Arcane Essence - Part Three

The Control

Boch had guessed right. The first words of his uncle’s incantation were the trigger words that released not only the delayed spell that activated his ring, but also the locks on his carefully concealed spell chambers in his mind.

He had carefully thought out the sequence of spells to be released from the ring. First was a spell for fire protection. Next was a fire strike targeted at himself followed by lightning and essence arrows aimed straight ahead.

The living throne shrieked in dismay and pain as the fireball exploded in Boch’s lap. The death grip was immediately released as the throne tried desperately to quench the fires by slapping itself.

As Boch stood to cast another set of spells, his concentration was shattered by the horrid stench, an unanticipated side effect of the fireball. As he faltered, the control words jostled with each other in his mind, canceling out most of his prepared spells. He was able to cast an essence lock on the door to keep the guards out.

He never believed the conflagration he unleashed would actually harm his uncle, but it was never intended to; just create a distraction as he slipped the snake from his pocket. Boch quickly activated one of his rings that created a sphere of null magic around him. Any magic attempting to pass through the sphere either direction would be absorbed by the sphere and the energy would be used to sustain the sphere itself.

“What a pleasant surprise, my boy. It’s a shame it all came too late.”

“I’m not so sure, uncle. I still breathe and your throne looks a bit the worse for wear.”

“True, but your sphere won’t last forever and then you will be mine.”

“No one can foretell the future, uncle. Not even you.”

“What a pity you never tried the tests. With your sheer power, you would have passed with ease.”

“But then I’d have to answer to you, uncle.”

“Would that have been so bad, Boch? Oh!”

His uncle’s eyes suddenly flew wide open with surprise as the snake sank his fangs in his calf and the deadly venom started to course through his veins. With each beat of his uncle’s heart, more of his body turned to stone.

“Who taught you, Boch?” he asked with a fading gasp.

“Arch Mage Pritle was my mentor.”

“But he died millennia ago?!”

“Exactly.”

“How? Why?”

“You don’t have much time left, uncle, so I’ll be quick. As I am sure you remember from the school histories, Pritle was the foremost farseer of his time. He foresaw a time of deep trouble. The school would become corrupted like the outside world. He left various clues and hints throughout his writings pointing to his spell arsenal. Unfortunately, he didn’t see someone like me finding it.”

Before his uncle completely transformed, he cast his Specter Hand spell, pulled the arcane essence from his uncle, and locked it in the empty pendant he wore.

“Guards!” Boch shouted, unlocking the throne room doors with a thought. As the constructs streamed in, Boch cast a repair spell on the throne and sat down.

“Bring me my siblings.” Boch commanded with a wicked, knowing grin spreading across his face. Now was the time to create his own brood of sorcerlings, for what he planned would make his uncle’s reign look benevolent.

A dry cackle reverberated throughout the throne room.

Arcane Essence - Part Two

The Throne Room

The throne room appeared deserted as Boch made his way to the “Living Throne”. The throne was another construct of the Arch Mage and was rumored to consist of the body parts of the failed students. Boch shook his head to try to dismiss the thought.

The slight breeze on the back of his neck was the only warning he was no longer by himself in the room. A dry cackle reverberated throughout the throne room.

“Welcome, Nephew.” came whispering from the shadowed corner of the room.

“Hello, Uncle. To what do I owe the privilege of being summoned to the Throne Room?”

“I do believe it is past time for your Tempering.”

“But Uncle, the other teachers don’t think I’m ready.”

“Be that as it may be, I will not have one of my own ridiculed in this hall as an incompetent.”

“The next test is in six months. I can take it …”

“Enough with your excuses and promises, my boy. Your teachers have concluded you are a hopeless waste of time. Look closely and see how we may salvage something yet.”

The Arch Mage held out his hand and pointed to his robe. Boch shuddered when he realized the various brooches, rings and pendants contained the arcane essence of his kin who had obviously failed the tests.

“Please take a seat,” his uncle said, pointing to the throne.

“But uncle, that’s your throne!”

“I insist. It will be a bittersweet taste of what could have been. It will bring a certain vibrancy to your essence as it drains away.”

Boch reluctantly sat down on the throne. The throne’s arms grew skeletal hand and seized his wrists in a death grip. Again, the cackle reverberated through the room.

“Uncle, please, you don’t know what I can do.”

“No, my sweet, simple, Boch, I do know your abilities. You are the last, weakest child of my brood. Even your younger siblings have at least gotten to the testing stage. You will never have the ability to step into the room for the test. You have no supporters among the teachers or apprentices. It is time for you to meet your fate.”

With that, the Arch Mage tossed his scepter at Boch. The Scepter of Control floated just inches from Boch’s reach, both the arcane and physical. The blood ruby blazed with an unnatural fire from within as the Arch Mage started casting the spell to forcibly remove Boch’s arcane essence, or as some might call it, his soul.

Arcane Essence - Part One

The Summons

“Apprentice Boch, attend the Arch Mage in the Throne Room.”

The announcement echoed off the walls as it issued from the green, glowing mouth suddenly appearing on the dull, grey walls. Even though he had been living in the castle with all of its special traits and quirks for the last couple of decades, he was still startled when the arch mage used a portal mouth to summon him. At least he was not being forced to enter the portal to make his appearance. Stepping through the mouth was too reminiscent of the Giant Wyrm episode from his childhood, which he had absolutely no desire to repeat. If the Arch Mage had truly desired Boch’s presence, Boch would have felt a compulsion to enter the portal. The portal allowed the caster to send a verbal message to the recipient and leave an arcane tunnel open for either the recipient or any non-lethal responses. Besides, walking through the warren of passageways to the throne room would give him time to lock away the memories and abilities he had been working so diligently to acquire.

He was the last remaining “Untested” of the Arch Mage’s brood. Through careful maneuvering, and a little dumb luck, Boch had been passed over for the last couple of Tempering Tests. All the students were required to take the tests once they had reached a certain skill level. It was the manner of progression through the school. If you passed, you were elevated to the next level. If not, you were stripped of your magic and sent away. No one ever saw the failed students again.

Boch took his time putting away the scroll he had been studying. As he put the scroll away, he scooped up a couple of his more potent rings. Walking to the throne room, he cast a collection of spells into his holding ring. When he finished, he cast a final spell on himself that would only activate if a trigger word were said or a set of circumstances happened.

When he arrived at the throne room, the Arch Mage’s guard constructs parted to let him through. The constructs were magical creatures loyal only to the Arch Mage. As Boch passed through their ranks, he felt the glare from fifty sets of eyes digging into his back.