The Jade Mage: The Becoming: Volume 2

by William D. Latoria

After a week of gloom, Tartum noticed the weather was beginning to improve. The rain had stopped falling, and his body stopped shivering. He was still in bad spirits due to what he had endured, but the relief he felt at the warmth seeping back into his body was quickly mending his ragged nerves. It was in the middle of that first day of relief that Tartum heard sounds coming from ahead of him on the road. The sounds he recognized at once, he had only heard them once before during his stay with the dwarves. It was the sound of fire arms being discharged.

  Opening himself to the magic, Tartum could now hear voices in the distance shouting commands or screaming in pain. Some of the screams he heard were death cries, and it was then he knew for certain a battle was being fought. Pulling up on the reigns, he slowed his horse’s pace as he cautiously made his way closer. He was curious to see the battle but didn’t want to be needlessly drawn into the fight, unless he had to. Although, he had to admit, casting a few of his more devasating spells in anger sounded very appealing to him. He had wanted to vent his frustration on something for the past week, this battle could give him the very opportunity he seeked. The guiding voice in his head was silent; he wasn’t sure if that was a good sign or a bad one.

  As he came around the bend, the battle appeared in front of him. The forest opened up into a clearing where the aggressors had decided to ambush the travelers he now saw fighting for their lives. A dwarven wagon that was easily as large as Oldrake’s had been pushed over, and now a dozen armored dwarves were shooting their firearms at a gang of at least fifty other dwarves that were making their way between the trees towards the entrenched firing line. Tartum could see the battle had just started and already bodies lay motionless on both sides. Tartum wasn’t sure exactly why one group of dwarves were attacking the other. None of it mattered when he saw a huge dwarf on the aggressor’s side come out of hiding to bellow a command.

  “BLURS! KILL THEM ALL! FIRST PICK OF THE SPOILS GO TO THE DWARF THAT BRINGS ME THAT BITCH’S HEAD!” the bandit leader shouted.

  Tartum was stunned by the bandit leader’s appearance. Even with the two hundred or so yards between them the leader was the largest and most intimidating dwarf Tartum had ever laid eyes on. Easily as tall as the dwarven guard he had met in the Bottom Barrel, this man was easily twice his size. His voice commanded respect, and his very presence made Tartum feel compelled to obey his orders. The rest of his features were hidden by the armor he wore, which was easily the most incredible example of oireann stialladh, or shredding suits, that Tartum had ever seen. The armor completely encased him, with only a thin slit in his helm revealing two dwarven eyes within. The solid gold metal had been forged to look like an eagle. Razor sharp feathers had been painstakingly crafted along the body, legs, and arms of the armor that flowed like waves as the man inside moved about. Tartum knew from the shredding suits he’d seen in Windswept that a single touch from the edge of one of those golden feathers would result in a cut so deep it could mean the loss of the limb. The gauntlets and boots of the armor perfectly resembled the claws and talons of an eagle. The attention to detail was so precise that Tartum thought nature could take a lesson or two from the craftsmen involved in their creation. The helmet was the most impressive part of the entire suit. It had been exquisitely created to represent an eagle’s head as it screamed at its prey. Inside the eagle’s beak was where the dwarven bandit’s eyeslit was which did nothing to diminish the effect of the armor’s overall appearance. Tartum watched in awe as the projectiles fired from the defender’s firearms bounced harmlessly off the gleaming armor, showering the dwarf in sparks that only served to increase the armor’s spectacular presense on the field.

  Bolstered by their leader’s words, the attacking dwarven bandits surged from their hiding places in a flurry of gun fire and battle cries. Tartum watched as thirty heavily armed dwarves ran towards the wagon, heedless of the gunfire that came from the defenders. Bullets deflecting off his arrow dome brought him out of his apathy and back into the moment. Looking in the direction the the attacks came from, Tartum saw four dwarves running towards him shooting their guns and waving sinister weapons at him. One of the dwarves was in a shredding suit as well, but it paled in comparison to the one the bandit leader wore. This suit was not crafted to look like an animal; instead it simply had long needlelike spikes sticking out from its surface that gave it the appearance of a bronze porcupine. The helmet and gauntlets had long daggerlike protrusions sticking out of them, and the boots were relatively plain having only a single blade coming from the center of each. Tartum knew had he not seen the bandit leader’s armor first this armor would have intimidated him. As it was, Tartum was almost embarrassed for the dwarf that wore it.

  Reaching for his spell components, Tartum picked out a snake skin, quickly infusing it with his magic. The dwarves charging at him appeared to be in some sort of frenzy as they continued to send volley after volley of bullets at him that bounced harmlessly off his arrow dome. Holding the infused snake skin in front of him, Tartum couldn’t help but grin as he targeted the four dwarves that would soon regret getting out of bed this morning.

  “Shrid-uro niquid ma-ta-dwego. Vajawa heck mono!” he commanded. The snake skin dissolved into his hand, firing five green lines of pain into the dwarves in front of him. Tartum allowed himself to revel in delight as his enemies fell to the ground and began shrieking in pain. The fifth line he guided into the dwarf with the shredding suit. Even though his suit wasn’t as impressive as the golden eagle armor, Tartum did not want to chance the dwarf getting up and attacking him with his armor all the same. To Tartum’s surprise, when the two lines converged on the flailing dwarf, he began to convulse violently just before his head exploded, becoming a cloud of metal and gore.

  Tartum was shocked by this unexpected occurrence. As the decapitated body of the armored dwarf fell to the ground Tartum was overcome with a bout of laughter. Getting control of himself, he saw that his spell had rendered the other three dwarves unconscious. Dropping three rose petals in front of him, Tartum began casting his fire orb spell.

  “Moro-yet krat-tu-veyin doro-peth!” he commanded. The petals burst into white hot orbs of flame. Without hesitation, Tartum sent one orb into each unconscious dwarf ensuring they would not rise to threaten him again. Buddy was growling and barking from inside the wagon, for a moment Tartum debated on letting his pet out of the wagon to join in on the fight. He decided against the idea when he saw the amount of shooting taking place between the two sides, one lucky shot could kill his friend, and the very thought appalled him. For the second time during this battle, Tartum was surprised by an unexpected reaction. Rage boiled inside of him as the idea of Buddy’s death entered his mind. All rational thought was seared from his mind; the only thoughts left to him were primal and dark. All he wanted now was to eradicate the threats and protect his compainion.

  Reaching into his pouches, Tartum brought forth a copper rod. Infusing it with his magic, he cast his lightning bolt spell.

  “Yuik-rena toem-urthma!” he shouted in a voice that dripped with hatred. The rod burst into a ball of energy that seemed to beg to be released into his enemies. Tartum spotted a group of three dwarves maneuvering into position to flank the defenders behind the wagon. It wasn’t that they were the biggest threat to the defenders that he targeted them, it was the fact that they were the closest.

  “ZA-TAN!” he bellowed. The lightning bolt fired out of his hands and slammed into the group of dwarves before they had a chance to see what hit them. The resulting explosion caused a momentary pause to the fighting as everyone turned and looked at him. With his vision turning red, Tartum wasted no time. Picking up a handful of sulfur, he infused it with his magic.

  “Doctay-von-we!” he commanded. Immediately, a ball of green flame, the size of a large dog appeared above his hand. Focusing it into a spinning ball, Tartum pointed at the eagle armored bandit leader.

  “BEATH!!!” he shouted. His fireball flew towards its target. Tartum watched with his magically enhan
ced vision as the dwarf made no attempt to avoid the fireball that was sailing towards him. As his fireball connected with the armor, instead of exploding, the armor absorbed it. Without any discernable effort, the bandit leader’s armor rendered his fireball inert and removed it from existence. For the third time during the battle, Tartum was shocked by yet another unexpected turn of events.

  Tartum could hear the dwarf laughing at him now. The sound grated on his nerves, his hatred focused on the dwarf that dared to mock him. The bandit leader pointed a taloned gauntlet at him before raising his voice loud enough for all to hear.

  “DOUBLE WAGES TO THE DWARF THAT BRINGS MEH THE CASTER’S STAFF!” he shouted. The dwarves took one look at Tartum before sending a volley of gunfire in his direction. Tartum grinned dangerously as the shots bounced harmlessly off his protective dome. Taking another handful of sulfur from his pouch, Tartum targeted a group of unarmored dwarves that were advancing on his position.

  “Doctay-von-we!” he commanded. Another, smaller, green flame appeared above his hand that he focused into a spinning fireball. Targeting the centermost dwarf, Tartum gave the command.

  “Beath!” he said. The fireball took the front dwarf directly in the chest. Not being armored like his leader, the fireball exploded amongst the dwarves that had hoped to double their wages by taking him down and stealing his staff. He watched as his magic flames enveloped the dwarves and turned them into a charred ruin in a matter of moments. Shifting his gaze back to their leader, Tartum mockingly laughed at him as his flames continued to grow. The rest of the bandits that had been watching started backing away from Tartum, while nervously looking towards their leader. Movement from the wagon caught Tartum’s attention, and he looked to see an almost slender dwarf jump up on the wagon, leveling a long barreled firearm toward the bandits.

  Tartum could tell by the newcomer’s stance that this dwarf was a woman. The other indication was the feminine armor that she wore. The armor was made up of red and silver metal which had been crafted in such a way that the armor appeared to be one solid suit of armor. There were no seams or discernable joints viewable on the armor itself, yet when she moved the armor seemed to flow in perfect unison with her body. The arms and legs were covered in runic symbols, while a painstakingly detailed unicorn had been etched into the chest. As far as dwarven armor went, Tartum had never seen the like, but then again, he’d never seen a female dwarven warrior either. The helm she wore was in the shape of a unicorn’s head with an alternating red and silver spiraling horn jutting out from the head.

  The look of anger and determination on her face impressed Tartum. He watched as she cocked back the hammer on her firearm and took aim down the sights.

  “DOITEAIN!” she screamed at her men. Tartum had no idea what she said, but the dwarves around the wagon certainly did. As one, they came out of their defensive positions and fired their weapons into the retreating bandits that had assaulted them. Tartum’s magic had instilled enough fear into the bandits that they forgot to stay behind cover. Now that they were standing in the open and exposed, the female warrior had seen her chance and pounced on it. Tartum watched as the wagon disappeared in a cloud of smoke and noise, as volley after volley was fired into the dwarven bandits. Their aim was true, and it wasn’t long before the bandits that weren’t dead were fleeing for the safety of the forest. Tartum laughed as he watched the golden armored bandit leader flee into the forest at the head of what was left of his men. His laughter helped him release his anger and suddenly Tartum felt very good. All the tension and grouchiness that he had stored up from his journey had been expelled during the battle, and now he felt exhilarated. Jumping down, Tartum opened the door to his wagon and let Buddy out. He immideately began surveying the area with his nose while growling and barking at nothing. Tartum allowed his friend to run around and ensure the area was secure, as he turned his attention back to the dwarves he had just assisted. The fire he started with his final fireball was burning out of control, and Tartum couldn’t help but be impressed with how voracious his spell was. Focusing on the flames, Tartum utter his command.

  “Uush!” he spoke, and the flames winked out immediately. Pulling his staff from his back, Tartum slowly made his way towards the dwarves he had aided. As he approached, one of the dwarves spotted him and called out to the female warrior, clearly marking her as their leader. The female heard the warning, and Tartum saw she was now appraising him. He stopped a few yards from the wagon and waited for her to acknowledge him. He didn’t want to rush things, but he was curious as to why they had been attacked.

  “You, there! Human! What be your name!” the female called out to him from on top of the wagon. Her voice was almost pretty in comparison to the rough and gravely tones of dwarven males. Tartum could tell by her voice that she was used to ordering men around and having them obey, however the shakiness of her tone let him know she was unused to battle, and the aftermath of this one had shaken her.

  “My name is Tartum Fuin, my dear. I mean you no harm. I was just wondering who it was I just saved you from is all.” Tartum said as nonchalantly as he could.

  His words were like acid to the warrior. “Saved us!? Saved us! We had the situation well under control, human! We needed no aid!” she practically spat at him.

  Tartum wasn’t buying her bravado. “Oh, did you?” he asked with a smirk, “So the fact that you were heavily outnumbered, about to be flanked, and didn’t turn the tide until I had killed ten of them was all part of your plan? I admit, I don’t know much about dwarven tactics, but it seems to me that you may need to rethink your strategy next time.” he said pitilessly.

  Tartum watched as his words were absorbed by the warrior. Jumping off the wagon, she landed about ten yards in front of him. It was an impressive feat, considering she jumped from ten feet above the ground, and her armor must have weighed sixty pounds. The look on her face reminded Tartum of the time he had accidentally saved Quaray’s life just before he had offered him honorary membership into his clan. He wondered if that was about to happen here as well. The woman strode up to him confidently until she was just a few feet from him. Tartum leaned on his staff trying to act unintimidated by her posturing. In reality, he was wound tight, awaiting the slightest hint of provocation. He planned to take her down with his staff should she attack.

  “So, you be thinking me tactics are off, do you?” she asked. Her speech was so monotone, he couldn’t tell if she was being sarcastic or threatening. Now that she was close, Tartum saw she was the most beautiful dwarf he had ever seen. Her face was flawless and soft with large brown eyes that seemed innocent yet wise. Her long blond hair looked well cared for and soft. Tartum could tell it was very long, and he wouldn’t have been surprised if it dragged yards behind her had it been allowed too. Her body was extrememly fit, unlike the fat female dwarves he encountered in Windswept. He found himself wondering what she looked like out of her armor.

  Grinning, Tartum answered. “I believe I made that clear.” he said.

  She looked up at him for a moment before a smile burst across her face, and she began to laugh. The sound of her laughter reminded Tartum of a cackling bird. It was infectious, and he soon found himself laughing as well.

  “Well, perhaps you’re right caster, perhaps you’re right indeed.” she said. Holding her fist to her chest, she bowed deeply.

  “Mah name be Jarla Bluepick, eldest daughter of the Bluepick Miners guild of Windswept. That group of bandits you helped us defeat be known as the Blurs. The dwarf in the gold oireann stialladh is known as Ylor Veinslicer and is as rotten as a man can be. His ancestors were exiled from Windswept generations ago, and now his clan of incestual kin prey on the travelers of this road in order to obtain supplies and slaves. Usually they wouldn’t attack a group like mine, but they must be getting desperate or foolish. It’s too bad the bastard got away. I would have liked to put a bullet or too into his ‘ead!” she said. As she finished her last statement, her voice was dripping with venom.


  “Well, I won’t keep you then, Jarla Bluepick. I am on my way back to Yucoke after spending a month in the company of the Bottom Barrels. I am glad to have been able to be of service.” he said. Now that he knew who the bandits were, he was ready to leave. He wanted to be out of the area before they had a chance to regroup and attack them again.

  Jarla looked at up at him with a disbelieving gaze. “You know the Bottom Barrels?” she asked.

  Tartum smiled, he wasn’t surprised at her doubt. “Yes. Quaray and Oldrake were particularly kind to me during my stay there.” he said, as he made his way back towards his wagon.

  Jarla looked dumbfounded as he walked away from her. From behind him, he heard her call out, “I suppose you’ll be telling me you’re friends with the Grand King next!”

  Tartum couldn’t help himself, “No, ma’am! I don’t plan to introduce myself to him until my next visit!” he said with a laugh.

  Laughter from Jarla and her men let Tartum know his jest had been well received. Calling out to Buddy, he found his pet sniffing around at the remains of the dwarves that had attacked him initially. He seemed very interested in something underneath the body.

  “What are you looking at, Bud?” Tartum asked. Buddy looked up upon hearing his name and gave him an excited bark as he began signaling there was something under the dwarf worth seeing. Walking over to the dwarf, Tartum saw his fire orb had burned away his face. Kicking the corpse over, Tartum couldn’t tell what Buddy had been trying to get at. He did see something that caught his attention however. Slung to the back of the dwarf was an exquisitely crafted warhammer. Why Buddy had been tring to get at it was beyond him until he saw him dig at a hidden pocket on the man’s back and pull out a large amount of dried meat and jerky. Laughing, Tartum reached down and took the warhammer from the dwarf’s corpse. Its weight felt good in his hands, and the craftmanship was striking. The hammer was actually simple in design, with a rectangluar stone head and a coned backend. The haft was made from a solid metal rod that had been wrapped in leather to allow for a better grip. The stone head of the weapon was covered in runic markings that meant nothing to Tartum but he knew enchanted the hammer all the same. He had no idea how to wield the weapon for combat purposes, but he remembered Oldrake telling him that dwarven weapons were becoming more and more rare now that oireann stialladh, or shredding suits, were becoming the norm. Checking the other two bodies, Tartum found a cresent bladed runic axe that was equally as covered in runes and just as valuable. Placing them both into his wagon, he gave Buddy the command to get back inside; reluctantly Buddy obeyed. Getting back into the drivers seat, Tartum got his horse moving back down the road.