by CP Bialois
Curiosity, it could be a terrible temptress as it could sway even the stoutest of hearts along the path of their destiny. While he believed it couldn’t alter one’s preordained path, Mern was a firm supporter that it was there to make one’s life hell. That was how he held his greatest weakness, as an annoyance to be treated with as much contempt as one could sustain. After all, it was curiosity that brought his attention to such a spell. A simple traveling spell that, if done correct, would allow the user to travel to other plains of existence. It was believed time flowed differently on other plains, in those an instant could equal years in their current one. Mastering such a spell would allow one to become immortal. He only had to be on that plain for mere moments as needed.
Escaping the ravages of old age and death had a certain appeal to Mern. He saw friends and colleagues whither and die. It was a fate that caused one to question their faith in another world, an after life, as some called it. No, Mern liked the world he was in, and he was wiling to do whatever it took to remain there. With that thought process, he sought out the young mage.
The trip wasn’t difficult with the ice and snow of winter nearly gone. Paths and roads that were impassable just a month earlier were open to travelers. Spring was always Mern’s favorite time of year as the land renewed itself, much like a child learning to walk. Before too long it‘d grow into something entirely different, until then he intended to enjoy himself. He could still smell the roses and tulips he passed on his journey, entire fields of them in some places where they could grow wild without the threat of humans plucking them to showcase their beauty. Such a wonderful time of year to begin a journey, one he believed would lead to the grandest gift of all.
Mern remembered the joy he felt while making his journey. In fact, everything passed quicker than he wished during his trip. With one to two hundred souls living in the farming village of Feloria, the village wasn’t used to seeing travelers. He’d been surprised to hear of a mage in such a small community in the middle of no where, but despite his questions he wasn’t one to turn down an opportunity provided to him.
The young mage had been discovered by another traveling mage, one of the white robes believing it his duty to inform others of a young upstart claiming the impossible. Being the highest of his order, the white mage insisted it was impossible for a low level brown robed mage to cast, much less create such a spell. Mern had pointed out the boy either was apprenticing to a powerful archemage or he’d been misled by one of the elders. Upset at having his opinion challenged, even so politely, the white robed mage left Mern alone and retired to his room. Mern, of course, ignored the huffing display by the indignant mage and weighed the possibilities. Surely, a lad such as the one described to him had a powerful master, Mern refused to believe such a story was made up no matter how incredulous it sounded
Those memories, as well as others, swelled in the old mage’s mind while he sat in his room. Strange, he thought, that he could remember every detail except for their names. Why did the names of both magic users elude him so? Irritated, Mern shook his head and laid down on the soft bed for a short nap. He decided it wasn‘t important and closed his eyes. Even as he drifted off to sleep, the village of Feloria took root in his mind and he began to dream.
Chapter 9
Studying. Endless hours of studying was the lifestyle mages like Viola chose. That commitment was what it would take for her to become powerful and have her name immortalized in history. Viola accepted the requirements when she chose such a life for herself years earlier. She had other skills such as painting and she was decent with tools. Janessa told her on several occasions she’d make a great thief since picking locks was an art form, but she loved magic. The euphoric feeling that filled her when she cast a spell was beyond her ability to describe or comprehend.
Despite all of her studying, Viola didn’t know how she’d get into the history books. War mages were renowned for their skill and power. Everyone put them on a pedestal but she didn’t have the stomach for it, a fact she ignored until the battle after the pit fights. Becoming a chronicler was a highly valued position among magic users, but there was no glory or power in such a position she wanted. Being a king’s fool was the worst choice imaginable but a king’s advisor and magus, now that seemed promising. Viola smiled to herself as she studied the final spell from her spellbook. Repeating the incantation several times in her mind, she focused on the proper voce inflection as well as any hand motions or components that would be needed. She continued repeating the spell until a familiar warming sensation flowed over her. Closing her spellbook and smiling, she committed the four incantations to memory and decided on what path she’d take to reach her goal. Her name would be remembered throughout history, of that she was certain.
Not being one of religious faith, Viola muttered a silent prayer to any of the Gods that were listening, or cared, to thank them for aiding her with her magic. Satisfied she thanked everyone and thing she needed to, she placed her spell book in her pack, closing it as her eyes settled on the herbology book sitting off to the side. Her left hand started reaching for it on its own accord, an action she found curious but saw no reason to stop it. Just as her fingers brushed against the worn binding of the book the door burst open revealing an excited Janessa.
Viola pulled her hand away as if she’d been caught doing something she shouldn’t. “Damn it Janessa, you scared the life out of me!” Viola slumped in her chair and took a few deep breaths. Why was she so short of breath?
Janessa paid her no mind, “You’ll never guess what happened.” She paused at seeing the look on her friend’s face. “Are you alright? You look tired.”
Viola bit back a sharp retort, Janessa was happy about something and she didn’t want to upset her. “No, you just startled me is all.” Viola rested her right hand over her left, not trusting it to do what she willed. Hoping Janessa wouldn’t notice, Viola forced herself to relax, she hadn’t been doing anything wrong. Viola smiled at her friend and it dawned on her that Janessa wasn’t just happy, she was ecstatic. “What happened to you?” Viola got up and moved around the desk towards her friend, a teasing look on her face. “What’s his name?”
Janessa’s mouth dropped open in mock protest, “I don’t meet that many Viola!” Her expression changed to one of innocence all children use when they know they’re in trouble. “Stang.” She answered, her voice low with a hint of embarrassment.
Viola crossed her arms trying to appear serious while also trying to hide a smile. “Again? I thought you gave up on him.”
“I never gave up; I just waited for my second wind.” Janessa cracked a sly smile.
Viola’s mouth dropped in shock and protest, “Jenny!”
Janessa’s sly smile broadened as she shrugged, “Not like that, at least not yet. Mern said he may have a sweetheart.”
“If he does what are you…” The young mage’s eyes widened when her friend’s response fully registered. “Mern said it? He’s in town then?” As soon as she spoke Viola could’ve smacked herself for such a stupid question. Of course he was, otherwise Janessa wouldn’t be in front of her. “I mean, you two got back already?”
Janessa noticed Viola’s surprise and… did she seem excited? Yes, Viola was excited but the Halfling chose to pretend she didn’t hear the tone in her friend’s voice. “It wasn’t bad, he only had a few bags and he rented a wagon to carry everything here.” She motioned in a vague direction. “He’s down the hall taking a nap.”
Viola’s expression changed from contained excitement to one of disappointment. Janessa wanted to shake her head but with the look on Viola’s face she thought better of it. “He is pretty old. I’d be surprised if he didn’t sleep most of the day.”
Viola glanced up ready to defend her soon to be teacher but at seeing the innocent look her friend wore she broke into laughter. “He is, isn’t he?” She couldn’t help but giggle at the thoughts she was sure were going through the Halfling’s head.
Seeing Viola laugh
caused Janessa to join in like it was an infectious disease. The two laughed until their sides hurt, neither one could stop due to sharing the same image in their minds. After a few minutes Viola managed to regain some control and wiped tears from her eyes and cheeks. “So…” She chuckled, “What are you planning for Stang? If he has a sweetheart there’s not much you can do.”
Wiping away her own tears of laughter, Janessa answered. “Oh there’s plenty I can do. We could always give her a frog face or something.”
Viola chuckled, “How come you always want to involve me in your schemes?”
The Halfling shrugged, “It’d be fun! Besides it was worth a try.”
Viola looked at her knowingly, “Do I want to know what you’re planning?”
Janessa smiled at her, “Probably not, but I’m sure you’ll hear about it.” Winking at Viola, Janessa headed for the door. When she grasped the doorknob and turned it she glanced back at Viola. “Remember, you won’t get anywhere if you stop to count the wrinkles.” Laughing she darted out of their room, closing the door behind her. Running for the stairs she heard, “Jenny!” come from their room. Laughing to herself Janessa continued running down the stairs as fast as her legs could carry her.
*****
“I don‘t understand why you’d choose this kind of life. I thought I did, but obviously that was a lie. How many others have you told me over the past five years?” Gilliam stood with his hands tucked into the outer pockets of his robes. He felt he knew the answers to his questions before asking them but this… this was something he hadn’t expected. For over an hour he and his nephew sat alone, away from the camp to discuss those matters. It was obvious both men wished to reconcile, Berek in particular, since his uncle was also his only friend there. But try as he might, the cleric of Fallor couldn’t convince the fighter to tell him the truth.
As much as Gilliam felt frustrated and betrayed, Berek felt worse. At least his uncle had a target for his feelings. That was something the young fighter didn’t share. He was frustrated with the fact he didn’t know where his strange power came from or how he controlled it, the power was something that was just there like the sun and the stars. As far as being betrayed, that was a feeling he became used to ten years earlier. He couldn’t make his uncle understand he wasn’t like the rest, though he knew betrayal at its worst moment he wasn’t about to do the same to anyone else.
“None, I only told you I came here to sharpen my skills because I knew what would happen if I told you the truth.” Answered Berek without flinching.
Gilliam threw his hands out to his sides in frustration. “You knew what would happen? This?”
For the first time all morning Berek smiled, though it was bitter and cynical. “No uncle, not this. Something far worse.”
Gilliam ran his fingers through what little hair he had left trying to understand. “What could be worse than what happened? Being sold into slavery? Burned at the stake? Damn it Berek, I’m only trying to help you.”
Berek let out a deep breath and rubbed his eyes. Gilliam was sure he knew what happened; he just wanted to hear Berek admit it. Why couldn’t he be left alone? “That’s what would happen, you’d want to help.”
Gilliam’s face twisted in confusion, “What’s wrong with that? It’s my duty as--”
“A cleric.” Berek finished his uncle’s sentence for him.
“Your uncle.” He concluded his thought as he meant to while his nephew fidgeted before him. “The healing process can only begin when you lift the burden off of yourself. It’s alright to be human.”
Berek’s eyes lifted to his uncle’s, “Is it? When was the last time my father, or anyone in our family, settled for something less than perfect? Perfection is something that can only be achieved by the Gods, not mortals. We come from a wealthy family of artists uncle, nothing else can be tolerated. Being human isn’t good enough, it never was.”
Gilliam reached, resting a comforting hand on Berek’s shoulder. “Perfection is impossible; your father never understood that.” Sensing a turning point, Gilliam smiled at the young fighter sitting before him with tears running down his face. “You may not believe this but you’ve just taken the first step, it’ll only become easier in time.”
Berek wasn’t sure why the tears came so freely, he made peace with himself long ago. He knew Gilliam wouldn’t betray him, but the frustration still remained deep within him. His mind made up, he stood and embraced his uncle. Let him think he helped, Berek thought as he felt the embrace returned, he’s not here to save me. Berek’s thoughts turned to his frustration and pushed it further down into the depths of his soul where it remained hidden.
*****
“So touching. Pity we must wait.” Two large figures stood some distance from the humans, watching the pair argue. “They must be separated. Cleric not important.” The other nodded his agreement. As long as the two were together they were dangerous, that was understood by both of the figures.
After a moment, one of the figures turned, stepping out from their observation point and headed to the armory. The late morning sun highlighted the yellowish brown molted skin of the large Ogres. The Nursk Brothers, twins born and abandoned after their parents were killed during an attack from the Minotaur. Left to die as infants, Renard found them by accident, literally tripping over them while searching for spoils of war the Minotaur raiding party didn't take with them.
At first he planned to leave them, not wanting to deal with babies while he was trying to fund his company. But as he walked away Renard noticed neither of them made a sound, not the tiniest cry found its way past their lips. He was intrigued yet he knew not why. He looked up at a rustling sound from the bushes as his trusted pet Fech, then only a few years old, strode out eyeing the infants.
Renard smiled, “Thinking of dinner Fech? I don’t think you’d like the taste of these.”
The gargoyle’s gaze shifted from the twins to his master. No, he didn’t want to eat them. Ogre flesh was like Goblin, tasteless and rubbery. Another idea occurred to him though, if his master had the patience to see it to the end. “Keep them.”
Renard glanced over, he was sure he hadn’t heard right. “What Fech?”
The gargoyle let out a deep breath that resembled a growl, at that sound anyone close to him, with the exception of Renard, tended to back away. “Keep them. Raise them to fight.” Fech’s Common wasn’t good and since his master didn’t speak Draco he hoped he’d understand.
Renard’s face twisted in an unusual way as he thought over what Fech said. Since the moment his pet hatched he showed a keen intellect. Renard was aware that Fech was already smarter than himself so he respected the gargoyle’s opinions, even if he disagreed. That, however, wasn‘t one of those times, his mind began working along the same lines as Fech’s.
He wanted to start his own gladiatorial games within his traveling company of merchants as another attraction. With Ogres being notoriously difficult to capture when full grown, and even harder to control, but infants… Renard’s mind began running along as he pondered the possibilities. Already the size of human four year olds, the twin Ogres could be taught and trained by himself. The best part? They would be loyal to him and him alone.
He motioned to some of his slaves to gather the infants. With scared looks, the men did as they were instructed while Renard walked over, placing his hand on Fech’s head and stroked his neck. “You never fail me Fech; there’ll be an extra treat for you at dinner tonight.” The gargoyle gave a sigh of approval; Fech knew he was the one thing in the world Renard could bring himself to love.
Satisfied, Renard turned back to the infants, who enjoyed the fear the humans holding them displayed. “Now, what to call you two?” As if answering his question, one of the infants made a sound resembling “nursk”. Thus Renard began calling them the Nursk Brothers and one of the biggest draws in Gladiatorial games began.
Twenty years later, the Nursk Brothers had duel responsibilities as fighters,
though their matches were always previously decided, and as guards for Renard’s Company. As Renard predicted all those years earlier, they were indeed loyal to him to the point they’d happily die at his command.
The previous day they watched one of their close comrades die at the hands of the human. Berek was supposed to die, but the Lizard man forgot its part in the bargain. As a result, none in the company were more upset with losing one of their own than the Nursk Brothers. Once night fell, they planned to wait until Berek was either alone or left the grounds. Either way they were prepared to follow their instructions. Revenge was never as sweet as it was then, they could barely control themselves as their anticipation mounted.
Chapter 10
Viola stood by the door, hesitant to knock and possibly wake her new master from his nap. She knew it’d be best to wait until he summoned her to begin lessons, but Viola’s inquisitive mind was full of questions. After Janessa left to pursue her desires, something the young mage never understood, she started reading through the text on herbology. She began feeling a new sense of strength and seemed to lose herself within an hour of starting.
She heard other students at the magic school talk about it, how they felt a growing sense of power with each spell they mastered. At first Viola understood and felt much the same when mastering her first two spells but was at a loss to understand, much less explain, why it hadn’t continued with the following two spells. Assuming she advanced beyond the basic spells and no longer aided her growth, Viola decided to push her limits. That proved to be the driving force in her sneaking into her master’s laboratory and “acquiring” a few scrolls. Lucky for her, there wasn’t an enchantment of protection on them, her master felt it wasn’t worth the trouble. Being quick, Viola was able to copy them onto her own scrolls and returned the originals before they were missed. After all her efforts, she’d only been able to master three of them thus far: levitation, fire and repulse. The other handful were still in her spell book but useless to her.
