cups or buckets of water, but I can get one if need be.¡±

    <No, I think you¡¯re ready for the next level. There¡¯s plenty of plants around us. Take one of those thicker weeds and stab the biggest amethyst you have into it¡¯s base. It should be completely inside the plant.>

    Mar picked a short stubby weed with a base three times as thick around as his largest amethyst. Trying to stick the gemstone into the plant was difficult work. The plant was actually quite tough. He had to grab a rock he¡¯d found nearby and bash up the base of the plant a bit. Mar was beginning to wish he¡¯d bought that knife.

    Eventually he got the amethyst inside, though the plant was a bit worse for wear.

    <Good. Now you¡¯re going to be forming two loops, or rather multiple control networks. This will allow you to do two different actions. When you¡¯re better at this, you will even be able to use multiple crystals to create several control nodes.>

    ¡°Okay. I think I¡¯ve got it¡­ does this look good?¡± Mar made two loops, right next to each other.

    <A good start, though in those locations they you won¡¯t be able to do much except make the plant wriggle. Not that you can do much with a plant anyhow. Now make two threads leading back to you.>

    It was exactly like making a single control loop, except now there were two of them, which made Mar¡¯s job four times as hard. It took him several attempts, but eventually he created a stable weaving.

    <This plant is rather unique in how quickly it is able to adjust its orientation to catch the most light. Now that we are working with a living thing, there is already a network of spirit mana established. As a spirit mage, you can take that network over and control the plant¡¯s functions. Concentrate and see if you can sense the plant¡¯s network.>

    Mar concentrated. It took him another minute, but he realized that he could sense something there. It was dim and fading fast, but it was there.

    ¡°I sense it! But it¡¯s weak, and getting weaker. Why?¡±

    <The plant is dying. As it does so the mana that accumulated inside it dissipates. Because it was only a weed it didn¡¯t have much white mana in the first place. Something like a rabbit might be good for a few hours, even days under the proper conditions. Soon it will be dead and only as useful as dirt or stone, but you can slow the dissipation process down by filling the plant with your own vitality in the form of your own white spirit mana. Go ahead, simply pour energy into the plant from your control node. Let your spirit mana flow through the threads that connect you to it, refilling the plant¡¯s depleted reservoirs. But don¡¯t break your connection.>

    There was an audible hissing sound buzzing in the air, like hot oil sizzling in a pan or air being blown through a long tube.

    ¡°How do I know when I¡¯ve put in enough?¡± Mar grunted out, proud of the fact that he could speak and maintain the connection and active flow of mana simultaneously.

    <More is generally better. Just keep pouring mana it until¡­ Oh my, it seems you have put quite a bit of mana in already. You should stop before¡ª>

    Pop!

    A cracking sound echoed through the small clearing as the weed exploded into pieces.

    <Before it explodes.>

    ¡°You could have warned me.¡± Mar said with a glare as he picked plant fibers out of his hair. Streaks of green ran across his tunic, and would likely be impossible to wash out.

    <Well, consider it a lesson learned. Sometimes you can expand a living thing¡¯s pattern beyond its natural limits. Sometimes you fail and it explodes. It¡¯s really as much a luck as skill. But look, by your feet. It¡¯s a scarab.>

    Mar jumped back in surprise. There was indeed a scarab at his feet. It was a giant beetle, as big as Mar¡¯s hand with a deep golden brown colored chitin exoskeleton. It started slowly lumbering over towards Mar.

    <A juvenile brown buster beetle! How lucky! Quick, kill it! It will make a far more interesting test subject than the plants!>

    ¡°I don¡¯t know, it¡¯s actually quite a nice looking bug¡­¡± Mar leaned over to feel the smooth golden brown carapace. Just then the But moved like lightning and snapped it¡¯s pincers. It managed to grab the very tip of Mar¡¯s finger, sending a Wave of pain through his entire arm as he quickly yanked his hand away.

    ¡°Ah! By the gods that thing¡¯s got some bite to it. Alright, no mercy. This is in the name of magic, after all.¡± Mar grabbed a large rock from the ground with the hand that wasn¡¯t throbbing.Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work!

    <Wait! Don¡¯t crush! You need the body mostly intact.>

    ¡°How am I supposed to do that?¡± Mar asked, dropping the stone.

    <I¡¯m sure you can figure out a way. Drown it in water or something.>

    Mar was hesitant to grab that beetle again. The pain had started fading, but he wasn¡¯t eager to get pinched again.

    Mar hesitantly maneuvered around the scarab, but it reoriented itself to keep it¡¯s pincers pointed towards Mar.

    <Stop dancin with it. I¡¯ve you¡¯re so afraid of getting pinched, blast it a few times with magic.>

    It hadn¡¯t even occurred to Mar to use his spell to disable the beetle. He mentally reprimanded himself, though it was to be expected, since he¡¯d only added the spell to his arsenal of tools recently. It wasn¡¯t instinctive yet.

    ¡°Burst!¡± Mar shouted, hand pointed at the scarab. Unseen energy blasted into the over sized beetle. For a moment it¡¯s limbs went limp. Mar nearly made the mistake of touching it when it started twitching again.

    ¡°Burst!¡±

    ¡°Burst!¡±

    ¡°Burst!¡±

    After firing three more spirit bursts at the beetle it lay still. Mar poked it with a stick and got no reaction. He used the stick to flip the scarab over on it¡¯s back, and still nothing happened. It seemed to be fully immobilized for the time being.

    Mar searched the area around the exploded weed, looking for his amethyst, but he couldn¡¯t find it anywhere. Eventually he gave up. He could look more latter. Jinn told him the bloodstone was better suited to a project like this anyhow. With the same sharp rock he had used to cut into the weed earlier, Mar carefully pried open the insect''s mouth and shoved the small little shard or scarlet-red bloodstone inside as deeply and as firmly inside as he could get.

    <This insect has six limbs. If you were making such a creation from scratch without a network built you would need at least twelve control nodes to make it move. Fortunately things are simpler in this scenario, since most of the nervous system is intact. Do the same thing you did with the plant, put in about the same amount of mana as you did last time, but no more. Don¡¯t worry, this scarab will be able to contain far more than the plant without exploding.>

    Mar concentrated, forming a link between himself and the bloodstone in the beetle¡¯s jaws. With the connection established, he formed two loops of white spirit mana as he did with the plant. Through them he was able to connect to the still mostly functional network of spirit mana already in existence. Mar dumped his energy into that, slowly taking it over with his will as his power swept through the bug¡¯s body.

    There was much more room here than in the plant. As more of the beetles nervous system was connected to Mar he began to get the distinct feeling of sensation from his control threads. He had to use his imagination, but if felt a little like he could put himself inside the bug.

    ¡°This is amazing¡­ I think I can move it around¡­¡± There was some twitching on the bugs part, but aside from causing random spasms Mar couldn¡¯t seem to do much with the bug.

    <Try connecting your control threads to a certain region of the bug. Feel your way through the insect and find the nerves that lead to the muscles that control it¡¯s pincers. If you connect your control threads to those you should be able to operate the scarab mandibles through your magic.>

    Mar was having trouble finding the connections Jinn was talking about. That¡¯s when he remembered he had access to mage sight now. One of it¡¯s primary uses was for it¡¯s ability to see through things that were traditionally non-transparent, like this insect''s carapace.

    Mar blinked as he pulled mana into his eyes and the world changed into shades of vibrant color. Suddenly the elaborate network of magical energies that he could previously only feel were laid out before him, his clumsy control threads were lit up with a dim white glow in his vision. Why hadn¡¯t he thought of this before? Weaving mana would be much easier when he could see what he was doing. Just so long as he didn¡¯t look an anything blindingly complex.

    In truth, even this scarab was tough to stare at for long, but so long as he focused on only a single part of it he only developed a minor headache.

    Sure enough he was able make the pincers twitch. Using both control threads simultaneously was very tricky, especially to use effectively, but eventually Mar was able to close the pincers on command. He found a small hard nut on the ground and placed it inside the beetles pincers. He concentrated on both strands, triggering them to close. The nut cracked with a satisfying snap.

    ¡°Woah! Cool!¡± a young voice said in a hushed whisper. ¡°I can never mess with the buster beetles without them trying to bite my hand off! How¡¯d you do it?¡±

    Mar looked up. There was a young girl, maybe twelve years old, with mud on her face and wide eyes. He mentally reprimanded himself for not noticing anyone approaching, but he had been too deep in concentration.

    ¡°Don¡¯t know. This one just seems very cooperative.¡± Mar lied. He glanced at Jinn who was still glowing a dim red color. He reached a hand behind him and slid the stone into his pocket. In the same smooth motion, he picked up another nut off the ground.

    ¡°Do you wanna try?¡± Mar asked as he held out the nut. The girl eagerly took it, then looked towards the beetle. She seemed much more hesitant to go near the large brown beetle, but after several long moments of watching the bug remain completely still she darted in with the nut and shoved it into the bugs jaws.

    The moment her hand was out of the way Mar triggered the beetle¡¯s pincers and cracked the nut with a snap.

    ¡°Wow! That¡¯s so cool! But why is it so still? It isn¡¯t moving at all except for the pincers¡­¡±

    She was right. But if he could move the the jaws of the insect why couldn¡¯t he move the the legs with the same technique?

    Mar blinked, bringing his mage sight back. He plucked one of his control threads off it¡¯s current connection and moved it to one of the legs. Sure enough, when he sent a command down the control thread the leg twitched obediently.

    ¡°Oh, now it¡¯s moving.¡± The girl said.

    Mar switched the other control node to the leg. There were two joints in the leg, so to properly use it he needed two control threads. Using both together, he was able to pick the leg up and swing it forward. The bug crawled forward an infinitesimal amount.

    It was still far too slow. Using this technique he could only move one leg at a time. But if he had fourteen connection threads, two for each leg and the pincers, he should be able to control the entire beetle. Mar grinned at the thought. This must have been what Jinn was working him up to. It would be tough to manage fourteen control strands, but being able to see what he was doing with mage sight made things much easier.

    Mar tugged at his mana pool harder than ever before and withdrew fourteen wriggling strands of spirit mana. It took a massive effort of will to hold them in check, though they threatened to slip away the moment his attention was off them. He forced them into the beetle in their proper locations, but every time he got to the fifth connection one of his previous threads fell apart.

    This wasn¡¯t working. Maybe if he just made the threads thicker¡­ Success! The fifth strand held. Better yet, when he kept an active stream of white mana running through it into the beetle the connection was even stronger!

    <Mar¡­ what are you doing?> Jinn whispered mentally, but Mar was too deep in concentration. He dug into old skills he¡¯d learned and perfected over his years in the library to block out all distractions, allowing him to focus his entire mind on the task of hand.

    ¡°Cool, it¡¯s glowing! I¡¯ll be right back.¡± The girl whispered reverently, through Mar took no notice.

    <Mar, you¡¯re going to overload it. It could explode¡­ or worse.>

    But the young mage wasn¡¯t paying attention. He was so close to attaching the eighth connection, more than halfway done, when something pushed back against him.

    Mar¡¯s concentration shattered and the control threads frayed apart, dispersing into wild mana. His mage sight vanished as he fell backwards on his rear. He was about to stand back up when he noticed something huge looming over him.

    He just barely moved his head away in time to keep it from being crushed between a massive pair of pincers. He rolled to the left and scrambled a short distance on his hands and knees until he could stand up.

    When Mar turned around to get a proper look at his attacker he was amazed to see it was a giant brown beetle. It clearly resembled the large hand-sized insect he¡¯d been toying with just a minute ago, but the proportions were slightly wrong. All six of its limbs were as thick across as Mar¡¯s legs but they were twisted and misshapen, and it¡¯s beady eyes were bigger around than a fist, though one of them was far larger than the other. It probably weighed the same as a full grown pig, and was many times more dangerous with it¡¯s huge set of pincers on its front that looked like they could crack a full grown man in two. They weren¡¯t lined up quite right, with one pincer much larger than the other, but even so those things were clearly dangerous.

    Mar backpedaled rapidly. He scanned the clearing for the girl who had been with him a second ago, but she was gone. Good. He glanced around for anything that he could use as a weapon. The sharp rock that he had used so effectively before was looking woefully inadequate. Mar threw it at the beetle that was clumsily approaching him on it¡¯s legs of varying length. It bounced harmlessly off the rock-hard carapace with a sound similar to a pebble being thrown at a block of iron.

    ¡°Guys look the bug is glowing-¡±

    Mar heard the girl¡¯s voice, and she was trailed by several other local children, some bigger some older. One chubby boy who looked to be about fifteen stared at the beetle with wide eyes and an open mouth. Finally he managed to overcome his slackjaw expression.

    ¡°It¡¯s a monster!¡± The chubby boy cried.

    ¡°Get out of here!¡± Mar yelled at them. They needed no further prompting. They turned and ran.

    The deformed beast glanced between Mar and the fleeing group of young humans. Whatever intellect that creature possessed decided that the chubby boy looked like something it wanted to crush in its mandibles and it started scurrying after the boy as he ran.

    Mar waved his arms to try and get it to catch it¡¯s attention again. He wasn¡¯t sure how it happened, but this abomination was his fault.

    ¡°This way!¡± Mar shouted as he waved his arms, but the former-beatle ignored him and continued it¡¯s path towards the boy who let out a high pitched scream as he ran back to the village as fast as his stubby legs could carry him.

    Mar chased after the overgrown bug as it chased after the children. He wasn¡¯t sure how he could stop this thing, but it was his responsibility to try. Still, it would be suicide to attack it without a weapon, but he didn¡¯t have anything on hand. If only there was something he could shoot at it like an arrow or a spell.

    That¡¯s right! Magic! He¡¯d forgotten about it again.

    ¡°Burst!¡± Mar shouted at the tail end of the beast. Mar felt the spell leave his body, but it didn¡¯t slow down the creature at all. That was alright. It had taken four blasts to subdue the creature before after all. In it¡¯s newly empowered state it would take at least that many.

    ¡°Burst!¡±

    Mar missed with that shot. The sun was low in the sky now and provided little light, but torches in the village proper were lit and as they got closer to the villagers homes torchlight illuminated Mar¡¯s target.

    ¡°Burst!¡±

    ¡°Burst!¡±

    ¡°Burst!¡±

    As far as Mar could tell all three of those magical missiles hit their target, but none of them managed to draw so much as a glance from the giant beetle that was single-mindedly pursuing its chosen target.

    ¡°What¡¯s all this racket out here. Can¡¯t you kids see we¡¯re entertaining guests and¡ª By the Gods! It¡¯s a monster! Louise!¡±

    ¡°Burst!¡±

    ¡°Burst!¡±

    ¡°Burst!¡±

    There was a slight hiccup in the monster''s movement now.

    ¡°Burst!¡±

    ¡°Burst!¡±

    ¡°Burst!¡±

    Somewhere in the distance a bell was ringing.

    ¡°Burst!¡±

    The beetle came to a sudden stop. Without warning it whipped around. As it turned its massive pincers it clipped Mar in the stomach and knocked him on his side. Apparently he¡¯d finally annoyed the monster enough to catch the it¡¯s attention.

    Again Mar rolled to give himself some distance and scrambled to his feet. He met the approaching creatures eyes and backed away slowly. Suddenly his back collided with something hard and solid. He didn¡¯t need to look to realize he was pinned against a wall.

    He couldn¡¯t turn left because there was a building in the way, that meant the only way he could move was forward or to his right. The scarab must have had an instinctive understanding of Mar¡¯s predicament, or just been lucky enough to position its body in such a way that it had a good chance of grabbing its prey through either path of escape.

    Mar reached around him, looking for anything he could use as a weapon. A loose piece of wood or a brick¡­ there was nothing.

 Clear Skies and Shining Seas 6

    Mar stared down the approaching beast, no weapon at hand. Maybe he could throw his shirt over its eyes to distract it? No, he had a better idea.

    ¡°Jinn.¡± Mar hissed. Reached for his pocket, but something felt off. ¡°I need your help.¡± There was no response from the stone. Mar grabbed at his pocket. There was nothing there. He must have lost the warlock¡¯s totem when he was knocked to the ground. That was bad.

    The beetle slowly started advancing on Mar, if he was going to make his move it would have to be soon. Mar was just about to remove his tunic when a battle cry rang out nearby. Suddenly, a man in makeshift armor with a fishing spear burst out from around the corner.

    The fisherman emerged around the side of the building, and his eyes narrowed with a fierce and burning anger when they lit upon the massive deformed insect.

    ¡°That¡¯s it daddy! That¡¯s the monster!¡± The chubby boy from earlier stood behind the large and muscular fisherman. The father took a moment to steel his nerves and brace his spear, his muscles remembering movements and stances that had been drilled into them a lifetime ago. He charged the overgrown insect, spear extended.

    The man¡¯s spear hit the beetle, scoring a deep cash along its chitin exoskeleton, but ultimately doing no lasting damage. The beetle turned and swatted its new assailant with its pincers, but the fisherman was too quick for the beetle and jumped out of the way just in time.

    ¡°Goodman Varns¡¯ has got it cornered! This way everybody!¡± Shouted another townsman. Another dozen locals barreled down the street wielding a motley assortment of fishing implements as weapons. The beetle was distracted by its new attacker and Mar used the opportunity to slip out of danger.

    The villagers circled up around the monster, backing it into the same corner where it had nearly trapped Mar. Humans and monsters were at a standoff for several long moments. None of the villagers were brave enough to take the first blow, and the insect instinctively knew that the moment it lurched at one of the gathered humans the others would descend upon it.

    Goodman Varns, the same spear-wielding fisherman who had saved Mar, rallied his courage first. He stepped forward and jabbed at the beast with his spear. The scarab saw the blow coming before it landed and opened its pincers, which caught the spear as Goodman Varns thrust it. With a loud cracking sound, the insect snapped the spear in two.

    The creature was far from victorious however. Spurred on by Goodman Varns¡¯ act of bravery the other villagers advanced, each eager to strike a blow at the monstrous bug while it¡¯s attention was on the Goodman. Skinning knives and wooden buoys proved to be of little use against the scarab¡¯s hard shell, but one muscular villager stepped forward with a felling axe and swung the tool like he was chopping a log. The axe bit into one of the beetle¡¯s legs with a sickly crack.

    The monster let out a vicious hiss. It redoubled its efforts, spinning on its five remaining legs to try and orient its pincers towards the man who had robbed it of one of its limbs. It¡¯s attackers quickly fell back, but Goodman Varns was up again. He took the pointed half of his broken spear and held it in his hands like a sword, wiping it in a slice past the pincers and at the creature¡¯s eyes.

    Having distracted the beast again, the Goodman enabled the other townsmen to strike. The man with the axe came forward again, this time taking a swing at the insect¡¯s torso. This blow only made a small crack, but greenish fluid began to trickle out of its body. That¡¯s when the axe man slipped up as one of the insects remaining limbs swept backwards and took his feet out from under him.

    The man tried to scramble to his feet, but the bug was on top of him in a heartbeat. In one vicious motion, the creature closed its pincers around the villager¡¯s skull, which exploded with a juicy pop.

    The other villagers jumped back in fear, but Goodman Varns reacted with rage. He picked up his fallen friend¡¯s axe and swung it with wild abandon at the beast.

    Mar couldn¡¯t just watch this fight go down without helping. While none of the fishermen¡¯s tools besides the axe looked particularly useful, Mar spotted a fishing net that somebody had brought along. He¡¯d seen men at the docks cast a net before. The trick was in spinning it as you threw it so that the weights let the net spread out. Mar ran up as close to the giant insect as he dared and threw the net. Success! It landed square on top of the beetle, tangling its limbs and pincers. The fight quickly started turning in Goodman Varns¡¯ favor as the beetle became unable to fight back.

    ¡°This is for Harnold, you filthy abomination! May you and your master go straight to hell!¡± Goodman Varns raised the axe high over his head, giving a thunderous roar as he leapt through the air and smashed the tool with all his strength right in between the insect¡¯s eyes, splitting its head in two. The bug twitched and spasmed violently before going still.

    A cheer let out amongst the villager, many of them clapping their comrade on the arm or shoulder. To congratulate him.

    The sound of venting gas filled the air. Everyone turned to the insect¡¯s corpse, where a cloud of multicolored smoke was rising. The insect''s body seemed to deflate, like the flesh had started falling apart. A few seconds later it¡¯s cracked and battered exoskeleton clattered to the ground. Out of the bugs now empty carcass a single red stone rolled out. It was the bloodstone Mar had put in the beetle¡¯s mouth back when it had still been normal.

    Goodman Varns stooped to the ground to pick it up. By this time several of the sailors from The Hidden Gem had found their way over to this location, trying to see what all the commotion was about, so Mar didn¡¯t look out of place.

    ¡°I¡¯ve seen these things before.¡± Goodman Varns announced in a low voice. ¡°Back during my service in the Estrar Republic. Those damned dark mages sent all kinds of undead and unnatural beasts at us.¡±

    ¡°But you defeated it, Varns! Guess mages aren¡¯t all they¡¯re cracked up to be!¡± one of the villagers laughed.

    ¡°Idiot. See this crystal? This stinks of a dark mage, or more accurately, a chimeromancer. And where there¡¯s a chimeromancer there¡¯s bound to be more creatures like this. We need to search the countryside and route out whoever caused this mess. And we need to lay dear Harnold to rest.¡±

    The mood grew glum as attention was brought back to the dead villager. Somebody threw a piece of sailcloth over the body.

    Goodman Varns walked over to what remained of the insect creature. He plucked the net off to get a closer look at the hard pieces of chitin exoskeleton that remained.

    ¡°Whoever threw this net had a good idea. I might have been finished if not for the aid.¡±

    The villagers all looked at each other, trying to remember who had done the deed. In the confusion and heat of the moment, nobody remembered.

    Mar decided it would be better if he kept quiet. No sense in drawing more attention to himself than needed. That bit about hunting down a warlock had unnerved him a little, and he was glad that he would be leaving at first light, along with the rest of the ship¡¯s crew.

    ¡°Mar, my boy, this is where you¡¯ve been! Been looking all over for you I have! We¡¯re supposed to stick together you know. You¡¯d be surprised at the kind of trouble a sailor can get himself into in a single night at port!¡± It was Thamos.

    ¡°Sorry Thamos, but yes, I see what you mean.¡± He glanced back warily at the scene of the recent showdown.

    ¡°Well, come back and join me and the others. You¡¯ve hardly spoken to any of the crew besides me. There¡¯s only a score of us, and there¡¯s no reason you shouldn¡¯t know us all by name.¡± Thamos took a long slow sip. He was drinking from a tankard rather than a flask, probably having decided that the local brew was good enough to add some variety to his diet. ¡°Let these kind locals finish up whatever it is they¡¯re doing.¡± Thamos spotted the human shaped figure lying underneath a blanket. ¡°Somebody get to drunk and fall asleep in the streets? Can¡¯t blame him. Done it myself once or twice.¡±

    Mar wasn¡¯t sure if Thamos was really drunk enough to overlook the huge puddle of blood on the ground or if Thamos had some sort of ingrained instinct to ignore any sign of violence as none of his business, but either way the old sailor whistled a merry tune as he strode away.

    When they returned to the open-air tavern there were some questions directed towards those sailors who had slipped away about what the bell-ringing and shouting was about. Mar gladly let one of the other sailors describe the body of the huge beetle that the villagers killed, and the last few snippets of the battle that the sailor had managed to catch. He didn¡¯t bother interjecting or correcting.

    Mar tried to mingle and socialize but his mind kept going back to what that fisherman, Goodman Varns, had said. They¡¯d be scanning the countryside looking for a warlock and sooner or later somebody would connect the dots and point them to Mar. They might even manage to find the amethyst, or worse, Jinn.

    He had to go back and find them. Jinn most importantly but it would be smart to look for the amethyst as well. The bloodstone was now in Goodman Varns¡¯ hands and he was unlikely to find it, which made the amethyst his most valuable remaining crystal to practice magic with, since he was unlikely to come across any at as low prices as the stolen merchandise had been sold for in Yvast.

    Above all though he had to go back and look for Jinn. That warlock¡¯s totem was his only source of magical training. The moment that was done he would head back to the ship and sleep in his hammock and by dawn this damp little town would be just a memory. Whether someone figured out who made that monster wouldn¡¯t matter if he was a hundred leagues away.This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    ¡°I¡¯ll be right back.¡± Mar stood up to leave, but Thamos grabbed him by the sleeve.

    ¡°Ya¡¯ can¡¯t be done already, lad! You¡¯ve barely gotten started on your drink!¡±

    ¡°Sorry Thamos. I¡¯ve never been much for alcohol.¡±

    Thamos snorted. ¡°Ya¡¯ call this alcohol lad? This is flavored water, I tell ya¡¯. If ya¡¯ need to piss the locals dug a nice fresh ditch for us within¡¯ spitting distance over yonder.¡± Thamos gestured off just behind a nearby ledge.

    Mar sat back down. Thamos seemed determined to stick by his side. He probably felt responsible for the inexperienced young sailor assigned to him. As touching as it was, Mar needed to go back and look for Jinn, and he wouldn¡¯t be able to do that with Thamos clinging to him. He needed to give the old sailor the slip.

    Mar had noticed that Thamos did tend to fall asleep a lot, especially after drinking heavy and getting some exercise. Maybe he could tire the old man out.

    ¡°Alright. I suppose I could spend some quality time with the rest of the crew¡­¡± Mar said hesitantly.

    Thamos clapped him on the back and stood up off the bench they were sitting on, grabbing Mar¡¯s arm to haul him closer to the fire with the rest of the sailors.

    There was much hollering, swearing, and swaggering. It was all pretty much what he¡¯d seen sailors do in the tavern at Yvast.

    ¡°I swear, her tits were the size of watermelons!¡± Said Hans to Porky.

    ¡°Bunk I say to that. A girly with tits that big would fall right over on her face any time she tried to stand up.¡± Porky replied.

    ¡°Hey fellas.¡± Hans waved his hands around to the other sailors. ¡°Ya¡¯ know I ain¡¯t a liar. Thamos, you¡¯ve been with the ship longer than any of us. You musta¡¯ been there when we took port in Barsova. Remember those tavern wenches?¡± Hans said with a leery grin.

    Thamos shrugged. ¡°At my age a bottle of rum warms my bed better than a woman. Was probably out cold by then.¡±

    ¡°You know, that¡¯s what this place is really lackin¡¯. Good tavern wenches.¡± Porky remarked.

    ¡°I know what you mean, Porky.¡± Hans nodded drunkenly. ¡°I know what you mean. But say, lookie at that one there. She ain¡¯t half bad.¡± Hans gestured towards one of the local girls, who was busy putting out another set of freshly poured mugs from the barrel of local ale that they were currently drinking. She looked up as Hans gestured towards her.

    ¡°She¡¯s passed this way ¡®least a dozen times now. And she¡¯s looked at me nigh each time.¡± Hans winked. ¡°I think she likes me. Maybe I should go try my luck?¡± Hans slurred as he tried to stand up, but Porky put a hand on his shoulder.

    ¡°That¡¯s the liquor talkin¡¯, Hans. Ya¡¯ know the captain¡¯s orders about harassin¡¯ the locals.¡± Porky pulled Hans back into his seat.

    ¡°Aww, bugger the captain. Where is he anyhow? Why ain¡¯t he drinkin¡¯ with his crew?¡± Interrupted one of the newer sailors.

    ¡°That¡¯s mutineers talk, Boris.¡± Hans interrupted. ¡°The captain¡¯s hard at work, gettin¡¯ us a good price on fermented fish and whatnot.¡±

    ¡°Fermented crab.¡± Thamos interrupted. ¡°Fermented fish is what you¡¯re drinkin¡¯.¡±

    Several of the sailors looked at their tankards with bug-eyed expressions. Thamos burst out laughing.

    ¡°Ha! Got ya there! Goes to show you young lads are all about drinkin¡¯ and not about tastin¡¯! No, this brew is still made with barley and hops. Only a tiny bit of fish. For flavor and whatnot.¡±

    The surrounding sailors breathed a sigh of relief and took another sip of their drinks.

    ¡°Ha, almost had be for a second there, Thamos.¡± Porky remarked. ¡°But I know my drink well enough to know when you¡¯re screwin¡¯ around. Still, if there¡¯s one man who can drink nearly as much as me, it¡¯s you.¡±

    ¡°Nearly? Lad, I¡¯ve drunk entire larders dry on more than one trip. Twas what got me kicked off the first three ships I sailed on.¡±

    Hans rolled his eyes. ¡°And ever since ya¡¯ started bringing your own larder with ya¡¯?¡±

    ¡°Darn right.¡± Thamos remarked as he took another sip.

    Mar had mostly sat quiet, watching and observing, but he sense an opportunity here.

    ¡°But that still doesn¡¯t answer the question. Who on the Hidden Gem can drink the most?¡± Mar said in questioning voice.

    Thamos turned glared at Mar with one eye. ¡°Lad, you don¡¯t want to go that route. Last ti¡ª¡±

    ¡°Come now, old man. The kid asked a solid question. Maybe we should have ourselves a little contest?¡± Porky grinned.

    Thamos held up a hand. ¡°I prefer to take my drink slow, over the course of a whole night. Drinkin¡¯ it all at once just spoils the fun.¡±

    ¡°Aww, Thamos. The captain¡¯s payin¡¯ for all this. You might as well drink up.¡± Hans said.

    Thamos turned his glare to Hans. ¡°Captin Rollie isn¡¯t payin¡¯ for this. It¡¯s commin¡¯ out of all our shares. A cut from the final profits, same as always.¡±

    Hans waved a hand, dismissing Thamos¡¯s statement as minor details. ¡°Same thing. He¡¯s got the biggest share, so he¡¯s payin¡¯ the most for it.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, what''s the captain need all that coin for anyhow? He never drinks or whores or anythin¡¯.¡± Said Boris.

    Porky leaned in and spoke in a conspiratorial whisper. ¡°I hear he likes to visit that place in the mountains, off to the west. The Dark Tower they call it. Spooky.¡±

    ¡°Wasn¡¯t that place that was filled with goblins and orcs and whatnot? And somethin¡¯ about an evil sorcerer?¡± Hans asked.

    Porky nodded. ¡°It was. ¡®Till a couple years ago when seven brave heroes, plus some kid, stormed the tower and killed the Overlord. The minions scattered and the tower crumbled, but word is that it¡¯s being rebuilt.¡±

    ¡°Bah. Just a made up story that keeps foreigners away while the locals loot it dry. I heard it was filled to the brim with riches back in the day.¡± Thamos stated with a wave of his tankard. ¡°It¡¯s what I¡¯d do if I had a freshly vacated castle nearby. Even after lootin¡¯ all the coin and magical artifacts there¡¯s still valuable stuff in a castle. Hells, even the stones can be sold if they¡¯re cut well and ya¡¯ can move ¡®em.¡±

    Porky shrugged. ¡°I dunno. I¡¯ve been hearin¡¯ a lot about rovin¡¯ bands of goblins all headed in the same direction. Maybe the Dark Tower¡¯s got a new Overlord.¡±

    ¡°And what? Ya¡¯ think the captains bankrolling an evil army?¡± Thamos laughed. ¡°We make good coin, but not that much coin.¡±

    As much as Mar despised shallow conversations, he needed to find a way to turn the conversation back towards drinking. He stood up and walked over to the two barrels of alcohol, against which one of the local girls was leaning. The brewer''s daughter probably. She was pouring out the alcohol for everyone, keeping careful eyes on how much the crew drank, counting coins in her head.

    ¡°Hello there.¡± Mar said to her.

    The girl rolled her eyes. ¡°Not interested. Too small for me.¡±

    ¡°What?¡± Mar asked in confusion. The village girl glanced up and down Mar¡¯s admittedly shorter than average frame. Her eyes lingered on his trousers for a second, eyebrows raised.

    ¡°Oh.¡± Mar understood what she meant. ¡°No, I¡¯m not propositioning you. I need a favor.¡±

    The girl crossed her arms. ¡°That sounds an awful lot like a proposition from where I¡¯m standing.¡±

    Mar smiled disarmingly. ¡°Not that kind of proposition.¡± Mar pulled out three silver denarii. The girl''s eyebrows rose further.

    ¡°I¡¯ll have you know I¡¯m not that ki-¡±

    Mar interrupted her with a wave of his hands. ¡°I want you to replace my drinks with water from here on out.¡±

    It was the girls turn to be confused. Mar realized he¡¯d need to weave a bit of a story.

    ¡°It¡¯s an embarrassing tale really.¡± Mar shook his head sadly. ¡°Last time we were in port I drank with the crew, but I was feeling a bit sick so I ended up collapsing after just one drink. Since then I¡¯ve gotten lots of laughable nicknames like feather-guts and little-princess. The only way I¡¯ll ever live it down is if I drink those three under the table tonight.¡±

    ¡°Ahh.¡± The girl relaxed. ¡°I can do that. Pure water won¡¯t work though. You won¡¯t have any head to it. I can think of a way to pull off what you¡¯re thinking of¡­ but it¡¯s more than a bit of extra work on my part. Plus my pa¡¯ will kill me if he finds out I watered down his booze.¡±

    Mar held up the three silver denarii.

    The girl reclined against the barrels. ¡°Don¡¯t know. Still feeling kind of lazy tonight.¡±

    Mar sighed and pulled out two more silver denarii. There went his thoughts of buying more crystals.

    The girl quickly snatched up the offered coins. She walked a few paces away, only to return with a large bucket. ¡°Freshly boiled water, so you don¡¯t get the runs.¡± She grabbed Mar¡¯s tankard, pouring out most of the liquid into a fresh cup without spilling a drop. Then she added water, bringing the freshly poured tankard up most of the way. Then she poured a splash of fresh beer into another cup from the barrel in such a way that it foamed vigorously, which she then scraped off and stuck on top of Mar¡¯s drink. ¡°You just get your friends drinkin¡¯. I¡¯ll do the rest.¡± She said with a wink.

    Mar picked up his drink and wandered back over to Thamos and the others. They were still talking about Gavica and goblin Overlords and whatnot. He took a long slow sip from his tankard.

    ¡°How much of this stuff do you think it takes to get drunk?¡± Mar asked the assembled group of sailors.

    Porky glanced at Mar with a grin. ¡°That¡¯s the spirit, kid. If you¡¯re a sober sailor at port you¡¯re doin¡¯ the job wrong.¡±

    ¡°For a lightweight like you?¡± Boris commented. ¡°I¡¯d say two tankards. Me? I could drink this stuff all night and not feel a thing.¡±

    Mar took another sip from his cup. ¡°Is that a challenge?¡± He asked, intentionally slurring his words a little, as if the alcohol was starting to affect him.

    ¡°Baha! Looks like the kid really wants to start a drinking competition. Well I¡¯ll play.¡± Hans smiled as he picked up his tankard.

    Thamos mumbled something about a waste of good ale, but he smiled slightly anyway.

    ¡°Fine. I suppose I might as well drink the kid into the ground. Let¡¯s do this.¡± Porky announced. He waved over to the village girl, who poured out sixteen tankards of ale and placed them on the large stump that was serving as the group¡¯s table.

    ¡°Alright, so four each?¡±

    Thamos waved his hand. ¡°You young ¡®uns can drink yourselves into the dirt if you want. I¡¯ll take my time, thanks.¡±

    ¡°Aw, come on Thamos. I thought we were finally gunna put your stomach to the test and see if you really can drink as much as ya¡¯ say ya¡¯ can.¡± Porky taunted.

    Thamos started waving his hand to refuse again, but Mar gave him a disappointed look.

    Finally Thamos relented. ¡°Alright. Suppose I¡¯ve got a title to uphold. I¡¯ll have ya¡¯ know I¡¯m already four drinks in though, not countin¡¯ what I had on the ship.¡±

    There were laughs all around the table. Hans lead the countdown, when they reached zero, everyone lifted their tankards high and began to drink. Mar gulped his cup of mostly-water as quickly as the rest of them, immediately starting on his next drink.

    Second drinks were gulped down as fast as the first, but by the third one everyone except Mar had started slowing down.

    ¡°Pace yourself lad, you¡¯ll poison yourself.¡± Hans said cautiously.

    ¡°Hans is right. I¡¯ve seen bigger boys than you fall keel over because they were tryin¡¯ to impress their friends in a tavern.¡±

    Thamos glanced at Mar once, but quickly turned his attention to Mar¡¯s cup, which he gave a hard stare.

    Mar put down his tankard. ¡°I¡¯ll be fine.¡± He said with a challenging grin.

 Clear Skies and Shining Seas 7

    Mar was gulping down his fourth cup of water when he had to force himself to slow down. Boris dropped his cup to the stump with a thud.

    ¡°Too much for me.¡± The man said with a burp. ¡°I¡¯m calling it quits. Unlike you lot I¡¯m on deck first thing in the morning.¡±

    ¡°Smart of you.¡± Hans said, putting his cup down. ¡°I¡¯m not done drinking, but competitions are bad for my health. You can consider me out as well.¡±

    Porky glanced at the two drop outs, and then back to his hand, which was swaying slightly with his cup. He glanced back and forth between Mar and Thamos.

    Mar of course, having been drinking water, was mostly unaffected. Thamos was also unparsed due to his many years of building up an incredibly high tolerance.

    As he finished off his sixth cup, Mar was beginning to worry. Thamos seemed none the worse for ware and his drinking ability was beginning to seem highly suspicious. Not that that mattered. Mar just needed to ditch the old sailor for a bit. Once they were safely back on the ship he could reveal the little trick he¡¯d pulled off with the help of the village girl. They¡¯d be mad at him but he could play it off as a prank to impress them.

    Then Mar noticed some whispering by the barrels. An older man with gray hairs in his otherwise black beard hissed something in the girl¡¯s ears. Despite some initial protests, she packed up all the cups that weren¡¯t in use and started carrying them into the nearest building. Several more townsfolk could be seen gathering in the distance, many of them still equipped with makeshift weapons from their fight with the insect.

    The bearded townsman approached their table with a new round of drinks.

    ¡°Drink up. Rounds on me.¡± He said coldly before retreating to stand back with the growing crowd of onlookers. Mar swished the liquid in his tankard back and forth. This drink was flat unlike the ale. He took a small taste. That wasn¡¯t water. In fact, if he wasn¡¯t mistaken, this was brandy rather than ale, and a strong batch at that.

    ¡°Somethin¡¯ is wrong.¡± Thamos commented.

    ¡°I¡¯ll say. Free brandy? These townies musta¡¯ never seen a proper drinkin¡¯ competition before!¡± Porky slurred as he took small sips from the new tankard in front of him.

    Thamos shook his head. ¡°I¡¯d hope this town woulda¡¯ been smart enough¡­ I think it¡¯s time to call it quits boys. Let¡¯s head back to the ship.¡±

    First Mate Jimson leaned over from the other table, which hosted most of the rest of the crew. ¡°C¡¯mon now Thamos! We can¡¯t leave so soon. Not until the fermented crab is loaded at least.¡± His eyes darted to the townsfolk as well though and narrowed in suspicion. The cheerless manner in which the bearded man had delivered their drinks had done nothing to alleviate their suspicions.

    Before any more discussion could break out, Captain Rollie burst out of a nearby building, walking to the center of the small glade where his crew was enjoying himself.

    ¡°Ah, Captain! Come to drink with the crew after all?¡± Porky raised his cup shakily.

    This was the first time Mar had seen the captain up close. He was shorter than Mar thought.

    ¡°Captain.¡± First Mate Jimson gave a salute and stood up. ¡°I thought you were staying in the mayor¡¯s home tonight.¡±

    ¡°Change of plans.¡± Captain Rollie hissed in a surprising hoarse voice. ¡°Pack your things and board the ship.¡±

    First Mate Jimson furrowed his brows in confusion. ¡°But the crab¡­¡±

    ¡°Those are my orders Jimson. Gather everyone up. We¡¯re leaving, now.¡±

    Jimson gave a military salute. ¡°You heard the captain, time to get moving! Everyone sober enough to walk, lend a hand to those that aren¡¯t.¡±

    There was a round of harsh complaints all around, but First Mate Jimson silenced the descenders with glare and the promise that anyone who didn¡¯t get themselves on the ship would be left behind.

    Several sailors downed the last drops of their cups, including Thamos. Mar didn¡¯t touch his, and neither did Porky, who was standing up from the table unsteadily.

    Mar glanced at the sailors stumbling towards the ship, and then back to the nearby woods. After a moment of hesitation, Mar made his decision. He¡¯d hate to lose his place aboard the ship, but with Jinn he could continue to learn magic.

    From here the gathering townsfolk were becoming more noticeable. Many of them had angry expressions on their faces, and some were holding weapons. He just needed to make a quick trip to that part of the forest where he fell. If he ran there and back he could return before the ship left.

    Mar broke into a jog, running to the left. This was the same path he¡¯d taken earlier so he could run the route even in the fading light. Luckily most of the villagers had congregated on the other side of the glade, adjacent to the town, so Mar was able to pass through this wooded area without running into any potentially hostile villagers.

    He came across the area where the townsfolk caught the beetle. As he expected there was nothing there. Even the insect¡¯s corpse had been bundled up and hauled away. The bloodstone and the amethyst would have both been collected if they had been found, but when inactive, Jinn was a simple gray stone.

    Mar continued his jog, making his way towards the small alcove where he had practiced magic. Almost immediately upon entering the alcove, Mar¡¯s eyes spotted Jinn lying untouched right in the center of an otherwise cleared area on the ground.

    He walked over to pick the stone up.

    ¡°That¡¯s far enough, vile one.¡± Hissed a menacing voice. Mar felt something sharp pressing against the back of his neck.

    ¡°You think I wouldn¡¯t notice a warlock¡¯s totem when I saw it? I served on The Wall, little dark mage.¡±

    Mar held up his hands in a nonthreatening gesture while he slowly turned his head towards his attacker. It was Goodman Varns, the man who had killed the beetle.

    ¡°Your name is Goodman Varns, right? Look, I don¡¯t know what you¡¯re talking about, but I came here earlier to get away from the noise for a moment and I think I dropped my coin pouch. If you just give me a minute to look for it I¡¯ll be on my w-¡±

    ¡°Keep your forked tongue behind your teeth, demon whisperer!¡± The Goodman hissed viciously. ¡°I¡¯ll not have any of it.¡±

    It seemed lies wouldn¡¯t help him here. Perhaps the truth would.

    ¡°Look, Goodman Varns, you¡¯re protective of your village. I¡¯m sorry you were attacked by that monster. After this I¡¯m headed directly towards the ship. After I board I am leaving and plan to never set eyes on this place again.¡±

    The Goodman snorted. ¡°Do you really thing I¡¯m going to simply let evil slip through my fingers? If I let you go now you¡¯ll go on to cause a hundred more such tragedies before you¡¯re finally put down. The Wall was built to stop creatures like you.¡±

    Goodman Varns wasn¡¯t willing to see reason, but perhaps Mar could keep him talking for just a little while longer. Long enough to work a bit of magic. Mar shifted into mage sight as he slowly turned around to face the Goodman. Sure enough, he still had the bloodstone in his pocket. It wasn¡¯t inside his body, but perhaps it was close enough.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know what you¡¯re talking about, but I swear I will play no part in any deaths that I can help. I care abou-¡±

    Goodman Varns interrupted with a snort that was even louder than before. ¡°You care? I saw how you glanced at Harnold¡¯s broken body. He was my friend! And you dismissed him like a piece of meat! All you dark mages are the same. Your foul power corrupts your soul until there is no goodness left! That is why you are an abomination that must be extinguished!¡±

    Mar was about to say something in reply when the meaning of the Goodman¡¯s words hit him. He hadn¡¯t thought twice about the dead villager, had he? Even after he had struggled so hard to save the child¡­

    ¡°Your son, the chubby one. I drew the beetle¡¯s attention away from him. He would have died if not for me.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll believe that when Mivira, goddess of justice, pops out of a pig¡¯s rear and tells me so. Now, it¡¯s time for you to die. May your soul be cleansed in the fires of hell!¡± Goodman Varns brought back his axe. His feet sank into the same position they had been in when he had struck the final blow against the beetle. It was obviously a practiced move.

    ¡°I don¡¯t think so.¡± Mar whispered in reply as he formed the final threads of the spirit magic connecting him to the villager. He unleashed a torrent of spirit mana through his body, coursing down the line of power that drifted delicately through the air between him and the Goodman Varns, who had leapt off the ground, axe raised high.

    Mar tried to dodge to the left, but even the tiny glimpse of the Goodman¡¯s spiritual form with mage sight had left him with a pounding headache and slowed reaction time. He wasn¡¯t going to be able to dodge that blow. He channeled more magic down the thread of mana. His senses gave off the distinct scent of something burning in the air.

    ¡°Blast!¡± Mar hissed out the trigger word for the only spell he knew, aiming for the wrist that held the felling axe descending towards his head. He threw every bit of mana he could muster into the spell, knowing that this might be the difference between life and death.

    ¡°Blast!¡±

    ¡°Blast!¡±

    Mar repeated the spell twice more. His gambit proved somewhat effective, as his spell robbed Goodman Varns of his dexterity. The axe twisted out of alignment in his hands, so that it struck Mar¡¯s shoulder partially on the flat. None the less, the blow was still immensely powerful and it knocked Mar off his feet. He heard the distinct sound of cracking bone and his arm bent unnaturally at the joint.

    He felt an immense pain, but it was strangely distant. As if he were merely an observer looking in on someone in pain.

    Goodman Varns was also thrown to the ground, though for different reasons. He clutched at his side and his veins popped along his body, his skin turning a sickly gray.If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    ¡°What¡­ what is this!?¡± The Goodman demanded. ¡°What manner of wicked sorcery is this!¡± He sputtered and coughed weakly.

    Mar tried to struggle to his feet, but his arm twisted and bent, completely unfeeling and unable to so much as twitch it. He was certain the real pain would come at any moment, but it never did. He turned his attention to the Goodman, who¡¯s condition was rapidly deteriorating. He was bloating like the beetle had, changing color and parts of his body growing unnaturally with one half of him far larger than the other.

    The Goodman shook himself, trying to ignore the twisting agony that his transformation must have been causing him, reaching for his axe, which looked pitiful small in his grotesquely enlarged hands. He started stumbling towards Mar.

    If he had been reacting normally to his shattered shoulder he probably would have been in too much pain to notice the lumbering figure, but his strangely detached state of mind brought the threat to his attention. Mar desperately attempted to put the connecting thread of mana between them back together before the Goodman figured out how to move in his changing body.

    Varns started lumbering towards Mar on all fours. He wasn¡¯t even recognizable as human now. Puss was leaking from large orifices all over his body. Bone poked out like spikes along his spine and an extra mouth had formed near his throat. His expanding head had twisted his left eye around so that it stood lengthwise along the center of his face. It was grotesque.

    Mar managed to reattach the tread of mana to the bloodstone, which was throbbed with power eve in mundane sight now. Mar opened his entire aura to it, desperately dumping in mana as fast as it would leave him.

    This time Varns must have realized that it was the bloodstone that was allowing Mar to work magic on him. He clutched at his side, but his hands were too big to fit inside the pockets of the clothes that now only dangled on his body.

    Mar reached to his belt pouch with his good arm, where he had all the other crystals. Just as what once had been Goodman Varns managed to toss his old clothes away Mar threw the fistful of crystals. Most bounced off the creatures hide but one of them clung to a puss-filled orifice. Mar focused on that one, rebuilding his connection.

    The creature let out an inhuman scream as Mar dumped more mana into it, desperate finish it before it finished him. He began to feel his ability push out mana starting to fade. His mana pool was nearly empty. Mar desperately squeezed out the last few drops of mana from his aura.

    Just as he ran out of power, there was a low-pitched rumbling sound, and the distinct note of a crystal shattering. In a thunderous boom, the abomination that had once been Goodman Varns exploded violently, coating the surrounding area in puss and brimstone-colored blood.

    Mar struggled to his feet, cradling his ruined arm in his good one. He took a moment to wipe the goop from his eyes with his elbow, and stooped over to pick up Jinn, which he brushed off and stuck in his pocket.

    The strange feeling of being a bystander hadn¡¯t faded, but Mar wasn¡¯t eager to see it leave. He knew he¡¯d act irrationally if he came to his senses, so whatever was allowing him to remain so detached was a good thing. He looked around, but the only crystal he could see was the one that was still buried in the creature¡¯s orifice. He picked that one out of the pile of goop and rubbed it off on his jacket, sticking it with Jinn in his pocket. It was time to head back to the ship.

    The moment he gathered his things mar left the little glade. He wanted to job all the way back to the ship but his left ankle wouldn¡¯t move properly, and any rapid pace tugged on Mar¡¯s ruined arm, that seemed to only remain connected to him by a few bits of ruined flesh. The strangely calm portion of his mind realized he had to be gentle with it or risk losing the limb entirely, though it seemed unlikely he would ever be able to use it properly again.

    Mar was halfway back to the ship when he began to feel a slight tingling sensation in his arm. Now that he recognized it, he felt as though he had been frozen in ice, body and mind. That ice was thawing now, and with it came unwelcome thoughts.

    He¡¯d just killed somebody. Murdered him with magic. He was also indirectly responsible for that other villager¡¯s death. And yet for some reason he¡¯d felt nothing at the time. Even now he felt numb to it all. Mar had always considered himself as someone who conducted themselves with honor, and abided by the law. So why was he so unbothered by it now? Perhaps he was still in shock? No¡­ that wasn¡¯t it.

    Now that he thought about it, this icy feeling was just like what he had felt in the spirit realm. He felt detached from himself, an observer in his own skin.

    Magic. That was the answer. Both times he¡¯d been channeling huge amounts of his own mana. Mar had heard of fire mages getting angry in the midst of battle, and water mages achieving a state of serenity and one-ness. Untrained air mages might even become so carefree they forget about the battlefield entirely.

    Perhaps this spirit mana that he wielded was similar in that regard. Perhaps using too much of it effected his mind, stifling his emotions. He would need to ask Jinn about it later.

    The pain grew as Mar trudged along, analyzing himself. His arm was a mess of agony, and his foot began to heart as well, slowing him down further as his body began to demand his attention. He¡¯d been able to ignore the feelings earlier but the mystical dissonance effect faded he found himself less and less able to resist the overwhelming pain.

    Just need to get to the ship. Once he was on board he could sail somewhere far away. There next stop was in a city. There would be physickers there, maybe even a flesh mage. Just had to get to the ship.

    Finally, Mar broke through the line of houses. Luckily, he hadn¡¯t run into any of the townsfolk yet, because if he did they would surely detain him at the very least. And when they found Jimson¡¯s affects littered about the remains of that monster in the woods¡­ it¡¯s unlikely he would live much longer than that.

    The pain continued to grow, slowing Mar¡¯s pace now. His balance was beginning to grow uneasy and blood rushed out of his head to his wounds. He was beginning to feel lightheaded and he knew that if he fell he likely wouldn¡¯t be able to stand up again. He had to get to the docks.

    His hopes were crushed when he was able to see the docks through blurry eyes. There were three dozen torches lighting up the whole length of the wooden structure, the glimmer of iron tools being brandished could be seen in the reflected light. They were gesturing angrily at the spot where The Hidden Gem had been moored just minutes ago. But it was no longer tied up there. Instead, it was floating out at sea, outlined by the reflected light of the lazy moon, which dangled low in the horizon.

    They¡¯d left without him.

    Mar fell to his knees by the sandy shoreline. The numbness that had protected his sanity had left him now, leaving his body a seething mass of pain and his mind a writhing pit of turmoil and uncertainty. He tried to reach into his aura and draw some magic out, but he¡¯d used every drop he¡¯d had.

    The chill of the evening air swept over him as Mar sagged to the ground. His breathing had grown uneasy, gaining a sloshing wet sound to it. Not good. Mar remembered from his readings that such a sound was a sign of blood spilling into his lungs. That was a bad way to go, drowned in his own fluids.

    The blowing breeze carried the scent of burning pitch to him. He rolled his unfocused eyes in their direction and realized that the townsfolk were marching towards him, baring torches. Was he going to die here? He could feel the blood draining from his head, his vision growing red and hazy, stars blinking in and out across his blurry eyes. He¡¯d lose consciousness any second now.

    Mar felt vibrations next to his head. Somebody was stepping near him.

    ¡°¡­by the gods, the townsfolk really did a number on him¡­¡± was that Thamos?

    ¡°For good reason. I suspected as much when Krellak told me of him¡­ I know of a place where his kind knows safety.¡±

    ¡°¡­Pick up his legs and help me get him in the boat. We¡¯ll need to row hard to catch up with the ship.¡±

    Mar awoke with a groan. Everything ached.

    He tried to sit up, and was surprised to find that he could. Mar pried his eyes open through an effort of will, though his body desperately wanted more rest.

    He was swinging in his hammock, in the ship again. He must have made it to the docks after all. That didn¡¯t seem right though¡­ the last thing he could remember was somebody picking him up. Somebody must have come back for him. Thamos, judging by the voice. Mar would need to find a way to repay the old sailor. There had been somebody else as well though, but Mar couldn¡¯t recognize the voice.

    He reached over to his left arm with his right. It was still painfully sore, but feeling under his tunic it felt normal. He found that he could move it as well, though it protested greatly at his use. Mar continued running his good hand up and down his body, touching every aching part. Everything seemed accounted for. It seemed they hadn¡¯t needed to amputate anything.

    Still, he should not have been able to make such a miraculous recovery. Not without the help of a skilled surgeon and three months of bed rest. Or a flesh mage.

    Mar was fairly certain it hadn¡¯t been three months, so that meant that he had been healed by magic. But who? If there was a flesh mage, skilled enough with water magic to manipulate the fluids inside living tissues to accelerate healing, there was surely more lucrative pursuits for than than the life of a sailor.

    Mar furrowed his brow as he considered the mystery, letting his mind try to puzzle through it until he drifted back to sleep.

    It must have been several hours later when he woke back up. Someone was pouring something down his throat. It was too thick to be water, like a runny soup.

    Mar sputtered and coughed up the small volume of liquid.

    ¡°Boss! You alive!¡± came a jubilant voice.

    Mar opened his eyes and saw Grob¡¯s familiar green visage. ¡°Grob¡­ it¡¯s you. How long was I out?¡±

    ¡°The sun goes up and goes down one hand of times. I count it like you teach me.¡±

    Five days then. That confirmed the notion that magic had been used in his recovery. His body still ached all over but he had some energy to him now.

    ¡°Your goblin friend was lookin¡¯ after you day and night while you were out.¡±

    Mar glanced over his shoulder. It was Thamos sipping from a flask.

    ¡°The man Thamos help me a lot, boss! He finds me soup and water and showed me what to do!¡±

    Mar glanced at the both. ¡°Thank you Grob. I shall have to find a proper reward for you.¡±

    The goblin beamed at the praise.

    ¡°And you, Thamos.¡± Mar continued. ¡°I need to find a way to properly thank you.¡±

    Thamos waved his hand. ¡°I just gave the goblin a few pointers. It was nothin¡¯ really.¡±

    Mar shook his head. ¡°Not that, for picking me up off shore and rowing me back to the ship.¡±

    Thamos raised an eyebrow. ¡°You were awake for that? I was certain you were out cold.¡±

    ¡°I remember enough to know I have you to thank. Those villagers¡­ I don¡¯t know what got them so upset, but judging by what the last one did to me, I think that if the mob had gotten to me I wouldn¡¯t be sitting here.¡±

    Thamos took another sip from his flask. ¡°Thank the captain, not me. He¡¯s the one who spotted you on the shore line. He rowed the boat himself to come pick you up. Don¡¯t know why. Ya¡¯ haven¡¯t been payin¡¯ the captain night time visits or somethin¡¯ have you?¡± Thamos joked.

    Mar ignored the jibe and just puzzled over the new piece of information. The captain hadn¡¯t even spoken to him directly since he¡¯d taken a position on the ship. Why go so far out of his way to save him?

    Suddenly Thamos got serious. ¡°Mar¡­ be straight with me.¡±

    Mar glanced up at the serious tone in Thamos¡¯ voice.

    ¡°You¡¯re a mage, right? And not just any mage. A mage of the Black.¡±

    Mar was unfamiliar with the term, but judging by the expression on Thamos¡¯ face Mar wasn¡¯t really expected to answer.

    ¡°Now I don¡¯t expect you to tell me one way or another, but you should know that the ruins of old Reme, beyond the Wall, isn¡¯t just for hordes of mindless undead. More than one mage has sought research in solitude there.¡± Thamos put down his flask as he looked Mar in the eyes.

    ¡°Dark need not be evil Mar. Mages aren¡¯t understood, and people fear what they don¡¯t understand. And mages aren¡¯t understood throughout most of the world. Places like Orlem and the League of Free cities being the exception. And even there you can find types of magic hated and feared. They call dark mages monsters and abominations. Just promise me that you won¡¯t become what they say.¡±

    Mar didn¡¯t know what to say, so after a long pause he nodded. ¡°Okay.¡±

    Thamos seemed to visibly relax. He picked up his flask again and took a sip. He offered it to Mar who took a tiny sip, which he coughed back up. Thamos drank some potent stuff.

    ¡°Ha! I knew you were faking that little stunt with the ale! What¡¯d you do, bribe the serving girl? How much did she charge you?¡±

    ¡°Three silver.¡± Mar admitted.

    Thamos whistled. ¡°Ya got scammed lad. Still, you¡¯d best run off and apologize to Boris, Hans, and Porky. Porky in particular was sick for three days after that little drinking competition. He¡¯s still feeling sore over it.

    Mar agreed that he¡¯d patch things up and make up for the killer hangover he¡¯d caused his fellow sailor.

    ¡°Good lad. Now, you feeling well enough to come up top with me? We should have a proper port town in our sights some time today. Hopefully this time we won¡¯t be chased out by an angry mob.¡± Thamos joked.

    Mar climbed out of the hammock and headed up top with Thamos.

 Black Sails 1

    Skallyport was a pirate town. There was no other way to describe it. When Mar had read about outlaw sailors with wooden peg-legs and hooks for hands he¡¯d thought that ocean-weary sailors must have exaggerated tales of these bandits of the sea, but apparently there was more than a kernel of truth to the tales.

    They a unique crowd, many of them dressed in fine coats and tunics heavily laden with jewelry. Yet one glance at their hunched posture and aggressive swagger would tell any onlooker that these individuals were more accustomed to taproom fights than ballroom dances. They had the dress and finery of noblemen, but not the mannerisms.

    Mar wanted to avoid looking like some gawking foreigner, so he made sure to get as good a view of the city as he could while still on the ship, mentally constructing a map in his head from the lookout post aboard The Hidden Gem.

    Nearly all of the buildings were completely made of wood. The ground the town was built on was so rocky that digging would have been impossible, and putting together a stone foundation would have been a waste of time. Much of the town was sloppily built as well, though it didn¡¯t lack for luxuries like fine glass windows and locks on doors. Any goods that could be reasonably stolen on the seas were in abundance, but apparently all the skilled carpenters were too busy repairing ships to care about building houses. As a result, most of the buildings were hodgepodge shacks thrown together with scrap wood, with the odd professionally constructed building interspersed between.

    Mar reached into his pocket and pulled out the Warlock¡¯s Totem.

    ¡°Jinn. Wake up. I have some questions.¡±

    A dull red glow alit inside the stone as the consciousness that resided within slowly became more aware.

    <Ah, Mar. It seems you¡¯re feeling better after your little experiment session. How long has it been?>

    They¡¯d been sailing for over a week, though Mar had been unconscious for much of it. Since he¡¯d woken up he hadn¡¯t worked up the nerve to speak to the stone again. He thought back to the events in Crabhaven. He¡¯d become so cold and callous. He¡¯d killed people without a second thought. Maybe the mages were right. Perhaps spirit magic was intrinsically evil after all.

    ¡°I¡¯ll ask the questions, Jinn. What happened with the beetle? And that villager, Goodman Varns.¡±

    <If you recall my earlier lesson, you made that plant explode by forcing your mana into it.>

    ¡°Yes, but exploding and turning into a grotesque monster are two very different things.¡±

    <What you did for both the beetle and that human was expand the pattern beyond its existing framework, adding a sloppy mess of white mana, or spirit mana. You see, white mana isn¡¯t like the elemental magics. It doesn¡¯t have any power on it¡¯s own. It exists as the divide between elements. It¡¯s control manifest. Whether that means control over external senses or over preexisting elemental magics makes little difference.>

    Mar frowned in confusion. ¡°But how can that work? It seems to violate every law of magic I know. You can¡¯t just create power from nothing, and I only put spirit mana in there.¡±

    <In truth I¡¯m surprised you had as much success as you did. As for where the elemental mana came from when you only put in spirit mana, you happened to be in a heavily forested area, near a swamp and positively abundant with life. I¡¯m sure if you went back to Crabhaven and looked at the spot where you¡¯d been standing half the plants would be dead and withered, the ground covered in the corpses of insects and small animals. Mana tends to flow from high concentrations to low concentrations, especially relative to spirit mana, so when you threw a big lump of spirit mana into the beetle and the villager ambient mana was drawn towards them in huge quantities. Next time however I recommend picking what you¡¯re going to draw ambient mana from by ritualistically sacrificing them before you work magic. It¡¯s far faster and produces better results than that mess you made.>

    ¡°What do you mean, sacrifice?¡±

    <Well it¡¯s relatively easy to use the same technique you just worked yourself to make extremely fearsome and powerful creatures. Even a novice chimeromancer or necromancer can sacrifice a dozen humans and dump all the energy into a single body, thereby imbuing that single individual with the vitality of nearly thirteen humans, minus some waste. Before we perform the ritual on your own body I recommend first dumping the energy in a secondary vessel to homogenize it be->

    Mar narrowed his eyes. ¡°So that¡¯s why you didn¡¯t stop me. You¡¯ve been pushing me towards necromancy, and this chimeromancy you¡¯ve been mentioning. You wanted that to happen.¡±

    <Experience is the best teacher. Now that you have felt the power you no longer need to cling to these stupid human morals.>

    ¡°Morals are what hold a society together. If everyone thought like a demon no two people could work together without being cheated or murdered.¡±

    <Yes, quite.> If Jinn had eyes, Mar was certain he¡¯d be rolling them.

    ¡°I just want to learn magic. I don¡¯t want to start sacrificing virgins and summoning archdevils. And I¡¯m certainly not every going to summon you from what every corner of the abyss your true body calls home, if that was part of your plan..¡±

    <All in due time, young mage. But you had another question to ask me. You wanted to know what that feeling was. That sensation you felt when your mana flooded your body and coursed through your mind. The ability to think clearly for the first time in your short life. How beautiful it must have been!>

    Mar continued glaring at the stone, but he did acknowledge that that had been a question he¡¯d wanted to ask.

    <That is the attribute of white mana, and it¡¯s greatest benefit. While in it¡¯s embrace, you¡¯ll find yourself willing and able to make decisions most mortals would balk at. While wielding the white mana, your senses extend beyond your own body. You¡¯re so much greater than yourself you are able to view your own situation with complete objectivity. A useful skill I can assure you.>

    ¡°I don¡¯t like it.¡± Mar said. ¡°Is there any way to reduce the effect?¡±

    Jinn sighed. <Using smaller amounts of mana will lessen the mana¡¯s influence on your mental state. There are also weavings and spells that can be placed into your aura that can protect your mind, though they are advanced concepts that you aren¡¯t ready to learn.>

    Mar was going to insist that Jinn talk about them further when a call came up from down below.

    ¡°Mar! Time to earn your keep! Come on down here and get to writin¡¯! It¡¯s time to pay the crew!¡±

    That must have been First Mate Jimson. He had told Mar earlier that he¡¯d need the young scholars help calculating the pay for each member of the crew. Sadly it would be lower than normal, since they had only managed to bring in half a cargo hold of fermented crab. There would be some grumbling at that, but every sailor had seen the cold looks the villagers of Crabhaven had given them before they left. And more than one of them had seen the insect monster that had appeared from the forest. Though they might complain, they knew their captain had made the right call.

    ¡°Do you have any paper?¡± Mar asked.

    ¡°Paper¡¯s expensive lad. I think the captain¡¯s got a logbook, but I don¡¯t think he¡¯ll be wantin¡¯ you touchin¡¯ that.¡± Jimson replied. ¡°Just spit the numbers out for me.¡±

    ¡°Grob has paper!¡± the goblin leapt from foot to foot, holding out a several loose pages. Despite being made by the goblin himself, they of relatively high quality. Grob took papermaking seriously.You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

    Mar gratefully accepted the stack of pages, and the proffered quill and ink. The seagull feather was primitive compared to the dwarven pens he was used to writing with, but it would do.

    Looking for a table but not seeing one, Mar found a bucket and flipped it upside down, preparing it as a workstation as he sat down cross-legged in front of it. He then had Jimson recite each crew member''s name and allotted share, the ships expenses for food and supplies, and finally the final profit from the sale of the cargo.

    Mar sank himself into the familiar task of paper and pen. Soon he¡¯d filled the entire scrap of paper with a table of payout with each sailor''s name listed. Once they were finished with that Jimson took one glance at the paper and had Mar write down the profits and inventory as well.

    In his concentration, Mar didn¡¯t notice Captain Rollie walk over. His footsteps were always eerily quiet, so Mar was startled when he glanced up and noticed him there. The captain leaned down and picked up the piece of paper underneath Mar¡¯s hands.

    ¡°This is good work.¡± The captain commented. ¡°Meticioulus record keeping is essential to a mercantile enterprise.¡± The captain glanced at Jimson, who looked at the ground sheepishly. ¡°Perhaps I¡¯ll have you take over keeping my logbook.

    ¡°Ah, thank you captain." Mar said uneasily. He remembered how Thamos had told him how the captain had been the one to rescue him after his fight with Goodman Varns.

    Before Mar could respond, the captain tossed a small leather pouch at Mar. It hit his makeshift desk with a thud and the light ring of coins. Captain Rollie rolled the paper into a tube which he then stuck in his belt.

    ¡°There¡¯s a tavern in town. The Red Anchor. You can¡¯t miss it. It¡¯s got a giant rusty anchor in front. You¡¯ll find most of the crew is already there. Buy what you need from the shops, then come find me at the tavern. We should talk.¡±

    Talk? What was that about? From the tone in Captain Rollie¡¯s voice Mar didn¡¯t think this was just a friendly chat. Before he could respond either way the captain was gone. The captains approach and departure were so silent Mar felt almost like he wasn¡¯t there at all. What a strange man.

    ¡°Lad! Mar!¡± Thamos approached, taking a sip from his flask. "Got your pay? Then come ashore with me. I¡¯ll show you how a proper sailor wastes his coin in port!¡±

    Mar glanced back at First Mate Jimson, who nodded at him. ¡°Be back by high noon tomorrow. You can find a place to sleep in town or come back to the ship.¡±

    Mar and Thamos started heading down the gangplank and Mar took his first steps into Skallyport. It was his first time on land in a while and he nearly lost his balance when he felt the land swaying under him, like the deck of a ship.

    Thamos merely laughed at Mar¡¯s surprise. ¡°So ye finally got your sea legs, eh? Well now you need to get your land legs back! Don¡¯t worry about the swayin¡¯ feeling. It¡¯ll pass. I hardly even notice it anymore.¡±

    As they walked into Skallyport Mar stops and notices a familiar sight. A sleek, black ship with black sails is in port. The name The Winking Maiden is clearly visible on the side. That was the same ship he¡¯d seen in Yvast. He wondered if that orc he¡¯d spoken to before was in town.

    ¡°So what¡¯d you like to see first, lad?¡± Thamos asked Mar. ¡°I¡¯ve been to this town so many times I know it¡¯s streets like a local.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯d like to visit some shops. Buy some jewelry or something.¡± Mar had only been able to rescue a single crystal from his fight with Goodman Varns and if he wanted to practice more magic he¡¯d need to obtain more.

    ¡°Got a sweetheart back in Yvast, do ya?¡± Thamos raised his eyebrow but Mar shook his head.

    ¡°I imagine prices will be lower here, as I doubt the jewelry here was all obtained from completely legitimate sources. The prices will be lower, which means I can sell them at the next port we come across for a profit.¡±

    Thamos whistled. ¡°Now I can see why the captain likes you so much. You¡¯ve got a smugglers mindset! Keep it up and in a couple decades you¡¯ll have your own ship and crew.¡±

    Thamos lead the way down the muddy packed-dirt roads until eventually they came to a line of storefronts. Some were simple tables laid out on the edge of the street, whereas others were shops with signs and items on display. All had merchants of varying race and appearance beckoning potential customers forward to make a purchase.

    Mar only spotted a single open air stall that was selling jewelry. The merchant kept the wares closest to him on his table, peering at them occasionally, making sure they hadn¡¯t been stolen. He approached the stall and the merchant, whose eyes lit up when he saw a potential customer. ¡°How much for these?¡± Mar gestured to the merchant, who was a tall thin man with long hair and a cloth wrapped around his forehead.

    ¡°How much for those.¡± Mar asked, gesturing at several loose gemstones of varying quality.

    The merchant¡¯s eyes scanned Mar up and down, lingering for a moment on his full purse and young face. Mar saw where he was looking and moved his hand over his coin pouch.

    After his brief inspection, the merchant spoke with a wide smile. ¡°Ah, an excellent eye for wares you have young man. These lovely beauties are twenty dwarven golden krowns. Or seventeen gold denarii.

    ¡°Seventeen?¡± Mar asked in a huff. ¡°They aren¡¯t even cut or polished.¡±

    The merchant frowned, realizing that his prospective customer wasn¡¯t as young and naive as he¡¯d hoped. ¡°Ah, I¡¯m sorry young sir. I thought you meant for all my jewelry. For just these lovely little stones it¡¯ll cost you five gold denarii.¡±

    Mar untied the knot that held the coin pouch around his waist. He hefted the bag in his hand. ¡°I¡¯ve got a pouch full of coppers here, merchant.¡±

    The stall keeper looked like he wanted to haggle more, but just then Thamos walked up and the merchants eyes went wide.

    ¡°Thamos!¡± The merchant said in a surprised voice. ¡°I didn¡¯t think you¡¯d be back here anytime soon¡­¡±

    Thamos glared at the merchant. ¡°Borthis. Tryin¡¯ to scam the young lad out of his hard earned coin?¡±

    ¡°Ah, my apologies Thamos. I didn¡¯t realize that this young man was with you. We were just about to finish our transaction anyhow. Now, as I was saying, five gold denarii¡ª¡±

    Thamos snorted. ¡°I know you Borthis, and I know nothing on this table is worth five gold denarii. You still owe me from the game table last winter. Give the lad the gems for the price you paid and I won¡¯t tell the rest of the boys on my ship that I saw you.¡±

    Boris let out a slow sigh, but eventually nodded his head. In the end Mar was able to take about half the gems for only ten silver denarii.

    ¡°Thanks, Thamos.¡± Mar said appreciatively as the pair started walking away.

    ¡°Eh, couldn¡¯t let Borthis rob ya blind. He¡¯ll take every coin you¡¯ve got if you give him the chance.¡±

    ¡°I was told the crew was meeting tonight at some inn called the Red Anchor. Do you know where that is?¡± Mar asked.

    Thamos nodded affirmatively. ¡°I¡¯ve you¡¯re all done shoppin¡¯ we can head on back there. I bet Boris and Hans are already three drinks in by now.¡±

    Thamos lead them down several narrow passageways. Several local ruffians gave them dirty looks, eying Mar with predatory gazes. Thamos gave them each a glare though and they withered under his scrutiny. Soon enough they were in front of a two floor building with a rusty old anchor painted on a sign in front of it.

    ¡°Here we are, the Red Anchor. Don¡¯t sit down anywhere until I do. A lot of these seats are reserved.¡±

    As they opened the doors, Mar took note of the wooden structure. Much of the wood that made up the building seemed to have spent quite a bit of time in the water. The beam that ran through the center of the building above their heads looked suspiciously like a mast. It fit very well with the overtly nautical theme of Skallyport. Mar had no doubt that much of the wood used in the buildings construction had been scrap wood left over from the building or decommissioning of various ships.

    The seating arrangement was also very peculiar. The inn also served as a large tavern, and there were many tables distributed throughout the room with plenty of walking space between them. Most of the tables were positioned towards the sides of the building, with the center of the room relatively open. Perhaps a place for a musician to perform.

    Mar also noticed that customers were dispersed sporadically around the room. There were small groups of tables that were completely overflowing patrons, and other tables that were untouched.

    Thamos noticed Mar¡¯s gaze and gestured to one of the empty tables. ¡°That one''s for the Black Rat¡¯s crew. Nasty bunch. Their captain keeps a barrel full of starving rats around, and he¡¯s been know to lock the occasional mutinous crew member or raid victim inside for a night. By morning there¡¯s naught left but bones.

    Mar shivered slightly at the thought. The Black Rats sounded like a nasty bunch.

    ¡°We¡¯re not in this port long enough to claim a table, but the ones on the second floor are mostly unclaimed. At least they¡¯re not claimed by anyone important. We¡¯ll find the rest of the crew waiting for us up there.¡±

    Mar followed Thamos up the stairs, where he was greeted by familiar faces.

    ¡°There¡¯s the lad!¡± Said Boris with a grin. ¡°Now I believe we talked about a rematch?¡±

    Mar had already admitted to his little plot back in Crabhaven, and so Boris was eager to reclaim his pride as an alcoholic.

    ¡°I¡¯m afraid it won''t be much of a competition.¡± Mar said. ¡°I¡¯m not much of a drinker, and I¡¯ve already spent most of my coin.¡±

    Hans shook his head. ¡°What are you teaching the lad, Thamos? First lesson on being a sailor is to spend all your money at the brothel and tavern. Anythin¡¯ else is just a waste.¡±

    They all shared a good laugh as Mar and Thamos sat down. Mar smiled, as this was the first time he was really starting to feel like one of the crew.