The Jade Mage: The Becoming: Volume 1

by Latoria, William D.

  Something snapped in Tartum, he couldn’t cure the evil in the world...but this animal’s pain, that, he somehow knew he could fix! Without thinking, Tartum placed his hands on the dog’s mutilated body and demanded the magic to flow into it. Uninhibited by the fear of burn out or death, Tartum felt the magic flow through him and into the dog, felt it fill up every speck of its being. It was going to work! A terrible sweet pain filled him. It hurt so much, and yet it was exquisit bliss! He pulled more and more magic inside of him, knowing it was damning him to death but not caring. It was too much! The magic raged inside him, and he knew he was losing control.

  The feeling was different from the burnout he felt when he bound the scroll to his spell book. The feeling quickly became unpleasant. Now it was white, hot, shooting pain, lancing through every nerve in his body. He tried to cut off his connection to the source, but there was too much magic inside him with nowhere to go. He knew he was doomed and was about to give up, when he saw the dog, tail still wagging, waiting for his faith in man to be rewarded.

  Anger at his momentary weakness hit him, and Tartum used it to focus and regain control over the choas raging through him. Using a will he didn’t know he possessed, he focused this raw energy, demanding it did as he bade. Not knowing any healing spells or mending gestures, Tartum focused on one thought...“HEAL!” He let the magic flow through him and into the animal’s body. Suddenly, the animal’s pain was his own, and with the magic amplifying everything, it was too much. Screaming in pain, Tartum almost broke away, when again, he saw the wagging tail, only he thought it was wagging slightly stronger than before. Maybe it was the magic enhancing things, maybe he was losing his mind, it didn’t matter. This dog was going to live, no matter the cost!

  Concentrating on the flow of magic inside him, Tartum focused on the thought again.

  “HEAL!”

  He felt the magic run out of him and into the animal. “HEAL!” He focused harder, trying to not lose consciousness, knowing, somehow, that he wasn’t finished yet. “HEAL!” It wasn’t a request. To much about this world was wrong, and if it was the last thing he did, he would correct this wrong! He would remove this dog’s pain and correct what the gutter gang had done. Damn the magic for resisting him, damn it for being difficult, damn its rules and structure. It was going to obey his command, or Tartum resolved to tear the whole city apart with the magic he would release in failure. It was all or nothing, and Tartum didn’t plan to fail. He wasn’t asking the magic for its help, he was ORDERING it to do his bidding. Tartum DEMANDED the magic heal this animal, and beyond all reason, against everything he had been taught about how magic was supposed to work...it obeyed! Through what he felt, more than what he saw, he knew the dog’s body was getting stronger.

  “HEAL! HEAL, HEAL, HEAL...HEAL!!”

  The fact it was working filled Tartum with the strength he needed to hold on. The thrill of being in control of such a force, the knowledge that it could be done, and that he was doing it, gave him the will he needed to finish this impossible task. Demanding that the magic not fail him, not fail this animal,, Tartum demanded, one last time from the magic...“HEAL!”

  An incredible surge of power passed through him and into the animal. The sensation of razors made of ice, ran over his skin, causing him a pain so acute that when he screamed no noise left his mouth. It was too much, the magic had burned him up, he was past endurance, past emotion, he had nothing left to hold on to the source, and he released his connection.

  “Heal him Gods damn you...heal him!” Tartum whispered, as the last of his energy slipped away. As his grip on consciousness was ripped from him, he barely registered the fact that he was falling.

  The last thing he saw was a standing dog’s back end...tail wagging.

  ...

  Tartum woke up in a room. Not a big room, but it was large enough so that he didn’t feel cramped. The bed he was lying in had a soft mattress, goose down, Tartum guessed. A small lantern glowed in each of the four corners, lighting the room in a bright but comfortable light. The lanterns sat on wooden pillars that had been shaped to look like candles. The window overlooked the road outside, and there was a desk against the wall across from the bed, with a basin and a pitcher of water on it. Next to the bed, on the nightstand, was a plate of bread with some fruit and cheese, as well as a mug of what Tartum assumed was ale.

  “I’m back at the Inn!?” Tartum thought, “This isn’t my room, this is much poorer than what Isidor and I rented.” Frantically, Tartum checked for his pack, he found it almost immediately on the floor at the foot of the bed. Throwing himself onto the floor, he ripped open the draw strings and looked inside. Sighing with relief, he lay back against the bed. His spellbook and magic components were all still inside and untampered with, as far as he could tell. Looking up, Tartum saw his staff. Curled up next to it,fast asleep, was a large dog. It was a hearty looking dog, about eighty pounds with an orange and brown hue to his long, thick hair. It had a gentle face and a long bushy tail. The tail was wagging, which lead Tartum to believe there was something familiar about this dog...

  “THE ALLEY!” Tartum swore outloud. Memory came back flooding to him. He remembered it all, the pain, the anger, the rage, the magic, the exhilaration, and the immortal feeling it gave him. He found it interesting that he still felt no remorse for killing the teenagers, but seeing the dog, happily dreaming, tail wagging, almost as if it was smiling, let him know that he had made the right decision. He walked over to the dog and sat down next to him, looking over it’s body. There was no sign that the dog had ever recieved any kind of injury at all. He couldn’t believe that he had been able to bring the dog back from the brink of death and heal him so completely, that there was not so much as a scar to indicate anything wrong had ever happened to this animal. Smiling, Tartum allowed himself to take pride in what he had accomplished. It was the first time in his life he had ever saved a life, and he found he liked doing it. Reaching towards the sleeping animal, Tartum patted him affectionately. The dog woke at his touch, and when he saw Tartum, his tail wagging increased a hundred fold. He didn’t bark or whine, he simply wagged his tail so hard his whole body shook and tried to sit directly in Tartum’s lap. Laughing, Tartum allowed the dog his leisure, and they played for a while. Beast and master, bonding completely.

  It was only after he was done bonding with the dog, and sharing the food in the room with him, that the magnitude of what he’d done struck him. Without speaking any words of power, using spell components, or knowing what the hells he was doing, Tartum had used raw magical energy to save the dog’s life and perfectly heal it’s body. On a hunch, Tartum opened his pack and retrieved his spell book. Flipping through the pages, he came to a new page that he hadn’t unlocked yet. As he expected, the page now made perfect sense to him. The page now described how to cast a spell that could be used to heal animals and other less complicated life.

  This was the second time his book had updated itself to keep up with the magic he was learning outside of its pages. Was the book alive? Did it always know what he was doing with magic? How did it know what he was doing, and if the book already had the secrets inside, why did it wait until he discovered himself to reveal them? It was frustrating, and he felt like the book was toying with him. The thought made him want to shake the book or tear it apart. He dismissed the idea as quickly as he thought of it. His spellbook was as big a part of his life as his staff was, and the idea of being without either of them seemed as easy as removing one of his arms.

  “Play games with me, will you? Damned book!” Tartum said to the book, as he held it in front of him.

  “That’s correct, young man, that book not only teaches you new spells, but will record the spells you uncover along your life’s travels. It’s a testament to your natural ability that you could even open it!”

  Startled by the sudden voice and the jovial way it sounded, Tartum jumped up and reached for his staff. With his staff in hand, Tartum whirled around to face the source of the
words. A middle aged man of around forty years of age had appeared in the room, he was thinly built but well muscled. His head and face were clean shaven, and he had a look of amusement in his eyes. His hands were too smooth for his age, and he rubbed them together constantly. The man was trying to come off as friendly, but Tartum saw the way he kept his weight balanced and shifted to the balls of his feet. He was ready, he wasn’t sure if Tartum was friend or foe. He was, without a doubt, stealthy, for he snuck into the small room and spoke before Tartum, or his dog, knew he was there! He was dressed in plain brown pants that looked like he could have tailored them himself. He wore a buttoned down brown vest to match. His chest was bare underneath and showed some strange tattoos that seemed to move when you looked at them for too long.

  “Easy now, kid, easy. If I wanted to harm you, I could have done it in the seclusion of the alleyway I found you in, not in the comfort of my lodgings here.” The stranger said.

  Odd as it was, Tartum was calmed by this logic, and knowing that if the man had found him out there, he probably saw the bodies of the kids. He didn’t know why the man had helped him or how he had gotten him and the dog onto his room, but he felt that since he had gone to all the trouble, he could give him the benefit of the doubt. Still, something about the man was off, and he couldn’t help but feel uneasy in his presence. Instinctually, Tartum opened himself to the magic, the raw power that flowed into him gave him the confidence he needed to feel like he could handle whatever the man was about to propose to him. The dog seemed to pick up on his discomfort and placed itself between Tartum and the stranger. Tartum was grateful for the way the dog was now watching the man, as if he was ready to pounce.

  The man sighed and shook his head, “Look, I understand why you’re wary of me. I don’t care about the kids in the alley, I don’t care about the dog that seems to be ready to rip my throat out, I don’t even care that you’ve opened yourself to the magic.” The stranger smiled when saw Tartum’s look of shock, “Oh yes, that’s right, I’m a caster too!”

  Angry at himself for being startled, Tartum cursed himself for being a fool. “Ok, so you found me surrounded by dead teenagers and this dog. You brought me up here, let me and my dog sleep here, feed us and took care of everything...because you’re a good person? What is it you want from me, sir?” Tartum said.

  The stranger’s eys almost popped out of his head, as now it was his turn to be caught by surprise, “SIR!?! I’ve been called many, many things in my days...but I don’t believe I’ve ever been called SIR!” The stanger laughed heartily at his joke, serving only to make Tartum more uneasy. The dog let out a growl.

  Seeing Tartum and the dog tense, the man abruptly stopped laughing and cleared his throat. “My Name is Rashlarr, I’m a caster like you, I heard you...well that’s not exactly true...I felt you using a large amount of magic and thought it was odd for such a large amount to be used in such a despicable alley. Imagine my surprise, when I saw five dead children and a passed out young man, being watched over by this beast here.” Motioning at the dog, Rashlarr attempted to pat the animal on the head and just missed getting his fingers biten off. “Whoa!” The stranger said, jumping back and shaking his hand, “Loyal to a fault! He’ll make a fine guard dog, if you’ve a mind to keep him.”

  Tartum patted the dog, “He doesn’t trust you. How did you get him to trust you in the alley?”

  “I really don’t know, after I picked you up, he followed me. He never took his eyes off you. The innkeeper threw a fit about having a dog in his inn, but a few extra gold, and he changed his tune. You really don’t care about any of this though, do you? Go ahead, and ask me.” Rashlarr said with a smile.

  “Why did you help me?” Tartum asked.

  With a laugh that ended with Rashlarr almost bouncing with glee, he replied, “Excellent! Excellent! I am going to offer you the greatest oppurtunity of your life, my boy! One that if you refuse...well you wont refuse, you’re a smart man, and once you have heard what I’m offering, you’ll jump at the oppurtunity.” Rashlarr gushed.

  “I felt the awesome, raw talent of your magical ability in the alley. Granted, it was only a fleeting glimpse, and an incredibly foolish thing for you to do for a dog, it was none-the-less remarkable. I want to take you on as a pupil and teach you how to harness that power. Teach you how to be a truly powerful caster!” Rashlarr said.

  Tartum thought this over for a second. He could tell Rashlarr was serious, but he could also tell he was hiding something, hiding a lot of something judging by his demeanor. “So you want to train some killer you found, half dead in an alley, how to become a better killer...and you want to do all this because you’re just that crazy of a person?” Tartum said, sarcastically.

  Rashlarr bristled at this remark, his mask slipping for just a moment, just long enough for Tartum to see the jealousy in his eyes. Just as fast as it was there, however, it was gone, replaced once again by the jovial, almost simple look of glee in his eyes. “No, my friend, no, I want to recruit you so that we may use you in our...operation.”

  “Who is We? Recruit me for what? And what operaton are you talking about?” Tartum asked.

  “I represent the Thieves Guild, my boy, and a caster of your potential would be more valuable than all the gemstones in the dwarven strongholds.” Rashlarr chuckled.

  “The Thieves Guild!” Tartum thought. The guild was one of the most vile and despicable organizations in Saroth. It was also one of the most feared by the population of the city. There had always been thieves in the world, and for the most part, they worked independently of each other. The bards used to say that when Saroth was first founded, it sheltered its fair share of thieves and thugs, all looking to steal each others’ property to sell and live their lives in luxury. Some of the more vile ones simply stole for the thrill of the challenge. Tartum had been robbed only moments after arriving in Saroth. If it hadn’t been for Isidor switching around his gold with rocks, he would have been penniless! Tartum had little love for thieves.

  The bards also said that as Saroth got bigger, more and more thieves started springing up amongst the populace. This made for major confusion among the thieves, and it became common for them to run into each other while robbing the same establishment at the same time. The resulting fight between the thieves usually resulted in the guards capturing them both and them being hung the following day. The lack of organization was beginning to not only cull the population of thieves in the city, but was beginning to ruin their reputation as fierce men and women of the shadows. Most of the population didn’t mind this development.

  Just as people were beginning to refer to the thieves of Saroth as jesters and fools, a remarkable event took place. The queen was kidnapped out of the bed that she shared with the king. There was no warning or reason for it. One morning, the king rolled over and discovered a scarecrow, dressed in a mock likeness of his wife sitting in the bed next to him. Every guard, magistrate, and knight the king commanded, raided every home and building in Saroth. The king was very fond of his queen and was sick with worry. For three days, they searched and for three days they found no trace of her. Then, after four days had passed, the queen was seen walking down the streets of Saroth, heading towards the castle. She was a wreck, her once beautiful hair was completely sheared off; her face was bruised and swollen. She bled from numerous cuts and scrapes. Her wrists were stained red, indicating she had been bound for some time. With the exception of a sign hanging around her neck, she was completly nude.

  Soldiers found her and covered her with heavy blankets. She fainted and was carried back to the throne room. The king was crushed when he saw the condition of his beloved queen and sent for the greatest healers in the city. They arrived and healed her physcial wounds with ease. Yet she didn’t recover fully. She laid in her bed, twisting and moaning about how much something inside of her hurt. Only then, did the king take notice the sign that had been hanging from her neck. Upon reading it, he discovered it was a ransom note.

 
“If you ever want your queen to be whole again, dump 10,000 gold pieces into the sewers before nightfall. Only then, will you recieve the antidote to the poison that’s killing her. Be quick! If the sun rises before she receives the antidote, she will die.”

  The king was outraged and ordered his men to search the city and find out who was responsible. Meanwhile, he had every healer in the city summoned, working on curing the poisoned queen. They tried everything, yet no mattter what the king promised or threatened they couldn’t cure the poison inside of her. Finally, as the sun was going down, the king decided to give in to the demands and had his men dump the ransom into the sewers. Grief and worry for his queen overrode everything else. He didn’t care about the money as long as she survived this malady.

  After the men were dispatched, the king ordered everyone out of the room. He wanted to be alone with his wife. If she was to die this night, he wanted to be the last person she saw so that she would recognize him when he followed her to the after world. They had been in seclusion for an hour, when he felt a light touch on his shoulder. He turned around and saw a man in full plate armor standing before him. The man identified himself as the leader of the thieves of Saroth and told the king if he called for his guards his queen would die. The king was silent, except to demand the man give him the antidote.

  The king tried to see what the man looked like, but his helmet completely obscured his face. The man held out a vial of liquid and said she would be spared if the king swore to make a decree the following morning. The man told the king he would declare the thieves guild a critical threat to the citizens of Saroth and no longer to be considered a joke. He was to declare that it was the thieves that kidnapped the queen from her bed and poisoned her. He was to tell the people that he paid the ransom and that they would be wise to do the same if faced with the same situation. In return, he promised the guild wouldn’t rob or plunder the town in excess, as long as the respect for his guild was never forgotten among the people of Saroth.The king threw himself at the vial and swore an oath on his life that he would.