The Jade Mage: The Becoming: Volume 1

by Latoria, William D.

  What really began to bother Tartum was the fact that Jeth’s predictions kept coming true. First with the rat and now with their first fight. “See? I knew I could make you do it!” The snide, arrogant way Jeth spoke to him in his moments of triumph infuriated Tartum. How in the hells did the bastard know how each session was going to end? Was he setting him up for failure? Was there some trick to it? Was he not telling him everything to increase the chance that the outcome would be favorable for himself? Tartum didn’t know. He was reasonably sure that it had nothing to do with luck, cheating, or chance. Jeth had told him since the first day in the Null Box, all he had to do was eat the dead rat. It was also Tartum’s fault for hesitating when he should have finished his thrust and beaten him. Jeth certainly hadn’t hesitated. He admitted to himself, it wasn’t that Jeth was tricking him. It was simply that Jeth really was that good.

  Grudgingly, Tartum gave the man the mental nod of respect such skill demanded. He would acknowledge the fact that he was skilled, but that didn’t mean he had to like it. Nor did it mean he couldn’t become superior to Jeth and beat the smugness out of him.

  Tartum heard someone whistling outside his door.The tune was merry and whimsical. He knew Jeth had arrived and stood to leave. Opening the door, Tartum wasn’t surprised to see the man leaning against the wall opposite his door.

  “Morning, Recruit! I see you took my advice about waking up earlier to prepare. Good! I’m in the mood to have a lackey throw up today.” Jeth said, with his usual sarcasm.

  “We shall see, Jeth. I’m a fast learner, and if I remember correctly, you did catch a crack to the head yesterday.” Tartum retorted.

  Jeth’s resulting smile seemed more threatening than if he had growled. “Are you talking about the hit I took moments before you were on the ground screaming for Vaund? How’s your leg, by the way?”

  Tartum didn’t answer. The scar on the side of his leg was thin, but it went up half his thigh. It was his first scar of its type, and he knew it wouldn’t be his last. He hoped there wouldn’t be another today, at least.

  Tartum walked past Jeth and headed towards the combat room. Jeth followed behind him, throwing barbs the whole time.

  “What’s wrong, Tartum? Did I hurt your feelings? Maybe your vagina hurts? Think we should call Vaund? Awwww, come on, Tartum! Don’t be so upset. With your skills, you could probably beat up alot of people. Animals, old men...hells, you could probably take down a small class of young children! In fact, I seem to remember Rashlarr telling me he found you amongst a half dozen of them. Wow, you killed six kids! They must have been really dangerous!” Jeth’s sarcasm grew with each insult.

  Finally, Tartum had enough. They were almost to the combat room, as he spun around to face Jeth. “I swear to you, before my time is up on this world, I will see you dead. This I promise you!” Tartum’s fury emphasized the words.

  Jeth looked at him with a bemused smile. “Well I guess I’ll live forever then, cause you will never see that, recruit! Come on, let’s put all that aggression to good use.” Jeth shouldered past Tartum and walked into the room.

  Fuming with hatred, Tartum followed.

  ...

  As Tartum entered the combat room, he saw Vaund sitting in the same spot he was in the day prior. He was sitting in his chair, reading a book. Tartum thought it may be a spell book. He wondered if Vaund would teach him how to heal himself if he asked. He decided to make a mental note and ask him after today’s session.

  Squaring off against Jeth, Tartum prepared himself for the battle. Jeth stood at ease, studying him. He hadn’t even unsheathed his daggers yet. Tartum thought it may be a trap, but he figured he’d spring that trap, just to figure out what it was. Opening himself to the magic, he focused and began advancing on him. Jeth held up his hand, halting Tartum in his tracks.

  “Stop, recruit. If you are ever going to be a threat to me, I must teach you how to predict what movements your opponent will use. Your fighting style is good, I’ll give you that, but you’re mainly a defensive fighter. You adapt quickly to your opponent’s attacks, and by some miracle, you parry or avoid them. You could probably hold me off long enough to run away. My point is, you need to watch your opponent’s movements closer. When fighting, you should be thinking of nothing, other than the next step. Remove anger, pain, and all other thoughts from your head. Observe their movement. If their hips swivel to the left, and their knee stays unbent, then you know they’re planning to attack you high and to the left. If their hips swivel to the left, and their knee is bent, it’s going to be a lower attack. Watch their pivot foot and where they’re looking. Your reflexes are good, it’s your mind that’s slow.” Jeth said. For a moment, he almost sounded like a sage instructor rather than a pompous bastard.

  Tartum took his advice into consideration and prepared himself. Jeth sighed and pulled out his daggers. Looking at Tartum, a wicked grin spread across his face.

  “I believe you were about to attack me, before I stopped you; by all means continue.” he said.

  Without hesitation, Tartum attacked.

  The fight seemed to be going well for him. Jeth had been falling back steadily, and Tartum was pressing his advantage. He was watching Jeth’s eyes and his feet, trying to predict where he might try to find an opening to launch a counter attack. So far, he thought he was doing well. There were even a few times he thrust his staff through an opening his mind told him wasn’t there to nick or graze Jeth. Feeling his staff almost hit home was a delicious sensation. Seeing Jeth sweat was all the more encouraging and kept him pressing for advantage and pushing through the pain of his protesting muscles.

  Tartum felt he had him. He was backing Jeth against the wall. He was mere inches from having his back against it, and then Tartum knew he could finish him. Vaund would be healing Jeth this day! Tartum was already celebrating his victory in his head, when Jeth did something remarkable. He flattened himself against the wall, while reversing his grip on both daggers. Throwing both of them up in the air, he used his backwards momentum to scale a few steps up the wall and launch himself over Tartum’s head. Too stunned to attack, Tartum watched Jeth sommersault through the air over him and land nimbly on his feet a few paces behind him. Tartum was floored when both daggers fell out of the air and landed perfectly in Jeth’s outstretched hands.

  Regaining his fighting stance, Jeth’s grin was back on his face. “Close one, recruit!” he said.

  Jeth threw himself at Tartum, and the impact sent them both slamming into the wall. Tartum felt something in his lower back slip, and a sharp, burning pain creeped up the muscles along his spine. Grabbing Jeth by the back of the head, Tartum slammed his face into the wall and jumped away, readying himself for Jeth’s counter assault.

  Jeth’s nose was pouring blood, and his face was bruised and swelling. Tartum’s back was on fire, and it hurt to twist towards either side. Tartum knew he was in bad shape. Jeth looked hurt but not defeated. If anything, he looked angry. Tartum thought about yielding, he thought about running away, but he knew he’d never make it. With his back hurt and his strength almost depleted, he knew he had to think of something quick or suffer the pain of defeat. The idea of losing again made Tartum angry. He wanted to win, not just to say he did. He wanted to hurt Jeth. He wanted him to pay! Tartum’s anger bubbled inside him. It was enough for one final push, and he had a plan. Tartum lunged at Jeth with a roar. It was time to end this fight, one way or the other.

  The attack took Jeth by surprise, and he fell back to compensate for the momentum of Tartum’s attack. The look of fear was in Jeth’s eyes again, and it fueled Tartum’s anger, whipping him into a fury. He drew more and more magic inside of him. He was a demon, he was hot rage, he would defeat this man! Tartum swung low, trying to sweep Jeth’s legs out from under him; Jeth barely jumped out of the way. Tartum’s sight went red, and he jumped in the air, bringing his staff down at him like an axe. Jeth got his daggers up in time, and for a moment they were locked together. Seeing Jeth staring at hi
m, Tartum knew this was his chance. Closing his eyes, Tartum screamed.

  “LIGHT!”

  Jeth had seen Tartum close his eyes tight and knew something was amiss. On instinct alone, Jeth shut his eyes, just as the staff began to burst into light. Vaund wasn’t as fortunate and screamed in shock, as the sudden brightness momentarily blinded him. Jeth fell back and waited; he knew Tartum would have to cancel the spell before he opened his own eyes. He stalked to the side, waiting for his chance.

  Tartum heard the scream and felt the resistance from Jeth disappear. He had him! Just like with Isidor. In triumph, Tartum spoke the word, “Dark!” and opened his eyes. As he allowed his eyes to focus, Tartum felt liquid fire pass into his right arm all the way through. As quickly as he felt it going into his arm, he felt it being torn back out. As he was reeling from that pain, something bashed him in his head. He was dazed, he stumbled around in a stupor trying to figure out what just happened. Something hit him in his face, hard. Then again, and again. Tartum was falling; he never felt himself hit the floor.

  ...

  Vaund rubbed his eyes and waited for the big black circle to remove itself from his vision. He couldn’t see past it, and his eyes watered from the strain. He heard the wet thunk of fist on flesh and heard someone hit the ground hard. He wasn’t sure which one of them was down, but he knew the battle was over.

  “Tartum? Jeth? Who won?” Vaund asked.

  “Who do you think won?” Jeth replied. He sounded shaken. “Did...did you see his eyes? At the end? Tell me you saw his eyes!” Jeth almost yelled.

  Vaund knew exactly what Jeth meant. At the end, just before Tartum had commanded his staff to light up, his eyes began to glow red. It was terrifying. The look on his face was primal, like Tartum was changing into a beast right before their eyes.

  “Yes, I saw his eyes. They were glowing red. Could it be because of his spell? Should we be concerned?” Vaund asked.

  “I’ve never seen anything like it before.” Jeth said, looking down at Tartum’s unconscious form. “I’m half tempted to finish him off right now. Its only been two days, and already the recruit has me fighting at full, just to keep up with him. I can’t imagine how much stronger than the rest of us he’ll become, once Rashlarr gets ahold of him.”

  Jeth stood over Tartum, watching him breathe. He watched as the blood flowed out of his arm. He had passed his dagger through the meat, twisted and pulled it back out. It was a kill shot, and Tartum would bleed to death if Vaund didn’t do something soon. Jeth wondered if he should let Tartum die. He was afraid of him, and usually that would have been enough for him to kill anyone. There was something about him, though. Something that wouldn’t let him finish the man off. Jeth was curious to see what would happen. He wanted to know how far Tartum would go. Jeth’s dream was to run the thieves guild out of the king’s palace. With Tartum, that dream might finally come true! His decision made Jeth grab Vaund up and half drag him to Tartum’s body.

  “Fix him, Healer, or you’ll suffer his fate.” Jeth said. There was no sarcasm in his voice, and Vaund heeded his command.

  Jeth watched closely as Vaund’s magic did its job. He saw Tartum’s breathing become easier and his color return. Just like yesterday, he was coming back from the brink, as if there was nothing to it. Remarkable! Jeth decided he would consult Rashlarr about Tartum’s glowing eyes next time he saw him. While they were terrifying, Jeth didn’t have the skill in magic to fully understand how something like that was possible. Besides, it didn’t seem to help him win the fight. How dangerous could glowing eyes be?

  Laughing, Jeth put his hand on Vaund’s shoulder and squeezed. Vaund flinched as he looked up. “Ok, he’s fine. Now heal me. My face is killing me.” Jeth said. His sarcastic tone once more dominant in his voice.

  ...

  Tartum woke up to Vaund’s hand on his head. He appeared tired and had a look of concern on his face. Tartum, as before, felt physically fine. His pride, on the other hand, was deeply wounded.

  Looking up at Vaund, Tartum asked, “What happened?”

  Vaund never got the chance to answer. Jeth walked over and sat down next to Vaund, looking down at Tartum. The expression on his face was his typical sarcastic grin. He’d seen it all too often, as of late. It didn’t strike Tartum as odd that Jeth would stick around to gloat. The bastard took sick pleasure in the pain of others. Tartum imagined that Jeth tortured small animals in his room during his off time, just to keep his distance from humanity. Tartum’s hate for this man grew with each moment.

  “I know what you’re thinking, recruit. Golly-Gee! What was the name of that hero that pummeled me so throughly?!” Jeth said, with his usual sarcasm; “What happened was, you took my advice and started using your head! Thinking to use your staff to blind me was genius! Unfortunately, I’m much much smarter than you, and I was able to see through your little trick just in time to avoid it.” Seeing Tartum’s confused look, Jeth elaborated. “I closed my eyes when you did. Then I simply waited to hear you say something to turn off the blinding light and attacked. You almost got me. As it is, I think you broke my nose before Vaund fixed it.” Jeth reached up and stroked his nose. He looked fine, other than the dried blood all over his face and shirt.

  Flexing his right arm, Tartum felt some stiffness in the muscle, but other than that he felt good, just tired from the exertion. Looking through his torn sleeve, Tartum saw a jagged scar that seemed like a wider, uglier version of the one on his leg.

  Tartum let his head sink down and sighed. “Damn it.” he swore.

  “Damn it indeed, recruit. Aww, don’t feel too bad, you might just beat me yet.” Laughing, Jeth stood up and walked out of the room. Just before he was out of ear shot, he yelled, “See you same time tomorrow!”

  ...

  Jeth found Rashlarr in the kitchen. He found that convenient, because it was exactly where he wanted to be. He always felt very hungry after Vaund healed him. Rashlarr was sitting at one of the tables, absently eating an apple while reading one of his tomes. Jeth didn’t like to disturb him while he was reading, Rashlarr never took interruptions well, but he needed to talk to someone that might understand what just happened, and right now he was the only one available.

  “Rashlarr, you got a minute?” Jeth asked.

  Without looking up from his book, Rashlarr nodded his head.

  “Our new recruit, Tartum, has got something wrong with him.” Jeth said. He wasn’t really sure how to approach the subject. His mind suddenly seemed to be muddled. This always happened when he talked to Rashlarr, which was probably one of the reasons he avoided it.

  Rashlarr shrugged. “Go tell Vaund.” he replied. Clearly, this conversation wasn’t as interesting to him as whatever was in that book.

  Jeth was annoyed. “No, you damned fool! It’s not his health, I’m talking about. He’s got eyes that glow red when he’s angry! It’s terrifying! He almost beat me in our second sparring match because of it, and I want you to explain to me what the hells it is! Is he human? Is that some kind of caster trick? It’s the second time I’ve seen his eyes do that! The first time was in the Box. Then today. What the hells does it mean?” Jeth’s frustration was growing with each word. By the time he was done with his explanation, Rashlarr had looked up from his book.

  “His eyes glow red? Like fire?” he asked, looking interested in the conversation for the first time.

  “No, not like fire.” Jeth said, relieved that Rashlarr was taking him seriously now. “Like rubies. A deep, bold red. Both of his eyes radiate the glow, and he goes almost primal. I still beat him, but it was just barely. What do you think? Is he some kind of half breed?” Jeth asked.

  Rashlarr seemed to be having a conversation in his head. After a moment, he nodded and looked back at Jeth. “Sounds like it’s really no big deal. So what? His eyes glow red, and it makes him scary. As long as he doesn’t sprout wings and open the gates to hell, I’m pretty sure we’ll be alright.” Seeing this answer didn’t satisfy Jeth, Rashlarr sighe
d in irritation.”Ok, if you’re still concerned, bring me some of his blood. I’m sure you can sop some off the floor of the combat room. From what I remember, your lessons were never gentle.”

  Jeth removed a dagger from its sheath. It was still coated in blood. In his shock, he had forgotten to clean them before leaving. “Will this be enough?” he asked. The look of concern still on his face.

  Taking a small vial from his pouch, Rashlarr scraped some of the thick, drying blood off the dagger and placed it inside. When it was full, he replaced the stopper and returned the vial to his pouch. “I’ll do what I can with this tonight, and if he turns out to be a demon, I’ll let you know.” Rashlarr said. His tone indicated he was done with the conversation.

  Not knowing what else to say, Jeth resheathed his dagger and left. His appetite was suddenly gone.

  Rashlarr watched him leave. He looked completely lost and confused. Whatever he had seen Tartum do, it had shaken a man that had never been shaken. Rashlarr had seen Jeth stare down a half dozen guards that had him at spear point. He’d seen him mouth off to Savall, in front of a conclave of the highest ranking thieves, without flinching. He’d heard that while he was in the Null Box, only a bit of advice given to him at the last minute saved him from starving to death, all the while taunting his appraiser. To see such a man shaken up now, after all he’d been through, was enough to let him know this was something serious.

  “What do you think, Calimsha?” Rashlarr asked, in his head. Calimsha was the demon that shared his body. Years ago, Rashlarr had discovered a scroll that would allow him to summon demons. In his ignorance and greed, Rashlarr saw this as an oppurtunity to increase his power and stake a bigger claim in the guild, perhaps even take it over. He had cast the spell, and as promised, a demon appeared. Unfortunately, it didn’t appear as Rashlarr had thought it would. The circle he thought he was supposed to stand in, was the circle that contained the demon and stopped it from entering our realm. Rashlarr had accidentally summoned the demon into his own body, as an extra twist of fate, however, the binding circle was warped by the magic flux of the two realms, and infused itself into Rashlarr’s body. The result was that now the demon was trapped inside his body, and the binding ring gave his skin the appearance of him having a tattoo. Some people have told him it looks like the tattoo is moving. In reality, it’s Calimsha trying to find a way out.