Mages Bones: a serial fantasy story by Tommy. Chapter 3

Arcane by Sara. http://www.deviantart.com/art/Arcane-Wallpaper-95450208

Chapter 3

Gilarean looked over to the stairs where he had heard the lower door slam, and the sounds of stamping feet were coming up. They were being followed by a quieter faster step, and he was suddenly intrigued. Who would Nicairius bring to the tower? And why the hell would he bring them to his room?

“Nic?” Gilarean started up from his chair. “Is that you?” he inquired, with a polite disarming tone.

“…and who the hell else would get through that bloody door without blowing half the tower up?” came the stern reply.

It was Nicairius.

He rounded the top rail post of the spiral staircase and walked towards Gil.

“Fair point… and who’ve you got with you?” Gil was genuinely puzzled.

“This… is Juno. Apprentice of the 3rd Circle, a promising student with, unfortunately, horse shit where his brains should be…” Nicairius found Gilarean’s discarded wine glass, and sat in the chair he had just that minute vacated.

“Aren’t they all though?” Gil had little contact with most of the apprentices. He found them all a bit too needy.

“This is a special case…” Nic was breathing so heavily he was practically snorting, and Gil knew that he needed to be asked what was wrong, or he would possibly combust.

Juno now stood at the top of the stairs, drip white and shaking almost uncontrollably. The knowledge that Barrilo was currently clearing out his room didn’t give him high hopes for the future.

“Go on then… What’s he done?” Gil poured himself another glass of wine not taking his eyes off the quivering apprentice.

Whatever the perceived circumstances, he took no chances with strangers in his personal chambers, and would have played merry hell with Nicairius for bringing him had the young man not been standing eight feet away. As he had been walking round for the past minute or so, subtle gestures had silently activated no less than seven magical wards intended to render any attack from the young mage ineffective, and also possibly render the young mage…

Nicairius told Gilarean exactly what had happened in the Guild Hall, and Gil tried not to smile. He knew the position Nic had been placed in, that he had to be seen to deal most severely with the matter, but also thought to himself that he would have been the one in Juno’s position had this been thirty years earlier. When Nic finished, Gil turned and cocked his head to one side; “so… what do you want to do with him?”

Juno was close to passing out from the fear; “Please… Masters… don’t kill me; I only wanted to help in the fight against the enemy… I wanted to prove that I was right, and that it could be done. I know I can do it if you just give me a chance…”

Nicairius stood up and walked toward Juno, Gilarean looked at him; “Is he actually any good Nic?” Gil asked

“Apparently so… his tutors notes say that he has aptitude and intuition that is well above average, and his bare faced arrogance almost matches yours…” he turned, and smiled and saw the look on Gil’s face, “Alright, it’s nowhere near yours, but its high for normal folk…

Gil smiled and looked across at Juno, he weighed up some possibilities and potential outcomes in his mind and looked at Nic; “The third?” he asked.

“That’s why I brought him up here. Do you think he would do?” Nic replied.

“Does it matter?” Gil was afraid that he sounded heartless, but was ready for his chair and book back. He suddenly turned and stared straight at Juno, his eyes boring deep into the young mage; “You! Boy! Do you have any idea what a necromantic bind entails? How you have to rip the power from your own soul to even try such a thing?”

“I… I know that to overcome the dark powers we have to accept that they are real, and that they are used against us!” Juno was near to tears.

Gilarean turned back to Nicairius, his face now relaxed and almost smiling; “The third it is!”

Nicairius moved over to the south wall and pulled back one of the rich velvet drapes that hung around the entire room. A huge mirror was attached to the wall behind it; “Apathakra  Labass Rockar Tuarna Ampar” he said, and the mirror began to glow.

Juno knew that he had just heard Nicairius cast a spell of the 5th Circle, all spells began with a prefix or “circle” rune, this denoted which circle of power the spell belonged in, and symbolised the highest circle of rune used within the body of the spell.

All first circle spells began with Ap, second with Apa, third with Apatha; fourth began with Apathak and the most powerful 5th Circle spells began with Apathakra. Most people who knew this fact were inclined to find the nearest large structure, or deep hole and do their best to hide, if they ever heard a mage utter the word “Apathak” let alone “Apathakra” and the fact that Juno stood stock still was a measure of the outright fear he was experiencing at that moment!

The mirror was now gone, and in its place was a glowing tunnel of energy, swirling and spiraling off into some unknown plane of existence. Juno was terrified. “Is this my fate?” he asked, “Are you going to cast me into the weave?”

“What?” It was Gil who replied. “Nic, I thought you said he was good?” he turned to Juno. “That spell was a summoning… wait a moment and you’ll see the foul beast that Grand Master Nicairius has called to deal with you. It dwells in darkness, it has no soul, and it devours the life from those around it. It is hideously ugly, with a face that could sour wine and crack marble. It is…”

“…standing right behind you listening to your libelous remarks. Wondering why I let you talk me into working with this idiots’ orphanage, that is remarkable only for the fact that it fails wholeheartedly to provide anyone with enough of a brain that I might make use of…” the voice was flat, and had no emotion in it.

Gil and Juno turned; Nicairius was walking toward them, and at his side walked an elf. The face was sharp and its skin was pale enough to make Juno believe that it was one of the Elgelloae, the deep elves. But its eyes were black and not the pink that was the giveaway for a Deep Elf. The elf wore the robes of a Master, and also bore a silvered rapier at his side.

“Faethran!!! How are you, you happy bastard!!!” Gil made to shake the elf’s hand but he ignored the gesture and shrugged past him to look at Juno.

“You, boy… what would I get if I mixed orc blood with ground harpy bones and boiled it in a solution of nettle juice?”

Juno was taken aback… “err… with a certain minor enchantment, that would create a flask that if broken would give off a gas, that would… errr… induce instant rigor mortis in anything dead. It would probably not work against a vampire, you would need something stronger than orc blood, but it would definitely stop zombies in their tracks… It would effectively paralyse them…”

“Good!” Faethran said and turned to face Nicairius, ignoring Gilarean completely.

Nicairius looked at Faethran, seemed to consider something for a moment, then he nodded.

“Come with me. I have a use for you.” Faethran turned to Juno, “You will leave this useless academy of dullards…” Gilarean started to object, but Nicairius hushed him “… and join me in my research”

“Which is?” Juno was confused now, but thought he saw what was happening.

Nicairius stepped forward and spoke; “You were quite correct Juno, we DO need to study those weapons that are employed against us if we are to defeat them. We choose to keep this quiet from the Order, as we base our teachings on the laws of the City and the Common Church, who both forbid the practice of Necromancy. Faethran is not a member of the guild, but he is still a Grand Master. He needs… assistance.”

Juno was astounded, “Then he is…” he turned to the elf; “you are…a…”

Faethran’s face displayed no emotion; “A Necromancer? Yes… I am.”

Juno was stuttering with joy, at the knowledge that he was not only not going to die, but that he was about to begin studying the most secret magic of them all… “Then I am to…”

Gilarean interrupted; “You are to calm down and gather your composure. You may have noticed that our dear friend here isn’t the emotive type, and never… ever… try to give him a hug!”

Faethran stepped towards the portal within the mirror’s frame; “Hurry up boy, I don’t like to be kept waiting.” And with that he moved through the mirror and disappeared. Juno looked at Nic, and then Gil who ushered him towards the mirror.

Juno turned one last time before stepping through, “Thank you!” he said.

And then he was gone. The mirror returned to normal, Nicairius returned the drape to its proper position, and they both sat down and Gil poured the wine.

“Well! That’s that sorted out then.” Gil sat down and took a drink.

“Shame really.” Nic said, staring into the fire, he was absent mindedly making sparks dance in a figure eight around the burning log.

“Well, he wanted to help… and Faethran will certainly put him to work.” Gil had finished his goblet already and reached to pour another. “But I agree. It is a shame that he won’t work with anyone who is alive.”

“It’s a trust thing I suspect. He doesn’t like humans and says they work better when he’s scooped their brains out and reanimated them” Nic shrugged, “But it was nice the way you made him think he was going to become an apprentice. At least he died happy.” He thought for a moment; “I wonder what he does with the brains, he always likes them to be clever?”

They looked at each other, and both decided that it was best not to ask…

Mages Bones: a serial fantasy story by Tommy: Chapter 2

Gilarean’s quarters were opulent to say the least. He had always been a show off, and even when there was no one to show off to he still tried. He sat in a plush armchair, sipping from a bottle of 60 year old deep, dark, red wine, which he had paid a band of adventurers handsomely to recover, along with its 35 follows, from the depths of a local baron’s vault. It was past midnight, and he knew that beneath him, both literally and figuratively, the guild would be busy. He shared the topmost levels of the Highest, and broadest, tower of the Guildhouse with Nicairius, his second oldest friend. He was reading a book that he had stolen himself from the intricately locked bedside drawer of the High Priest of Calandex. The fact that Nathaniel would have leant him the book, and also that he would be returning it as soon as he had read it made little difference to Gilarean, sometimes he just couldn’t help himself.

He had started life as a swordsman, but as a half elf he had lacked the bulk and strength to wear the heavy armour that warriors traditionally bore, and quickly learned that the best way to avoid being hurt was not to have the thickest armour possible, and hope to withstand the damage, but to not get hit in the first place. He had learned to fence using lighter and sharper swords, and soon realised he was quite good at it. He had been hired as a scout occasionally, helping out with adventurers and explorers who needed someone with the ability to make sure the path in front of them was safe enough that they could go lumbering down without worrying about trip wires or hidden archers.

It was while doing this work that he realised that the bulk of the treasure that these adventurers were seeking was hidden and secreted in little hidey holes… the sorts of places he was forever finding while checking for traps and alarms. He had spoken to Zane, who was also a scout, but was the more reputable type. Zane knew the land and was like a walking map, who people hired to get them from one place to another if the road didn’t lead directly there. He too had been a warrior, and decided that it was safer and more lucrative to be the one the other warriors needed to keep alive, and this had proved to be the case. When Gilarean and Zane had finished their conversation the Scouts’ Guild had been formed.

The Scouts’ Guild had been successful, people hired scouts for various jobs, and paid the guild, the guild trained the scouts and paid them by the job, the scouts also made whatever they could on whatever job they were on, and that was the key to the financial success of the guild. Gilarean and Zane worked out that the best way to find all the loot and gold and best bits of treasure. It was wisest to have a scout at the front leading the way, and a scout at the back making sure “no one was following”. It was the second scouts’ job to scour rooms, tombs and vaults for all the hidden trinkets, and by using this method they had themselves become quite wealthy in a very short space of time. They put their guild members on trust, and expected a ten percent cut of whatever they skimmed in this manner. The members were receptive to the deal, and things went well. The guild, however, attracted quite a few potential members who believed that it was a front for a Thieves’ Guild, as the two often went hand in hand… After a year of serious prosperity, Gilarean decided that the Thieves Guild idea warranted some further investigation. A year later he was living in an expensive keep, with a small private army guarding it, and was in joint charge of one of the largest and richest organisations on The East Coast.

A year later he had become bored.

He had known Ambrose and Nicairius from his old tavern days at The Mad Mystic, and when he met them in town one day and they decided to have a drink and catch up, it transpired that all were at something of a dead end. Both the wizards had finally achieved Master status, but were never going to gain rank within the Guild of Arcane Lore because they were too free thinking and some might say, “Opinionated”. Gilarean explained to his friends how easy it had been to set up his Guilds, and put forward a proposal.

Simply that, if Nicairius and Ambrose would make him their first student teach him magic, he would pay for the Guild house and set up costs.

It took very little time and effort to convince them, neither wanted to be involved with the College any longer, and when Gil had shown them the number of magical tomes and scrolls he had acquired throughout his career, they were happy to let him spend his money and contribute his artefacts to the Guild. Gil’ had had no idea that the differences in the two types of Guild would be so enormous. The two Guilds he had been in charge of practically ran themselves and involved him counting the money while a couple of administrators did the paperwork and dealt with the clients. The members wanted nothing more than to be out, working… earning!!!

Not the bloody mages though.

Gil had never met a more demanding bunch… They wanted teaching… all the time, they wanted to know more about where this flower came from, or how that crystal worked, or why Dragon Scales were so rare, or why gorgon venom was so dangerous to handle… Nicairius and Ambrose were very good at dealing with the members, and Gil’ was good at dealing with the potential clients. As soon as a Guild Tower had been built in Tasskurr, business started to happen. Local dignitaries had wanted enchantments, and magical trinkets, and adventurers wanted potions of invisibility, and protective scrolls, and all manner of weird and wonderful requests came across his desk almost daily. New members joined daily, and new requests for magical solutions to problems came in thick and fast, it was a busy time, and the heads of The Guild of Arcane Lore in Minsturr weren’t pleased either. There had never been a serious challenge to the monopoly of the Guild in the teaching of the arts to aspirant magi, and while the college had never objected to wizards who took apprentices in their own homes and taught them outside of the Guilds methods, to set up in direct competition was not something they had ever anticipated. They had sent missives to the Tasskurr upstarts, Gil’ had coined the name “The Hermetic Order of The Silver Sphere.” He didn’t really know what it meant but he thought it sounded impressive… They requested that they cease their business dealings forthwith, and hand over all goods and chattels to the Guild.

Gil wrote back to say, “No.”.

The Guild invoked an ancient law they had “discovered” in their archives that stated that the teaching of magic was the provision of those tutored in the ways of the Weave as handed down from the initial teachings of the Gods of Magic and Knowledge.

Gil’ replied that all those doing the teaching had been taught that, and that anyone being taught would indeed be learning those same things, and that he was very sure that the ancient laws didn’t decree under which specific name the teaching took place; and, more importantly, who got paid for the teaching.

The guild tried to belittle the Silver Sphere by joking in public that it was “stupid to have a guild of Hermits” to which Gil replied in a polite letter, after someone explained it to him, that “Hermetic” referred to the old word; “Hermes” which was one of the ancient names of the God of Magic, and if the Masters of the College wished to take a class in “History of the Craft” he could offer them a discount.

The College stopped joking.

An ultimatum was sent through to Tasskurr; a challenge. The College would send one wizard and the Order would send one wizard, and both would do combat using magic. The winner would have the choice over how the two guilds would exist, or not…

Gil accepted, on the condition that the duel be to the death.

The College had sent Jeunir Lockleaf a Master of The Element of Fire to do battle, and Gil had sent himself. He was still only a mage of the 4th Circle of Power and was years away from attaining a Master Rune of his own, but he had something the College wizards didn’t. Years of experience running a thieves Guild, and all the money influence and treasures that had come with that position. For example, Gilarean had years before come into possession of a belt that protected the wearer from fire, he had a ring that did similar, and had bought half a dozen potions of Fire Resistance. He wore a suit of light elven chainmail, which had been fabricated specifically for him on the High Isle of the Elven Triumvirate. Everyone knew that if you carried or wore too much metal, the power of the runes would earth, and spell casting was dangerous. In fact many had exploded from attempting anything beyond a 2nd circle spell while carrying a steel sword in their hand. What “everyone” didn’t know was that certain precious metals not only didn’t have this effect but, in fact, were capable of focussing runic power and making spells either stronger or easier to cast… Gilarean’s armour was made from Star-Stone alloy, and was very much in the precious metal category. His sword had been gifted to him by Falstaff, the High Priestess of the Common Church, years before she had become so. She gave it to him as a reward after he had helped her adventuring group free their friend from an Earth Elementalist, and she had used it to kill an ancient werewolf along the way. The sword was god forged silver carrying a permanent Blessing, and was as near to perfect as any blade he’d ever held.

The whole ensemble had had exactly the effect he had hoped for; Jeunir had taken one look and thought they had sent a mere warrior. They each stood at one end of the large oval arena and Jeunir’s confidence that there was no way a swordsman could reach him to strike before he had all but vapourised him, he began the lengthy tirade as to how, such “a pitiful guild could only put forward such a pitiful specimen of a mage…” and so on. He had got about two words of his planned belittlement out of the way before a lightning bolt tore through him leaving him badly wounded on the floor. He managed to very quickly throw up a force field, and used the time it gave him and began to work on healing himself, while Gilarean began to work on the unravelling of the binding enchantments that held Jeunir’s Fire Elementals in place. Once he had finished the main part of the spell and only needed to utter a final command word, he too threw up a, larger, force field around the pair of them and waited for Jeunir’s protection spell to wear off. The moment it did, a rejuvenated and healed Jeunir set forth his elementals to roast the flesh from Gilarean’s bones. As they were but inches away Gil had simply spoken the word “freedom” and the binding was broken. All of Jeunir’s Elementals were freed and not too happy at the years of imprisonment. They had a few scores to settle before they departed for the Plane of Fire… Gilarean’s belt, ring and potions protected him from the onslaught, and the force field prevented Jeunir from escaping meaning that he had no time at all to protect himself from his own Fire Spirits. When the force field finally faded, and the not inconsiderable amount of smoke had cleared, Gilarean was left standing, completely unscathed with the body of the world’s foremost authority on Fire Magic smouldering away on the floor. From that day on, the College had never contacted him again, and he had never claimed his prize.

It was a sensible arrangement, he thought, that if he left them alone, they would leave him alone.

He had always promised himself to one day tell Nicairius and Ambrose about everything that had happened with the College, but he thought they would only worry and complain, and maybe get angry at him for not telling them sooner, and now, nearly twenty years on, he thought he’d probably just leave things as they were.

Layering and costume

A really good blog piece here by Charlie on the LARP GUIDE site
http://larp.guide/2015/08/clothes-not-costume-layering/

MAGES BONES : A serial fantasy story by Tommy

Chapter 1

It was after midnight in the Mages’ Tower in the city of Tasskurr. This meant that it was busy. No wizard worth his runes conducted business in the cold light of day. Not when the same work could be done under the cover of darkness and present far more of an air of mystery and suspense.

Nicarius had been a Master of the Hermetic Order of the Silver Sphere for over 20 years; in fact he had been one of the three founder members.

Everyone assumed mages’ guilds and orders were part of some ancient and venerable tradition, handing secrets from Master to Apprentice down through the years. Nicarius and his compatriots did nothing to discourage the public image that they were simply the latest in a long line of keepers of the arcane secrets. Few people knew the truth; that they had set up in competition against what they had perceived to be a thoroughly corrupt monopoly on the teaching of The Craft. The Guild of Arcane Lore had been around since sometime shortly after the dawn of time, and may well have been formed through the union of some God of Magic, and a God of Knowledge passing on their secrets to a chosen few mortals who had passed that same knowledge down through the generations; chosen few to chosen few.

Of course these days chosen few was less literal than it had been in the past; these days it was fiscal prudency that allowed both the talented and the wealthy the chance to study for five years to become adept at something that really only needed a year to get right.

Nicairius shared stewardship of the Silver Sphere now with only one of his original partners. Gilarean had long been one of the two people he had ever properly trusted. The other, Ambrose, had died some years ago, so it was just him and Gil to keep things running smoothly.

Of course they never really did run smoothly. Organising The Hermetic Order of the Silver Sphere was like, as Gil often said, juggling angry serpents; even when things went well for a moment or two, all you were ultimately sure of was that something would soon be back to bite you… The Guild of Arcane Lore had been long established in the capital city of Minsturr in the North West, which was the reason the Silver Sphere was based in Tasskurr.

Tasskurr was a busy east coast frontier town with new prospective members arriving every month off the boats from the mainland; all looking to make a name for themselves. Some would join the Order and pay to learn the secrets of the runes; maybe take apprenticeships under the higher ranked members. Many more would avail themselves of the minor magical items and potions the guild members made and sold through the Arcane store at the side of the guild house.

Money was usually tight, particularly with there being a war in the winds, and it was fortunate that Gilarean’s previous line of work had involved him being the head of a very different type of guild. It had always astounded Nicairius that no one seemed to ever associate the “Scouts” guild with the other organisation entirely comprised of sneaky people who specialised in hiding in shadows and moving silently. Running a Thieves’ Guild had made Gil very wealthy of course, and even after he had handed over the running of the Scouts Guild to one of his lieutenants, he still received a regular share of its income.

Nicairius paused at the foot of the staircase. He glanced across the chamber to where two young apprentices were arguing over something.

“It’s not impossible… it just takes skill and courage!” one of them said, a little too loudly.

Nicairius started up the stairs. Then he paused, sighed, and cursed himself under his breath. He shook his head and turned around and walked over to the two young men. He stopped just in front of them, and after the moment or two it took him to realise that they hadn’t noticed him, he coughed and raised his eyebrows at their startled looks as if to say, Go on then? Tell me…”

The first to speak was Barrilo, a rich young fellow, who had mostly bought his way to the second circle of runic knowledge; but was capable enough,

“Grand Master” he began; almost stuttering with surprise at Nicairius’ presence. “Juno and I were debating whether the err… correct way to… errr…”

Juno jumped in, “…we were arguing over whether it’s actually possible to make a necromantic bind that would hold permanently!” his tone almost smacked of defiance; Barrilo closed his eyes and lowered his head into his hands.

“Sorry?” Nicairius sounded almost inquisitive. “I thought for a second you just said that you were discussing the subject of necromantic binding?” He pretended to weigh this up for a moment. Juno stood stock still, trying to maintain an air of strength, though anyone could see the sweat on his brow. He had realised his second mistake that night had been to address Nicairius in such a way.

Nicairius looked around, everyone had stopped what they were doing and were looking over at the three of them.

Damn! Why couldn’t I just walk up the bloody stairs, drink my bloody wine, read my bloody book and go to bloody bed?

The statute of the Order was clear, Necromancy was forbidden; even discussing it in terms of application. He would have to take action, and now, or the rest of the Order would see him fall down on one of the most precious articles upon which it had been founded.

“Now, why would you be discussing something like that,” he began, “when you know that such things are forbidden?” Maybe he could get away with a strong and sarcastic public withering…

That might work…

“You do know that the Fire Elemental that dwells within my very skin is always ravenous, and if I were to release him right now, all that would remain of your foolish little bodies would be a dash of soot, and an inconvenient smell?”

Barrilo winced, but Juno didn’t move.

Nicairius continued; “The reason idiot novices like you aren’t allowed to even discuss such things, is because the grown-ups have decided that it’s safer if you don’t get your souls sucked away by the spirits of the eternally damned. Which is what happens when you think you know better than we do, and go and do something stupid, like trying a bloody permanent binding!!!!!!!” he was worried now that Barrilo might just soil himself; Nicairius didn’t like bad smells.

He hoped the message had sunk in, and that would be the last of it… but instead Juno opened his mouth.

“But Grand Master, we believe that if our enemies are likely to employ necromancy against us, surely we should learn enough about it to perhaps try and counter it!” he said.

There we go!

Nicairius felt himself sag inside. It had happened. Just like deep down he’d known it was about to… Juno had tried to justify it. There was the sudden sound of everyone else in the room hurrying to go about their business again, hopeful of not being caught up in what it assumed was about to happen to the young apprentice.

Nicairius was a Grand Master of the Order; that was his title. He had other titles, such as “Master of the Flame”, and “Archmage”. Essentially, by virtue of setting the Guild up he had achieved the Grand Master title, but the other two he had worked for. A mage took a long time to achieve what Nicairius had; it took a lot of hard work, study, and practical experience to attain even one inner circle title, let alone two. Master of the Flame was a self-ascribed honorific, and was Nicairius’ way of saying “Fire Elementalist” and Archmage was his second inner circle title.

Magic was all about runes. Every rune had a meaning, and a power, and the combination of runes allowed someone who understood, and could manipulate that power, to achieve mastery over the natural magic that existed within the world. The runes were broken down into five circles of power, with the first, or “outer” circle being the basic, weaker, runes; knowledge of which allowed mages to perform minor spell such as shocking enemies with a touch, or creating a protective barrier to act like light armour. It allowed them to create light in darkness, and break and mend minor inanimate objects with a touch. As the circles increased in level, so did their power. By the time a wizard had learned the secrets of the third circle he could cast popular and effective spells such as the perennial favourite, “Fireball” creating a projectile that would fly at enemies and explode, causing varying degrees of pain and scorching. The fourth circle involved fewer runes, but their powers allowed a mage to amplify the effects of the lower ones to create more devastating explosions, more powerful armour, and enchant objects and even people. The fifth circle was the most inaccessible and most powerful of all. It potentially allowed power over time itself, (though that rune had never been successfully combined,) and its runes were almost impossible to master. They were equally difficult to pronounce.

Nicairius had mastered the fifth circle years before, and had gone beyond. He had learned two of the secret Master runes. The Master of Fire, and the Master of Magic. No one knew exactly how many Master runes existed, the ones that were known were; Fire Master, Earth Master, Air Master, Water Master, Archmage, Master Enchanter, Demonolgist and of course; Master Necromancer.

The Elemental Masters, (Nicairius’ Mastery of Fire was complimented to devastating effect by Gilarean’s Mastery of Air) were capable of summoning immensely powerful Elementals who they would engage in a form of spirit combat. If they overcame them, they could bind the Elemental into an object and had access to its powers. They could then control it to do their bidding. Demonologists, (many of whom often complained that the title gave a bad impression of their profession) had a similar relationship with spirits from the outer planes, not all of which were “Demons” in the traditional sense…

Master enchanters were capable of making almost anything with a magical aura. From a mighty sword that could cut through granite, or a dragon’s neck, to a spoon that would stir the porridge itself… and then there were Necromancers. Elementalists and Demonologists, had a slight safety net in their specialty, in that if, for any reason, one of their imprisoned forces ever managed to free itself from its binding, its natural course of action would be to cause a bit of chaos and harm in revenge for being locked up, but to quickly return to its home plane of existence. Necromancy involved many of the same principles of Elementalism; drawing forth the restless spirits of the dead and either binding them in spectral form, or binding them to a corpse. Unfortunately, if the binding were to ever break, the undead creature would be unable to return to the plane of the dead until it was killed again, and would seek to cause as much harm to the living as it could in the meantime. As far as any living mage were aware it had never been possible to create a permanent binding, to allow one to control an other-worldly being without the risk of it ever breaking free. The ramifications of something like that were enormous. It would allow Master Magi to summon and bind beings of such immense power, and use that power. So much so that the balance of nature would be threatened. The greatest risk would be that a clever mage somewhere might come up with a counter spell to undo the binding, in a foolhardy bid to defeat the power of the one creating the binding, and unwittingly unleash creatures capable of enormous devastation upon the world.

Nicairius had a problem now. Everyone had seen and heard Juno’s aspiration. The young apprentice had stepped beyond the What would happen if, that existed in his own head, and had taken the next step toward, I want to see what happens if… by openly debating it.

Ideas were dangerous, and everyone in the Order knew that if someone was focused enough on something so much that that they would openly contradict the Grand Master, in public, then there was every likelihood that if Nicairius just said, cast it from your mind and think no more on it, that Juno would simply go away and work on the idea in private, which was even worse…

He looked around to see the guild members busying themselves and trying not to make eye contact, but he knew they were listening intently to whatever his next words would be. They were; “Come with me Juno. And you, Barrilo… clean out his room.”

Juno’s face went as white as a sheet. Nicairius started up the stairs, and Juno looked around as if hoping someone or something would miraculously show him a quick escape route. It didn’t happen. He screwed his eyes up, raised his left hand to them, wiped away the tears that were forming, and set off after Archmage Nicairius; Master Of the Flame, Grand Master of The Hermetic Order of the Silver Sphere.
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(All rights to text Andrew Tomlinson, images via creative commons)