For decades, I tried to figure out how the Guild’s spells result in the exact same result, regardless of training and power level. Now I know why. The ritual of initiation is more than a ceremony—it is a branding. One so atrocious that I wasn’t sure whether to include it in this book. I believe some secrets are better left buried, unknown by the public. This, however, is not one of them.

Excerpt from Of righteous Evil by Elusco, Bane of the Sadmora. Published in 540 a.f, banned throughout Ceraviehl in the same year. No known copies exist.

Wedged in between walls of coppery, rusted metal and arkose sandstone, Silas and his friends slowly made their way towards the other end of the city. In comparison to the maze below, the houses here were quite diverse in their appearance, varying between smaller, dome-like buildings up to geometrical, triangle-shaped roofs with jagged pieces of strange metal.

Walking in a constant zig zag, neither of them spoke a word in fear of alarming any monsters to their presence, their steps muffled by the dust under their feet. Multiple times, they had needed to backtrack to avoid an encounter. Lizards were prone to randomly appear out of windows and doors, sometimes even fighting each other. Long-necked vultures sat motionless on the roofs, their eyes tracking any movement below.

Before them, the path stopped before a straight wall, splitting up into two different directions. They stopped just before the corner. Silas peered around it, relieved to find the alley empty. Not a single breeze dared to disturb the hushed calm of the underground city. Every once in a while, a fight would break out somewhere, setting their teeth on edge and force them to choose another path.

Continuing their way, they stopped abruptly as a massive head emerged from the other side. Two trunk-like legs followed, wide paws barely making any sound as the creature fully turned the corner. Silas’ blood left his face. Back when he had still been an apprentice under Tom’s tutelage, the old man had warned him to never try and fight such a creature. There was a reason why even experienced Artists didn’t try to take one out by themselves. Chimeras were simply too unpredictable.

A massive lion carried half a lizard’s body on its back, each head moving independently as they stared down at the Silas. A black scorpion’s tail grew out of its hindquarters, a curved stinger at its end. Taking very deliberate steps, the creature approached them. Intelligence shone in its red eyes.

“Don’t provoke it. Walk back slowly, and as soon as we’re around the corner, we run,” Silas said with forced calm, keeping his eyes on the Chimera.

The Chimera fledged teeth as big as Silas’ forearm, the fur on the lion’s head bristling. One foot stomped down, kicking up a small cloud of sand.

“I really don’t want to fight this thing,” Nurana said while edging her way backwards.

“This be Chimera. You no fight Chimera. Walk around corner, choose narrow passage, hide in house and hope it no find us.”

Glad Zaya didn’t intend to actually fight the beast, Silas risked a peek over his shoulder. They had almost gotten back to the corner. The Chimera crouched low. Silas’s hands clenched around the spear as he edged his way around the corner and started running, Zaya and Nurana ahead of him.

A deep roar shook the air. Silas’ jaw clenched at the sound. A deep-rooted, primal fear coursed through his body, making the hairs on his neck stand up and his eyes go wide with freight. Thundering steps came from behind him as the Chimera started to pursue them, the impact of its steps causing his heart to shake in his ribcage.

Nurana, leading the way, turned into a rather narrow alley to their left. The lizard on the Chimera’s back opened its mouth, energy beginning to condense inside of it.

“Faster!” he screamed. They were too slow. It would only take a moment for the Chimera to catch up to them. The three of them might have an ever-so-slim chance to defeat it, but the noise would attract a host of other predators. They needed to shake the Chimera off and find a place to hide.

Desperation guiding his actions, Silas nocked an arrow midrun and force-fed it with as much energy as he could. He turned around and aimed at the lizard’s head. Giving a silent prayer to Tom for teaching him how to shoot while running, he released. The drawback still made him lose his balance. His back hit the wall and took the breath out of his lungs.

The Chimera roared in pain as the arrow pierced one of the lizard’s eyes, the half-formed beam of liquid fire hitting the wall above him and melting the stone as the ancient building began to crumble. Silas ignored the scorching pain on his skin and scrambled to get up again. A strong hand caught him under his shoulder.

“Good shoot.” Zaya’s voice was barely audible as she dragged him away from the stunned Chimera.

His lungs burned as he ran alongside her to follow Nurana, who had stopped around a corner ahead of them. Thundering steps announced the Chimera resuming its pursuit, the beast quickly closing in on them. Even though the shot had bought them some time, it wouldn’t be enough.

“There is a cellar just ahead of us!” Nurana shouted and pointed at a tall structure, a spindling staircase disappearing below. Silas glanced over his shoulder. The beast would be upon them in a few heartbeats. Charging a Powershot would take too long. A normal arrow wouldn’t even hurt the beast. His mind raced as he tried to come up with a solution.

“Have idea,” Zaya suddenly said. ”But will hurt. Jump when I say.”

“What idea—” Silas began, his eyes widening as he saw a slab of stone coming at them from behind.

“Now!” As one, Silas and Zaya jumped, the slab hitting their backs and catapulting them forward. Nurana’s eyes widened as she saw them shooting through the air, already halfway down the stairs. The Chimera let out a final scream of rage as Zaya and Silas tumbled down the staircase, taking Nurana with them and stopping somewhere at the bottom. The stairwell had to be at least three meters deep. There was no way the Chimera would be able to follow them that far down.

“Whose idea was that,” Nurana groaned, rubbing her shin with one hand.

“Have better one?” Zaya shot a questioning glance at Nurana before studying the heavy-set metal door in front of them. Three horizontal bars locked the door to the wall, a different, jagged hole beside each one.

“That’s a sturdy door for such a small house,” Silas commented as he pulled the bars open, the rusted mechanisms that locked the bars breaking immediately.

A drawn-out metallic creak went up the stairwell as the door slowly swung open, revealing a total mess of a room. The right side was completely occupied by a long workbench, all kinds of different metal devices and tools scattered on top of it. In the far-left corner stood something resembling a furnace, all kinds of pipes and tubes sticking out of it and disappearing somewhere within the low ceiling.

Three different metal contraptions, each one about half as tall as Zaya, stood to the left. Roughly shaped like a cone, each one sported a solid base with a long tube attached to it.

Silas closed the door again. “We should probably rest in here for a bit and wait for the commotion to settle down. I don’t want to run into whatever kind of beasts followed the noise.”

This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

Zaya nodded and kneeled down near one of the metal objects, peering into the tube with one eye. Flakes of rust settled down as she moved the tube from left to right, the disk on which the tube sat rotating with the movement. “What this for?”

“It’s a weapon, probably used to shoot stuff out of that pipe you just looked into,” Nurana answered.

Zaya pushed the pipe away from her face to point it at Nurana. “You tell me now?”

“No need to be worried. I highly doubt it’s still operative. I’m even surprised it’s still standing, after all this time,” Nurana replied with a wave of her hand and slouched against the wall.

“Good. I pick apart.” With surprisingly delicate movements, she began to spread the metallic sheets with thin stone needles. The thing was full of pulls, levers and springs, a heavy cuboid sitting in its center. Gently pulling it out, Zaya opened its lid and frowned. A bunch of identical, arrow-shaped projectiles cluttered to the ground as she held it upside down. “Huh.”

Silas was just about to continue his training when he saw Nurana staring at the wall, her eyes troubled. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, I’m fine.” Nurana shook her head. “It’s just that after seeing you and Zaya fighting that Chimera, it’s hard not to feel like a dead weight. Why did I have to get a death affinity? I’m a healer, for Ixchel’s sake.”

“And a pretty good one, at that.”

“Sure, but that’s not enough anymore. Back when I was at the temple, I didn’t need to fight, or run. Now, all I do is stand behind you two and hope nothing comes near me.”

“For now. Once you figure out how to use your new affinity, I’m sure that’ll change. Try to get a feel for it first, the rest will come by itself.”

A slight smile tugged at Nurana’s lips. “Very sage advice.”

“I know, I had a good teacher.”

With Nurana also concentrating on her Art, Silas turned his perception inwards as he closed his eyes. According to Tom’s instructions, he had almost finished the first stage of infusing his body, with only his heart and lungs missing.

Dense, white fog greeted his sight, the connection with the Art of wood giving some spots a slight brown tinge. Yet, he also noticed something else seeping into his Inner Landscape, something that hadn’t been there a couple of weeks ago. A kind of foreign kind of energy, invading him. The edges of the fog of his Landscape crackled upon contact with the new energy, resisting the alien influence.

However, there was more. Ever so slowly, the fog closed in on the intruder, enveloping it before dispersing again, leaving nothing behind. What had just happened? Another violet wisp entered his Landscape from outside. Again, the fog condensed to wrap around the foreign energy, swirling around it like a creeper would around a tree. As the mist evaporated again, not a hint of violet remained. Now that he knew what to look for, he found the same thing happening in multiple spots of his Inner Landscape.

An uneasy feeling settled in his stomach as he noticed a few violet wisps that managed to enter his Landscape undetected. Coursing through the fog, they formed clusters of violet, settling down within him. He tried to will his Landscape to fight the foreign influence, but found himself unable to. This had to be it, Silas realized. The Taint. While his Inner Landscape was still capable of partially fighting off its influence, that could change at any moment. They were running out of time. He didn’t want to know what happened to his body if the Taint continued to spread through his Landscape.

Silas ultimately decided against using energy to continue Tom’s teachings. Even though he didn’t feel sick, he didn’t want to rob his Landscape of more energy than necessary. Instead, he chose to focus on his connection to his Art, the main thing any Wielder needed to focus on to reach the next stage. Back when he had first awakened his affinity for wood, Silas had also glimpsed at another affinity, one that had felt strikingly different to the Art of wood. He couldn’t quite grasp it, but whatever the new affinity was, it was comforting. Peaceful, yet smothering in its embrace. All-present, yet fleeting. Elusive. Something that had been with him every step of the way, helped him, even. Hid him from those seeking to do him harm. Silas could feel it on the tip of his tongue, but the deeper he tried to dig, the more it shied away from him. Becoming aware of it would be the first step, connecting it to his Inner Landscape and making it his second Art the next one if he wanted to gain control over it. Tom’s booklet had advised him to awaken at least two affinities before progressing further, although Silas didn’t understand why. Nevertheless, Silas knew better than to doubt the old man’s advice. Most of the time, at least.

A soft chuckle brought him out of his meditation. Maybe he’d win a staring match against Tom one day. Silas very much looked forward to that day.

“Your master teach you technique to make body strong?” Zaya asked him as he opened his eyes, parts of the metal contraption in her lap.

“Yes, why?”

“Curious. Only people in Steppes know technique how to become Ravuhn. In tribe of Hatagin, only one in five can learn technique. Require much energy. Much time.”

“Do you miss the Hatagin, your tribe?”

Zaya frowned at him. “Hatagin no be my tribe. I be tribe of Naija.”

“So only people in the Hatagin tribe can become Ravuhn?”

“Yes. Even in tribe, technique is much secret. Your master be Adjhin’tor?”

“No. He was Ceraviehlian, for sure.”

“Then how he know technique?”

“I don’t know.” Silas hesitated. “Remember that story Nergui told us, the one about the Artist from Ceraviehl who visited your kind to learn how to become a Ravuhn? I think I know who he was.”

Zaya looked up from the metal spring she was currently inspecting and cocked one eyebrow expectantly.

“Nergui said he was called El, right? There are quite a few stories about a rogue Artist called Elusco. He simply disappeared some hundred years ago. People were afraid of him. Feared him, even. He killed countless Mages of the Guild, and more after the Council tried to capture him. He even murdered Ignis, the hero of the pass. After a couple of decades where nobody spotted so much as a sign of Elusco, people eventually gave up. He probably just died. I think my master might have known Elusco. I just couldn’t explain how he would know the technique, otherwise.”

“You be naive, Nura Kai,” Zaya scoffed. “Ignis no be hero. Be murderer. Killed hundreds of no-warrior Adjhin’tor who tried go through mountain. Killed young people, too. Children. Maybe El from Nergui story is your Elusco, maybe not. I not think it matter.”

Silas wasn’t so sure. If Tom really had known Elusco, what did that say about his master? Elusco was known to have been one of the most powerful Artists alive, perhaps only topped by the ex-Archmage himself, Gornatius Siti. Why would his master have been friends with a ruthless murderer such as Elusco? Someone who had been hunted by half the country before eventually vanishing into thin air?

“That El in your story, how is he supposed to have been?”

Zaya thought for a moment. “Always be alone. Cold person. Much ambitious, always looking for knowledge. Have some Arts with nature, I think.”

Not much was known about Elusco’s Arts, but it did seem to add up with the stories about him. Could it be that Tom had somehow managed to learn the technique without getting the knowledge from the Hatagin? No, that didn’t seem likely, not if Zaya and her family were able to recognize it so easily. Silas had suspected it earlier, but there was no way around it. His master would have to have at least known Elusco. Then again, how come everybody knew Elusco, Ignis and the like, but nobody had even heard of his master, someone powerful enough to emit physical pressure just by his aura? Silas sighed. Stupid old man and his secrets.

***

Oddly angular fruit dangled from green vines of the thick, mat grey branches of the oak dominating the area. From this close, the fruits shone even more, each one emitting a soft, ephemeral glow. After having traversed through half the city, the tension finally left Silas’ shoulders as he noticed the tunnel did indeed slope upwards.

They stopped by a tall wall and glanced around the corner. The space before the tunnel was completely open, leaving them with no cover. A lantern stood near each side of the entry. Long, straight metal bars came from the city and disappeared somewhere within the tunnel. Far to their right, vegetation ruled every spare inch, brushes and trees growing straight out of the stone. Not a single one of them held leaves. The gigantic tree stood at the edge between the buildings and the vegetation, its fruit hanging some ten feet in the air.

“Creak, creak,” Gnarly pointed first at the tree and then the entry of the tunnel.

“Gnarly says he can grab a few fruit while we make our way towards the tunnel. Since there is no cover anywhere, we will need to sprint to avoid being seen,” Silas translated.

“You seriously want to eat those?” Nurana cast a wary glance at the spherical, glowing fruit.

“Creak,” Gnarly answered for them.

“What he said.” Zaya jabbed a thumb towards Gnarly.

“This is a stupid idea, you know that, right?” she said as she scratched her arm.

“It’s not real,” Silas said.

Nurana turned to him. “What?”

Silas gestured at her red arm, long marks from her nails already visible. “The itch. It’s from The Taint. Try to ignore it.”

“Easy for you to say.”

“Just be careful. The Taint can give you all sorts of weird thoughts. Alright, ready?” he asked, receiving a round of nods. Each of them prepared themselves to sprint towards the entry of the tunnel. Expect Gnarly, whose eyes were still glued to the fruits dangling from the branches.

“Go!” As one, the group of four ran towards the entry. A single caw above them broke the temporary silence, its echo ricocheting through the cavern.