Tartum and Elizabeth were still admiring the tankards when Savall returned. He looked sick to his stomach and had a disgusted look on his face. “My Gods, what a horribly wretched woman! Why the hells is she only in her underwear?!?” Savall shuddered, “It’s enough to make a man celibate.”
Tartum didn’t want to re-live the memory of what he saw in Adonna’s office and offered no explanation, instead he tried to change the subject. “Take a look at these, Boss.” Tartum said motioning towards the tankards on his desk. “I got em out of Adonna’s office, any idea what kind of metal the white or black one are? I can’t figure it out for the life of me.” he said.
Tartum thought Savall seemed grateful for the distraction, as he picked up the white tankard. Looking at it closely, his eyes suddenly got very wide. “Son, this isn’t metal, it’s dragon bone. This tankard might be worth more than everything in this room!” he said. His voice shook slightly, as he realized the fortune he held in his hand.
Tartum’s interest was peaked, and he wanted the tankard back, but chose against demanding it from him. Instead he chose a different approach, “That’s fantastic, Boss! What about this one?” he asked, as he offered the black one to Savall and reached for the dragon bone mug.
Reluctantly, Savall returned the dragon bone tankard and took the black one from Tartum. With one more longing gaze at the tankard in Tartum’s hand, Savall began to inspect the black one. After a moment he flicked the side of the mug, and it resonated with a high pitched whine. In a weird way Tartum thought it sounded like a baby bird crying for its mother.
“What you have here, Tartum, is obsidian, but its been hardened with something; otherwise it would be brittle and covered in cracks and scratches. As it stands, whatever is hardening it has made it very strong.” Savall put the tankard back down on the table and looked at the rest of them.
“It would seem you found yourself a very nice collection of drinking mugs, son. It’s too bad you couldn’t recover the other four, but these six are quite nice. Would you be interested in selling me the black one?” Savall asked. The expression on his face was unreadable, but Tartum felt that he really wanted it.
“Well, Boss, I’m always looking for new spells. Have any scrolls lying around you’ve been saving for a special trade?” Tartum tried to match Savall’s blank stare but doubted he was having any luck.
Savall thought it over for a moment and opened his desk. Tartum heard him rummaging around, and then he stood up and handed him a scroll that was yellowed and brittle. Tartum carefully took the rolled parchment from him and gently unraveled it. The spell contained was called Floric Dispersal Hand Corrosive; which meant nothing to Tartum. It required a leopard frog’s tongue and involved rubbing the tounge between your hands while saying the words of power. The tongue would change into a corrosive acid that could be flung at or wiped on a target and it would dissolve anything it touched into nothingness. Tartum’s jaw hit the ground as he looked up at Savall.
Savall smiled and placed the black dragon tankard on his shelf. “I’ll take that look to mean we have a deal, son. As for payment for successfully completing your mission, here ya go.” Savall tossed two large bags full of coins on his desk. “You two earned it for putting up with that vile woman and for not just killing her outright; can’t say I could have blamed you if ya did. Good job. I’ll contact you later about your next mission.” he said.
With that, they were dismissed.
Tartum gathered up his remaining tankards, while Elizabeth picked up the bags and together they left Savall’s office. When they arrived in Tartum’s room, he put his remaining tankards on his shelves. Arranging them so they all faced the same direction, he turned to see what Elizabeth thought. The look on her face gave Tartum pause, she seemed to be trying to figure something out.
“Umm, babe? Are you ok?” he asked.
Elizabeth looked at him and then looked down. Tartum wasn’t positive, but he thought she seemed ashamed of something. Without looking up, she answered him. “I don’t know how to say this, I really want that golden one, but I don’t have any magical scrolls or anything like that to offer in trade.” She said. Tartum saw she was incredibly embarrassed and looked like she was going to leave.
Walking over to the gold tankard, Tartum picked it up off the shelf and gave it to Elizabeth. “Here you go, babe. You’ve taught me so much and shown me even more. I never would have gotten through tonight without you, and I somehow doubt that’s going to change anytime soon. This tankard is the least I can do to repay you. Consider it my way of saying thank you for everything you do for me. I love you, babe.” He said. The sincerity in his voice brought tears to her eyes.
“I love you too, Sweetheart!” she said, as she took the tankard and wrapped her arms around him for a kiss.
…
The next morning, Tartum awoke and bound his new scroll into his spell book first thing. His spell casting woke Elizabeth up, and they spent the morning making small talk and talking about how successful his first two missions had been. Elizabeth went on and on over how grateful she was from her gold tankard and how much it meant to her. Tartum was pleased to know she was happy but found he really didn’t care. He was itching to try out his new spell. A few hours into their morning, Tartum excused himself and headed over to Rashlarr’s room. Walking down the hallway, he was relieved to hear the sounds of Rashlarr’s voice. Tartum thought it sounded like he was casting a spell, so he walked silently down the corridor that lead to his main chamber. He didn’t want to accidentally disturb Rashlarr and cause a catastophic failure. Turning the corner, Tartum saw Rashlarr take a deep breath and exhale violently. Bright orange flames came bursting out of his mouth and filled the room with their intensity. Tartum brought up his arms to shield himself from the flames. When the heat died down, Tartum slowly lowered his arms and saw Rashlarr looking at him with an amused smile on his face.
“Hello, Jade Mage, are you here for more sparrow feathers? Or are you just here hoping to get fried by one of my spells?” Rashlarr said. He was in a fine mood and didn’t seem at all upset by Tartum’s unannounced visit.
“No, Masters, I still have plenty of feathers. Thank you for that, by the way! I come because I need to ask for more training and, perhaps, some leopard frog tongues if you have any.” Tartum replied.
Rashlarr walked over to one of his tables and picked up a towel. Wiping his face and hands, he looked at Tartum with interest. “What could you possibly need leopard frog tongues for? I don’t recall teaching you anything that called for a component that exotic.” he said.
Tartum was excited. “Savall traded me a scroll the other night for a tankard I took from a mission. It’s called Floric Dispersal Hand Corrosive. I’m not exactly sure what that means, but I need the tongues in order to try it out. Also, I found Jeth in my room a few days ago and would like to see to it that doesn’t happen again. With Vaund playing with Buddy most of the day, he’s not always around to guard the room, so I was hoping you would show me the enchantment you put up that stops people from coming in without these rings.” He said, pointing at the ring he still wore.
Rashlarr seemed to be thinking over what Tartum said and then replied. “Well, you already know a warding spell. I would suggest simply enchanting your door with it. It’s a rather effective spell from what I remember. If it wasn’t for Calimsha, it would have given me a nasty shock. More than enough to teach Jeth a lesson in privacy.” he said. Reaching for a quill, he began writing something down on a parchment he had laid out on the table.
Tartum felt foolish, he had thought about warding his door but worried that if someone was hurt or killed by the spell he might get in trouble. However, if Rashlarr’s ward would kill intruders, why shouldn’t his be able to as well? Remembering his main reason for the visit, Tartum readdressed Rashlarr. “What about the tongues?” he asked.
Rashlarr looked up from his writing and gave Tartum a fixed look. “I have them, but they are difficult to aquire, I won’t just give t
hem away, what do you offer in trade?” he asked.
Tartum was confused. “Umm, what…what do you want?” he asked.
Rashlarr began writing again, without looking up he answered. “The Boss told me about the tankard he got from you, and I saw the golden one Elizabeth has. Savall informed me you have one made of silver that’s identical to them. I tell you what, you give me the silver tankard and I’ll give you my entire supply of leopard frog tongues. Sound good?” he asked.
Tartum thought about his offer for a moment. He really didn’t like giving away the tankards, but he also really wanted the tongues. It made sense that Rashlarr should be compensated for giving him the spell components, but why the tankard? “Why do you want it so badly?” he asked. “Are they magical?”
Rashlarr laughed, “No, Jade Mage, not at all. They are however, extremely well made, and just like anyone else, I like to collect treasures. Plus, I know it’s really the only item you have worth trading for a rare spell component like the tongues. Look around, Tartum, you’re surrounded by treasure hunters and you now have tresure. Your days of receiving items for free are ending. Do you agree to the trade, or no?” he seemed to be growing tired of the conversation.
Not wanting to irratate him any further, and desperately wanting the tongues, Tartum nodded his agreement. Leaving Rashlarr’s room, Tartum went back to retrieve the silver tankard. As he held the tankard, he thought about what Rashlarr had told him. He realized that giving up the tankard didn’t matter to him, getting the frog tongues was what was important, not some stupid cup. He quickly came to the understanding that he had an advantage when dealing with the other members. He would use the treasures he collected during his missions not for trophies uselessly collecting dust on shelves in his room, but to trade to the others for spells and components they had. Happy with this new turn of events, Tartum quickened his pace and made it back to his Master’s room, much more excited than when he left.
Rashlarr didn’t look up when Tartum entered; instead he pointed to a jar that was full of oily pink tissues Tartum assumed were the tongues. He put the tankard down next to the jar and inspected the contents. The jar seemed to be stuffed to the point that made him think they might spill out once he opened the lid.
“Do not leave them exposed to the air for very long. The oil they’re in preserves them as long as they’re coated and won’t interfere with the spell casting process. If you leave them exposed too long, the oil will evaporate, and the tongues will become useless. That’s my entire supply, so don’t come asking me for anymore.” Rashlarr said from his table. He was sitting and reading through the pages of a book apparently looking for something. Judging by his mood, he wasn’t having much success.
“Thank you, Masters!” Tartum said as he was leaving. Rashlarr called out to him on his way out.
“Stop calling us that. Refer to me as Rashlarr from now on! Your training is over, and I’m no longer your master. Also, Calimsha says the spell is called Fluoric Hands. Not that long winded dribble some scribe wrote in the scroll. Be extremely careful once you’ve cast that spell, it will destroy the first thing it touches, whether that be your target, your staff, or Elizabeth. Not even your dome spell will protect you from its effects.” he said.
Tartum knew Rashlarr’s words were meant as a warning, but the prospect of the raw destructive force his new spell had thrilled him to no end. As he walked into the training room, the torches burst into life, and Tartum saw the barren, four hundred square-yard room he had come to love. Looking around, he was disappointed to see there were no tables or chairs in the room. It didn’t take him long to find a couple of chairs from elsewhere in the compound and bring them back to the training room.
Tartum’s heart was beating rapidly, and he took a few deep breaths to steady it. Placing one of the chairs in the middle of the room, Tartum unsealed his jar of frog tongues. The smell wasn’t as terrible as he thought is was going to be, they almost smelled like flowers. Taking a tongue out of the jar, he was stunned by how long and elastic it was. The oil they were perserved in made it slippery, but he didn’t have much trouble holding onto it. Putting all of the unimportant details out of his mind, he opened himself to the magic; infusing the tongue as he rubbed it between his hands. Tartum began to invoke the words to his spell.
“Ackalwa zon kwee. Ru-xund ala twet!” he said, and the tongue began to foam and bubble between his hands. For an instant, he felt an intense searing pain and screamed in shock. The feeling passed quickly, and Tartum opened his hands to see how badly they were burned. Instead, he saw a thick, viscous, substance hovering slightly above the palms of his hands. It had a gelatinous texture that made it easier to hold than a liquid would have been, but he knew if he wasn’t careful it would fall onto the floor, and his spell would be wasted. Tartum wiped his hands on the chair and watched as the corrosive, green substance leapt off his hands and attacked the chair, as if it was alive and very hungry. The chair was well crafted and had been hardened by years of use, but that didn’t stop his spell. It ate through the wood of the chair like it was tissue, with no more than a slight hissing sound as it worked. As the last bit of the chair was dissolved, Tartum looked at the nothingness that was left. There was no sign that a chair had just been destroyed, no smell, no residue, not even heat. A large grin spread across Tartum’s face as he began thinking of all things he would be capable of with this new ability.
Tartum walked over to his second chair and placed it where the first had just been. Taking another tongue from the jar, he infused it with magic just as he did with the first.
“Ackalwa zon kwee. Ru-xund ala twet!” he repeated and felt the same bubbling feeling as from the first casting. He was prepared for the searing heat and grit his teeth against the pain. It passed as quickly as the first time, and Tartum looked into his palms. Seeing the viscous mass in his hands once again, Tartum took a few steps away from the chair and flung the substance at the chair. His aim was a little off, and Tartum thought his shot would land to the left of his target. As the mass flew, it seemed to detect it was off course and readjusted its flight to hit the chair. He had used his right hand to throw the goo at the chair; now as it redirected its flight, the remainer of the acid in his left hand flew out and both globs hit the chair at the same time. Stunned by the sudden movement, Tartum looked down at his left hand to see it was as clean and empty as his right. Looking back up to the chair, he saw the corrosive substance had eaten away most of it and was working its way down the remaining legs.
“Dero-yu af-gwad!” He yelled. The substance immediately went inert and disappeared into thin air. Tartum walked over to where four wooden stumps lay; moments ago they had been the legs of the chair. Picking one up, Tartum lightly touched the end that was being dissolved by the acid before he dispelled it. It didn’t burn him, the remains weren’t even hot.
Smiling, Tartum dropped the ruined leg he was holding and stood up and replaced the top of the jar containing the frog tongues. Releasing his grip on the magic, Tartum walked out and headed back to his room. He was very happy with the trades he had made, and couldn’t wait for his next mission so he could acquire new treasures to barter for even more powerful and fantastic spells.
…
Over the next few months, Tartum’s life was a blur of missions. He and Elizabeth were sent out two or three times a week in that first month to grab up a person or steal an item of great monetary or emotional worth. One item in particular that Tartum found very odd was a blacksmith’s anvil. Getting into the shop had been no problem at all; finding the anvil was even easier, as it was dead center in the middle of the workplace. The problem was, it must have weighed over three hundred pounds and the combined strength of Elizabeth and Tartum couldn’t budge it.
For the life of them, they could not figure out how they were going to accomplish their mission, but the night was young, and they had more than enough time to think. In the end, they headed over to a nearby tavern and found four very strong and very drunk men
to help them load the anvil onto a wagon they had pilfered along the way. Paying them each a few coins and telling them a story about moving away to avoid the landlord, the men they hired had the anvil picked up and loaded onto the wagon in ten minutes. They were back at the guild with their prize before the moon began its decline towards the horizon. They had laughed heartily when explaining that to Savall.
In another mission, Tartum was kidnapping a woman’s prize sow for a client that said she owed him rent. He grabbed the pig and was half way back to the compound when it got loose and ran away. He and Elizabeth spent the rest of the night tracking the animal down and finally caught up to it knee deep in a trash pit. When the client told them the debt was settled and not to return the pig, it was Tartum that slaughtered it and had it roasted. He never had pork that tasted so good.
He did his first solo mission about a month after he and Elizabeth had sucessfully kidnapped Adonna. He had been so scared! He was used to having Elizabeth with him, and now to be alone felt like his first mission all over again. Although it was a simple snatch and grab involving a risque painting of a well off merchant’s wife, he couldn’t shake his fear. He stood outside the window of the mark’s home for an hour trying to build up the courage to break in. The merchant was no fool and had guards posted at the front and back door of his house. Tartum was able to get in through a window someone had forgotten to shut and made it to the painting, undetected. As he removed the portrait from the wall, he stepped on something that shattered and alerted the guards outside. He was forced to use his entanglement spell on the merchant and his wife, but had to fight the guards. He took a nasty cut to his arm during the fight, and if it hadn’t been for his dome spell, he doubted he would have gotten away at all. In the end he only killed one of the guards and sprinted straight back to the guild with the portrait. Savall dubbed his mission a success, and Tartum had taken the next week off to allow his arm to heal.
The Jade Mage: The Becoming: Volume 2 Page 4
