The Body Mage Chronicles Ch. 01-03

"Mage!" the man with the staff calls out when she sees her out on the street.

Freycia holds out her crest, emblazoned onto a scarf. She waves with a smile.

"You are under arrest for-"

"Oh, thank the goddess you are here!"

He looks at her, his eyes furrow in confusion but then flares his magic when he sees Kaelian step out. He waves at them with a smile as he walks out without armor but rather a suit that he has fashioned, a silk like black that luminesces in the dawnlight.

"We are saved!" she says, in a tone that seems unreal to herself. It is not her, of course, but the mannerisms of her best friend from Rethra. She would always tease Freycia for her lack of humor and joy, in contrast to her endless bubbly spirit. Thurell, she thinks as her voice pitches higher to match her memories of how her friend spoke, I miss you so.

"I summoned him, the warrior!" she explains.

"Do you have any idea what you have done?" he says, voice quivering in anger.

Freycia stops and paints the most innocent look of bewilderment on her face.

"What?"

"You there," another mage says as the two people by the man's side walk past her, magic flaring.

"Greetings, magi," Kaelian says, hands held up high. "I come in peace."

They cast binds on him immediately - tendrils of light that wrap around his arms and legs and encloses his mouth and eyes.

"Is this really necessary?" Freycia says, pouting.

"I am High Mage Vasten and you will answer to the Council for what you did," he says as he points his staff to the portal.

"Oh no! Anything but the Council!" says Frecyia, throwing her hands to cover her mouth.

"Are you...are you mocking me? You body mages are insane. Now, come!" he says as he forms an invisible hand that clutches her and drags her along with him.

"Prisoner secured, master!" a mage says. Kaelian floats almost horizontally as the two mages telekinetically carry his bound form towards the portal.

"Hey, let me go!" Freycia says. She holds her breath as she nears the portal. The

trip is quick, but always disorienting. Entering, her head is knocked back by an invisible force as she enters the bridge linking Brea and the Capital. A week's journey in a second.

In the Capital, the sun is nearly at its peak, beating down on the new arrivals. The square which they have entered is clearly recognizable to Freycia - she has stepped there a few weeks back, when she was newly accredited as a council mage. She remembers the ceremony and the snickers as others looked at her. Even the High Mage giving her the crest could not resist leering at her. The Rethraci had a reputation for being easy - which to a certain extent was true - and choosing the specialism of the body only compounded that.

"Whore mage," the insult goes, and though Freycia could not care less, her specialism will certainly affect how seriously the Council treats her when she and Kaelian stands before them. A whore mage that summoned a warrior from the stars. It would have been more believable for a vagrant to claim the crown.

It is stares that greet them as the three high mages bring their prisoners, bound in their magical claws, towards the prison. They are in the courtyard of the Magicarium, the abode of the Magi and the seat of the Council. And in the upper floors, looking out the windows carved out from hewn stone, interlaced with intricate patterns and runes, is a curious scholar.

Mivil looks at them, book in hand as her finger presses against the opticon on her right eye. "Goddess!" she swears, and drops everything as she rushes to meet them. She, too, attracts stares as she runs - her cropped bodice struggles to contain her swaying bust and her skirt floats and ripples in the rush, exposing her thong that feebly holds a gleaming nurastone lodged between the cheeks of her rump.

"Master Vasten," Mivil says, breathless and gasping for air as she runs to meet them. "May I have a word with them?"

"No, not until the Council speaks to them," Vasten says as they continue to walk to the dungeons. Mivil walks alongside him, her red face burning with determination.

"I understand, though as a liaison to the Selantran summoners, I have a deep interest in speaking to them. The mage, especially."

Vasten sighs. "I'll let you have a word with her when she is behind bars. And," he turns to her, his finger waving in emphasis, "I'm only doing this because your father was my friend."

"Thank you very much, Master Vasten. Much appreciated," Mivil says, bowing as gracefully as she could in her state of excitement. The body mage had accomplished something that only one other had done centuries before. She follows Freycia, who looks at her with disdain, though Mivil gives her a bright smile.

"How did you do it?" Mivil whispers.

"Do what?" Freycia asks.

"Summon him," she says, gesturing to Kaelian who was floating further back. The two mages escorting him were eyeing her as if she was a pest; their faces contort with irritation.

"Reari," Freycia says.

"I knew it!"

"Mivil!" Vasten exhorts, "I said, after she is behind bars."

"Yes, of course, my apologies Master," Mivil replies, and pulls away from the entourage.

Kaelian is moved opposite Freycia, though he is placed under heavy guard as the mages weave intricate binding spells into the walls and bars of his cell. Freycia, on the other hand, is ushered into a smaller cell which she shares with an old lady snoring on the cold stone ground. The dungeons reek of mold, and of excrement, as all dungeons tend to do. Water seeps in from the leaky ceilings, leaving the floor slick.

"Well, what have we got here?" a guard says as he looks at Freycia, a lustful smile on his lips. "A Rethraci body mage, are you? A lovely combination, if you asked me!"

Freycia stays silent, but gives him a half-hearted smile.

"Say," he whispers, "I'd be happy to help you out if you can help me out, too. If you could just reach out your hand...yes, like that, and grab down there - ahh!"

He screams not from pleasure, but from agony as Freycia twists his sack. The dungeon's flow barriers may have muted her magic, but not her strength.

"Fuck! Rethraci bitch!" he says as he keels over, and other guards come up to him. He waves them off quickly, not wanting them to find out the cause of his agony and be the butt of jokes for weeks.

"Are-aren't you supposed to pleasure us?" he says, spittle flying out of his mouth as he lets out another guttural groan.

"Yes, but only if your intentions are pure," she says, "and yours are far from it."

This brings out a chuckle from the haggard prisoner behind her, as she sits up and smoothes her tattered robes.

"Girl, you'll be hard pressed to find pure intentions in this city," she says, her face wrinkled and hair a faded white which hints at a once beautiful woman behind the patina of age.

"You're as crazy as that witch!" he says as he staggers up and walks away. "No rations for them!"

"Ooh, now I'm going to go hungry yet again," Freycia's cell mate says, yawning and then returning back to her supine repose.

"I am sorry. But he clearly does not understand Rethracian precepts."

"But very few do, young girl. To others, you are nothing more than a floozy who opens her legs at any one who requests it."

"My body is a temple for all who seek to partake of Rethra's delights," Freycia explains.

"Mmm, yes but the sanctum has no place for those who wish to desecrate it I suppose?"

"Yes, it does not. Forgive me, my lady, but I do not know your name. I am Freycia. Mage of the Body, newly accredited. Also," she says with a sigh, "newly imprisoned."

"Sesquine," she says, "Grand Enchantress of the Tower."

"The Tower?"

"Is there another?"

"But that means..."

"Yes, yes. I'm the one who transmuted that bastard with the small cock."

"I hear people say the Counciler deserved it," Freycia says. "It is my pleasure to meet you, your grace."

"Hmph, not Ercival's clearly."

"So I suppose it was true? He was sleeping with his servant girls?"

"Yes. Took advantage of them. That orcsack even preyed on the young ones."

"Then he got what was coming for him."

"Mmm, and I got a nice break from my duties. At least for a few more weeks until they realize I'm the only one who can reverse the spell."

"And will you?"

"Not feeling like it at the moment. Maybe when I get bored of this place," she says, "though not anytime soon. I saw the new visitor. He is...interesting."

"A warrior from the stars. I did not believe Reari's summon spell would actually work."

"So you found Reari's notes, eh?"

Freycia nods, "Yes. Part of me didn't believe it would actually work."

"Has he proven to be as powerful as the stories have told?"

"Yes, very much so. Perhaps even more powerful than the one summoned by Reari."

"Well then, things are really going to be very interesting. I suppose he is to be brought before the Council?"

"I would suppose so," Freycia says. Which is exactly our plan, she thinks. She wonders how long it will be before the council is congregated and the hearing begins. Sooner, rather than later, she feels. The Observatory would have reported everything in detail, and they will certainly wish to interrogate the warrior as to his true intentions. Freycia, too, expects to be questioned. Foremost will be the spell written by Lady Reari, which she has memorized by heart though she does not intend to reveal its source anytime soon. There is too much in there that could be misused, and the Council knows this. Both those who wish to use it for good, and those for harm.

Perhaps soon I will get to find out which is which, she thinks.

The dungeon, which has fallen silent, now begins to fill with the echoes of the unlocking door and footsteps. Freycia sees Mivil, her eyes clutching a book tightly, make her way down the slimy steps. She looks at Kaelian, bound and sitting in silence in the corner of his cell. Then she turns to Freycia, and smiles.

"Mage Freycia," Mivil says, curtsying. "I am Mivil, scholar and liaison to the Selantran Singers. I...have some questions. Would you mind answering them?"

Freycia nods as she studies her. Mivil's face spoke only of a curious, if not burning, desire for answers and Freycia did not mind satisfying that need.

"How did you do it?" Mivil says, a wide smile on her face.

"You mean, summon him?"

"Yes, yes. Did you find Reari's journal?"

"I did."

"But it is not with you?"

"I was shown it on the condition that I could not borrow it, so no."

"Ah," she says, as if deflating, "and I guess you are not allowed to reveal its location, either?"

"No," Freycia says, "though I do not mind discussing the contents I remember."

"Right then - the summoning spell. Was it difficult?"

"Not really," Freycia says, trying to recall what happened the night before, "all I did was use anchor stones for amplifying my summons. He responded almost immediately, though.."

"Yes? Though?" Mivil says.

"He says when the call reached him, our world had already been destroyed."

"Curious," Sesquine interjects, still lying down though her interest in the conversation was clear.

"This proves it," Mivil says to herself, almost leaping with excitement "that the universe where he comes from operates on a different chronological frame!"

"It seems that is the case. His kind must have far greater magic or technology to accomplish his journey here, of course. He calls it an...Insertion?"

"Ah, if only I could ask him myself," Mivil says. She turns to look at Kaelian, hopeful though disappointed with the thought that this is the closest she will ever be to someone from an entirely different universe.

"Well, the Council will probably do so," Freycia says with a sigh.

"Which reminds me...I have heard that the Council has just convened. Expect to be called up at any moment."

The doors to the dungeons open again, and Mivil excuses herself. Freycia stands up, and taps an earpiece inside her earlobe, given to her by Kaelian.

"Yes?" he says.

"It feels strange talking to you like this. Now I know how mindmages feel."

"This isn't quite telepathy, but close enough. Any news? I'm getting a little bored over here."

"We will be brought forth to the council soon."

"So...let's say your plan works. That won't be exactly a good thing, though right?"

"Yes. We may have to be prepared to leave very quickly."

"Right. Are you afraid of heights?"

"I haven't really had the opportunity to find out. Why?"

"You may get that chance soon. I hear them. Are they here?"

"Yes. And thank you, Kaelian. For helping us."

A larger party of mages filter into the dungeon now, most of them focused on Kaelian. They raise their arms as the gates unlock, and form a bubble that encompass him as he is carefully brought out from a cell.

"Is this really necessary?" Freycia calls out to them. "He has been nothing but harmless."

"He is going to be brought forth to the Council, girl," Vasten says as he walks towards her, opening her cell with a wave of his hand. "Who knows what kind of sorcery he may try then?"

"He is no sorcerer," Freycia says, "in fact I believe he wields no magic at all."

"Then we should be even more careful, while we find out his true intentions."

"I summoned him here, Master. He has made it clear his intentions were to help us."

Vasten motions for Freycia to leave the cell and follow him.

"You too, Sesquine. The Council will deal with you as well."

"Oh?" Sesquine says, yawning, "I suppose I have to thank the lady mage here for expediting their reunion. Two birds with one stone, eh?"

"Feel free to continue rotting in here if you wish," Vasten says.

"Oh well," Sesquine says as she gets up. "I could stretch my legs a little."

The Magicarium's hallways hum with energy, Freycia feels, as she faces her palms out to the walls. Its very structure is imbued with a connection to the Flow, not because it served a useful purpose, but because its architects and engineers wished to show that they could do so. A construct that makes a statement to all the lands that here was the Capital of power. And while the city itself gleams with newly grown edificies, it speaks of a distant past when the Divines still walked the lands.

Indeed, Freycia thinks, I may be walking in the very same hallways that Cor-Rethra did when she and her divine siblings came to deliberate with the Magi. She follows the escort up the stairwells, towards those very same chambers where gods and men once stood.

"What were you thinking," Vasten asks her as the entourage makes their way ponderously towards the Council, "summoning him here?"

"I thought you would have known the answer," Freycia says, "the Western Claw has been destroyed. Countless lives saved in Brea. Would you not have done the same?"

"I would have thought harder, mage, about summoning a person with such power. Imagine if he were to turn around and conquer us? I assume that you have read Reari's writings?"

"I did."

"Then you know what happened centuries ago, when the first of his kind was summoned here."

"Yes. But Reari and the warrior did come to an agreement in the end, did they not?"

"You assume you can tame him with your body," Vasten says, his face contorting in disgust at the thought, "you sorely overestimate yourself."

"I make no estimations nor assumptions, Master."

"Hmph. We'll see if the Council accepts your reasoning."

Freycia looks up in awe as they enter the chambers - the ceilings seem the height of the sky itself - gilded in ornate frescoes that tell of the history of the world, from the creation to the vanishing of the divines and then the dawn of mortal dominion.

They are brought forth to the council, who are arranged in a straight line of forty seats extending from one end of the room to another, their chairs spaced in even intervals. Vasten leaves Freycia and takes his place at one of the empty seats. Some of them remain empty, though a full attendance is not necessary for a Congregate. Only a majority is needed to achieve a quorum, and Freycia counts around thirty.

"Let him see and speak," Vasten says, and the mages guarding Kaelian obey. The white sheath of magic dissolves and Freycia looks as he squints at being able to see once more.

"Greetings," he says, "warrior of the stars, at your service."

"He speaks like a Rethraci," one of them murmurs.

Freycia clears her throat and speaks, "If I may, councilmember, I allowed him to share of my knowledge which is how he is able to speak our tongue. He has generously agreed to assist us in the war with the Agrestal."

A woman stands to speak, and Freycia looks down. Uthara, the youngest but the most powerful of the high mages, leaves her seat and walks to Kaelian. She hovers her palms above his face. Reading his thoughts and mind.

"Impressive. You have closed yourself off to my Sight."

"Sorry, I'm just a little uncomfortable around telepaths," Kaelian says, a sheepish smile on his face. Uthara seems less than amused, and sits back down.

"He hides something," she concludes.

"Of course," a member at the far end says, "he seeks his own dominion. A vanguard for the invasion."

"That is a common misconception," Kaelian says with a shake of his head, "but entirely understandable. We have no interest in subjugation. Far from it. In fact the very purpose of our...guild, is to liberate planets."

"And yet," Vasten interjects, "the previous one who came bound one of our own, subjugated her for his own means."

"Allow me to clarify," Freycia says, "Reari made it clear that the warrior she summoned acted on his own accord, contrary to his own masters' wishes. In the end he still fulfilled his responsibility and..."

"We know the history," Vasten says, "and yet it is clear that we do not know whether he serves for his guild'...or on his own will."

"I suppose," Kaelian says, "you have to take my word for it."

"Hah!" Another member says. Freycia turns to see who it is, and sees an elderly man clothed in Cerathian garb. "Your word is worthless. Your actions have only brought escalation to this war. I say send him back to where he came from!"

A murmur of agreement erupts from the seated council members. Vasten sits in silence, though Uthara still seems eager to find out more. Freycia closes her eyes. For the past few minutes she has been scanning the auras of everyone in the room, searching. It has to be one of them, she says to herself, it has to be. Each individual emanates a tone, a color, and she scans each and everyone for irregularities. Being a completely passive ability, it is not something that would attract the attention of the mages among them.

And then, she finds it. Seated next to the Cerathian is a woman who stares with a blank expression, as if bored out of her mind. Her eyes, Freycia notes, has the look of a puppet. She is from the Cerathian contingent. Freycia takes a deep breath, and takes a gamble. Flaring her magic, she sends her flow into the woman, probing deep into her innermost body. Freycia gasps.

The woman explodes into a dark smoke that swells to the ceiling, a column of blackness that causes the council members around to scatter in terror. Then it shoots out, thousands of tendrils forming into ensnaring vines that capture the hapless victims around the room.

"Kaelian!" Freycia shouts and he nods, armor forming over his body as he poises to battle the Abyssal.

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To be continued...