Mud and Magic Ch. 07

I can never tell anyone about this. Not even Thurguz. Especially not him.

A knock at the door tore Rhys from his thoughts. He looked from the door to the smoking ball of burning fabric in the fireplace. Snarling, he dashed across the room and yanked the door open. Sen took a hasty step backwards, the mug and bowl on her tray rattling dangerously.

"Not a good time?" she asked. "Who's in there now? Idunn?"

"Give it a rest already," Rhys snarled. He took the breakfast tray and slammed the door in Sen's face.

"Hey, is something burning in there?" he heard Sen call.

"No, just some magic trick gone awry!" Rhys lied. "Thanks for breakfast."

* * * *

Rhys entered the training room. His body felt unbelievably heavy, as if his limbs had been coated with lead. Neither cold water nor his usual oatmeal had managed to drive away the specters of the night. The nagging feeling that his dream could be more than just a phantasm, that maybe the part with Desire was anything but imaginary, was hard to dislodge too.

"You look like you had quite the night," Idunn observed. "And please, don't let showing up late become a habit."

"Sorry," he mumbled. "Won't happen again, I hope."

"I hope so too." The dwarven sorceress looked him up and down. "Can you concentrate enough? Your mastery of Thornfoote's Paradigm is sufficient."

"I wouldn't mind practicing the 'street fighting' magics a bit more," Rhys said.

"You can do that on your own time. I think we will move on to more advanced topics. Your pick - body alteration or conjuration magic?"

"What kind of effects will fall under the latter choice? From what I've seen in 'Combat Magick Condensed', body alteration includes self-levitation, flight, Armor spells, shape shifting, invisibility and the like."

"In short, conjuration involves the movement of things. From summoning allies to help in battle to teleportation to conjuring weapons into your hands." Idunn's hand flashed through a quick motion and her burning battleaxe appeared.

Rhys scratched his chin and thought for a bit. "I think I'd rather go for alteration then," he finally said.

"Oh?" Idunn dismissed her axe. "I thought you'd like to learn Teleport as soon as possible. To visit your sister."

"I do. But considering my recent adventures, I'd like to improve my chances of survival a bit. I can't learn Teleport when I'm dead."

"That makes sense." Idunn paced the breadth of the room. "We'll start with defensive effects first and move on to movement-related spells later. Last will be shapechanging. A natural progression."

"That sounds rather intimidating," Rhys admitted.

"It's not as bad as you may think," Idunn said, coming to a stop in front of Rhys. "Thanks to your previous training, you already know the basics of alteration. You know how to apply magical energy to change an item's properties."

"Like shrinking a helmet?"

"Exactly. Only this time, you won't work with someone else's items. Your body will be altered."

Rhys opened his mouth but Idunn cut him off with a gesture and a smile.

"No, the chance of a painful accident or permanent alteration is rather low, for two reasons. First, I am here. Should I realize you're doing something dumb, I can intervene and dispel your magic. Second, and it's the sad truth, the amount of power necessary to permanently encase yourself in armor or turn your skin to stone would probably kill you before the spell has fully manifested."

"And what about the legends? It was said that the Elven Queen in 'The Tales Of Orran' had skin no blade could pierce. And all the evil mages binding enchantments to their skin?"

Idunn snorted in disgust. "Either the Elf Queen had some mystical item which shielded her or she had her Council of Mages weave an enchantment. Very few mages are able to permanently bind spells to their bodies. Months? Sure. Even I can do that. Years? I've heard about that. But 'forever?' That would cause all manner of problems, especially once the caster dies. I've heard tales of old mages whose spells went out of control once their will was gone. But that's not important. Over the next few weeks, I will teach you how to alter the properties of your body, at first for a few minutes at a time then for longer. Once you have mastered the basics and I am certain you won't kill yourself on accident, you are free to experiment."

"What do we start with?"

Idunn's smile turned grim. "Armor. One of the fundamental battle spells and also a good basis to expand your mastery from." She walked over to a cabinet and pulled a metal gauntlet from it. "There is one major difference between Thornfoote's Paradigm and what I am about to teach you though."

"What would that be?"

"Instead of replacing a major property, you will add one. Please watch."

Rhys focused his senses on Idunn as she began to draw power with her free hand. For an instant, her skin took on a silvery, polished sheen before returning to her normal, bronze color. She handed him the gauntlet.

"Hit me. I know you want to."

"I would never," Rhys said. "You have been nothing but good to me. Strict, yes, but fair."

"Your flattery will get you nowhere with me. Hit me with the gauntlet, Rhys."

"As you command." He obliged, swiping the heavy piece of armor at her shoulder. Idunn didn't even try to evade. With the only slightly muffled sound of metal against metal, the gauntlet pinged off her shoulder.

"See? I'm armor-plated for the next few minutes," Idunn said, holding out her hand. "But had I simply replaced my body's properties with that of the gauntlet, I'd be a pretty statue. I added the hardness."

"Is it as difficult as you make it sound?"

"Not much different from causing knots to slip open or turning a metal helmet into a piece of wood."

"How many properties can I add?"

"Your ability to concentrate and the amount of power you use determines that. You should probably focus on the important things like hardness instead of looks. I've heard of mages who craft an impressive optical component, sheathing their body in gleaming metal plates when they cast an Armor spell, but that kind of flashy showmanship will only hurt you in the end. It takes longer to cast and eats more of your concentration."

"You gleamed for a moment too."

"I did that mainly for your benefit. Adding such a little flourish doesn't hurt and can be a boon for your allies. As always, sorcery is very personal." She rapped her fingers against the gauntlet. "Enough talk. For a start, I want you to armor your right hand."

"Little steps, huh?"

"Also, should you mess it up, you only lose a hand."

"That's... not reassuring."

"Regrowing a hand is much easier than raising the dead. As long as we have a druid like Elara with us." Idunn clicked her fingers against each other. "I'm waiting, Rhys."

"All right, all right." The young sorcerer passed the gauntlet to his left hand and used the right one to draw power by the fistful. Instead of directing the energy outward to alter something away from him, he turned the power towards himself. The strands suffused his body, raising every hair and flooding his system with a tingling sensation. He laughed. This feels incredible! It's... it's almost like sex! He blushed as he noticed himself growing hard. Probably not the kind of hardness Idunn wants. The gauntlet in his left hand seemed to hum and throb in time to his heartbeat, almost as if it already was a part of his body. It took him only a moment to alter his right hand until it resonated like the armor piece. He closed his right hand, keeping some of the power around him.

"I think I got it," he panted, raising his fist.

Idunn held a wooden board between both hands. "Well, try the board then."

Rhys threw a punch at the wood. It sounded like someone tried a mace against it. "Ow!" He looked at his fist. "That hurt."

A sly smile played around Idunn's mouth. "Of course it does. Your skin is as hard as steel now but you still want to be able to grasp and touch things, right? That won't work without your tactile perception. Hitting a wooden board with full force... that's a tactile perception as well and I'd recommend not to remove that. It would mess with your balance and your self-preservation."

Rhys dismissed the spell and shook out his fingers. "No bruises though. Weird." He looked at Idunn. "I never knew magic could feel so... nice."

Her eyes flickered to his crotch. "That's the ether you're noticing. Feels good, hm?"

"Yes. Almost too good." He blushed.

"Don't feel bad. We all love the rush. It's one thing to hurl a fireball at enemies, an entirely different one to use the power to change yourself. Some can get lost in the streams of power."

"Is there such a thing as magic addiction?"

"Yes and no. It's the sorcerers and druids who are vulnerable. Mages and clerics not so much, since they work with static formulae or what little divine energy the gods spare them. And as you very well know, it takes a certain amount of willpower to harness magic. Willpower precludes addiction most of the time. But there are cautionary tales of sorcerers lost to the magic, eternally using bigger and bigger enchantments on themselves until the Burn claims them."

Rhys shivered. "Yikes. I hate Sorcerer's Burn."

"Good. Respect the power you have been given."

"I will. What next?"

"How difficult was it to change your hand?"

Rhys opened and closed his fingers. "Rather easy. Is it supposed to be that simple?"

Idunn laughed. "Let's talk about 'simple' when you have to keep up the Armor spell and cast another one on top of that. Since you had no problem altering one hand, how about the whole arm next?"

* * * *

Four hours later, Rhys returned to the fourth floor, weary and hungry. Idunn had been right, as she always was. The Armor spell itself wasn't that much of a problem, not after a week of disarming whole rooms of training dummies. Keeping the spell up while casting a different one and being bombarded by Idunn's bean bags - that was a challenge. His headaches were back, along with numerous bruises where the bean bags had hit him when the Armor invariably dissipated.

Walking through the corridors, he could hear the clangor of Lishaka playing on the large musical instrument in the common room. Despite his headaches, he changed his course. I really don't want to be alone right now.

Sen came towards him. "I'm on my way to the kitchen," she said. "Do you need anything?" She actually managed a little smile.

"I wouldn't mind a hearty lunch. Idunn has put me through the wringer, as usual." He cocked an eyebrow. "You look rather cheerful today."

"We-ll," Sen said, closing the distance to less than arm's length. Her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. "I've met a certain elven gentleman who taught me a few new combat moves. Maybe I'll be good enough soon to even impress Thurguz." Louder, she said: "Anything in particular you want?"

"Meat and fried potatoes should do. Would you mind bringing it to the common room?"

"No, that's where I have to return to anyway. Thurguz and Moril are enjoying Lishaka's racket and they asked me to grab something to drink for them." She squeezed Rhys' elbow and jogged past him.

When he reached the common room, the door opened and Thurguz strode out.

"Leaving already?" Rhys asked, trying to be heard over Lishaka's enthusiastic but out-of-key playing. "I was hoping I could talk to you about something."

"Not now, lad. I need to consult a few of my agents," Thurguz said, clapping Rhys' shoulder. "See me tomorrow morning and we'll talk." The massive half-orc stomped off.

Rhys entered the common room. The enchanted windows showed different images than the last time. All three were city vistas but they couldn't have been more contrasting. Rhys recognized the plaza in front of Lordehome's Cathedral of Light from a drawing in "The Tales of Orran," the imposing triple-spired building illuminated by an impressive sunset. Hundreds of people milled around the plaza, some admiring the cathedral, others drifting amidst the colorful stalls and tents surrounding a large fountain, others just passing by, a motley mix of nobles, peasants and guards.

The second window showed some kind of garden or park at night. Rhys saw large ponds, trees with purple blossoms and meticulously raked gravel paths. In the background, a vast building towered above the park, layers and layers of roofs and windows, like a mountain made from wood and shingles - and the building seemed to burn with an innate radiance, a warm golden glow which suffused not only the building but the whole city surrounding it.

Finally, the third window opened onto a street, much narrower than anything the others showed. The buildings to either side created shadows which made the street look like the bottom of a chasm. The plaza in Lordehome was busy but the street here was packed with a dense throng of people. Rhys couldn't help but shiver as he remembered his own recent adventure in Storm Harbor. But this wasn't Storm Harbor he was looking at. The people milling in that street, trying not to fall over the beggars and traders lining the sides of the road, wore strange clothing - long robes and hats made from strips of cloth wound around the head, often adorned with feathers or gems. A thin sheet of dust hung in the air, giving the whole scene a surreal, distant atmosphere and piles of golden sand had amassed in corners.

Moril rose from his chair. "Come, sit." His hand, the one covered by the metal glove, gestured invitingly at the chair opposite him.

Rhys stopped at the musical instrument and hugged Lishaka. The goblin stopped vandalizing the keyboard and cuddled with him. Rhys saw Moril raise his left eyebrow.

"You look kinda beat, Rhyssie," Lishaka said.

He chuckled weakly. "I'm trying to learn alteration magic. Armor spells. And Idunn seems to derive a fiendish pleasure from breaking my concentration." He gingerly touched a bruise on his forehead. "And here I foolishly believed armor protects against humiliation."

"Shall I get a healing potion for you? Or do you want a massage?" Lishaka's eyes lit up.

Rhys squeezed her once more before disentangling from her. "Thank you, but no. I'll stop by the infirmary later and get patched up."

He joined Moril and sat down opposite the elf. "I didn't manage to say 'thank you' for the other day."

"Don't worry about it. Considering the circumstances, I know that courtesy wasn't high on your list of priorities. But I appreciate the thought. How do you feel?"

Rhys inhaled slowly, carefully weighing his words. "It feels like I should wake up any moment now, realizing it is all a bad dream. But a simple look at Celeste is enough to remind me that this is all too real. I wish I could grieve for all those Faedal has killed but I'm much too angry for that." He balled his fists.

"Anger is a good driving force but it can make you careless," Moril said. "Take it from me." He clicked his metal-clad fingertips against his mask.

"May I ask what happened to you?"

"It's no secret," the elf said, chuckling wearily. "I hail from the same settlement as Princess Elara. Before my unfortunate accident, I was a Talon in the service of the Speaker."

"What's a 'Talon?'" Rhys asked.

Moril chuckled again. "Think of Talons as agents. We work outside the usual military command structure and answer only to the Speaker. My particular task was to roam our holdings, seek out obvious threats and deal with them. Mainly dangerous monsters. This task led me away from my home for months on end and when I returned one day, I found the city ransacked and most of my people killed, rotting in the streets where they had been mercilessly butchered. I wasn't there when the Speaker sent the delegation to negotiate with the woodcutters but I eventually found his notes. So I did what every duty-bound Talon would do - I swore to avenge the fallen and searched for the logging camp."

The door opened and Sen entered, bringing a large tray with Rhys' lunch and a bottle of wine. "The old man already left?" she asked.

Moril nodded and took the bottle. "Leaves more for me," he quipped.

"Dig in," Sen said, placing the food in front of Rhys.

"Thank you."

Sen was already halfway out of the room. She closed the door on her way out.

"That's not like her, dashing off like that," Lishaka said.

"She probably thinks her presence offends me," Moril mused. He shrugged. "I'm way past those narrow-minded ideas. Humans, half-elves, even greenskins - they all have their strengths and weaknesses, much as we elves have ours."

"You still looked at us funny when Lishaka and I cuddled earlier," Rhys said between bites.

"How often does one see humans and goblins exchange hugs and kisses?" The elf grinned. "Alas, my solitary crusade didn't succeed. I was hot on the heels of a slave convoy. My sources told me they saw someone looking like Princess Elara being transported, so I didn't hesitate and followed the convoy which eventually met up with some riders, one of them a blonde human with strange markings on his skin. Intent on saving my princess, I attacked, taking out the guards with shots from my bow before I closed in, intent on dealing with the remaining combatants. The blonde human - Faedal - challenged me to a duel and beat me soundly." Moril lowered his gaze and gnashed his teeth. "But instead of ending me outright, he toyed with me. He had me watch as he raped and tortured half a dozen young elves." His voice drifted off.

"Bastard," Rhys hissed. "How did you escape?"

"I didn't." Moril filled both glasses and placed one in front of Rhys. He then pulled a slender metal tube off his glove, using it as a straw to sip his wine. "Faedal said I was much too old to rape but he used my body for sword practice. When he was done, he left me to die."

"That's horrible!" Lishaka said.

"How come you didn't die?" Rhys asked.

"One of Thurguz' agents had spied upon the convoy. He wasn't able to attack it on his own but he sent a call for help. When Faedal left, I was brought to the tower and Idunn healed me as best she could."

"That's why you wear the mask and glove?" Rhys asked.

Moril laughed bitterly. "These are no mere fashion accessories. These metal plates keep my skull together and this-" he tapped his right hand with his left, "is no glove. Look closer." He reached across the table.

Rhys examined the elf's right forearm. What he had seen as a mere scaled gauntlet was in fact a total limb replacement, all the way from the elbow joint. Moril moved his fingers and Rhys heard a metallic whirring and clicking underneath the golden scales.

"There is more metal in my body than flesh," Moril said softly. "And it's a painful existence, believe me. But without these drastic measures I would have died." An errant glint of light played off the red crystal eye. "At least I can still fight and I won't rest until Faedal - and Carver - have been dealt with."

"Idunn made this?"

"Yes. She applied some techniques normally used in golem construction." Moril's lip twitched. "Even if I wanted to leave Thurguz and his cause behind, I couldn't. She needs to perform regular maintenance on my replacement parts."

"Can't Elara heal you?"

"Probably. But to do that, all the changes would have to be reversed, bringing me close to death again. My life is painful now but it is nothing compared to the agony inflicted on me by Faedal. Also, I have come to appreciate the enhancements." Moril balled his fist. "I'm stronger and tougher now and my eye can do things other hunters would kill for. All it took to gain these powers was for Faedal to eviscerate and amputate me."

The elf looked at Rhys' barely-touched food. "I hope I didn't ruin your lunch."

Rhys shook his head. "No. I was too busy listening to your story. Besides, it takes quite a lot to kill my appetite." Like thinking about tonight's dream. He stabbed at his food again and ate hungrily. As always, the meat was done to perfection, simply seasoned with salt and pepper to accentuate the flavor while the fried potatoes had fresh rosemary and onion in it.