“Only twelve gold pieces good sir, a bargain!” Said the weaselly looking stall worker.
I never pass up a chance to look for rare or unusual spell components whenever I come across a bazaar. What does bother me though, is that every stall worker from the High Forest to the Great Sea always tried passing off junk as if it were imbued with powerful magic. I may be young for a wizard, but I am no fool.
“What could possibly convince me to pay twelve gold pieces for a enchanted mirror? Let me guess, it will tell me who is the fairest of them all?” I said with a sneer.
“Not at all good sir! This mirror has powerful magic, cast by a powerful wizard. It is said that only a wizard with enough power can survive using it.”
“Yes, yes, I’m sure the famous Jaraon himself enchanted your mirror. What does it do?” I demanded impatiently.
“See the engraving around the rim?” He pointed out, “I’m told it instructs you on how to see that which is the greatest danger to you.”
With my hand hovering less than an inch above the surface of the mirror, I cast the simple spell that would reveal whether or not this mirror was really enchanted. A faint glow appeared around the mirror, I could feel a rather strong vibration in the tips of my fingers. This mirror did indeed possess a rather strong enchantment.
“I’ll give you five and a half gold pieces.” I said firmly.
The stall worker smiled, and we got down to the one form of business that surpasses all language barriers: bargaining.
We eventually settled on eight gold pieces, and a handful of spell components that were not common in this part of the world. As soon as I got home, I locked myself in my laboratory, and begun the tedious work of translating the arcane script around the rim of the mirror.
After more than a day, I finally had the inscription translated. It was not instructions per say. It was a spell. One of the most complex incantations I have ever come across.
The sound of the clock in the front room telling me that it was three in the morning reminded me of how tired I was.
It took me a week to prepare to cast the spell that would activate the mirror. I had to gather strange spell components, some of which cost a small fortune. Then I had to commit the words of the spell to memory.
When the proper night arrived, I had everything ready. The proper warding spell was cast, to keep errant energies from interrupting my spell. The circle was drawn on the floor with salt. I was committed. Nothing could cross that line until the spell was completed or there would be drastic consequences. On the stroke of midnight, with the proper incense smoking, and the right candles burning, I started casting the spell.
“Ut a elit quam, fermentum convallis velit.” I chanted as I tossed black rose petals and sulfur into the fire. “Vivamus eget sem condimentum magna euismod dapibus eu non neque.” A raven feather went into the fire. “Nullam at tortor odio.” With my dagger, I made an inch long slice on the back of my left hand. “Vestibulum et purus sed justo convallis tincidunt.” A spoon full of blood was collected and held over the flame. “Suspendisse molestie vulputate neque, non sagittis ligula mattis eu. Proin mollis bibendum lorem id convallis.” The blood was poured onto the mirror, linking it to myself.
Grabbing the mirror by the handles on each side. I looked down into its black depths, and whispered, “Show me!”
A pounding at my door caused me to jerk my head up, disrupting the spell.
“Fist of the gods!” I snarled as I stormed over and threw the door open. “What in the abyss do you want?”
“Sorry to bother you Wizard Rallak.” The nervous youth said apologetically.
“Never mind. It’s too late to do anything about it. What did you need?” I asked.
"I-it’s my sister, Wizard. Sh-she wont wake up, and she feels on fire.” The youth stammered.
Another villager comes down with the sickness and they think the Gods have abandoned them. I gathered some common healing herbs into a satchel, and gave them to the kid along with instructions on how to use them.
Once the youth left, I collapsed on my bed, and shouted in frustration. A week of my time, and a small fortune wasted. It would cost small fortune to gather the needed components, and take another week until conditions were favorable to try casting the spell again.
As I went from shop to shop, I couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was watching me, but every time I looked around, there was no one there. This shop was my last hope.
“What can I help you find, Magus?” The shopkeeper asked as I entered her shop.
“Do you have dragons blood?” I asked in a whisper.
“Mm. Dragons blood. Very powerful, very rare.” She said as she stared into my eyes.
“Yes, yes, do you have any?” I demanded.
“Very expensive. Ten gold pieces a vial. You can pay hmm?”
It was too late to try bargaining. I had made the mistake of appearing desperate. I slammed the gold on the counter.
A withered hand shot out of her robe, the gold disappeared, and a small glass vial appeared in its place. Finally. The last component needed to cast the spell. Tonight, I would learn who was dangerous to me. As I left the shop, a decrepit old man, dressed like a beggar, grabbed my staff, right above my hand.
“Beware the mirror young wizard. Destroy it. It will only harm, it can not help.” He said, before disappearing into the crowd.
“Crazy. Must have been driven mad.” I said to myself as I headed home.
This time, I cast wards all around my house. No one would be allowed to disturb me this time. Layered like an onion. The outer shields would keep regular people and animals away. Each successive layer was more powerful than the last. In the end, it would take a powerful wizard to disturb my spell casting.
When the proper night arrived, I had everything ready. The proper warding spell was cast, to keep errant energies from interrupting my spell. The circle was drawn on the floor with salt. I was committed. Nothing could cross that line until the spell was completed or there would be drastic consequences.
On the stroke of midnight, with the proper incense smoking, and the right candles burning, I started casting the spell.
“Ut a elit quam, fermentum convallis velit.” I chanted as I tossed black rose petals and sulfur into the fire. “Vivamus eget sem condimentum magna euismod dapibus eu non neque.” A raven feather went into the fire. “Nullam at tortor odio.” With my dagger, I made an inch long slice on the back of my left hand. “Vestibulum et purus sed justo convallis tincidunt.” A spoon full of blood was collected and held over the flame.
Thump!
I tried ignoring it.
“Suspendisse molestie vulputate neque,”
Thump!
“Non sagittis ligula mattis eu. Proin mollis bibendum lorem id convallis.” The blood was poured onto the mirror, linking it to myself.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a coin fall off of a bookshelf. By the time I saw it rolling across the floor, it was too late to do anything but shriek. The concussion of forces was powerful enough to leave me unconscious for the next two days.
It took me two more weeks to gather the components needed to try casting the spell one more time. I had to sell a large quantity of my spell components, not to mention brewing a number of potions for the villagers in order to earn enough gold to purchase the components again.
I cast the wards around my house, again. This time, I even removed everything from my laboratory that wasn’t absolutely necessary in casting the spell. Nothing would be allowed to interrupt my casting!
When the proper night arrived, I had everything ready. The proper warding spell was cast, to keep errant energies from interrupting my spell. The circle was drawn on the floor with salt. I was committed. Nothing could cross that line until the spell was completed or there would be drastic consequences. On the stroke of midnight, with the proper incense smoking, and the right candles burning, I started casting the spell.
“Ut a elit quam, fermentum convallis velit.” I chanted as I tossed black rose petals and sulfur into the fire. “Vivamus eget sem condimentum magna euismod dapibus eu non neque.” A raven feather went into the fire. “Nullam at tortor odio.” With my dagger, I made an inch long slice on the back of my left hand. “Vestibulum et purus sed justo convallis tincidunt.” A spoon full of blood was collected and held over the flame.
“Suspendisse molestie vulputate neque, non sagittis ligula mattis eu. Proin mollis bibendum lorem id convallis.” The blood was poured onto the mirror, linking it to myself. Grabbing the mirror by the handles on each side. I looked down into its black depths, and whispered, “Show me!”
“NO!!!!!!!!!!!!” I shrieked.
In a rage, I flung the mirror at the wall as hard as I could.
There, still visible in the scattered shards of the mirror was my worst enemy: Myself!
An old story I wrote for a competition on a rpg forum.
I never pass up a chance to look for rare or unusual spell components whenever I come across a bazaar. What does bother me though, is that every stall worker from the High Forest to the Great Sea always tried passing off junk as if it were imbued with powerful magic. I may be young for a wizard, but I am no fool.
“What could possibly convince me to pay twelve gold pieces for a enchanted mirror? Let me guess, it will tell me who is the fairest of them all?” I said with a sneer.
“Not at all good sir! This mirror has powerful magic, cast by a powerful wizard. It is said that only a wizard with enough power can survive using it.”
“Yes, yes, I’m sure the famous Jaraon himself enchanted your mirror. What does it do?” I demanded impatiently.
“See the engraving around the rim?” He pointed out, “I’m told it instructs you on how to see that which is the greatest danger to you.”
With my hand hovering less than an inch above the surface of the mirror, I cast the simple spell that would reveal whether or not this mirror was really enchanted. A faint glow appeared around the mirror, I could feel a rather strong vibration in the tips of my fingers. This mirror did indeed possess a rather strong enchantment.
“I’ll give you five and a half gold pieces.” I said firmly.
The stall worker smiled, and we got down to the one form of business that surpasses all language barriers: bargaining.
We eventually settled on eight gold pieces, and a handful of spell components that were not common in this part of the world. As soon as I got home, I locked myself in my laboratory, and begun the tedious work of translating the arcane script around the rim of the mirror.
After more than a day, I finally had the inscription translated. It was not instructions per say. It was a spell. One of the most complex incantations I have ever come across.
The sound of the clock in the front room telling me that it was three in the morning reminded me of how tired I was.
It took me a week to prepare to cast the spell that would activate the mirror. I had to gather strange spell components, some of which cost a small fortune. Then I had to commit the words of the spell to memory.
When the proper night arrived, I had everything ready. The proper warding spell was cast, to keep errant energies from interrupting my spell. The circle was drawn on the floor with salt. I was committed. Nothing could cross that line until the spell was completed or there would be drastic consequences. On the stroke of midnight, with the proper incense smoking, and the right candles burning, I started casting the spell.
“Ut a elit quam, fermentum convallis velit.” I chanted as I tossed black rose petals and sulfur into the fire. “Vivamus eget sem condimentum magna euismod dapibus eu non neque.” A raven feather went into the fire. “Nullam at tortor odio.” With my dagger, I made an inch long slice on the back of my left hand. “Vestibulum et purus sed justo convallis tincidunt.” A spoon full of blood was collected and held over the flame. “Suspendisse molestie vulputate neque, non sagittis ligula mattis eu. Proin mollis bibendum lorem id convallis.” The blood was poured onto the mirror, linking it to myself.
Grabbing the mirror by the handles on each side. I looked down into its black depths, and whispered, “Show me!”
A pounding at my door caused me to jerk my head up, disrupting the spell.
“Fist of the gods!” I snarled as I stormed over and threw the door open. “What in the abyss do you want?”
“Sorry to bother you Wizard Rallak.” The nervous youth said apologetically.
“Never mind. It’s too late to do anything about it. What did you need?” I asked.
"I-it’s my sister, Wizard. Sh-she wont wake up, and she feels on fire.” The youth stammered.
Another villager comes down with the sickness and they think the Gods have abandoned them. I gathered some common healing herbs into a satchel, and gave them to the kid along with instructions on how to use them.
Once the youth left, I collapsed on my bed, and shouted in frustration. A week of my time, and a small fortune wasted. It would cost small fortune to gather the needed components, and take another week until conditions were favorable to try casting the spell again.
As I went from shop to shop, I couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was watching me, but every time I looked around, there was no one there. This shop was my last hope.
“What can I help you find, Magus?” The shopkeeper asked as I entered her shop.
“Do you have dragons blood?” I asked in a whisper.
“Mm. Dragons blood. Very powerful, very rare.” She said as she stared into my eyes.
“Yes, yes, do you have any?” I demanded.
“Very expensive. Ten gold pieces a vial. You can pay hmm?”
It was too late to try bargaining. I had made the mistake of appearing desperate. I slammed the gold on the counter.
A withered hand shot out of her robe, the gold disappeared, and a small glass vial appeared in its place. Finally. The last component needed to cast the spell. Tonight, I would learn who was dangerous to me. As I left the shop, a decrepit old man, dressed like a beggar, grabbed my staff, right above my hand.
“Beware the mirror young wizard. Destroy it. It will only harm, it can not help.” He said, before disappearing into the crowd.
“Crazy. Must have been driven mad.” I said to myself as I headed home.
This time, I cast wards all around my house. No one would be allowed to disturb me this time. Layered like an onion. The outer shields would keep regular people and animals away. Each successive layer was more powerful than the last. In the end, it would take a powerful wizard to disturb my spell casting.
When the proper night arrived, I had everything ready. The proper warding spell was cast, to keep errant energies from interrupting my spell. The circle was drawn on the floor with salt. I was committed. Nothing could cross that line until the spell was completed or there would be drastic consequences.
On the stroke of midnight, with the proper incense smoking, and the right candles burning, I started casting the spell.
“Ut a elit quam, fermentum convallis velit.” I chanted as I tossed black rose petals and sulfur into the fire. “Vivamus eget sem condimentum magna euismod dapibus eu non neque.” A raven feather went into the fire. “Nullam at tortor odio.” With my dagger, I made an inch long slice on the back of my left hand. “Vestibulum et purus sed justo convallis tincidunt.” A spoon full of blood was collected and held over the flame.
Thump!
I tried ignoring it.
“Suspendisse molestie vulputate neque,”
Thump!
“Non sagittis ligula mattis eu. Proin mollis bibendum lorem id convallis.” The blood was poured onto the mirror, linking it to myself.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a coin fall off of a bookshelf. By the time I saw it rolling across the floor, it was too late to do anything but shriek. The concussion of forces was powerful enough to leave me unconscious for the next two days.
It took me two more weeks to gather the components needed to try casting the spell one more time. I had to sell a large quantity of my spell components, not to mention brewing a number of potions for the villagers in order to earn enough gold to purchase the components again.
I cast the wards around my house, again. This time, I even removed everything from my laboratory that wasn’t absolutely necessary in casting the spell. Nothing would be allowed to interrupt my casting!
When the proper night arrived, I had everything ready. The proper warding spell was cast, to keep errant energies from interrupting my spell. The circle was drawn on the floor with salt. I was committed. Nothing could cross that line until the spell was completed or there would be drastic consequences. On the stroke of midnight, with the proper incense smoking, and the right candles burning, I started casting the spell.
“Ut a elit quam, fermentum convallis velit.” I chanted as I tossed black rose petals and sulfur into the fire. “Vivamus eget sem condimentum magna euismod dapibus eu non neque.” A raven feather went into the fire. “Nullam at tortor odio.” With my dagger, I made an inch long slice on the back of my left hand. “Vestibulum et purus sed justo convallis tincidunt.” A spoon full of blood was collected and held over the flame.
“Suspendisse molestie vulputate neque, non sagittis ligula mattis eu. Proin mollis bibendum lorem id convallis.” The blood was poured onto the mirror, linking it to myself. Grabbing the mirror by the handles on each side. I looked down into its black depths, and whispered, “Show me!”
“NO!!!!!!!!!!!!” I shrieked.
In a rage, I flung the mirror at the wall as hard as I could.
There, still visible in the scattered shards of the mirror was my worst enemy: Myself!
An old story I wrote for a competition on a rpg forum.
