The Jade Mage: The Becoming: Volume 1 (53 page)

Upon hearing his name, Rashlarr said a word of command, and no sooner were the words out of his mouth, than a doorway appeared right in front of where Tartum was standing. If he didn’t know that the wall was new and the doorway hadn’t been there a moment ago, he would have thought it had been there forever. Shaking his head Tartum looked back at Elizabeth and shot her a wink.

She stood there, unmoving, and made no effort to respond. In her eyes, Tartum saw fear, love, and nervousness all at once. Seeing her like that put him on edge; she was tough as nails, usually.
Didn’t she threaten to cut Jeth’s throat just a little while ago? Now she’s standing in there terrified I’m going to get killed by something in here
. Tartum thought to himself.

Turning his back on her, Tartum walked through the doorway. His nerves were frayed, and his senses were peaked. Whatever was making Elizabeth so nervous was in here somewhere, and Tartum vowed to himself he wouldn’t break his promise to her, not this day.

...

As he stepped through the doorway, he could see nothing but darkness. He thought about using his staff to light the way, but just as he was about to the lights came on and he could see. He was in Saroth; or at the very least a black and white interpretation of Saroth. Looking behind him he saw a closed wooden door that led into a cottage. He tried to open the door to see if he could get back out and just as he expected it was locked tight. Taking a deep breath, he reminded himself why he was here. He had no idea where he was supposed to go so he took a moment to familiarize himself with his surroundings.

He was on some nameless street in this pseudo Saroth. There were buildings all around him that stretched all the way up...to nothing. There was no sky and no stars. This black and white world was lit but only dimly so; like a perpetual twilight. Tartum assumed the buildings were just more of the magic walls Rashlarr made in order to give the appearance of a real mission. It was also completely silent; even at night in the real world there were the sounds of late night drinking or water running, or animals scavenging. In this world, however, the only sound Tartum could hear was his own breathing. There were three streets that led away from the door way he had entered. One led east, one west, and one directly away from the door he came through to the north. He couldn’t see anything but darkness down all three streets. He assumed that was the point and was left pondering how he should decide which path to take. As he debated, he couldn’t help but be impressed with the extensive level of detail that went into this spell.

“Not bad, Rashlarr.” Tartum said to himself. He wondered if his friends could hear him as well as see him.

Sounds of movement from the east road caught his attention. It was a chaotic sound of scratching claws against stone and snapping jaws. Whatever was making the sound, there was more than one, and they were growling. Tartum thought the sound was familiar and reached into his pouches for a copper rod. Pressing himself against the wall furthest away from the east street, Tartum began casting his spell,
“Yuik-rena toem-urthma!”
The copper rod burst into the familiar crackling energy, and Tartum waited for the sounds to get closer. It didn’t take long for two stingers to burst from the darkness; they had both been painted red and seemed to be sniffing the air, trying to locate something.

Or someone
. Tartum corrected himself.

The stingers had emerged from the darkness right next to each other, which suited Tartum just fine. With a grin Tartum spoke the word of command,
“Za-Tan!”
and the lightning bolt destroyed both creatures before they had a chance to notice him. As his eyes readjusted to the dim light of this false world, Tartum noticed that the east road had been lit up. It was a long road that stretched about fifty yards, before cutting sharply to the right. Seeing that the other two roads were still dark, Tartum decided to take the hint and follow the road east. It seemed to be the best option.

He walked down the road as quietly as he could. The silence of this world made everything he did echo, and now that he knew the enemies he would face were living, he preferred not to alert anyone to his presence. He peaked around the corner where the road cut right. The street was completely walled in by pseudo buildings, which gave Tartum a slight case of claustrophobia. The road way looked clear and seemed to only go another ten yards, before it dropped off where he couldn’t see anything. The road seemed to open up into a larger area, so Tartum slinked his way down the remaining distance.

As he came up to the end of the road, he was shocked by what he saw. He was looking out a window of a tower attached to a castle. Looking behind him, Tartum saw the road had disappeared, and he was stuck inside this small room with only the window offering a way in or out.

“Not bad at all, Rashlarr!” Tartum said again. He really was impressed by this magic; he made a mental note to have Rashlarr show him how to do this once he finished his test.

He looked out the window and saw he was at least thirty feet above the ground, he took this to be a sign he wasn’t supposed to exit from this window. Below him, he could see a small courtyard. It was square in shape, with towers similar to his in each corner. Only one of the towers had a window in it, but it looked empty, and he couldn’t see anyone inside. The courtyard itself was all stone, with large bales of black and white hay stacked up in the corners. Tartum thought if he could get down there, those bales of hay would provide good cover. Circling the courtyard was a wall about eight feet tall and wide enough to provide a walkway for sentries. Unfortunately, the walkway portion was roofed, and Tartum couldn’t see if there was anyone patrolling the area. He figured it was safe to assume there would be.

In the middle of the courtyard there was a throne of stone and sitting in that throne was a man in a blue shirt. He was wearing a blue crown and long, flowing blue robes. Tartum didn’t think they could make it any more obvious whom it was he was supposed to capture. It was the blatant obviousness of it all that made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. These tests were nothing, if not twisted, so Tartum looked around the courtyard once more, seeking hidden dangers.

The blue robed man was very tense, almost to the point of panic. Tartum could see him shaking, and his hands were gripping the armrests of his throne so tightly his knuckles were white. Movement caught his attention and Tartum counted four men with red shirts hiding behind the far stacks of hay. Upon closer inspection, there were about fifteen men that he could see in red shirts hiding in and around the hay bales. They were equipped with crossbows, swords, and chainmail, as far as Tartum could tell. They were garbed to look like guards, but the look of fear in their eyes and the thinness of their frames gave Tartum the impression they were anything but.

“So that’s your game, is it?” Tartum said to himself. He still didn’t know if his friends could hear, but it helped him feel in control to talk out loud to himself, so he did it. At least fifteen guards laying in ambush for him, all armed with short and long range weapons, possibly more guards on the walkway or in that far window. He couldn’t simply destroy everything down there with a gigantic fireball, because he’d kill the blue shirt he was supposed to capture. And to add to all of that, he had no idea how he was going to get out of this room he was stuck in. As he finished his analysis of his situation, a dim glow came from behind him. Looking back, Tartum saw a trap door that wasn’t there before.

“Nice, Rashlarr.” Tartum said.

Opening the trap door, Tartum saw a spiraling staircase that led, he assumed, all the way down to the ground floor. Now with a way out, he had an idea. Reaching into his pouch of ash Tartum opened himself up to the magic. Taking a handful of ash he infused it with his magic and began casting his darkness spell,
“Krekat-sijuwith!”
he said as he threw the ash out the window. A large misshapen orb of perfect darkness formed five feet away from the window and a few feet below. It obstructed enough of his view that he could only see one corner of the courtyard and the hay where the guards laid in wait and the head of the blue shirted man. Grabbing a sapphire Tartum quickly cast his dome spell, only this time he targeted the blue shirted man.

“Esotlie bon-bon-ytei. Duun-fwalyte katai romo-wei. Tun-turu vet-jerwat lei!”
he spoke and the green dome of protection shot down and enveloped the blue shirted man. The magic must have scared him because he shouted, and from what little Tartum could see, there was movement in the courtyard.

“Well, they know I’m here now.” He said to himself.

Grabbing a bit of sulfur, Tartum began casting his fireball spell,
“Doctay-von-we!”
he spoke as the sulfur came alive in his hand and formed into a green flame the size of a melon. He couldn’t decide which blur of movement to target, so instead, he chose to blast the bales of hay they were hiding behind.

“Beath!”
he called out, and the fireball flew through his darkness spell and into the bale he was focused on. It erupted in flames, and the courtyard was bathed in green light. Tartum surveyed his handiwork; it looked like there were a few more men hiding in the hay that Tartum didn’t see before. Not that it mattered for those caught in the blast; they were running around covered in green flame that burned through them faster than any natural fire would have. Some of the men that weren’t caught in the blast were trying to put the flames out, succeeding in only catching themselves on fire in the process. Tartum saw that a few of them were running dangerously close to the blue shirted man and decided it was too much of a risk to allow the fire to continue burning.

“Uush!”
He commanded and the fires went out. The men that had been on fire fell to the ground a charred mess. The hay went out, and the men that Tartum could still see were standing around stupefied at what they had just witnessed. Some were cursing loudly, one was yelling for him to show himself and fight like a man, a few were crying. Tartum was happy with the way this was playing out, when something zipped past his head as he was slammed into the wall behind him. Momentarily dazed by the sudden movement and pain, Tartum felt something choking him. Reaching up to his neck, he felt nothing there and realized it was the collar of his cloak that was biting into his neck. He looked up and saw a crossbow bolt sticking through the hood of his cloak and staking him to the wall. Reaching up, he yanked the bolt out and fell to the ground just as another bolt sunk into the wall where his chest had just been.

Tartum looked at the second bolt and knew from the angle it hit the wall, that the shooter was in the other tower with a window. Cursing himself a fool for forgetting about that damned window, Tartum drew out a copper rod,
“Yuik-rena toem-urthma!”
he said; his anger was beginning to surface. He knew he had killed some of the men in the courtyard, and he knew that the man that shot the bolts at him was just trying to survive, but none of that mattered. The son of a bitch had shot at him,
twice
, and he was going to pay.

Peaking his head out, his window he saw the courtyard was still a mess of smoke and bodies. His darkness spell had dissipated and his view was now unobstructed. He saw that a lot of the red shirted men were out from cover and surrounding the blue shirted man. They were looking all around the courtyard trying to find him, and Tartum knew it was just a matter of time before they figured out he was in the window. The blue shirted man was still sitting in his throne, but it looked like he was trying to get up. Something he couldn’t see was restraining him and stopped him from escaping. Tartum squinted to see if he was magically or mundanely restrained when another bolt shot past his head. He looked up at the window across the yard and saw a red shirted man reloading his crossbow. He was a very fat man, and Tartum couldn’t believe he didn’t see him the first time he saw the window. Targeting his assailant, Tartum gave the command,
“Za-tan!”
and the bolt of lightning flew through the air and shot into the window, obliterating the fat man and the room he was in. It was a good shot, but before Tartum had a chance to admire his skill, a volley of bolts shot into the ceiling above his head. One caught him under the chin and would have exited through his skull if it wasn’t for his dome spell. As it was, the momentum from the bolt snapped his head back and knocked him down. Tartum couldn’t help himself and started laughing. He knew he was going to hear about this from Elizabeth later on.

More crossbow bolts fired in through the window, but only sank into the ceiling harmlessly. Seeing that he wasn’t going to be able to do anything more from the window, Tartum picked himself up and took a few steps down the stairs. He quickly recast his dome spell when he was sure no lucky shot was going to catch him while he was vulnerable. Seeing his skin take on the reassuring jade green hue, Tartum picked out a few rose petals from his pouch and headed down the stairs. It was time for these fake guards to learn what happens when you shoot at Tartum Fuin!

As he walked down the stairs, he heard a crash and the sound of armored feet running up the stairs. Taking this as his queue, Tartum stopped and said the first verse to his fire orb spell as the released three petals from his hand, “
Moro-yet krat-tu-veyin doro-peth!”
he said and the petals turned into three small, white hot balls of flame. Tartum waited for the men to get closer; judging by all the racket they were making, it wouldn’t be long before he would be able to see them.