Isa walked up the stairs to the library. It wasn’t until she was near the top that she realized she was unaccompanied. The Fazarians had grown used to her already? Maybe they assumed Isa was one of them now - a student of the arcane traditions. Which made her wonder, where was Joth studying? He’d said that you didn’t have to be attached to a god or a temple to become a wizard, but you had to study and practice, that much was obvious.
Isa nodded at the library monitor - she had no idea if that’s what they were called, but it certainly felt like 5th grade study time, so monitor, he was. The desk she picked was toward the back, out of the way. She wanted solitude and few distractions.
She placed Tinero’s spellbook squarely in front of her and folded her hands in her lap. She was reluctant to open it, and who can blame her? It wasn’t like she’d known the guy, but Isa had an affinity for Gerry Tinero. She felt like she could call him Gerry. He’d been lost to his home like her. He felt like a friend, and she didn’t want to see her friend’s madness.
What had Ealda called the spellbook? A cautionary tale? Quite an introduction to the book in front of her, so with a deep breath, Isa opened to the first page. What greeted her was a neatly lettered sheet with the words Plane Shift at the top of the page and dense writing below.
Isa read carefully, and the words all made, well, not sense exactly, but they were logical and ordered. They laid out the purpose and outcome of the spell. It was dry, almost academic in its wording, if a little odd. One part said, “Take the appropriately attuned planar fork and hold it aloft.” It was hard to say appropriately attuned planar fork, much less figure out what in the world it actually was.
Farther down the page Isa read, “You target a specific destination…..” Of course you had to know where you were going, and you had to have the fork! Isa shook her head at the absurd image of someone holding up a dessert fork and speaking an incantation.
Toward the bottom of the page Isa saw that there was a part about using the spell to banish other people. So not only could you go to another plane, you could send someone else, too. Against their will, you send them to another plane, and they have to figure out their own way back. A wizard touches you and if you can’t shrug it off, you go where she tells you to go. And you stay there until you figure out a way home. Great. Is that what happened to me?
The text did say this: “If a creature has a high enough charisma, the spell fails.” What’s a high enough charisma? So maybe Isa’s wasn’t high enough? How do you know? And what does that even mean? That you have a strong enough sense of self? That would be tied up in charisma, right? Self confidence is sexy, so surviving the spell would be like saying, “I’m not banished, you are.” And the wizard believes you. Or you believe you. Either way, the spell fails, and your ass stays put.
Isa sighed. Yeah, maybe thinking about all this would drive you crazy. It’s not like a failed spell is going to kill you. It’s a waste of resources, sure, and time, but not fatal. And if you’re a smart wizard, you know not to cast plane shift on charming people, because odds are, they will laugh in your face. Or punch your face. Or maybe both.
God, maybe Ealda was right - Isa felt a little lightheaded, and she was only on the first page of the spellbook. She turned the page and was met with a wall of scribbles. As neat as the previous page had been, this page was the polar opposite. She leaned forward to try to read the first lines.
In blocky lettering Gerry had written, “I’ll see you again on the familiar street. No, that’s not right. I’ll be seeing you again on that familiar street.” For about a quarter of the page he’d written out variants of those same words. Was he trying to write a song? A poem? Was this what wizards had to go through to master a spell?
It kind of made sense - Isa knew enough now to know that most magic spells required words and gestures to make them happen, and some required materials - like fucking diamonds! - as well. Where do wizards get materials anyway? Does Gimble sell little kits with all the common materials you’d need? Is it like a starter herbs and spices kit that you can buy at Kitchen Kaboodle?
Isa flipped to the next page and saw half a dozen drawings of a slender U-shape on a stick. A tuning fork! The fork for the spell was a musical device not an eating utensil. That made so much more sense.
Gerry had covered most of the page with drawings of tuning forks. He’d labeled each one, and as Isa studied the drawings she could see slight variations in the forks. Some were fatter, taller, wider. Gerry - or someone else - had circled one that was labeled “Becali Va.”
It was as if Isa was watching Gerry piece the spell together, making it his own. Would she see pages of hand gestures next? The little she’d seen of magic so far - and most had been in combat - people kept their gestures simple. Of course maybe that was just Joth. Though Mery’s magic had also been simple, quick gestures, and if anyone was going to be grandiose, it would be a bard.
She turned the page and found more writing.
The words aren’t right. And I know they’ve got to be right. Jane loves Noel Coward, and I should know the song. I should know the song, dammit.
Vern tells me not to obsess over these training spells - focus on the prize he says. Only he doesn’t say that, oh no. He’s more hoity-toity than that. And I like a good turn of phrase, I do. Jane likes to say I never met an adverb I didn’t like. But those $3 words! If I wrote Talon the way Vern talks, I’d never sell a story.
There I go again. Off the rails. Half off anyway. I feel like something is eating at me, but I don’t understand. I’ll get these headaches, these blinding, 3-alarm headaches, and it’s all I can do to keep from weeping like a God-damned baby. But then a couple of days at Vern’s place, and the world is right again.
Vern told me about a little house maybe an hour outside of town. It’s abandoned he said, and so no one will disturb me practicing. His place is way out there, so I appreciate the idea of having a closer place I can call my own. And he seems to think that the solitude might help prevent the headaches. I don’t get it, but he’s an odd bird. And what do I know anyway?
This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.
But I’ve been here 2 years already, and I don’t think I can survive one more. So I gotta find a way to break through to those class 9 spells. I just gotta. I can’t even imagine what Jane is thinking. I gotta get back to her.
Isa put her hand on her chin. What if Celeste were home waiting on Isa? Or worse, if they had kids and Celeste was trying to explain why Mommy wasn’t there? Isa would go without sleep or food to get back to them, so she felt like she understood at least a little of Gerry’s anguish. Was that what drove him mad?
She noticed that the light had shifted outside. Somehow it was past noon. She could fritter away whole days if she wasn’t careful. “Much as I like ya, Gerry,” Isa whispered, “I gotta cut to the chase.”
What a funny phrase - cut to the chase. Obviously a movie saying, which meant that it would mean absolutely nothing to most of the people here. What do they say instead, she wondered. And there she went again - sliding down these tangents. Isa really was getting a little loopy from all the close reading. She grabbed a few inches of pages and flipped them over. “Let’s wrap things up.”
What she saw took her breath away. The whole page was filed with 2 words repeated over and over. Conjuration conjugation. Sometimes the letters were jammed up so close you could barely read, and other places, he’d put so much space between each letter that it almost seemed like a nonsensical grouping of letters.
Near the bottom of that page, in tiny letters, Gerry had written, Yes.
Holding her breath, she turned the page.
I can think, he’d written. I can finally think clearly. And no one can hear me.
The rest of the page was blank.
The hair on the back of Isa’s neck rose as she reached out to turn to the next page.
At the top sat the word GATE. Below that in, Isa noted, neat script was an explanation of the spell. Some of it Isa already understood from Gerry’s earlier writings. The spellcaster creates a doorway linking one place to another. The doorway can be big or small, and it will last for only a single minute. Not a lot of time for goodbyes, but then Gerry had been ready to go for years.
Of course, Ealda thought that he died here at the Temple, so maybe he hadn’t mastered the spell. Or maybe he’d never scraped together the cash to get a diamond to cast the spell. But maybe he had cast it, maybe Gerry and Jane were still alive somewhere back home, sitting side by side holding hands. Isa thought that once Gerry had Jane again, he’d likely never let her go.
So what had happened? Did this story have a happy ending? The answer lay in the pages beyond. Isa knew now that the hard work of the spell happened in the pages after the nice, neat presentation. Like a wrecked kitchen sitting unseen while guests eat a gourmet meal.
She turned to the next page in the spellbook.
They guard it well. I have to believe that. Otherwise there’s another year gone, and the gold, all my gold. The onyx inks and the diamond nib and the blessed white parchment, all gone if he finds it. Truly gone if he finds it. He’ll take it away and use it. That’s what he’s wanted all this time. Vern, the snake. Vern, the schemer. He’ll take the scroll and step through to America. And what will he do there? What could he do there? No, what couldn’t he do there?
He thinks I haven’t quite mastered gate yet, and lord knows I am grown old in service to a dream of going home. But it’s more than a dream now! And I don’t care who reads these words now. Do you hear, Vernal Fedru? Do you hear me thinking these words as loud as I can? I am not afraid of you, and I am going home to Jane. I am going home.
But now I need to rest. I can’t let impatience ruin everything. One stumble, one mispronunciation and the scroll is wasted. Tomorrow is soon enough. Tomorrow if I’m strong enough. Until then it’s safe.
That was the last page of the spellbook. Isa checked again that Gerry hadn’t added anything after that entry, but the rest of the pages were blank.
Spoiler: Isa's Character Sheet
Name: Isa Chamberlin
Race: Human
Height & Weight: 5ft 6inches / 120 lbs
Class: Fighter Level: 4
Alignment: Chaotic Good
Background: Stranger in a Strange Land
Hit Points: 26 AC: 15
Current Hit Points: 26
Combat: +5 to Hit
Weapons: Scimitar +1 (left hand) 1d6 +4 (slashing) / Quarterstaff (right hand) 1d6 +2 (bludgeoning)
STR
11
0
DEX
16
+3
CON
11
0
INT
13
+1
WIS
13
+1
CHA
12
+1
Saving Throws: Str and Con +2
5
Acrobatics* (Dex)
1
Medicine (Wis)
1
Animal Handling (Wis)
1
Nature (Int)
1
Arcana (Int)
3
Perception* (Wis)
0
Athletics (Str)
1
Performance (Cha)
1
Deception (Cha)
1
Persuasion (Cha)
3
History* (Int)
1
Religion (Int)
3
Insight* (Wis)
3
Sleight of Hand (Dex)
1
Intimidation (Cha)
3
Stealth (Dex)
1
Investigation (Int)
1
Survival (Wis)
Special Attack: Two weapon fighting. When you engage in two-weapon fighting, you can add your ability modifier to the damage of the second attack.
Class Features:
Second Wind - On your turn, you can use a Bonus Action to regain hit points equal to 5 + your fighter level. Short or Long Rest before you can use it again.
Action Surge - On your turn, you can take one additional action on top of your regular action and a possible Bonus Action. You must finish a short or Long Rest before using it again.
Martial Archetype: Surgical Fighter
3rd level - Clinical Eye: Spend 1 combat turn studying your enemy and learn one of the following: if the enemy is equal to or stronger than you in strength, dexterity, or constitution. Can spend up to 3 turns to discern all 3. Can be used outside of combat as a free action - spend 1 minute to learn all three.