Dream II - Chapter 2 (Patreon)

- - - - -

Race: Saurian

Bloodline Powers: Strength, Rending, Emberbreath
Greater Mysteries: Fire (Noble) 3, Wind (Noble) 1
Lesser Mysteries: Heat 4, Oxygen 4, Embers 4, Pressure 4, Current/Flow 4

- - - - -

“Come in Sam, Come in Rose,” Pothas’ cheerful voice sounded through the heavy oak door.  Rose shrugged before placing a hand against the stained wood and pushing.  Samazzar had no way of knowing if the door was magical, or simply very well counter-balanced, but it swung open smoothly.

Pothas was seated behind a large desk that looked like it had been carved from a single tree rather than assembled.  It’s smooth, rounded curves supported a desk cluttered with books and various ingredients.  In front of the bearded spellcaster was a ledger where the older man had been scribbling notes.

The room itself was more of the same.  The wall behind Pothas was bare other than a handful of what appeared to be magical implements hung carefully on the wall.  To Samazzar’s left stood a massive array of bookshelves terminating in a handful of display cases where powerful alchemical ingredients were stored.  To his right was a massive set of windows, opening out onto a stone balcony that overlooked the academy.

But Sam barely even noticed the view.  Instead, his eyes were locked on the book shelves.  Hundreds upon hundreds of tomes sat on those dusty shelves.  Up until this moment, Samazzar had only ever seen six books, each more precious than the last.  Outside of direct instructions from his childhood mentor, Crone Tazzaera, everything he knew came from one of those six books.

“You can stop salivating Sam,” Pothas said with a chuckle as he motioned to a pair of chairs in front of his desk.  “You’ll have plenty of time to read from my personal collection.  Wait until you get a chance to look through the forbidden archives.  If you think my library is impressive, we might need a bib the first time you get to visit the archives.”

“Master,” Rose said pointedly, scowling at the older man as she took her seat.

“Of course Sam will have to become an official part of the Academy and go through vetting first,” Pothas replied dismissively as he flicked his wrist.  A gust of wind grabbed the second chair and pulled it out enough that Samazzar could sit down.  “Unless Sam is a spy, that’s just a matter of time and money.  If he is a spy, well, he’ll be too dead to worry about everything else.”

“Spy?”  Samazzar asked, cocking his head slightly to the side.  “Where would I even be a spy from?  My tribe has something like fifteen weapons made from iron, let alone the steel you humans use.”

“It’s theoretically possible that one of the Southern kingdoms would make use of you,” Pothas said with a roll of his eyes.  “There are also some camps that fear the barbarian tribes in your mountain range uniting and trying to loot Vereton.  It’s all farfetched nonsense, but the Patrician has made his decrees in response to their complaints, and I am far from foolish enough to cross that man.”

“Then what’s next?” Samazzar questioned.  “I’m not a spy.  I just came to Vereton because I want to learn everything.”

“Of course,” Pothas chuckled.  “That zest was part of the reason I chose you.”

“As for what’s next,” he continued, “I suppose that’s a matter of making sure you have enough background information to survive, and then trying to find some employment for you so that you can afford your tuition.  Obviously, it won’t be that much of a problem to find work for three magically talented saurians.  Even if you weren’t born that way, your current race has a bit of a reputation for being… decisive combatants.”

Sam nodded eagerly.  He’d killed before, and there was no question in his mind that he’d do it again.  It wasn’t his favorite activity, but as much as he loved magic, it wasn’t his primary goal.  Despite being born a kobold and his current appearance, Samazzar was a dragon.  Deep in the core of his being, he knew that it was his destiny to spread his wings and fly from over the plains, ignoring the petty squabbles of lesser beings.  Above all else, he needed to improve his bloodline.

That meant seeking out other creatures with a more powerful draconic heritage and slaying them.  It wasn’t a task for the faint of heart, but with enough cunning and magic, even a creature as helpless as a kobold could prevail.  Through planning and preparation, Samazzar had carefully marked and eliminated his targets.

His quest to become a dragon might seem lofty, but Sam had more than made due.  He’d thrived.

“So young man,” Pothas said, leaning forward to push two cups of steaming liquid in front of Rose and Samazzar.  “Tell me what you know of the nature of magic.”

Next to Samazzar, Rose picked up her cup, blowing on it gently.   Steam fluttered away from the liquid before she brought it to her lips and drank a sip.  Cautiously, Sam picked up his own drink, reaching out with his mind to lower the temperature to something more reasonable.

“Well,” he began, bringing the cup to his muzzle and tasting the warm water.  For some reason it had a slightly sweet, floral flavor to it.  “As you are probably aware, I have learned some of the noble mysteries of fire and air-”

“No, no,” Pothas cut him off, waving a hand through the air as he shook his head.  “I mean the nature of magic.  What do you know about the thousand and one mysteries, what they are and how they came to be?”

“Master,” Rose said urgently.  “You can’t simply circumvent the rules regarding restricted books by telling Sam about them.  He needs to be approved by the Patrician or the Chancellor before he can access certain truths.”

“Nonsense,” Pothas responded dismissively.  “Sam officially becoming my apprentice and having access to the forbidden archives is a matter of formality.  There’s no reason I can’t set him on the right path now.”

Rose’s glass clinked as she set it down on its saucer.  She scowled at Pothas.  For a couple of seconds, he maintained a defiant expression before finally relenting under her withering glare.

“Fine, I’ll make sure that Sam hears the sanitized version, at least until he is formally enrolled in the Academy.”

“Sam,” Pothas continued.  “What I’m about to tell you isn’t exactly common knowledge, but at the same time, it isn’t explicitly forbidden.  I hope you will also understand that there is much more to the story than what I am telling you now.”

To his side, Rose sighed, but Samazzar hardly even noticed.  His eyes were locked on the older bearded magi as Pothas prepared himself for a lecture.

Pothas opened his mouth to begin before cocking his head to the side.  He rolled his eyes before shouting at the closed door.

“Percival!  Quit skulking around out there.  It’s time for your morning alchemy lesson, and I don’t want to hear from Instructor Taan’aer that you were late.  It was difficult enough to attract an alchemist from the Vyrwood to train you in elven techniques.  If Instructor Taan’aer feels that you are disrespecting his teachings, there won’t be much I can do about it if he decides to return home.”

Outside the door, Samazzar heard hasty footfalls as someone ran away.

“He has no discipline, Master,”  Rose remarked, shaking her head.  “It’s a wonder, even with your teachings, that he managed to make it to the third level in the mystery of air.  It’s hard to think of him as a student of the mystery, given how much of his time he spends trying to avoid study and work.”

“You know the rule,” Pothas said with a sigh, reaching up to run a hand through his hair.  “If he is not ready for his next baptism on time, Percival is out.  If he refuses a baptism when he is read, Percival is out.  Still, as lazy as the boy is, there’s no question he’s one of the Called.  He takes to the air like a swallow.  Facets of the mystery that would take most scholars months if not years to understand simply come to him on instinct.  It would be a shame to lose that sort of talent.”

“The Called?”  Samazzar asked, scaled brow furrowing.

Pothas turned back to Samazzar, a gentle smile replacing the scowl on his face.  He picked up his own cup of liquid, blowing on it gently before bringing it to his lips.

“Sam,” Pothas began.  “The world has always had magic, but the mysteries are only a little over a millenia old.”

“But,” Samazzar tried to cut in, but the wizard raised a hand, cutting him off.

“Early writings speak of a time of wonders,” Pothas continued.  “Men more powerful than the greatest heroes today smote mountains and slew ancient beasts.  They tamed dragons and harnessed storms and rivers to create a golden age.  One thing made all of this possible, Sam.”

Pothas leaned forward, eyes darting to the bank of closed windows before he hissed conspiratorially.

“They had gods Sam.  Gods.”

Samazzar cocked his head to the side, staring at the older man without any real comprehension.  Hesitantly, he sounded out the unfamiliar word.

“Gods?”

“Yes Sam.”  Pothas beamed at him.  “Powerful beings that encompassed the very laws of the world.  Some say they were literally the manifestations of the mysteries themselves.  A man could only worship one God which limited the powers they had access to, but the God could simply grant him powers.  Abilities that would take you or I decades to learn could be granted in the snap of an incomprehensible entity’s fingers.  The physical strength that today takes dangerous elixirs and years of training came as blessings, granted to the faithful after a short period of prayer and fasting.”

“Scholarship surged, and we conquered nature,” Pothas said, eyes misty and distant.  “Cities like Vereton were mere hamlets compared to the metropolises the gods ruled from.  The various empires stretched across the face of the planet, unlocking farmland and natural wonders for everyone that sought it.  Art, poetry, and philosophy reached heights you would never dream of.  For thousands and thousands of years, the world lived in harmony.”

“We were unstoppable Sam,” he rambled wistfully.  “A people of unparalleled power and unified purpose, and the world was better for it.”

“Unstoppable?”  Rose asked with a snort.  “Finish the story, Master.  Tell Sam about the Godsfall.  Let him know the price of their hubris.”

Samazzar glanced from his new master to Rose.  His fellow apprentice was leaning back in her seat, arms crossed in front of her chest as she shook her head at Pothas.  The older wizard slumped backward, sighing deeply.

“She’s right, you know.  As good as things were during the Age of Gods, envy and avarice planted the seeds of disaster.  It is unclear what started the conflict, but there is no question that the entire world went to war.”

“Man, barbarian and beast struggled against one another, bleeding and dying in massive campaigns across the planet,” Pothas continued.  “But during the war, the world learned an important truth.  Gods may be powerful beyond mortal comprehension, but they can die.”

The older man lapsed into morose silence for a moment.  When he finally spoke, his voice was desolate.

“They all died, and they took their gifts with them.”

“Warrior priests, stronger than our greatest heroes and wielding magic that would make an archmagi green with envy, became mortal men overnight,” Pothas said with a sigh.  “There are even tales of warriors being crushed under the weight of their battle armor when they lost the power of their blessings, no longer able to move or even breathe without their divine strength.”

“The war became known as the Godsfall,” Pothas continued, pausing for a moment to take another sip from his drink.  “Hundreds of thousands died in the wars, but millions more perished when society collapsed.  It was only in the dark ages that followed that we discovered the thousand and one mysteries and the secrets of alchemy, mere reflections of our former glory and power.”

“Now Vereton sits at the far Northern edge of human civilization,” he muttered bitterly.  “Once upon a time we were near the center of the-”

“Master,” Rose interrupted, a warning tone in her voice.  “I believe you are beginning to stray a little close to forbidden information.  Perhaps you can tell Sam about the Called?  I believe he asked a question about them earlier in the conversation.”

Samazzar shook his head to clear it.  Pothas’ monologue had upended his world.  Part of him wondered if the old man was lying, but Sam simply could not think of a reason why Pothas would lie.  He even admitted that he was unable to tell Sam the entire truth, strange as it might be.

“Fine,” Pothas replied, a hint of unhappiness in his voice.  “Sam, tell me, what have you been taught about the task of learning the mysteries?”

He paused, and thought for a moment before replying.

“Crone Tazzaera taught me that everyone learns at the same pace, but that some of the shorter lived races study harder and take more risks so they tend to uncover the mysteries faster than others.”

“Surprisingly close,” Pothas said with an appreciative grunt.  “By and large what she taught you is true, but it misses one important factor.  The Called aren’t quite a secret, but not everyone knows about them.  They are practitioners that seem to understand a certain mystery on an intuitive level.  Where the rest of us must carefully and systematically study a mystery, it is almost like the magic whispers to them, filling in the gaps that would take months if not years of experimentation for an ordinary spellcaster.”

“Sam,” Pothas continued, leaning forward in his chair and placing both elbows on the top of his desk.  “I’ve seen the way you took to the mystery of air.  It was like another hand for you.  Even after just learning the mystery, you controlled your magic on an instinctive level.  There’s no test to tell whether or not someone is Called to a mystery, but after seeing your performance and learning your age, there is no doubt in my mind that the-”

“Master,” Rose cut in, flashing an apologetic smile toward Samazzar.  “Maybe the rest of this conversation can wait until Sam has paid his tuition and is formally enrolled with the Academy.  Especially if you plan on talking about the current geopolitical tensions.  I’m sure the Patrician won’t like that conversation.”

“I’m sure you’re right,” Pothas replied, slumping back into his seat.  “Unfortunately, I can’t teach you anymore until you’re formally a student at the Academy, and that means a loyalty test and paying tuition.  Vereton is threatened on all sides, and even if you aren’t a spy, the Patrician needs parros to pay for his guards and knights.  I may not be thrilled by the way things are, but I certainly understand it.”

“But how will I pay tuition?”  Samazzar asked hesitantly.  “I have a couple alchemical ingredients, but I don’t know how much they are worth.  I doubt that they’ll be enough.”

“Don’t worry too much,” Rose answered him, a hint of compassion slipping into her voice.  “Only the rich or those with sponsors actually pay their tuition in parros.  Most students perform tasks to pay off their debt.  I can help you get registered with the bursar once we’re done with Master Pothas, and part of that process will be finding a quest you can perform as a down payment.  The person that assigns the quest will pay the Academy directly, and any excess will be added to your dispensary account.  I already have my eye on a couple assignments that I think might suit you and your friends.  They might be a little dangerous, but they pay enough to get you two dormitory rooms on campus and food from the cafeteria.”

“Thank you,” Sam replied, nodding his head at the silver haired woman.

“Now,” Pothas said with a smile.  “Unless there are any other questions, I’ll leave you in Rose’s capable hands.  She can get you squared away and reunite you with your friends.”

“Just one,” Samazzar responded hungrily.  “You talked a lot about the gods, but you didn’t give many details.  Were any of them dragons?”

“Master!” Rose interjected urgently, but for once Pothas ignored her, a massive smile slipping across his face.

“But of course Sam.  But of course.”