The Jade Mage: The Becoming: Volume 1 (17 page)

He was amazing with his staff, and the martial dance he wove was breathtaking. Isidor couldn’t keep up with the movements, so he opened himself to the magic in order to heighten his senses so that he could. What he saw impressed him even more.

Tartum was channeling magic into himself, just as Isidor had. He used the raw magic to heighten his own senses and reflexes, the results of which made him much better than Isidor had ever been with the staff. As he watched his pupil go through his motions, tears sprang to his eyes. It occured to him that this was one of the last moments he would share with the boy he had raised to manhood. He was about to abandon his most precious possession to an uncaring world, and he knew it would probably mean he would never see him again. There would be no happy reunions, no visits, no weddings, or grandchildren to spoil. Isidor watched his pupil finish his exercise and go over to the lake to wash up. Apparently, the habit of obeying him was not as deeply instilled as he thought. Just one more sign to Isidor that their time together was at an end.

Taking another drink from his waterskin, Isidor got up and went inside the wagon to weep.

...

They had been traveling for almost a month, and things between Tartum and Isidor were civil at best. Isidor had spent much of the time in silence, only speaking to let Tartum know what lore he knew about the sights and landmarks they passed. He described the local flora and fauna to Tartum as they encountered it. Tartum saw a herd of large hairy animals at one point and almost shook Isidor out of his seat in his astonishment. Pointing at the animals, Isidor almost doubled over in his seat with laughter. The animals heard his laughter and looked up. They looked rather stupid, and absently resumed their chewing on the dead trees that seemed to be their food source.

When Isidor could talk again, he explained that the animals were called Nissassa. An adult was usually around twenty feet long and close to six hundred pounds. They were the dominate scavengers of the world and fed on dead or dying plants and animals. Their heads were huge, easily making up half their body weight and about a third of their shaggy bodies. Their mouth was set low, and they used the weight of the top of their heads to help chew and crush whatever it was in their mouths. They could easily bite through a petrified tree in one mighty chomp, or chew through plate mail with ease. They didn’t have teeth like most animals did. Instead, one long row of serated emamel ran along their upper and lower jaw lines. Nature had designed them to clean up the decay of the wilderness, and they did this job very well. They had no arms or legs, but slithered around their environment like a snake. Their only apparent defense, other than their huge mouths, was their immensely thick hide. Isidor said that nissassa hide was used to make the fabric necessary for traveling blankets and other crude but highly durable fabrics. They moved surprisingly fast for their size, but Tartum still considered them slow, both in mobility and in mind. Isidor confirmed this observation, saying that at best, a Nissassa could move about as fast as a man could jog. They had few natural predators, however and thrived in the world.

None of this explained why Isidor started laughing so hard when he first pointed them out. When asked, Isidor only smiled and stopped the wagon fifty yards from the beasts. As they watched the shaggy animals devour the decaying foliage, Tartum noticed one of the animals developing a bulge in the center of its body. He pointed it out to Isidor, who smiled and pulled his shirt over his nose and mouth and told Tartum to just wait. Confused at his mentor’s odd behavior, Tartum watched as the bulge got bigger and bigger. Slowly, it made its way towards the back end of the beast’s body. When it was about a foot from the end, the bulge disappeared into the animal’s body, and a hissing sound eminated from it.

The sound that came from the creature closely resembled its name. A faint green cloud rose up from it, and before Tartum could form his question about what the hells was happening, he was floored by one of the worst scents he had ever smelled in his life.

“Oh by the Gods, that’s revolting!” he said, throwing his shirt over his nose and mouth as Isidor had done. “That’s the most disgusting creature I’ve ever seen. How is it so
FOUL
!?”

Isidor’s laughter at Tartum’s discomfort echoed throughout the landscape as he whipped the horses into a trot to get them out of the area fast. Tartum was gagging, and his eyes were watering. He was trying hard not to lose his breakfast over the smell, but it was difficult. He didn’t think he would ever be able to eat anything again.

“Ugh! That was terrible. How does such a creature exist! Why does it smell THAT bad!?” Tartum asked, when he felt himself capable of talking again.

Smiling at Tartum, Isidor got himself under control and answered, “Well what did you expect to come out of the most efficient scavenger in the world? That was pure methane gas, my boy. If you can believe it, some people have tried to harvest it for its flammable properties. Just goes to show you the Gods have a sense of humor, doesn’t it?” Clasping Tartum’s shoulder, they both laughed.

Despite everything that had occured, it felt good to the both of them to share a light hearted moment. Tartum began to feel like things might be getting back to normal. Although he had no idea why his friend had been so distant since they escaped Zerous, he felt that he was slowly beginning to act like his old self again. Ignoring the thought, he lost himself in the joy of the moment. He was all too glad to put as much distance between them and the Nissassa as fast as possible.

...

It had been almost a month and a half of constant traveling and discovery since their flight from Zerous. Tartum had learned alot about the world, or so he thought, and ever since the nissassa incident, Isidor had been acting normal again, with the exception of his lessons in magic. Isidor didn’t flat out refuse to teach him but would change the subject or point out something in the area that would give Tartum the impression he wasn’t in the mood to discuss the topic. The snubbing of his magic was beginning to irritate him, but he didn’t want his friend to go back to brooding like he had been when they started their journey. He decided to leave the subject alone for now. Besides, he could still study on his own, and he was no stranger to teaching himself.

It was midmorning when Tartum caught his first glimpse of Saroth. Just over the horizon, he saw what he thought was a flag. He couldn’t make out the design that was emblazoned on it, but he could see it was a bold blue, rimmed in yellow or gold. He was squinting to see when they reached the summit of the hill and the full magnificence of Saroth was laid out before him.

The forest fell away to an open field, three hundred yards from the walls of the city. There was no shelter or shade in the fields surrounding the city, which made it look all the more grand. Thirty foot solid, white, stone walls surrounded Saroth. They extended for miles from the large, black steel gate that served as the only entrance and exit to the city. A line of wagons and people swarmed around the gate, waiting their turn to be allowed entrance to the city. Tartum counted over sixty towers extending from the walls, every twenty feet or so, before losing count. It was an amazing sight to see such foritifications. Zerous had used a wooden fence and the surrounding forest to protect its borders. They had never been attacked as far as Tartum could remember. This city looked like it was not only ready for an attack, but had weathered many before. The guards that walked at the top of the walls looked alert. They kept their crossbows close and watched the people coming through the gates with a scrutinizing eye. More than once, a guard pointed at a person waiting for entry, and the guards would move to arrest them. No one tried to resist them, and the people they pulled from the masses weren’t missed. One less person in line meant less waiting for the others shuffling through the gate.

After an hour, Isidor pulled the wagon up to the gate enterance. The guard took one look at the wagon and began his questioning.

“What is your purpose in Saroth?” the guard asked.

“We’re here to restock our supplies and perform a few shows. I’m Isidor the Magician, master of magic! Maybe you’ve heard of me?” Isidor responded.

“Never heard of you.” The guard grunted, writing something down. “The market is in the center of the city. Look for the square. Move along, Trevor.”

“It’s Isidor! Isidor the Magician!” he said indignantly. All the fame he had aquired in Zerous had clearly not followed him to Saroth. Isidor wasn’t used to being brushed off.

“I don’t care what your name is, old man! Move along!” The guard barked. Isidor got the wagon moving again with a huff.

“The nerve of that guy! If I see him at my show, I’ll have one of my pidgeons shit on him. Unbelievable, his lack of respect! He called me Trevor...
Trevor
!” Isidor ranted. Tartum chuckled at Isidor’s wounded pride. It was rare to see him so off balance. Tartum was enjoying his tantrum.

If the outside of the city had been impressive, the inside was unbelievable. More people than Tartum could count crowded the city streets and made getting the wagon through almost impossible. Never had Tartum seen so many people gathered in one area. Any semblance of order was dissolved by the sheer mass of humanity surging through the city. Vendors were screaming their wares to be heard over the noise of the crowd, and as people would gather around to see what they were selling, another vendor would run over promising better goods at cheaper prices. This would, in turn, cause an argument between the vendors that usually ended up in one knocking out the other, or the guards coming and arresting both. How commerce was accomplished on the streets of Saroth was beyond Tartum’s comprehension, but he assumed, judging by the amount of vendors lining the street, that there must be a profit to be made regardless of the danger.

Isidor guided the wagon through the throng and into the center of the city. He found an empty lot to park the wagon in and shooed the squatters out of the way. The throng of people looking to buy and sell their wares and services were alot more organized in this square, mostly due to the sophistication of the clientele, and the generous population of guards and hired muscle watching over the people. If someone got out of hand, started an argument, or acted in an undesirable manner, it was just a matter of whether the guards or the muscle would get to them first, to knock some manners into them. Tartum enjoyed watching the fiasco when he felt someone pulling at his arm.

When he looked down, he saw a grubby little girl smiling up at him. She held up a dandelion for him to take. Tartum was confused. Who was this girl? Where were her parents? Why, out of the hundreds of people around was she offering him this weed? Not wanting to be rude to the child, Tartum took the dandelion and thanked her. She simply laughed and ran off, instantly disappearing into the crowd. When he looked up, Isidor was just finishing bedding down the horses and locking down the wagon. He was laughing at him.

“What are you laughing at, old man!?” Tartum yelled, to be heard over the crowd.

“Look at your belt.” was all Isidor offered in response.

Tartum looked down as Isidor had suggested. He saw that his coin purse was missing! Looking up, he tried to find the girl that gave him the flower. There was no sign that she had ever existed in the throng of people that were mulling around him. Tartum became enraged! How dare the child steal from him! Tartum opened himself to the magic. He would make someone pay for making a fool out of him. Pulling a handful of rose petals from his pouch, he raised his hand above his head and began to chant the words to his spell. Suddenly, Tartum was face down on the street. His head was fuzzy, and he was having trouble thinking. Isidor was helping him to his feet roughly and saying something harsh. Tartum couldn’t understand him. His entire head was ringing.

“Next time you say thank you to the lady! Damnit son, I raised you better than that!” Isidor yelled at him.

Isidor had cracked Tartum upside his head with his staff when he saw what he was about to do. He couldnt allow Tartum to kill people just because he was too stupid to realize he was being set up. No matter how powerful with magic he was, there were too many guards. He may have taken down a few, but he would have been brought down and killed eventually. Isidor didn’t want either of those events to occur. Cracking Tartum upside his head not only solved this dilemma, but it had felt
very
good. Tartum needed some tempering. A guard saw Isidor bludgeon Tartum and was approaching to inquire about what was going on. Isidor had seen him coming and began his tirade to try and throw off the guard. He didn’t want anyone to know what Tartum had been about to do!

“What’s going on here! Why did you strike this man?” the guard demanded to know.

“Bah! My idiot, good for nothing son here, bought a flower from that little girl and didn’t say thank you! I’ll be cold in the ground before I’ll allow that kind of rudeness to come from one born of my loins!” Isidor said, loudly.

The guard seemed a little annoyed by this, but decided it was beneath him to investigate much further.

“You there! You ok? Is this man your father?” The guard asked Tartum.

“Hmm? Yea...Isidor...Father...Ugh!” Tartum said, barely able to think over his aching head.

“Get some ice on his head, old man. You clunked him pretty hard. You mind your father from now on boy!” The guard said. Finished with them, he walked back to his post. Isidor took Tartum over to the wagon and brought him inside. Setting him down in his bed, he went to make some of the headache medicine he used to make when they were still sparring.