The Jade Mage: The Becoming: Volume 2

by William D. Latoria

  When he awoke, the sun had barely risen. Vaund was shaking him and was excited about something. Groggily, Tartum pulled the covers over his head.

  “What is it, Vaund, let me rest!” Tartum said.

  Vaund would not be detered, Tartum couldn’t help but be impressed with the strength still left in his aged body. “Get up, you lazy ass! I did most of the packing yesterday! The sun is up and so am I. I don’t know how you can rest when we’re this close to our goal!” he said.

  Sighing loudly, Tartum threw off his covers and sat up. Shaking the last tendrils of sleep from his mind, Tartum focused on what Vaund had said. He was as excited as his friend was, but for completely different reasons. Where Vaund craved immortality, Tartum simply craved the power.

  “I’ve made your breakfast and already brought Buddy to Dannurn’s. He’ll watch him until you get back. Hurry and eat, I want to be off soon!” Vaund called to him as he made his way to the kitchen. Tartum was pleased his friend was so enthusiastic about the crafting of his ring, he had given up trying to understand why, however. He couldn’t fathom how a man could be so thrilled about being bound to something that would make him a slave to another man’s will. The very idea brought back memories of being inside the Null Box, when he had first joined the thieves guild. The thought made him shudder.

  Finishing his breakfast, Tartum put on his clothes and gathered up his pouches that contained the components. As he fastened them to his belt, it occured to him it would be the last time he would ever need to do such a thing. His pace quicked, as the thought bolstered his own excitement about the day’s task. As he made his way to the driver’s seat of his wagon, he was assaulted by the impatient Vaund.

  “Finally! What took you so long!? I’m the old man here, and I move faster than you! I checked over everything and we’re all set so let’s get a move on! You hear me!?” Vaund’s weathered voice called from inside. Tartum’s irritation began to grow. Instead of voicing it, however, Tartum whipped the horse hard, causing the wagon to lurch forward jostleing around everything inside. Vaund’s curse of surprise was more than enough to bring a smile to his face.

  “Very funny, Tartum! Do that again, and I’ll start dumping spell components out the back!” Vaund threatened jokingly.

  Laughing, Tartum guided the wagon to the east where the clearing he killed Tremendous in was located. It had taken him almost a day to walk back to town from there. With the horse pulling the wagon, it only took a matter of hours. The sun was barely half way to the middle of the sky when they arrived in the field. Looking around at the clearing, Tartum saw it was perfectly suited for the spell he needed to cast. The ground was flat, with the only blemish being the charred spot where he had burned Tremendous’ remains. The clearing was surrounded by a dense wall of trees that served to protect him from prying eyes, as well as give him the seclusion he required to ensure nothing would disturb him during a vital moment of his spell. Halting the wagon just inside the clearing, Tartum dismounted and helped Vaund down.

  “So this is the place where it’s going to happen?” Vaund asked. His voice had taken on a solemn tone, and Tartum knew the reality of what was going to happen to him was beginning to sink in. For a moment, Tartum became worried that he was going to change his mind about everything. If that happened, Tartum had already decided he would force his friend. Too much time had passed, and now that they were here, Tartum wasn’t about to allow him to change his mind. He had already given him that option, and he had declined it vehemently. Tartum’s empathy was now gone.

  Vaund looked up at him with eyes too young to be in such a body. Tartum could see in that look that Vaund was set in his decision. “How do we begin?” he asked as he set his jaw, determined.

  Unpacking the scroll, Tartum set it out before him. The enchantment was a nine part spell that would require time, power, and precision, the likes of which Tartum had never attempted before. The first step was to set the containers of blood and saliva together and speak the first verse of the spell. According to the description, this would magically combine the two fluids into one which they would use to draw the glyphs required for the enchantment. Tartum remembered doing the same when he cast his light enchantment spell back in Zerous.

  Placing the three waterskins full of Tremendous’s blood and the jar full of dragon saliva together, Tartum thrust his staff into the ground and opened himself to the magic. He remembered that Isidor had once told him the more magic he flowed into the enchantment the more powerful it would be. He remembered how quickly the coin had faded while his staff still blazed with light whenever he gave the command. Bracing himself, Tartum opened himself as fully to the magic as he possibly could, relishing in the sweet pain that came with it. Focusing his will, he refused to allow his mind to wander from his task. With another glance at his scroll to ensure he had the words correct, he channeled the torrent of magic flowing inside him into the fluids before him.

  “Energiji magika! Aghti dawn il-fluwidi sabiex I jista ‘jorbot dan jesplici-taw fliliimkien!” he commanded. His voice was thick with power, and his confidence was bolstered by the sound. In response, the waterskins and jar became hazey, as if the materials that kept them bound were phasing out of existence. The pull on his magic was extrodinary! Tartum could physically feel it and noticed he had to restrain his body from leaning forward. Sweat beaded on his forhead as the rush of magic he sent into his spell took its toll. With a flash of light, the pull on his magic suddenly stopped as the fluid became one. Two waterskins that pulsed with green light now lay in the grass where the combination took place. Reaching down, Tartum picked up one of the waterskins. By the feel he could tell they were still made of animal hide, but now they felt like so much more. Warm to the touch, they felt powerful in his hands, he could almost feel them vibrating with the energy they held within.

  Nodding to Vaund, they unloaded the chests that held the components to the spell and began arranging them on the ground according to the instructions on the scroll. The ring had to be in the exact center of the enchantment, with precisely written glyphs surrounding it. The spell components were arranged around the ring in a spiral that was in turn to be encompassed with more glyphs all of which were to be written using the blood and saliva mixture he had just created. The fluid flowed slowly from the skins thick and red almost like a bloody molasses. It burned through the grass and into the ground as he used the spout to draw the thick red glyphs around the components. Vaund took the queue and using the other skin he began to draw glyphs connecting the components in Tartum’s wake.It was a very slow process that took them most of the day to meticulously arrange the spell components Vaund had collected and then draw the glyphs the scroll described. At the end of the spiral of components, a large ring of glyphs needed to be drawn. This would be the circle that Vaund would stand in when the enchantment was ready to be cast. As they toiled over this task, very little was said between the men. So engrossed in their work, there was little room for idle chat. Tartum was understandably surprised when Vaund posed a question, hours into their work.

  “Do you think it’s going to hurt when you bind my soul to the ring?” he asked. The tone of his voice as he asked the question wasn’t one of fear, but of pure curiosity. Tartum couldn’t help but feel respect for the young man. Even facing this pseudo death, he was more inquisitive than fearful. Tartum hoped that if he ever had a family that he would be blessed with a son like Vaund.

  “I honestly don’t know, my friend. I haven’t thought about it.” he replied. He hadn’t meant to sound so cold hearted in his reply but didn’t want to allow himself to become too distracted from his work. The glyphs were complicated, and if he made even the slightest mistake in drawing one the entire spell could end in disaster. The memory of Hilary’s ruined corpse flashed into his mind, and angrily, Tartum forced himself to focus on his task.

  “I don’t think it will.” Vaund said, more to himself than in response to Tartum’s opinion. “Magic is kinder than that.”

 
Tartum said nothing; he barely heard Vaund’s reply through his focus. After both men had checked their work over three times, they were confident they were ready for the next step of the spell. Tartum motioned for Vaund to take his place inside the circle of glyphs they had drawn for him, and he took his position at the southern most point of the enchantment. Tartum saw that Vaund looked nervous now as he took his position. Tartum did not allow himself to pity his friend. He had made his decision; his job was to honor it.

  Raising his hands over his head, Tartum pulled in as much magic as he could tolerate as he spoke the next verse of the spell, “Issa I-sejha fuq il-kompetenzi ghall-infuzjoni ta marki tieghui li taghti jesplicitaw tieghi!”

  As he spoke the words, the pull on the magic inside him threatened to overwhelm him. He felt like he was chained to a log that had been thrust under a violent waterfall of razorblades that were quickly slicing him to ribbons. Calling upon his will, Tartum focused the flow of energy until the pain became manageable. Seconds felt like hours, as he fought for control against the raging power within him. Moment by moment, Tartum slowly began to regain control over the power coursing through him and although exhausted, he completed the verse and looked in awe at the glyphs that now pulsed with power much like the waterskins did. Each glyph was now glowing with a firey red aura that sent thin lines of light up towards the sky as the sun began setting over the horizon of the trees surrounding him. Tartum saw Vaund standing in his circle surrounded by the glowing runes, staring at them with awe. Tartum smiled when he saw how much his friend was enjoying this. He, however, was not; there were still seven more verses to speak, and he was exhausted after only two. Doubt’s icey fingers began to wrap around his heart, making him second guess his ability to cast this enchantment. The guiding voice in his head leapt to the surface, ordering Tartum to stop doubting himself and finish the spell! Tartum could feel the voice adding to his own strength and will, and suddenly Tartum felt angry…angry at himself for taking so long to do this, angry for allowing himself to begin succumbing to doubt this early into the spell. Mainly he was angry at the fact that the spell had dared to best him and had almost succeeded. Furious, Tartum bellowed the next verse of the spell.

  “Vaporizzazzjoni dawn il-komponenti so jista ‘jorbot fuqhom li-jikkawza tieghi!” he commanded in a tone that dared the magic to try and test his resolve once again. Tartum believed the magic must have heard the taunt in his voice, for it began pulling at him once again with a vengeance born of such a slight. Tartum’s pride and fury would not be bested, however, and he fought back, forcing the magic to flow through him and into his enchantment. He watched with unbridled pride as the spell components inside the glowing glyphs burst into vapor, exactly as the components had done when he enchanted his staff and the coin before it. Thrusting as much magic as he could into the spell, Tartum only stopped when he felt feedback on the flow. He smiled confidently as he began speaking the fourth verse of the spell.

  “Poteri! Accetta joffru tieghi ta ‘ruh biex izidu l-intelligenza ghall-ring tieghi!” he yelled. As he finished speaking the words the glyphs surrounding Vaund leapt from the ground and began spinning around him. Vaund watched in fear and excitement as the glyphs spun faster and faster around him. The glyphs became a blur of red light that gave off the impression that Vaund was being encased by their power. At the last moment, Vaund looked up to Tartum with tears in his eyes.

  “Thank you my fri…” was all he was able to get out before a blinding red flash forced Tartum to shut his eyes. He was too focused on his spell to be disturbed by the unexpected light, Tartum kept his hold on the magic that battled to overwhelm and destroy him. As focused as he was, he still felt a sharp pain in his heart as his friend’s final words were cut short. When he could see again, there was a white light floating where Vaund had been. His clothes now lay in a pile below the light, the glyphs that had been orbiting him were no where to be found. Forcing himself to finish the spell, Tartum moved on to the next verse.

  “Magic-energija! Tiftah il-cirku li jesplicitaw tieghi! Lesti li ghal offerti tieghi!” he spoke with only slightly less resolve. Even with his anger, the spell was becoming too much strain on his body. His very soul began to feel chaffed and raw from the constant onslaught of the magic flowing through him. He knew he had to finish soon or risk dying or worse, burn out.

  The glyphs in the center of his enchantment that surrounded his ring jumped from the ground and infused themselves into the ring. The result of which made the ring hover a few feet off the ground and begin giving off a soft yellowish light that reminded Tartum of dawn. Reaching down deep inside of himself, he called upon his reserves of strength as he forced the next verse from his mouth.

  “Marki! Tahlita fil-komponenti sabiex ikunu inbue tieghi l-cirku!” he said. The white light that now represented all that remained of Vaund was sucked into the ring, as the remaining glyphs melted into the vaporized components. Tartum, through sheer will alone, forced the magic to continue flowing through him and into his enchantment as he neared the final verse.

  “Ruh! Tacetta l-components Nixtieq mieghek! Accetta I-varjeta tal-poter!” he practically whispered. The flow of the magic coursing through him amplified once again as the vaporized spell components merged within the ring exactly as Vaund’s light had. The vapors moved as one, and the merging only took seconds, but the toll it took on Tartum’s stamina was almost too much for him to bear. Dropping to his knees, Tartum dug deep looking for any shed of strength he had left in order to speak the final words of his spell. Sweat poured in rivers from every pore in his body, his head ached, and his body was nothing more than a shell of pain and misery. He was completely exhausted but refused to surrender, he would not give up. The guiding voice in his mind was weak, but it brought a memory of his time with the dwarves to him. More specifically, of the time he first spoke the oath of the Bottombarrel Clan. He remembered the strength he had felt when he had spoken the words for the first time and now the memory alone was enough to get him back onto his feet.

  “QAWWA MAGIKA TA ‘I-ALLAT FINITURE TIRGHI JESPLICITAW U JLESTU I-CIRKU TA’ REGENTS I KMAND INTI!!!” Tartum screamed as loud and as hard as he could. The last of his strength went into the words, and he fell hard to his knees once again after saying them. He watched as the ring spun on its axis until it was nothing more than a blur as it soaked up more and more magic from him. With a burst of light that knocked him onto his back, the spell was completed, and Tartum lay in the dirt, panting and hoping that he hadn’t burned himself out.

  As he lay there in pain, he knew he had done it. He knew that all he had to do was crawl a few feet from where he was now and the ring would be his. His body was numb with the pain and exhertion the spell had put on him. Even the thought of moving made him feel nauseous, so instead he lay there and waited to recover. Basking in his triumph, Tartum didn’t even notice the two men that walked into the clearing stopping in front of his ring.

  “Well done, Jade Mage! Well done indeed! I must admit, few a moment there I didn’t think you were going to be able to finish the spell…” an unfamiliar voice said. Nearby someone began chuckling, and Tartum thought the sound was familiar. The guiding voice inside his head warned him of extreme danger, but Tartum could do nothing but lay there willing his body to recover faster.

  “Who…who’s there?” Tartum asked weakly. Even the act of talking threatened to make him pass out. Panic threatened to take hold of him.

  “You know who I am, Tartum Fuin, if only by my reputation.” The unfamiliar voice said. “In truth, I’ve been your guardian angel through much of your journey since you moved to Yucoke.”

  Tartum was completely at a loss. “I…don’t know…what…you’re talking about.” he said. His anger was beginning to return. He knew the man talking to him was an enemy, but he detested being toyed with.

  “Come now, Tartum, Oldrake and his wagon? Keves, with the map to the troll lair? Runt, and the map that led you to the dragon’s lair? The two lightning bolts that s
aved you from the dragon’s wrath even after you sacrificed poor, poor Bowden? You didn’t really think that was all coincidence, did you?” the voice said again. This time whoever was with him laughed hard, until the sound of a hand slapping someone in the face cut it off sharply.

  “That…was Isidor.” Tartum said, even though now he knew it to be untrue.

  “Isidor? Ahh, yes, your first mentor. The traveling idiot. I was told that’s what you thought. That’s why I signed the letter Runt brought you saying as much. Sorry for the deception, but it seemed like the best way to get you to go along without question.” the voice said to him disdainfully.

  “No…that can’t be true…Oldrake…Quaray… they wouldn’t betray me!” Tartum said. Some of his strength returned as his outrage grew. He refused to believe the friends he made in Windswept would have set him up like this. The man was a liar! He had to be!

  “Those dwarven fools? Well, you can rest easy, Tartum. They believe we are old friends, and that they were just returning a favor they owed me for some time. Those hole dwellers are a stubborn lot, but if you get one of them to owe you a favor, they’ll cut off their own beards to settle it. Something to do with honor or some rubbish. It all seems rather foolish to me, but there you have it.” he said. He seemed to be getting bored with the conversation.

  Rolling over to his belly, Tartum forced his body to move. Turning around, he looked at the man that had been speaking to him. He was a frail man but had the smooth skin and regal features of a man used to a luxurious life that immediately marked him as some sort of royalty. He wore bright white robes that were heavily decorated with gold thread. He bore a staff made of pure ivory that had animals of every kind masterfully etched into its surface with the top showing the head of a man looking up towards the sky as if pondering the meaning of existence. His face was sallow and cratered with age with his fingers stained black by decades of writing with ink. He looked down at Tartum as if he were nothing more than an insect that he was about to have squished for daring to be in his presence. The moment he saw him, Tartum hated the man, but he had no idea who he was or how he knew so much about him.