To Destroy a Mage

Basttias’s strike forced Ashtin to twist around to keep his balance. He stumbled backwards, out of Basttias’s reach. Basttias was slow to follow, being wary of slipping in the pool of blood or tripping over Ashtin’s arm. To buy time for his arm to regrow, Ashtin retreated to the far side of the room, and his staff erected shields in front of Basttias. By the time Ashtin thought to cast a healing spell, his wound had already closed.

The shields proved ineffective against Basttias’s might, and he tore them to shreds with his glowing hand, but when he tried to reenter the room, Dr. Shreburn blocked his path.

“Out of the way,” Basttias ordered. “I’m here only for Ashtin, but I will hurt you if I have to.”

“Stand down,” Dr. Shreburn responded. “We’re on an important mission from the council. Whatever your quarrel with him, it can wait until we are finished.”

“The council sent me here.” Basttias placed a finger to his temple. Explaining further might give Ashtin enough time to gather power for a teleportation, so he cast a spell to levitate the doctor and move her aside. It had no effect on her. “A spellbreaker? I apologize for what I’m about to do.” He had experience fighting spellbreakers. Although he couldn’t hit them with spells directly, he could hit them with the effects of spells. Reaching behind himself, he sunk his fingers into the stone wall, ripped out a chunk, and sent it flying toward her.

The stone bounced off a magical shield erected by Ashtin’s staff. It had cast the spell not to protect Ashtin, but to protect his protector. For the first time, Basttias considered the possibility he would not win. As long as the staff remained behind Dr. Shreburn, it would be difficult to target. He had faced a mage and spellbreaker simultaneously only once before, and it had been a tough fight. He had only succeeded by tackling the spellbreaker to the ground, but that had only worked because the spellbreaker was small and frail. Dr. Shreburn, on the other hand, was fit and muscular, and she had combat experience to boot.

Bending down, Basttias touched his hands to the stone floor and pushed forward, breaking it up. He ran forward tearing the ground in front of him as he went. Dr. Shreburn would have to back up or lose her footing. But Basttias was forced to stop short as Dr. Shreburn reached behind her, grabbed Ashtin’s staff, and swung its pointed base at Basttias’s head. This caught both Basttias and Dr. Shreburn by surprise. Never once had Ashtin’s staff allowed itself to be grabbed by anyone unless Ashtin handed it to them.

A scream of pain punctuated their battle, and both looked at Ashtin to find him writhing on the floor, his arm beginning to regrow. Although Ashtin had been doing his best to stop it, he couldn’t control his regeneration magic. Only the most dangerously talented mages could hope to control magics so fundamentally tied to their existence. Flesh was now growing over his new bones, and the pain it caused was more intense than the pain of attempting to grow a tail. This process was even more agonizing

than when his arm had regrown as a child, as the arm was growing faster.

“Out of the way!” Basttias shouted. “You’re only making this more painful for him.”

Dr. Shreburn turned back toward Basttias and pointed the tip of the staff at him. Golden chains shot out and encircled Basttias. With his hands pinned to his sides, it was harder for him to cast spells, but he was determined. He began channeling magical energy through his whole body, but before he could complete a single spell, the spear’s wings folded upward, forming a spear point, and Dr. Shreburn thrust it at Basttias’s neck.

“Stop,” Ashtin cried out. “Hold, both of you.” He tried to push himself up off the ground, but his arm was still regrowing, and he doubled over, succumbing to the pain. “Don’t hurt… each other,” he managed to gasp before he once again descended into inarticulate grunts. Dr. Shreburn kept the spear tip mere centimeters from Basttias’s neck, and the two of them waited to see what would become of Ashtin. After several minutes, Ashtin’s breathing stabilized, and he pointed his right index finger at his left shoulder, hoping to heal himself and prevent the scarring that occurred the first time he had regenerated his arm.

“Ashtin,” Basttias said, “please, make this easier on both of us. I have a warrant for your death.”

“Even if you do,” Dr. Shreburn said, “we’ve confirmed that mass hypnosis is being used to control people, and even gynoids may—”

“Let me see it,” Ashtin interrupted. “Hypnosis or not, if the council has ordered my death, it means that Mom is no longer protecting me.”

Dr. Shreburn loosened the chains around Basttias, allowing him to retrieve the warrant from his inner breast pocket. He unfolded it, examining it himself, desperate to find it was a forgery. Ashtin did not appear to have gone mad, but the seal on the warrant was legitimate. He held it out for Ashtin to see.

“It’s blank.” Ashtin turned to Dr. Shreburn. “Stab him.”

Basttias did not resist as Dr. Shreburn jammed the head of the spear into his calf. His eyes watered in pain, but he kept them open to observe the warrant. Sure enough, the name and seal on the paper disappeared. He’d been hypnotized.

Immediately, he felt a wave of relief that he wouldn't have to kill Ashtin, but it was quickly replaced by fear. He was a powerful mage who kept many wards against hypnosis cast on himself at all times, and he’d been hypnotized.

Was it easy? he asked the voice in his head. Did my wards mean anything to you?

But no answer came, and Basttias realized that, at some point after entering the underground labyrinth, the voice had stopped taunting him. Perhaps the nature of this place blocked him out, or perhaps it was his proximity to the spellbreaker. It could be a trick, but Basttias decided he had to risk that it wasn’t.

“Ashtin,” he said, “get me a pen.”

Obediently, Ashtin summoned a pen and walked forward, handing it to Basttias. He walked unsteadily, his left side still reeling from the pain. He knelt to heal Basttias’s wound, but Basttias brushed his hand away.

“That can wait.” Basttias waved him away. “I have something important to show you. You would have learned this in a few months anyway, but you need it now.” He dropped to his hands and knees and drew a circle on the piece of paper. Inside the circle, he drew an infinity symbol, completing the Council of Humankind’s logo. “There is a room in every guild building, sometimes more than one, with this symbol carved into the floor. Channel your magical energy from the center outwards, and it will imbue anything in the circle with you with your magical energy.”

He hesitated before continuing. “Run your magical energy in the opposite way, from the outside, and it will remove the magical energy from anything within the circle, mages included. This is how the council defeated the rogue mages of Earth. Using this technique, any mage, no matter how weak, can destroy any other mage, no matter how strong, but you have to catch them by surprise.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Ashtin asked.

“We’re fighting against our fellow mages, you and I. Should we fail, it could doom this entire planet. The pattern is simple enough that you should be able to carve it into the floor if necessary.”

“I don’t have any spells capable of that,” Ashtin said. “Come with us. We were just saying we needed another person or two.”

“I have my own mission to fulfill,” Basttias told him. “Besides, I’ve already been compromised once. They wouldn’t have hypnotized me if they could have gotten to you directly. I don’t know why, but you have to take advantage of that. If you truly need to recruit another, make it a spellbreaker you can trust.”

⁂

Two days prior, General Winmore emerged from the labyrinth in the basement of the City Guard headquarters. Having decided his best chance for protection lay with the guard, he was determined to rally them in opposition to the council. He walked quickly to the express elevator and rode it to the top floor. One of the colonels spotted him outside his office.

"General," he hissed as he followed him into the office, "the council is after you."

“I know,” General Winmore grunted. “Prepare to lock the building down. We’re going to fight this.”

“No.” The colonel pulled his pistol on the general. “They promised me your position if I hand you over to them. They want you alive, but they’ll take you dead, so which will it be, general?”