Millennial Mage

Tala was uncomfortably sweaty when she and Terry picked up their tray of food and bid a good morning to the cooks.

Back at the wagon, she again did her best to clean herself, but was quite unhappy with the result.

She groaned in irritation. “Kit. Can you alter your interior so I can get clean easier?”

The pouch did not respond.

In the hopes of a miracle, Tala secured the pouch and climbed down in.

As soon as she was in, she looked around hopefully.

The inside of the pouch was vastly changed, with almost all of Tala’s possessions crammed in barely organized shelving, right up around the entrance. The ladder went lower, into a circular empty space not quite wide enough for Tala to stretch her elbows fully out.

If anything, there was a smaller volume of space, but it was mostly vertical, keeping her belongings up high. To aid in the process to come, the small circular space around the ladder flared outward, below, and all her belongings were tucked back, just a bit, on their respective shelves.

Honestly, it seemed like it could have been the inside of a massive vase.

The feeling of warm contentment, ever present within the pouch, was the only response. Though, Tala did feel the deficit of magic caused by such a radical rearrangement, even as she reached the bottom and saw the hand-shaped different-colored patch of wall.

“Ahh, you’re hungry.” She placed her hand on the offered location and refilled Kit’s reserves.

Then, without delaying, she stripped, tossing the clothes upwards. They didn’t come back down, so it must have worked.

Then, standing naked at the bottom of a hole dug into nowhere, she found the water incorporator and a small box of powdered soap on little bump outs. “You think of everything, Kit.”

Kit did not respond.

She took a luxuriant shower only shortened by the deeply cold temperature of the water and the knowledge that breakfast lay above.

She brushed her hair dry and free of tangles before braiding it, and briefly verified her layer of iron salve was still intact and refreshing where it was lacking. She then dressed in the already clean travel clothes and climbed back out. She wasn’t fully dry, but the magically incorporated water would fade soon enough.

When she reached topside once more, she returned the pouch to her belt and gave a generous dose of power to Kit. That done, she fed her outfit, which was markedly low on power. Likely drained from removing the grime, sweat, and dirt from itself and repairing the obliterated knee on the right leg, earlier this morning.

She shivered slightly even as the sun warmed her. Terry had finished his plate, and hers was suspiciously low on meat-stuff, though the predator had left her one sausage and one piece of bacon. She gave Terry a mock glare. “I’ll need more than this.” The other food: fruit and a surprisingly tasty oat pancake, weren’t enough to fill her.

Sighing, she ate what had been left for her, then climbed down, bearing the tray and Terry, and walked back towards the chuckwagon.

Den called after her. “We’re leaving in less than five minutes.”

She waved back. “Thank you! I should be back before then.”

Brand greeted her at the chuckwagon’s back door, took her tray and laughingly provided her with more sausage and bacon. The head cook then tossed a bit of bacon to Terry, and the terror bird caught it happily. “He’s a cute one. Though, I swear, he looks much more like a miniature adult than a hatchling.”

There was an awkward pause that Brand didn’t seem to notice.

After a moment, he shrugged and continued. “But what do I know? It’s not like I’ve ever seen a terror hatchling. See you around lunch.”

Tala was almost back to her wagon when someone called out to her.

“Mistress Tala!”

Tala turned, a sausage freshly stuffed into her mouth. “Mmm?”

Rane came walking up behind her, his hand still wrapped in a wet towel. “Mistress Tala?”

She pushed the food into one cheek. “Yes?”

“Could I…” He scratched the back of his head with his left hand, looking a little uncertain. “You see, my assignment for the day is to watch the front of the caravan. Would it be possible for me to…?” He looked at her expectantly.

She blinked back at him for a long moment, chewing, then swallowing. Finally, his words clicked. “Oh! Oh, ummm… Sure? Yes.” She turned back towards Den’s wagon, but Rane cleared his throat.

“So… I can ride on your wagon with you, today?”

She glanced back. I suppose, I wasn’t clear? “Sure? It does have a good view of the front of the caravan, after all.”

* * *

Tala felt surprisingly awkward about performing her physical exercises with Rane present. So, instead, she decided to begin with her spiritual training.

Den had just flicked the oxen into movement when she set her knife near the front of the wagon and walked towards the rear.

Rane, for his part, had sat off to one side, and was giving her a quizzical look. “Aren’t you afraid that’ll fall off? I believe I’ve sensed magic from that. It must be valuable.”

Tala quirked a smile. “That’s actually a really good point, Master Rane.” She held up her hand, willed the knife to come, and it did, zipping through the air to stop perfectly in her hand.

Rane’s eyes widened. “I didn’t detect any air or movement power in that. How? Is it bound to you…?” He frowned, scratching the outside of his left eye with his right hand. “No… magic-bound items don’t gain new abilities, just more means of expressing the power they already have…” He looked back to her, narrowing his eyes. “Do you have a ‘come hither’ inscription?”

She barked a laugh at that. “ ‘Come hither?’ ” She laughed, again.

He grumbled slightly and muttered under his breath, clearly not intending her to hear. “It would explain a lot…”

Tala didn’t react to the muttering, nor did she remember it for later pondering. That would have been silly.

He sighed, then looked back up. “Secret for secret then?”

She shrugged, then nodded. “You first.”

He rolled his eyes but nodded in turn. “Fair enough. I’ve six magic-bound items. I would have seven, but I don’t have the knowledge to properly empower an inscribed dimensional storage…” He let out a discontented sigh.

He must be thinking about his bag-for-bodies, that he left with Brand.

“My clothing is woven from the silk of a retribution spider. The fibers are insanely strong, and they pull back together when severed. I’m told it’s rusting hard to work with, but they managed.” He smiled. “So, that’s four of my items-”

Tala cut him off. “Four?”

He shifted. “Well, yeah. My robe, pants, sandals, and… undergarment.”

She blinked at him. “Sandals, too?”

He shrugged. “Well, the sandals are immortal elk leather. New, too. Those are insanely hard to kill.”

She frowned. “Where’d you get the leather?” Grediv knew what my clothes were made of.

“Master Grediv bought the hide off of a hunter. He said there was only enough left for the sandals, so that’s what I got.” He smiled sadly, tapping his shoes. “This stuff’s tougher than the silk, though not by too much. Even so, I’d love to not look so much like a rich fop.”

She grinned at that. “You do look a bit like you’re going to a ball.” Well, that explained why his clothing is always so clean and seemingly perfectly pressed.

“So, each piece is an individual item?”

He sighed dejectedly, nodding. “Yeah. Master Grediv explained that once I become an Archon I can meld them into one, but that’s a ways away, isn’t it? The books I’ve found agree, it seems.” He smiled sadly. “Until then, I get to start each day feeding my outfit.”

Her grin widened. “Ahh, a true slave to fashion.”

He snorted. “Fair, fair.”

“And the last two?”

He patted the wooden handle poking up from his belt. “Force, my sword, is one.”

She cocked an eyebrow. “Force?”

He shrugged. “Objects only change velocity with an applied force.” He patted his sword’s hilt, again. “So, when I want something to change, I apply Force.”

She rolled her eyes but kept smiling. “That’s pretty funny.”

He shrugged. “I was bored and fifteen when I named it. Seems to fit, though.”

“Will you tell me what it does?”

He shook his head. “We’re at first level secrets, here.” His eyes twinkled a little. “That’s at least…” He faked pondering. “Fifteenth level?”

She blinked at him for a moment. “Fifteenth?”

“Meh.” He shrugged. “Something like that.”

She shook her head. “So, the last?”

“Dimensional storage.”

She looked to the sword. “Where you keep most of the sword?”

“Yeah, but that’s just the smallest the opening gets.”

“So… is it a pouch? Or…?”

“It’s a leather cord, but more information than that is like…eighty levels of secrecy from where we are now.”

She rolled her eyes again. “You’re a bit of a child, aren’t you.” But there was mirth in her tone.

“You are what you eat?”

She gave him a perplexed look. “Say again?”

He put a hand to his face. “I’m sorry… That sounded funnier in my head.”

“How?”

Rane just shook his head. “I have no idea, honestly.”

Den was laughing very quietly, barely in range of Tala’s hearing, and he was doing a masterful job of not letting his attention be known. Even so, Tala couldn’t tell if he was laughing at the pitiful excuse for a joke, or at something else. Probably something else.

Rane cleared his throat, clearly hoping to change the subject. “So… Those are my opening secrets. Your turn.”

Tala sat. “So, funny that you mention immortal elk leather.” She gestured at her outfit.

He nodded. “I thought it seemed familiar. Isn’t it amazing how much it looks like fabric to the casual eye?”

She nodded. “Yeah, and it’s so comfortable! It fits perfectly, stays clean, and doesn’t stay torn to shreds.”

“Yeah, I’ve never owned better shoes.” He tapped one sole with the back of his knuckle. “So, that’s what? Three items?”

Three? Oh… Right. She had a choice to make. She could likely lie, and he would never know, or she could be honest when it didn’t cost her anything. Truth is better. “It’s one item for me.”

He frowned. “Are they joined under the tunic?”

“No… they’re joined spiritually. They’re one item, but not physically.”

He blinked at her for a long moment, then leaned forward. “You know how to bond items together?”

“It’s very similar to a complex spell-form that I’ve been working on, so yes. Master Grediv does too, so I’m not sure I should be the one to tell you…”

He nodded, leaning back. “Yeah, the Archon star. The rusting books on bound items always seem to describe the combining of those items in reference to that spell-form. Master Grediv wrote me a description and sealed it in an envelope.”

“Warded against you until when? That’s just mean.”

He shook his head. “No, not warded. He just said, ‘Be sure you’re ready before you read this.’ I’ve never heard him so serious, before, so I decided to train more before reading it.”

“That’s why you’re on this journey?”

He hesitated a moment, then let out a long breath. “No… Master Grediv is irritated that I haven’t opened the letter, so he sent me on this as an ‘eye opening quest’ to get me to take some responsibility and read the ‘rust cursed letter already.’ ”

She quirked a smile. “So, how long have you had it?”

He shrugged. “A few years.”

She blinked. Master Grediv thought he was ready to learn the Archon star a few years ago? “Huh…”

He glanced at her. “You think I should read it too… don’t you.”

“Well… yeah. You’re being offered power and a means to advance. Why not take it?”

He sighed and looked away. “I don’t know if I want to have the Archon star form given to me. I’m told that the greatest Mages discover it on their own.”

She opened her mouth at that, but closed it, feeling an unexpected blush of happiness from the unwitting compliment.

“But that’s not what we’re talking about now, is it? You’ve changed the subject.”

She cleared her throat. “Fair enough…” She gestured to her belt pouch. “This is my dimensional storage, Kit. And-”

“Wait, wait, wait… You named your dimensional storage?”

“Seemed reasonable.”

“But…it’s a bag.”

“Don’t listen to him, Kit. You’re awesome.”

The pouch did not respond.

“Mistress Tala…”

“You named your sword. Why can’t I name my belt pouch?”

He opened his mouth to respond, then seemed to think better of it, shrugging and sighing. “Very well.”

She then pulled out her hammer and knife. “Knife and hammer, each bound.”

He looked closely. “A repeating hammer? Let me guess: Mister Taps.”

She glared. “No. I haven’t named it…yet.” She shrugged. “I wasn’t even planning on keeping it, but it was starved of magic, and I thought it was better to keep it than let it become just another hammer.” Wait, if he doesn’t know about the hammer, that means Trent didn’t tell the other Mages the specifics of my accident. She felt an odd sense of gratitude for that.

Rane was still regarding the hammer. “…couldn’t you have put it in an iron box?”

She gave him a long look. “Well…yes. If I’d thought of that.” Oh…I’m an idiot. True, that assumed that most of its power loss wasn’t from using its power, but even so.

He grinned at her. “You do seem to be an odd combination of ‘new to this’ and strangely ‘in the know.’ ”

“That’s what I do. Search out esoteric knowledge, while forgetting the basics.” She shrugged. “But those are my bound items.”

Terry piped up from where he was curled, squarely in the center of the padded square in the wagon’s roof.

“No, Terry, I’ve not bonded you, not in the way he means. And you’re not an item.”

Terry shimmied down a little further, letting out a small, irritated squawk.

“He’s an interesting one, isn’t he?”

Tala gave him a guilty smile. “Yeah.”

“How’d you find him again?”

“He tried to kill me, failed, then wouldn’t go away.”

Terry gave her a truly offended look, and Tala tossed him a hunk of jerky.

“Sorry, Terry, I didn’t mean it like that.”

The bird snapped the meat from the air and settled back into his restful pose, somewhat mollified.

“Yeah… That’s not a standard hatchling.”

Tala glanced to Rane and saw the inscribings around the man’s eyes already filled with power.

He looked to her. “Not my business, but don’t let it kill anyone, please?”

“I’ll do my best.”

His face suddenly turned serious. “No, Mistress Tala. I’m serious. That bird kills no one. If you can’t promise me that, I’ll kill it now.”

Terry’s head came up, eyes locked onto Rane.

Tala raised a placating hand towards the bird but kept her eyes on Rane. “He won’t kill anyone who doesn’t need killing.”

Rane hesitated, clearly hearing the gold in her tone. After a long moment, he nodded. “Very well.” He looked to Terry and gave a slight bow of his head. “I apologize for any offense given.”

Terry continued to regard Rane for a long moment before glancing to Tala.

Tala sighed and handed a piece of jerky to Rane.

Rane barked a short laugh, rolled his eyes, took the meat, then tossed it to Terry. Terry caught it happily and curled up once more.

“As I said, not a standard hatchling.” He turned back to Tala. “I do hope you know what you’re doing.”

If hopes were gilded, I’d be rich. “Of course.” She smiled in what she hoped was a convincing manner.

“So…you haven’t explained how you can call the knife to you.”

“Oh! Right.” She dropped the knife over the side and waited a few moments before calling it back to her. It was more difficult calling it up and back, but still within her abilities. Don’t wait so long next time… “It’s a function of the bond, to the best of my knowledge.”

“The magic-bond? That shouldn’t give any additional categories of ability.”

She hesitated, then sighed. In for a copper… “A soul-bond.”

He gave her a long look. “You aren’t an Archon.”

“No.”

“Then, you shouldn’t be able to work with souls, let alone form bonds.”

“I’m odd like that.”

He blinked at her a few times, then shook his head. “No, Mistress Tala. That’s not how this works. This isn’t: ‘I’m a Mage and fight with my fists’ odd. This isn’t even: ‘I’m an assassin, but I love to bake’ odd. This is: ‘I’m a fish that can fly’ levels of odd.”

She cocked her head. “Are there flying fish-?”

He raised a hand. “I’m terrible at metaphors, ok, but you get my meaning.”

He is Grediv’s student. “Not really?”

He groaned, scratching both of his cheeks at once, as he frowned in concentration. “It’s like meeting a toddler who can speak a foreign language fluently, without speaking his own, and there’s no one around who speaks the other language to have taught him.”

“That’s…odd. I’ll grant you. But an Archon star is hardly as complex as a whole language.”

“Not conceptually, but it is for your soul. Souls talk to their bodies. That’s their native language.”

“My soul talks to me? Wait… no. Now, I’m getting confused.”

He groaned. “See? Bad at metaphors… An Archon star is supposed to be as complex as a language for your soul, that’s what makes you an Archon. But you can do soul bonds without being an Archon.” He snapped his fingers, seeming excited. “It’s like writing a masterwork piece of music, then claiming you can’t read notes.”

“That sounds…implausible.”

“Exactly.”

“Huh… Maybe my soul just has a nice sound to it, regardless of the skill of the composer?”

“That…that actually makes sense…” He seemed to ponder. “Is that really it, or did my metaphor mess us over?”

She shrugged. “What I’m doing works. I’m getting better at it. It seems to be good. Why gainsay it?” When his skepticism persisted, she added. “Master Grediv knows what I’m doing and gave me guidelines.” After another moment, she added. “Which I am following.”

He rolled his eyes but still seemed deep in thought. “You’re an Immaterial Guide…is that it?” He was muttering to himself, again. When he spoke more loudly, he seemed uncertain. “A soul is immaterial, is your ability with guiding immaterial things allowing this to be easier for you?”

“No idea.”

He grunted irritably. “Fine… fine.”

She quirked a smile. “You know… if you read the letter…”

He gave her a weary half-glare. “Really?”

“Fine. Can I read it, then?”

“No!”

“Well, someone should.”

He sighed, looking down at his still bandaged hand. “I don’t suppose you have any water you’d spare for this? The evaporation helps keep it cool.”

She winced, remembering how she’d hurt him. “Yeah…” She pulled out her incorporator and gave it a moderate amount of power, sending a dribbling stream to re-wet the wrap.

“Those are really inefficient.”

“As inefficient as carrying around barrels of water?”

He tilted his head, considering. “Huh…fair enough, I suppose. You aren’t a Material Creator, after all.”

That done, she had a thought. “Hey! You’re an Immaterial Creator.”

“Yeah…? So?”

“You changed the forces of my attack, earlier. That’s a guide spell-working.” She hesitated, then belatedly added. “Sorry for the low blow, by the way.”

He smiled ruefully. “It was a bit of a cheap shot, but mine was hardly much better.” He pulled his hand, and the re-wetted bandage, back. “As to your implied question, Master Grediv has been pushing me to bridge the quadrants for a long time. That was the first working I understood enough to add it to my inscribings. Pretty useful, yeah?”

She snorted. “Kept you off the ground, so I’d say so.”

They fell into a bit of awkward silence, before Rane cleared his throat. “Do you mind if I stretch a bit? I didn’t really have much of a chance to after our fight.”

She shrugged. “Sure. I probably should do some physical work myself.”

With that established between them, they each began working through their own sets, Tala at the front of the wagon, Rane near the back.

Tala, for her part, went through her spiritual and magical strength training as well. As breaks between groups of sets, Rane read, and Tala continued her in-depth review. They occasionally filled the silence with talk about various small things.

All in all, it was a pleasant, safe, and wise way to spend the morning, and Tala found herself smiling more and more as the time wore on, content.

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