• Aliese's test
• Prologue: Pillars of Light (new draft)
• Basis of Magic

Prologue: Pillars of Light (new draft)

Tarone snapped awake, listening to a dull resonating hum as it coursed up the tower's walls. Standing up in the darkness of his room, he reached for his staff, but encountered only air. Old habits. Pressing one hand against his forehead, he struggled to remember the present. My quarters, the mage tower. The alarm... he furrowed his brows. Not the tower bell, he knew. Something different. Something worse. He banished the last of his confusion and lit the lamps in the room, making his way to the door. He could already hear commotion through the thick stone walls.

He opened his door and poked his head out cautiously. Several students looked about in wonder, while two of the masters were making their way down the hall to the staircase leading below. “Get the apprentices back in their rooms and keep them there!” he yelled out to the two. He waited only long enough to catch their glances before moving back into his room.

By the time the next resonance sounded throughout the walls, he was already donning his scale armor. He spared no time to admire the beautiful sheen the armor had, nor was he impressed by the complex patterns formed by the runes engraved into each scale. Years of war had long since numbed him to its allure. His body, however, fought him. Joints, now accustomed to a simpler life, protested his quick movements to get into the lightweight metal armor. It felt far heavier than it ever had before. I'm getting too old for this.

He was tightening the buckles on his bracers when three more masters walked in. “What is-” they all started.

“I don't have time to explain. Keep everyone in their quarters, and stay out of sight. Now go!” He waited until they were out of the room before sighing. Too much responsibility. I was better off in the field....

Jirath entered the room on the heels of the retreating masters. “Hurry up, old man,” he said, mocking him.

Tarone grunted, glaring at him. “You shouldn't be so anxious. You have family to look after.” He checked all of his straps one last time, frowning. “Did you see anything?”

“Nothing.”

Tarone looked back at him, confused. “No magic at all?”

“None.”

“The rune should have alerted us to a tower breach.” Jirath said nothing in response. His expression told volumes. The flash of fear reflected in his eyes, followed by hard determination. He pushed away from the doorway, heading for the stairs. Eager to remove the threat, I see. Tarone was forced to ignore his body's protestations to chase after him.

As they descended the tower, Tarone's mood grew more sour. Curious journeymen and apprentices wandered the halls, looking futilely for the source of the alarm. Very few of the masters were attempting to restrain their movement. We should have told them more. He stopped only long enough to order them back to their rooms. They obeyed, if a bit reluctantly; few students had the nerve to argue with a councilor, and as they shied away he knew they could sense the danger he did little to conceal.

The ground floor was eerily silent in comparison. Jirath stopped at the edge of the stairs, peering around the corner. Tarone stopped behind him, quietly observing his friend. Jirath drew a horseman's ax from his belt, holding it across his chest with both hands as he slipped around the corner into the hallway. You've changed, Jirath. Tarone followed, careful to keep his movements to a minimum.

Blood. Tarone noticed it almost immediately, but he could tell from the way Jirath grew stiff that he had scented the thick stench of it. A lot of blood. Tarone placed a ward around Jirath and then himself, already concentrating on several different runeforms he could quickly access.

The sight of the main hallway nearly washed away his focus. Three dead bodies lay in a mangled heap against one wall, recognizable as apprentices only from the tattered clothing hanging from corpses ripped open brutally. Another body, a journeyman, had been crushed against the wall forcefully enough to embed bone fragments in the stone. Tarone clenched his teeth and stepped slowly into the hallway. He'd seen worse on the battlefield. We should have been prepared. He glanced over at Jirath, watching him survey the area; his gauntlets wrung against the haft of his ax in anger as he took in the carnage. Jirath looked back toward the main gate. Tarone could sense Jirath's eagerness to leave now, to run back to his manse and check on his wife and daughter.

“The best thing for us to do now is deal with the intrusion,” Tarone spoke softly.

Jirath snapped his gaze back to Tarone, narrowing his eyes. Seconds passed before he nodded, stepping around Tarone and moving farther down the central hallway, deeper into the tower. Tarone barely caught him mumbling as he walked off. “I can feel Aliese, that's all that matters.”

You've changed a lot, Tarone thought as he followed, trying to avoid looking at the mangled corpses of students he might have known. 

Another buzz reverberated through the tower, higher pitch than the one that awakened him. They moved around the corner and almost tripped over to more dead students. Jirath growled as he stepped over them and continue down the hall to one of the many storage rooms the tower used for excess supplies. The doorway had been smashed open explosively; small pieces hung from the ruined hinges and splinters littered the floor. The room itself was in disarray, a wide path clear all the way to the back wall where another doorway, once hidden and rewarded, had stood.

That doorway was completely gone. No evidence that it had ever existed remained above for the regular stone frame in the wall. Several layers of rune words that had been inscribed on the stone entryway, some as old as the tower itself, have been completely obliterated. Tyrone broke out into a cold sweat; no one had ever been able to break the wards in this room. Historical text, written by major generations ago implied that they had been put there by the Lirians themselves to protect the nation. Still, it happened from time to time that a young mage with more power than sense would attempt to unlock some of the ancient wards scattered throughout the tower. The last such person had ended up bedridden for a month from wounds that wouldn't heal through magic, and his power had been diminished to a pale flicker of its former strength.

And now one of these warded doors lay open, ripped apart in a matter of minutes. Tarone muttered a useless reminder to Jirath to be careful and followed him down a set of stairs the door had concealed.

They encountered several other traps, all sprung or destroyed, before they even reached the bottom of the stairs. Empty arrow holes, more destroyed rune wards, and several smashed trigger plates made Tarone even more uneasy. Who could possibly have known about this? Who could have gotten this far? The questions rolled around in his mind, though he dreaded finding the answers. He worried about the other councilors who would be here soon, too; their talents were limited in a situation like this. Tarone and Jirath had spent half their lives in war against the Nyrians; the others had spent their lives in this tower, far from any deeper conflict than a misbehaving student.

Another room opened up at the bottom of the staircase. A dim red light, projected from small runes positioned at the top of the walls, gave an eerie ambiance to the room. Many other runes were carved into the wall as well, complex structures whose purpose Tarone could not comprehend. He could feel no active magic coming from them, nor, to his annoyance, could he feel any magic from within this room. The thought worried him—his ability to sense magic was what had kept him alive through the war. Now, he was blind.

Tarone surveyed the rest of the room. A circular pillar, nearly three arm spans wide, took up most of it, mimicking one in the center of each floor above. There were no other exits except another staircase heading down. Jirath was already heading toward it, drawing an ax from his belt and gripping the haft tightly in both hands. Tarone followed, more wary than before. He was not going to leave Jirath behind.

The staircase spiraled slowly downward. The dim light of the room above quickly disappeared, and Tarone was forced to create his own, leaving the slim fire to burn slowly above his head. The alarm, sounding through the rocks again, was deafening in the narrow staircase, and they both fumbled to cover their ears as it passed. Tarone knew the sound's pitch signified that danger was imminent, but they had still seen nothing other than the destroyed wards as proof that anything was amiss.

Within seconds of the alarm a bright light washed up the stairs, nearly blinding their darkness-acclimated vision. A strong pulse of magical energy, surging through the rock to their left, forced them instinctively up against the outer wall. Tarone cringed at the raw power of the magic. “Go! Now!” He cried out to Jirath, pushing against him down the stairs. Whatever this was, it wasn't good.

The room at the bottom of the stairs resembled the one above, except for some slight differences. As Tarone became accustomed to the light he discovered its source—an extremely large crystal was situated directly in the center of the room, placed inside the pillar that ran up through the tower. A man, crooked and hunched over, stood only a few steps from the crystal. He appeared to be feeding the crystal, although Tarone could not be absolutely sure; his senses were again dampened in the room.

Jirath paused for only a second, before blitzing across the room. Tarone's eyes could barely discern the movement—Jirath had infused his body with inhuman speed. Tarone saw him clearly again only an arms' length away from the man, axe already raised above his head. Tarone quickly placed another ward around him, aware that he was most vulnerable in the split instance he shifted his infusion from speed to strength. Jirath's muscles bunched as he put his weight into the swing.

The axe never landed. The man moved gracefully around the blade, faster than Tarone's eyes could track. The light dimmed for a second as the crystal stopped eminating, and Jirath staggered back, the right side of his lower torso missing. He turned, the axe falling from his hands to clatter on the floor. His expression, pained and surprised, faded as he slumped to the floor, blood pooling around him.

Tarone spared no time thinking about what had happened. He merely reacted. Warding himself in every way he knew how, he then drew upon all the magic he could. The room grew bright again as numerous balls of fire burst into existance, seeking. He threw blades of air toward the man, attempting to cut through the magical shield he saw wrapped tightly against his body. Large rocks, invoked into existance, came at the man from either side, attempting to crush him. He gave no care to whether he lived, only that he stayed alive long enough to get rid of the threat.

The impact of magic against his wards smashed him back into the staircase. His vision swam. He hadn't even felt it coming. An enormous crash sounded as his spells connected, and dust filled the air as the room fell into silent darkness. He tried to move. Sharp pain lanced through his body, nearly blacking him out. He froze, instead focusing on his surroundings. The bright light had not reappeared. He dimly heard voices from above. He tried again to get up, to check on Jirath. He made it two steps before crashing to the ground again, the impact rendering him unconscious.

* * *

The cold night air stung Aliese's cheeks. She hesitated to use any spells to ward off the wind, or warm herself up. Her da had always told her not to use magic where a more mundane solution would do. Instead, she pulled the scarf around her neck up to cover most of her face, and then buried her hands back in her coat pockets. Smiling as warmth returned to her cheeks, she silently congratulated hereself on remembering her father's advice.

Of course, she'd been told she shouldn't be outside in the middle of the night, either, but she banished that thought quickly. The tower wasn't that far away from the house, and she couldn't sleep. Her da would be awake at this hour, she knew.

The cobblestone streets themselves were well-lit—numerous lamp posts adorned each intersection, simple runes giving off a soft glow that illuminated the shops and houses. Here and there other people roamed about, most of whom she knew. She kept her distance from them, making her way toward the huge tower, currently outlined by the full moon rising. She didn't want any of them to catch her and drag her back home.

A buzzing noise, much like a swarm of bees, rang out through the city. She looked up at the tower quizzically. She'd never heard a building make noise like that. The other people around her all gazed skyward as well, and she guessed they hadn't either. She bit her lip, worried. What will da be doing, now? She broke out in a run, dodging around people awestruck by the noise.

She stopped after a few minutes, catching her breath. She had heard a few more buzzing noises from the tower, The last one had been the loudest yet. She was close enough now to see the gate into the castle grounds. It was closed. She knew the guards would let her in, though. They always did. The noise, though, it frightened her. Several people by now had come out to the streets, gazing at the tower, talking amongst themselves. Her earlier suspicions had been confirmed—no one had ever heard the noise before. Even old Marley the baker had never heard it, and he'd been here longer than the king.

A blast of brilliant light, brighter than the noonday sun, washed out over the city from the top of the tower. The gathered crowd gasped as they watched, awestruck, at the pillar of energy that blossomed in the sky, soaring high into the air. Aliese shuddered, watching it wide-eyed. She could feel the energy from here, and could sense that it was spreading, high in the sky. It spread out past the city, and farther before she couldn't feel it anymore. She bit her lip again and clenched the fabric of her coat. She could tell that it was dangerous, but she had no idea what it was. It scared her, and she stood there, unmoving.

A tall man a short distance in front of her caught her attention. His clothes were fancy; a heavily embroidered cape and coat marked him as a noble to her, but she didn't know him. He didn't appear to be scared by the magic, though. He looked mad. Then his face turned to look at her and his expression softened. She watched him, wary but standing her ground. He looked up at the tower again before waving his hand in front of his body, one of the old symbols of prayer he sometimes saw the bishops use.

A second pillar of light shot up from where the man stood, it spread much more quickly, reaching the city walls in only a few seconds. A few more, and it started climbing the sky, a wall of magic that pulsed loudly in Aliese's ears. It grew toward the first pillar, first surrounding it and then slicing through the stream. Crackling bursts of energy shot out along the dome of magic from where the two magics collided.

She looked back as the pillar near her faded, but there was nothing there. The man was gone.

Aliese felt a snap, and a few breaths later the second pillar ceased. The light returned to normal. Aliese blinked, trying to clear the afterimages of the pillar from her vision. No. Tears welled up in her eyes at the sudden loss of feeling inside her. Da....

The dome of magic faded into translucency, revealing a dull full moon in the night sky, but she paid it no heed. She collapsed on the cold cobblestone sidewalk and wept.