Marin's Codex

by Benjamin Medrano

  “You would have, but . . . she hasn’t been to dinner with us in a month, Emonael. She hasn’t listened to Uthar’s playing or anything. The last time I saw her, instead of a handful of gray hairs, nearly a tenth of her hair had gone white. She’s aging faster, it seems like,” Damiya said, swallowing hard as she asked, “Why . . . why aren’t you stopping her? You’re the only one who could, you know that.”

  “It’s . . .” Emonael paused, taking a moment and hugging her friend tight, pulling the covers close around them. For a long minute she was quiet, listening to the soft creaks of the Grand Hall around them, where other students were still about in their rooms. Finally, she sighed and spoke again, her voice sad. “You’re right. She’s pushing herself harder than she should. I could stop her, yes, but I can’t do that.”

  “Why not? You seem to care about her more than anyone else does,” Damiya asked, half-pulling herself from Emonael’s embrace to look at her in concern. “I’ve seen the way you’ve hovered over her, Emonael. You’ve never given anyone else a gift, yet you took the time to make that robe for her, and to buy her that copper mug. You care about her more than any of the other High Magi, so why aren’t you helping her?”

  “Because it would be a betrayal, Damiya,” Emonael replied softly, and to her shock, she felt tears brimming in her eyes. She brushed at them as she took a deep breath, reaching up to cup Damiya’s cheeks as she continued. “I love her, Damiya. Not like I love you . . . or anyone else, for that matter. She trusts me to continue her research if she dies in the middle of it. She has utterly changed my life in ways that I couldn’t conceive of, yet she’s a . . . a mentor, and a friend. It’s her life’s work, and she told me once that she could extend her life, but she won’t. She wants nothing more than to finish her research, to write down all that she has learned, and then to let herself pass on. So could I stop her? Undoubtedly. But to stop her, I’d also have to betray her trust in a way that’s incalculable to me.”

  “What?” Damiya’s eyes went wide. “She’s not . . .”

  “No, no, I misspoke. She’s not going to kill herself, or anything.” Emonael quickly assured Damiya, shaking her head and pulling her lover into her arms again. “She’s just . . . she wants to be done. Then she’ll live out her years, spreading what she finished as far and wide as she can before age takes her.”

  “Oh,” Damiya murmured, her voice soft, sadness obvious as she gave Emonael a gentle kiss. “I don’t understand it, but I can understand your reasons. It’s just sad.”

  “Yes. Yes it is,” Emonael murmured softly.

  Chapter 29

  Andrew’s spell caused a spike of stone to erupt from the earth like an arrow from a bow, but Emonael didn’t even flinch, just watching it fly at her, only to shatter against her barrier. His face fell, and Emonael let out a loud, annoyed sigh.

  “You’re predictable, Andrew! Why’re you attacking me from the front, when you can use any part of the ground to attack?” Emonael demanded. “You don’t have the power to take most magi on head-on, not yet! Attack me from the back or sides. Sure, it’s a bit harder, but at least it’d be more unexpected, and not everyone is going to be good at shields in every direction! They’re going to concentrate their defenses on where they expect an attack to come from, so use that.”

  “Right, right.” Andrew agreed, taking a deep breath and speaking again, his voice steady as he cast the spell again, this time sending a shard of stone from the ridge to her left, and Emonael nodded in satisfaction, not blinking as it shattered against the shield again.

  “Much better. Always vary your attacks, because becoming predictable is the worst thing that can happen to you in combat,” Emonael told him, glancing round at the others, who looked like they’d pretty well wrapped up the sparring for the day. “I think we’re done for the moment, though.”

  “Thank you, Emonael. I just can’t think quickly about spells, yet. A few, like the light spell, are instinctive, but I haven’t practiced the others enough for that,” Andrew gasped, leaning over and breathing hard. She’d forced him to go through dozens of spells in only a few minutes, so she really couldn’t blame him for being out of breath.

  Despite the effort Andrew put into his training, the young man definitely trailed the others by a noticeable margin by this point, which was the main reason Emonael had chosen to help him rather than any of the others. The main problem for Andrew was the lack of power relative to the others, so more finesse and skill was in order, at least in Emonael’s opinion. He was getting there, if only slowly.

  “That’s just how it goes,” Nia said, coming over and offering Andrew a hand, her forehead glistening with faint sweat. Grinning at Emonael, she continued. “Uthar conceded, Emonael, so that’s a win for me.”

  “She overwhelmed me with raw power,” Uthar added, as Andrew took Nia’s hand and stood up straight. The bard continued, shaking his head. “I think your advice for Andrew applies to me as well, at least when I’m up against someone like Nia!”

  “It likely does at that,” Emonael agreed, smiling as she shook her head. “Once all of you have your spells down better, you’d best learn to dodge! I took down a foreign magister in part because I sidestepped her attack right as she completed the spell, not because I had a shield up and took it head-on! Christoff, Damiya? Who won your match?”

  “As per the norm, I lost.” Christoff admitted readily, not looking like he minded that much as he shrugged. “I’m good at defense, but defense doesn’t win battles.”

  “He’s being modest. He almost knocked me off my feet by animating some roots near me,” Damiya interrupted, glaring in mock anger at her friend. “I didn’t know that you could animate things inside a shield!”

  “That’s because you can’t, unless it’s something that goes through a shield, like a tree’s roots.” Emonael explained, nodding at Christoff in approval. “That was excellent thinking, Christoff, even if it didn’t quite work.”

  “I tried it because nothing else was working, and I thought she wasn’t watching the ground. Thanks, though; it helps to know why it worked.” Christoff replied, his face brightening.

  “You’re welcome. That doesn’t absolve you, Andrew and Uthar, from being in charge of cleaning the dishes tonight, though,” Emonael told them, and laughed at the look of resignation on their faces. “What, did you think I was going to forget?”

  “No, but I could hope.” Andrew replied, sighing heavily. “What’s for dinner tonight, anyway?”

  “It’s actually going to be fairly easy. I put on a simple stew to simmer for most of the day this morning,” Emonael told them, amused at the response. “Some venison and vegetables . . . you know the type. I figure that we’ll make Christoff run into town to get some bread from this morning, and it’ll make for a good dinner.”

  “Why me?” Christoff protested loudly, and Uthar chuckled.

  “You’re always going there anyway; what’s another trip?” the older man asked, pausing a moment before asking, “Also, if they have any sweet rolls or other pastries, would you mind picking one up for me? I’ll pay you back for it.”

  “Me too!” Nia added, her eyes brightening in apparent greed, and Christoff glared at them all for a long moment.

  “Fine, fine . . . but I expect not to have to do the lion’s share of dishes this time!” Christoff told the two other men.

  “I’ll do slightly better for you. I’ll teach all three of you the spell that Marin uses to wash her dishes, if you get things quickly,” Emonael offered, grinning.

  “In that case, I’ll be right back!” Christoff replied, smiling as he turned and eagerly jogged off toward town, to the soft chuckles of everyone else.

  At that moment, Emonael felt an odd tugging sensation at her mind, and she kept herself from blinking at the request for her attention. Instead, she nodded to the others and told them, “I’m going to go check on the stew and on Marin. If you’ll all get ready for dinner? No need to put it off until nearly sunset, not after the ex
ercise you’ve been getting.”

  “I’ll agree with that. I really wish you didn’t have us jogging around the lake, swimming, and doing other exercises each morning,” Nia said, looking at her dirty clothing in distress. The young woman hadn’t been happy when Emonael had added the exercise regimen to their training once the snow was mostly gone, but it was good for her.

  “When you don’t have time to cast a spell to defend yourself, you’re all but out of mana, and an orc is charging at you, the wisest thing is to be in good enough shape to run the hell away,” Emonael told her student gently, grinning as she added. “Or you can be a like a war mage and learn to use the sword as well, but I don’t think you’re that type of person, Nia.”

  “Maybe so. It doesn’t mean I have to like it, though!” Nia protested gamely, heading toward the Grand Hall with the others.

  Damiya lingered a moment, asking. “Emonael? Would you like some help?”

  “Oh no, I’ll be fine. You know how Marin is right now, anyway,” Emonael replied readily, waving her off as she smiled. “Go get cleaned up, and hopefully I’ll have the stew ready by the time everyone gets there.”

  Her friend and lover nodded and wandered off, even as Emonael wondered once again whether she’d been a bit too promiscuous so far. The number of students she’d slept with . . . after a moment she shook it off, deciding it wasn’t even worth worrying about as she headed to Marin’s home. Unlocking the door and stepping inside, she could almost feel the hush that Marin’s obsession had imposed on the building, but it was subtle. Instead of heading to the kitchen or library, Emonael went into Marin’s bedroom.

  Marin’s room was surprisingly simple, and had been from the first time Emonael had seen it. The narrow bed wasn’t even as nice as the one which Emonael had, with pillows so well-used that they were almost flat, and blankets that were worn with use and age. There was a small wardrobe against one wall, and a set of drawers against the other, as well as a locked chest under the bed. The only extravagance to Marin’s personal chambers was the floor-length, oval mirror. It was polished silver in a wooden frame, and Emonael sometimes wondered why Marin had even gotten it. It couldn’t be another gift, she thought, but it was always possible it was. Marin likely had possessed far more friends and admirers than she believed, in Emonael’s view. In some ways, the room depressed Emonael, but the simplicity of it certainly fit Marin.

  Stepping in front of the mirror, Emonael ran through the spell she’d developed once more in her head before she cast it, hoping that the spell would work right. It should, but this would be the first time she used it properly, like she’d intended to use it from the beginning. Magic flowed outward to the mirror, which rippled and warped before clearing slightly to reveal a very startled succubus.

  The woman had vivid golden hair, eyes that looked like they were solid gold, and pink skin. Her horns were the color of honey, and Emonael smiled at the woman as she pursed her lips, obviously surprised as she looked up and down, before crossing her arms and speaking. “Ah, what is this?”

  “It’s Emonael, Vira. I’m currently taking the shape of an elf, and this is my current appearance. You were trying to contact me, were you not?” Emonael asked her lieutenant, grinning in amusement. Vira was voluptuous, even for a succubus, and unusual enough that most other succubi didn’t entirely trust her. Emonael knew better, and liked the efficient, surprisingly intelligent woman.

  Behind her beautiful servant, Emonael could see the obsidian walls of her palace, the black stone the most prevalent building material of the region of the lower planes that she ruled. The halls were mostly dark, but lit by crimson flames here and there as well.

  “Ah, Mistress! I was trying to contact you, yes. But how are you talking to me? The wall turned silver and grew mirrored, and now you’re right there, yet not.” Vira hesitantly reached out to touch the mirror, and it was rather odd to see her fingertips flatten against the far surface.

  “It’s a spell I worked out, to more easily contact those who’re linked to my portfolio,” Emonael replied, shrugging. “It takes a lot of mana, but I can afford that. The problem is that I don’t have a lot of time before others show up, so we need to make this quick, Vira.”

  “Oh, of course! I wanted to let you know that we’ve successfully captured three of the other succubi who were trying to take your head before you were summoned, and the rest of those besieging the palace are either hiding or have been routed. You should be secure to return whenever you so choose, Mistress,” Vira explained briskly. “The three have expressed the desire to serve you since they’re obviously too weak to take your place. Also, as you’ve been occupied in the mortal world, I thought it best to gather information on what other demons have been acting there.”

  “Excellent job, Vira. I was debating what to do about the besiegers, but you’ve dealt with that handily,” Emonael replied, smiling broadly for a moment, then her eyes went flat. “As for the three . . . do you believe that they’re telling the truth?”

  “One swore on her Name and Power, so I believe her. The other two . . . I don’t trust one of them.” Vira said, shrugging. “I wasn’t about to make a decision for you, Mistress, not when they have as much power as they do.”

  “Good. The one who swore an oath, induct her and have her start expanding the library to ten times its current size. Keep the one you trust was honest imprisoned for my eventual return, and execute the last,” Emonael ordered. “I trust your judgement on this, Vira. My time here is currently far more valuable than any time there. I can feel a new mantle of power looming over me.”

  “Indeed? That’s truly impressive, Mistress!” Vira perked up, looking happy. “Might I know which mantle of power it is?”

  “It’s developing, Vira. If anything, it’s new,” Emonael told her servant, grinning at her. “Because of that, I’m going to keep the nature private until I’m certain that it’s mine. In the meantime, what other information have you gathered? I recently saw an entire group of over thirty legion demons in my region, and that annoys me.”

  “Ah, yes! I’ve identified sixty-three demon lords of various powers with current plots in the mortal world, but if I limit the information to those who sent legion demons . . .” Vira murmured, thinking as she tapped her lower lip. “In that particular case, I can tell you that Lord Braemas the Consumer has worked out some sort of deal with a strange cabal of mortals. They call themselves the Brotherhood of High Magi. He’s been supplying them with soldiers, and they’ve been giving him a stream of mortals that he wants.”

  “Lovely. The Consumer, hmm? A lesser form of gluttony . . .” Emonael considered, scowling as she asked. “What can you tell me about this Brotherhood?”

  “Not much, I’m afraid. While we have a great many agents, Mistress, we don’t dare pry too deeply without cause or orders, and there are countless enemies out there,” Vira admitted. “I know they’re from the mortal plane, but that’s almost the limit of my knowledge.”

  “I’d like you to investigate what they’re offering Braemas, and the Brotherhood itself. I’m not asking you to forego security, but consider this higher priority than almost anything else,” Emonael ordered. “I do not want to have him keep meddling in my affairs.”

  “As you say, Mistress. Good luck, and . . . when do you anticipate returning?” Vira asked hopefully. “We’ve missed you, and your power keeps many of the locals quiet.”

  “I’ll be back when I’m done. No more than a decade more, I expect.” Emonael replied, shrugging. “Is there a reason I need to return sooner?”

  “Oh, no! I just have heard tales of some domains which haven’t seen their Lord for a century or more, and was afraid that you might be forgetting about us,” Vira replied, looking like she’d relaxed a fair amount. “I look forward to seeing you again!”

  “And I you, Vira,” Emonael replied, letting the spell fade.After a few moments, her smile faded as she added, “So long as you haven’t gotten overly ambitious. It doesn’t feel like yo
u have, but . . .”

  She shook it off and turned away from the mirror, heading to check on Marin first.

  When Emonael poked her head into the library, she blinked, shaking her head in confusion, as she wondered what Marin was up to this time. The air was filled with glittering motes of light, and Emonael paused, studying them, for it was like tens of thousands of fireflies had entered the library. Some were pale white, others were red, and others blue, while the overwhelming majority were golden-yellow. There were also motes of pure light and purple-black ones, and it took only a few moments for Emonael to realize what they were.

  “Teacher . . . why can I see motes of mana filling the library?” Emonael asked, stepping inside and trying to see past the swirling, moving lights, which proved difficult.

  “Because with the eighth volume, I figured out how to make them visible.” Marin’s voice was distant, almost dreamy, and it didn’t take Emonael long to see that her teacher was in her chair, staring up at the motes in fascination. “I was just thinking . . . one more volume, Emonael. One more to write, and I’ll have shared everything I’ve learned, and more besides. This is beautiful, but not useful. It’s just . . . mana. Now, if someone was able to form a spell large enough to actually form massive spells out of it, like I’m going to write about soon . . . that’ll change things.”

  “I . . . I suppose, Teacher. I still haven’t managed to absorb everything you discussed in the sixth volume, let alone the seventh. You finished the eighth, though?” Emonael asked, stepping closer and frowning in worry. Marin’s hair was fading, nowhere near as bright as it should have been, and her teacher looked thinner. “When did that happen?”

  “A few hours ago. I just started on the ninth. Here, for the copies,” Marin said, picking up a book and offering it to Emonael gently, looking on it with an expression of relief. “One left . . .”

  Taking the book, Emonael hesitated for a moment before speaking. “Of course, Teacher. I’ll start on the copies tomorrow, I promise. But you’re looking a little out of sorts, Teacher. Please, take a break? Not a long one, just . . . set your writing aside and come to dinner with the rest of us to relax?”