Millennial Mage

Tala’s head was thrown back as she downed her fifth cup of coffee.

“That really isn’t healthy for you.”

Tala set down her mug, giving Mistress Odera a long look. “I was up ‘til after midnight.”

“Would you be drinking less, if you’d gone to bed earlier?”

Tala didn’t respond, instead simply refilling her mug as she munched on a few pieces of bacon. Out of the corner of her eye, Tala saw Terry flicker briefly, and the pile of sausages was a few links shorter. She grinned but didn’t address the mild thievery.

“I thought not.” Mistress Odera pushed her plate back, having just finished her own, small meal. “Now, how is your training progressing?”

Tala shook her head. “Nope.”

“No?”

“Nope. We talk about me every morning. It’s time you answer some questions about you.”

“So, why don’t you go teach for the academy? That’s where some Mages retire, right?”

She took a long breath, shaking her head. “Aside from the rudeness of the base assumptions in your question: The Academy is for those who fear death more than they love magic.”

“Care to explain?” Tala was using the opportunity to continue her breakfast.

“The island is a natural fountain of eternal youth.” Mistress Odera smiled. “Well, in a sense.”

Tala leaned forward, eating more bacon. “Wait, is the fountain of youth a fount?”

“Hmm? No, no. It's just often referred to as a fountain of water in the tales.”

“Ah, ok.”

“Now, the legends are actually due to that place. It prevents the degradation of living creatures. You can grow up, but nothing will move past maturity, not while there. It won’t reverse aging, however. That’s just a myth.”

“That sounds useful.”

“It is, it is.”

“So, what’s the catch?”

Mistress Odera nodded appreciatively. “It suffuses you. Eventually, if you stay long enough, you don’t even have to stay on the island to keep the stasis.”

Tala found herself nodding. “It imprints upon your magic.”

“Precisely, and conflicts with any inscriptions, slowly rendering them worthless.”

She frowned. “Then why put so many Mage initiates there? Wouldn’t that cripple their foundation?”

“No, it doesn’t act upon those who have not reached maturity. Your Magic cannot resonate with what does not act upon you.”

Tala grunted. “The teachers refused to explain, and even led me to believe they didn’t know what was going on.”

“It is a shameful thing,” Mistress Odera shook her head, “to fear death so completely that you would cripple yourself.”

“Aren’t they doing a noble thing? Giving up magic to teach?”

Mistress Odera snorted derisively. “Hardly. The Academy is just a convenient use of the fearful old codgers.”

Tala tilted her head in thought. “So, why not offer it to mundanes?”

“The magic draws on your gate, and it takes more power than a mundane has available.”

“So, it only works for Mages?”

“Worse.”

“How could it be worse?”

“What happens if you use more power than your gate can draw?”

“It pulls from my reserves.”

Mistress Odera nodded. “And when your reserves are emptied?”

“The spell-working ends?” Tala frowned. Right?

“Yes and no. What would happen if the spell-working was an inscription?”

“It would burn through the metal, exhausting it to give the working a few more moments of activity, leaving the Mage uninscribed.” Tala answered instantly and easily.

“Yes, so, what is the equivalent of the inscription in this case?”

“The island?”

Mistress Odera huffed a laugh. “Then, would it need a person’s power to function?”

“No…” Tala frowned, once again. “It’s enacted on their flesh…is that the answer?”

“In this case, yes.” She smiled. “The history behind the island is thus: Humanity negotiated for a source of eternal life. We are one of the shortest-lived races, after all, but we were deceived. The trade was magically locked, and our ‘partner’ was held to the letter of the trade, but that’s all. We were given a poison pill, useless to the point of detriment to mundanes and Mages alike, while still, technically, doing as promised.”

“What did we give up in trade?”

“That is lost to history, as far as I am aware.”

“Seems like this is something that should be taught.”

“Oh, you’ve heard of it.”

“I have?”

“Who is the primary antagonist in all tales of the fountain of youth, among others?”

Tala’s eyes widened. “The Arcane King.”

“Precisely.”

Tala sat back, thoughtfully eating a hash-brown patty. “Wow… rust that guy.”

Mistress Odera laughed loudly before covering her own mouth, drawing the eyes of some customers at the other end of the restaurant.

Tala smiled as she continued to eat.

“Truer words, Mistress.” Mistress Odera shrugged. “He did follow through on the entirety of the request: Humanity is safe there, from all outside threats. The gods and hostile arcanes are utterly incapable of setting foot on the island or affecting it in any way.” She smiled. “The protections are really quite ingenious, actually. From what I’ve been told they extend to maintaining the surrounding environment, so that even when the sun goes nova in a few billion years, that island will remain perfectly habitable. Assuming that humans still live there, I suppose.”

“That’s…quite something, actually.”

“There’s a reason people still seek the Arcane King, despite his known duplicity.”

Tala frowned. “Arcane King…” She scratched her chin, remembering what Xeel had told her of arcane power rankings. “He’s a Sovereign.”

“Yes? Kings are a type of sovereign.”

“No, I mean the arcane equivalent of a Transcendent.”

“Ahh. I suppose? I’ve not really given him too much thought.” She gave a sad smile. “Well, not since my grandchildren outgrew fairytales.”

Tala was frowning, considering. “Are there any human Transcendents?”

“That is a question that I honestly thought you’d ask weeks ago. Though it is a bit of a tangent, now.”

Tala grimaced. “Other things have been on my mind.”

“That’s fine, Mistress. I’ll ask a question in return.”

Tala sighed. “I should have expected.”

Mistress Odera grinned. “Are there any adult babies?”

“What? No? But there are babies who become adults.”

“Precisely. Those who transcend have transcended. They are more. They are not what they were.”

Tala rolled her eyes. “You know what I’m asking, Mistress. Are there any Transcendent who were human, then?”

“No.”

“No?”

“No.”

“I find that very hard to believe.”

Mistress Odera shrugged. “You don’t have to believe me.”

Tala sighed. “How can you be sure? Our society isn’t exactly big on sharing such secrets.”

“Because we are still at war.”

She frowned, leaning back. “Explain, please.”

“If a human transcended, they could either take us all away, making a new world and moving us there to ensure our safety, or they would try, and their equals would stop them. That would be…less than ideal for life on this planet.”

“Couldn’t you make the same argument that, since we are still at war, we have to have at least one transcendent keeping the others from obliterating us?”

Mistress Odera snorted. “If one of them wanted us dead, they’d kill us all.”

“The Arcane King?” Tala tried to think about all the stories she’d heard involving the creature.

“He enjoys messing with humans but doesn’t actively hate us.”

She considered. “The Hollow Queen?”

“She cares only for her own physicality. Isn’t she usually a part of stories against harmful self-love and narcissism?”

“Mansa the Gold?”

“Only wishes a greater treasury. His tales usually end with him digging towards the core of Zeme, seeking ever more wealth from the earth.”

“Krol the Conqueror.”

“Dead? Isn’t that what the stories say?”

Tala considered. Yeah, there was a uniting of ancient heroes that died to stop the Conqueror. “Reine of the Deep? Dauphin the Enduring? Mirza Far Sight?” Tala frowned, trying to remember all the most powerful, nonhuman figures in the ancient tales. “Padishah of the Plains? Basileus the Betrayer?”

Mistress Odera shrugged. “I cannot tell you the dispositions of the powers in the world at large, Mistress. I know the same stories as you, though I imagine you know them better.” She gave a small smile. “For all I know, most, if not all, of these are purely fictional.”

“What of the gods?”

She let out a long sigh. “Mistress Tala. In my life, I have only ever seen one creature classified as a god. The Leviathan.”

“When did you see the Leviathan?” Tala’s voice was just above a whisper.

“When I was at the Academy.” Mistress Odera quirked a smile. “It is one reason I sought answers about the origin of the place. I was on the library’s tower-top, just after a storm. A ship, not of human make, had been driven into the waters around the island, and the magics were forcing it away.”

Tala had paused her eating to listen.

“As the magics finally compelled the vessel out past the area of safety, a hole opened in the ocean, and the ship dropped from sight, like a stone from the tower-top.” She shook her head. “Moments later, after the hole had closed and all traces of the ship were gone, an eye rose up to regard the island. The eye was larger than a wagon, and the power of the being was so great that I could see the magic, even without my mage-sight active. A single tentacle reached out towards me -well, probably towards the Academy- but slid off of an invisible boundary.”

Tala swallowed and shivered. She’d never really been interested in sea-travel. Now, she was sure she’d avoid it at all costs. “So, that’s a god.”

Mistress Odera laughed. “No, no.” She shook her head. “As the tentacle slid off the boundary, I saw sudden fear enter the great eye. A bellow of terror shook the Academy and turned the sea into a froth. In an instant, that ship destroyer vanished inside a great maw. Teeth larger than the library tower I stood upon tore through cleanly and dragged the creature under. The ocean was red and thick with blood for a month after that.”

Tala took a deep drink of her coffee. “Yeah…no sea travel for me.”

“Wise choice. Most gods on the land are easier to ignore, assuming you don’t violate their sense of what is right.” Mistress Odera nodded sagely. “The Forest Spirit walks these very woods. He only interacts with mortals if they attempt to harm the forest at large, or wipe out one of its species.”

“The Leshkin.”

“Yes. They put themselves under his protection by becoming creatures of the forest.”

Tala frowned. “That seems like cheating.”

Mistress Odera laughed. “He doesn’t care if you kill the creatures, only if you threaten the species as a whole. The Leshkin cannot be killed outright, so he only cares if their heartseeds are threatened.”

Well, that explains why no one has wiped them out, yet.

“He isn’t vengeful, though. He simply stops the attempts. Very few have actually ever seen him, but those who recorded the experience recall feeling overwhelming shame, like disappointing a cherished mentor. It is theorized that, at his core, the Forest Spirit is a Conceptual Creator, but that is obviously speculation.”

Tala grunted. “I don’t really understand the conceptual side of magic.”

“Most humans can’t, really. That’s one of the reasons we can’t use it.”

Tala laughed. “That makes sense. I don’t even know the divisions of that side, though.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, humans use physical magic: Material and Immaterial.”

“That’s right.”

“So, what are the divisions of conceptual magic?”

“Ah, Abstract and Concrete.”

“I don’t know what that means.”

“Well, I can’t explain it to you.”

“How can a concept be concrete? Aren’t they all abstract?” Tala was mainly talking to herself.

Mistress Odera didn’t answer, instead sipping her tea.

After a moment, Tala cocked her head. “Wait a second.”

“Hmmm?”

“I was trying to ask questions about you.”

“Were you now?” Mistress Odera managed to hide most of her smile behind another sip of tea.

Tala narrowed her eyes at the woman. “Yes.”

“Well, I’m sorry to say that our time is all but done.”

“Oh?”

“You said you were meeting someone else at ten, right?”

“Yes.”

“It’s half past nine.”

Tala grimaced. “That’s not fair.”

“What isn’t fair?”

“You know how to play my curiosity, deflecting me from what I intend.”

“That’s called being a good conversationalist, dear.” She then muttered into her tea, too quietly for her to have expected Tala to be able to hear. “You should try it some time.”

Tala glared but didn’t comment.

“So? Get going, Mistress. I’ve got the bill covered.”

Tala sighed but stood. “Thank you for breakfast, Mistress Odera.”

“It was a pleasure.”

Tala grabbed a double handful of bacon and sausage, wrapped it in a napkin and headed for the door.

Terry flickered to her shoulder, and she gave him a sausage as they left the restaurant.

* * *

Tala finished up her load of meat just as she got to the Constructionist Guild office.

The standard scan and ding heralded her arrival.

“Tala!” Grent walked out of the back hall, arms wide.

Well, rust… Tala folded her hands in front of herself and gave a half bow. “Master Grent.”

He seemed to almost miss a step, but his smile never wavered. “How are you, Mistress?” He stopped just out of arm’s reach and gave a half bow in return.

“I am well, thank you. And you?”

“I am very well, thank you.”

“Shall we?”

It was an awkward second breakfast.

* * *

Tala grimaced as she entered the training room, only to find Rane already there. Terry flickered to his corner, seeming not wanting to get involved.

“So? How did your…not-date go?”

Tala grimaced. “I have nothing to say to you.”

Rane quirked a smile but nodded. “As you say.”

She sighed, stretching in a back-and-forth twist. “I need to hit something. Spar?”

“I thought you said you need to hit something.” He had a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

She glared. “You are testing me, sir.”

“Not yet, I’m not.” He drew Force.

Tala drew out two gravity-reduced balls, tossing them to either side and immediately beginning to increase their effective gravity towards Rane.

“Mistress Tala?” His eyes flicked between her and each of the balls, the previous night’s events clearly still on his mind.

Tala growled, drawing Flow in its training sheath. She lunged for him, transforming Flow into a glaive even as she charged.

Rane barely brought Force across in time to deflect the strike, but Tala switched paths at the last moment.

Flow shifted into the form of a sword, causing Force to sweep through empty air.

Rane was too skilled to be thrown off balance by a missed block, but he was definitely caught off guard.

Tala capitalized by immediately returning Flow to the form of a glaive and driving it towards the left side of his chest.

His defense activated, spinning him out of the way, and Force whipped around in a tight circle towards her head.

Flow’s long shaft came up to parry Force, and a concussion of power radiated out.

Tala held the glaive angled down, so the blade was nearly between Rane’s legs. With savage power, she ripped the blade upward.

Had he been without his defensive inscriptions, and if Flow had been unsheathed, she’d have split him groin to crown.

As it was, he flipped over her, lancing out with strike after strike as he passed overhead, skimming the ceiling, a bare thirteen feet up.

She expertly parried each thrust with the staff of her polearm, causing consecutive concussions of power.

As his feet touched down, Tala flicked her anchor past him, transforming Flow into a sword even as she was forcefully pulled forward by the dimensional compression.

She gritted her teeth against the incoming nausea, set on her goal. I will beat him, today.

The anchor would have caused her to bypass Rane, but Flow was out before her, Tala holding it perfectly still.

Rane’s defenses acted by matching his velocity to any incoming attack. Tala and her gear had no velocity of their own. Dimensionality was warping around her, causing her movement.

Flow struck his chest with a meaty thunk. Throwing him backward.

His eyes widened in shock, even as the wind was driven out of him.

Rane stumbled backwards, up against the wall. Tala’s dimensional travel ended less than ten feet from him, and she was already sprinting for him.

As he lifted his off-hand to his obviously bruised chest, Rane looked down and saw her anchor. He thrust Force into the circle of the spring clip and flicked it away.

Tala’s eyes widened, but she reacted on instinct, throwing Flow.

As the weapon flew, it transformed back into a knife, threaded the anchor, and pinned it in place, barely five feet to Rane’s right.

Before he could react further, Tala closed, attacking him from the left to drive him towards her anchor.

She ducked and wove around his strikes with precision, speed, and skill that she’d never been able to combine before. That, and he was moving slower than he was usually capable of, sucking in each breath.

As his next slash came in at shoulder height, Tala ducked and struck at the inside of his knee.

As he flipped out of the way, she stood, jumping with all her strength towards his center of rotation.

Rane’s inscriptions moved him away from her, slamming him into the ceiling. He groaned, his hand spasming and allowing Force to fall towards the floor.

Tala’s anchor dimensionally expanded the space above her, preventing her own impact with the ceiling.

She slowed and lightly dropped to the floor just before Rane fell.

She called Flow to her, ripping it from the floor and transforming it into a glaive for a sideways sweep, again at Rane’s center.

His inscriptions moved him out ahead of Flow’s strike, slamming him into the wall this time.

Tala stepped forward, feinting with thrusts threatening enough to cause his defenses to activate, jerking him against the wall and up just enough to keep him from returning to the floor.

His eyes opened, and something changed within them.

Force whipped up from the floor, clipping her leg on the way to Rane’s hand.

A spray of blood splattered the wall, and she momentarily lost that support. She had no time to fully register the injury.

Without a moment’s hesitation, Rane’s blade licked out.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Five strikes in less than a second, and Tala only blocked two of them.

The other three drove spears of force through her, painting the training floor behind her with her blood and bile.

Her leg returned to functionality, just as Rane hit the floor, his eyes a hard, solid blue.

Rane lunged for her; a rictus of concentration locked on his face.

Tala stumbled backwards, shifting her weapon fluidly between its forms to block every strike.

She wasn’t able to regain her footing, even as she hit the edge of her anchor’s radius.

Sensing the dimensional energy, she dropped backward into what was effectively an in-place-roll, deflecting a downward strike from Force in the middle of the maneuver with Flow’s glaive staff.

The next exchange was too fast for thought.

Tala couldn’t have said if they battered back and forth ten times or a hundred, but she managed to hold her own.

Rane was fighting with a ferocity she’d never witnessed. That gave him speed and reactions near what she, herself, had, but his skill was proportionally lessened, making it much closer of a fight than it had ever been.

She tried to press towards her anchor, so she could get it and retreat, but she had no luck.

Finally, she growled out. “Terry, I need the anchor.”

The terror bird flickered into being beside the device. He picked it up in his beak and tossed it, then vanished back to his corner.

As the anchor sailed through the air, Rane saw it. Lancing out with Force, he struck the device, sending it streaking across the room and towards the door out onto the balcony.

Tala’s eyes widened, even as motion sickness overcame her, and she likewise shot across the area.

Terry flickered into being for just an instant, catching the anchor, and dropping it so it would land within the room.

Bless you, Terry.

Tala stumbled to a knee as the dimensional energy dispersed.

She kept her head up just enough to keep an eye on Rane.

He stood with perfect form in a middle, hanging guard. His eyes blank and fixed on her.

“Master Rane?”

He took one careful step towards her.

What happened to him? “Master Rane. Enough.”

One step became two, then three, then he was rushing her.

“Rane, stop!”

His foot hesitated for an instant, but his momentum continued, causing him to stumble and dropping him into a roll. He smoothly came up to a knee, just more than a dozen feet from her.

“Master Rane?”

His calm, even breathing broke, and he was suddenly panting, shivering, and heaving. Sweat broke out across his entire body, and a shudder went through him before he collapsed to the floor, seemingly unconscious.

“Great…”

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