Zenith of Sorcery

Chapter 11: Test of Time

There was a connection. It took more than a week, and the feeling was very faint, but he could finally sense a connection between himself, the river turtle, and the willow tree. What’s more, once the connection formed, he could feel it strengthening rapidly with every passing day.

Marcus experimented with the new sensation every single day, whenever he had some free time. It was a curious thing, this connection. He could not look into the mind of the turtle and read its thoughts, nor could he tap into its senses and see through its eyes. He could sense the state of its soul, which gave him insights into its current emotional state and how healthy it was at the moment, but that was all. It could be because it was just an animal, or because the connection was not yet strong enough, but his gut told him no. Soul seeds and their link to him were a new experience, but he had tried hundreds of different spells over the years and had developed something of an instinct when judging new ones. He could guess pretty reliably what their limitations and restrictions were, even after just trying them, and that experience told him that the link between him and his two test dummies was fundamentally limited. He would never be able to use the connection to spy on their minds, seize control over their bodies, or spiritually attack them.

But he could use other spells that specifically did those things, using the connection as a conduit – one that allowed him to completely ignore distance restrictions. He tested that by casting a number of trivial, harmless spells on the turtle through the connection. He was pretty sure they worked, since he could feel the turtle’s soul quivering slightly as it freaked out over what was happening to it, but it was admittedly hard to tell if they worked exactly as intended without being there to witness it in person.

He strongly suspected that spells cast through this connection also bypassed most forms of defensive magic as well, but since neither the turtle nor the willow had any defenses, he was unable to test that.

All in all, these experiments did not exactly put Marcus’s mind at ease regarding what Sacred Oak could do to him. He was sure there was more to the connection than just being a spell conduit, but even if it was just that, that was still extremely dangerous. The tree had thousands of spells in its arsenal. Though… would such spells be somehow undetectable just because they were cast through his connection with the Sacred Oak?

The answer was almost certainly no. At least, Marcus couldn’t think of any reason why this would be the case. He couldn’t detect the soul seed because it had become a part of his soul by now, and presumably didn’t even exist as a separate entity from him, but if Sacred Oak ever cast a spell of any kind on him, he would likely detect it immediately, even if he couldn’t stop it from happening.

Marcus couldn’t recall a situation where a spell had ever suddenly appeared on him out of nowhere. He would have definitely remembered such an incident vividly, especially if it had kept happening periodically. Didn’t that mean that Sacred Oak hadn’t used their connection to cast anything on him? But then how was it getting anything out of him? The tree said it learned everything Marcus learned. Marcus wasn’t learning everything the river turtle was learning, and he doubted he would once the connection between them solidified either.

There was something he was missing here. He could talk to the tree again, but he wanted to get answers on his own if possible. It was too early to give up and beg for guidance. He also tried to map his own connection to the Sacred Oak, using what he had learned from the willow and the turtle, but he couldn’t even find the connection, much less follow it back to the source. That said, he had fully expected things to be this way, so this didn’t frustrate him. If the connection was that simple, Marcus would have already detected it long ago.

Overall, he was pleased by his progress on that front. What he was less pleased about was the rest of his week, which consisted of going from one meeting to another to talk to people who clearly didn’t like him very much. It wasn’t like all these fellow elders and Great Sea officials had some important issue they had to discuss with Marcus, they mostly just wanted to get a handle on his personality and opinions after his return from exile. Marcus understood why this was important – you had to make sure your powerful spirit-adepts hadn’t gone crazy or decided they hated you during their long absence, because then you had a situation on your hands – but it was still a giant waste of his time, and he resented them for it. He didn’t intend to stay on Adria or be active in Great Sea politics, so many of their questions were pointless and exhausting. Especially since many of them had similar concerns, yet didn’t talk to each other before speaking to him, making him repeat himself many, many times.

That said, the people he spoke to were more respectful than he had expected them to be. He thought that since he had left on such bad terms, and had so thoroughly been shut out from the current ruling powers of Great Sea, that they would feel superior to him and treat him with barely restrained contempt. Perhaps even open contempt. However, aside from some snide comments here and there, his fellow elders were cold but polite. The main point of contention was that they didn’t believe him when he said he intended to stay away from Great Sea’s internal politics.

“The allure of building an abode in some isolated place and shutting out the world is common among mages,” one elder told him. “Unfortunately, the world is rarely inclined to play along with such fantasies.”

There was some truth to such statements, Marcus reflected, especially since he was about to get a bunch of students. Apprentices had a tendency to get their teachers into trouble. Still, he felt he wasn’t being unreasonable. In a way, he had the support of academy leadership in his resolution to stay away, since Gaius surely didn’t want him gaining political power either.

In any case, after spending a week on nonsense like that, he felt his task here in Adria was done. He had soothed the fears of his fellow elders and it was unlikely the academy would take a unified hostile stance towards him, which was all he really wanted. It was time to leave. He tracked down Beortan to one of the small arenas in the west side of the city, where young adepts dueled each other for the entertainment of the crowds, and sat down beside him.

“I will be heading back to Elora tomorrow,” he told Beortan without preamble. “There is no need to ferry me back. I just wanted to let you know I’m leaving.”

“Humph,” Beortan responded.

Marcus wished he could say he knew his old friend long enough to interpret that undecipherable grunt, but the truth was he had no idea what that was supposed to mean. It didn’t seem like an angry grunt at least.

“Please talk to me like a normal person, Beortan,” Marcus complained.

“I’m watching the fight,” Beortan told him, his eyes fixated at the two mages fighting in the arena below. “Wait until the intermission, at least.”

Marcus focused on the fight in the arena, trying to see what had so captured Beortan’s attention. He couldn’t see it. It was just two rank one mages hurling elemental projectiles clumsily at each other. One of them was using a fairly typical fire bolt spell, while the other was using some slow-moving frost ball that didn’t explode. In the mana-rich environment suffusing Adria, such simple spells could be sustained almost indefinitely, so this fight was mostly just a matter of who would be the first to make a mistake while dodging the opponent’s spell.

The audience seemed to mostly agree with Marcus, because most of the seats around them were empty and there was very little cheering or noise coming from the audience. It seemed to be mostly a filler fight in-between actually exciting bouts. Though each of the mages seemed to have at least a couple of friends that kept shouting encouragements and hurling insults at the opposing side.

“This is a boring fight,” Marcus commented.

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“Unfortunately,” Beortan said, learning back in his seat. “I considered taking the ice elementalist as my apprentice, but if this is the best he has to offer, I’m not interested. A shame.”

“You wanted to take an outsider as an apprentice?” Marcus asked curiously. “Don’t you have a small legion of candidates back in your clan?”

“It’s good to shake things up sometimes,” Beortan said. “The clan has gotten quite complacent and insular as of late.”

“You aren’t afraid they would do something to your new student?” Marcus asked.

“They wouldn’t do anything too extreme,” Beortan said dismissively. “And if the apprentice is truly worthy of my tutelage, they’d rise to the challenge and win my clan’s respect despite some minor setbacks thrown their way.”

Minor setbacks, right…

In the arena below, the match was drawing to a close. The ice ball throwing wizard succumbed to exhaustion and tripped slightly while dodging one of the fireballs. His opponent seized on the opportunity, and not long after the match was declared in his favor.

Beortan didn’t seem upset, even though it could be argued that his side lost.

“Speaking of which, have you considered my request yet?” Beortan asked him.

“I did,” Marcus said. “I will take one of your clan as my apprentice.”

“You will?” Beortan seemed honestly surprised.

“I’ll let you pick one for me, but the usual conditions apply – they must be at least a little compatible with the Soul Tree Technique, and if they slack off or make trouble for me, I’ll send them back to you,” Marcus said.

“Don’t give me that nonsense. If they slack off or make trouble, just hit them until they learn their lesson,” Beortan told him. “Our clan doesn’t tolerate slackers and trouble-makers. They should already know better.”

Marcus resisted the urge to rub his forehead. Teachers using physical violence to enforce discipline was quite normal in the academy, but Marcus was of the opinion that beatings were not a good motivational tool.

No matter. Beortan was a good friend and Marcus trusted his judgment. The rumors about mountain tribes being a bunch of fur-clad savages with a might-makes-right mentality were just prejudiced exaggerations. Surely the man wouldn’t send him a bunch of little menaces that only respected threats of immediate violence to keep them behaved.

Surely.

“Anyway, what about Publius and Fabius? Are you also taking their children as students?” Beortan asked after a second or so. “Well, grandchild in the case of Publius, but you know what I mean.”

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“No,” Marcus said, shaking his head. “I met with them privately and, after speaking to the children they wanted me to teach, I told them no. They were disappointed, but not too much.”

There was a lot of disinformation floating around regarding how hard it was to become a mage or other adept. Some people claimed one had to be blessed by the heavens upon birth, or carry a prestigious bloodline. Others claim that every single person could become an excellent adept, if only they could find a foundational technique perfectly suited for them.

What was indisputable was that there were far more children capable of becoming a mage or a warrior than there were resources available to support them and skilled teachers willing to take them under their wing. Meaning there was a huge glut of candidates, and mages who took on apprentices could afford to be picky about it. Publius and Fabius probably never actually expected Marcus to agree to their requests. If they could secure a powerful mage as a teacher for their relatives, great! If not, well… it didn’t hurt to ask.

“What was the issue?” Beortan asked curiously. “Did they exaggerate how good they were or what?”

“They definitely exaggerated how good they are. You know how it is,” Marcus said. Parents always thought their children were way better than they actually were. “That isn’t an issue. Most of my students will come from the orphanage, and their talents will likely be nothing special.”

A lot of powerful mages like Marcus refused to accept students that didn’t have something special going for them: a bloodline ability, a prestigious family line, a suitable elemental affinity, an amazing compatibility for their foundational technique, or an incredibly high talent for magic in general. Exceptions were made for children of friends and relatives, but it was otherwise agreed that a person needed to be something quite special to attract the attention of a spirit-rank mage.

However, Marcus didn’t intend to be that picky. Great talents were hard to find, and he didn’t want to spend years and years searching for just the right student to impart his teachings to. Even if Publius’s and Fabius’s relatives had mediocre potential, Marcus would not turn them away just because of that.

“The problem was in their attitude. Publius’s granddaughter is decently talented – not as much as Publius had praised her, but enough that she’ll probably secure herself a spot in the Great Sea Academy in a few years. However, she is clearly a very sheltered girl who just wants to hang out with her friends and enjoy life in a big city like Adria. I don’t think she cares too much about becoming a mage. It’s just something that everyone’s expected of her ever since she showed decent magical talent from a young age. When we talked, she seemed horrified at the prospect of losing all of her friends to move in with a bunch of orphans and a stranger she doesn’t even know. Even her parents seemed hesitant about the idea. I don’t want to deal with all that.”

“Fair,” Beortan nodded.

“As for Fabius’s son, he doesn’t want to be a mage. He wants to be a warrior, like his father,” Marcus continued. “His father disapproves. I’m sure you’re aware of this, but while all adepts get a lot of respect from the mundane citizenry, mages are considered more prestigious than warriors and other martial adepts.”

This wasn’t something unique to the Great Sea Academy, in all fairness. It was like that all over the Silver League, and even in the Eastern Lands. There were a lot of reasons for this, but the main one was that warriors rarely achieved higher ranks of power. Becoming a warrior was easier than becoming a mage, and warriors got more benefits out of being an adept early on, but the higher one climbed in ranks, the more the situation reversed itself. For every spirit-rank warrior like Timijan, there were five or more spirit manifestation mages.

It was virtually always better to have a handful of really powerful adepts instead of an army of weaker ones. Therefore, it was arguably natural for mages to be valued higher than warriors and other adepts, and Fabius was far from the only warrior who pushed his children to become mages instead of continuing the family tradition.

“It speaks well of Fabius as a father that his children want to walk down the same path as him, even if he disapproves,” Beortan commented. “It means they admire him.”

“But I am not a warrior, and cannot teach his son to be one,” Marcus said.

“True. I think you did the right thing in refusing,” Beortan said. “My perspective is different because I come from a mountain tribe where warriors are more respected than here in civilized lands, but I think Fabius is making a mistake. By trying to dissuade his son from following in his footsteps he is severing his martial legacy, shaming his teachers and ancestors.”

“What about people who fell on the path before they had a chance to take on a student?” Marcus asked.

“They cannot be faulted in this,” Beortan answered. “Accidents and tragedies are inevitable. Hopefully they have brothers and sisters who will continue their legacy in their stead. Otherwise, it is the fault of their teachers for not passing on the techniques and spells to enough people to continue the legacy in spite of hardships on the horizon.”

Marcus didn’t say anything to that. It was hardly the first time Marcus had heard such opinions, yet he knew there were legacies being lost around them every single year. The competition for space and resources was fierce, and there were many casualties. Many of these legacies were just variations of existing ones, so arguably it was not a big loss, but still.

When Marcus was young, his teachers had told him that history was a constant state of decline. Every generation was worse than the previous one, less glorious and more steeped in corruption and sin. Marcus didn’t really take that to heart, then or now, but he couldn’t help but idly wonder whether the number of legacies in the world was increasing or decreasing each day.

“Oh yes,” Beortan suddenly said, breaking him out of his musings. “I did what you asked and looked around for a place you could build your school on. I think I found a perfect place – it’s a tiny academy on the northern edge of Elora that has fallen on hard times recently. They were all but destroyed during the Second Academy War, and the last two remaining mages have been looking to sell the place. I understand the place is in bad condition, and there are no significant resources nearby, but you said that didn’t matter to you.”

Beortan had never actually set foot on the place personally, but he did show him a bunch of crude drawings and pointed at the spot on the map where the academy was located. It did look good… on paper, at least.

“I am not paying anything until I visit the place in person to confirm this place is actually what the owners claim it is,” Marcus said. “But it does look perfect at first glance. What is it with the name, though? Amethyst Academy?”

Adept organizations had all kinds of weird names, but usually these names weren’t nonsense – they hinted at the kind of magic the academy focused on. A name like Amethyst Academy would suggest they dabble in gem magic, but Marcus knew for a fact that only one academy practiced gem magic to any significant degree, that being Crystal Mountain. They guarded those spells very jealously…

“You can change the name to something else,” Beortan said. “You’re buying the land and the building, not their legacy. The current owners understand this is the end of the line for their school. They don’t expect buyers to continue their traditions.”

That wasn’t what Marcus was worried about, but he decided not to pursue the topic with Beortan.

It was probably nothing.

* * * *

Marcus returned to Elora, this time relying on his own flight capabilities instead of a griffin or some other magical beasts.

His first stop was at the Great Tree Academy, where he asked Titus for a favor in investigating possible sites for school, including the failing Amethyst Academy that Beortan mentioned. While the Great Tree Academy wasn’t a major power, Elora was their home ground, and they surely had a lot of insight into what made for a good location for a base of operations. He still intended to check up every place personally to see if it suited his tastes, but he needed some way to narrow down the selection. Titus was very accommodating to his request, even suggesting some more places himself.

He then went to the orphanage and told Pliny that he would stay there for a couple of days while he waited for Titus to report back to him about the places he mentioned. Officially, he was just resting. Unofficially, he was observing the children of the orphanage as they went about their day and interacted with one another. He did that both by walking around in the open, seeing how they reacted to his presence, and by using invisible eyes and rock beetles to spy on them when they thought no one was looking. One day he quietly sat in the back of the room during their history lessons with Pliny, the next day he helped Pliny fix up the walls of the orphanage with his earth magic, and on the third day he left to explore the nearby forest and returned in the evening with a whole boar to roast over the fire for everyone’s enjoyment.

The children didn’t initially know what to make of all this, but some of them already thought he was looking for a student even during his first visit here, and it wasn’t long before they all reached a consensus that this was definitely what was happening. They had no real proof of this, they just repeated this idea between one another until they were all convinced it had to be true. Amusingly, they were convinced only one lucky child would have the honor to be chosen.

Less amusingly, this generation of orphans was quite friendly with the children in the nearby Willowhill village, and Marcus got to observe first-hand how quickly and efficiently rumors spread from the orphanage – first from the orphans to village children, then from said children to their parents, then to the neighboring villages, and beyond.

No wonder the rumor of his searching for a student spread so far after his first visit.

“Cricket seems to be doing well,” Marcus remarked to Pliny one evening.

Marcus had spoken to the girl not long after arriving to see how she was faring. She admitted to him that she had gotten into a fight with one of the girls on her second day at the orphanage, but she refused to say over what. She liked the orphanage, she said, but she didn’t like that Pliny was stopping her from exploring the forest around the orphanage on her own.

“She’s a hard-working girl,” Pliny told him. “Likes gardening, which is rare. Unfortunately, her reading and writing skills are terrible, and her interest in history is about the same as yours was when you were her age.”

“I developed an appreciation for history as I aged,” Marcus told him. “And speaking of which, did you ever hear anything about Grandfather Trees, elves of the Silver Aeon, or our world being named Chaoswood?”

Pliny tapped his chin speculatively for a few seconds, frowning here and there.

“I did hear a bit about the ancient Empire of the Silver Aeon,” Pliny remarked finally.

“Are they from the time of the First Abyssal Incursion?” Marcus asked.

“No, far earlier than that,” Pliny shook his head. “They were a truly ancient state. They existed around the time of the Sphere Builders. A controversial codex written by Elphex the White claims they were already an ancient and powerful state by the time the first Sphere Builders showed up on Tasloa.”

“Huh,” Marcus said slowly, trying to process that. “So what happened to them? I mean, they’re obviously gone, right?”

“Depends on who you ask,” said Pliny. “But it is said that the core of their realm was located in the center of our continent, right where the Sea of Leaves currently resides.”

Marcus was taken aback at that statement.

“I traversed the Sea of Leaves quite recently,” Marcus remarked. “I know I didn’t do a detailed search, but I didn’t see any remnant of a glorious magical civilization there. Elven or otherwise.”

“You aren’t the first one to make that observation,” Pliny told him. “It is for this reason that some historians argue against their existence, claiming them to be a mere myth. However, the official history endorsed by the Illuminated Temple includes them in their timeline, so it would seem the gods vouch for their existence. If so, someone must have gone to great efforts to erase every trace of their existence from the Sea of Leaves. Only the gods know what terrible enemy they provoked to deserve such a fate, and they aren’t saying anything about it.”

Afterwards, the topic of the talk turned towards the upcoming judging ceremony where Marcus would pick his new students. Pliny was organizing things behind the scenes, but Marcus had some ideas of his own about how to go about doing this. Especially now that he had some time to observe the orphans. However, some of his ideas were a bit… unusual.

He described his ideas in great detail to Pliny, wanting to hear his opinion. Pliny listened to it all in silence, and once Marcus was done, he continued staring at him.

“Err,” Marcus said, eventually feeling a little put off by Pliny’s silent stare. “I know this is all a little unorthodox, but-“

“No, no, there is nothing wrong with this,” Pliny interrupted him. “I’m just thinking about how we could set this up. Some of the ideas are a little extreme and will have to be toned down, but I understand what you’re trying to do. You’re testing their courage and willpower in addition to everything else. However, I hope you’re aware that this could potentially fail every single candidate at the judging ceremony, yes?”

“They don’t have to pass the tests,” Marcus said. “Just do better than the other candidates. Which ideas do you think are a problem?”

“Well for one thing, making them face an illusory monster is liable to result in most of them running away screaming, no matter how clearly you explain it can’t actually hurt them,” Pliny remarked. “Perhaps an animal like a viper or a stray dog might be more appropriate? And forcing children to ascend a set of stairs under the effect of increasingly powerful gravity magic could easily result in broken bones, not to mention it would require us to build an entirely unnecessary set of stairs. A simple strip of flat ground should be enough of a challenge…”

And so it went.