Jim Farris - Mage 3 - Arc of Time PDF
Preview Jim Farris - Mage 3 - Arc of Time
Electronically published in arrangement with the author ALL RIGHTS RESERVED 1-58495-371-3 No portion of this book may be reprinted in whole or in part, by printing, faxing, E-mail, copying electronically or by any other means without permission of the publisher. For more information contact DiskUs Publishing http://www.diskuspublishing.com E-mail [email protected] DiskUs Publishing PO Box 43 Albany, IN 47320 * This is a work of fiction. All names in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to any person living or dead is coincidental. *** Table of Contents Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen Chapter Fifteen Chapter Sixteen Chapter Seventeen Chapter Eighteen Chapter Nineteen Chapter Twenty Chapter Twenty-One Chapter Twenty-Two Chapter Twenty-Three Chapter Twenty-Four Chapter Twenty-Five Chapter Twenty-Six Chapter Twenty-Seven Chapter Twenty-Eight Chapter Twenty-Nine Chapter Thirty Chapter Thirty-One Chapter Thirty-Two Chapter Thirty-Three Chapter Thirty-Four Chapter Thirty-Five Chapter Thirty-Six Chapter Thirty-Seven Chapter Thirty-Eight Chapter Thirty-Nine Chapter Forty Chapter Forty-One About the Author Chapter One “To truly understand the Ancient One, it must be understood that they are not like any ordinary, mundane human who ever lived, before or since. Like all the truly mighty mages of legend and song, Eddas Ayar was and is passionless, and compassionless. Beyond humanity, Eddas Ayar was and is no mere mortal being, but more a force of nature, or the will of a vengeful god incarnate. To ascribe ordinary, human motivations to any mage is false - they wield powers far beyond far beyond normal beings, and that power shapes their view of the world, distancing them from it. The greatest of mages were even more distanced from the world by their power, and Eddas Ayar was and is perhaps the greatest mage in all of history. Thus, the Ancient One was so far removed from humanity that ascribing human goals and motivations to their actions is simply impossible.” - Lord Caladis, The Eddasine Chronicles, 1817 NCC I reached out an ebon-gloved hand to adjust the full-length mirror, and looked myself over. The same strange woman who had gazed back at me for seven decades stood there, her expression calm. Even after all these years of gazing upon the woman in the mirror, it still felt odd at times to see her rather than myself - a tall, bearded, olive-skinned Hyperborean male. The half-elf woman in the mirror was beautiful, of that there was no doubt. Night-black hair drawn back into a ponytail, highly arched eyebrows, eyes as black as jet… Her body, forged by seventy years of the ascetic life of a battle-mage, had received its final forging in the raging, destructive chaos that was the very heart of a mana-storm. Her beauty, because of that, was beyond ordinary mortal beauty… She was, in fact, possessed of a terrifying, alien and surreal beauty, fitting of who and what she really was. She was dressed in the ebon, long-sleeved hooded robes I favored, though with a black waist-belt over it to draw it closer about her figure. Wearing the black, elbow-length kidskin gloves and knee-length kidskin boots that had once belonged to my beloved Dyarzi, she looked every inch what the two ebon feathers she bore beneath her hairband announced she truly was - the Raven of Yorindar. “Old Man, stop primping! You look fine,” a voice called. I turned, looking over my shoulder, and saw Joy coming up the stairs to my room at the top of my tower. Though now over ninety, the proud beauty of Joy’s youth had been restored by my own sorcery, and she was once again the golden-haired goddess the late King Darian had taken as his wife. She was, in truth, a giant - though her mother’s brush with the edge of a mana-storm had left her daughter of diminutive size, at a mere five cubits in height. And, though the giants might still consider her to be quite small as she was barely the size of a toddler to them, Joy towered head and shoulders above any human I had ever human I had ever known. “Old Man, you’ve fussed in that mirror for an hour, now. Come on - it’s nearly time. You don’t want to be late.” “The first impression is very important, Joy. For some of those children, it will be the first time they have ever seen me. For some others, it will be their first day of lessons as an apprentice battle-mage,” I replied, turning back to the mirror. “I will leave nothing but my best impression each time winter returns, and the children come.” “Yes, and for the rest of them, they’ve seen you a hundred times before and all your primping is completely wasted. Now come,” Joy said, and grinned at me. I chuckled. “Well, I suppose you’re right. After all, they can see what I really look like beneath this garment of flesh, and most of them wouldn’t even notice what I was wearing. Still, it’s the principle of the thing. I want them to always know they’re important to me - because they are.” As Joy and I walked down the stairs, she spoke again. “I still find that very odd - that they can see more than we can see. What have you been able to discover of it?” than we can see. What have you been able to discover of it?” I shrugged. “Well, as you know, each of them is the result of the little enchanted bracer that Pelia and her women gave me,” I replied, patting my upper left arm where I wore the band beneath the sleeve of my robe. “The bracer allows me to begin a pregnancy within them, though I lack the equipment to otherwise do so - the enchantment responds to my male soul, which remains unchanged inside this body. The children themselves have nothing of me in them - their germ-plasm is entirely that of their mother, and they are more like twins than daughters. Still, because their lives were sparked with sorcery, their germ-plasm has been altered by sorcery. My best explanation, after studying their auras myself, is that they simply are more attuned to mana and astral emanations. They will be immensely powerful mages when they grow up, I think, as they each will have an innate understanding of mana-flow that even an apprentice with a strong Talent normally takes years to learn. They can see astral space and astral auras clearly and easily, Joy, just like I can with the Spell of Astral Vision or the spell of Astral Projection. Nothing is truly hidden from them - they can sense emotional states simply by glancing at one’s aura, and tell what’s really on someone’s mind just from the colors they see floating about them, which are directly them, which are directly derived from various factors of emotion, intellect and personality. More, their vision is uncannily penetrating and accurate. Normally, with a spell of astral vision, one can only see the aura cast by the body itself, and whatever enchantments happen to be upon it. All these children can see far more than that - they can see the very soul. They know what I really look like, simply because they can see my male soul housed within this body.” I shrugged again. “Still, it’s best to make light of it, I think. After all, it wouldn’t do to have them grow up thinking that they are in some way odd or strange - they may be that, for a human, but in truth, they are quite normal children, otherwise.” “I agree,” Joy replied, nodding. “Having lived as a child being treated as an oddity because I am so small, I can tell you that it is a terrible thing to experience.” Joy then grinned at me as we stood outside my tower, standing in the thin layer of snow which covered the ground. “And having raised two children myself, I can tell you that you make a wonderful father.” I rolled my eyes at her. “Please, Joy. That’s the one thing I can’t be for them. They spend the majority of the year with their mothers just so they’ll not think of me as ‘father’. Fate and the gods have meant that the gods have meant that our people are, for now, a race with only one gender, and to my courtesans I am much like a bee to dozens of flowers - they need my touch to reproduce, but the result is never another bee, always another flower. Perhaps someday that will change - perhaps Yorindar has some plan I am not aware of that will, eventually, solve this problem. I have already developed a refined version of Pelia’s spell that the Second Generation can use on themselves, once their numbers rise to the point where there simply are too many of them for me to act as the ‘bee’ to their ‘flowers’ - that, I accomplished ten years ago. Unfortunately, it takes a master mage to even attempt the spell, and none of them are even close to that level of power. So, for now…” I said, and shrugged. “Eventually, each of them will have to come to me and receive the same spell their mothers did, so that they may become mothers themselves. It would not do for them to all think of me as ‘father’, then have to turn to me later to become mothers, Joy,” I said, and lifted my head as we stood outside my tower. “I am their teacher, Joy. I add to the lessons their mothers have taught. In a few decades, each of them will be both a master healer and a master battle-mage, as well as the best researcher and scholar of magic I can possibly make them. I must maintain an air of propriety at all times, that they will grow up to be proper Hyperborean ladies and well- all times, that they will grow up to be proper Hyperborean ladies and well- educated, well-trained sorceresses. I am their teacher, Joy. Only that, and nothing more.” There was a shimmering in the air before us, and all eighty-nine of my courtesans appeared, along with their sixty daughters, all holding hands so Pelia could transport them with a single spell of returning. Pelia and her woman all smiled and called “Good morning, Eddas,” as did the eldest of their children, bowing their heads respectfully. The toddlers and infants, held in their mother’s arms, simply gaped - the experience of being translocated through sorcery was still a new one, for them. The rest, two dozen girls all ranging between two and ten, had a completely different reaction. They all immediately whooped with joy, dashed over to me and all tried to hug me at once, screaming “Daddy! Daddy!” My heart melted, and I went to my knees and gave each of them a hug. “Hello, my little darlings! How are you?” “Hello, daddy! We’re just fine!” chirped Myota, grinning broadly. “I learned how to whistle just like a sparrow! Wanna hear?” asked Molati.
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