It had all started in the fall semester when Thedoran Leighton started to dream of Rosetta, the abbey’s nubile redheaded scullery maid, bending down before him, her pale bust pouring out like creamy froth from the top of the bare constraints of her crimson gown.
Even noticing a scullery maid was unbecoming of a young nobleman, of course. But Thed was still a young man, and who could be expected to control their dreams?
But the dreams intensified. And so did a sudden constipation of magickal flow in his body. Tier 2 spells became burdensome, and then impossible. Over the last three weeks, some sort of illness had seemed to have come over him. Nearly every night he had a mess-inducing dream of the scullery maid, and every day he woke to a living nightmare: fumbling over ever more basic spells. Even Firespark took several attempts now.
His mates about the dorm were starting to talk.
Compounding this was the three eyed crow. Thedoran had noticed it staring at him from atop the porous brow of a stone gargoyle atop Abinsdale Abbey’s courtyard roof as he walked to alchemy lessons one day. It was the unusual intensity of its gaze that froze Thed in place, locked him in an unflinching stare, until suddenly an eye in the middle of its brow (that he had not yet noticed) had blinked before the creature took flight.
It seemed like every time Thedoran went outside he saw the strange little creature somewhere in the distance, hidden amongst the other birds.
Is it some sort of fey-beast that is sending me those dreams? Am I bewitched?
His sole solace as his abilities deteriorated was that winter holiday was fast approaching. At least he could forget his troubles at the home manor, maybe escape the crow’s curse, if it was indeed a curse. Maybe his parents could even explain what was happening to him.
Thedoran had prayed for that, dreamed of it, and packed his bags several days early for the trip home, only to instead receive a letter on the day he expected his parents to arrive. They weren’t coming, his mother told him in terse script. She and father were taking a steamship to some sort of hotspring resort, and he would need to remain, alone, at the abbey.
Thedoran could have choked on that ugly lump of hate, like a great clay lump in his throat. He hated himself for being surprised. He hated himself even more for the juvenility of his own emotions.
They had never had any great interest in him, despite sending him to study at the most expensive and prestigious mage’s guild in the world. Ordinarily Thed would have shrugged it off, some winter solitude perhaps being just another cost of life for one of the aristocratic class; however, with his own collapsing competency and rising anxiety he woke up with each day, he felt so desperate that he nearly wrote a letter begging them to reconsider, or provide some fare for him to join them. He did not want to be alone.
But he hadn’t written the letter; his pride could not bear it. To be abandoned was a misfortune, but there was nothing more pathetic than a kicked dog crawling back to its master. No, Thed was an aristocrat of both soul and realm, and would not bow and scrape, no matter how desperately he wished to.
And so there he sat on the first day of winter holiday in the dusty abbey library, peering through a frost fogged window overlooking the rounded concourse where dark cloaked figures darted in and out of carriages. Pairs of proud mothers and fathers jumped out to embrace their beloved students and take them on some holiday.
The whole abbey will soon be empty.
Thedoran sniffed, the smell of warm dust flooding his nostrils from off a candle that warmed his face even as his feet were already numb with cold. Why couldn’t mother at least have let him know earlier? Why did no-one seem to even no adults seem to notice that something was wrong with him?
He shifted, trying to focus on the text in front of him. It was going to be a very long and quiet three weeks. Not to mention the poor quality of the food with the kitchen staff all being out. He’d be living off old cheese. It was a blessing and a curse that the Abbey was so far from industrial civilization. A benefit in the casting of magick, which was naturally in opposition to such modern contraptions and might misfire if performed near them (and cause the machines to break), but a great irritation when modern conveniences like cheap food were desired.
But at least I will have the peace and quiet to study whatever is afflicting me.
He flipped open the overly large leather bound copy of Principae Magicka on the table before him, chair creaking as he leaned over it. Diminished as he was, Thedoran was no fool and he had a theory of what troubled him. Every mage drew power from a dedicated leyline they bonded themselves to, leylines being energy flows of the spiritual realms that each contained blessings, curses, and limitations of their own. Thedoran turned to the introductory page titled “LEYLINES OF MAGICK”:
It being known that every mage may only cast spells using power taken from a LEYLINE, and each mage may only bond themself to so many LEYLINES of MAGICK due to the Law of Exclusion, which states that any LEYLINE not explicitly in alignment with another LEYLINE, will supersede and disconnect the mage from all prior LEYLINES.
In order to change their bonded LEYLINE, a mage must undergo a day-long Ritual of Connection in which they will be without magickal access. Discussed in this text are the essential FOUR EXCLUSIONARY LEYLINES which are most commonly taught (and most easily accessible for initiates), and which allow the conduction of all Twelve of the Colleges of Magic. But at the cost of their easy access and broad magickal college support, each of these FOUR EXCLUSIONARY LEYLINES refuse to be shared. Meaning a mage may only be connected to that one LEYLINE at any time.
THE FOUR EXCLUSIONARY LEYLINES
- Elementalis, allowing access to the following colleges: Air, Earth, Fire, Water
- Primordialis, allowing access to the following colleges: Nature, Blood, Necromancy
- Stellaris, allowing access to the following colleges: Meta, Astral
- Flux, allowing access to the following colleges: Temporal, Phantasm, Conjuration
All essential information, but a bit too beginner level. Thedoran flipped the pages, skimming summaries describing the fact that each of the Twelve Colleges of Magic were further subdivided into four tiers of mastery, and some description on the mastery of sustainment nodes, those internal levels of self definition which allowed a spell or summoned creature to be sustained indefinitely.
“What I need is something that explains why I can’t access Elementalis like I used to…” he said aloud to fill the silence, but paused at the heavy creak of a door opening across the library.
His pulse quickened as brisk footsteps approached his exact location. Finally a handsome figure emerged, close cropped gray hair starkly contrasted by skin tanned almost to brown. It was Master Willousbhy, the head of primitive culture research of the Breland Royal Thaumaturgical Society and Thedoran’s most dedicated instructor. At the start of the semester he had even promised to make Thed his sole senior apprentice once he had passed his trial on Elementalis.
“By the maker Thed, you look like you saw a ghost.”
“Sorry master. I thought everyone had left.”
A soft smile, almost sad. “I suppose they just about have… and no need to apologize.” Master Willousbhy cast his eyes about the vast empty library. “Actually, I came here looking for you.”
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“Of course, how can I be of assistance, master? If it’s about the cataloging of your notes on the Fire Island cannibals, I already—”
“It’s nothing of the sort. It’s about you, actually. There are some things I’ve been meaning to tell you...” Willousbhy swallowed and seemed unable to go on. It was bizarre to see a man who typically always had a brusque sort of humor about himself to look so dreadfully embarrassed.
“What is it, master?”
Willousbhy’s tan face turned a darker shade, Thed could have sworn he saw a sweat breaking out.
“Just things I didn’t think I had to tell you yet, but now it seems I ought to. What I mean is, you’re becoming a man now, and that entails a lot. And I know your father is not… available.”
“He’s a busy man, I’m told.”
Willousbhy snorted. “He was a poor choice, is what he was,” catching himself, his brow furrowed. “Thed, forgive me. I have no right to speak ill of him in front of you like that.”
“No, it’s fine. Really.”
“I’m no good at this kind of thing… a consequence of being a lifelong bachelor. But I’ve noticed that you’ve been… not feeling quite like yourself. Well, there’s someone I want you to meet. Someone I’ve brought in to help you.”
Master Willousbhy led Thed down the northern spire and to his office. It was a corner chamber made small by a clutter of disheveled bookshelves, tribal artifacts, and a desk overflowing with unanswered letters. Thedoran ducked under a canoe hanging from the ceiling, noting a fresh blood red summoning circle now marking the room’s floor in front of the desk, a single stool at the center. He did not recognize any of the enclosed sigils.
Thed swallowed. Master Willousbhy had always been inordinately kind to him, doting even. He had been there to greet him on his first day at the abbey, and had always made an effort to check in on him over the years, and had never shown any sign of some sort of violent tendency, and certainly not perversion towards boys.
But this is weird…
“So… who am I meeting?”
Willousbhy brushed past, rolling up the long sleeves of his robes. He gestured towards the stool. “Well I’ll introduce you in a moment. I need to speak to you first, now that I know no enemy is listening in.”
“Who would be listening in?”
The three eyed crow…
Willousbhy’s chair squealed as he pulled it up to the desk. “Never mind that. What’s important is that I give you… that is to say I have to give you the…” he trailed off, his tan face turning tomato red despite the winter chill in the otherwise dim room lit only by the glow of sunset from the window.
“What, master?”
“The talk! THE talk. You’re of a certain age now, and surely you’ve noticed, that is to say, you’ve probably intuited that nature, in its way, has a certain… don’tcha know?”
“Master, what in the world are you talking about?”
Sweat glinted off Willousbhy’s tomato-like face, but he said nothing.
“Are you talking about sex?”
“No! Well partly. Forgive me, Thed, I just really am not the right man for this job! I’m not a parent and I hate personal chatter, but bear with me. You know that I am committed to your best interest.”
Thed nodded.
“Well it’s because you are special, Thed. But like all boys you are growing into a man, and that comes with certain joys, and responsibilities. I wonder if you have noticed, in recent weeks, that your magickal abilities, which have always been advanced for your age, have suddenly waned to an unusual degree?”
It was Thed’s turn to blush. The thought that his master had noticed his inconstancy shamed him. “I have, but I swear I will be redoubling my study and drills over this break, I —”
Willousbhy, still looking rather like he’d swallowed a toad, waved a hand dismissively. “You need do nothing of the sort, although your dedication will as always be rewarded. No, Thed, what you are experiencing is your peculiar gift due to the nature of your birth. You see, you’re not entirely human.”
Thed felt his throat constrict.
Willousbhy continued, “I was there during your conception. Your mother splayed out like a… well anyway, your father — your real father — came out of the wood, a great tall creature with his beautiful dappled skin like a deer’s hide, coming to fertilize her as the other druids and I —”
Thedoran’s voice cracked and he didn’t care: “What unholy hell are you describing? My own mother having sex with demons? I’m an abomination? And you’re attending strange sex parties, Master Willousbhy?”
Willousbhy pulled back. “I’m sorry! It’s not like that at all. It was a sacred thing, a beautiful thing. And your father is not a demon, but a Tautha, one of the ancient forest folk of legend, a few still persist on our plane, you know. No Thed, you are special and very much not the product of some kind of sexual perversion. You were wanted, prayed for, and magically summoned into being in some ways… I’m sorry I have to tell you all of this now, it was supposed to be when you were older.”
“But my father… who is my father?” Thed swallowed. “The man I call father, that is.”
“Some cad your mother took a shining to later in life. She’s under our protection, and by extension so is he, for her service towards the cause.”
Thedoran’s head was spinning so much that he dared not even shake it. “And what cause is that?”
Willousbhy took a calming breath. “That… is for another day. Suffice to say that I, and a loose affiliation of other elder wizards, believe that world peace can be achieved by a very careful breeding regimen. You are an end-product of that project. A triumph, really.”
Thed stared down at his hands. The subtle way his skin darkened in splotches when he got sun that he’d always thought was just some defect made sense now. Or perhaps it still was a defect. The only thing he knew of the Tautha came from nursery songs.
Mother couldn’t even have given me that knowledge. And I’m not really even a noble…
Willousbhy shook his head. “I’m so sorry to throw all of this at you at once. But it’s important so that you can understand what I tell you next: that it is necessary for you, nay for the world, that you retain your vitae…”
“Vitae?”
Willousbhy turned radish colored again. “When I was a boy they used to say if you did it, then your hands would polymorph into hairy animal paws. Rubbish, of course. But it’s still a nasty habit, but for you I’m afraid it has much more dire consequences than that. The Tautha, you see, do not have sex drives like us humans, and have a far deeper and more organic connection to the leyline flows of magicka. In fact, within their culture I have been told that… you know that thing… is called the “little death” because it somehow breaks your connection to the continuity of the world. For that reason, sex is apparently reserved only for their most elite males, and even then, only as they approach actual death.”
They both sat in uncomfortable silence. The bags under Thedoran’s eyes felt heavy as he attempted to process everything he’d just heard. “So you’re saying that I’m half Tautha.”
“Yes.”
“And that Tautha are unable to… release vitae without diminishing their magickal prowess.”
“Correct.”
“And so my recent issues with magickal evocation all stem from my inability to retain vitae.”
Willousbhy’s jumped to his feet. “Yes! Always my fastest student, even with all of this. And as I say, my colleagues and I have great expectations for you, and the role you will play in the world. There are very very powerful people that are looking to you, Thed. If I said their names you wouldn’t believe me! But before those plans can play out, we need you to get just a little bit older and to gain mastery over both yourself and your abilities as a wizard. Specifically, you must master some spell colleges before… the next phase of the plan can begin.”
Thedoran felt numb, humiliated as if his master had seen him in his most intimate moments. Indirectly he sort of had by discussing his vitae retention. And yet, Thed also felt resolute as the confusion of what had been going on with him over the past few months was cleared up, burned away like fog to sunlight.
Is the three eyed crow related to this somehow as well?
The apprentice’s jaw clenched. “I think I can do it. I mean, I always knew I was meant to be a leader of men. I’ll do whatever it takes. I’m… sorry you even had to mention this to me, that I lacked the control…”
“Everyone lacks control. Especially when we’re young, and I know you will try your hardest,” said Willousbhy with a reassuring smile. “But I’ve also summoned a demon to protect you from yourself.” The old wizard’s eyes turned to the ceiling directly above where Thed sat. “Okay, he’s ready for you.”