The Archmage: Chapter Thirty-Three

After Seth appeared outside of the room, Osheen, Oracle, Bridgette, Tara, and I headed back in to clean up, making ample use of solvent potions to scrub away at the extra chalked in lines, dried bits of blood, and soot from burned components. Once we were finally finished, it was nearly midnight, and Osheen and I collapsed into bed. 

That Sunday, I looked over the three spells that Oberon had given me, as well as the crystal. That had been waiting for me on the dining room table back at home, along with a scrap of paper that simply had the letter O on it.

The spells were complex, using change to touch upon several other concepts and weave them into a veil designed to hide aura, as well as specific parts of the aura, from all senses, magical, mundane, conceptual, or otherwise. 

And when I said they were complex, I meant it. Each one interlocked with the other two, and then all of them contained what was arguably a fourth spell within themselves. The array took a lot of power, sure, but that was honestly a secondary concern to me, since I had no idea how I’d even cast it to begin with. 

Casting even one of the three would have been a strain for my current skills, and I would have needed to carefully study the diagram the entire time, molding my aura to match, and constantly cross referencing. And that was with all the work I’d been doing with Osheen to work on my Aura manipulation and Aura density!

Casting all three of them would be infinitely beyond me… If it would even be worth it. I was confident it would let me hide from divination spells and senses, but… against archmage’s sight, I wasn’t sure how it would fare. Arch-stars were powerful, but faerie magic tended to bend and break the rules of human magic. 

Oberon wouldn’t have given something useless to me, of course, but that still didn’t mean it was inherently useful to my specific situation. 

“Why not make it into an enchantment?” Osheen asked when I groused at him. 

“It requires actively changing on the fly in order to adjust for the stimuli it’s receiving,” I said with an annoyed sigh. “I’m good, but I’m not that good yet…”

“Then make a teacher spell,” he said. 

“A what?” I asked. 

“I’ve told you about them, I’m almost certain of it. We used some staves and wands and such as kids to train our auras into matching the patterns of specific spells. It doesn’t help build density of course, but to learn a specific spell, it can be really useful,” he said, popping a grape from Durtare into his mouth. 

I frowned and added that to my mental checklist. I was pretty sure he had told me about them, though I couldn’t remember when, and I was once again glad to have such a smart boyfriend. 

With that concern shelved – at least temporarily – I turned my attention to the crystal. 

The magic it used was also quite complex. I’d learned a fair bit about veils, but this seemed to create a glamor, then use it to rewrite the identity of the person who was under the glamor. A speck of blood and aura got the process started, and the little crystal sphere formed a three dimensional model of me within it, with my two auras lit around me.

I couldn’t actually make any changes yet, but based on my knowledge of change magic and faerie magic in general, I thought most of the changes that I could make would be cosmetic. If I used the artifact to give myself huge, bodybuilder-esque muscles, it wouldn’t grow me muscles. Instead, it would just alter my body and thin my muscles out, leaving me with large muscles that were no stronger than before.

That might be fine for a faerie, but I was pretty sure that would kill a human. 

With a sigh, I started writing out a letter to Emilia. I wasn’t sure I’d even get use out of this thing, but I’d paid good money – or good life force, I suppose – for the spell, so I’d make sure that if I had to use it to its fullest. 

Luckily, I had a month to talk with her, at the very least, before I had to start making such changes. 

I took a break for the rest of the day once I finished up our first chat, spending the time with Osheen and having a lovely tuna sandwich with a salad. I’d not had tuna in a very long time, but Osheen was craving it that day, so I decided that I’d be happy to try it as well. 

The following day, though, was exciting for an entirely new reason. As I walked into the enchanting classroom, I got to write an entirely new word on the board: Artifacts.

“Artifacts?” Isadora asked. “I thought you were joking.” 

“I’m completely serious,” I said. “I made one during my first year. Admittedly, I over-reached my skills, but that wasn’t the artifact’s fault.” 

“But… Why?” Willow asked, and I smiled at her, giving her a nod. 

“A reasonable question, so before I answer that, I have a question for all of you. What exactly is an artifact?” 

“A recharging magical item?” Isadora asked. 

“True enough, why do they recharge? And what types are there?” I asked. 

“They recharge because of your aura in them?” one of the students suggested, and I made a so-so gesture with my hands. 

“That’s true, but how?” 

“The power stored in the crystal,” Isadora said, sounding bored. “It’s one of the benefits of getting a good familiar – with higher grade crystals, you can select their magic.”

“Their recharge, not their magic,” I corrected gently. “And that is true, in a sense. The crystal is consumed to create a reserve of power that can be restored. But that’s not the only way to create an artifact. I’d argue that it’s actually not even the best way. It has advantages – you only need to place the anchor onto the item – but it’s not how most of my items are built.” 

“What other way is there?” Willow asked. 

“If you’re willing to physically inscribe the enchantment, as well as certain storage containers for aura, into the item, you can create an enchantment without the need for costly crystals,” I said. 

Isadora sat bolt up. 

“Professor, that method is inferior in every way to the crystal method. It causes severe artifact degradation, they break far faster. It nearly quintuples the odds of a spell going awry in the casting, and that’s not even the worst of it.” 

I wondered if her family owned some of the mines or saturation pools that were used to grow aura crystals. 

“That’s not true,” I said. “It causes less degradation – why do you think enchanted tattoos can’t just be slapped on using the universal anchor? It’s far less stressful on the item. It does take more time, I’ll admit that, since you have to have the spell copied out twice – once inscribed onto the item, and once laid out for the array.” 

“I notice you don’t contest that it’s likely to make you miscast,” she sniffed, and I smiled and nodded, a bit irked. I didn’t want to humiliate a student, especially since there were even odds that she was just indoctrinated into thinking that what she’d said was true, rather than actively lying in order to keep the status quo. 

“I don’t know if that statistic was measured well, but I’ll admit that it’s certainly more likely to fail. Do you know why?” I asked, leaning forwards and staring at her. 

She stared back and put her hands on her hips. 

“It’s an inferior method.” 

“No,” I said. “It’s a larger method. If you have to chant out a four hundred-line long spell as opposed to a hundred-line long spell, of course it’s more likely to fail. That’s not a fault of the spell, though, it’s an issue with the skill of the caster.” 

“No!” Isadora said sharply. “I heard directly from Archmage Heenling that it was a worse method. You may be good, but you’re not an archmage. I’ll trust his words over yours, professor.” 

She said the last word with such vitriol that it was clear that she used it as an insult, not an honorific. 

I raised an eyebrow before slowly nodding. 

“I’ve no doubt that when it comes to wards, Chris is a far better mage than I am. But enchanting is a side job for him.” 

“You really believe it,” Willow said softly, but her voice carried through the room. The students turned to look at her and she flushed. 

“I do,” I said, drawing their attention back to me. “I couldn’t come within a mile of Chris’ ability when it comes to wards, but I feel confident that I could outperform him when it comes to enchantments.” 

I allowed a smirk to spread across my face, and to my surprise, it was easy. Easier than it should have been, and I didn’t think I liked that. I debated my next words for a long moment, then said it anyways. 

“When I was a novice, I defeated his son in a duel using burners, while his son was crafting foci. The next year, I won my tournament, placing top three with my husband and friend. He didn’t.” 

“That was his son, maybe his son is just less talented,” Isadora argued. 

“Oh certainly. But last year, during a display, George and I had a spar where he used an emergency artifact from his father.” 

I put my hands on the desk and leaned forwards, staring at Isadora. 

“Four seconds,” I said. “It took me four seconds to break a high level artifact from Chris Heenling himself. Later that year, I used those same spells and a sword – which was also designed using the method I was speaking of – to defeat a Spring Queen in a duel.” 

Isadora was getting angry, but rather than say anything, she rose to her feet and stalked out of the classroom. I leaned back and sighed, suddenly tired. Winning an argument with a child wasn’t a win. It shouldn’t have let my emotions get the better of me there.” 

I shook my head and turned back to the class, only to see Willow looking at me strangely. 

“Did you really beat a Faerie Queen?” she asked. “Aren’t those archmage level?” 

“He did,” one student who was also in my witchcraft class, but who hadn’t left much of an impression on me, said. “My Uncle Seth saw him. After he beat her, the Faerie Queen killed herself.” 

I glanced at the student, then shrugged. I didn’t know that Seth had a nephew in my classes. 

Was that why he’d been so happy to help me set up the portals? Then again, I’d mistaken him for a merchant’s kid, since he was well dressed but lacked the ostentatiousness of the nobility, and already had a familiar, so it couldn’t be. It did explain how the kid had a pixie already, though. 

I put that aside for the moment to clarify I wasn’t some sort of crazed killer for sport. 

“I can’t say I’m proud or happy with how she reacted. I would have just been happy to have my husband un-kidnapped. She didn’t need to do that, and I regret the loss of life.” 

“She kidnapped your husband?!” Willow asked, eyes wide. 

I let out a long sigh. This was going to be a long day, I could already feel it.