Chapter 22: Power, Progress, and Roots

The eight parchments Magali had given me were now six magic scrolls, three [torchlight] and three [heat], leaving two to experiment with. Three, if I found a way to use the one that I had accidentally marked up the last time. There was a drop of ink with a vertical smear of some more above it. It almost looked like an exclamation point. I wasn’t sure what I could do with it, so I let some ideas percolate in the recess of my mind. Maybe I could get the [Mark .07] to dedicate a sub-routine to it, ha! There ought to be something I could put all that processing power to.

I only had the two types of ink to work with, both common quality. One had been tailored for the [torchlight]s, with paraffin, and the other with added vermiculite for [heat]. I didn’t know any other recipes, yet, so I was limited in scope. I wanted to try out my idea of over-infusing [heat] and setting of a chain reaction, so I grabbed a primed sheet of parchment and set it before myself on the kitchen table. The tabletop had collected a few more dings—and ink slpots and a teeny-tiny, barely visible (if you’re blind), scorch mark.

I did my centering exercise, then delved deep in to the aether. This was where the mind-vision-[mana] blended and let the user see into the Void where the bonds of creation and matter co-existed. I could see the internal structures behind the individual cell walls, and the multitudinous arcs of every imaginable type of energy dancing in ever-changing hues of color. This must be how God—or the gods—saw the universe. It was a heady feeling, and explained the arrogance of most [mana] users.

“By the power of Greyskull! I have the power!” I thrust my hand in the air, an imaginary sword piercing the sky. It was a good thing that I was alone. Well, except for Stormy. The black tabby gave me a flat, amber-eyed stare.

I dove back down into the Void, after my little surface-breaching jaunt. When I primed this sheet, I had filled the cells to a comfortable capacity, just as I was taught. Now, unlike enchantments or finalized scrolls, changes could still be made at this stage. Was it a touch volatile to leave a parchment primed and ready? Only as much as leaving a shotgun loaded and cocked. And that is why a [Scrivener] infused them as needed, instead of keeping reams of primed parchments lying around. Ka-boom! Aaah-ah-ha-ha! JK, not so much. It was more of a flash and sizzle, but you could lose an eyebrow that way (you would know)! I rubbed above my eye, feeling the stubble growing back.

I poured more energy into the cells, stopping when I saw bulges begin to pepper the surfaces. This was the delicate part, next, so I did a quick re-centering to stabilize my metaphysical hands. Careful, be careful. I brushed a light touch of [mana] across the cells, then waited for it to be absorbed. Then I did it again, and waited. And again. I lost track of how many times I did this, laser focused in my work. Stars were born, flared, and died in the microcosm I lorded over, supreme and uncontested. I felt the slightest flicker of attention at ‘uncontested’, but ignored it with the full measure of arrogance that I was due. I pushed as far as I dared, then added one more layer to be taken in. Just short of bursting, their membranes fluctuated and roiled, angry soap bubbles on methylphenidate (that’s just Ritalin, jack-ass).

I pulled out (don’t! Just, no), and swiped the back of my hand across my brow. That was a whole bunch of calories burnt. My palm came away wet with sweat. It was so bad I looked around for something to wipe it off on.

“Stormy? Here, kitty-kitty!” The ingrate flashed his tail at me, then headed down the short hall to Tess’s room. “Traitor, I’m the one that rescued you from a life on the streets!” I called after the little bastard. “The mean streets of Oakheart, ‘dun-dun’!” Jeez, I have more social interaction with that darned cat than other people. My inner bickering (and exposition) showed how exhausted I was.

I checked the over-clocked parchment resting in front of me. It fairly radiated [mana], and I could see wisps of it floating off the page without having to toggle my [mana-sight]. OK, step one complete. I was afraid to touch the thing, so I was careful not to brush it as I reached for some ink. I had put tiny labels on the vials, ‘V’ for vermiculite and ‘P’ for paraffin. The two different inks looked identical to me with the naked eye, and I wondered how Masters like Alric could always tell them apart. Maybe a [mana] resonance, or something like that. Hmm, that resonance theory—that I’d just thought of—was a new path begging for exploration. But, later. Same with the ‘naked eye’, my implants giving me access to so much more than plain sight, and I already knew I could customize the labels I saw. Add both to my mental list. I should also look for a notes function, yeah!

Stay on target.

I dipped my quill (careful), worrying my my lower lip with my teeth. If this parchment blew on me, I’d need a [Healer] to re-attach it. My tongue pulsed in remembered pain. I traced the first strokes of my pen against the sheet, spelling out the word ‘heat’ in [ink; common] (‘V’). Yes, Magali had let me know that the language of magic was the concept of a word spelled out in the ancient dialect. I have to say, I was a little disappointed in the simplicity. The first pass complete, I repeated it with a firmer hand, and firmer intent. The same as with infusing the cells. A touch as light as a whisker, over and over, with building layers of ink and intent. When I was down to the last tracing, I pulled back from my trance. I needed a moment to figure out the new trigger I intended, so I could modify the outcome. I wanted all of the [heat] to blast out instantaneously, along with the micro explosions of overcharged cells. An exothermic combustion of epic proportion, he-he.

'Wait, should I be doing this in the apartment?', was my last thought before my hand moved of its own volition. AND THEN…nothing too dramatic. The glistening shimmer of a success crawled across the ink laid to parchment, and a magic scroll of [heat-blast] was born.

Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.

*Ding!*

*Ding!*

*Ding!*

Whoa. That last one about turned my brain to pulp, triggering a migraine of epic proportion. I slammed my elbows down on the table, and clutched my head in both hands. I pulled the long, sparse strands of my hair (not fooling anyone with the comb-over, dude) away from my vibrating skull until the roots were about to give, and held them there, trying to physically drag the pain out. Mother Trucker. It had not hurt this bad since the initial switch-on.

Hold-on-hold-on-hold-on; just endure.

…book…Book…”Book!”

I knew she was there, Tess. I knew it, and I tried to care. It wasn’t until she spun my chair around, and knelt with less than an inch between us, face to face, that I could focus on her. The concern in her eyes saved me, brought me back from the brink.

Whoa. I had already said it, and I’ll say it again, “Whoa.”

“Dude, what happened? And let you hair go, for acorn’s sake!”

She gave me ‘dude’, and I gave her my new swear. We were close like that, a meeting of the minds, two peas…Oh, yeah. I let go of my hair, taking more than a few hairs away in my fingers. I could feel what’s left sticking straight out from my sweaty dome. I must look like I had a Van der Graaf generator shoved up, uh, clutched in my hands.

I focused on the sprinkle of freckles that decorated Tess under the eyes, and let the implications of what had just happened stream freely. There were pulsing flashes coloring the edges of my vision in a green glow. A new, bold-typed message was plastered before my eyes.

“Tess. Level 2. I just made level 2!” I pulled her up with me as I sprang to my feet, and snatched her close in a tight embrace.

“Dude, that’s awesome!” She made a slight pull against the embrace, so I let her go.

“I think it almost killed me, though.”

“You look like it,” she said. Tess took a quick step towards me, then used her hands to smooth my hair back, followed by another quick step back. It all happened before I had a chance to react. “Tell me.”

I needed to know first, so I inspected the scroll on the table.

*[Heat-blast] scroll; minor, common quality, single-use.

(When invoked, a small exothermic combustion will occur at a point determined by the user. Range, 3 meters; Cast time, instant.)

Crafted by Jasper Bookmyer, Apprentice.

Bonded by…[error]*

First off, damn. Second, three meters was what, about nine feet? That was close, too close for me. A good thing I wouldn’t be the one using it. It was also the first time I’d seen a power quality, ‘minor’, on one of my scrolls. Something had gone right to achieve that. No power description meant blah, my usual standard. Workable. And for that last bit, the [error], what gives? This creation was my own, with no Master Alric involved, so that could be it. Unsanctioned and unapproved, my signature all the way.

Next, I checked my notifications.

*[Folder]->[Skill]->

* 1. [Translation; superior]

2. [Ink; poor]->[Ink; common]->[Ink; good]

3. [Torchlight; common]

4. [Aether-sight; common]

(The ability to peer into the Void and see the energies of creation)

5. [Over-charge; common]

(The ability to [mana] fill cells to the point of no return, then one step more)*

That was the first two *Ding!*s. I had hardly felt those. Then came the whopper.

*[Class], [Scrivener; apprentice]

(Bonded by Alric Tavoryn, Master)

[Level], 2; [Progress], 9 / 16*

Followed by,

*[Folder]->[Skill (2)]->

* 1. [Heat-blast; common]

2. [Open]……………….

3. [Open]………………………

4. [Open]………………………

5. [Open]……………………..

[Folder]->[Title]->

* 1. [Experimental Pioneer]

(Congratulations! You were stupid…BOLD…enough to play with fire and create a new, unique scroll.

+10% chance to successfully discover new applications of [mana] with intent in regards to magical scroll making.)

2. [Open]………………………*

The new descriptions for the [Skill]s must be a feature of the long suspected learning algorithm. Either that or the [Mark .07] felt I needed more information for the new ones. A willful decision? That implied a whole slew of insight I’d need to consider. List; Added. Where was that notes app?

[Title]s were new, too. And cool, I must say. It looked like there was space for two of them at this [Level]. A 10% increase in possibility was a good boon, but how was that even measured? Magali new some magical theory from his time scribing, so I’d figure a way to ask without giving my origins away. The snark had to be from my influence, no question. The [Mark .07] and my brain were inextricably intertwined…indubitably? (yup, what’s the sound of one hand clapping?)…so it was bound (inevitable!) to happen.

[Level] was expected, and [Progress] was intuitive. 9 of 16, and I had nine slots filled between [Skill]s and [Spell]s—if you counted the three iterations of [ink; …]—which jumped me to [Level; 2] with an addition under [Skill (2)], so carry the three and multiply by the inverse, add one for luck, and you have the formula. Remember, Not a math major.

[Level; 1] 0-8 [Skill]/[Spell]s, including differing progressions of quality.

[Level; 2] 9-16 [Skill]/[Spell]s, including differing progressions of quality.

[Level; 3] 17-25 [Skill]/[Spell]s, including differing progressions of quality?

Not a very fast progression, it seemed. The 25 [Skill]/[Spell]s would feel impossible, only the ‘differing progressions of quality’ keeping it from a total spirit crushing.

“That is…a lot, Book.”

“Yep.”

“Nicki level pain?”

“Ricki, yes.”

“Shit.”

“Thankfully, I didn’t.” I grinned at Tess. “Close, but no.” What is with the face? Come on, that was funny.

Tess tapped her pursed lips, a clear sign she was in deep thought.

“Tess?” Then I took a gamble, and said “You’re close, aren't you?”

She stopped tapping, giving me a fearful look. “I hit eight on the scale, today.”

“Well,” I told her. “I hope your hair has stronger roots than mine.”