Class notes on magic

Randall Tendbone's notes from MAG101 class "Basics of Magic," taught by Professor Maslin Markwood at the University of Ursia.

Year of class: 1991 A.A.

Two Types of Magic
Magic is powered from one source, the soul or souls of living beings. That being said, magic is then broken up into two types.

High magics are magical powers or spells derived from one's own soul. A wizard, or magical creature or item, draws upon its own soul energy to perform magics. Today this is the most common type of magic. Nearly all mages uses high magics, as do most magical beasts.

Low magics are just the opposite. Low magics are spells or effects that draw upon the soul or souls of other living creatures outside of the spellcaster. Low magics are not common today, though they were at one time in history, and are generally considered evil.

The distinction between the two types of magic seems nonexistant to the noninitiated, but in fact it is quite distinctive and has had huge impacts upon the history, religions and societies of the Ursian world.

Two types of wizards
Traditional wizards are the most common, and have been throughout recorded history. This type of mage learns his craft from someone else, in modern times often from a professor at a university, but sometimes spells and knowledge are passed down through family ties or from one singular caster to another. Sometimes a solitary mage has even learned his or her craft on their own, through a codex or scrolls or simply from paying attention to another mage. Theoretically, anyone could be a traditional wizard. The ability to cast spells is not based upon intelligence or wisdom, though creative minds have been shown to be most open to the arcane arts. Strength of will is important, giving a caster more stamina in casting spells, so as not to be too weakened. But all of this is superfluous.
Wizards are not more common than they are for a variety of reasons, most of them being social. Until recent history, the end of the Mages War almost sixty years ago, wizards were outlaws and hunted and executed. Times have changed.

Natural mages are a much rarer breed. Natural mages are born with the innate ability or knowledge to cast magical spells. Natural mages also tend to be much more powerful with their special abilities than traditional mages. Some natural mages have also studied under traditional mages, learning more knowledge and becoming better able to work their spells. An untrained, or unknowledgable, natural mage can be quite a dangerous thing.

The importance of Ashal
To the True Church, and its modern remains in the Eastern and Western churches, the almighty Ashal was a living god who walked among men for roughly 30 years, spreading words of wisdom and performing miracles nearly two thousand years ago.

Educated wizards know better, and have a tradition of their own. Ashal was no god. He was a flesh-and-blood man. He was also the first known natural mage, and he was the first known caster to use high magics. He is traditionally considered to be the first wizard.

There were spellcasters before Ashal, but all would at best be considered traditional wizards by today's standards, having learned their spattering of knowledge from one another and from the ancient tomes of the Zarroc. Also, all of them used low magics. That is why sacrifice was necessary in performing magical rituals, the caster literally drawing the soul and soul power from the sacrifice, and using that soul energy to perform magics.

According to church doctrine, Ashal was a god, and all wizards are evil humans who use only low magics. This simply is not true, but two thousand years of evidence to the contrary has not changed any minds. Unfortunately, the churches have had much more sway politically and socially than the spellcasting classes, thus the general public's opinion of magic and wizards tends to sway toward that of the churches. Today, times are indeed different, but it is a foolish mage who would show himself in Eastern Ursia or even in remote or rural regions of Western Ursia.

The Zarroc
Next to nothing is known about the Zarroc. We know they existed. A few of their structures, possibly ancient temples, still partially stand in the southern deserts. A very few of their ancient writings are rumored to exist, though no wizards or university will admit to having such items. There have even been discovered a few skeletal remains of what might be members of the Zarroc race.

One thing is for sure: The Zarroc were not human. They lived during the time of the great lizards, long before the ages of men, and it is surmised that the Zarroc themselves were a race of bibedal lizard creatures with intelligence and language and a society of their own.

Why they died out, no one knows.

There is no known true history about the Zarroc, but there have been some intelligent guesses about them over the centuries. They apparently were the first intelligent creatures to use magic. Also, supposedly they were great makers of many magical weapons and items. Even the honored Sword of the Elements, the birthright of King Alexandre of Caballerus, is rumored to be one of the Zarroc's great weapons.

No one knows. Even mages who have attempted mighty spells to look back into the time of the Zarroc have discovered nothing. Perhaps the Zarroc shielded themselves from such prying.

Perhaps it is better that way.

The Fallen God, part 15

Cutter grimaced, staring up at his foes. "You can't believe I am going to betray my leader and my country, especially when I know it will mean my immediate death."

"Take me to him," Bayne said. "Point this consul out, then you can be on your way. I promise no harm will come to you as long as you do not interfere."

"This is nonsense," Verkanus spat, raising his hands. "There is an easier way."

"Do not harm him!" Bayne yelled.

"No need," Verkanus said, snapping his fingers again.

A glazed look rolled over Cutter's eyes, and the man went stiff.

"He is in our complete control," Verkanus said. "Now he will lead us to Lucius Cornelius. Give him a command. He will do whatever we wish."

Bayne gritted his teeth. "Kill the wizard."

Cutter grabbed his bow and an arrow.

Verkanus backed up a step. "Drop your weapons!"

The archer did as he had been ordered.

"He is under my command, too." The king spun on the muscular man. "Keep that in mind the next time you try something so foolish."

Bayne grinned. "I had to test him. It worked."

"You will need clothing," Verkanus said. "We can't allow you to walk among the civilized with nothing on. And it's quite noticable you are not human."

Bayne pointed at Cutter. "He has next to nothing on, and I will need him. I can't take his wearings."

"Allow me." Verkanus twirled his hands quickly, then smacked them together.

A simple tunic, leather leggins and a pair of wolfskin boots popped into existence at the wizard's feet.

"You will need a weapon also," Verkanus said.

"I sense not." Bayne stared down at his mighty arms.

"You have yet to test your own abilities," Verkanus said, "and besides, a weapon will make your job easier."

"As you will."

Verkanus clapped his hands together again and a dark sword appeared sticking out of the sand in front of Bayne.

The big man pulled the blade from the white grit and stared at its edge. "Iron? Not steel?"

"It is the best I could do under the circumstances," Verkanus said. "I tried for steel, but apparently my kingdom's stores have been looted by the Trodans. It should be of little consequence."

"Iron is useless." Bayne pulled back an arm as if to toss away the weapon.

"Iron is common, as is bronze," Verkanus pointed out. "I don't know about wherever you came from, but only the rich have steel here, and my resources are depleted. Your sword will do."

Bayne hefted the weapon. "I suppose it would not hurt to keep it."

"Good, that's settled," Verkanus said. "Now put on your clothes. It's unsettling to see you like that. And we need to be going."

The Fallen God, part 14

Verkanus pushed himself to standing, dusting the sand from his robes.

Cutter flipped his dagger around, pointing it at the king, then back at the big man with all the muscles.

"We've had enough of that." Verkanus snapped his fingers.

The knife went flying from Cutter's hands, bounding over a dune to disappear.

Verkanus turned on Bayne. "If you wish my help, you had best do a better job at keeping me alive."

"I never asked for your help."

"You need me," Verkanus said. "I'm the one who summoned you. I'm the one you deal with."

Cutter collapsed back in the sand, but a grin slid across his lips. "Can't control your own demon, Verkanus?"

The wizard king flashed a look of hate upon the wounded man.

"I am no demon," Bayne said.

"You're not a man!" Verkanus roared.

"Perhaps not," Bayne said, "but I will discover the truth."

"Which is why you need me," Verkanus said. "If you won't believe you are a demon, then I am the one who can help you find your true identity."

"That's your bargain, then?" Cutter asked, nodding at Bayne. "You kill for him, and he tells you who you really are?"

"Shut up!" Verkanus screamed at the Trodan. "Bayne is my concern, not yours. If you had not interferred with my spell, he would have his memory."

Bayne moved over to Cutter and dropped to a knee. "Tell us where to find this Lucius Cornelius. Then I can discover who I am."

Cutter tried to spit on the kneeling man, but his lips were too dry and his tongue clogged with grit.

"He won't tell you anything willingly," Verkanus said.

"If he does not talk soon, he will die."

"I can make him talk."

"No," Bayne said. "Torturing a man will not work. He will tell you anything to end the pain."

"What will you have me do?" Verkanus asked. "I could use magic to find the consul, but I have never seen him and have no idea where he might be located. It could take me days to discover his whereabouts."

Bayne pointed at Cutter. "Heal his wounds."

"That's insane," Verkanus said. "He has already tried to kill me twice."

"Four times," Cutter corrected, his grin still strong.

"Heal him," Bayne said. "We cannot allow him to die, which he will do within hours if he is not saved."

"And if I do not?" Verkanus asked.

"Then our bargain is at an end," Bayne said. "You can find someone else to do your killing."

"Perhaps I should," from Verkanus.

"Perhaps you should remember the only thing I know about myself is I was made to kill."

"I wish you two would go ahead and kill me so I don't have to listen to your bickeing," Cutter said.

"Heal him." Bayne pointed at the downed archer.

Verkanus sighed. "Very well, but only enough to keep him alive."

The wizard king stretched out his arms and moved his lips, mumbling silent words.

Cutter grunted and grabbed at his stomach. "By the ancients, it's working."

Bayne watched as the inflamed wound to the Trodan's stomach slowly became smaller and the redness turned to the pink of normal flesh.

"There," Verkanus said. "I will do no more."

Bayne glared at Cutter. "Speak."

"What makes you think I will tell you where my commanding officer is located?" Cutter asked, looking up with brighter eyes. "It would be treason."

"Tell us or I will kill you where you lay," Verkanus said.

Bayne waved off the wizard. "Tell us so I might confront this general of yours. If he is well protected, he should have little to fear from me."

"What if you are a demon?" Cutter asked. "You might tear through his personal guards, perhaps his entire army, and crush him."

"I am no demon."

Cutter looked to Verkanus.

"If I know what Bayne truly is, I'm not telling until he accomplishes my tasks," the king said. "Besides, after what you did to my ritual, he might even be a god, one of the ancients worshipped by our cave-dwelling ancestors or the Zarroc."

"Tell me," Bayne said, his eyes never leaving the Trodan.

The Fallen God, part 13

Verkanus' steed slowed as it trotted a circle around Cutter, the downed man unmoving with the lower half of his body hidden by sand.

"This is the man," the king said, pointing at the prone Trodan.

Cutter looked up to see to whom Verkanus was speaking just as the muscular Bayne jogged into view around a raised stone.

"He will tell us how to find Lucius Cornelius," Verkanus said, pulling his dead ride to a halt and jumping off the beast.

Cutter noted that Verkanus appeared uninjured despite the dried blood still cling to his robes. What was more disturbing was the large, nude man now halting some feet away. This newcomer bore red scars on his legs, raw flesh of burn wounds from the looks, but he showed no sign of pain nor impairment.

Cutter's eyes showed his surprise as he noticed the new man was not a man. There was no male organ at this figure's groin.

"He is nearly dead," Bayne said, watching over the downed man.

"He will live for some while," Verkanus said.

Cutter rolled over on his back, one arm still beneath the sand, gritting at the pain the simple movement caused him. "Perhaps, but I'll never give you information about the consul."

"Torture," from Bayne.

"Be still," Verkanus said, stepping forward. "A more deft touch will benefit us more in this situation."

Cutter shrank as if in fear as the wizard king knelt and reached for him.

"A simple spell should take care of this," Verkanus said, placing his hands on the sides of the Trodan's head.

Cutter's hidden hand sprang up, driving sand into the wizard's face as the bronze knife sank deep in Verkanus' throat.

The wizard fell back, bloud sprouting from the jagged gash to his neck and his arms flailing about.

Cutter twisted to point his knife at the naked, muscled man, but found no threat there.

Bayne did not move, watching Verkanus' throes as if studying an insect.

The wizard rolled away from his attacker, splashing blood in the white of the sands. He came up in a sitting position, grasping at his bleeding throat with one hand while the other flapped at the air, fingers wiggling.

Seconds later, the flow of blood ceased and Verkanus removed his hand from his throat. The wound was gone, but a pink scar remained.

The wizard huffed, his breathing irregular and harsh. "You could have come to my aid," he said, looking to Bayne.

"It was not part of our deal," the big man said.

"We haven't set the conditions of our deal, yet," Verkanus pointed out.

"You asked me to kill, I said I would. You said nothing about helping you. Besides, I figured your magic would save you."

"You don't believe in magic," Verkanus said.

"No, but you do," Bayne said, "and since you are still alive, I suppose there is something to your skills."

Cutter sat there flabbergasted, not sure at whom to point his weapon.

The Fallen God, part 12

The sun did not rise slowly in the desert. One moment the sky was the early morning blue of dark lapus lazuli, then it became the fiery orange of flame. Warm fingers of light spread across the land, reaching between dunes and bones and the occasional dried plant.

It was one of these fingers that woke Cutter.

He had not traveled far, having fallen into unconsciousness in a narrow valley between two outcroppings of orange stone that might have been remnants of an ancient civilization, or they could have just been rock.

His eyes opened slowly, the lashes knocking away white grit that had nearly covered them.

Without moving, Cutter groaned. The wound to his stomach still shot lances of pain through him, and looking down, he could see the hole in his belly had become red with infection. A yellow pus seeped from the wound, mingling with sand on his stomach to dry into a noxious-smelling crust.

He tried to sit up, but found he was too weak. His legs had been covered by sand during the night, and he had not the strength to remove himself from that simple imprisonment.

Cutter sighed and allowed his head to fall back into the sand. He had failed at his task. Sergeant Cuthius Aenius of the Trodan Third Scouts had allowed his quarry to escape. It had been his job, and that of a handful of others, to watch for Verkanus during the battle, and if given a chance, to kill the Pursian king. Cutter had been lucky enough to spot the king, but he had not had the fortune to finish his work.

Now he would die. It would be a slow death, probably taking him the rest of the day, but eventually he would bleed out or the lack of water would cause him to succumb.

He coughed, spitting sand from between his lips. He already felt light in his head. He was already to weak to move. It was only a matter of time.

The clumping noise or horse's hooves on sand made the Trodan archer lift his head.

Riding directly toward him, over a dune not too far away, was a familiar robed figure on a horse of bones.

Cutter grinned. Then he clamped a hand on the bronze knife still next to him.

It wasn't too late. Not yet. Perhaps the gods, or the new god Ashal, were smiling on him.

The Fallen God, part 11

Verkanus laughed. "Perhaps that is not a name you should use."

"I do not accept your associations with it," Bayne said.

Verkanus pointed at his undead riding beast. "Do you see this animal?"

Bayne nodded.

"It has no flesh," Verkanus said. "It is mere bones. Only magic could create such a thing."

"It could be a construct of some sort," Bayne said, "or you are fooling my senses somehow."

Verkanus shook his head.

"Now that I have a name," the larger of the two said, "you should inform me of your own."

"King Verkanus of Pursia."

"A king? A ... ruler?"

"I suspect I am a king no longer," Verkanus said. "My armies were defeated several days ago by my foes. This is why I have summoned you, Bayne Kul Kanon, to revenge my defeat."

Bayne's eyes remained locked on the Pursian royal. He was quiet and unblinking, as if deep in thought.

"Whether you are demon or not, I can bargain with you," Verkanus said. "Despite the intrusion upon my ritual, my spell was quite specific. You are the one who can be of aid to me."

"You wish me to kill?" Bayne asked.

It was Verkanus' turn to nod.

For the first time, the muscular man grinned.

"You enjoy killing?" Verkanus asked.

"I know little about myself," Bayne said, "but I know why I exist. To kill. To kill men."

Verkanus took a step back.

"I will not kill you," Bayne said. "You are my only link to this ... existence. You are my only source of information."

"Are you saying you will help me?"

"Gladly," Bayne said, his smile remaining strong.

Verkanus straightened, smoothing the front of his robes and knocking aside some of the dried blood from his arm as if he were uninjured. "There are two men I wish to see dead."

"Name them."

"The first is the Trodan Consul Lucius Cornelius," Verkanus said. "The second is the Ashalite priest Pedrague."

"Where do we find these men?"

"Pedrague has a home in the city of Brome, many miles from here," Verkanus said, "but I do not know the whereabouts of the consul."

"Consul?"

"A general. A ruler, elected by his people."

"This Pedrague dies first, then," Bayne said.

"Not necessarily," Verkanus said. "Lucius Cornelius was the general who defeated my armies a mere three days' ride from here. He is likely still encamped in the region."

"How do we find him?"

Verkanus grinned and climbed onto the back of his horse. "Follow me. I know of someone who can help us find the general."

The Fallen God, part 10

Verkanus slid from his dead horse's saddle to the white sands revealed by the flickering circle of fire. He approached the other man slowly, as if not sure if this person was friend or foe. "Don't you know who you are?"

"No."

Verkanus stopped several yards from the man. He stared into the bold, unblinking eyes, then the grin of a devil formed on his lips. "I summoned you," he said, pointing back at his steed's path through the desert. "I cast a spell to bring you to me, but I was ... interrupted. The spell brought you here instead. I saw your streak of fire across the sky, and followed it to this place."

A mixture of stoicism and confusion reigned on the other man's face.

"You are a death demon," Verkanus explained.

"Not logical," the other said.

"Why is there no logic in this?" Verkanus asked. "I am a wizard. I summoned a bayne kul kanon, a death demon, and you arrived."

For the first time, the muscled man blinked, and shook his head. "Demons and wizards refer to mythological elements which do not exist."

"How do you know? You do not even know who you are?"

The other nodded. "Agreed."

"Then you must be a death demon," Verkanus said.

"Do you not know?"

"I have never summoned a death demon before now," Verkanus said, "though I have made pacts with war demons."

"Then you believe me to be a demon?"

"Yes."

The big man shook his head again. "This does not make sense. I see myself, my body, and I see man."

"You are no man," Verkanus said with a chuckle. "Your lack of an organ proves it."

The other glanced down at his flat, smooth groin.

"Accept it. You are a bayne kul kanon."

The man looked to Verkanus again. "You used that word before. Is it my name?"

"It is old Zarroc," Verkanus said, "a language older than men. The first wielders of magic, a race called the Zarroc, used it thousands of years before. Bayne kul kanon is their words for death demon."

"I must have a name for reference," the other said. "I will take this bayne kul kanon."