Portals were fun things.

All you needed was to draw a ring and focus some magic into it. Speak the magic to activate it and you could go anywhere. Well, not exactly anywhere. The distance that a Mage could connect with a portal was directly related to the strength of a mage. Some places were warded. These wards created a dead zone of sorts, a place where you wouldn’t be able to see while trying to open the portal. Dragon space was the biggest one. Earth was the most popularly known planet to be warded against portals. As Stilas stepped through the portal, he smiled to himself. Just because Earth was warded against portals, it did not mean that ships above Earth were.

Stilas stepped through the portal onto the Camadt’s Bite. The earsplitting hum of the Anti-Projection alarm drove stars across Stilas’ vision. He allowed himself to wince once before pulling the death wand off of his belt. The pilot lying on the bed in front of him had barely risen to check the alarm before Stilas spoke the word of death in a soft whisper.

“Die.”

Stilas’ grin stretched between his ears as the purple bolt washed over the Elementalist’s black uniform. He quickly rolled the Elementalist over. The black tattoo on his right hand leaked ink onto his fingers as he traced a black X on the dying Elves’ forehead. The forbidden magic sealed the Elemental that would form from the spirit of the dead Elementalist inside the corpse. He looked into the Elementalist’s red eyes as he died. He was glad that he didn’t have to fight a fire Elemental in such a small room.

Stilas mumbled a few power words and the corpse vanished into the dimensional pocket the Dark Master had given him. The clothes that the Pilot had been wearing were still on the bed and he flipped his robe off and quickly slipped into the pilot’s uniform. He rolled his shoulders as the uniform quivered and conformed to the new body that it was covering.

Stilas picked up his robe and pulled out a felt-covered black box the size of his hand. He opened the lid and took out two red contacts. He touched the lens with the tip of his finger and placed them into his eyes one at a time. He blinked three times as the contacts got settled into place.

Black eyes would not be good when on the ship of a Mage hunter. Stilas normally would have used a simple spell to change the color of his eyes, but Mage hunters spent decades training their senses to detect magic like that. So no matter how uncomfortable the contacts were, he was going to wear them.

The dark mage tossed the container onto his robe and pulled two red gloves out of another pocket. Owning a pair of Dragon Leather gloves would be enough to have the Dragons hunting for him. Thankfully the rest of the Universe thought he was dead and he would never let anyone see him use them.

Stilas put on the gloves and took out one more container. It was made from lead, so it took both hands to lift it, even though it was small enough to fit into one hand. The outside was wrapped in the same dragon leather that he had made the gloves from. He eased the container open. Resting on dragon leather that lined the inside was a dried-up stick. As he picked up the stick, the cold aura of the dead creature chilled his hand to the bone, even through the Dragon leather. Stilas had found the Magic Leach years ago while in exile. The Magic Leach had almost sucked out all of his Magic before Stilas had crushed its head with a rock. The dark Mage had preserved the Magic Leach’s body to use as a weapon against Mages but decided that it was too hazardous after his first battle. Instead, Stilas now used it to erase all traces of Magic when he needed to vanish.

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Stilas walked over the wall that he had used as the receiver for his portal and rubbed the Magic Leach over it. His arm stiffened from the pain of magic leaving, so he swapped to his left hand. Stilas walked over to the bed and waved the Magic Leach over the bed before dropping it back into the box. Stilas snapped the box shut and let out a breath of relief as his magic began flowing properly.

Stilas took off the gloves and replaced them in his robe before sending the entire package into the dimensional pocket. He congratulated himself on how nicely he had slipped onto the ship. With no magic trace of what he had done, no one would be suspicious. Besides, Magic Leaches were extinct. They had all died when the Camadt’s homeworld had been destroyed.

The door opened and Stilas stiffened. He slowly reached down to the bed and picked up the black Elf military gloves. The black leather quickly hid the tattoos on his hands. Stilas hoped that the Elf behind him hadn’t seen his tattoos. With no staff or wand to defend himself, he was at the mercy of whoever was behind him if they chose to attack before he could summon his staff.

Stilas allowed himself a small breath as the door closed.

“You should be more careful,” The strong voice of his Dark Master friend chastised him. “That slip-up could’ve cost us this entire operation!”

Stilas turned around to look at the purple-robed figure in front of him, “I could’ve handled myself.”

A fireball appeared in the Elder’s hand, flew through the air, and stopped an inch away from Stilas’ nose.

“No.” The Elder stated as he squeezed his hand and the fireball extinguished, “You couldn’t.”

Stilas gulped and bowed his head to the Elder, “Do they suspect anything?”

“They are all fools.” The Dark Master said, “They are focusing all their energy on a foolish prophecy.”

“The one about the human Triftion?” Stilas licked his lips, “I’d love to play with that one.”

“In time.” The Dark Master patted Stilas on the shoulder, forcing Stilas to sit on the bed. “For now you need to focus on the mission.”

Stilas nodded, “I’m here. Now what?”

The Dark Master snapped his fingers and they were on Earth.

Stilas looked around the brush. By the flora, he guessed that they were somewhere around the equator. Sounds of explosions came from his right and he heard people crashing through the greenery.

“I have to go back to do my job.” The Dark Master tossed Stilas a ring. “That will give you some control over fire.” The Dark Master’s voice ran so cold that Stilas stiffened, “ONLY use fire. Nothing else.”

Stilas nodded obediently as he took the glove on his right hand off, slipped on the ring, then replaced the glove. “I will.”

“I doubt it.” The Dark Master said sarcastically as he vanished.

“You’re right.” Stilas smirked as he called a fireball in his right hand and turned to meet the fleeing people, “I lied.”