grey sky. Waldo had witnessed several eruptions and thought them beautiful beyond words. He loved the city of Alter, with its clean and logical design. The squat, identical houses packed in their neat rows, the avenues that all ran in perfect lines, the city was a monument to order and control. He didn’t get to actually visit it often, but he could stare at its lovely symmetry for hours from his window. It was a beautiful.
In this world power was everything.
From the time he was a child he’d been taught not to fear death; only weakness. Being weak was the only unforgivable sin. Waldo wanted to be strong. Not really for himself, but for his family and for his mother. He did not want to fail or bring them shame. For the sake of his family, he wanted to be a great Dark Mage.
His mother had, had a total of seven children, of which he was the youngest and only one still currently alive. Four were dead and two (including Walter) were mostly dead. They had all died violent deaths, none of them living to reach nineteen. All had been born with the gift of summoning mana and an ability to use magic.
Their individual talents had differed. Roland (who Waldo did not remember) had specialized in fire magic. Gwen had taken after mom and been a natural at necromancy. Walter had always had a gift at summoning and controlling monsters. All of them had been talented with great potential. All of them had been a credit to their House.
Waldo thought about his own abilities and let out a frustrated grunt.
Healing and protection magic, that was what he was best at. He had absolutely no talent at necromancy, he couldn’t even reanimate a mouse. Whenever he attempted any sort of destructive spell it always went horribly wrong… and not even in the good sort of horribly wrong. When he tried to summon monsters…
He let out another frustrated sigh.
The ability to use magic was, in itself, a rare trait in humans. When it manifested, it differed from person to person, both in depth and in direction. Some would never have the strength to do much more than levitate a book or light a candle. Others could summon giants or tear open the earth. The amount of mana a person could draw was an inborn ability. You could learn spells and train to draw the energy more easily; but the limit was in your blood.
There were written spells and incantations, rules of magic, runes, and wards; things that a magic user could learn and study. Spellbooks, wands, rods, magical rings, scrolls, and other items made casting certain spells easier. Yet magic was much more of an art than a science. In theory every magic user should have been capable of casting any spell, so long as it did not require too much mana. In practice it was nothing like that. The sorts of spells a wizard could work were a reflection of his soul.
Waldo stood. The summoning circle was perfect. He would bring forth a homunculus and bind it to his will. Being sixteen, it was long past time to have his own familiar. He began performing the required hand gestures and spoke the incantation. “ Ithkaros venti setarros abro homoculi tenos arrilo venti sem apparos !”
The circle and the symbols he had so carefully chalked suddenly blazed with light. He felt the mana flow out of him and into the circle.
It’s going to work this time! I know it! Waldo thought.
The interior of the circle vanished, as space and time were momentarily shattered.
“Bring me my servant!” Waldo shouted into the void.
Bending to his will the spell brought forth a living creature.
“Chirp. Chirp. Chirp.”
There within the summoning circle was a confused blue bird.
“Oh not again!”
XXX
Six skeletons in rusted chainmail walked along the hall. With each step the scabbards attached to their bony hips clicked. These were just a handful of the guards who protected Castle Corpselover. They would patrol these corridors again and again and
In this world power was everything.
From the time he was a child he’d been taught not to fear death; only weakness. Being weak was the only unforgivable sin. Waldo wanted to be strong. Not really for himself, but for his family and for his mother. He did not want to fail or bring them shame. For the sake of his family, he wanted to be a great Dark Mage.
His mother had, had a total of seven children, of which he was the youngest and only one still currently alive. Four were dead and two (including Walter) were mostly dead. They had all died violent deaths, none of them living to reach nineteen. All had been born with the gift of summoning mana and an ability to use magic.
Their individual talents had differed. Roland (who Waldo did not remember) had specialized in fire magic. Gwen had taken after mom and been a natural at necromancy. Walter had always had a gift at summoning and controlling monsters. All of them had been talented with great potential. All of them had been a credit to their House.
Waldo thought about his own abilities and let out a frustrated grunt.
Healing and protection magic, that was what he was best at. He had absolutely no talent at necromancy, he couldn’t even reanimate a mouse. Whenever he attempted any sort of destructive spell it always went horribly wrong… and not even in the good sort of horribly wrong. When he tried to summon monsters…
He let out another frustrated sigh.
The ability to use magic was, in itself, a rare trait in humans. When it manifested, it differed from person to person, both in depth and in direction. Some would never have the strength to do much more than levitate a book or light a candle. Others could summon giants or tear open the earth. The amount of mana a person could draw was an inborn ability. You could learn spells and train to draw the energy more easily; but the limit was in your blood.
There were written spells and incantations, rules of magic, runes, and wards; things that a magic user could learn and study. Spellbooks, wands, rods, magical rings, scrolls, and other items made casting certain spells easier. Yet magic was much more of an art than a science. In theory every magic user should have been capable of casting any spell, so long as it did not require too much mana. In practice it was nothing like that. The sorts of spells a wizard could work were a reflection of his soul.
Waldo stood. The summoning circle was perfect. He would bring forth a homunculus and bind it to his will. Being sixteen, it was long past time to have his own familiar. He began performing the required hand gestures and spoke the incantation. “ Ithkaros venti setarros abro homoculi tenos arrilo venti sem apparos !”
The circle and the symbols he had so carefully chalked suddenly blazed with light. He felt the mana flow out of him and into the circle.
It’s going to work this time! I know it! Waldo thought.
The interior of the circle vanished, as space and time were momentarily shattered.
“Bring me my servant!” Waldo shouted into the void.
Bending to his will the spell brought forth a living creature.
“Chirp. Chirp. Chirp.”
There within the summoning circle was a confused blue bird.
“Oh not again!”
XXX
Six skeletons in rusted chainmail walked along the hall. With each step the scabbards attached to their bony hips clicked. These were just a handful of the guards who protected Castle Corpselover. They would patrol these corridors again and again and
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