The Jade Mage: The Becoming: Volume 1 (10 page)

It struck Isidor as odd, that the gold was glowing with such a dull light. He remembered the flash during their battle. The light that came from it had been far more intense. He was surprised it hadn’t blinded him permanently. A thought occured to him then.

“Say the word louder Tartum.” he said.

“LIGHT!” Tartum said, loudly.

The gold flared. The pull on Tartum’s magic was increased tenfold, and it staggered him. He wasn’t ready for it and almost shut off his connection to the source. Refocusing his will, Tartum held on. The gold was brillant. Brighter than any torch in the world, the light filled the wagon. It banished the shadows and turned darkness into day. It wasn’t as intense as during the battle with Isidor, but it was impressive none the less.

“Ok, ok! That’s enough, Tartum. Put it out!” Isidor said holding his arms up in front of his eyes. The memory of the temporary blindness was still too fresh in his memory to make this a comfortable experiance.

“Dark.” Tartum said, and the light went out. The pull on Tartum’s magic ceased, but it had taken its toll on him. Wearily, Tartum sat down.

“Incredible. Your staff uses you for its power. Or rather, it uses the magic flowing through you to power it. It’s, it’s, it’s...well, I don’t know what it is. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever seen. I never would have thought it was possible, if I hadn’t just seen it with my own eyes!” Isidor said more to himself than to Tartum.

Isidor had no reference for this kind of magic. He didn’t know if it was safe or if it was dangerous. He assumed the latter, because it was siphoning the magic out of the user. In a real battle, where you need all the magic you can muster, it could very easily get you killed.

“You must be careful with that enchantment, Tartum. Use it only when you need too. I don’t know how long it will last; it could last forever, or it could last another five seconds. I really don’t know. I think it’s permanent, as long as it has a source of magic to draw from. I can’t say for sure. If it works like I think it does the louder you say “
Light
” the more intense the gold with shine. However, the drain on your magic will also be greater. I’d be careful to control the intensity of how you say that word, when envoking the enchantment. As I’m sure you noticed, the draining can be quite debilitating.” Isidor said. He was worried about this magic getting Tartum killed.

Tartum was pleased with the analysis. His staff was now more powerful, and it was thanks to him. He could tell by his master’s face, it had him perplexed and the knowledge gave him an odd sense of pride. He began to feel like he was becoming his master’s equal. He was also beginning to feel like the drain from the enchantment wasn’t bothering him as much as it had at first. Tartum hoped, that with enough practice, the drain wouldn’t be as crippling, or better yet, that he wouldn’t notice it at all. He decided he would find out when Isidor wasn’t around. He had to know the limitations of not only his staff’s enchantment, but of himself as well. It was the only goal he cared about achieving. Power obtained through the mastery of all aspects of magic. His eyes blazed with the thought.

Isidor saw the look in Tartum’s eyes and knew he wouldn’t be sated with this new power. He would want more and more until eventually, it consumed him. There was nothing for it. Isidor just hoped he grew up before it was too late. Sighing he decided to end the subject.

“Well enough of this pointless pondering. Your staff is quite remarkable, yes, but also dangerous. Do what you will with that magic. Now leave me, I must rest, SOMEONE hit me in the ribs today, and I must heal. When I’m well enough, we will resume your magic training, as promised. Until then, no more enchanting. I don’t need my home to become some sort of flaming light to appease your ego.” Isidor jabbed. Despite everything, he was still very proud, and impressed, with his pupil.

“Yes master. Try not to snore to loud, you’ll wake the dead.” Tartum chuckled and left his area.

“I don’t snore, you bastard.” Isidor said, as sleep came to claim him.

Tartum walked over to his bed of pillows and sat down, looking over his spell book. He opened it to the page where the light enchantment was. There, in specific detail, were the exact components and quantites he had used to enchant his staff. At the bottom, in big bold letters, was a new word: “PERMANENT”.

Tartum didn’t understand why the page had changed or why it was so specific now, as opposed to before. He didn’t really care. He liked that his book updated itself to keep up with his accomplishments. With his spell book in one hand and his staff in the other, sleep took him.

On his side of the bedding area, Isidor was sound asleep, snoring loudly.

CHAPTER 7

Tartum was sitting in the back of the wagon. Isidor had rearranged a few crates to be used as a makeshift table and chairs. Some of Tartum’s bed pillows were on the crates that were intended to be used as chairs, and made them comfortable enough. He had no idea why he was there. He assumed it was for his renewed magic training, but what he couldn’t figure out, was what kind of magicial training required a table and chairs. He didn’t even bring his staff or his spell book. He’d been sitting there for twenty minutes. His patience was starting to wear thin.

The sound of clinking glasses caught Tartum’s attention, and he turned around to see what it was. Coming up from behind him, was Isidor. He was carrying, what looked to be, four small empty pots, a handful of quills, and an enormus stack of parchment. Tartum’s patience snapped.

“If you intend to teach me how to read and write, I already learned how years ago. Or has your memory failed you finally. I didn’t think you were
that
old, Isidor.” Tartum said, the irritation plain in his voice.

“Shut up you spoiled brat, and pay attention. Don’t you think I know you can read and write? Wasn’t I the one that taught you? Haven’t I taught you
everything
you know?” Isidor countered.

Tartum’s irratation was squashed by Isidor’s words now, he felt ashamed for his outburst, “Ok, ok, I’m sorry, Isidor, but you left me here waiting forever, and you’re being very mysterious. What do you plan to teach me?” Tartum said, his voice respectful once again.

“Just listen.” Isidor said. Now it was his turn to be irritated. Seeing Tartum was being quiet and looking at him expectantly, Isidor began. “As you know, casting spells takes a bit of preparation. The more powerful the spell, the more preparation it requires. This can be very tedious and life threatening to a caster, especially in a combat situation. Therefore, men far greater than you invented a way to stockpile their spells in the written word. Today, my boy, you begin your training in writing scrolls.” Isidor said, finishing the last part with a smile.

Tartum had never thought of the possibility of being able to stockpile his spells like this. The idea was intriguing. With nothing more than a case or two of scrolls, Tartum could cast his spells at will! It seemed to good to be true.

“Wait, if all we have to do is write our spells down on a scrap of paper, and then it just goes off, why don’t all casters do that, instead of going through all the gestures and carrying around all these hindering pouches full of components? It doesn’t make sense.” Tartum said.

“Good question. The thing about scrolls is that alot of casters
do
use them. Usually just for spells that require alot of cumbersome components like lead or steel. However, all the scroll really does is hold the words and the spell components. You still need to supply the magic and perform the gestures, required. Also, if something goes wrong when you recite the spell, while using the scroll, the results will be catastrophic. It could cause anything from a small explosion, to total burn out.” Isidor paused here to let that last part sink in. Tartum had to know this was serious and should be treated as such. Seeing the sick look in his eyes, Isidor nodded and continued.

“Also, scrolls may not be as cumbersome as multiple pouches of components, but they are still unwieldly, and if you have too many of them, you can become overwhelmed at trying to find the one you’re looking for. Also, in a fight for example, how many opponents are going to wait for you to search for the correct scroll you want, unfurl it, and then read from it? Point is, not every situation is fitting for scroll use. They do have their benefits though, and that’s why we use them. You can’t sit down and read my spell book. It wouldn’t open for you, and even if it did, you would have to spend time concentrating your magic into the book, until it deemed you worthy of whatever secrets it contained. If it ever did. Scrolls, on the otherhand, have no such loyalty. Scrolls are a way for a teacher to train his student new spells that he hasn’t figured out yet.” To prove this, Isidor produced a rolled up scroll and handed it to Tartum.

“This is a light globe spell. I wrote it down so that you could copy it. All the directions on how to cast the spell, and what’s required, is in the scroll. Also, it can be used, instead of your staff, if you need light. Consider it an alternative, once I’ve taught you how to make the spell in the scroll your own.” Isidor said, carefully. Tartum’s enchantment on his staff still terrified him, and he was researching, night and day, to figure out how Tartum did whatever the hells it was that he did.

If Tartum took offense to the comment, or even heard him, Isidor couldn’t tell. His full attention was on the scroll. Opening it slowly, he smoothed it out on top of the crate. It was glorious! Spells could be his in an instant, if he just found the scrolls! All that wasted time with the spell book! He couldn’t wait to get more.

“So where do we begin?” Tartum asked. His eyes never leaving the scroll.

Isidor smiled and placed an empty jar in front of him. Next, he pulled out a large bag of sand and filled the jar about half way with it. Then he opened himself to the magic. As it flowed into his being, he pulled out his small dagger and cut a deep wound into his finger. The blood started to flow immediately, and Isidor used it to fill the jar. Once the jar was full, Isidor sucked on his self inflicted wound, until the bleeding stopped. Covering the top of the jar with his palm, Isidor shook the contents until the blood and sand were well mixed together. Once this was done, he looked at Tartum with a smile.

“That’s lesson one. In order for the scroll to work for you, it must be
your
blood the ink is made with. You must fully open yourself to the source of magic, and only then do you fill the jar with your magically infused blood. The sand is the component that is required for this spell. For stronger spells, more components and more blood will be required. The greatest scrolls are written by powerful casters, that spend years bleeding themselves to fill the jar required to create the ink for the scribing of such powerful scrolls. The components must be completely covered by your magic infused blood, in order for the next part to work.” Isidor said.

Placing his hand over the jar of blood and sand, Isidor infused the jar. “
Ulu-jthloth Mnenme!
” Isidor spoke, and the jar started to glow and shake slightly. Then, without warning, there was a bright blue flash, and the jar was still again. The liquid inside the jar was glowing a soft, blue light, and it radiated a gentle heat. Tartum’s eyes almost fell out of his head.

“This is how you know you’ve done everything right. The blood and components have been blended by the magic and are now infused. From here it gets difficult. You have to dip your quill into the ink, and while writing, you have to keep a steady flow of magic coursing through your hand, into the quill, and to the paper. It’s a little tricky, and if you fail to keep the flow of magic steady, the whole scroll will be destroyed.” Seeing the look of alarm in Tartum’s eyes, he explained further, “Dont worry, it won’t hurt you really, the paper just crumples up, and sometimes there’s a small fire.”

To demonstrate this, Isidor dipped his quill into the ink and shut off his connection to the source. The moment he began trying to write, the parchment started to crinkle and curl into itself. When it was a small ball of ash, there was a “POP!” and the paper burst, spraying ash over the both of them. The scent of burnt paper was heavy in the air; they both coughed and waved their hands in front of them, to disperse the smoke.

Still choking a little, Isidor spoke, “See? You’re not really hurt...just...hard to breathe.” Coughing, Isidor gave Tartum the quill.

“Practice writing the scroll using my ink for now. Once you’ve gotten the technique of flowing magic through a medium, into a medium, we’ll begin your training on making your own ink. Just make your scroll look exactly like the one I gave you. When you complete fifteen flawless scrolls, we’ll move on to the ink. Also, I’ll show you something else that’s useful about scrolls.” With that, Isidor stood up and left Tartum to his training.

Alone with his materials, Tartum picked up a fresh piece of parchment from the pile on the floor and began his training. His mind raced with the new applications this facet of magic would open up to him. Dipping the quill into the glowing blue ink, Tartum began to practice his new art.

...

Tartum leaned back in his chair. Arching over the back, he let his muscles relax and his spine to crack. He had been laboring over the table for almost a month now, perfecting the art of scroll transcribing. He was loving every minute of it. Every morning he would wake, wash up, eat, and then sit down to write until his stomach reminded him it was time to eat again. Occasionally, it was other parts of his anatomy that required the breaks, but mostly just his stomach. He didn’t mind.