FIERCE: Sixteen Authors of Fantasy Read online

  ~Marcus the Heretic,

  On the Nature of Faith and Magic

  I had been to the library before, when Marc first undertook to improve my education. My parents had taught me to read at a young age, but the finer arts of geometry and grammar were beyond them. I think he dragged me along at first to provide a distraction from the work his tutor had set for him, but over time it became clear I had a real knack for language and mathematics. Later the Duchess encouraged Marc to invite me, since his progress greatly improved when I was involved. As a result, I was probably the best educated peasant ever to emerge from Lancaster.

  Still, the Duke’s library was one of the best in the kingdom, and neither of us really knew the extent and breadth of the volumes it contained. Being young, we just started searching titles hoping to find something relevant. Marc started thumbing through histories hoping to find some mention of past wizards, while I wound up getting bogged down in an herbal compendium. I always had a weakness for plants. Eventually I broke away from that and began searching again. Then Marc called me back.

  “Hey Mort, I found something!” It turned out to be a history of the university at Albamarl, which is the capital of Lothion. “According to this, the university used to have a college of magic,” he said.

  “Is it still there?” I asked.

  “No, apparently there was a plague, and rumors got around that the wizards had something to do with it. The college was destroyed by an angry mob. Looks like most of the faculty were burned at the stake.”

  “Why do I want to be a wizard again?”

  “Because it’s terribly impressive! And otherwise how will I ever find a magical counselor when I become duke?” He gave me one of his famously charming grins.

  “Your father doesn’t have a ‘magical counselor’” I replied.

  “Only because there are none to be found anymore, my grandfather had one though. Oh, look here! You aren’t a wizard after all!” That got my attention. “According to this you’re a mage,” explained Marc.

  “What’s the difference?”

  “Anyone with a moderate amount of latent ability is a mage, a wizard is a mage who’s been educated and has learned to harness his powers properly.”

  I laughed, “So I’m ignorant! We knew that already.” We skimmed through the rest of the book but as to the fate of the wizards who survived the burning of the college, there was nothing to be found.

  “Let’s keep looking, I know Vestrius kept some books here somewhere,” Marc said.

  “Vestrius?” I asked.

  “Grandfather’s pet wizard,” Marc answered.

  I was making a slow tour of the shelves, when I noticed something odd. Back near the corner, beside one of the wooden bookcases, was a faintly glowing symbol. “Hey come check this out,” I called. Then I reached forward to touch it. A moment later I found myself sitting at a reading table back in the front room of the library. Marc was looking at me oddly.

  “What the hell is wrong with you?” he said.

  “Why?”

  Exasperated he went on, “A moment ago you called me over to that side room where the grammars are kept, and then you just walked out and sat down over here with nary a word of explanation, that’s why!”

  “I did?” Confusion had become my regular companion these past few days.

  “The legends of absentminded wizards are seeming truer every day,” he replied. “Come on, let’s see what you forgot, professor dimwit.” We got up and went back into the small side chamber that he said I had called to him from.

  Looking around for a few minutes, I spotted the glowing rune again, “Hello what’s this?” I reached out to touch it again. A moment later I found myself sitting at the reading table again. Marc was sitting across from me with a bemused expression.

  “I’ll start by saying you are never going to cut it as a mage or whatever if you keep touching strange wards,” he said.

  “Weren’t we just in here a bit ago?”

  “There’s the great mind I’ve come to respect. Welcome back Mordecai, master of the obvious!” Sarcasm was not one of his more becoming qualities. Now that I think on it, it’s probably not one of mine either. He quickly explained what had happened, so we went back to take another look.

  This time I didn’t touch the rune, “Can you see it?” I asked him.

  “No.”

  “Try touching it and see what happens,” I suggested.

  “Not a chance, what if I forgot something important!”

  “Like what?”

  “Like maybe the first time I lay with a woman!” Marc answered.

  “What the heck? When did that happen? You’re not a virgin anymore?” I was stunned.

  “And you are?” he replied, arching his eyebrows.

  “Shut up, let’s get back to business.” I stared at the rune while he chuckled behind me. Finally I tried something different. Holding my hand out, I brought it near the rune but didn’t touch it. As it came near to the glow, I could feel a pressure growing in my mind. Forget. A faint whispering came to me, but I held firm. Taking a deep breath, I tried to exert a pressure similar to the one I felt, only directed outward, back at the rune. For several long moments I could feel a tension building, not only in my mind but in the air around me, then the world exploded.

  I found myself lying on my back with Marc looming over me holding a pry bar. “You are either the stupidest or the luckiest bastard I’ve ever known,” he said. I sat up and looked at the spot where the symbol had been. It was notably absent, but a scorched area marred the wall now.

  “Where’d you get the pry bar?”

  “I went to get it before I knew you were trying to blow yourself up. Give me a hand, there’s an iron ring behind the spot where that magical doodad was.” He let me put my hand on it first, and then when it was apparent that nothing else was going to explode, he helped me to pull. We tugged for a few seconds, and then the paneling opened along a seam, revealing a small cupboard. Inside were three leather bound books. The first two were about ten inches on a side and about an inch thick. The third was massive, fully eighteen inches tall and three or four inches thick. It was covered in glowing symbols and the only part of it I could read was the title, A Grammar of Lycian. The other two were untitled.

  Marc started to reach in, but I put my hand on his arm, “Don’t.” He glanced at me then withdrew his hand. Carefully I reached in and pulled out the two smaller books; since they weren’t glowing I guessed they might be safe. I left the other behind.

  “Is it warded?” Marc asked.

  “It has something all over it, and it glows like a bonfire.” After some discussion, we closed the panel and left the larger book inside. Hopefully I would learn enough to peruse it safely later. It was getting late, so we decided to quit for the evening. I took the two books with me to my room.

  “Promise me you won’t look at them without me.” Marc had a serious expression. “If something happens while you’re reading one of them, someone should be around to drag you away or put out the fire.”

  I met his gaze and tried to be serious, “Don’t worry, I’ll wait.” A dozen smart ass comments ran through my head, but for a change I kept them to myself.

  Once I was safely ensconced in my room I began examining the books. I had initially intended to keep my promise, but curiosity had gotten the better of me. Since nothing had happened after opening the covers I figured I might as well see what I could discover. The first book turned out to be a journal, written by Vestrius himself. The second seemed to be some sort of book of spells. Most of it was written in the common tongue, but interspersed were glowing words and symbols I had no experience with. It also contained a lot of diagrams. As soon as I saw the glowing parts I decided it should wait, so I returned to the journal.

  My decision turned out to be the correct one. Unlike most journals in which someone writes their daily thoughts and such, this one turned out to be more like a lab notebook. Vestrius had been apprenticed as a teenager t
o another wizard, named Grummond. The first task he had been given was the keeping of a journal to record what he learned each day. I could not imagine anything more useful to me at this point. I began to read.

  Vestrius’ first days as an apprentice were quite illuminating for me, and made it clear to me what the importance of the third book was. A Grammar of Lycian was exactly that, a book detailing the grammar and vocabulary of Lycian, a long extinct language. The journal also made clear why the book glowed. Wizards are taught to use language, written and verbal, to manifest their power. Since using one’s native tongue would be dangerous in the extreme, the custom was to use a dead language. Lycian had become the de facto language of magic hundreds of years ago and knowledge of it was maintained for that purpose only. Because of its long use, even the writing had acquired a sort of residual power, which could prove dangerous sometimes, even in the hands of those without the gift, but to a much lesser degree.

  I resolved to collect the third book the next day; I would need to study it if I was to follow along with Vestrius’ journal.

  Chapter IV

  THE SECOND CHARACTERISTIC IS CALLED ‘emittance’ and refers to the rate or ability of a person to channel a given quantity of aythar. Unlike capacitance, emittance is not a universal trait in all human beings. Some persons, popularly called ‘stoics’, have no emittance whatsoever, and as a result are unable to use, sense or manipulate magic in any way. Luckily such persons are rare, most likely occurring at a rate of no more than one or two persons per hundred. One beneficial side effect of this is that stoics are impossible to manipulate in more subtle ways, such as via enchantments or other magics affecting the mind or spirit. This makes them invaluable in certain roles, particularly in judicial settings. They are of course, still susceptible to other forms of magic, but no more so than any other physical being or object would be.

  The vast majority of humanity has a very low emittance, such that, without extensive training or exposure, they are largely unable to manipulate aythar to any significant extent. Similarly, they have difficulty even perceiving things which are purely magical in nature. Such persons are able to use magical devices, and with extensive training even use some aythar directly, but to a very limited degree.

  ~Marcus the Heretic,

  On the Nature of Faith and Magic

  I awoke to sunshine streaming in through the open window. Squinting at the bright light, I attempted to cover my head with one of the decorative pillows that I had shoved to the side the night before. Someone snatched it away from me.

  “For the love of all that’s holy!” I burrowed under the covers, seeking to hide from the light. I had never been a particularly late sleeper, but I had stayed up till nearly dawn the night before. Someone else had different ideas, and I found myself struggling to keep the covers up while my assailant tried to peel them back.

  “Oh no you don’t! Mordecai Eldridge you wake up this instant! I’m done covering for you this morning, you’ve already missed your meeting with the Duke, and if you think…”

  “What?” I let go of the blankets and sat up. My attacker, Penny, abruptly fell backward and tripped over the chair, taking the covers with her.

  “Ow!” she exclaimed as she came down hard on her derriere. At this point a few things require explanation. In those days most people slept naked, as I was now, pajamas and night clothes being a luxury. As Penny stood back up, I became uncomfortably aware of this, not to mention the fact that my little soldier was giving his best morning salute. I was suddenly grateful for the abundance of decorative pillows and made quick use of one to hide my condition. Penny was kind enough to look away.

  “Listen Penny, I know we’ve been friends a long time, but don’t you think it would be better to knock next time?” I’d be damned it I was going to be embarrassed. I was clearly the victim in this situation.

  “I did knock! I knocked at seven; I came back and knocked at eight and again at nine! You were called to meet with the Duke at nine thirty, but I told him you were ill. I don’t think he believed me at first, but Marcus told him he’d kept you up late drinking.” She looked extremely put out, but I noticed she hadn’t offered the covers back to me. Instead she kept darting glances at my legs; well I presumed it was my legs. I repositioned the pillow to make sure I was covered. “Finally, I just came in at ten,” she continued, “to clean and air out the room. You were sleeping like one of the dead.”

  She was determined to ruin my righteous indignation. “What time is it now?” I asked a bit sheepishly.

  “Midday.” Her raised eyebrow and pursed lips informed me that she thought noon was entirely too late to be waking.

  “Noon?” My earlier resolve to not be embarrassed deserted me. “I’m sorry Penny. Look, I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, but would you mind leaving so I can get dressed?” I glanced over at the dressing table. The night before, scratch that, the morning before I had gotten into an epic struggle escaping the devilish clutches of the doublet. It appeared she had sorted out the tangled mess I had victoriously left at the foot of the bed.

  “You’re going to need my help, but I’ll wait over here till you’ve got your hose and shirt on.” She turned her back to me and faced the dressing table, so I got busy putting on the clothes I could safely manage. Too late I remembered that the dressing table had a large mirror on it, looking over my shoulder I could see her surreptitiously watching me in it. I’m not sure why, but I kept my mouth shut and finished dressing, probably I’d had enough of embarrassing conversations. I made sure to tuck my shirt in this time.

  Minutes later she was helping me to lace up the doublet. Despite our prior experience, I still found her closeness unsettling. I remembered Marc’s admission regarding his lack of virginity, and I couldn’t help but wonder. Could it have been Penny? I kept my idiot mouth closed this time. The thought bothered me anyway.

  “What kept you up all night?” The words startled me, coming as they did from right next to my ear. I’m going to have to get Benchley to help me dress tomorrow. I thought to myself. Benchley was the valet that assisted Marc with his own wardrobe. Shutting my eyes for a moment, I organized my thoughts.

  “Pardon?” Sometimes my cleverness amazes even me.

  “Don’t,” she answered.

  “Don’t what?” Having settled on the ‘dumb’ defense I figured I’d keep going.

  She finished up the laces and stepped away, eyeing my clothes critically. “Keep shutting me out, Mort, and you’ll regret it one day.”

  I decided that I might still have a chance with feigning ignorance, “Honestly Penny, I don’t know what you’re referring to. You heard Marcus, we stayed up late drinking and I had more than might be wise…” I never got to finish, her hand caught me with a stinging slap that left my cheek tingling and turned my head half way around.

  “Goddammit Mordecai! I’ll put up with a lot, but don’t stand there and lie to my face! You tell Marc and Dorian everything but you can’t be bothered to trust me! Why? Is it the tits?” She was gesticulating wildly and she punctuated this remark by lifting the anatomy in question. “You think I’m some empty headed girl you can’t confide in?”

  I was backpedalling quickly, caught completely off-guard by the unbridled fury in her voice. “No of course not, Penny! I trust you. I mean, we grew up together; you being a woman has nothing to do with this. We’ve always been close friends if…”

  “Close!?” she interrupted. “That’s why you went out of your way to visit when you came to town the past two years? That’s why you knew my Ma died last year of the consumption? That’s why you knew Da wasn’t able to work anymore and that I had taken a job here? You came to see Dorian. You made countless trips to talk to Marcus! I just wasn’t good enough to bother talking to?”

  The scope of our conversation had grown to encompass a lot more than my secret research. In truth I had avoided Penny the last couple of years, mostly because things had gotten increasingly awkward with the onset of puberty.
She had changed in ways that set us apart, and as she blossomed, she had only gotten more popular with the men in town. I had never liked competition, and truthfully, she was way out of my league.

  She continued, “Did you think maybe I didn’t need a friend too?” She was winding down now, and I could see tears in her eyes.

  “Penny I’m sorry, you’re right.” Our conversations were developing a definite pattern, “I figured you had plenty of friends. Every boy in town has been trying to court you, surely…”

  “I didn’t need suitors, I needed a friend.” She looked directly at me as she said this, and for a moment I wanted to hold her. Stupid! She tells you she needs a friend, and the first thing you think of is making a pass at her. Being born male truly is a curse sometimes.

  “Fair enough, I agree with you. If I were you, I’d be somewhere else. I obviously don’t merit your friendship, so why are you here, Penelope?” She was right, but I was tired of arguing. I couldn’t possibly apologize for not being there for her during her hardships. Besides, she’d probably be better off if she stopped worrying about me.

  “Asshole! I’m here because you’re the only true friend I have! And don’t think you’re going to run me out of here like that. We’re friends until I say we’re not! Even if I have to beat you into telling me what’s going on with you!”

  I gave up. “What do you want to know?”

  She looked at me suspiciously, “No tricks, I already know more than you think, so you’d better be honest.”

  “Deal.”

  “Why were you in the library last night?” That surprised me, she obviously didn’t miss much.