Bond of Magic

by Trip Ellington

  He would just have to try. Mithris had created his own spells before, in moments of desperation. He remembered seeing Deinre in his laboratory, puzzling over new spells. Back then, the young apprentice just assumed Deinre was trying to remember a forgotten incantation. Now he knew he had seen a master craftsman at work. Though he could never live up to Deinre’s legacy, somehow Mithris felt like his old master when he pieced a new spell together.

  He studied the spell he’d used on the devinist, trying to pick out the relevant phrases and imagery. He flipped back to another spell, one used for scrying. That one was relatively simple, and he plucked out three lines to use in his new creation. He added strong heat wards to form a surface to the portal. Then he went back to the first spell, trying to discern what had dragged that devinist relentlessly through. He scrawled his composition in progress on a blank page near the back of the grimoire.

  At last, Mithris had it. At least, he thought he did. The only way to find out was to cast his spell and see what resolved.

  It makes all of us quite nervous when you get creative, said Vapor.

  “Thanks a lot,” Mithris answered, scowling. “Your confidence is appreciated. Now shut up. I need your help.”

  The young wizard stood up and moved back to the edge. Drawing on all three foundation crystals for power, he read his painstakingly composed incantation aloud.

  The spell resolved slowly, forming a large distortion in the air that looked just like an enormous soap bubble wobbling in midair. The floating bubble had an oily surface splashed with rainbow colors. Within the bubble, an image grew. It was the lip of the caldera, high above. As the image filled the soap bubble, it grew increasingly realistic and less distorted until at last it seemed that Mithris could simply step through the hole in the air and be outside the volcano.

  Surrounded by a faintly iridescent corona, an egg-shaped area of the outside world floated in midair above the hissing, bubbling lava. Mithris grinned. Next, he needed to pull something through. He focused on a small rock near the opening. Reading the second part of his spell, Mithris raised a beckoning hand and summoned the rock through.

  Nothing happened.

  Mithris frowned and dismissed the portal. The spell still needed work. He hesitated a moment, then cast the spell again. This time, he directed the other end of his magic to the tiny cleft of solid rock on which Ember rested below the surface of magma.

  The same soap bubble began forming, this time filling in with a hot, reddish swirling mass. Intense heat radiated from the portal, and some of the lava began seeping through. The warding wasn’t strong enough! With a yelp, Mithris revoked the spell.

  Naught for two, said Vapor, sounding disappointed.

  “One for three,” corrected Mithris. “At least I opened the portal. Now let’s see…” Determined, the young wizard went back to work.

  Chapter 38

  Chaos Below and Above

  Mithris cast his revised spell and watched the soap bubble form in the air. Lava surged and roiled on the other side of the shielded portal, but it did not leak through. Nor did waves of unbearable heat roll over the young wizard. So far so good.

  When the portal stabilized, Mithris began the second part of his incantation. He sent a tendril of magic energy through the portal. He felt it penetrate the barrier and became aware, in a distant and ethereal way, of the intense heat. He focused on Ember, sitting on its submerged ledge.

  What he attempted was essentially the same as summoning a pitcher of water from the other side of the room. That was a basic spell, and one he had performed too many times for counting. It was more difficult, somehow, working through the portal. His invisible pseudopod of magic felt weaker on the other side.

  Mithris had worried over that for nearly an hour, sitting on his ledge above the lava. It was Depths, speaking through Vapor, that had given him the answer. What he was doing was much like fishing. He dropped his line below the liquid surface and hoped to snag a catch. But Ember was not a fish.

  Mithris spoke a few words and wiggled his fingers. The far end of his magical extension flattened out, forming a shallow cup that hung suspended in the lava at an angle to the foundation crystal. Now Mithris drew out Depths from his pocket, and spoke four more arcane words. Concentrating, he commanded the lava itself to obey him.

  The strain was tremendous. Mithris was casting three spells simultaneously. Holding each one in place was difficult. It might have been impossible, even had he been fully trained. But Mithris called on Depths, and the near-limitless power of the foundation crystal allowed him to direct the swirling currents within the lava.

  An eddy formed in that current, curling around the ledge on which Ember rested. The swirling of lava pushed at the firestone, easing it from its position toward Mithris’ spatulate tendril. Ember rocked slightly, then tipped. It lifted slightly on the current, drifting.

  Mithris clenched his teeth. Almost there.

  Ember teetered on the edge. It tilted forward, ready to fall. If Mithris missed his catch, the foundation crystal would sink deeper in the lava. There was no telling how far it would fall before catching on another protrusion of solid rock within that furnace.

  Ember tipped and fell. Mithris seized at it with his magic.

  Magical energy wrapped around the foundation crystal, securing it within a bubble of magic. He had it! Mithris blew out the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. Grinning in triumph, he wound his magic string back toward the portal. The bubble at its far end spun and wobbled, buffeted by the currents of lava.

  Beneath the young wizard on his ledge, the surface of the molten lake bubbled. An enormous bubble rose near the center of the fiery caldera, then burst. Globs of cooling magma splashed high in the air. Some struck the rock of Mithris’ ledge, and one caught the hem of his robe. The cloth sizzled and burst into flame.

  Mithris gasped and nearly lost his hold on the magic lasso. Within its bubble of magic, Ember trembled.

  Closing his eyes and fighting panic, Mithris shouted a water cantrip. When he opened his eyes, the lower third of his robes had been soaked. Water dripped from the singed hem. The fire was out. The fabric dried almost instantly, the intense heat sucking the moisture hungrily. One fat droplet fell from his robe and evaporated before it hit the ground.

  Mithris drew an unsteady breath, returning his focus to Ember. The foundation crystal was nearly through the portal. Another few feet and it would emerge. He began pulling, reeling it in. The currents buffeting his prize immediately grew stronger. Below his ledge, another massive bubble formed and burst.

  “What’s happening?” he cried.

  You’re disturbing the currents of Mount Wileth, Vapor informed him. It is a small change, but even the tiniest change can ripple out to impact a much larger piece of the world, like a drop in a pond.

  “But what can I do? I need to get Ember out of there.”

  Depths explains it like this: One drop in a pond won’t make much difference. It will ripple and then fade. But if you place many drops into the pond, they make many ripples. Those ripples crash into one another, creating chaos on the surface and below.

  “Okay,” Mithris said slowly.

  When you drag Ember quickly, you’re changing many of Mount Wileth’s currents without allowing any of your previous changes to fade. Eventually, Mount Wileth will respond to the chaos you’ve created, just as the surface of a pond becomes turbulent during a rainstorm. You must find the balance between changing things too much and not changing them enough. Do you understand?

  “Got it. Go slowly.” Mithris shook his head, peering through the portal at the foundation crystal floating in a bubble of his magic. It was so close. Steadying himself, he began once more pulling it toward him. He moved the crystal in tiny, gradual bursts. The currents still surged all around it, but the violence eased. No further bubbles burst below him.

  That’s it. You’re getting it!

  Mithris paused, allowing the currents to subside. Then he tugged his
string again. Next, he waited once more. Ember was inches from the portal. Another few minutes, and he would have the foundation crystal in his hand. Then he could leave this awful place.

  A deafening crack of thunder split the sky high above Mount Wileth. Mithris heard the rumbling crescendo even above the constant rushing sound of the inferno. He looked up, squinting his eyes against the brilliant splash of colored light that covered the entire area of night sky visible through the volcano’s mouth.

  Within that ghostly aurora a dark speck at the center grew rapidly in size until Mithris could discern its shape. Rushing forth from the center of the rippling blanket of multicolored light flew a carriage.

  Its shape was boxy, roofed but open at the top around the sides. Its four wheels spun as though it raced over the ground rather than soaring through the sky. Obscene carvings and scrollwork decorated the side and front panels that stood waist-high to the two dark, shadowy figures riding within. The carriage was pulled by a team of great serpents that slithered through the dark.

  Mithris stared open-mouthed at the ominous carriage, nearly forgetting Ember and his portal. Feeling the magic waver, he forced himself to concentrate.

  There was not much time now. He could hear the hissing of those massive vipers, heralding the impending arrival of certain doom. Mithris trembled. A Chaos Lord came for him.

  Chapter 39

  Eaganar

  “By the foundations!” swore Mithris, giving Ember a sharp tug. The magma surface roiled and bubbled angrily, but Mithris yanked again. He had to get the crystal free before that awful carriage reached him.

  Set your wards, urged Vapor. Mithris had never heard the crystal so anxious before.

  That was because they had never faced a Chaos Lord. Mithris spared a glance up, to where the carriage was descending through the jagged mouth of Mount Wileth. Two figures rode in that carriage. Mithris could only stare at the one driving the team of serpents with its long, barbed whip.

  Lit crimson by the fiery inferno, the Chaos Lord’s slick, reptilian skin glistened. His eyes, the color of blood, blazed in echo of the volcano’s primal fury. At his temples, two pairs of crescent-shaped white horns curved toward the crown of his head where a single horn sprouted like some perverse unicorn. He wore a shining steel breast plate over a black, cowled robe; matching steel arm guards protected his muscular forearms.

  Set the wards!

  “I’ll drop Ember if I split my concentration any further,” protested Mithris.

  Do it now!

  “But I have an idea,” said Mithris, eyes still glued to the black carriage. The serpents writhed their way down the swirling, superheated air. Their slitted eyes fixed back on the young wizard. Forked tongues flickered in and out of lipless, hungry mouths.

  Oh no… said Vapor.

  Mithris tightened his hold on Ember and yanked his magic string violently. Ember jerked and launched itself toward the portal. Releasing his hold on the portal itself, Mithris threw himself to the rear of his ledge. Slamming against the rock wall, he fell and cowered.

  The surface of the lava pit burst forth in a geyser of molten rock. The portal snapped shut. Ember fell to the ground, bouncing once. Mithris had done it! He looked up in time to see the spout of lava crash into the Chaos Lord’s chariot.

  Burning hot magma splashed down all around Mithris, burning into the rocky ledge. Mithris shouted a warding cantrip. His dome of magic resolved just as the lava spout collapsed. A virtual tidal wave of lava swept over his ledge before washing back down to the pit below. Mithris’ ward sizzled and sparked, but held. He looked down frantically. Ember was within the ward.

  Rapidly spitting out a second and then a third warding cantrip, Mithris darted over and snatched up the crystal. It was hot to the touch but did not quite burn him. He shoved it in his pocket, looking up at the flying chariot.

  The magma geyser had seared the flesh of the serpents. They writhed in mid-air, hissing angrily. The chariot itself was unharmed, as were the two figures within. For the first time, Mithris took note of the man — an ordinary human man — standing at the Chaos Lord’s side.

  The reptilian demon cracked its whip. The burned serpents hissed but pulled. Soon the carriage came level with the ledge. The Chaos Lord and its human companion stepped out onto the ledge, just beyond the outermost of Mithris’ wards. The man was a wizard with long flowing robes and a salt-and-pepper beard. His eyes were cold and filled with hate.

  “So.” It was the wizard who spoke, not the Chaos Lord. That grim demon towered at its master’s side, awaiting command. Mithris licked his lips, wondering how he was going to get out of this one. “Mithris. I have you at last.”

  The wizard was surrounded by ghostly haloes, multiple layers of warding that moved with him. Mithris beheld those complex spells with wonder. His own shields could not move, and were far less intricate and powerful than those of his foe. He had never seen the wizard before.

  “Who are you?” he called, surreptitiously flipping through Deinre’s spellbook to find a more powerful ward.

  “Oh, come now.” The dark wizard chuckled. “Surely you’ve guessed that by now?”

  That, said Vapor, is Eaganar.

  The blood drained from Mithris’ face. Eaganar. The wizard who’d slain Master Deinre. His hands started to hurt. Looking down at them, Mithris was surprised to see them clenched into tight, white-knuckled fists. Blood seeped around his fingernails where they bit into his palms. He looked back up at the murderer and pushed down his fear.

  It was surprisingly easy. The rage he felt helped.

  “You killed my Master!” he shouted angrily to Eaganar. The dark wizard chuckled again, spreading his arms to the sides and giving a courtly bow like an actor on the stage acknowledging applause.

  “And now I shall kill his apprentice,” said Eaganar, rising from the bow. His lips curled in a sneer and he placed particular emphasis on the word apprentice.

  “You need a Chaos Lord to defeat an apprentice?” taunted Mithris. “I had heard you were a powerful wizard, but I suppose that was a lie!”

  What are you doing? Vapor sounded incredulous and nearly frantic.

  Looming next to the dark wizard, the Chaos Lord emitted a rumbling growl from deep in its throat. Fires danced in its blood-red eyes. It flexed its thick-fingered hands threateningly. But Eaganar laughed and waved the demon down.

  “The child thinks he is a wizard,” Eaganar said mockingly. “Deinre was a fool, boy. His tower fell in minutes. Did you know your master wept as he died? He begged me for mercy.”

  “That’s a lie!”

  “Is it?” Eaganar stepped forward, raising his staff. It was topped with a very realistic looking human skull. Mithris was not entirely sure the skull was carved from the same wood as the staff. Eaganar smiled darkly. “Is it really? Your master sniveled and whined like a dog, boy! You will do the same!”

  Eaganar thrust his skull-headed staff forward at Mithris’ wards and began a lengthy incantation in the darkest serpentine tongue of magic. Ethereal flames burst to light within the cavernous, empty eyes of the skull. Eaganar’s voice rose in volume and pitch as he neared the climax of his casting.

  Mithris swallowed a nervous lump in his throat, struggling to remember his most powerful dueling spells. His wards would collapse in a moment. If he didn’t think of something quick, Eaganar was going to kill him and take all four of the foundation crystals.

  Chapter 40

  The Chaos Lord’s Bargain

  “Perhaps you should consider more carefully, human.” The voice of the Chaos Lord rasped like a knife slicing through leather soaked in blood. Mithris shivered at the sound. Eaganar merely glanced over at the demonic creature in irritation.

  “Perhaps you should keep in mind who summoned you hence, Tzrak,” the wizard said, his voice cold and dangerous.

  “Lord Tzrak,” corrected the demon. Then he opened his mouth in a lengthy yawn of boredom. The pebbly green skin of his head split open in a wide, liples
s maw filled with razor teeth and a thick, bifurcated tongue. “It is you who would do well to remember, human. Remember who it is you summoned with your magic. And remember our deal.”

  Tzrak glanced at Mithris, who stood with hunched shoulders within his wards. The young wizard watched his foes with naked curiosity. The demon lord gave a rumbling growl, and fixed its bloody eyes on Eaganar.

  “A word,” growled the Chaos Lord. Then it turned and stomped to the far end of the ledge. Eaganar followed with suspiciously narrowed eyes, his rising ire plain in the set of his thin, cruel lips.

  “Explain yourself,” demanded the dark wizard.

  Looking askance at Mithris, the Chaos Lord moved closer to Eaganar and spoke to him in a voice too low to carry. Mithris went right up to the innermost of his wards and stood as if pressing his ear to a wall. He did not care if they saw him trying to listen in. They were trying to kill him, after all.

  I don’t think Eaganar really has control of that creature, said Vapor.

  “Of course he doesn’t,” muttered Mithris, still straining to hear what the demon had to say. He thought he caught one word, a word that chilled him. Crystals. “That’s a Chaos Lord. They can’t be controlled like other summoned creatures. Eaganar would have offered a bargain…”

  In that case, I think I’d prefer not to learn the details of that bargain. Mithris, this would be an ideal time to leave.

  “They’ll follow,” said Mithris, but he called to mind the words for the traveling spell anyway.

  The Chaos Lord’s bulbous head jerked up as Mithris began the incantation. Its face twisted in rage. The demon took two long, bounding strides. The whip flashed up, and the Chaos Lord flicked it with the ease of long practice. The whip lashed out and struck the outermost ward.