The Jade Mage: The Becoming: Volume 1 (41 page)

“STAY FOCUSED, DAMNIT!” Rashlarr yelled at him.

Rashlarr’s outburst startled him, and he saw the fireball beginning to unravel. Not wanting to fail, Tartum focused his considerable will on the orb and forced it back into shape. His anger fled him and was replaced by shame and embarrassment, due to his almost catastrophic mistake. Losing his focus to pat himself on the back, halfway through the casting was a rookie mistake and Tartum resolved not to do it again. Focused completely on the task at hand, Tartum made sure his now large green orb was stable and then looked up at the scorch marked wall, where Rashlarr’s fireball had stuck minutes before. An odd sense of the magic inside him flowing into the fireball and then splitting off from the fireball to the marks on the wall almost proved too much for Tartum. It felt like having one eye look to the left and the other straight up. Digging down deep inside himself, Tartum found the will to fight the panic of this unexpected sensation. He did not wish to fail and desperately wanted to get the spell off on his first try. Just as Tartum thought he might lose his hold on the magic and fail, his anger returned. There was no logical reasoning for it, but suddenly Tartum was mad. Not just mad, furious! The idea that the magic would try to fail him again after all he’d been through infuriated him, and he forced it, just like when he almost destroyed his staff on his light enchantment spell, to do his bidding. Tartum’s focus solidified, and his wavering hold on the magic became an iron fist of control. Looking at the scorched marked wall two hundred yards from him, Tartum bellowed the command.
“BEATH!”

The magic Tartum had been channeling into the fireball immediately cut away, and the fireball sped towards the spot Tartum was focused on. It crossed the distance in a matter of seconds and slammed into the wall, exactly on target. The explosion was incredible, bits of rock and stone were thrown everywhere and a few torches near the area of impact disintegrated. Green flames burned brightly all over the stone walls and floors and seemed to be growing stronger, even without anything fueling them. Rashlarr was shouting something and looked concerned. It took a moment for Tartum to regain enough composure to hear him properly. His temper always left him feeling weak and disoriented after forcefully casting a spell like that.

“
Uush
!
Uush
!
UUSH
! Damn it!” Rashlarr was saying. The flames were not responding and seemed to be getting larger and more out of control. As Tartum recovered more of his strength, he found himself wondering what it was that fed the flames. There was no wood or burnable material in the room, other than the torches. Last he checked, rock and stone weren’t flamable.

Looking over at Rashlarr, Tartum was about to voice his concern, when he saw a terrifying transformation overtake him. Rashlarr’s face was red and flustered, as he kept yelling the command that should have extingushed the flames. Suddenly, he looked like he heard something that was far way. He nodded, stood perfectly still, and closed his eyes. The change was almost instantaneous. His body writhed, and his face bent into an impossible angle. The features were almost feminine, but so alien Tartum couldn’t be sure. He was terrified, yet he couldn’t look away. Rashlarr’s body became lithe and bent in ways that were impossible. It was then Tartum heard Rashlarr speak. The sound was horrible and beautiful at the same time. The words that came out of his mouth, Tartum couldn’t fathom. The sounds were so foreign, he had trouble figuring out how he was making some of them. The best way to describe the sound was a combination of children laughing, rocks scraping together as they fell into a ravine, and wet meat ploping down on a table. The sound tore at his sanity, and Tartum fell to the ground clawing at his head. As much as he wanted the sound to stop, he found himself craving it at the same time. The dual desires did nothing to help his sanity. Just as he thought he could take no more, the sound stopped and he found himself both relieved and yet deeply dissapointed. He was becoming nauseous with all the conflicting sensations.

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.