Orphan At The Edge Of The World - 262 The Magician 20

The young mage hadn’t been passive during this time. He figured there were more ‘up to no good’ antics happening behind the scenes. Using the supercharged key’s excess to ‘sew’ a thread of connection to his other two companions, he communicated with them. There was a thready pulse of life present in the underground area where they had first arrived as well.

He couldn’t imagine what kind of hearty soul had managed to survive two weeks in a place with no food and very little accessible water but he was about to find out. Before he could enact his plan, the young mage wanted to make sure that the companions with him wanted to be a part of it. He also wanted to make sure his one time godson and daughter were alright as well.

With all the unexpected secret room backstabbing going on, the ‘old’ young witch had ‘abducted’ Cole and was nearly a thousand miles removed from the drama. The feline young man didn’t have a chance. It wouldn’t take long for their weird dynamic to change into something deeper and more meaningful.

Oleander had communicated to Orison through Adam. She had a plan to get the Rogers man out of the mage compound by using some dirt Amos had on his instructor. She had rightfully predicted that Orison would have a lot more freedom to carry out his own plans if there weren’t people he was concerned with around. With access to her mentor’s emergency escape stash, she and her crew had put some distance between them and ‘ground zero’ as well.

Adam was more than happy to settle his spiritual debt with Orison by playing military nanny to the crew instead of continuing on with the young mage. His ability to rope the instructor into a more long term addition for added protection made him crucial to a more solid and permanent escape. He didn’t seem that keen on traveling with Orison to begin with. But underneath it all, he was an honorable man with a decent ability to make the most of what life dealt him.

Turning his attention onto the person trapped and dying inside the underground ruin, the first thing he noticed was that the person had no previous connection to himself. They had a strong soul and a honed will that the young mage could appreciate, though. And in his heart of hearts, Orison was becoming a bit tired of tangling with souls that were showing stronger and stronger signs of desiring distance from him.

On his side, he would use the spiritual debt the world had accumulated with him to grant some acceptance for his key to ferry the main part of himself elsewhere in reality. Taking down demon fingers hadn’t just been useful to the key but appreciated by the will that governed reality in a vague and impersonal way. Whether it would be completely enough was still up in the air. But if the debt shifted in his direction a little, he had intended to play low-key nice from the beginning anyway.

Once he felt the initial tugs of a summoning on his true name, Orison softened his pattern and allowed his key to take him in. With a gentle push, the world’s rejection pushed the conduit acting like an inter-dimensional phylactery out. Simultaneously, the crafted avatar was materializing into the summoning circle.

From his viewpoint ‘on high’, the young mage saw that the dying person was a deep elf man or whatever that world’s perception of underground dwelling elves to be. The man seemed to have experienced some kind of accident while using a planar artifact that was stronger than his know-how could handle. Like a great deal of the demonic blooded elves kind, his soul had a stain and curse to it but it showed strong signs of lightening.

Mentally chuckling, Orison thought, “A deep elf on a path of redemption that wasn’t a spiritually chaotic train wreck at the start would be a first. Alright, it’s my first avatar and he seems like he’s TRYING to make good. Let’s be nice and give him what he wants within reason. It’ll make for a decent in-flight movie.

Speaking through the avatar, Orison said, “Speak your heart to me and I will grant you what aid your sincerity earns you.”

The deep elf had exhausted the majority of his remaining energy in casting the summoning circle with dribbles of blood from his own ruined body. “Want to live… lost… so alone.”

Orison tried not to laugh. The guy was so pure hearted and soulful, the young mage had to wonder how the man had been born into such a cruel and darkness steeped place as most underbellies of magical worlds tended to be.

“No need to be stingy. I’ll load up the avatar with all the bits of Reese, Green and White that Al and Piran saved. I’ll shadow pact it everything that the sacrifice will let fit as well. Who knows how much mileage it’ll get but it should at least get the guy out of his current fix as long as he doesn’t throw a turd into the sacrifice section,” he thought.

The deep elf placed a page that was liberally coated in his own gore onto the sacrifice portion of the circle. The moment that Orison registered the page as being noticeably ‘realer than real’ he mentally gulped nervously within the key as the circle activated. For a few minutes, Orison got to experience what it was like to be a pact shadow. His soul core flipped to be inside the avatar long enough for the desolate realm to slurp up the page, previous owner and avatar.

The young mage suddenly had years worth of deep trance learning to attend to as he traveled through a strange, psychedelically gassy void with the phantom key as his vessel. And for the first time, there was a surplus of essence running out of the desolate realm. The ruined tower needed to play catch-up with the copious amount of ‘building material’ it found itself in possession of.

“Dear gawd, what was that!? How could a single little page hold that much? Well, before I’m pulled into who knows how long a nap, I’ll consciousness mark the two of them so I can experience a bit of living from time to time.

“No pervy intended… Not much anyway. I don’t want to wake up as some dry academic mage whose forgotten how to be a people,” Orison thought right before deep trance claimed him.

***

The deep elf awoke feeling weak, nauseous and cold. As his senses oriented themselves, he heard a lyrical woman’s voice singing.

“There once was a man named Owen the bard. Really a quite vexing fellow. Silver of tongue and warty of d***, the reincarnation of Mellow… It’s not hard at all. Just about anybody can… Oh, you’re awake! Please pretend you didn’t hear that!” an ocean eyed, redheaded woman said.

With a faint blush on her cheeks, she presented the naked man a set of leathers as she slightly looked to the side. “Not the finest work I’m capable of but better than letting the naughty bits flap in the breeze… so to speak. I know we’re underground and all but…”

The dark elven man snatched up the leathers and undergarments.

He dressed in the speed of light while gazing at the woman with mild fear and heavy suspicion. “What happened to my equipment?”

The woman looked at him in annoyance and said, “You should be thankful our patron’s not a tool. Your sacrifice was coated in your blood and whatever else. He could have taken YOU, much less your equipment. But to answer your question, it was an involuntary and completely unintentional reaction to accepting your sacrifice and attempting to fulfill whatever you asked for.

“We’re in luck it seems. Some poor shapeshifter type made a decent run of the place before biting the big one on a magic trap. Most of the time you were napping, I went around collecting what I could safely.”

The deep elf quickly gathered everything that was piled up while eyeballing her equipment. She didn’t have much. A bit worn but serviceable set of clothing was partially obscured by a silken and billowy open front over robe. At her side was a small bag that glowed under his magic sensitive sight.

He said, “Show me what’s in the bag.”

With a slightly hurt expression, she emptied it. The contents were relatively meager in comparison to the pile in his own newly acquired bag of holding. In all, there was around a tenth of the vulgar wealth, an old wizard’s tome and a few of the less impressive items more geared towards personal survival than power. After checking over the items in his possession, he felt that he had wronged her quite thoroughly.

“If all is as it seems to be, then you are missing a weapon for personal protection… Take one,” he said gruffly while looking everywhere but at her.

Looking over the items he made available, she sifted through and picked up a gnomish contraption that shot darts from the sleeve and a faintly magical dagger.

He was surprised by her modesty but it did little to quell his suspicion. To his thinking, if she held so little greed, there must be a reason for it. A sudden thought dawned on him that made him look at her in a way that made the woman uneasy.

While organizing and acquainting himself with his new possessions, the deep elf said with a superior look, “Are you my servant?”

Her face twisted into a mask of barely checked rage. “Listen up, numb nuts. You ever ask me a question like that again and I’ll show you just how much of a ‘servant’ I am. If you can keep a civil tongue in that mouth of yours, I’ll help you as much as I can but you don’t own me.

“How long that help lasts depends on you. If you’re a nice guy, I’ll stick around. You start acting like an arrogant prick, I’m gone the first chance I get.”

The deep elf nearly rolled his eyes. “Put on an act all you want. The truth is, I’m owed service, right? You’re probably not even a real person.”

The woman’s eyes grew large and glassy with barely held tears.

“I’m no less a person than you are,” a bit of a warble entered her voice as she continued, “Here’s a sketch of what I know of this place’s layout and a path beyond it to a road traders pass through. And this world is full of people, just so you know. Basic and cheating but THAT is the ‘service’ you’re OWED.”

The connection between them had far from disappeared but she hadn’t lied. She had bought herself enough leeway to walk away from him and that’s what she did. He dumbly watched her get farther away until she turned down a corridor. The realization crashed down that he was alone again and was certain that she wasn’t going to return.

Still feeling weak and queasy, he was galvanized into action. Within moments, he was caught up to where she was walking carefully around a set of pressure plates in the floor.

“That’s it?” he said to her.

The woman looked at him with dull eyes and said, “No. If you are hurt or in dire need and I fail to help you, the debt between us will strike at my existence until it erases me or it’s used up. But you know what? I’d rather be erased than forced to follow around an a**hole.”

There weren’t many different types of tricks and manipulations that hadn’t been used on the man before at one time or another. She wasn’t bluffing. He’d seen that look on some slave’s face right after they had found a way to end their misery.

He snorted. “A few cross words and you’re ready to go kill yourself. If you’re that WEAK, I doubt you’d be of much use to me anyway.”

As she continued to make her way around the plates, she said in a saccharine voice, “Don’t worry you pretty little head over this weak woman, then. I’m resolved to live as I please until it kills me. Suit yourself.”

Annoyed, he said, “Unless you know something I don’t, it’s not possible to leave this place, just like that. If the dead doppelganger isn’t proof enough, I don’t know what is.”

She replied, “There’s a room not far away with a broken teleport gate in it. I think I can use it… to do something. If your ego is small enough to stuff back into your pants, the device you have on you can make that easier but I’ll be damned if I’m going to beg you to come. I’ll take my chances alone if I have to.”

With a permanent scowling face dangerously close to cracking a smile, the deep elf said, “I don’t believe I’m the one with an ego too large to fit in my undergarments. You’d rather die than clear up some confusion for me.”

The woman turned so fast that she wobbled dangerously close to pushing a lethal pressure plate down. “Oh, there’s no confusion. The very moment you though you might be able, you tried to put me in my place or at least sit on my head. I got three words for you. Oh, hell no.”

Faint amusement fading quickly, the deep elf followed closely behind as he whispered, “There are golems close by. The sound of a voice could activate them… What ill fate was I born under? I faced near certain death to run away from a place where women controlled my life. And now, I have to place my life in the hands of one who’s supposed to listen to my orders but would rather commit suicide first.”

With a mischievous smile, she said, “Fate’s a cruel mistress.”

“Indeed. My name is Deacon,” he said while trying a friendly smile on for size.

He ended up looking like someone had shanked him in the kidney.

“I, uh, I’m Wren,” she said, sounding unsure.

Deacon resisted the urge to sigh and said, “Whenever you’re ready, I’d like to have your real name someday.”

“Well, you see. I just named myself because I’m reborn and wasn’t actually given one,” she said.

He said, “Perhaps you’d let me name you, then. I have-”

Her menacing glare cut his original thought off. “Wren’s a… good name.”

Silence descended between the two. She wanted to defrost things but she had came on so strong, she didn’t know how to back down in a way that wouldn’t get him acting snobby again. On his part, he had ‘compromised’ so much already, it was hard to bend any further.

Soon enough, they had reached their destination and Wren had more important things to worry about than friendly communication. Using the slow and costly mending ability to piece the gate fragments together, she started fatiguing fairly quickly. They had nearly spent an entire day in silence, slowly getting more and more hungry.

“It’s good that you can make water… And that’s appreciated but… can your patron provide sustenance? We’re far from dying but if we’re too weak to defend ourselves… I don’t want to die to some small and avoidable thing after surviving so much,” Deacon whispered.

She replied tiredly, “I’m hungry too but I can spend a day or so piecing together how to do that or finish preparing this gate for travel in a few hours.”

He asked, “What are the most likely of destinations?”

“More of the same, I’m afraid. It’s got to be a real ruin that’s already been trashed, though. Right? Otherwise, this place should have been… I don’t really know for sure. Such an important place, how many can there be and how huge are the chances that its an undiscovered one like this place?” she said.

Thinking it over for minute, Deacon said, “Work on tangible gains first… please.”

Mildly depressed, she sat down to meditate and piece together a working model for creating the edible paste a body recognized as food but the tongue protested most assuredly was not. Among the possible personality flaws that Deacon might possess, impatience wasn’t one of them. It was a tedious day’s worth of doing nothing but he didn’t let out the slightest of protests or encouragements.

The moment she had produced a large handful of the paste, they ate it with grim determination. There wasn’t much of a sense of accomplishment that should accompany such a relief but it was so lacking in enjoyment that there was nothing BUT the relief left in the act. Aside from imminent starvation being avoided, there was a concern that Wren addressed whether it made Deacon’s approval or not.

Slipping off to a dark corner on the safer side of the room, she summoned some water and scrubbed herself down before wicking the water away. It was surprisingly effective and the results were better than the degree shift version in her memories. Feeling refreshed, she redressed and donned the over robe that rested in her seat of consciousness.

Rejoining Deacon, she noticed a loose and weird smile on the deep elf’s face. “What has you so happy all of a sudden?”