The Jade Mage: The Becoming: Volume 1 (12 page)

Tartum nodded his acknowledgement and opened himself up to the magic, to begin his first attempt. Isidor’s hand wrapping around his arm, stopped him just as he was about to begin.

“Remember, if you make a mistake, if you get distracted or mispronounce a word, if you get interrupted, if
anything
goes wrong during the casting of the scroll, it will have devastating repercussions. If the scroll begings to get hot or shake in your hands, it means the spell is backfiring. Get rid of the scroll immediately, and try to find cover. You won’t have long, and there’s
no way
to recover a misfiring scroll.” Isidor warned, with a deep seriousness to his tone.

Tartum nodded and began to cast from his scroll again; this time bringing his full focus to the task at hand. He didn’t want to get blown up tonight. The rush from binding his scroll to his

book was enough flirting with death for one night. Carefully, Tartum fused the magic coursing through him with the scroll. As the letters on the parchment began to glow, Tartum recited the words for the spell.

“
Heh-Roniz Tuw Ernanoth
!” he said reading each word out loud from the scroll, as he had been told. As he spoke, the light coming from the words went out. There was a cascading effect down the scroll, as the magic was being used up and took the form of the spell. Holding his hand, palm up, in front of him,Tartum finished the last word on the scroll and then threw the scroll to the ground. A ball of softly glowing light appeared in Tartum’s hand. It was no bigger than his head but gave off the light of twenty candles. It was better than any lantern Tartum had ever seen. He watched the scroll fall to the ground in the light of his magic orb. It was already turning black and imploding into itself. Just as it hit the ground Tartum heard that familiar ”
POP!”
and the scroll was reduced to ash.

Tartum looked to his master, a broad smile on his face. Isidor’s smile matched his own, and they both looked at the glowing orb hovering in Tartum’s hand. Tartum found it amazing that such a bright light gave off no heat. A flame this size would have scorched the flesh clean off his hand. It also amazed Tartum that staring into the orb didn’t cause his eyes to hurt, like when he looked into the sun. Tartum took pride in his creation. “Magic is such a convenient thing.” he thought, “It always knows exactly how to make my life better.”

With a shake of his hand, the orb was dispelled. Tartum waited a moment for his eyes to adjust to the enveloping darkness.

“Thank you for this, master. For everything. You’ve been a true friend to me all these years. Thank you for the gift of magic, and thank you for not giving up on me.” Tartum didn’t know why he had said that. They were all true words, spoken directly from his heart, but he’d never thought to utter them. In the presense of such a personal victory, Tartum assumed he was just caught up in the moment. He hoped Isidor wouldn’t berate him for being a fool.

The tears returned to Isidor’s eyes, with Tartum’s words. He didn’t try to fight them. They ran down his face, unhindered. Isidor looked at Tartum like a father looks at a favored son.

“It is I, who should thank you, Tartum. You gave this old man a purpose again, and you’ve never failed me. Don’t ever think that.” Isidor said.

They stood there for a moment, letting the bond between them flourish in their combined love and respect for each other. The kind of bond only a master and a pupil would ever know. Isidor regained control of himself, and his emotional armor slammed back into place.

“Thats enough of this woman talk. Pick up the rest of your stuff and get inside. The wind is picking up, and I doubt you want to get your scrolls and spell book wet. You’ll make the whole wagon stiink like wet dog again.” With that, Isidor retreated back to the wagon.

Tartum stood there a moment, smiling. He loved the cranky old man. He knew now that his blustering and complaining was just that. A facade. He had seen the look in his face when he was trapped in the rapture of his binding spell, he saw the look in his eyes when he used the scroll on the first try. He had seen the look of approval when Isidor thought he wasn’t looking or not quick enough to catch him. Isidor was more to Tartum than just a teacher, he was his best and dearest friend. Tartum counted himself very lucky to have had the oppurtunity to know him.

Retrieving his spell book, Tartum opened it to the first page. Sure enough, there was the light globe spell he had bound to it. Giving the page a tug, he confirmed it was bound to the book. Closing the cover, Tartum held his book close. It had been with him for so long, it was like family. If Isidor was like a father to him, the book was an older brother. Tartum was always trying to learn from it and wanted to be as powerful as it was. An odd thought, to aspire to be as powerful as a book, but it felt right. Between Isidor, his staff, and his spell book, Tartum found contentment. He hoped he never lost any of them. He didn’t know what he would do if he did.

A chill wind began to pick up as the thought was going through his mind, and caused him to shiver. Tartum went inside the wagon to escape the oncoming storm, he hoped the wind was a coincidence and not an omen of things to come. Unsettled, Tartum decided it was time for him to sleep.

...

Six months had passed, and Tartum was now nineteen. Isidor had surprised him that day, by taking him out, claiming he needed his help to carry back something heavy. Tartum had been annoyed, but had gone with him because he enjoyed his master’s company.

Things between him and Isidor had changed over the last few months. No longer were they simply master and student. They were friends. Close friends. Best friends. The wall between them had been torn down, and Isidor now treated Tartum as an equal...both in status and in magic. Tartum had never been happier in his life. He continued his quest for power through the perfection of magic. His spell book was as stubborn as ever, and so he spent the majority of his days ensuring he had his spells properly memorized and practicing with his staff. He even got the idea into his head to pick up another trade. He spent some time as the butcher’s apprentice, but it became very mundane to Tartum, and he got yelled at when he tried to use magic to enhance the process. He quit after a week.

They hadn’t gone far when they passed Isidor’s favorite brothel, and they were shepherded inside. The screams of joy from the girls, who knew Tartum almost as well as they knew Isidor, were deafening. The night was flawless with no desire of flesh, food, or drink denied. He met a new girl that night named Hilary. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever known, and the press of her body against his, was enough to make him forget everything else. She was gorgeous, about five foot five, one hundred fifteen pounds, big brown eyes, long silky blonde hair that reached to the small of her back, full pouting lips, perfect breasts that were neither too big or too small, and a body that could have been made by a master sculpter. She claimed that she was from a town far from this one, where she had run away from an abusive husband. She told him that she only worked for Mama so she could earn enough money to buy safe transport to a big city and start a new life. The way she talked and the sound of her voice reminded Tartum of the sound of birds chirping or angels singing. He spent the whole night with her and spent every gold Isidor had given him on her attentions. As far as he was concerned, it was the best night of his life.

He had spent alot of time with her since then and had quickly fallen in love with her. He was sure she would become his wife. The fact that he had never seen her outside the brothel and had to pay top coin to be with her, never registered as odd with him. In fact, he gave it no thought at all.

It was to see Hilary that Tartum was on his way to do now. He told Isidor he was going and asked him to meet him there later, if he wished. Isidor didn’t approve of Tartum’s feelings for an “Alpha-whore” as he called her, but said he would meet him there later.

Tartum half glided to the brothel. He was completely, totally, one hundred percent in love with Hilary, and he believed deep down inside that she felt the same. As he got to the building he heard the typical baudy music and raw language of the establishment he had come to frequent. Upon entering, he was greeted by a harem of scantily clad girls, that were extremely happy to see him. Throwing their arms around him the usual questions began.

“Tartum! Did you miss me? I missed you! Buy me a juice!? Wanna buy my ticket for ten minutes in the back room? I’d love to show you what I can do with my legs. Have you seen my new undergarments? I’d love to show em to you. Pick me, pick me, pick me!”

Tartum smiled and rejected all their solicitations in turn. Then he asked where Hilary was. The girls, spurned, turned and walked away to look for another meal ticket for the night. One of them said something about Hilary being in the back with a client, and Tartum would have to wait. Tartum didn’t mind, he went to the bar to talk with Mama.

Mama was as big as ever and twice as mean as when he had first met her. He didn’t mind her sharp tongue, however. He liked the rough talk and believed that Mama liked him in her own way. She always made time to talk with him and always had great, if extrememly dirty, stories to tell him, if he bought her a drink. He also didn’t mind that Hilary was most likely with another man. It was just a temporary situation until they went off and got married. Then she’d be the doting wife and he, the valiant husband. They would have children and live happily ever after, as he provided for them with his magic. Their lives would be the picture of perfection. He had planned it all out in his head, over many, many nights.

“Mama!” Tartum called out when he got close. Turning to see who was calling her, Mama saw Tartum and waved him over. A grin split her chubby face. Mama did like Tartum, but not because of his company or character. As far as she was concerned, all men were nothing more than potential money. Their worth was measured by the weight of their coin purses. Tartum’s purse always weighed a good amount, so to Mama, Tartum was a good man. She liked him because he was easy to part with his gold, good to her girls, and incredibly stupid when it came to women. He was the perfect man, as far as Mama was concerned, and she brought him his mead. She poured herself one as well, she knew Hilary was who Tartum was looking for, and she knew it would be a while before the three men that had paid for her were done.

“The poor stupid bastard.” she thought, “He probably thinks she actually cares about him. Stupid man.”

Tartum and Mama talked for hours while they drank. Mama drank more than Tartum and told him many of her stories. Most of which, she had simply heard from other patrons that had too much to drink and wouldn’t shut up. Tartum didn’t mind. Mama was fun, and the stories always had a great ending. They kept drinking, and Tartum kept paying. It was a good start to a great night.

It was into her fifth story of the night...or was it the seventh?...Tartum couldn’t remember, his head for mead wasn’t great, but he drank because Hilary said she thought it made him look tough, that Isidor arrived. Making his way through the greeting squad of working girls, Isidor sat down next to Tartum and had Mama bring him an ale.

“Isidor!!! Glad you mahde it! Mama was shaying shtuff about...shaomething. HAHAHAHAAH!” Tartum said, he was very drunk. Isidor laughed hard at Tartum’s condition and ordered some stronger drinks to catch up. He wouldn’t allow Tartum to hog all the fun for himself.

As the night drew on, Isidor and Tartum grew more and more drunk. By this point, they were up on the bar, with an equally drunk Mama, singing and dancing. The entire bar was roaring their approval, while throwing coins and encouragment to the trio. It was into their third verse of “Oh, How I Love the Way You Taste” when Hilary pulled on Tartum’s leg.

“Is that song about me honey?” She said, with a flirtatious wink.

Tartum looked down at her and smiled. There she was! She had been working all night but was still the most gorgeous woman in the bar, to Tartum’s eyes. She had her long blonde hair tied up in a tightly braided pony tail. The sight of it drove Tartum wild with passion. She had on a corset, made of black lace, that tied up the side. It pushed her perfectly formed breasts up so that the cleavage was so soft and inviting. Her pursed, full lips were begging him to kiss them, and his body burned with lust at her touch. This was the woman he would marry. He was sure of it!

“Hilarrrrrrrrrrrrrry!” Tartum yelled. Reaching down for her, he stumbled and fell head first off the bar and onto the floor. He barely felt the impact and jumped up to hug his love. Hilary embraced him for a moment and then pushed him back.

“You know the rules lover, no play without pay.” Hilary said teasingly. As if summoned, Mama appeared next to Tartum, with her hand out expectantly. Without looking away from Hilary, Tartum gave the rest of his money to Mama. Counting the coins up, Mama smiled and gave Tartum a wet kiss on the cheek.

“You go have fun! Hilary is yours for the night! Have fun kids!” Mama said to the both of them.

“Yea, go have fun you Jackass!” yelled Isidor, behind him. Tartum waved at them both, as Hilary led him to the back room. The entire bar roared encouraging remarks to both Tartum and Hilary.

Tartum didn’t know how much time they had spent together, but after he was fully spent and she could take no more, it was still dark, and the bar outside their room was still loud with singing and cheering. Tartum could make out Isidor’s bellowing voice and Mama’s shrill screaming. He liked the combination. It felt like home. It felt like
he
was home.