I'll warn you know, this is long. Very long. So you might want to grab a drink and some popcorn before settling down. Anyways this is the start of my story Deep Magic and it has been edited severely from the parts I posted. It's weird when I think back how I was going to tell this story. First it was going to be just from a Lycerian's point of view, but then it moved to a Lycerian and a Torshen, but now it's focused on the Torshen, Stella. Anyways, I'm just rambling, and I'm sure you want to start reading this long thing. Enjoy.
Stella threw her brown leather bag on the bed and packed neatly the few small possessions the Torhsen army permitted her to have. After the bag was packed and the top tied off, she turned to regard her appearance in the mirror. Staring back at her was not a young woman, but a pale young man with hair cropped close in the style favored by the military and blue eyes hardened by years of hardship. She smoothed the creases out of the front of her deep red robes, and tightened the strap on her leather belt. Stella stared down at herself, glad for having a small chest, to make it easier to disguise herself as a man. Attaching the black scabbard to her belt, she slid her short sword into it with barely a whisper of steel on leather.
There was a heavy knock on the wooden door nearly making her jump in surprise. She took a deep breath, calming herself, and walked the two steps to the door and opened it. A soldier, a boy not quite to his second decade of life stood there with his fist raised to knock again. His face was pale, and his eyes kept staring at the ground. He looked like he wanted to be anywhere but here. “What do you want?” Stella asked the boy, using her magic to make her voice sound more like a man’s. She almost laughed loudly, seeing his frightened face, but kept her face in the tight mask of seriousness.
“Capt’n s-sent me to tell you we’re ready to m-move out,” the young man stammered. “H-he also says I am to convey his wishes that you hurry up s-so we may begin the day’s m-march.” Stella rolled her eyes, knowing that the boy probably gave a much nicer version of what Captain Ferrous said, for fear of bringing her wrath on his head. She knew Ferrous was a man who didn’t like disobedience, but as a mage, Stella could get away with almost anything as long as it wasn’t treason. So every now and then she liked to push his buttons.
“You can tell the Captain that I will be out shortly after I have finished packing,” Stella said crossing her arms. Stella took a step back into her room, slamming the door shut in the boy’s face with a small effort of magic. She waited till she could no longer heard his boots down the hall and before grabbing her already packed bag, and throwing her hood over her head. With a small gesture of her hand, all the candles in the room flickered out and the door opened back up for her on its own.
She walked down the hallway, her soft footsteps sounding like small explosions in the quiet corridor. The inn that Stella had made the Captain stop at was nice, and owned by a kind elderly couple. They weren’t too happy about playing host to a unit, but after Stella had handed them a heavy bag filled with exactly one hundred Stratos, they went about preparing a meal no one would forget. While everyone was busy stuffing their faces with the best meal they had in a long time, the innkeepers prepared their best rooms for Stella, Captain Ferrous, and a few of the senior officers.
“About bloody damn time, mage!” Captain Ferrous yelled, as Stella walked out of the inn, thanking the owners for their hospitality. The sun had barely begun to make its way over the tall trees of the Terran Forest. Captain Ferrous was at the front of the column sitting on his black horse, chest stuck out and chin held high. He was the perfect image for any military captain: clean shaven, closely cropped hair, the steel plates on his leather armor shining in the morning light, had physique of a man who could take on a bear, and he had the temperament that could scare dragon. He glared at Stella, his mouth set in his permanent frown. “When I say we move out at dawn, you better be fucking packed and ready before then!”
“And if you wish for me to remain in the service of your unit, I would suggest you keep your tone down with me,” Stella retorted coldly, returning his glare. She could see a muscle twitch in his cheek at her insubordination, but he knew he could do nothing about it. “I need my sleep. If I don’t get it, I’m sure headquarters would love to hear my complaints, and move me to another unit.” Captain Ferrous didn’t reply, but only stared back at her. He knew that within the army’s chain of command, he held more authority than her, but he was smart and new that a mage of Stella’s talents was not to be trifled with. Stella glanced at the rising sun and said, “I believe it’s time we move out, Captain.”
A soldier walked over to Stella, leading a pure white horse by its leather reins. It nuzzled her hand gently as she rubbed its nose, and then with a practiced motion, she climbed into the saddle, making herself as comfortable as she would ever get. Stella glanced over at the captain, letting him know she was ready, and he gave the order to march.
Like most marches, it was long and dull, or at least so Stella thought. Captain Ferrous was enjoying himself, turning around every now and then to yell at some foot soldier for falling behind or taking too long of drink from a canteen as it was passed around. He never said anything to Stella, but she was more than used to it after being in his unit for several months. If anything, she was happy he didn’t talk to her because she knew she wouldn’t stand a minute listening to all his complaints about everything.
The march took them along a path wide enough for five men to walk side-by-side in the heart of the Terran Forest. The trees stood taller than most buildings that Stella knew, and most of them were wide enough that not even ten men linking arms could wrap around it. As soon as midday passed, and the sun sank below the trees, an early twilight settled over them.
The only sign they had that night had truly fallen was when the sky began to fill up with stars. Only with Stella’s blue specter light could they see. Everything was cast in an eerie shadow; creatures seemed to hide behind every tree, just out of range of the light. An hour after the sun had set; Captain Ferrous called for a stop. Almost instantly the soldiers broke rank and began making camp. Some went off to prepare food, others to set up tents, and the rest started the first watch.
And that’s when the attack came.
It started off silent. A man stumbled up to Stella, his eyes wide and unstaring. At first she thought he had snuck a little whiskey from the inn in his pack, and was merely drunk, until he collapsed face first into the dirt. A throwing dagger stuck out of the middle of his back. On the hilt, a single mark was stamped into the metal: a wolf’s paw. The symbol of Lyceria. “We’re under attack!” Stella yelled, drawing her sword while summoning magic to her fingertips so that they glowed in a soft blue light.
“What is the meaning of this?” Captain shouted walking over. He had not bothered to put back on his armor and was naked from the waste up, but his sword was still attached to his belt. He stopped short when he saw the body. “To arms, everyone to arms! We’re under attack!” Stella heard the sound of swords being drawn, but knew it was too late when at least twenty wolf-like figures emerged from the darkness between the trees. Half the unit fell before they had a chance to defend themselves.
Stella knew the Lycerians, a wolf-like race who walked on two legs like the Torshens. They were a savage and uncivilized, feared by all Torshens. As if in slow motion, Stella watched as a Lycerian ran at her, sword held high ready to deal a killing blow. Stella summoned her magic and unleashed a ball of blue-white fire. It exploded against his chest, killing the wolf instantly, leaving him nothing more than a charred corpse. The shockwave from the blast sent two more of his people flying head first into the forest.
Stella blocked a cut at her neck on the flat of her blade, tilting it to the side so she didn’t absorb all the force. With magic-assisted speed, she returned the blow, slicing open the Lycerian’s neck to the bone. Stella sensed, more than saw, the furry black mass coming at her, but before she had a chance to defend herself, the Lycerian plunged his short sword into her shoulder. Before she could summon her magic to leave this creature nothing more than a pile of ashes, his heavy fist fell on her head. Just as she was losing consciousness, she watched the Lycerian yank his sword out of her, and she realized that she was actually going to die.
Daniel Fredrick, Master High Mage, was sitting at his vast mahogany desk in his study reading a recent paper on magical theory. A Journeyman claimed he had solved one of the biggest problems to all mages: the ability to create something from nothing. After a few pages into it, Daniel knew how he had pulled it off. He used a form of magic that some of the weaker mages use known as alchemy. Merely taking small amounts of matter from the objects around him and using them to form something new, making it appear as if he produced it from nothing. He made a mental note, to write to this person later, and explain what had actually happened.
He looked up from his paper as a knock came at the door and his servant poked his head in. “A child is here to see you, sir,” he said, bowing his head.
“Did he say what he wanted?” Daniel asked.
“She, sir,” the servant said. “And she has come asking you for lessons.” Daniel stared at the man almost certain that he was joking, but he knew his servant wasn’t the joking type. A young boy coming to him asking for lessons wasn’t new, but this was the first girl. “Should I send her away?” he asked when Daniel didn’t answer.
Daniel shook his head. “No, send her in.” The servant only nodded and shut the door behind him. He returned a few moments later, leading a girl no more than ten years old. She looked visibly scared as the servant shut the door behind him, leaving her alone with the mage, but her eyes burned with a strong fire of determination.
“Toren tells me you wish for me to teach you magic.” The girl only nodded, her long brown hair falling to cover her. “You do realize I only teach people capable of being high mage.” The girl squeaked out what might’ve been a yes. Daniel opened one of his drawers on his desk and pulled out a small white candle. Removing the half melted candle he used for reading at night out of the holder, he set the new one in. With a snap of his fingers, a flame flashed on the wick, burning a bright red. “I want you to do something. It’s a small test; see what kind of powers you have.” He held out the candle before her. The girl looked up, and stared at the flame.”All I need you to do is touch the candle. Anywhere you want. Understand?”
The girl nodded and reached out a shaking hand towards the candle. Almost as soon as her finger touched the wax, the fire went from red to emerald green, flaring up ten times its original size. The girl screamed and let go, falling to the floor.
Daniel could only stare in shock. This had never happened to him before, not even with his male students. This girl had more power than anyone he had seen before. He looked down at the girl, breathing heavy as she tried to regain her breath. She stared up at Daniel, fear in her eyes.
“What is your name, girl?” Daniel asked her.
“S-Stella,” the girl stammered, standing back up.
“I want you to come see me tomorrow,” he said. “Be here two hours before sunrise. You fail to be here on time, and I will refuse to teach you. Understood?” Stella nodded deeply, a smile stretched across her young face. “Now off with you, girl. Get plenty of sleep tonight.”
Stella woke with a start surrounded on all sides by trees, her chest heaving rapidly as it sucked in air to soothe her burning chest. She tried to push herself up, only to find her hands tied with what looked like black metal handcuffs. She noticed a sharp pain in her stomach, as if someone stabbed her there, but she was certain that the sword got nowhere near there. She looked down at her disheveled robes, they were soaked, but thanks to the color of her clothing she wasn’t sure what. Her rational mind assured her it was nothing; that they wouldn’t keep a dying person. At least she hoped they wouldn’t.
Trying to push the thought out her mind, she focused on escaping. They made a mistake taking a mage hostage, and she would make sure they regretted it. So with an effort of will, she released a small amount of magic that would destroy the bindings on her wrists. Nothing. In frustration, she released enough magic to level a small building, but only got the same result as before.
A growl came from behind her. If it wasn’t for the fact that she was bound and could barely move, she would’ve jumped out of her skin. She turned her head and looked up to see a Lycerian standing over her. Moonlight reflected off his black fur, except for a single white patch resting between two amber orbs. He wore nothing but the dark green cloak and belt that held the scabbard for his short sword, which, thankfully was still in it. At first she thought he was having a coughing fit till she saw, by the wolfish grin on his face, that he was laughing at her.
“You awake,” the wolf said in horrible Torshen, mostly accented with more growling than understandable words. “Cashka stone stop your death magic,” he said indicating to the handcuffs on Stella’s hands.
Stella cursed at her stupidity at not realizing it sooner. Cashka stones were an infamous tool used by the Lycerians. They could absorb large amounts of magic, rendering even a High Mage, whose talents made them more of a demi-god than a human, a mere mortal. Stella knew she could’ve overcome a small Cashka stone, but the ones on her wrist absorbed too much magic for her to even summon a slight breeze. It would be a fruitless to try any magic to destroy them, only succeeding in tiring herself out.
“You are female,” the wolf said, not as a question, but as a statement of fact. “You are in your moon bleed.” Stella took a second to wonder what he meant, but blushed in embarrassment and anger when she realized what he was talking about. Her robes were wet in blood, just not from what she expected. She moaned in pain as a cramp racked her gut, as if to remind her it was there. She forgot how much it hurt, and realized that after being handcuffed with a Cashka stones, what magic she used to suppress it was now gone. She let out another moan as it began making up for lost time.
The wolf turned around. “You are now a prisoner of Lyceria,” he said. “Try to escape, and we will kill you.” He walked away, stopping only talk to a brown furred wolf who Stella hadn’t noticed earlier. After a few quick growls in what Stella could only assume was the Lycerian language, the black wolf walked away, and the brown wolf made his way to Stella.
Stella was surprised by the brown wolf, or Watcher as she decided to call him since she couldn’t pronounce his real name. She had grown up, taught that the Lycerians were vicious monsters that her people been at war with for more than a century, but after spending time with Watcher, she knew her people were wrong about them. At least some of them, she thought, thinking about the black wolf.
Watcher was assigned to watch her, and make sure she didn’t escape. He reminded her more of a puppy she once had than a soldier. He always seemed full of energy and was curious about the world around him. Though Stella had no experience at judging a Lycerian’s age, but compared to the other Lycerians in this group, he looked very younger. As soon as he tied one end of a rope to her handcuffs and another to his belt, he began talking.
What surprised Stella even more than his demeanor though was how well he could speak the Torshen language. Where the black wolf had trouble getting understandable words out, Watcher spoke as if he had practiced for many years. He never asked her about herself, or said anything about himself, but talked about what was around him. Stella couldn’t help but smile a little, when she heard him talk. His ideas and thoughts wasn’t much different than her own, and made him seem more civilized than what she was taught. Every now and then, he would ask Stella for her opinion, and after the first few times of not receiving any answers he gave up, and moved on to a different topic.
At first Stella wanted nothing to do with the enemy of her people, she refused to talk, and even did her best to ignore Watcher, but after the first few days she found that no matter how much she tried, she couldn’t hate him. Stella found it hard to worry about what might happen to her with Watcher around. She laughed several times after he nearly took a plunge head first when he tripped on a tree root. Though with all of his clumsiness, he always seemed to appear out of nowhere when Stella began sneaking off when he wasn’t looking, even when she thought he was sleeping. He would quickly lead her back before anyone noticed, and leave her alone.
Day after day they marched, keeping a swift pace. Stella was exhausted at the end of each day trying to keep pace with her wolf captors. On the first night, she was afraid she would have to eat her meat raw like they did, but Watcher made sure that hers was always cooked, if a little burnt. She ate it anyways, not knowing when her next decent meal would be. Every morning she would wake, hardly feeling rested after sleeping on the hard ground, and every day they would travel further, leaving Stella more exhausted by the end of it all.
Just before night began to fall on the sixth day, they found themselves at the edge of the forest. Stella could sense another comment reading to burst from Watcher’s mouth, but the black wolf, who she had learned was named Grishka, came up and grabbed his muzzle roughly so he couldn’t talk. Grishka growled something in Lycerian to Watcher, whose ears hung back as though he was being reprimanded. Stella looked at him, hoping he would answer, but he only pointed to where the forest ended.
Stella’s jaw nearly dropped when she saw the Torshen village. It was only maybe a hundred feet away and she could see the lights glowing from inside the windows of the houses. She knew she had no hope of being spotted and rescued with the shadows of the trees hiding them perfectly.
A boy who couldn’t be any older than thirteen walked out of one of the wooden houses, his blonde hair glowing in the dying sunlight. He made his way towards the forest, making Stella want to scream at him to turn and run, but she knew it would only put him and his entire village in danger. Stella watched as the boy came up and walked several yards into the forest. He came so close Stella feared he would see them, but he only stopped at the stump of a fallen tree. He yanked out a knife that was stuck in there point first, inspected the edge, and stuck it in his belt. He turned around and made his way back to the house.
Stella sighed in relief, thankful that the boy had come no further. Watcher tugged on her rope, and without sound, he gestured for her to come on. They traveled later that night than they did the night before, trying to put distance between them and the village. Though Stella was glad the boy and the village weren’t attacked, she couldn’t help feeling sad that a chance of escape had come so close and she wasn’t even able to take advantage of it.
They stopped that night in a clearing next to a running river. Watcher sat Stella down by a tree, tying the rope to a stake in the ground. He returned a while later with a canteen of water, and with his help, gave Stella a drink. She drank deeply, getting as much down as she could without spilling it all over herself. He took a quick swig for himself, and passed it off to another wolf, before sitting across from Stella.
“Stella, I want to ask you something,” Watcher said, his voice taking a different tone than normal.
Stella nodded, but realized he probably couldn’t see her and said, “Yes.”
“Can you bring back the dead?” His question had completely thrown Stella off. She had not expected this.
“Why?” was the only thing Stella could get out.
“A few years ago, my brother was in our army,” he said, ears tilting back. “He was walking by a human village much like we were today, but they were caught. It happens a mage lived with these people and managed to fight them off. The entire unit fled, but not before my brother was killed.”
“Then why don’t you hate me?” Stella asked, trying to throw him off the original question.
“I don’t hate you. Yes, I hate what your kind did to him, but I can’t help feeling that it’s my own race’s fault as well.” Stella could see the moonlight reflect off his amber eyes and saw all the hurt and worry in them, and how they asked her for help. “So, is it possible to bring back the dead?”
Stella bit her lip in thought for moment, wondering how to answer. “It’s not something we’re taught,” she began. “It’s considered a foul crime, and many people are executed for it. All I know is that a mage has the ability to reanimate a body, but all it is is a walking shell, something with no spirit. As far as I know, it’s impossible to bring a spirit back from the afterlife, even for a High Mage like me.”
Watcher sat there, unmoving. Finally, with almost no emotion, he said, “You should get some sleep, we’ll be marching early in the morning.”
As Watcher promised, the march began early. Though she didn’t know Watcher for very long, Stella knew that the answer she had given him last night bothered him. The few times he would look at her, she could see in his eyes that whatever hope he had before he asked the question was gone. The entire day passed without him saying a word, and Stella did not push him into conversation.
They traveled far along the edge of the forest passing several villages along the way. Like the one the day before none seemed to notice the presence of the enemy walking close by. Stella also noted the lack of young men in all the villages. She knew that the war required them to serve, but she had never grown up in a small village, so the lack of any who were either too young to serve or too old to be any use in the army, surprised her.
As they passed the fifth village of the day, Stella watched a woman, only a few years older than her, hanging clothes up on a line with a young boy clinging to her skirt, and another in the crook of her arms. Stella began to wonder how things would’ve turned out if she had decided to stay at home. What if she didn’t leave her family to join the army disguised as man? What if she had instead married the good man her parents had chosen and then watched him sent off to war, while carrying his child so that his line could continue? What if she was that woman, everyday worrying that this might be the day she is brought the news of her husband’s death?
She shook her head, knowing it wouldn’t do any good thinking about what might’ve been. Her mind was pulled out of her thoughts by a sharp tug on the rope. She looked up to see Watcher staring at her curiously. She stared back, doing her best to keep her face blank. His ears swiveled forward in a curious gesture, but he didn’t say anything. He merely tugged on his end of the rope again, and they continued.
That night it got cold, colder than Stella was ever used to feeling living in the Southern region of Torsha. Her thin, mud splattered robes did nothing to ward off the cold, if anything, she felt as if it were helping it creep in. With no magic at all to keep her body warm, she huddled against a tree and shivered till sleep finally took her.
Watcher wrapped his cloak over Stella shivering body. Her pale skin seemed to almost glow in the moonlight as he stared at her. He stood as her shivering slowly ceased and turned, finding himself face to face with Grishka. The black wolf stared at, as if calculating what he was seeing.
“I hope you aren’t getting too attached to the Torshen,” Grishka growled. “Remember, she’s the enemy.” Watcher nodded, but kept quiet. “So, can she do it?”
Watcher hesitated for a second and then replied, “No. She said she could bring back the body, but never the soul.”
“Then she’s of no use to us,” Grishka said without emotion, drawing his sword without even a whisper of steel.
“No!” Watcher growled. “I can still get more information out of her, she can still be useful.”
“You know what the Alpha’s orders were,” Grishka said stepping forward. “If she can’t do it, kill her.”
“Grishka, I order you to stand down and put your sword away,” Watcher said, standing in front of Grishka. “I know what my father said, but I also know that he would agree that there is more information we can get out of her.”
“Don’t presume you can order me around, pup,” Grishka growled, but he put his sword away. “This may be your mission, but these are my Sharqi and I’m their Sharqiken. These wolves will follow my orders, not yours.”
“We’ll keep her alive,” Watcher said, un-phased by Grishka’s threat. “I’ll try to gather more information out of her.” Watcher turned away, walking over to a large tree and sitting down. “And Grishka, if you harm her in any way without my consent, I’ll make sure you are executed for treason.”
“As you command, sire,” Grishka growled, with a mocking bow in the Torshen manor before turning his tail to Watcher and walked away. Normally, Watcher would have someone whipped for insolence like that, but this mission wasn’t over yet, and he still needed Grishka and his soldiers. With a sigh he curled up, making sure he could still see Stella and let sleep take him.
“No, no, no, Stella,” Master Daniel said as Stella exploded her tenth small Destra stone. He brushed the fragments into the bin, and set another one on the table. Thirteen-year-old Stella glared at the tiny blue stone which had been giving her problems the past few days. “Let’s try this again. Now repeat after me: My mind is empty.”
“My mind is empty,” Stella said sourly, still glaring at the blue stone.
“There is nothing in my mind except for my task.” Stella repeated him again with very little enthusiasm as she had several days ago. “My mind needs to be solely focused on this task, for if I do not, I will die.” When Stella finished the last line, Master Daniel nodded. “Keep repeating that and pour in as much magic you can, compressed into a point small enough to fit in the hollow.”
Stella sighed and stared hard at the stone. She said slowly the mantra her teacher had taught her while compressing all the energy she could into a point inside the stone. The Destra stone slowly began to fade from blue to red as more and more of her power was poured into it. Soon it was glowing blood red, and without warning it exploded. Stella screamed in shock, bracing herself, but she did not need to fear as the stone fragments hit an invisible shield and fell onto the table.
“Better,” Master Daniel said. “I think that’s enough for today. I’ll have to go get more Destra stones if you keep this up, girl,” he said with a trace of laughter in his voice. Stella only glared at him, not finding it funny. She crossed her arms and stormed out of the room, tears flowing out of her eyes.
Daniel walked out of the room after Stella, finding her sitting at his kitchen table. Her body shook in a sob as she cried. Her teacher walked up to her and lightly laid his hands on her shoulder.
“Stop your crying, girl,” he said softly.
“I’m never going to be good as the boys, aren’t I?” Stella sobbed. “I should just quit!”
“You quit and you’ll never forgive yourself,” Daniel said. “You may not be the most skilled student I have taught, but you show more potential than any of the others. You have more determination than anyone I have seen. You may never get as powerful as the rest of them, but I promise you that you’ll become better than all of them.” Stella sniffled a little, and turned to look at her teacher. Her eyes were red and swollen, but they now shone with the fire that Daniel remembered when he started teaching her three years ago. “Go get cleaned up. I don’t want to send you home looking like that, and then I’ll get you something to eat on the way home. Ok?” Stella nodded and wiped her eyes on her sleeve, a smile now on her face.
Stella woke up some time before dawn. She looked down and saw the Lycerian cloak cover her body, and she was shocked by how soft and warm it was. Over by another tree, not too far from her, Watcher lay curled up on the ground without his cloak, his furred chest rose up and down slowly in sleep. With a sigh, Stella laid her head down and drifted back into sleep.
If you read all the way to this end, I thank you.
