Sebas stared at the strange vambraces on his master’s arms. They were surprisingly functional and quite fitting to how people perceived him. He slightly winced as he saw the fangs piercing into his master’s hands. Any other person would have taken them off, but a little bit of self-mutilation was expected of someone called “the Scourge”.

“They’re quite exquisite,” he remarked. His master was so proud of them — any other reaction would have been frowned upon.

“And cool too!” Jeremy beamed. “There are gaps, but they shouldn’t be a problem. I don’t usually get stabbed by daggers or swords in the arms — it’s those gaping maws of teeth and huge claws that always get me.”

Sebas had to nod in agreement. His master had little to fear from direct confrontation with men. It was the subterfuge and politics that worried him.

“I assume you’ll be leaving?”

He could see a glint in his master’s eyes — a need to create and innovate. Hopefully, his trip won’t take as long as it did when he made the dagger. Then again, he seemed to have streamlined his enchantment process. It only took him two days to create the Painful Staff of Pain — though he did have a bit of help in crafting the metal bands that bound it.

Sebas stared at the skeletal vambraces. There was a chance his master would enchant every single bone — and that would take weeks of effort.

“Yes,” Jeremy answered. “I will be taking Shelby and a minion with me — one of those from the barn.”

“You mean apprentice?”

“Minion, apprentice, follower — they’re all the same thing,” Jeremy scoffed. “The point there was I was taking one. She begged the Scourge for training and I am not one to deny an eager minion.”

Sebas frowned. The girl would be scarred for life. “Try not to get her killed. She’s not an adventurer like Siege and his party.”

He feared that one of these days

“Oh, I know she’s not an adventurer.” Jeremy frowned. “She’s one of mine. She bears the standard of the Scourge wherever she goes. I need to hold her to a higher standard.”

“But—“

“She won’t die,” his master assured him. “She’ll have to overcome inhumanly odds — but death won’t be an option. Oh, and Shelby would be there.”

The presence of the snail was more reassuring than his master’s words. At least the snail had some sort of concept regarding death — though she didn’t think much of injuries. She would save her wards from dying, but she wouldn’t raise a flail at their possible dismemberment. The apprentice would be lucky to return with all her limbs attached.

“When do you plan to leave?” Sebas asked. “He had an inkling feeling that something big was about to happen. Whether it was the chasm or the strange door in the mines — he would prefer the Scourge to be there when things heated up.

“Tomorrow,” Jeremy answered. “I didn’t plan on going far to train the apprentice — but Shelby’s gift changed it.”

“How did she come by those snakes?” Sebas wondered. Even with their metal coating, he could feel they weren’t of this world. They seemed more divine than infernal. And something about them screamed infinite and absolute.

“Shelby said they came from beneath the ground,” his master shrugged. “They started appearing after I brought back the turtle. They could be elemental creatures attracted to the thing — or they could be agents of divine retribution coming for me for stealing a god’s corpse from its ethereal grave. Scary, right?”

His master’s smirk couldn’t hide his true feelings. There was a kernel of truth in his statement — though divine retribution in the form of snakes seemed odd or quaint. The Scourge had already made a lot of enemies — most of them otherworldly — angering some godly entity was not beyond expectations.

“How long will all of you be gone?”

“The trip shouldn’t last more than two or three days,” Jeremy answered, his eyes still focused on the snake bone vambraces. “Ultimately, they’re for protection — a few of those silvery demons should be enough.”

Sebas nodded. The featureless silvery demons of hell 928-A were quite suitable for protective enchantments. Their silvery skin was mostly for show. It was their inherent shields that made them formidable. The human-like demons emanated a thin layer of force around their bodies — a second skin that seemed to glow.

“How many are you planning to use?”

Not that the demons were some kind of endangered species — but his master tended to overdo things when he was eager.

“Four? Maybe six?” Jeremy shrugged. “I’m still thinking of a few other demons for the fangs — something involving blood.”

“I would suggest focusing on protective magic,” Sebas urged. “Blood magic would add little to your already vast amounts of mana.”

“There’s that,” his master conceded. “But what do I do with the fangs? They seem quite impressive — piercing into the flesh and all.” He held up his hands, displaying the fangs protruding from his palms. “Neat, right?”

He wanted to suggest sacrificial magic or something involving pain — but his master already had that covered with his staff. “Perhaps transformative magic? Or a summon?”

Jeremy shook his head. “Father would frown upon those two. They don’t fit the theme.”

“Snakes have long been associated with death,” Sebas noted. “Though I understand how your father would feel about adding another trapping since the entirety of the Scourge seems cohesive and easy enough to understand.”

“True,” Jeremy frowned. “I might get called snake-man or something worse.”

Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

Perhaps augmentation? Something to empower your staff.”

“Or expand on its existing abilities!” Jeremy beamed. “That way I’d be enhancing the staff and not changing my image.”

“Indeed, Master.”

“Good talk. I have to write all these things down and make preparations for tomorrow’s trip.”

Sebas watched his master leave. His enthusiasm sometimes shifted into manic obsessions — as it did with the dagger. The trip probably wouldn’t take too long since he had Shelby and an apprentice with him. While his master could forgo food and live of infernal mana entirely, he doubted the other two were the same.

“What was that about?” Min asked, appearing from the backroom where she was helping stock their supplies.

“Master Jeremy is taking a trip,” he answered, “and he’s taking one of your charges with him.”

“Probably Jania. She was restless for most of the week — even urging me to put a word out for her to the Scourge or you.”

“I just hope she knows what she got herself into.”

***

It was a strange company to have — a dwarf, a giant snail, and a little boy, sitting with a half-elf. He was there to visit their wayward party member after a quest drove him nearby. That and the free repairs to his equipment that the dwarf would likely provide.

Instead of the strange forge, he found Siege quietly sitting on an open field — watching a game with a boy and a giant snail.

“So they just kick the ball until they hit the wall at the other end?” Dallarath asked as he watched the farmhands run around the field. It was a silly game — but it piqued his interest.

“I think the boys are restricted from using magic” Siege explained. “Unless it’s to avoid Staffany or the obstacles created by the small snails.”

“What about that guy?” he asked. There was another figure running around the field. He didn’t seem to engage with the others or chase the ball.

“That’s Boot, a strange fella.” the dwarf snorted. “All he does is pry off Staffany from the downed kids. He’s not allowed to play due to special circumstances.”

Dallarath got up from his seat. “I think I want to play for a few minutes.”

He was itching to stretch his legs. The ride from Forge was short, but he also rode from the capital before that. The three sisters stayed behind. They could easily find front-liners for any quest since they already had a spellcaster and a healer.

“That wouldn’t be fair,” Siege protested. “Some of the kids might be as tall — even taller — than you, but they’re just farm boys. They don’t have your experience in combat.”

“But we’re not fighting — we’re just chasing after a ball,” Dal smiled.

A series of short clicks and whistles made him turn to the gargantuan snail. It looked thoughtful — if something like that could be said of a snail. It turned to the small boy to the side and spoke its unintelligible language.

The boy stood up and walked towards him. “Shelby said you can go. Just tell the others Boot plays on the opposing team and don’t forget to pass the ball or—“

“Let Dal find out for himself, laddie,” Siege interrupted with a snicker.

Dallarath took to the field and relayed the snail’s directive. He found it odd that the farmhands would easily heed the words of the snail or the boy beside it. They formed into two teams as a boy named Dylan explained the rules and the complexities involving the red golem and the snails.

He complained that he couldn’t distinguish who was on his team since it was his first time playing. One of the taller boys on the other team scooped a handful of dirt and turned it to mud with magic that he couldn’t feel. The boy painted a diagonal line of mud on his teammate’s tunic, doing the same for his back.

“Will that do?”

Dallarath nodded, happy that the boys obliged him.

The battle between the clean and the muddied was about to start — though Dallarath feared they would all be muddy by the end of the game. Or perhaps not, since the field was dry.

The game started before he knew it. Dylan and some other kid fought for control of the ball, with Dylan losing out. They were on the defensive — but that would change soon enough.

Dallarath ran through the field expecting to leave the boys behind. Surprisingly, they kept up — some of them even overtaking him. He clenched his fists and diverted traces of mana into his legs, empowering them and fortifying his bones.

A misjudged pass sent the ball flying close to him. He sprang into the air, easily intercepting the ball with an extended leg. It was their turn to attack.

He saw Dylan to his side, gesturing for him to pass the ball. It was surprisingly heavy — quite solid too. If he hadn’t reinforced his leg, he might have gotten injured. He was about to kick the strange ball towards the boy when a silent shadow descended upon him.

It was the strange man they called Boot. He was fast, lithe, and silent. He trailed him like a shadow, blocking his path and cutting his passing lines. He could hear his teammates urging him to pass the ball — their voices carrying a strange note of concern that he thought was unneeded.

He spied the red golem from the corner of his eye. Was that what they were afraid of? Dallarath was familiar with Staffany’s touch — too familiar for his liking.

His persistent shadow would serve him well. He deftly maneuvered to keep the silent man between him and the golem — waiting for the two to make contact.

The golem reached out to boot — but instead of avoiding the thing’s painful touch, Boot grabbed its hand and pulled the golem.

No — this isn’t happening!

Dallarath protested to the heavens as that moment of distraction allowed Boot to send the red golem flying towards him. Once again he felt the touch of the red horror as it locked him in an embrace of torment.

***

“Magus Cartwright seeks an audience with Primus Uthven.”

He knelt like a supplicant in front of one of the greatest mages in the empire. He avoided the Guildhall Arcana in Bountiful, fearing the influence of Mason would tarnish his report. The neighboring country of Avlin was the next best option — and Primus Uthven was once his mentor.

“Why did you go as far as Avlin to make your report?” Uthven asked. “Your post is in Bountiful, we have a Guildhall in Adessa. Why not make your report there?”

“It’s about the Scourge, a strange wizard who has ties with both Duke Cedric and Mason,” Cartwright explained. “His connections in Adessa are unknown to me — so I deemed it prudent to contact you.”

“Pah!” Uthven scoffed. “You were wrong to bypass Gestalt. The loyalty of every Primus belongs to the Guildhall — not to some king or authority.”

Cartwright bowed even lower, accepting the reprimand.

“Stand. What is so urgent and secret that you had to appear in my chambers instead of sending a message?

“It’s the Scourge,” he started. “He’s built a mana gate in his domain. I saw it myself. There was no mountain filled with molten rock concealing it from sight — just a chasm of fire that swept the mana from the air.”

“It cut you off from the source?’Uthven raised an eyebrow. “A mana gate would have sent pulses of power felt around the entire continent. We would have known if one was built.”

The aged wizard stood from his seat and started pacing. “Still, it merits investigation if your story of being cut off from mana is to be believed.”

“I speak the truth, Primus,” Cartwright attested.

“We will see,” the wizard stroked his white braided beard. “If it is nothing, then there would be consequences for bringing frivolous charges to the Guildhall. If you are correct, then the full might of the guild will come crashing down on this Scourge like a hammer sent by the deities themselves.”