Tartum rolled over on his back and stared at the ceiling. His head was spinning, and he could do nothing but wait for it to stop. Staying completely still was helping. Rashlarr’s deformed face appeared over him, and Tartum could do nothing but stare. It was both the most hideous and most beautiful face Tartum had ever seen, and the wave of nausea returned. Using what little willpower he had left, Tartum forced down the nausea and made eye contanct with this thing that called itself Rashlarr. If it was going to kill him, Tartum wasn’t going to give it the pleasure of seeing him puke. The creature’s face contorted into what Tartum assumed was a smile. Tartum felt his grasp on consciousness slipping. It was almost a relief.
“Well done, half-breed...” Rashlarr’s twisted face said to him. “I haven’t seen magic like that in quite sometime. Not since the Origin Wars. Yes...yes...you have proven quite entertaining. I look forward to seeing how far you go, half-breed. I will tell this vessel to teach you many secrets...many secrets. You won’t say anything about this, and we will teach you secrets...yes? No, no...you won’t...I know your kind...you won’t sacrifice the secrets we will teach you in exchange for silence. See you soon, half-breed...” Rashlarr’s crooked face said to him. The thing sounded like Rashlarr, but the mouth speaking the words formed them in such an odd way it was almost like it was tasting each word before it said them. Rashlarr’s face disappeared from his view, and Tartum found himself staring at the ceiling again. Many questions were coursing through his mind.
Why did it call him “half-breed”? What were the Origin Wars? What the hells is Rashlarr? What kind of secrets did they have for him? What the hells was going on? Tartum didn’t know how long he lay there, but he guessed it was hours. When he finally felt strong enough, he sat up and looked around. There was a large chunk of rock missing where his fireball had impacted, and the stone in the places that the green fire had burned looked warped and melted. Tartum found himself extremely proud of the damage he had done and was looking forward to trying again. Other than the damage to the wall and floors and a few missing torches, the room seemed fine and Tartum didn’t even detect smoke in the room. Looking around for Rashlarr, he found him sitting down a few yards away from and looking worried.
“Well, half...err...Apprentice. I have some explaining to do, don’t I?” Rashlarr almost looked ashamed as he spoke. He kept breaking eye contact and seemed to be having another conversation with some unseen person as he spoke.
“Let me start my explaination with a few questions. What wouldn’t you do for magic? What sacrifice wouldn’t you make? What price wouldn’t you pay in order to have more power and a greater understanding of the mystical arts?” He almost looked desperate for Tartum’s answer as he posed the question.
Tartum took the moment the questions gave him and thought about it. Hadn’t he dedicated his whole life to furthering his knowledge of magic in all its forms? Hadn’t almost every significant moment in his life revolve around magic in one form or another. Hells, he had given his entire life to the study of magic since he was five and has never regretted it. So what wouldn’t he sacrafice for greater power and control over the mystical arts? The answer seemed simple.
“There’s nothing I wouldn’t surrender in order to become more powerful with magic. It’s my purpose in life. It is my life.” Tartum responded.
Rashlarr nodded his understanding. He was visibly relieved by Tartum’s answer. The realization didn’t make Tartum any more comforatable with this man. If he could still be called that.
“I am of a similar mind, apprentice. In fact, I am so ambitious that during a mission, I found something that I thought would make me much stronger in magic extremely fast. Due to my ignorance...and probably my arrogance, I made a miscalculation and found myself...possessed...by the creature you saw take control of me a moment ago.” Rashlarr looked down and said nothing else.
Tartum processed what he had just been told. Rashlarr was a powerful magic user, in a powerful thieves guild, and possessed by a powerful...thing. The memory of what it looked like and how it sounded sent shivers down his spine and caused his stomach to turn. Pushing the memory away, Tartum focused. He had questions he needed answers to before this could go any further.
“How long?” Tartum asked.
Rashlarr just shrugged. “Oh, I dont know. Five, maybe six years ago. Before I was possessed I wasn’t a very remarkable thief. I acutally knew fewer spells than you did. The first master I had after joining taught me very little, very slowly and I could barely grasp the simplest spells. It took me two weeks to light a torch. That fireball spell? I never would have been able to even ignite the sulfur.” Rashlarr looked deeply ashamed at his admission. “If it wasn’t for Calimsha, that’s her name, I would have probably been killed long ago by a rival guild or by a guard or shop owner. The magic Calimsha has shown me has saved my life, and the life of other guild members, many times over the years.”
Tartum nodded his understanding. Tartum didn’t think he would have accepted possession in order to increase his power, but he wasn’t sure he’d decline it either. The admission of that fact to himself didn’t disturb him as much as he thought it should.
“Who else knows about this?” Tartum asked.
Again, Rashlarr simply shrugged. “I think Savall suspects something, but as long as I keep getting results he won’t say anything. He doesn’t care how I do what I do, as long as we complete missions successfully and with as little collateral damage as possible. With Calimsha, my success has improved tenfold. Jeth has caught me talking to Calimsha a few times, but he thinks all casters are crazy and probably doesn’t think much beyond that. If he suspects anything, he hasn’t acted on it. Other than them, no one knows. For sure, no one knows as much as you do.” As Rashlarr said his last comment, his eyes took on a predatory look, and Tartum felt cold sweat form on the back of his neck. Those weren’t Rashlarr’s eyes; he knew it was Calimsha. He wondered how much control Rashlarr really had in their relationship. His guess was little to none.
He thought over everything he had been told and decided it really wasn’t that bad. Who was Tartum to judge what was too far in order to gain greater power in magic. He had joined the thieves guild, an organization that wasn’t considered legal or good by most people’s standards, in order to further his power. Rashlarr had simply joined a different type of guild on top of this one. When he thought about it like that, he was a little envious of Rashlarr.
“Why did you...um, Calimsha, call me half-breed?” Tartum’s curiosity peaked as he asked this question. Half-breeds were people that were born from parents that came from two different races. Elf and human were half-elves, horse and human were centaurs, horses and eagles were pegasus. They were rare in the world, and not every half-breed survived long. Tartum remembered a story Isidor had told him about a lonely farmer and his herd of sheep. He was discovered after a local magistrate found a shallow grave full of what looked like large wooly children. Apparently the farmer was having sex with his flock of sheep, and the resulting offspring couldn’t survive much longer than a few years. The town constable deemed the act unconscionable and had the man, and his flock, executed. Pairings between humans and animals are shunned and destroyed when found. Tartum could understand that. He found the idea of having sex with an animal repugnant, and anyone that engaged in such an act would be better off dead.
Rashlarr didn’t respond to his question immediately. He seemed to be communicating with Calimsha again, and the conversation he was having didn’t seem like a pleasant one. It amazed Tartum that he could have been standing right next to Rashlarr while he was having one of these conversations, and he wouldn’t have thought anything about it. If it hadn’t been for what he had witnessed, he still wouldn’t know. The thought was more than a little unsettling.
After a few minutes, Rashlarr’s eyes focused and he seemed to be back in this world again. Tartum knew that accepting the fact that Rashlarr was going have these internal debates was going to be hard. It was just so...
alien...for someone to have that deep of a conversation in their own head and not be considered crazy. The thought was a grim one, but Tartum decided it was just one more hurdle he was going to have to deal with in order to get stronger with magic. Compared to everything else he had been thought this minor inconvenience was a small price to pay.
“Hmm, Tartum this is difficult to explain, and I only can tell you what Calimsha says, and she’s telling me very little. You’re a half-breed. Mostly, you’re human, but your subconscious isn’t. She won’t tell me what you’re crossed with, but she says it’s powerful and it’s why you can force magic to do your bidding.” Saying that last statement seemed to confuse Rashlarr. He looked like he was about to say something else, but then he jerked like he had been struck. Recovering, he continued, “Calimsha says when you get desperate, or angry, your other half comes out and gives you what you need in order to cast the spell. In fact, she says if it wasn’t for your other half, you would have failed to cast your fireball spell and possibly caused burn out, or flat out killed yourself. She says that over time you will learn to access your subconscious and use your reserve at will. Until then, it will make itself manifest in other ways like with the green flame or your glowing red eyes. Other than that though, it gives you quite the advantage when casting, and that is one of the reasons she wants me to continue training you.” He said, he looked considerably confused at this but explained himself no further.
Tartum took in all that he was just told. He wasn’t fully human. A part of him was something else, something not human, that was powerful in magic. It didn’t make sense; he knew for sure his dad was human. He had raised him for sixteen years before he died. He had asked his dad about his mother numerous times, and he had never been lead to believe his mom was anything other than human. His father had decribed her as tall, lithe, beautiful, with long black hair, and brown eyes. He had told him she had died when he was young and that he never found another woman to be with because it didn’t seem right. No, Tartum thought, No that’s not right...he never said she died, he said that the gods needed her more than us. His head raced with the possibilities. So many questions and no answers. Tartum looked up at Rashlarr.
“It doesn’t make sense. I knew my father, and he was completely human. He told me my mother was human, told me about her. She...died...when I was young so I never knew her, but if she wasn’t human what else could she have been? What am I!? Why won’t Calimsha tell me what I am?” Tartum asked, he was getting upset at this new revelation.
Rashlarr seemed to be having another conversation in his head and after a few moments responded. “She just won’t. I won’t lie to you, Tartum, Calimsha is in charge. I get to walk around and have control of my body and functions most of the time, but when she wants control she gets it, and there’s nothing I can do about it. If she doesn’t want to tell you something then there’s nothing you or I or anyone else can do to change her mind. I advise you to be grateful she told you anything and leave it at that.” Rashlarr seemed nervous, he was struggling with something, and with some effort, he continued, “She, almost seems...scared...” Rashlarr’s head snapped back and he cried out in pain. Tartum watched helplessly as Rashlarr was punished for revealing this information to him. He didn’t know what to do to help him, and he didn’t know if he wanted to. The way Tartum saw it, Rashlarr made this deal with the devil, so he had to deal with the consequences. After a few minutes, Rashlarr stopped screaming and balled up into fetal position shaking. Tartum gave him some time to compose himself. About ten minutes later, Rashlarr sat up. He looked defeated and saddened. The look reminded Tartum of a child that had just been beaten for doing something they shouldn’t have. The thought made Tartum laugh to himself. Rashlarr was in a living hell, and Tartum decided no amount of magical ability was worth what he was going through. Being a half-breed suddenly didn’t seem so bad.
“So, in return for my silence, and my ability to entertain Calimsha, she said something about teaching me secrets. I assume that means more powerful magic spells, correct?” Tartum asked, trying to get the conversation going again. This part was important to him, and he was getting tired of all the soul searching.
Rashlarr simply nodded. At first, Tartum was irritated at his silence but realized that this deal with the devil he was making really didn’t require any more conversation. Smiling to himself he stood up.
“I find these terms acceptable then, Calimsha. I’ll stay quiet, you show me your secrets. I promise to keep you entertained as long a I can.” Tartum’s confidence was heavily present in his voice. Rashlarr simply nodded again and pointed at the wall. Tartum took the hint and picked up his bag of sulfur. Taking his position in the middle of the room, he prepared himself to cast another fireball at the wall.
...
Picking up the bag of sulfur one last time, Tartum scraped the residue off the bottom of the bag. It had been full a few days ago, and Tartum was disappointed that this was the last time he was going to be able to cast the fireball spell today. For the past three days, he had done nothing but practice his new favorite spell. The jade green spheres of fire and destruction were as familiar to him now as his own hands. Tartum loved this spell; now that he had gotten the hang of splitting his concentration between two focuses, it was second nature. Looking at the sulfur dust that sat in a small pile on his palm, Tartum opened himself to the magic.
“Doctay-von-we!” he spoke, as he felt the magic flowing through him into the sulfur. The small amount of dust could hold very little magic and the green fireball that formed from it was only about the size of a child’s fist. Far from discouraged, Tartum felt a thrill at knowing what he had created. Almost without thinking, Tartum willed the flame into a flowing green sphere of hot destruction and split his focus so he could choose his target at the end of the room. The hole he created in the wall had become quite large. About thirty feet deep and just as wide, he was proud of the damage his spell had caused. At first he had been worried that Rashlarr might not let him continue casting this spell due to the damage he was causing to the room. When he had voiced his concern, Rashlarr had shrugged and told him, “It’s just a room.” It was the response Tartum had hoped for.
“Beath!” he commanded. The small, green, fireball shot out of his hand and sailed across the room, slamming into the center of the crater in the wall and detonated, with significant force considering its size. As expected, the explosion started a few small green fires that grew in intensity as they burned. Rashlarr, or perhaps Calimsha, had told Tartum that the residual flames were remnants of his subconcious power and only Tartum, or another equally gifted caster, would be able to extinguish them. It was the reason Calimsha had to take control of Rashlarr the first day in order to stop the flames from spreading. It was also the reason Tartum now gave the command “Uush!” At his command, the flames winked out of existence.
“Well done, apprentice, very well done. I do believe you have mastered the fireball spell.” Rashlarr said. He had regained some of his old self, since Calimsha had punished him for saying too much. Although not completely at ease around him, Tartum noted that as time went on Rashlarr’s guard was going down. He still wasn’t sure if it was Rashlarr or Calimsha that was the most nervous around him. He didn’t much care as long as the training continued.
“Thank you, Masters. What do you have in store for me next?” Tartum asked. Pluralizing “master” seemed right, given the circumstances and as long as they were alone Rashlarr didn’t object. In fact, he had told Tartum that Calimsha found it entertaining. That alone was worth remembering to address them both. As long as Calimsha was happy, his training would continue. He dreaded the idea of angering her and having to fight against whatever she was. Her voice alone had almost broken his sanity. He didn’t want to imagine what she could do to him if she wanted to harm or kill him.
“Well, we were thinking, in order to give the room a break, that we would teach you a defensive spell.” Rashlarr told him. As he finished his explanation, he t
ossed something small to Tartum. Catching it, he looked down and saw that he had just been given a tiny blue sapphire.
Tartum was intrigued, and Rashlarr was smiling. He almost seemed like himself for a moment. The smile vanished almost as quickly as it appeared, and Rashlarr was all business once again. “The spell I will teach you is a preemptive one. It takes longer to cast than the fireball spell because it’s more powerful. It creates a magical dome that completely surrounds you and will absorb one aggressive attack that is made on your person. So, for example, if someone tried to stab you in the back or shoot you with an arrow, the dome will absorb the attack but will be dispelled in the process. Do not think of it as an armor. It’s more of a warning, a last chance to defend yourself if your enemy gets the drop on you. It also requires some foresight on your part. Since it takes longer to cast, I don’t advise you attempt to cast it if you’re already in a combat situation. You’re very exposed during the casting, and if you move or mispronounce the words, well as you can guess, the spell will fail, and you’ll not only be exposed but severely weakened. Also, the component required, as you can see, isn’t the cheapest of items. The sapphire required can be a tiny pebble, like the one I gave you, or the size of a house. It doesn’t matter. The effects and the traits of the spell will be the same. I advise you try to keep a few sapphires on you at all times...as your purse allows.” Rashlarr’s smile returned.
Tartum nodded his understanding and waited for Rashlarr to continue. Rashlarr’s eyes glazed over, Tartum was getting used to the look. It indicated that he was having a conversation with Calimsha and all he could do was wait for them to finish. The fact that it occured more and more often didn’t bother him as much as the feeling that he was being left out of something important did. Tartum was finding their behavior rather inconsiderate. The fact that they would talk amongst themselves like he wasn’t in the room made Tartum feel insignificant and awkward. He made his peace with it by telling himself that it was just one more indignation he would have to endure to further his own power. The knowledge of that fact allowed him to deal with the situation, but he didn’t think he would ever be comfortable with it.
The Jade Mage: The Becoming: Volume 1 Page 31
