Though Fifteen’s first day back in Cherrytown had proven quite troublesome, her luck improved drastically over the rest of the week. A big part of that was that she managed to expertly avoid Azyra. It wasn’t all that difficult considering that loud-mouth was about as subtle as an avalanche. Personality aside, her abilities as a mage were undeniably first-rate, so the rest of the guild tolerated her attitude. Fifteen couldn’t complain about that since she received similar courtesy. Much like others with the gift, she started to get restless and irritable if she went too long without making something explode and could even grow ill if she abstained too long. As such, it was practically a necessity that the guild provide places where its members could safely vent their power. The pyromancers in particular were provided with a house-sized building of solid stone with a tall, circular chimney poking out the top, commonly referred to as ‘the stove.’ Fifteen made use of its hollow, fireproof interior to discharge anywhere between a third and a half of her inner fire every day around sunset. She did so slowly and carefully, not seeing the need to raise her output to the maximum in a non-combat scenario.
This was where the guild’s leniency came in. Fifteen was well ahead of the curve compared to the average fire mage. She had a lot more fuel in the tank, so her stove sessions were far lengthier. She also performed them with much greater frequency than was strictly necessary. Indeed, her kind typically only needed to cut loose three or four times a month to keep their nerves in check, so this daily discharge was quite unusual. That was because Fifteen treated stove sessions as a mix of meditation and exercise. She didn’t visit just to relieve stress, but to refine her technique and control. After all, she wasn’t Azyra – she had neither a gifted bloodline nor a natural talent for spellcasting. It was only through constant practice and the occasional reckless risk that she could even hope to keep up with a prodigy like that. The guild understood this, so they let the Sage of the Sands make as much use of the stove as she wanted even though she scorched its interior so badly that they had to refurbish it three times more often than before she showed up.
Incidentally, that habit of hers was also why they allowed her to take that farmer’s ‘pest control’ job a few days ago. It was laughable to think anyone would hire the most powerful fire mage in town to tend to their highly flammable orchard, but it was better for the guild’s budget if Fifteen performed her daily routine on someone else’s property. Therefore, nobody in the office was surprised when they got reports of massive conflagrations in the night sky just outside of town, nor did they question why she accepted jam as payment. Plus, she got glowing recommendations from the client, so the records showed nothing out of the ordinary.
This particular week brought Fifteen more good fortune than some minor bureaucratic benefits. The owner of the Armed Arcanist gave her a good deal on some replacement straps for her brass leg. The new ones had soft fur lining to the inner sides, ensuring the belts were both snug and comfortable even if they were a little too loose or a tiny bit tight. She also managed to catch the traveling merchant she normally relied on just before he left for the far south. He would bring her letter home and, if all went well, he’d return in about a month with a fresh crate of goodies, supplies, and materials she couldn’t get around Cherrytown. She was looking forward to the honeyed dates in particular, but also dreaded what her pyromancy mentor would say about her crippling injury. That man was like a father to her. Though she hated to disappoint him, it wouldn’t be right to omit something so significant from her letters.
Those were concerns for the future. At present, Fifteen’s mind was occupied with the latest stroke of luck she received since her return to Cherrytown. It was a bounty – a subjugation request from the kingdom. A dangerous group of monsters had appeared in the Armal Mountains to the north-east and needed to be exterminated as they posed a mortal threat to human life. It was hardly what most people would consider good news, but Fifteen saw it as a golden opportunity. Firstly, it seemed like a worthwhile challenge. Secondly, she’d be contributing to public safety while also earning her keep. Thirdly, and something only she would find attractive, the target was a colony of steam elementals. Fifteen had never encountered one in person, but she learned about them back in her academy days. Their innate magic was, as their name suggested, a composite of fire and water. A less-obvious fact was that they were creatures of fey origin. These two traits made them eligible targets to serve as kindling for Fifteen’s inner fire.
In short, this was not only an opportunity to do some good and further refine her skills, but also directly enhance the volume and potency of her magic. It was the same deal she hoped to get when she set out for Ascot Village, but this time there was no mystery and very little room for surprises. The guild had received information on the type, number, and general location of the targets. Granted, these were all approximations based on the testimony of commoners from the boonies, but the margin of error was deemed slim. So, without further ado, Fifteen took the job and got ready to set out before anyone else beat her to the punch. She wasn’t the only mage on the grind, after all. Indeed, she considered her fellow guild members to be competition rather than colleagues or comrades.
Speaking of comrades, she wondered how Bahm was doing. She sensed he was fine, but hadn’t seen him since he and Azyra butted heads. A human settlement was no place for a horse-sized mountain lion, after all. Not only would the locals take issue with such a large beast prowling around, but Bahm himself didn’t feel comfortable in man-made environments. So, Fifteen let him do whatever he wanted in the wilderness around Cherrytown. Not having to clean, feed, or otherwise take care of him was one of the upsides of having such an independent familiar. Obviously she couldn’t let the saber-tooth do whatever he wanted and made sure to stress the importance of avoiding trouble. That meant staying away from all humans beside her and not attacking any domesticated animals. The concept of livestock was still difficult for the beast to understand, so Fifteen had to boil it down to ‘don’t hunt things behind fences.’
The Sage of the Sands set out as soon as she was done gathering additional information and supplies. Reconnecting with her familiar proved practically effortless. Much as when she left Ascot Village, Bahm sensed she was going on a long journey and found her along the northern road just beyond the ring of farms surrounding Cherrytown. He didn’t look much different on the outside, but Fifteen’s ability to perceive magic told her the saber-tooth hadn’t been idle. That tiny flicker of power he displayed in front of Azyra was now a steady ember – a sign that he’d been practicing just like she showed him. Though she had no way of knowing how that magic would manifest, she was satisfied to see it was well on its way to maturing into a proper inner fire. Bahm was likewise glad that his sibling was in good health and high spirits, so he returned her nod of approval with one of his own.
The pair thus set out for the white peaks on the horizon, walking side-by-side along the paved road. By the woman’s estimate, it would take about six days to reach the base of the mountain, another two to climb it and hunt down the elementals, and one more week for the return trip. It would be a significantly lengthier excursion than her last job. Normally she absolutely abhorred the traveling part of the wizard-for-hire gig, but having company made it more tolerable. Bahm was also a huge help when it was time to set up camp. A nocturnal creature, he kept watch while Fifteen slept at night and they swapped places at sunrise. They resumed traveling once he woke up around noon and stopped for the day shortly before sunset, then repeated the process. Some might call this a terrible idea considering summer was in full swing and the air got quite hot in the latter half of the day, but Fifteen was a fire mage. The higher the ambient temperature, the better she felt. Bahm was her familiar and would adopt this trait in time, but for the moment occasionally expressed displeasure at the heat. The sorceress would then remind him it was his fault that they couldn’t travel in the morning while the air was cooler. That was usually enough to curb his complaints, at least for a while.
As for the people they encountered along the way, they had some understandably mixed reactions. Most were wary of the weirdo with the massive pet and simply gave them a wide berth. The remaining few were intrigued and approached, eager to satisfy their curiosity with inane questions. A mean look and a low growl from Bahm was enough to get the message across, and they promptly resumed minding their own business on the other side of the road. Such unwanted social interaction was one of the reasons why Fifteen hated traveling, so she repaid these interventions with an appreciative scratch behind the ears. She made sure to keep those interactions brief since Bahm wasn’t used to her touch and too much skin contact made him uncomfortable. Fifteen could empathize. Truth be told, she was a lot more eager to hug and cuddle the big furball initially. Then she quickly found out it wasn’t anywhere near as pleasant as she imagined. The top of his head was alright, but the rest of his coat was rough, oily, and generally unpleasant. It was nothing like the house cats she was familiar with. Obvious in retrospect, but disappointing nonetheless.
Back on the subject of human interaction, Bahm largely shared Fifteen’s aversion to it. He circled around any small settlements the pair encountered on the road since neither wanted to deal with a reception like the one they got in Cherrytown. This included the small village of Coleton at the base of the Armal Mountains, which they reached on the evening of the fifth day. This was quicker than anticipated, and the difference was too much to write it off as a simple miscalculation. Fifteen already knew the reason – walking didn’t tire her out as much as it used to before she lost her leg. This allowed her to move at a quicker pace that covered more ground per day even though she spent less time on the road. Bahm was obviously the cause, though she wasn’t sure if it was because his presence made the experience less frustrating or if their bond was having a positive effect on her constitution. It was well within the realm of possibility, judging from what she learned from the guild’s texts on familiars. She had studied the subject as an apprentice, of course, but it was only prudent to refresh her memory.
Put simply, the reason most mages made familiars out of nonmagical critters was because that was the safest option. The animal would receive some benefits like heightened intelligence and perhaps a minor magical ability while the human would scarcely notice a difference – a few weird cravings for food at most. It was a two-way bond, after all, and when one side held all the power it settled into a no-nonsense master-servant relationship. A magical beast like a saber-tooth was a whole different matter, and a connection with one would cause far more severe changes in both parties. Hopefully for the better, but there was no guarantee. In fact, there were some rather concerning records of wizards who tried to make monsters into their familiars. The bond caused the human body to slowly transform as it took on bestial aspects at random, like scaly hides, leathery wings, or razor-sharp claws. Those sounded useful at first, but they never manifested in the appropriate place. Indeed, calling them ‘transformations’ was far too pleasant a term for such malignant growths. ‘Tumors’ was a far more accurate word. There was one particularly nasty case of a woman whose skull started growing horns inward, putting pressure on her brain until she was effectively lobotomized.
However, such things were ancient history from when human mages first appeared, an era rife with unethical and freaky experiments. Adopting magical beasts as familiars had been a stigma since, and though modern medicine had the means to treat most life-threatening tumors, it was widely accepted within the large-hatted community that bonding with anything deadlier than an eagle or a hunting dog was a bad idea. Strictly speaking, Fifteen taking a saber-tooth as familiar should have earned her a good deal of derision, yet that didn’t happen. It would seem Bahm’s species was considered to be in a sweet spot, a largely unexplored gray area – too strong to be deemed completely safe, but nowhere near powerful enough to expect the worst. Therefore, Fifteen’s peers approached the news with academic curiosity rather than outright apprehension. The guild’s leadership must have felt the same, otherwise they would have ordered the familiar put down for the sake of the wizard’s health and humanity. They might still do so if things took a bad turn in future, but a ‘wait and see’ was the best outcome Fifteen could realistically hope for. This development was yet another reason to consider the week she spent in Cherrytown to be quite fortunate indeed. Hopefully the good luck would continue and minor benefits like a boost in stamina would be the only side-effects she experienced.
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Once again, those were future concerns, and at present, Fifteen and Bahm had a mountain to climb. One would think this would be a simple matter since the saber-tooth would be intimately familiar with this type of terrain and could just carry the wizard up to where they needed to be. Unfortunately, this assumption failed to consider that Bahm was a proud apex and refused to be ridden or carry luggage. Fifteen didn’t even bother asking. The mental connection made her distinctly aware of her partner’s feelings on certain matters without bringing them up, just as he knew that she hated it when random people on the road tried to chit-chat with her. She therefore had to give up on a somewhat childish dream of riding into battle on the mountain lion’s back. Not that it would work even if he agreed. She had zero experience with riding, let alone casting spells while mounted, so it could only end badly.
Bahm nevertheless proved quite handy during the ascent. Though he refused to carry Fifteen up difficult slopes or steep cliffs, he could traverse such obstacles with ease and scout ahead. The mage also had the idea of having the saber-tooth bite down on one end of a sturdy rope, then hold it steady while she used the line to help her climb. It worked great at first, but Bahm’s fangs proved a little too sharp and the rope snapped while Fifteen was dangling from it. Thankfully the fall wasn’t high enough to cause any real damage, just a bruised butt and similarly injured ego. She had no choice but to ascend the mountainside the hard way, but it was hardly an issue. She was an experienced adventurer, after all, and Bahm was nice enough to explore the area and guide her along the easiest route. Between them, the climb was perfectly manageable even with the leg handicap.
Of course, this would be immeasurably easier if she could just fly like that damnable loud-mouth. How come she had such an easy life while Fifteen had to bust her ass wherever she went? Calling it unfair was putting things lightly.
Such idle thoughts both infuriated the Sage and spurred her on. She had done a great job avoiding that slacker, but had a hunch she’d come racing to snatch this bounty the instant she caught wind that Fifteen had taken the job, just to mess with her. Wouldn’t be the first time, and the pyromancer had returned the favor once or twice. Thankfully, the fire mage had a solid head start on her air-headed rival. Sure, one could travel at great speeds while flying, but all magic demanded a price. In Fifteen’s case, setting the world ablaze caused her body temperature to diminish even as it seared her flesh, and she could expire from hypothermia if she overdid it. Azyra would suffer similarly if she pushed herself too far, only instead of freezing to death in summer her lungs stopped working right and her stamina drained rapidly as a result. If she took it too far she would pass out and might even suffocate. A brief bout against a saber-tooth or a short flight up a mountain would be no issue, but maintaining a flight spell for hours on end was impossible and the attempt would leave her too exhausted to even stand. Sure, she’d cover a lot of distance in that short time, but nowhere near as much as a day’s brisk walk.
To make a long story short, if Azyra wanted to swoop in and steal Fifteen’s prey, she’d have to take the same land route from Cherrytown to Coleton. Previous contests had proven that the desert-dweller’s ability to put one foot in front of the other was superior and that was before this recent boost in endurance. In short, she had a head start. The loud-mouth could very well make up that difference on this final, vertical stretch, however. The targets were about 4,000 meters above sea level – two-thirds of the way to the tallest peak – and Azyra could easily reach that height in under an hour. So, even though she understood she was probably just being paranoid, Fifteen was thankful for Bahm’s assistance in navigating the mountainside with haste. His presence also seemed to ward off most animals, both harmless and otherwise. This was probably intentional. Despite his size, the saber-tooth could be incredibly quiet if he so wished. Sensing his sibling’s urgency, he opted to be loud and obvious, lest some dumb beast pose an obstacle. It worked great, right up until it didn’t.
“GWOOOOAK!”
A loud, piercing cry echoed over the mountain range. Fifteen recognized that sound as belonging to one of the area’s more noteworthy monsters, a gigantic bird of prey called a roc. This was bad. Normally she’d incinerate that overgrown turkey the instant it showed itself, but she was in a rather precarious position right now. She was on a narrow stretch of rock just barely wide enough for her to stand, jagged cliffs above and below. Any attempt to draw a staff and assume a casting stance carried a risk of her falling over and probably breaking every bone in her body. Bahm was on the cliff above and had been patiently waiting for her to catch up when the roc announced its presence. The saber-tooth sensed the other’s concern and pricked his ears, trying to determine where the enemy was coming from.
“GWAK! GWAK! GWAK!”
He didn’t achieve much before the roc appeared seemingly out of nowhere. It flew in from behind a large outcropping somewhere below the wizard at such speed that it seemed like a blur of multi-colored feathers. If one were to ignore that massive wingspan, its body was roughly the size of a thoroughbred warhorse – slightly bigger than Bahm. Its vision was focused on the tasty-looking yellow thing clinging to the side of the cliff, but a fierce roar from the saber-tooth quickly diverted its attention upward. It was a challenge from the king of one mountain to the ruler of another, and the roc could not ignore it. It flew up past Fifteen, kicking up winds that made her robes flap and nearly knocked her off the side. Seeing as she wasn’t its immediate target, the wizard calmed her breath and redoubled her efforts to reach stable ground. Up above, the roc and the saber-tooth were engaging in a stare-down. The avian maintained an altitude well out of reach and squawked loudly while the feline on the cliff edge lowered its stance and roared, exposing not just the massive fangs it was named for but also the ones in its maw.
This went on for a few tense moments before the roc made the first move. It swooped in talons-first in an attempt to grab the interloper and drop him on a pointy rock. Instead, the saber-tooth leaped up to meet the flying nuisance halfway. The flying creature didn’t expect this and was caught off-guard. By all accounts, it was a foolish move. The feline would tumble helplessly down the mountain if it missed or if the roc managed to dodge out of the way. Neither happened, however. Despite his lack of depth perception, Bahm’s pounce was right on the money. He collided with the surprised roc’s torso, claws and fangs latching onto the dense plumage. This further startled the flying monster, making it flap its wings in a panic as the dangling weight threw it off-balance. Its momentum carried it forward, causing both beasts to tumble across the grassy plateau atop that treacherous cliff.
There was an intense, chaotic struggle as cat and bird wrestled with one another. They traded claw and fang for talon and beak while the lush grass stained both green. The point-blank frenzy came to an abrupt stop when a lucky kick from the roc finally pushed Bahm off and created some distance between them. The gap widened further as both creatures rose to their feet and warily sized each other up once more. The feathered fiend seemed to have taken quite a mauling. Clumps of the white feathers along its belly were pulled out and scattered around, and the blue plumage around its neck and head had some wet red stains. Its enormous crimson wings were in perfect condition and the glare in its bright yellow eyes was as sharp as ever, so it was safe to say the injuries weren’t serious. Bahm seemed to be in a slightly better state, with only a few minor scratches that barely even bled.
“GWOOOOAK!”
“HRAAAARGHRRR!”
The beasts exchanged vocal threats as the tension between them hit its limit. To nobody’s surprise, the roc started flapping its wings with great strength and speed. The winds it kicked up buffeted Bahm, forcing him to lower his stance and grip the grassy ground or be swept away. He couldn’t get closer like this and had no choice but to let the enemy take off. The monstrous bird ascended steadily for a few seconds and then beat a hasty retreat down the steep slope, hoping to disappear as rapidly as it had arrived. Though the roc hadn’t noticed the supreme danger at first, it felt its neck feathers stand on end when it flew past that yellow-wrapped human earlier. It knew then and there that the woman was many times stronger than itself, and that massive threat had almost finished climbing to solid ground. So, in a show of superior intelligence, the roc decided to withdraw and let that stray feline deal with the monstrous human. This choice was immediately proven correct when a beam of concentrated heat narrowly singed its head feathers just before it ducked out of sight.
“Tsk. Missed.”
Fifteen couldn’t help but click her tongue in frustration. Though hunting rocs wasn’t on her agenda, she wouldn’t complain if she managed to bag one. Their eyes and feathers were valuable ingredients and their meat was delicious. Still, letting it escape wasn’t all bad. At least now the bird-brain and its ilk would know to steer clear of this area, which happened to be a good spot to rest for the night. She still had some daylight, but had made it rather close to her target altitude and she’d rather rest before finishing the climb and challenging those elementals. So, she got busy pitching her tent and building a firepit, intent on wrapping up the job tomorrow. As the sun set, however, she was made distinctly aware of just how bloody cold it was up here. Fire mages were right at home in sweltering temperatures, but suffered greatly in freezing weather. Things would only get worse for Fifteen as she continued to ascend. The elementals she was after were so far up the mountain that she’d be treading snow well before she found them. Naturally, she knew all this and came prepared, but the sudden onset of chilly winds was still profoundly unpleasant.
Not wishing to suffer them any longer, she crawled inside her tiny tent. She took off her robes’ outermost layer and splayed the hooded coat-like garment out on the ground. She then retrieved a small brush and a short, wide vial from her bag. Popping the cork on the container, she dumped its viscous, off-white contents onto the flattened yellow fabric and started spreading them around with the brush. She covered as much of the sunsilk as she could with an even coat, and let it soak for a few minutes. The vibrant yellow fabric gradually grew paler and lighter until it took on a pearly-white hue. Fifteen was practically freezing by this point – the flimsy tent did little to keep the chilly air out – so she hurriedly slipped back into the garment and curled up. Once she felt as though she’d sufficiently warmed up, she took a second vial of insulating oil and repeated the process with her face-wraps and some of her inner layers. In all honesty, she probably should’ve done that sooner, but the climb made her sweat so much that she might have overheated if she did. Yes, fire mages liked to stay toasty, but there was such a thing as ‘too hot’ even for them.
Her preparations complete, Fifteen emerged from the tent and took a short walk around her meager campsite. The temperature was even lower now and the nasty winds had picked up, but her white-dyed robes successfully kept the cold out even though they were so thin that she could feel the air brushing against her skin. It was a strangely nostalgic feeling, evoking memories of chilly desert nights. She had to oil up like this back then too, though she’d have to spread the stuff a lot thinner than she did today. Back then she needed it to only last the night, but her current circumstances meant she might need to spend a few nights up here if she was unlucky. That wasn’t an issue since the thick coat she applied just now would hold tight for about sixty hours straight. Unless, of course, she took a bunch of steam blasts from those elementals, but that’s why she brought a backup vial. It wouldn’t be funny at all if she defeated her enemies only to immediately freeze to death after.
A thought then occurred to her. What about Bahm? Sure, saber-tooths were technically plus-sized mountain lions, but they probably weren’t built for the kind of altitude she was aiming for. An egregious oversight, in retrospect. She’d probably have to leave him here to guard the camp while she took on the elementals by herself. Unfortunate. Fifteen was quietly looking forward to seeing her familiar in action ever since they were bonded, but missed every opportunity so far. Both the tussle against the roc and the ‘spar’ against Azyra were practically over before she got a good look. Oh, well. There would surely be other opportunities to see her familiar kick some ass. Wait… Wasn’t she just making assumptions about Bahm’s ability to handle snowy climates? She decided to check with him just in case, and the answer she received was… a mixed bag.
While Fifteen was relieved that the saber-tooth did indeed have cold climate adaptations, she wasn’t prepared for him to deploy his thick winter coat with an audible ‘floosh’ the instant she asked.