Read Online The Jade Mage: The Becoming: Volume 1 by William D. Latoria - Free Book Online
Authors: William D. Latoria
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work! It HAD to work! Finally! After years of nothing, he would finally resume his training! After a moment, Tartum regained control of himself and calmed down. Looking up, he saw all around him the lightning bugs he would need, for his spell and knew that he must do it tonight. Isidor would be awake tomorrow, and if he caught him enchanting his staff, he would start asking questions that would lead to Tartum revealing his plans, or Isidor stopping him completely. Isidor couldn’t find out about this, until the moment it was too late! Picking his master up and slinging him over his shoulder, Tartum brought him back home and put him to bed.
Not wasting another second, Tartum gathered up every last bit of suphur and pinecone in the wagon’s storage area, then, he grabbed up his skin of chicken blood. There was a decent amount left inside. It would have to be enough. There was no waiting for the butcher to open his stall. Tartum prayed it was enough!
Gathering his staff, Tartum ran outside to the site behind the wagon, where his first enchantment had been successful. Thrusting his staff’s blunted point, deep into the ground, where the coin had been last night, he carefully drew the glyphs with the chicken blood, just had he’d done before. Next, he placed the pinecones and sulphur in there respective places and encircled them as well. Then, dropping everything else, Tartum ran out into the woods and began the task of gathering up the bugs. After about twenty minutes, Tartum had gathered around eighty of the bugs and assumed that would be enough. The jar he had to contain them was full to bursting.
Placing the bugs north of the staff and drawing the glyphs around them, Tartum inspected his work; everything looked exactly like it did the night prior. The components were ready, and as Tartum was finishing drawing the glyphs that connected the three circles to the one in the middle, a strange calm overtook him. He knew this would work, after all his planning, his years of study and failure. All of it was for moments like this, the feeling of triumph just before the moment of success. Tartum thought of all the people of his town, of all of them running around like idiots trying to mate with each other, trying to make children and crops and obtain some simple life goal, as pitifully empty as their parents’ lives before them. He thought of how few of them would ever feel the exhilaration and the thrill he was feeling now, and he pitied them.
“The poor fools.”, he thought, “How could anyone live a full life, without the joys of magic?” Sighing at the plight of his fellow man, Tartum shut the thought from his mind and refocused on his work. He was done within an hour, and he positioned himself to the south of his staff, standing outside the circle just as he did the night before.
Taking one last calming breath, Tartum opened himself to the magic. It flowed into him in the same exciting way, it had always done. With a word Tartum set the pile of pinecones on fire. The blaze was a bright green hue, just as he knew it would be. Now, Tartum opened himself completely to the source. The magic went from a flow, to a surge; pain and ecstasy filled his senses, in equal measure, and the fight for keeping his focus was on. It was still incredibly hard for Tartum to remain intent on his task, when such raw emotions were being forced on him by the powerful magic, coursing through him. After taking as much of the magic as he could bear, Tartum focused his will, and the magic flowed out of him saturating all four circles in front of him. The words, written in blood, glowed brightly with a sickening red light. Tartum assumed this was supposed to happen and paid it little heed. He spoke the words to the spell, and the blood circles collapsed and caused the components inside them to turn into smoke and light, just like the first time. It was when Tartum made the gestures to move the infused light of the lightning bugs over to his staff,
Not wasting another second, Tartum gathered up every last bit of suphur and pinecone in the wagon’s storage area, then, he grabbed up his skin of chicken blood. There was a decent amount left inside. It would have to be enough. There was no waiting for the butcher to open his stall. Tartum prayed it was enough!
Gathering his staff, Tartum ran outside to the site behind the wagon, where his first enchantment had been successful. Thrusting his staff’s blunted point, deep into the ground, where the coin had been last night, he carefully drew the glyphs with the chicken blood, just had he’d done before. Next, he placed the pinecones and sulphur in there respective places and encircled them as well. Then, dropping everything else, Tartum ran out into the woods and began the task of gathering up the bugs. After about twenty minutes, Tartum had gathered around eighty of the bugs and assumed that would be enough. The jar he had to contain them was full to bursting.
Placing the bugs north of the staff and drawing the glyphs around them, Tartum inspected his work; everything looked exactly like it did the night prior. The components were ready, and as Tartum was finishing drawing the glyphs that connected the three circles to the one in the middle, a strange calm overtook him. He knew this would work, after all his planning, his years of study and failure. All of it was for moments like this, the feeling of triumph just before the moment of success. Tartum thought of all the people of his town, of all of them running around like idiots trying to mate with each other, trying to make children and crops and obtain some simple life goal, as pitifully empty as their parents’ lives before them. He thought of how few of them would ever feel the exhilaration and the thrill he was feeling now, and he pitied them.
“The poor fools.”, he thought, “How could anyone live a full life, without the joys of magic?” Sighing at the plight of his fellow man, Tartum shut the thought from his mind and refocused on his work. He was done within an hour, and he positioned himself to the south of his staff, standing outside the circle just as he did the night before.
Taking one last calming breath, Tartum opened himself to the magic. It flowed into him in the same exciting way, it had always done. With a word Tartum set the pile of pinecones on fire. The blaze was a bright green hue, just as he knew it would be. Now, Tartum opened himself completely to the source. The magic went from a flow, to a surge; pain and ecstasy filled his senses, in equal measure, and the fight for keeping his focus was on. It was still incredibly hard for Tartum to remain intent on his task, when such raw emotions were being forced on him by the powerful magic, coursing through him. After taking as much of the magic as he could bear, Tartum focused his will, and the magic flowed out of him saturating all four circles in front of him. The words, written in blood, glowed brightly with a sickening red light. Tartum assumed this was supposed to happen and paid it little heed. He spoke the words to the spell, and the blood circles collapsed and caused the components inside them to turn into smoke and light, just like the first time. It was when Tartum made the gestures to move the infused light of the lightning bugs over to his staff,
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