Tailyn shot a quick glance over at Forian and decided to make the change. Once he hit yes, another message popped up:
Current card owner: none.
Current key phrase: “Activate card.”
Would you like to make changes?
After pausing for a second, Tailyn made himself the owner and changed the phrase to Alchemist Tailyn Vlashich, whispering it to the card.
Changes made.
Current card owner: Tailyn Vlashich.
“Don’t you dare forget your phrase,” Forian continued. “If you do, you’ll have to reset the card, and you won’t be able to handle that yourself. Oh, and don’t use them unless you have to. They only have fifty charges, and while you can recharge them, you need a special skill for that. You can get it as an alchemist, only nobody will teach it to you until you’re a student at the academy. You’ll have to be studying in our department, too. Okay, does that all make sense?”
“Yes, Master.” Tailyn repeated the process with the second card before dropping it into his inventory. They were going to be his secret weapons. And even though he didn’t know what he’d ever need them for, just the fact that he had something magic up his sleeve gave him a thrill.
“You have seventy-nine packets of arcane dust in your inventory. What are you planning on doing with them?”
“I’d like to give them to Master Isor,” Tailyn replied with a measure of embarrassment. He hadn’t been expecting that question. “But I can give them to you if—”
“Give them to the god,” Forian said. “Today, go straight to the temple and sacrifice them to it—all of them. If you do, it’ll give you eight thousand gold.”
The boy gasped.
“But you have to be smart about what you do with the gold. As soon as the god gives it to you, ask for its indulgence and four attributes. You need intellect, mysticism, armor, and wisdom. That will cost you four thousand. Spend the rest on clothing. It doesn’t matter what, but you need anything you can find that will boost your magic attack or add extra mana. Where you find it is up to you. Make it yourself for all I care. Got it?”
“Yes, Master.” It was astounding, but Tailyn somehow knew exactly why he needed those attributes. Intellect increased his mana level; mysticism restored his mana; armor was for his shield; wisdom let him use higher-level magic cards. Forian had given him level one cards, which meant there had to be level two and higher ones out there.
“That won’t make you an actual mage, of course, but it’ll open the door to the academy. In a year or two, we’ll be back to see how you’re doing. If you’re still alive, you’ll come with us. Do you have an idea what you’d like to spend your time doing?”
“Yes,” Tailyn replied. He actually had been thinking about that. “I have herbalism and alchemy, so I’ll make a thousand potions to unlock level two.”
“What are you talking about?” Forian replied with a frown. “I’ve never heard of anyone leveling-up by working their fingers to the bone like that.”
“That’s how all my friends do it,” said a surprised Tailyn. “Some are already up to level two; others are still getting there. Of course, they’re not alchemists. They’re herbalists, lumberjacks, masons, farmers. But all of them say you get level two as soon as you collect a thousand units of whatever material you’re supposed to find, and that’s exactly what happens.”
“Oh, that’s what you’re talking about,” Forian chuckled. “Yes, they do. The god gives a task to everyone who’s initiated correctly, aligning it to their class. Your friends apparently all got a task that has them collecting materials. The second mission will be for ten thousand, the third for a hundred thousand, and so on. Don’t forget to ask the god to finish your initiation, and you’ll get a mission like that, too, probably for potions—you’re right. Though it definitely won’t be for a thousand. You don’t have enough mana for that.”
“Master, we’re here.” The curtain was pulled back, and Motar peered into the wagon.
“Finally!” Forian looked over at Tailyn one more time. “Don’t disappoint me. I’ll be back in Culmart a year from now, and I’d like to find you alive. Okay, get out—you’re not going any farther with us. Get to work on yourself.”
Tailyn hopped out and watched the wagon trail off. Everything in him wanted to dash off and tell his friends about his loot and new skills, but he knew all too well that he had more important things that couldn’t wait. Master Forian had told him exactly what to do. And there was no way the boy was going to disappoint him a second time.
It was time to head over to the temple and speak with the god for the first time.
Chapter 4
THE TEMPLE WASN’T far from the central square. It was the biggest, most beautiful building in the city, even the elder’s palace lagging far behind its grace and elegant lines. In fact, every time Tailyn walked by it, he wondered if the city had been built ages before around the existing temple. It looked too unlike the buildings around it.
Tailyn paused by the entrance. He’d never been inside—they said the god didn’t like empty talkers or loafers. You couldn’t get inside just because. Looking around and looking for some kind of support, the boy noticed the wagon. The mages had gotten to the square much faster and were already in a meeting with the elder. That kicked Tailyn into gear, as he remembered Forian’s instructions. He couldn’t disappoint the mage. Sighing deeply and still looking for a source of bravery, he remembered the two cards in his inventory. They were perfect. Pulling them out, he felt much more confident just holding them, almost like he was a real mage. As he gripped them tightly, he stepped firmly up the stairs. Nothing scared him anymore.
“Where are you going?” The guard came to life and held out a hand. The boy replied resolutely.
“I have an offering for the god, and I’d like—”
“No entrance! Come back after the attack,” the guard jumped in, dropping its arm and turning back into a statue. Tailyn froze in confusion. He’d never heard of the god refusing to let someone into the temple, and he wasn’t sure what to do. What attack was he supposed to wait for?
As if in response to the question in the boy’s head, the city’s hustle and bustle was interrupted by a hysterical shriek.
“Lixes!”
It was a simple word, but everything inside Tailyn froze in horror. Once in a while, usually every two or three years, Ringold’s green lixes built up their forces and attacked the border cities. Eleven years before, their army had even swept through Culmart, Tailyn’s native town, though the raids since then had spared them. The people had grown soft. And it was in that moment that the green beasts showed up.