The Jade Mage: The Becoming: Volume 1 (34 page)

Jeth’s pain filled scream was cut unnaturally short, and Tartum felt the weight on his staff increase as Jeth lost consciousness, and his body went limp. Through the magic, Tartum vaguely registered a stunned inhale from Vaund and a gasp from Rashlarr. Tartum felt something wet splash onto his head and shoulder. Shifting his weight, Tartum allowed Jeth’s unconscious body to continue in its path over him, and using the momentum, threw his body to the floor. Tartum felt an odd suction as he pulled his staff away but thought nothing of it. Hearing Jeth’s body hit the ground behind him was all the confirmation he needed. He had finally beaten Jeth.

The glory of his victory was too much. With the magic still flowing inside him it felt like he had just single handedly broken a siege. This victory over Jeth was more rewarding than his victory over Isidor had been. Raising his hands over his head, Tartum roared a magically enhanced victory scream that shook the room. The world felt like it was spinning, but he didn’t care. Finally being able to look down on Jeth’s broken form was an experience Tartum had been fantasizing about for weeks. Turning around with a wide grin of satisfaction, Tartum gazed upon his victim.

What he saw made him lose his concentraion, and the magic left him immediately.

Vaund was cradling Jeth’s head in his lap. His hands were on either side of his face, and he was chanting his odd healing words faster than Tartum had ever heard him speak before. There was an urgency in his voice that confirmed what he had assumed. Jeth was dying. Tartum’s final blow hadn’t hit Jeth in the chest or stomach, like he thought. He had hit him in the face. From the looks of the wound, his staff had contacted him directly in his swollen cheekbone, just below his right eye. The force burst open the flesh and shattered the cheekbone underneath. The following thrust had embedded the blunted tip of his staff directly into Jeth’s right eye. The socket where his eye had once been was a gory mess. Now, the odd suction he felt, as he’d pulled his staff free, made sense. Looking at his shoulder, Tartum saw a white fluid that was mixed with blood. Tartum tried to wipe it off, but was momentarily stunned by the texture. It was a thick, almost gooey liquid, that peeled off him like a paste, rather than a fluid. Feeling the top of his head, Tartum peeled more of the pasty fluid off of his head. His finishing move had pulverized Jeth’s right eye, and it had rained down on him.

The room stopped spinning. Everything around him stopped moving. Tartum was staring at the scene before him, waiting for his brain to make sense of everything. He waited, staring at Vaund. He looked scared, Tartum wondered if it was because he truly cared about Jeth, or if it was because he was worried he’d get in trouble if Jeth died. Tartum looked up at Rashlarr, he was looking down at Jeth’s ruined face but showed no emotion. It was as if Rashlarr knew the outcome of this fight before it started. Tartum looked down at Jeth’s ruined face and waited for the guilt and the shame to overwhelm him like he knew it should. The feelings never came.

Tartum hadn’t been this proud of himself since the day he enchanted his staff. He realized, he didn’t care if Jeth lived or died. In fact, he found himself hoping for the latter. This arrogant, irritating, compassionless asshole had been a cancer to him ever since he joined this guild. He had never shown any sign of human decency and had humiliated him every chance he got. In fact, he had brought Tartum to the brink of death on numerous occasions and would have left him to die had it not been for Vaund.

“
Let the man die
.” Tartum thought. “
I dont need anything else from him
.”

With his peace made with the reality around him, Tartum sat down to watch Vaund work. Time began to move forward again, and Tartum was filled with an odd detached feeling. It was like the whole scene was being played out for him on a stage. He watched, as Vaund’s magic stopped the flow of blood coming out of Jeth’s face. He marveled when Vaund cast a spell that mended Jeth’s shattered cheekbone right in front of him and gasped in wonder as the flesh grew back at an unnatural speed. Tartum wondered if his wounds had looked like that when Vaund healed him. After a few minutes, Jeth’s face looked perfectly healthy, with the exception of the gaping hole where his eye used to be. Tartum waited for Vaund to regrow the eye. He was curious to see how that was done and leaned forward to watch. He assumed it was the next step, because the color of Jeth’s flesh was healthy again, and his breathing was regular and strong. Tartum felt a slight twinge of regret that Jeth was going to survive this. He worried about the repercussions. Seeing Vaund tear a piece of his shirt off and fashion a crude bandage over Jeth’s eye, Tartum was confused.

“Aren’t you going to repair his eye, Vaund?” Tartum asked.

Vaund gave Tartum a look like he had forgotten he was there. He looked at Tartum and sighed sadly. “I can stop the bleeding and mend the flesh, I can regrow shattered bones and mend cartiledge, I can even bring a drown man back to life, if he hasn’t stopped breathing for long, but, I cannot regrow complicated body parts, like eyes or brains. Healing magic like that is beyond me. There are few in the world that could manage anything like it, and those that can would never grant this man his sight again. You’ve taken Jeth’s eye and with it, half his vision.” Vaund looked disgusted. “I hope you’re proud of yourself.” Without waiting for a reply, Vaund picked up Jeth’s unconscious form and carried him out of the room.

Tartum sat there, going over what Vaund had said. He couldn’t heal Jeth’s injury. He would forever be blind on his right side. Everytime he looked in the mirror, he would remember Tartum’s name and the pain he had caused him. Jeth was forever scarred by him and would be reminded of it every time he looked in the mirror. Tartum wondered how many people in the world were reminded of Jeth when they looked in the mirror. How many men and women he had scarred for life. Then Tartum thought of Vaund’s parting words.
I hope you’re proud of yourself
.

Tartum couldn’t think of a time in his life when he had felt more proud of himself! It felt great to know that there was at least some justice left in the world. Grinning, Tartum stood up. He looked up at Rashlarr to find him looking at him, studying him. He seemed to still be waiting for him to do something. Tartum shrugged.

“I guess I’ll take tomorrow off.” He said to Rashlarr happily. Rashlarr looked at him and only nodded. Whatever was going on in his head, Tartum could only guess. He didn’t appear upset with him, but he didn’t appear happy or impressed with him either. Rashlarr was a complete blank at the moment. He didn’t care. Tartum wasn’t going to allow anything to sour his hard won victory.

Wiping the blood and gore off his beloved staff, Tartum walked out of the combat room and headed for his quarters. It had been almost a month since he’d had the energy to spend any time with his spellbook. He’d had to spend every waking moment planning how to defeat Jeth. Now that goal was accomplished, Tartum found he couldn’t wait to get back to his studies. He decided that spending the rest of the day with his spell book was just the reprieve he needed.

...

The next morning Tartum was relaxing in his room, reading his spell book. Vaund never came by to heal his wounds, so Tartum had done his best to bandage himself. It had been a while since he’d had to tend his own injuries, and he looked like a piecemeal mummy. Numerous bloodsoaked bandages around his arms and torso gave the impression he had been in a fight in which he had lost, rather than won. He awoke feeling stiff and sore from head to toe. He never realized just how much better Vaund’s magical healing was compared to natural healing.

He had his feet up on the table and was reading over his spells. He wanted to refresh his memory over the pronunciation of each one. He was worried that being a month out of practice would make him rusty, and that was the last thing he wanted to be in this place. Tartum was so focused with his studies that he never heard Savall enter his room.

“I see you find your room to your liking.” Savall said.

Jumping at the unexpected sound, Tartum stood up somewhat stiffly and faced him. Tartum had been worried he might get in trouble with Savall after almost killing Jeth. He had planned his explanation last night as he lay in bed. Now that he was face to face with the man, he found the explanation slipping from his mind. He couldn’t figure out why he felt so nervous. Jeth had been torturing him for a month. Had almost killed him numerous times. He finally gets the upper hand, and Savall is going to punish him? Tartum’s anger began to rise.

Regaining his confidence, Tartum stood in front of Savall ready to defend himself and his actions. If he was to be punished for his victory then so be it. Just because they were playing favorites was no reason for him to feel ashamed of what he had done. Let it be a lesson to his next instructor for all he cared. Looking Savall directly in the eyes, Tartum responded.

“It’s actually quite comfortable once you get used to it.” Tartum said. His confidence spilling into his words. Tartum noted Savall was in his plate armor as always but that his sword was missing. Maybe he wasn’t in trouble after all. Tartum assumed they would have sent more than one person if he was to be punished. Wouldn’t they have the sense to send more than just one old man that was unarmed to disipline him? Tartum couldn’t help but feel on edge and prepared to open himself to the magic.

Savall seemed to sense the tension in Tartum and smiled his grandfatherly smile. Waving his hand, he tried to calm him. “Relax son, I’m not here to scold you for what happened to Jeth. It’s part of the risk that comes with training a new recruit. You’re a wild card. We have no idea what to expect. Rashlarr and Vaund both told me what happened. You did not aim for his eye on purpose. Even if you did, it wouldn’t have mattered. No one begrudges you for Jeth’s injury. Hells, a few people might want to shake your hand. However, I’d steer clear of him for a while. He’s not happy with you.” Savall said. He sounded quite amused with the whole situation.

The thought of Jeth attempting to take his revenge worried Tartum. He decided to voice his concern to Savall. “So I can expect retaliation, then?” He asked.

Savall looked insulted. “What was it I told you when you first awoke after the Null Box. You’re not to seek revenge for something that happened during your training. Jeth knows this and will not seek revenge. If he does, a far worse fate than starvation in a dark room awaits him.” Savall seemed to be thinking of something, suddenly. But after a moment, he shook his head to clear the thought and continued. “He will not seek revenge. I promise you this. I only advise you to leave him alone for the same reason I advised him to stay away from you while you recovered from the box. You understand.” It wasn’t a question. Tartum knew Savall was letting him know he should understand and accept it.

Tartum nodded his understanding. Savall’s smile grew with the acknowledgement.

“Excellent! Excellent, my boy! So, you’re all trained up on hand-to-hand combat. The next step will be unique to your skills. It’s a new technique we just started teaching to our members with magical ability. We’re going to have you learn how to dodge missiles.” Savall said. He seemed very excited about this. Tartum didn’t understand.

“Dodge missiles?” he asked.

Savall’s smile never faltered. “That’s right son! That’s right! Allow me to demonstrate.” Without warning, Savall produced an apple from behind his back and threw it at Tartum. Tartum saw the attack and tried to get out of the way, but the apple hit him directly in the chest. The impact tore open a gash he had bandaged earlier. The pain shot through him, and he braced himself against the table. Waiting for the pain to pass, he looked up at Savall. He was still grinning from ear to ear.

“Why...did you...do that...?” he asked, through clenched teeth.

Savall was chuckling. “To show you my point. You’re a caster, Tartum. You need uninterrupted time to cast your spells. In order to stop this, an individual will throw things at you or try to kill you at range. We’ve lost a few of you to ranged attacks over the years, and so Elizabeth developed a way for your kind to defend against them. She’s really quite clever. By the time she’s done with you, nothing but the luckiest of shots will be able to scratch you. Come, get dressed, Elizabeth is waiting for you in the combat room.” With that, Savall walked out. Tartum’s compliance was assumed.

Catching his breath and gritting his teeth against the pain and soreness, Tartum put on his shirt and retrieved his staff. The idea of being able to dodge attacks sounded good, but he didn’t like the idea of becoming a bulls-eye in order to learn the skill. He had the uneasy feeling that Elizabeth wouldn’t be throwing apples at him. Still, the prospect of leanring the ability, not to mention seeing Elizabeth, was enough to motivate him. Whipping his staff around with a quick flourish, Tartum walked outside his room to join Savall.

Savall’s smile returned the moment Tartum joined him. He put his arm around him, and together they walked towards the combat room.

“Oh, and whatever you do, try not to take out either of Lizzy’s eyes. They’re very pretty, and I don’t know if I could stop her from killing you, if you hurt her like that. A woman scorned and all.” Savall laughed.

Tartum smiled and nervously laughed at the joke. “I’ll do my best, Boss.” He said.

“I know you will, son. Seriously though, don’t hurt her. This isn’t an offensive exercise for you, this is a defensive one. You may get hurt but she shouldn’t. Understood?” Savall asked. His voice was all business, and Tartum had to swallow before he could reply.