The Jade Mage: The Becoming: Volume 1

by Latoria, William D.

  The staff was six feet tall and three inches in diameter, at its base. The diameter gradually increased to seven inches, towards the top, where it was capped with a mushroom-shaped design. It appeared to be a solid piece of jade, and had six, half inch-wide lines of decorative gold, running down its length. The bottom of the staff was a blunted point, which made it look more like a weapon, rather than just an aid for walking. The gold lines glittered along its base, and gave the staff a very elegant look. The gold spiralled around the mushroom-shaped top, giving the impression of a whirlpool, if you stared at it long enough. Tartum had never seen anything more breathtaking in his life.

  Isidor saw Tartum’s eyes, absorbing the staff and smiled, knowing how excited he would be once he gave it to him.

  “Yes, it’s yours Tartum. Happy belated sixteenth birthday.” Isidor held out the staff for him to take.

  Half numb with shock, Tartum took the staff from him and held it in front of him. It was HEAVY. At least a good forty pounds if it was an ounce. The weight didn’t bother Tartum. In fact, it only made the staff seem more exquisit, more substantial in his hands.

  “Thank you...thank you so much! I...I don’t know what to say. Thank you, Isidor!” Tartum stammered in his delight.

  “Heh, don’t thank me yet, pupil. Every good caster needs a good weapon. Something he can fall back on if the magic fails him, or rather, if HE fails the magic. I’ve noticed you have been failing the magic more than you’ve been succeeding with it, and I decided, now that you’re sixteen, it’s time for you to learn how to fight and defend yourself. The world can be a violent place.” Isidor took on his instructor posture now, and the change in Tartum’s demeanor let him know he was paying attention.

  “Now, as you know, jade and gold aren’t the most suitable of substances to make a weapon with. In fact they’re terrible choices. Therefore, I took the liberty of enchanting your staff with spells of fortification. Your staff is as durable as folded steel and will serve you quite well, once you’ve learned to use it. Also, seeing as the staff is enchanted, do not, I repeat, DO NOT attempt to add further enchantments to it. No material of this world can hold more than one enchantment. To try to add another would only destroy your weapon and possibly burn you out in the process.”

  Tartum nodded his understanding.

  “Now, let’s begin your new training.” With a flourish, Isidor produced his own staff. A solid piece of steel, it was shaped exactly like Tartum’s. It could easily have been its twin; however, Isidor’s staff was only dull grey metal and had no inlaid gold or fancy designs. It was in fact, quite ugly, an odd choice for someone as flamboyant as Isidor.

  None of this seemed to matter to Isidor. He went into a blur of movement, deftly maneuvering his staff in every direction at once, pausing only to strike out or change stance. Tartum couldn’t follow the movement, nor could he have duplicated any of it, if he’d wanted to. So, he stood there, transfixed by his master’s martial prowess with the staff.

  Coming to the end of his demonstration, Isidor landed in front of Tartum with his staff lightly held behind his back in one hand, the other mockingly held out towards Tartum, as Isidor bowed.

  “As you can see, Tartum, the staff can be quite lethal, if you know how to use it. In this way, it’s alot like magic. Hopefully, you’ll do better with the staff than you have with magic.” Seeing this incite Tartum’s anger, he smiled. “Let us begin.”

  CHAPTER 3

  Tartum had been practicing all day. Bottom left, bottom right, left parry, right thrust, over head block, downward lunge, center, spin, repeat. Bottom left, bottom right, left parry, right thrust, over head block, downward lunge, center, spin, repeat. Bottom left, bottom right, left parry, right thrust, over head block, downward lunge, center, spin, repeat...

  The movements were hard, and Tartum hit himself across the face and legs more than the staff hit the ground when he dropped it. At each failure, Isidor would crack the back of his legs with his staff and order him to try again. Over and over, Tartum practiced the moves. Clumsy at first, but slowly, he was starting to feel like he was grasping the new skill. His arms were burning from the unaccustomed exertion, and the weight of the staff had sapped his strength. Only his will kept him going now, even though his body begged him to stop.

  Bottom left, bottom right, left parry, right thrust, over head block, downward lunge, center, spin, repeat. Bottom left, bottom right, left parry, right thrust, over head block, downward lunge, center, spin...OOPS! His staff went flying out of his hands, and Isidor’s staff came down on the back of his legs, driving him to the ground.

  “AGAIN! And this time less failure!” Isidor yelled at him, clearly irritated. Isidor hated being hard on his young friend but took pride in the fact that he hadn’t given up. This new found maturity he had gained from his father’s death was impressing Isidor profoundly. Tartum was finally starting to act like an adult, instead of a spoiled child. Isidor felt truly proud of him, but being proud didn’t mean he would go easy on him. The skills he was learning now would serve him for the rest of his life. In fact, there was the distinct possiblilty that the skills he was learning now would prolong his life! This was no time to go easy on him. Life and death training required great rewards and greater punishment.

  It seemed Tartum was finally understanding that. Each failure and punishment drove him to try harder, rather than give up or lay down his staff and quit. Bottom left, bottom right, left parry, right thrust, over head block, downward lunge, center, spin, repeat. Bottom left, bottom right, left parry, right thrust, over head block, downward lunge, center, spin, repeat. Bottom left, bottom right, left parry, right thrust, over head block, downward lunge, center, spin, repeat. “He’s getting it!” Isidor thought, “Not even a full day, and he’s getting it!”

  “FASTER!” he bellowed, “Go FASTER, you worm!”

  Tartum complied, moving his staff faster than before, creating a slight green blur around him. Bottom left, bottom right, left parry, right thrust, over head block, downward lunge, center, spin, repeat. Bottom left, bottom right, left parry, right thrust, over head block, downward lunge...OOF! The butt of his staff went deep into his stomach, and he dropped it as the wind was knocked out of him. Struggling on the ground, trying to breathe, waiting for the punishment that was sure to come for such failure, he was shocked when a waterskin bounced off his head.

  “Well done Tartum, when you can breathe again, join me in the kitchen. It’s time to eat.” Isidor said, not trying to disguse the approval in his voice.

  ...

  For five months, Tartum had been practicing the same movements. The same basic exercise, with the staff that was now more apart of him than his eyes. He knew every inch of his staff, every crevice. He knew exactly where the center of balance was, how to hold it for the maximum effect, whether he was lunging, parrying, or swinging. His footwork blended perfectly with his handiwork, and the blur of green around him was like a protective shell. Tartum loved going through his exercises, even after months of doing little else. Isidor hadn’t watched him in weeks, and Tartum didn’t mind the isolation. The new routine suited him fine, and now that he had sold the farm, he had no need to rush. His life was devoted to the perfection of his staff, and casting skills.

  In the middle of his contemplation, Isidor entered the room. He was dressed in nothing but his pants and carried his staff with him. Tartum saw him but continued on with his exercise, not knowing Isidor’s purpose in coming.

  “That’s enough practice, Tartum. You’ve gotten the remedial stuff down. Are you ready for some real lessons in combat?” Isidor asked. His voice was devoid of all emotion. His demeanor unsettled Tartum.

  Stopping as he was instructed, Tartum looked at Isidor, wondering what he meant. Isidor said nothing. He calmly strolled up to Tartum, not making eye contact, a wide grin on his face. Without warning, Isidor struck out at Tartum, aiming for his right knee. His body reacted, before Tartum registered what was happening, knocking away Isidor’s blo
w.

  “BOTTOM LEFT!” Isidor screamed at Tartum, as he lashed out at Tartum’s left knee. Tartum parried this blow as well. He wasn’t even thinking about it, his body was reacting on its own.

  “BOTTOM RIGHT!” Isidor screamed at him again, swinging his staff at the right side of Tartum’s legs. Seeing where this was going, Tartum’s staff was already at his right and easily deflected the blow.

  “LEFT PARRY!” Isidor screamed.

  “RIGHT THRUST!” Tartum screamed back and did just that. Isidor’s next move wasn’t something Tartum expected. Deftly moving to his left, Isidor dodged the blow, grabbed Tartum’s staff, and, using his own momentum against him, threw Tartum forward, taking his staff from him as he fell to the ground, rolling head over heels.

  “Good! You’ve got the basics down to instinctual response. Now you just have to learn to not tell your opponent what your next move will be. That was stupid.” Isidor said with contempt. As Tartum picked himself up, Isidor tossed his staff to him. He caught it and glared angrily at his mentor.

  “Again.” Isidor said. Obediently, Tartum prepared himself for another lesson.

  ...

  “He’s moving too fast!” Tartum thought, fighting hard to keep his fear in check. Isidor’s movement had gone into a blur again, and Tartum tried furiously to match his mentor’s speed and precision. Too late, he realized his master’s thrust was a feign, and he felt the pain that came with such a mistake, exploding in his gut and shoulder as his master’s one-two move knocked Tartum to the ground.

  “Again you fall for that. How many more times must you fail before you learn? An animal would have figured it out by now!” Isidor admonished, “Are you trying to disappoint me?”

  When he could talk again, Tartum responded, “No...master...It’s just...I can’t follow your movements...how...how are you moving so fast?”

  “I told you, don’t pay attention to the movements of my staff. That’s impossible. You need to pay attention to your opponent’s eyes, shoulders, and hips. Those will be the factors that will give you any hint of what my move will be.” Isidor said. He had told him this many times over the past two years. Tartum’s pride,or perhaps it was his fear, wouldn’t allow him to believe it.

  “Get up, let’s do it again.” Isidor said.

  Rubbing his shoulder, Tartum stood up to square off against his master. “This time it’ll be different. This time I will beat him. I refuse to lose!”, Tartum told himself, trying to boost his confidence.

  Not waiting for him to attack, Tartum threw himself at his mentor. They moved fast. Between them, they wove a lethal dance of martial death, each trying to knock out, or cripple, the other. This was not a forgiving sparring session. The loser would know he lost, immediately after he fell... or immediately after he woke up. They created two separate blurs. One of jade green, the other a dull grey. The clacking created by their multiple parries and counters sounded like hail on platemail.

  As impressive as this all was, Tartum wasn’t going to be happy, until he scored a winning blow against his master. A year ago, Isidor had given him an ultimatum after a particularly painful loss, “Tell you what kid.” he had said as he looked down at Tartum, who was holding his face when Isidor’s staff had just hit, “Since you seem to need some sort of incentive to actually give me a challenge, I offer you this. If you can strike me down, if you can land one telling blow against me, cause me to yield even once, we will resume your training in magic. Until you finally accomplish this, however, I will not teach you anything. Stand up, let’s see if that’s enough to finally make you good at this.”

  The ultimatum, and victory against his master, was all Tartum had thought about since. Trying harder and harder, he had come close, so very close, to winning. To landing the blow that would win Tartum, not only the victory he so desperately wanted, but let him resume his training in magic. A year had passed since he last practiced magic with his master, and he was worried he might have forgotten how.

  He still studied his magic book on his own and had unraveled the secret of one more page. He had learned the secret to a petrification spell, that would seize his target’s muscles, and cause them to lock up for a few minutes. They couldn’t move an inch, but they were still very aware of what was happening around them. Tartum had tried it out a couple times on a few stray dogs and once, on a person that was walking by the wagon. They had all frozen in place, with looks of terror in their eyes. In his excitement after seeing the spell work, Tartum would run off, leaving them to wait for the spell to wear off. He had tried to cast it on his master, during their sparring sessions, in an attempt, not only to win, but to impress him. The results were far from positive. His master, seeing Tartum attempting to cast a spell, threw his staff like a spear and caught Tartum square in the chest, knocking him to the ground. The pain had been unbelievable, and Tartum could still remember how acute it was to this day. Later, Tartum admitted to himself that trying to cast a spell in the middle of martial combat was a foolish thing to do, but he took comfort in the fact that he had learned to never try it again.

  Now, as before, he was being pushed back. His master’s skill and agility was still far to much for him to compete with. Just as Tartum was trying to think of a way to turn the fight around, he missed another feign and heard, more than felt, Isidor’s staff crack off the side of his skull. His world burst into stars, and then there was only blackness.

  Waking up in a mess of pillows, Tartum’s head was killing him.

  “ARGH!” he said, in response to the pain radiating in his head. “I lost again huh?” he asked, knowing his master would be sitting nearby, waiting for him to regain consciousness.

  “Yup, drink the medicine in the mug next to you. It’ll help with the pain and the swelling.” Isidor said, from somewhere close by.

  Knowing it would hurt too much to open his eyes, Tartum gingerly felt around for the mug. Finding it, he drank down the liquid. It was bitter and left a chalky aftertaste in his mouth, but the pain in his head started to subside immediately. Slowly, Tartum opened his eyes. The world started spinning, and his stomach lurched, threatening to purge itself. Shutting his eyes, Tartum laid still and waited for the concoction to do it’s job, and for the pain in his head to go away.

  “Still with me?” Isidor asked

  “Yes, Isidor. Did you have to hit me so damn hard? I hate it when it feels like my head is going to explode.” he said.

  “Well, did you have to fail to see the same move I’ve used to beat you countless times coming at your head again? Don’t blame me for your pain, I’ve given you the tools needed to succeed, you are the one that has to figure out how to use them correctly.” Isidor scolded. Then seeing the pained look on Tartum’s face, Isidor softened his tone. “Although, maybe you’re right, and I should have held back a bit. Perhaps I should start using a pillow from now on so you don’t get as hurt when I beat you.”

  “Very funny, Master. Will you be adding comedy to your magic shows now?” Tartum said sarcastically, playing along with the banter.

  Tartum couldn’t see him, but he knew Isidor was smiling. “No, but I’m thinking about adding a pinata to the act. You’d be perfect for the part! HA! Come on now. Try to sit up.” Isidor went over and carefully helped Tartum get into a sitting position.

  With the pain mostly gone, and the world not spinning around him anymore, Tartum opened his eyes. It was early afternoon, so he hadn’t been out too long. Good, he was getting better at taking a hit at least. Usually a blow like that would have knocked him out for the better part of the day. As it was, he was probably only out for an hour or two.

  “You going to be ok if I leave you alone for a while? I have to go and put on my show for the week. Someone here has to earn a living.” Isidor said in mock anger.

  Tartum knew he was kidding, but the words struck a nerve. “Hey now, I gave you a large portion of the money from the sale of my old home. I would have given all of it to you but you were the one saying you didn’t want me b
orrowing money from you! Losing your memory in your old age, Master?” Tartum chided.

  Giving Tartum’s head a shove that resulted in a groan of discomfort, Isidor laughed. “That you did my friend, that you did. Mind the old man joke though. Remember, it was this old man that just put you on your ass, again! Next time maybe I’ll forget to hold back. You never know with us old guys and our memories.” Isidor said with a laugh. With his final comment, and seeing that Tartum was too dizzy to respond, Isidor left, leaving Tartum to his own devices for the rest of the day.

  CHAPTER 4

  The pain was gone and the dizzness could be ignored. Tartum sat with his spell book in his lap. His staff was against the wall behind him, within easy reach if for some reason he decided to try his hand at walking. Concentrating on a new page that made no sense to him, Tartum let the magic flow through him. As it almost always was, the book yielded no new secrets. No new magic was to be his today, Tartum knew. Frustrated, disappointed, and in pain, Tartum leaned back against the wall. Bumping into his staff, it fell over him and onto his spell book. Just as his staff hit the open book, there was a flash of blue light that dazed Tartum’s already reeling mind. When he could focus again, Tartum looked down to see what had happened. What he saw shocked him, as much as it delighted him. The page he had just been trying to unlock, that only moments ago was nothing more than gibberish and scribbles, made perfect sense! Somehow, when the staff touched the page, it unlocked another spell! Frantically, Tartum saw this as an oppurtunity and flipped to the next page. As he suspected, it was unintelligible, and he touched his staff to the page. Nothing happened. No blue flash, no new spell. After trying multiple pages and even placeing the staff on top of the binding of the book, he gave up. Apparently, the staff was only good for unlocking a single page. Deflated but not deterred, Tartum opened his book to his newest unlocked secret.