Millennial Mage

Tala had no trouble finding the guard’s severed arm, nor the shield to which it was strapped.

It lay near the center of a circle of crystalline grass and dust. This is here, because of me… He lost his arm, because of me.

That was silly, of course; he was only still alive because she’d cut his arm free.

He had to tell me to.

Even so, she’d saved his life.

She grimaced, shaking off the notion, and examining the area. The magics only affected living matter.

The guard’s shield, though made of wood, must have been too far from its time as part of a tree to qualify, because it simply had geological growths across most of its surface. The underlying material seemed mostly intact. Except the gaping holes that those birds punched through…

There had been a terrifying amount of power in those little creatures.

Tala grabbed the shield up and turned back, jogging after the retreating wagons.

She ran her free hand through it, feeling crystals and shorn ends. She shuddered again. That was really close. She pulled out her comb, and experimentally ran it through her jagged hair. It worked as she’d hoped, pulling the crystal out like it usually did to water. True, in some places that meant tearing the hair, but that was ok.

A moment later, her hair was clear of the magically grown material and she activated some of the scripts on her scalp, causing her hair to return to the proper length. There. That bit of vanity handled, she took a moment to examine herself and her grisly burden.

Tala, herself, was fine. She’d dismissed all of her void-channels save the one to her body, once her leathers were topped off.

Kit.

She stuck her hand into the belt-pouch and created a second void-channel to feed it. The dimensional storage guzzled power.

Almost empty? As Tala thought about it, that made sense. Kit likely had to shift itself out of the way of quite a few attacks. She once again was grateful that she’d chosen a storage item with some self-preservation built in. That’s right, Tala. Never forget that self-preservation is key.

She pushed away the reminder of Mistress Odera’s words. I’m not afraid to live. Now was hardly the time for such thoughts.

Kit refilled, Tala looked at the shield and now mineralized limb. Every part of it was restructured. How can that even happen? It should have taken much more power than could have been imparted by such a small creature, or in such a brief time.

Multiple strikes? There had been several, obviously, but no, that wasn’t the cause. She’d seen the magics feeding on the guard’s internal power, that which was coming from his own gate.

What would have happened if it had reached that gate, his soul?

She had no way of knowing, and if she was being honest, she wasn’t sure she wanted to know.

I hope Terry came through alright. She had no reason to expect otherwise, but it was still worth checking. “Terry?” She called out loudly enough for her voice to carry, without the utterance being a true shout.

Terry flickered into being beside her. He was as tall as a horse, and he stared at the shield with obvious interest.

“No, Terry. This isn’t for eating.”

He shook himself.

“Not what you were thinking?”

More shaking.

“Curious about the magics?”

He bobbed.

“Yeah, me too. I’ll let you know what Mistress Odera finds out if you aren’t around to hear it.”

He glanced at her, then, quick as a blink, he was on her shoulder, smaller than most cats. He head-bumped her cheek before curling up.

“Thank you, Terry. I’m glad you’re safe, too.”

* * *

The last hour of the day’s traveling passed without further incident.

Mistress Odera didn’t have the ability to regrow the guard’s arm, but she was able to treat, preserve, and prep the stump for the regeneration of that limb once they reached Makinaven. The other guards had already arranged to fulfill the man’s duties until then; having the ‘extra’ guards on this route made that a trivial thing.

I hope the need isn’t a herald of things to come…

The crystal remaining after the tiny birds’ magic completed its working was just mundane crystal, similar to that found within a geode, at least that’s what Mistress Odera told Tala.

Once the injured guard’s health was assured, a large contingent of off-duty guards did a quick, wide-ranging sweep to gather the bolts that had been fired at the crystal birds, so they could be used later.

Mistress Odera had a tablet, and she’d used it to advise the Caravanner’s Guild, at large, of the possibility of a new fount in the region.

The Mage was very glad that she didn’t have to inform Tala or Rane about the founts. She let them know that, in all likelihood, a high-level Archon would be sent to investigate at some point, soon. At worst, caravans would have to be directed wide of the area for a time, adding significantly to the already uncertain route.

Tala, for her part, spent most of the hour alone, atop the cargo-wagon, keeping an even closer eye on their surroundings.

When they finally stopped, Tala was introduced to a new horror.

Instead of being able to relax through dinner and the evening, she was required to increase her vigilance, as every passenger was allowed out of their cargo-slot to get some fresh air and stretch their legs, while the last of dinner was prepared and served.

Unlike previous caravans, there was no wagon circle to provide even the illusion of separation from the wilds, nor to corral passengers, when they were prone to wander.

The two wagons were spaced to create a somewhat distinct space, and a few tables were set up there, keeping the people mostly contained. The only saving grace was that it was fairly cold out in the open, and the lightly falling snow added to that incentive for quick retreats, back into the safety and warmth of the wagon.

She only had to shepherd two passengers back, when they walked too far out. It gave her a new view on the headache she must have caused the guards in her previous venture.

Finally, every passenger was back in their cargo-slot for the night, and Tala had finally gotten her dinner. Again, it was a much larger portion than anyone else had been given.

Bless you, Brand. Thank you for taking care of me, even when you aren’t here. Maybe, when she was filthy rich, she should hire him as her personal chef… Lissa could be a good assistant, too.

Tala took her time, finishing her third, miniature chicken pot pie. The hot food allowed her to relax just a bit more as she kept her gaze moving over their surroundings. What a day. I’ll need to thank the head cook for this, too.

“You know: You humans are so…fragile.”

Tala whipped around, staring at the figure standing on the other end of the wagon top.

What caught her attention at first, aside from someone suddenly appearing behind her in the wilds, was that his eyes were blood.

No comparison held the weight of truth, save to say that his eyes were spheres of fresh, liquid blood, unbroken save small circular scabs in place of pupils.

Meeting that gaze, she felt frozen to the spot.

Around his eyes, true-black, smooth skin forced the orbs into stark contrast, making their deep shades seem almost to glow. Subtle hints of grey lines ran under that skin in patterns very like spell-lines but somehow utterly different, like seeing her own language written with phonetic alphabet. The concepts seemed familiar, while remaining utterly opaque to her interpretation.

Why does he look familiar? Her mage-sight was screaming at her, and she finally registered what it was saying. He doesn’t have a gate.

Instead, he was drawing in power from the surrounding air and burning it within himself. The ratios were incredibly off kilter. He was using massively more than he could draw in from the relatively magic-poor air.

“I saw your beacon of power. Thank you for that. I’d have hated to miss your departure.” He smiled, his perfectly white teeth flashing in the fading light. “I love your eyes, by the way. You definitely lived up to the potential I saw in you.” He shook his head and clucked his tongue, once. “That said, I must admit, I misjudged you.” His voice had a strange resonance, a clarity like a trumpet sounding on a frozen winter’s morning.

“Do I know you?”

He laughed lightly, a sound like a steep mountain stream, splattered in flesh and burbling with blood.

How can someone even make that sound?

“We met, briefly.” He gave a half-smile. “I’d thought you would be reckless enough to profit me.” He glanced away, seeming to be trying to catch sight of something in the distance, to the north.

“You think I’m not reckless enough?” That thought broke through the odd, strange horror of the situation.

He refocused on her. “Hmm? No. You are, if anything, more reckless than I’d thought, but for some reason, you aren’t reckless on things that matter.”

“I’m…sorry?” She definitely felt the overwhelming desire to apologize properly, to abase herself, but resisted. I should be sorry for inconveniencing this creature. Why am I resisting?

He waved dismissively. “I’m just trying to decide if it would be worth breaking the bond between your body and soul.”

Tala instantly had Flow in her hand, three void-channels holding it strongly in the form of a sword. “You will not.” She was utterly certain of that.

Does the bond really matter? What was happening to her thoughts?

The light of day was fading quickly, but at that moment, sunlight stabbed through distant clouds to brightly illuminate those directly overhead, bathing the two figures, standing atop the cargo wagon, in reflected light. In that new illumiation, the silver-ine lines on the being’s skin came into greater view. He was frowning. “Oh, don’t be tiresome. Your only task here is to let me pick your brain, to answer my questions so I can make a properly informed decision.” He leaned forward just slightly, looking her up and down, slowly. “That is a fascinating Way, you’re using, there. It looks like it lacerated your soul as you learned it.” He laughed again, and Tala found her grip weakening. “Some scars can be useful, I suppose.”

Why would I want to hurt such a being? She shook her head, detecting the subtle pressure on her mind. How? The scripts around her eyes were guzzling power, trying to keep something out, and they were failing. Wait, why hasn’t anyone else noticed him?

She tore her eyes away and looked around. She was horrified to see that every creature in sight was frozen in place, whether human, ox, horse, or Terry. By their slight swaying and blank expressions, it appeared that they were somehow being subdued in a nonsensical state rather than physically restrained by some means.

Tala closed her eyes, then, and felt her thoughts clear. He was getting in through my eyes. Were her palms going to be an issue? She desperately hoped not, and clenched her hands into tighter fists, Flow firmly locked in her right hand.

“What is this? You are thinking on your own volition?” Light steps sounded as the being approached.

Tala struck out blindly with Flow and heard a sharp, hissing intake of breath.

“How can you attack me?”

Tala dropped into a defensive stance, bracing herself as well as she could for attacks from an unknown direction.

“You dare? I gave you the form you need, the path to power, the path to become useful, and you take it for yourself, for your own use. I come to talk, and you choose violence?”

Her head snapped to the side as she was struck with a blow that would have felled one of the caravan’s oxen.

Tala rolled with the hit, moving the bare minimum to orient on her attacker, sweeping Flow in a covering circle to cut at whatever had hit her.

“No. You are different than before. You have done things to yourself. Yours is not a useful insanity. This cannot be allowed.” There was a finality to the statement.

Tala didn’t even register the hit, before she was airborne.

As expected, she came down faster than anything on this world had any right to, and she skipped across the plains, her body digging furrows in the soil with each skipping impact. Her ending-berry power was running dangerously low.

She almost smiled as she was reminded of her ‘fight’ with the cyclops. But Grediv wasn’t here to take advantage of the distraction she provided this time. She was on her own.

I can’t fight like this. I have to risk it. Her eyes snapped open, and she oriented herself, vaulting back to her feet, spinning in a circle until she saw the caravan in the near distance, a figure standing on the cargo wagon’s top.

He was more of a beacon than Tala had been with all her void-channels dumping power outward.

The aura underlying the power was a deep, green-blue.

Rust me to slag. How had she not noticed that earlier?

With each passing moment, however, the aura was shifting more towards green.

He’s losing power by the second.I just need to outlast him. She didn’t need her eyes open to do that. Before she could close her eyes, however, the option was taken from her.

Without any appearance of movement, the figure was before her once more, hands on either side of her head.

“It seems that you would take much too much power to kill, or more time than I have. Even so, I cannot leave you with memory of this.”

The scripts around her eyes were overwhelmed in an instant, pushed aside rather than burned away, and try as she might, she couldn’t overcome the compulsion that prevented her from closing her eyes, not even to blink.

His face filled her vision.

“Interesting use of iron. So, that’s how you were able to move so freely.” The sides of her head blazed with heat for a brief moment, before iron dust showered down on her shoulders.

The being briefly flicked each hand away then back to her head, clearing the limb of rust. Then, there was a renewed pulse of power.

Tala felt something try to invade her brain, but her very being rose up against the assault. She used every scrap of strength she could draw upon, barely managing to shelter her mind: a pebble before a hurricane.

Even so, the edges of her mind weren’t set, yet. Her mage-sight, coupled with her mental scripts, allowed her to watch, helpless, as her short-term memory was shredded into-

Why am I panicking? What was that daydream, again? Tala tried to shake off the lingering vestiges of an overactive imagination, but found her head locked in place, blood filling her vision. Not a figment? Brief shreds of memory came floating back. It was real?! It-

Power washed through her mind, and her eyes closed of their own volition.

There was an odd grunt, and something that was clearly a curse in a language she didn’t know. A voice she’d never heard before muttered under their breath. “How heavy are you?”

Her mind was hit, once more, and her thoughts-

There was a pulse of power, quickly fading into the distance, and Tala’s eyes snapped open.

She was laying on the ground, staring up at falling snow and clouds, which were just losing the last light of day.

Where am I?

“Mistress Tala?” Mistress Odera was calling her.

Tala jumped up to her feet, looking around. Why am I so far from the caravan?

Mistress Odera was standing near the cargo-wagon, looking up at its top, calling out. “Mistress Tala!”

Tala began to jog the couple of hundred yards back to the wagon.

On the way back, she wove around the deep, irregularly spaced furrows in the earth. What happened?

She examined within herself and found the bulk of her expected ending-berry power was absent; only the barest vestiges remained. When did I use that up?

She called out to Mistress Odera, and the other Mage turned towards her, irritation plain on the older woman’s face. Even so, she remained silent, until Tala stopped beside her. “Why did you leave your post, Mistress?”

“I…I don’t think I did.”

Mistress Odera paused at that, seeming to understand a depth behind Tala’s words. “What do you mean?”

Tala looked over her shoulder. “There is evidence that something sent me flying from the wagon-top. Some of my defenses are drastically drained, and the earth is churned in a line from the cargo-wagon to where I was lying.”

Mistress Odera’s hands flicked out, and a bubble of power quickly built before fully encapsulating the caravan’s campsite. Her shield. “What did this?”

“I don’t know, and I didn’t lose consciousness. I have inscriptions to correct that, and they always notify me when they do. I believe I felt a power fading, retreating before I came to awareness…”

Mistress Odera’s eyes were moving across their surroundings. “There are the faintest, lingering traces of something with power, here.” Her face snapped towards Tala. “What happened to your protection, child?”

Tala frowned as Terry appeared on her shoulder, crooning lightly. “What do you mean?”

“Your iron is gone from your head.”

Tala swallowed reflexively, feeling her face with her off hand. That’s not good.

Terry bumped her cheek with the top of his head.

“No, Terry, I don’t know what’s going on…” She had the lingering impression of blood. “I’m not bleeding, am I?” She examined herself, and Mistress Odera gave her a once over as well.

“No, you are perfectly healthy.”

The two of them climbed back to the top of the cargo-wagon, and after another sweep of their surroundings, Mistress Odera let her shield fall. Tala, for her part, had pulled out an iron-salve bar and was desperately working the substance in, all over her head. I can’t stay defenseless.

The older woman sat heavily. “Something happened, of that much I am certain, but I cannot determine what. I can see everyone who’s supposed to be out here, but we should check the passengers against the manifests.”

“What’s going on?” She’d done a hasty job of her reapplication, but it would have to be good enough, for now.

“I wish I knew, Mistress. We’ve been losing caravans a bit more regularly around Bandfast, in the last half year or so.”

“More regularly?”

“Closer to one in a hundred, as opposed to one in a thousand. Though some of that is extrapolation.”

“That’s…a big difference.”

Mistress Odera barked a mirthless laugh. “Yes. Yes, it is.”

Tala nodded to herself. “I’ll check in with each exposed cargo-slot.”

“Send Master Rane to me, when you can. I’d like to pick his brain.”

Something about that made Tala twitch, but she dismissed the feeling. “Yes, Mistress.”

Mistress Odera gave her a long look. “Whatever happened, I am glad that you survived. We might just be able to fill in some gaps in our knowledge because of it.”

Tala almost told her about the script at the base of her own neck, which would have recorded a lot of what transpired, for Holly’s use, but something made Tala think that voicing anything about its existence would be a mistake. Instead, Tala simply gave Mistress Odera a respectful bow and dropped off the side of the wagon, Terry clinging to her shoulder as she fell.

All I wanted was a calm, uneventful evening. She shook her head. Now was not the time for weakness; she had work to do.

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