The Mage's Limits: Mages of Martir Book #2 (3 page)

Of course, that made sense. Skimif had told Darek, point blank, that Uron was to be left to the gods and that the mortals, even the North Academy mages, were supposed to stay out of the conflict. That was because Uron was immensely powerful, far too strong for even the Magical Superior to go toe-to-toe with, and Skimif did not want any of them getting hurt or killed.

As another layer of ice fell off the block, Darek remembered obeying Skimif's orders at the time, but over the past year he had spent a lot of time studying how to increase his power in order to help defend his friends and family from Uron. Uron had said that he was going to destroy all of Martir, and with the legendary God-killer gauntlet at his side, that threat was more credible than it first appeared.

None of us can sit idly by and let him do what he wants,
Darek thought,
not when our whole world is at stake. It may be the gods' duty to protect Martir from threats like Uron, but that doesn't mean we mages can't help, even if only in small ways.

It had only been within the last month that the answer to that question—how to increase his power—had occurred to him: He would have to break through the ceiling, which, if successful, would raise his limits to new heights.

The conclusion had scared him at the time, but since then, he had made peace with it. While Darek was not usually one to disobey the orders from his teachers, he decided that saving the lives of his friends and family was more important than following any warnings—no matter how well-meaning—they had given him.

Darek checked in with his magical energy levels. So far, he was still quite full, but he could feel his power rapidly draining from his body as he poured more ice magic into the block. If any of the teachers noticed, they were probably not going to do anything about it. It was normal for graduates to expend more magical energy than normal during their graduation ceremony, so right now, at least, Darek was safe.

Time to up my usage,
Darek thought.
And find out if I really
can
raise my limits.

So Darek poured more energy through his wand. He could now almost see the outline of the Xocion statue in the ice block, though he doubted the others could. It would be the grandest Xocion statue anyone had ever made, grander even than the ice statues created by the great Xocionian mage Siar.

It would be grand because Darek would break through the ceiling and reach new heights of magical power. And once he did, he would be far better equipped to defend Martir from Uron or anyone else who threatened his world and friends and family.

The prospect of gaining more power excited Darek so much that he increased his magical output, despite being aware that the teachers might notice. Layers and chunks of ice kept getting shaved from the block, much faster than they normally did when he carved a statue from ice.

Whether the others will notice or not, I have to keep doing it,
Darek thought.
Keep going, keep pouring energy, don't let up, especially don't let up long enough for the teachers to notice and stop you.

As Darek thought that, he could not help but remember how powerless he had felt last year, when Uron had first appeared. Yet even before he had met Uron, Darek had felt just as powerless when facing Aorja Kitano, his former best friend who had tried to kill him and his other friend, Jiku, before she was defeated and shipped off to Rock Isle to rot with the other prisoners there.

Darek had not seen Aorja in a year. He didn't even know if she was still alive or not. Nonetheless, just thinking about her made his blood boil. It slightly disturbed his concentration, causing him to accidentally move his wand to the left. That unintended movement cut through the ice's surface in a jagged way, which would have messed up Darek's attempt completely if he hadn't reasserted his control over his wand and forced it back to where it was supposed to be.

No time to wonder about Aorja,
Darek thought.
She's long gone. I must focus on the present, not the past.

He checked his energy levels again. Already, he had used up slightly more than half his energy. Granted, it was impossible to put a mage's magical energy supply into raw numbers, but Darek knew enough about his own magic levels to know that he had now gone past the halfway point.

Most mages, in his situation, would have slowed their magical usage, maybe even stopped entirely. Then they would rest so they could recharge their energy levels. That was how afraid most mages were of going beyond the ceiling, giving up after only using half their power, despite how small that usage was in the grand scheme of things.

Not Darek, though. Not today. Reaching the halfway point was good, but it was nothing worth bragging about. He would have to up his energy usage, and quickly, before the teachers noticed. He did not dare take his eyes off his ice block to see if the teachers had caught a clue yet, but sooner or later they would realize what he was trying to do, and he just couldn't allow that right now.

By now, the ice block was perhaps halfway done. He could see Xocion's muscular arms and large chest, but no legs or head just yet. There was still so much to do, and he wasn't sure if he had enough energy to do it; nonetheless, he pushed further, pouring as much of his energy as he could into the block.

His wand hand shook, but he forced it to steady. A shaky, unsteady wand hand was a clear sign to even amateur mages that another mage was reaching his or her limits. Darek was not going to let his body betray his plans, at least not until it was too late for anyone to stop him.

It wasn't easy, though. The more magical energy he used, the more tired he got. His knees were getting weaker and his arms felt like lead. His eyelids became as heavy as armor and sweat ran down his forehead. For some reason, he felt hot, rather than cold, even though he was using ice magic, not fire magic.

This must be why so many mages refuse to go beyond the halfway point,
Darek thought, although his thoughts were barely coherent even to himself.
It feels like I'm dying.

Once more, Darek checked his energy levels. By his estimations, he had only a quarter of his usual magical energy left. It occurred to him that he was losing energy after the halfway point far quicker than he had when his magic was fuller. He was close to the ceiling now, so close that he was surprised none of the teachers appeared to sense his proximity to it.

Not … a problem,
Darek thought, watching as Xocion's legs began forming in the ice block.
All … the … better … for me …

He staggered forward involuntarily. He heard the students behind him gasp, prompting him to shout, “I'm fine! Just getting a little tired is all. No need to worry about me. Everything will be fine.”

Even he could hear how awful his voice sounded. No doubt he sounded like a talking corpse to everyone else. He might even sound bad enough for the teachers to intervene, though so far, he did not hear any movement from them.

His magical energy levels were so low by now that he could barely even sense them. This frightened him more than he'd like to admit. Ever since he began his formal training as a student, Darek had always held the comfort of his magical energy levels in his own body no matter where he was or what he did.

Now, however, it felt like he was missing several of his internal organs.
Vital
internal organs, like his heart or lungs. Breathing was becoming a task suited only for a god, while standing was as difficult as pushing a three ton boulder up the tallest hill in the world.

Despite how his body was practically screaming for him to stop, Darek didn't. He had read only a handful of accounts of mages breaking through the ceiling. He had heard about what lay on the other side, for those lucky few who didn't fall into a coma. If he could just stay conscious for a little while longer, just a little while, then he would be all right.

The statue was almost complete now; he could tell that even in his half-conscious state of mind. A figure like a titan towered over him. Strong, muscular arms, lithe athletic legs, and a chest like the Walls that surrounded the school formed his statue of Lord Xocion. The only thing that wasn't yet complete was the head; however, Darek could already see its vague outline; although whether it was in his head or in the world, he could not tell.

Despite his heavy breathing and intense sweating, his robes getting drenched in the sweat, Darek couldn't help but crack a smile.
My best work … ever. Looking at these muscles. The abs. Even the fingernails. Is this what everyone is afraid of? Afraid of exceeding their limits and doing what they could only ever dream of?

He almost laughed. Of course, he hadn't yet reached the ceiling yet. It seemed unlikely that he would, but he kept pushing anyway. He had to. The teachers would have to be complete idiots if they hadn't noticed the immense amount of power he was expending at this point.

Just keep going,
Darek thought.
Don't let up. Remember Aorja. Remember Uron. Remember how you want to keep your friends and family safe from people like—

Darek stopped mid-thought. The tiredness in his body vanished. He stopped sweating. He no longer felt a heavy burden on his shoulders. He felt like he could jump for joy.

His senses came alive. He could hear the boots of Taci Xeon, one of his fellow graduates, scuffling across the floor, and she was on the other side of the lobby. He smelled the soap used by another student, which was scented like grapes. He saw the Xocion ice statue in far greater detail than before, noticing little cracks too miniscule for even his trained eyes to notice normally. And his wand felt
real
, more real than it had ever felt before, as though up until now he had not actually been holding it at all.

Time itself seemed to have slowed down around him. No; not slowed down. Darek was seeing time as it actually moved, rather than how his senses interpreted it. Everything around him looked slower, but in truth, his human senses had simply been blinding him to the true nature of time.

That was how Darek knew he had done it. He had achieved the impossible: He had broken through the ceiling.

And it felt
great
.

I feel so
powerful, Darek thought.
Is this how the Magical Superior feels? Is this what it feels like to be strong? It feels like there are no limits to my power. I feel more alive than I have in thirty-five years, as though I spent my entire life dead up until this point.

Darek wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. He didn't understand why he had always been warned against breaking through the ceiling. He suspected that his teachers had simply been falsely concerned over his well-being. After all, none of them had ever broken through the ceiling, so how could any of them know whether it was as bad as those old books said it was?

His face broke into an enormous grin. He wanted to compose a hymn to Xocion right there and then, even though he wasn't much of a poet. He no longer felt afraid of Uron or anything else in the world. He believed, as sincerely as he believed anything else, that there was no force in this world that could stand against him now.

“I wouldn't be so sure about that if I were you.”

Darek looked to his right. A skeleton stood there, with eyes glowing bright green, its mouth etched in a perpetual, creepy grin. Unlike everyone else in the room, the skeleton moved as normally as he did.

“What?” said Darek. “Who—no,
what
—are you? Where did you come from?”

The skeleton chuckled. “Just an interested observer who has decided to see just who was dumb enough to 'break through the ceiling,' as you mortals call it.”

“Dumb enough?” said Darek. Anger rose within him like a geyser. “Who are you calling dumb? I have transcended my limits. You want to fight me and prove who's the real dumb one around here?”

The skeleton stroked its chin, its bony fingers as thin as sticks. “Fighting me would be a very dumb move on your part, Darek Takren. Thank you for the offer, though. Perhaps I will take you up on it later, once your sanity has returned.”

“Sanity?” said Darek. “I am already sane. I am saner than I have ever been.”

“That was what the last mortal who broke through the ceiling said,” said the skeleton. “Then he became a raving lunatic. Not that I care. Sane or insane, you mortals are much the same to me.”

“Why are you here?” said Darek. “If all you're going to do is question my sanity and insult my intelligence—”

The skeleton held up one finger. “I apologize for that. I just wanted to let you know that your high is about to end and it will probably be very painful once it does.”

Darek blinked. “Wha—”

Without warning, the Xocion ice statue before him exploded. At the same time, Darek's arms and legs became tired and heavy again, making it impossible for him to stand. His breathing became so intense that he start coughing and choking, perhaps even coughing up blood, but his eyes were screwing up so badly that he couldn't tell for sure what was coming out of his mouth.

A chunk of ice from the exploding Xocion statue knocked him flat off his feet and onto the floor, the impact of which, combined with his sudden, extreme fatigue, forced him to black out completely.

Chapter Three

T
he minor spirit, more properly called a katabans, known as Durima hauled herself up over the edge of the cliff and onto solid ground. She rested there for a moment, her wet fur heavy on her shoulders, but after a few minutes, she sat up and deposited her catch—three disc-shaped fish that she didn't know the species name of, but which she had discovered over the last year were quite tasty and nutritious—onto the ground next to her.

That is the last time I am going fishing like that,
Durima thought, glancing over the edge of the cliff into the ocean waters below.
I will have to ask Gujak to make a fishing pole or something. Surely he can do that, can't he?

Shivering, Durima knew she should get inside Bleak Rock, the island that she and Gujak had called sanctuary for a year now, but it was so dark and depressing inside that she decided to sit out here for a while, even though a bitter cold wind had started and made her feel like she was sitting in the middle of a blizzard.