Severance Lost (Fractal Forsaken Series Book 1) Read online

  Slate looked at the group. Lucus was one of two wizards he had met who seemed to have his best interests at heart, and the second was currently in the infirmary. Rainier had foreign habits and beliefs compared to the people of Pillar, but had so far proven to be a good friend. Similarly, Sana had offered to help test his hand and had healed him. With all the uncertainties and troubles he was wrestling with in his mind, he needed to discuss and make some sense out of them. This seemed like the best group in which to place his trust. He asked a question that had been bothering him during Lucus’ explanation.

  “You said a wizard can’t feel magic, but you have my memories. You know that I felt every probe, healing spell, or other conjuring people have used on me in the last few days. Is that normal?”

  The only noise that could be heard was the crackling of the campfire and the spitting of the meat as it roasted. “That is not normal. I have never heard of someone with that ability, but what it means, I can’t say. I know you have questions, but I do not have answers for you.” Lucus finally responded.

  Sana processed the information the fastest. “I’ve used magic for years and it is uncomfortable to use something so powerful and not have any feeling associated with it. Does all magic feel the same?”

  “Everyone’s magic feels a little different,” Slate said, “but it is difficult to describe. It can be warm and soothing, like when you healed me, or it can be a thunderhead waiting to light up the sky. Sometimes the feelings are far worse…” How could he describe the feeling of being stripped naked from the inside or having your memories ripped out of your head?

  Lucus finished for Slate. “Slate endured more than just broken ribs in the past few days. He will describe the experiences when he is ready.” This quieted any further questions, but it didn’t stop Rainier from stealing confused glances at Slate throughout dinner. Slate wished he understood the tribesman better…his look had definite meaning, but its meaning was lost upon Slate.

  It was a quiet camp that evening as the group laid to rest. Slate stared sleeplessly at the night’s stars and decided a walk in the woods would help clear his head. He stepped through camp, but Sana must have been fighting a similar bout with insomnia and joined him. She walked silently and companionably at his side while Slate tried to comprehend Lucus’ revelation. Finally, she stopped and looked him in the eyes. “I don’t know what you and Lucus experienced in Ravinai. I can’t make the memories go away,” she took his bandaged hand and lifted it up, “but I can ease your pain.” She probed his hand and healed the wound from Rainier’s blade.

  Slate studied Sana’s face and saw concern for him masking her own pain. “My father said painful memories aren’t meant to be erased. They motivate us to right our past wrongs. We need to learn from them without letting them change who we are. I will not let the past define the person I will become and neither will you. I don’t know what you have been through, but you have demonstrated honesty and compassion to me.” Slate wrapped Sana in his arms, but she gently pushed away. “Your intuition is sharper than your wits, Slate Severance. My life is complicated in ways I hope you never understand.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  AN ALLY LEAVES

  A comfortable pattern of testing, combat training, and evening campfire tales developed while travelling to Pillar. The repetition put Slate at ease with his traveling companions, but he stayed silent on the topics weighing heaviest on his mind. Who was responsible for turning his hand to stone during the tournament? Was it the same person that hurt Ibson? Which guild would he choose? Slate thought of these issues constantly, but answers eluded him.

  Through Sana’s efforts, Slate learned his hand could support large amounts of weight but only for a short duration. He could withstand a direct hit from a blade but not without slicing his hand to the bone. Sana created a test that bent his hand, hypothesizing that stone was susceptible to fracture when bent or put into tension. Thankfully, the two materials worked well together, and the flexibility of the bone prevented fracture of the stone.

  Sana’s tests also resulted in a newfound hatred for swimming. Sana insisted he swim in a creek to determine if his hand’s added weight made it difficult. It didn’t take long to give her an answer. Unfortunately, his admission only sparked Sana’s curiosity and led to a whole host of tests. How long could Slate tread water? How much could he carry while treading water? Slate decided the boulder dropping on his hand was preferable to another swimming test.

  His time with Rainier was educational as well. The tribesman taught him new forms and techniques, particularly improving Slate’s proficiency in the short sword. In return, Slate created two staffs from tree branches and trained Rainier in his favorite style of fighting. They also found that, unlike fighting with short swords, his hand offered considerable advantages when wielding the staff. The staff was quick, had a long reach, and a large surface for deflecting opponent’s blows, but it was less effective against heavy armor or defensive tactics. Slate could use the staff to occupy his opponent’s defenses and then strike a pounding blow with his fist. Rainier didn’t have heavy armor to test their new techniques, but the strategy seemed sound. Slate’s incorporation of his stonehand into his fighting style highlighted his lack of progress in the intricacies of Stratego. Despite numerous efforts and thoroughly laid plans, Rainier retained possession of the medallion.

  Lucus continued his role as guide and fountain of knowledge concerning Malethya, but he became more reclusive and eccentric as the days went on. Animals began appearing near him, most of which were of the shelled variety: snails, turtles, beetles and the like. The animals were around for a while and then would leave, seemingly of their own accord. Then one day Lucus ran into a strand of spider silk strung between trees. The rest of the trip, spider webs appeared in multitudes, starting in a typical circular pattern and then changing into miniaturized, tightly woven, and complex patterns. Slate gave the wizard his space.

  This was the way of things as the forest ground became rocky and the trees became sparse. After weeks of walking, they were only a few days’ from Pillar. In late afternoon, the group set up camp at Lucus’ order. He requested Rainier and Slate forego their nightly training in lieu of a discussion around the fire. He didn’t waste time with pleasantries.

  “I will leave in the morning. I promised Ibson to escort you safely from Ravinai and you are now within two day’s walk to Pillar. My obligation is fulfilled and the circumstances surrounding Ibson have weighed greatly on me. I wish to return to Ravinai to speak with Ibson in the hopes he has a moment of clarity. If he has not recovered, I will conduct research into Ibson’s comments prior to his incident. They related to the investigation of Slate, but I feel the culprit is the same in both instances. I would share Ibson’s comments with you now, limiting my conversation to topics shared with me by Ibson. Slate, I will not discuss information gained from your memories.”

  The whole group was taken by surprise. Slate had become accustomed to travelling with Lucus, and it never crossed Slate’s mind that he might leave. “I wish you would continue with us, but Ibson deserves justice for what happened to him on my account. I’ve avoided discussing the events of the tournament, but I agree it is time.”

  Lucus began with Ibson’s insights, “Slate met with relatively few people during the tournament and Ibson interviewed all of them, save the Sicarius headmaster. Ibson probed Slate’s hand and found iron had fused with his bones, as you know, but there was a discrepancy he kept hidden. Everyone has iron in their blood, but the amount of iron in Slate’s hand was too great to be the only source.”

  Slate asked Rainier to show the stratego medallion to the group. “When the Sicarius headmaster gave that to me, it was a mixture of stone and iron. When Ibson returned it to me following my recovery, the iron was gone.”

  Lucus explained, “Yes, Ibson was highly interested in the Stratego medallion because it was tied to your arm during the match. As you’ve seen with my axe, objects can have enchantments. One possi
bility is that the Stratego medallion released a spell during your match. The headmaster only needed to know the time of the championship bout and to ensure your contact with the medallion.”

  Sana questioned that possibility. “Why would the Sicarius headmaster interfere with the tournament or be interested in Slate? What would Sicarius have to gain?”

  Lucus shook his head. “I don’t know and neither did Ibson. Regardless, that was only one possible explanation and there are several problems with it. The most pertinent is that magic is taught in Ispirtu. Students with the spark are not given the opportunity to join Bellator or Sicarius. While I have no doubt the headmaster possesses the skills to obtain a rare magical artifact such as the one we speak, without the spark or aid from someone in Ispirtu, it would be useless.”

  Sana continued her systematic deductions. “Does that rule out Villifor then?”

  “He does not contain the spark, but Bellator works closely with Ispirtu. Ispirtu wizards are incorporated into the ranks of Bellator Guardsmen to care for the wounded or attack if needed. Since the Sicarius headmaster gave you the medallion after your meeting with Villifor, the order of events would seemingly absolve the Bellator headmaster of guilt, but Ibson did not rule him out of his investigation. The Sicarius headmaster gave you the Stratego medallion with a note while you were incapacitated and anyone could have switched the medallion before you awoke, framing the Sicarius headmaster.”

  “Brannon cast the spells to detect magic in the championship bout. Could he have tampered with the fight?”

  “…this is a disturbing possibility. Brannon met you after receipt of the medallion and could have enchanted it prior to the match. Brannon possesses the ability to do so, but a motive is unclear. His pride in the Regallo name is well-known. He wouldn’t cast a spell that damaged Lattimer’s chances of victory. Similarly, Lattimer has the spark, but he did not meet with you prior to the match and if he cast the enchantment spell during the bout, a number of wizards within the arena would have detected it.”

  “Ibson’s investigation seemed to end with countless possibilities but few conclusions.” Rainier generalized.

  “Ibson’s efforts mean you need to be wary of all the headmasters. Their games of power and politicking have, for whatever reason, involved you. You are like the pollen of the catalpa trees that I sent into the air, tumbling among the clouds and hoping to land in a distant grove to lay your roots. Learn quickly, Slate, before the soil turns barren and the weeds choke you out.” Silence fell over the group as the generally optimistic wizard spoke these ominous words. “I have not yet shared the last and most dangerous possibility. Slate’s incident may not have been caused by the medallion or the headmasters but by a mage of the worst sort.”

  Sana, the wizard’s apprentice, understood the reference. “What you suggest is no longer possible. There hasn’t been a mage of that sort in ages.”

  “It is possible…simply forgotten. Slate, do you recall that magic consists of two parts, the spark and the pattern? Wizards blend these two components in varying amounts to create similar spells. You probably noticed that my spark dims in comparison to Brannon or Sana. However, I have spent my life studying the complex patterns of nature, which allows me to cast powerful spells. Brannon relies heavily upon his spark to cast complex spells with only loose associations to related patterns.” Slate failed to see how this lesson pertained to their situation, but he trusted the point of the story was coming if he remained quiet. “The probing spell detects changes in your body’s pattern. The safeguards to prevent magic in the tournament are similar. A wizard can detect magic because the patterns used to cast a spell are the wizard’s interpretation of the pattern and are inherently wrong. The spark is used to bridge the gap between the true pattern and the wizard’s interpretation of it. We cannot detect the spark used to cast a spell, but a trained wizard detects magic by association with changes in the pattern surrounding a wizard. When a spell is cast, the pattern surrounding a wizard is disturbed. Do you see where I am going with this?”

  Slate could not but guessed because Lucus expected a response. “Well, in order to avoid detection, a spell would need to call a pattern perfectly or be called without the pattern.” Rainier clenched his jaw, apparently knowing how this story would end. Slate needed to wait for the explanation.

  “Precisely. Calling the pattern without the spark is impossible because the pattern is too complex. It consists of all patterns in the body, nature, and time. However, a wizard named Cantor discovered a means to cast spells using only the spark. He shared his discovery with some of his trusted colleagues and the Golden Ages of Malethya began. Without being constrained by the pattern, the wizards could bestow properties to people and objects that were previously unimaginable. The hungry were fed by changing basic grain into vast feasts for the populace. Money was plentiful as the wizards turned iron into gold when needed. Eventually, the limitless power corrupted the wizards, leading to wars conducted and won by the cruelest creations of the wizard’s imaginations. Cantor watched as his discovery created nefarious tools of destruction. Rain was enchanted to enflame anything it landed upon. Minds were twisted and enslaved or subjugated. People lived in fear of the death and destruction wrought around them, bestowing the name Blood Mages upon the wizards in power.

  “Cantor decided the world would be better off without spark-based magic. He invited his former colleagues to celebrate the anniversary of his discovery. At dinner, he raised a toast and everyone praised his brilliance. The enchanted wine coated the stomachs and warmed the spirits of the Blood Mages, right before they convulsed and died as the wine-tasting arsenic took effect. Cantor destroyed any evidence or accounts of spark-based magic and left a note. It said,

  The world of man will be at peace when we cease our attempts to control it and understand our place within it. My discovery drove pious and studious wizards into corruption and greed. Their actions left me no recourse but one that leaves me most aggrieved. While the people recover from the terror that has enveloped the land, I can only hope they forgive me. Bless you all. I will remain indebted to society for longer than the perimeter of a two dimensional fractal.

  Cantor was never found and, as years passed, his story and discoveries were largely forgotten outside the world of wizards. Indeed, the only remaining parts of this story in common lore have manifested themselves as campfire stories and as a formal blessing. “Fractal’s pattern” and “fractal’s fortune” are spoken as good tidings and to prevent ill omens. “Blood mages” remain popular villains for local storytellers. Before his fall in the arena, Ibson speculated that if a blood mage cast a spark-based spell, it would go undetected and implicate one of the headmasters. He said it was probably the fears of an aging mind, but if something unnatural happened to him, I was to investigate it more seriously, so I must leave now that you are safe in Pillar.”

  Headmasters, magic, blood mages…Slate had enough. “You warn of an evil as limitless as the imagination and in the next breath you tell us you are leaving?”Lucus sighed, “I am leaving, but I am not leaving you empty handed.”

  The woodcutter reached in his travel sack and produced a simple leather glove Slate recognized as his own. “I have been thinking of ways to protect the soft tissues of your hand. After your first training session with Rainier, I thought the most practical application would be a glove that allowed you to catch a blade during battle.”

  Now Slate was interested.

  “At first I studied the patterns of animals such as snails and beetles that create a hard shell for protection. Unfortunately, their shells cracked or shattered if a large enough force was applied. Then I ran into a spider web. The silk clung to my face and although I could peel it away, it remained intact. After playing with several different variations, I found the silk could be woven into a tight pattern, creating an extremely strong and lightweight fabric of sorts…you may have noticed some interesting spider webs in the past few weeks. I wove the silk pattern into your leather
glove trying to match the pattern and blending of the iron with your bones. Would you care to test it?”

  Rainier didn’t wait for Slate to answer. He jumped up and wielded a short sword. When Slate had placed his hand within the glove, Rainier unloaded a powerful overhead blow. Slate grabbed the blade in midair and managed to bring it to a stop. The force of the blow was felt through his entire arm, but when he let go of the blade, he saw the glove was still intact. More importantly, so was his hand.

  Rainier smiled. “How do I get one?”

  Lucus chuckled. “It wouldn’t do you any good. The glove is able to prevent the blade from cutting into Slate’s hand, but it is the stone in his bones that absorbs the force. If you tried to use the glove to catch a blade, it would prevent your hand from cutting, but your bones would be crushed.”

  Slate wanted nothing more than to train with Rainier that instant, but he came to his senses. Lucus would leave in the morning and he needed to soak up all the knowledge he could from the wizard before his departure. He was making a mental list of questions for Lucus when the wizard cut him short. “I have told you what I know of the headmasters, the investigation, and blood mages. I have given you all the help I can offer for the trials ahead in the form of your glove. Let us spend the rest of our time as friends do, with tales and spirits.” The wizard then pulled out a bottle from his traveling sack, drank and passed it around the campfire, surprising his friends and signaling the beginning of the night’s end.