Bibliomancer

by James Hunter

  “I can't decide if I love or hate this place,” he muttered under his breath. This was easily the most interesting room he’d seen inside the Mage’s College so far. Sam was there for only a few heartbeats before the *click-clacking* of boots on tile floors drifted through the air, followed in short order by a shimmer of electric-blue light.

  Octavius Igenitor seemingly materialized out of thin air, even though Sam knew that was simply one of the many tricks of spatial magic. The Peak Student in charge of new Initiate processing looked as disgruntled as ever, a sneer perpetually worked into the lines of his face, his well-coiffed hair swept back and away from his forehead. He’d helped Sam get situated yesterday, but it was obvious the man had a serious axe to grind; it was equally obvious that he was looking to grind said axe against Sam’s skull.

  Any slip-up on Sam’s part would be met with strict and terrible repercussions, Sam was sure. In the grand scheme of things, Octavius was a nobody, but in a very small realm, he had the power of a dictator. Unfortunately, Sam happened to fall inside that small realm. Sam had known guys like Octavius all his life, and the best way to deal with them was to either avoid them entirely, or if that simply wasn’t an option, then ensure they had no reason to cause trouble.

  “You’re here,” Octavius stated the obvious while folding his hands behind his back. “Oh, goody.”

  His tone said that things weren’t good at all and that he was in fact deeply disappointed that Sam was on time. Abyss, to Sam’s ears, the man sounded disappointed that he had even survived the night. Maybe the pain in his head when he woke up was from less natural causes than he had thought.

  “Well, there’s no time to waste, Neophyte. The Archmage and the rest of the Council will already be assembled. It would be unwise to keep them waiting for long.” He turned, then paused and glanced over one shoulder at Sam. “Also. Take heed, Neophyte. It would be equally unwise to show the Archmage or the Council any of the disrespect you’ve shown me thus far. If you insult them or embarrass me in any way, I swear you will suffer in ways you can’t even begin to comprehend. Now, attend me.”

  He offered Sam his back and marched through an archway on the right of the chamber. Sam wanted to throw his shoe at the back of Octavius’ stupid, ego-swollen head, but he bit his tongue, kept his shoes firmly on his feet, and reluctantly trailed after his direct ‘superior’. He didn’t like the guy, not even a little, but he didn’t have to like everyone. Sooner or later, he’d be a licensed Mage and fully equipped for the world of adventure, and then he could beat feet and put Octavius and his bad attitude firmly in the rearview mirror. Until then, he just had to play along.

  The Peak Student led him unwaveringly through passageway after passageway, corridor after corridor, taking turns seemingly at random until they finally stepped out into another chamber that was easily the strangest place Sam had seen since entering Eternium. The oversized room was spherical shaped and so large that it couldn’t conceivably fit inside the tower proper, not without some serious arcane prestidigitation. Half the room was covered in stadium-style benches, allowing spectators a perfect view of whatever happened on the main floor. Speaking of spectators, there were a bunch of them filling out a few rows of the stands—less than he thought there should be but still more than he expected in the first place.

  Another series of seats—these far fewer in number and far cushier looking—were on a platform in the center of the room. These seats were also occupied, and the Mages in those chairs almost glowed with power and authority, dressed in formal regalia which was as bright and ostentatious as a peacock’s plumage. A single throne-like chair, larger and grander than the rest, was filled by an enormously obese man with cruel, piggy eyes who sported dazzling, multi-colored robes and a curled staff that looked a little like a shepherd’s crook—though one made of pure gold and encrusted with jewels.

  All of those details, however, were eclipsed by the true centerpiece of the room—a gigantic glass tube, larger than the largest redwoods in the Sequoia National Park, extended from floor to ceiling. Curiously, the tube narrowed in the middle as though it were some massive hourglass, and in the center, where the glass would have met, a book hung suspended in midair.

  The tome was just floating there, radiating light and power like a small, personal star. Colored lights raced through the tubes, condensing into tiny beams of energy that shot into—and were apparently absorbed by—the strange book. Looking at the tube, book, and the assembled Mages, Sam couldn’t help but feel deeply uncertain about all of this.

  It was nothing Sam could point to exactly, no tangible item, but the hairs on the back of his neck stood at attention all the same, and a thoroughly unpleasant tingle raced along his spine. There was something subtly off about this whole display—especially the stony faces and lifeless gazes of the council members arrayed on their platform.

  There was nothing Sam could do about it now, though. He’d already come too far, and if he didn’t sign The Accords, he’d get slapped with the label Rogue Mage and his days as a magic-user would be done for. He’d have to go back to the drawing board and play as a Ranger or a Fighter, and that didn’t even account for all the money he’d already spent at the College. This was weird, and he didn’t like it, but for now, this was his future.

  Ahead of him, Octavius cleared his throat and shot a glare at Sam strong enough to strip paint. Octavius tilted his head and pointed at the steps beside him with one finger. Sam nodded, feeling oddly numb, and joined him.

  “Most esteemed Council and our Excellence,” Octavius formally intoned, dipping his head in a bow, “may I present a new candidate for induction, Sam_K. Though not a Noble or a native of our lands, he has shown himself to be a rather rare Aeolus Sorcerer, a natural Mage, and will undoubtedly be a boon to our most prestigious order. It was I who found him and I who convinced him to join our ranks—not merely as a Licensed Mage but as a full member.”

  The man in the grandiose chair stood with a groan, his girth making the process precarious, and raised a hand, shushing the quiet chattering from the stands. “Well met, Peak Student Octavius Igenitor. Once more, you bring honor to your house and to the College. If you continue as you have, soon you will be ready to advance once more and join the ranks of our Journeymen. As for you, boy…”

  The man pinned Sam in place with beady, cold eyes. “If you work hard and follow the will of your betters, you too may find your way into our exalted ranks, but the road is an arduous, costly one and requires the utmost obedience.”

  “The first step on that journey, a step of humility and trust in the College, is to sign The Accords.” He turned and waved a plump hand toward the book suspended in the huge columns of glass. “The Accords, you see, are the sacred pact of our people. Magic is a powerful and potentially destructive force, and allowing it into the hands of the uncouth—those wholly unfit and lacking moral authority—is unacceptable.”

  “Those who do not bend to our way of thinking must never have access to the deep secrets of our ways. It is by signing these Accords that we all acknowledge that fundamental truth. It is by signing that you, Neophyte, submit yourself to the tutelage, tradition, and authority of this College. By signing, you recognize that your wild will must be supplemented by the wisdom of ours. Do you, Sam_K, agree to sign The Accords?”

  The question hung heavy in the air; every eye was fixed on Sam now, and the whole room seemed to have stopped breathing as they waited on his answer. Every word the Archmage had said set Sam on edge, but he was probably just overreacting. Besides, this was just a game, Sam reminded himself. It felt like more than a game because of the graphics and how immersive the experience was, but in reality, this was just a game.

  He wasn’t really signing away his life or his rights. In all likelihood, Sam was going through some preprogrammed cutscene that all magic users were probably going to have to endure. He was making a mountain out of a molehill, which was just silly. He shook away his unease and nodded.

  “Of
course, I’m ready to sign,” he croaked, his throat oddly dry. “I already paid the fee, right? Time to learn some cool magic. Let’s do this thing.”

  “Excellent,” the Archmage breathed, rubbing his flabby hands together greedily. “Then I declare you are no longer a Neophyte but a Novice of our exalted Order. Approach, Novice Sam_K, and sign The Accords as is our tradition!”

  The whole room let out an odd, collective, palpable sigh of relief, then promptly burst into a round of wild applause. Octavius grabbed Sam by the shoulder and steered him up the marble stairs, stopping on a platform directly in front of the glowing book. The floating tome sprang open at once, the pages fluttering like mad before finally coming to a stop on a blank section with a line running across the bottom—ready and waiting for Sam to put his name on something he didn't fully understand.

  His lawyer parents would be having fits right now. Although it was probably a dumb thought, Sam couldn’t help but feel the book was actually alive somehow; it’s open pages strangely reminded him of a predatory animal ready to snap its mouth closed on some unsuspecting animal.

  Sam licked his lips, sweat beading on his forehead, and extended a trembling hand. A beautiful quill of shining, blue light—a construct of pure Mana—materialized above the book, just mere inches from his outstretched fingers. Before Sam could overthink the situation and harpoon his chances of success with the College, he grasped the quill.

  Energy surged through his hand, and he quickly jotted his name across the line. A small arc of power leaped from The Accords the second Sam finished writing, racing up his arm and blasting into the core of his being like a jolt of raw lightning. As that power washed through him like a wave, sweet relief and sharp-minded clarity followed.

  “Why was I so worried about this?” Sam muttered, genuinely confused about how he could have had any possible reservations. Maybe he didn’t fully understand what the Accords were, but it was now as crystal clear that they were good. Maybe Sam had a few issues with the College itself… but all that had to do with the snobby people. People like Octavius. Certainly, it had nothing to do with The Accords, which were the pillars that kept the institution from collapsing down on top of everyone. In fact, the Accords, the rule of law, were the only thing that kept people like Octavius in check.

  A message appeared while those thoughts churned inside his skull:

  Quest alert: The Arcane Path I. You have joined the Mage’s College and signed The Accords, stepping onto the Arcane Path! Exp: 500.

  For being one of the first 100 Travelers to sign The Accords, Reputation gain has been doubled! (Note: this is uncommon in a harsh, uncaring world such as Eternium, but so is being one of the first to do something!) Reputation with the Mage’s College has been increased by 2000 points, from ‘Neutral’ directly to ‘Friendly’ (bypassing ‘Reluctantly friendly’). 1000 reputation points remain to reach ‘Friend of the Mage’s College’ status.

  Since this is your first reputation gain, please note that there are many distinct levels of reputation. From lowest to highest: Blood Feud, Loathed, Hated, Hostile, Cautious, Neutral, Reluctantly Friendly, Friendly, Friend, Ally, and Extended Family. There are one thousand points between each level.

  As he read, Sam felt a new surge of power; golden light swirled around him in a cloud, lifting him into the air. He’d never felt anything even remotely like the sheer euphoria zipping through his veins and blazing along his nerve endings. It was the bliss of a good night’s sleep, the exhilaration of winning a marathon or acing a midterm, the intoxication of power, and a sense that nothing was impossible. Putting two and two together, Sam quickly realized that he must’ve leveled up. If this was what leveling up felt like… Sam needed to revise his earlier thoughts.

  Eternium would never go out of business. No matter how hard the gameplay was or how much it cost, people would give up their left arm just to experience this brief flash of ecstasy over and over again. Then just like that, Sam was back on the ground, the light fading and dying while the onlookers hooted, hollered, and cheered, a legion of fists pumping in the air. Sam wanted to check out his character sheet, but he didn’t have a chance.

  Octavius led him out of the room, then twirled around and stood in front of him, arms crossed and a wicked grin on his otherwise smug face. “Congratulations on leveling up, Novice. Now, let me welcome you to our exalted ranks by giving you your first formal College assignment.”

  He paused, his smile deepening in a supremely unfriendly way. “Sewer Detail.”

  Quest alert: The Arcane Path II (Ongoing). As a Licensed Mage and Novice of the Mage’s College, you are required to complete daily chores or officially sanctioned assignments on behalf of the College! Report daily to Peak Student Octavius Igenitor for details—failing to do so will earn you fines or other punitive measures and can result in loss of reputation with the Mage’s College!

  Oh joy, Sam’s stomach started sinking. Sewer Detail; that was going to be fun. He wondered if it was as crappy a job as it sounded.

  Chapter Ten

  Sam found himself wading knee-deep through a slow-moving river of sewage beneath the city of Ardania. As the kid of an upper-crust family with massive real-estate holdings, their own private estate, and pretty much the best of anything that money could buy, Sam had never been in a place remotely like this before. He’d watched enough movies and played enough online games for the setting to feel familiar, but the reality was far worse than he ever could’ve imagined. For the first time, he was very happy about his terrible perception.

  The tunnels were old, gray brick, covered with patches of black mold and green slime. There were cloth-wrapped torches along the walls at even intervals, orange firelight illuminating the passageway and casting deep pools of dancing shadow. Sadly, even the torches did nothing to eliminate the unnatural cool, damp air in the sewers, which cut through his simple robes all the way to the bone. The fact that Sam was standing in frigid sludge also didn’t help things, but he supposed cold sludge was probably preferable to warm, fresh sludge. As a small silver lining, with his ungodly low perception he hardly even noticed the smell.

  So, there was that, at least. Plus, Octavius was nowhere to be seen. So, a win overall? The ‘Peak Student’ had shoved him down here into this dank pit but apparently had better things to do than babysit ‘riffraff’ on such a common mission. Sam was glad. Sure, it would’ve been mildly cathartic to see the prissy jerk wading through the muck and mud like him with unspeakable things squelching between his toes, but then he’d also have to listen to him rant about dim-witted commoners. Sam wasn’t completely alone; there was another pair of low-level Novices present, along with two warriors.

  The first warrior was a tanky Fighter, named Geffrey the Red, who was broad as a barn and wearing heavy, silver-edged plate mail. Warrior number two, Karren the Blade, was lean, covered in chainmail, and carried a finger-slim rapier. The two of them were local guards—both NPCs as far as Sam could tell—and the guides for this particular mission.

  The small party was waiting for one more latecomer, so Sam decided to use the time to check out his character stats now that he’d leveled up. As an Aeolus Sorcerer, he automatically gained one point of intelligence and wisdom on every even level, but he wouldn’t get any points to manually distribute until he hit his next level. Still, he couldn’t help glancing at the changes even though he knew they were going to be minimal at this point.

  “Delta Status,” he mumbled under his breath—a quick access command which allowed him to review only the portions of his character sheet that had changed.

  Name: Sam_K ‘High Five, I Tried!’

  Class: Aeolus Sorcerer

  Profession: Locked

  Level: 2 Exp: 1,000 Exp to next level: 2,000

  Hit Points: 70/70 (60+(10)*)

  Mana: 190/190 (12.5 per point of intelligence-20% (Mana manipulation))

  Mana regen: 5.23/sec (.25 per point of wisdom+20% (Coalescence))

  Stamina: 65/65 (50+(10)**+(5)***)<
br />
  *10 points for each point in Constitution, once it has increased above 10.

  **5 points for each point in Strength, once it has increased above 10.

  ***5 points for each point in Constitution, once it has increased above 10.

  Characteristic: Raw score (Modifier)

  Strength: 12 (1.12)

  Dexterity: 14 (1.14)

  Constitution: 11 (1.11)

  Intelligence: 19 (1.19)

  Wisdom: 19 (1.19)

  Charisma: 13 (1.13)

  Perception: 7 (0.07)

  Luck: 15 (1.15)

  Karmic Luck: +2

  Looking over his stats, Sam was starting to get frustrated. He hadn’t done a ton in the game yet, but this was his second full day, and his numbers seemed like they’d barely budged at all! His intelligence and wisdom had both increased by two points apiece, and his Mana regeneration rate was up a good little bit, but the rest of his stats were the same, and his total Mana reserve was down significantly. After doing a little mental math, Sam realized that without the Mana manipulation skill zapping twenty percent of his overall pool, he’d be up closer to two hundred fifty Mana.

  Yep, definitely a downer, so no point in dwelling on that. Besides, he needed to think about the long game, and skills like Mana manipulation would definitely pay out big time further down the road. “I’ll be amazing soon enough, yup. I got this. Go Team Sam!”

  The sudden splash of feet through rancid water caught Sam’s ear, and he promptly dismissed his character sheet as the last member of the party arrived. He was a willowy young man—probably a year or two younger than Sam—with a shock of corn-silk hair, a set of glasses perched on a hawkish nose, and a wiry frame draped with robes that seemed far too big for him.