The Cursed Legacy (Patreon)

The early story of the Countermage is seen as a tragedy. 

Born in the southern parts of the Elohi continent during the Sun and Moon Queen’s crusade to root out the petty tyrants of the continent, Andreas was not even born with a proper last name, let alone with greatness. 

He grew up living a simple enough life with his mother in one of the parts of the continent that the Atsila and Ama, with their newly manifested titles and fresh advancement, were thousands of miles from reaching, a small kingdom of just under three hundred thousand people. By the time he was fourteen, he joined his mother in her work, running messages. 

This was the era before the communication mirror networks were established, and messenger was a respectable, if drudging, line of work, but Andreas took to it well enough, the storm-horses accepting him as a rider. 

It was clear he didn’t have a sungift for swift feet, flight, or the taming of storm-horses, as so many in the messengers did, but he still was admirably skilled as a rider. 

Not so much as to find a truth of riding, or to revolutionize the system of messages, but he was skilled enough to make a living, and he and his mother’s lives improved some, their services allowing them little luxuries they hadn’t had before – meat where before they would have had only grain and vegetables, spare clothing where before they would have worn it threadbare, extra spices for pickling their vegetables where before they would have only had what they could forage in their spare time.

When he was sixteen, his mother took Andreas aside to speak to him. 

“Andreas,” she began. “I want you to go to the capital, and to have your sungift and path checked.” 

“That’s too much!” Andreas protested. 

And it was. A fourth world spell on the path of knowledge or spirits, even one that could be conducted with rituals and enchantments was expensive. Even the leader of his home nation had only found the sixth world on the path of the dragon. 

Andreas' mother disagreed. She argued that even if Andreas’ sungift was nothing more than particularly strong toenails, the test would allow him to find his path. And she had saved for it, setting aside jewelry and grain and calico for two years, so that he could buy his way in. 

Andreas argued that the trade goods could be better spent elsewhere. He was nothing special, and he wouldn’t make a good pathfinder. He was no warrior to battle the more violent spirits and beasts that sought their lives. He was no lauded prodigy who had distinguished himself with the magic of all people. He was no destined hero, nor even the son or son’s son of a hero. He was simply a messenger. 

They argued until Andreas’ mother threatened to burn the calico and grain, and to throw the jewelry into the sea. 

She wouldn’t, he knew that. She wasn’t wasteful. But it showed him the spirit of her conviction, and so he accepted. 

The following day, Andreas sat astride a storm-horse, and rode to the city. 

Finding a testing facility wasn’t hard for someone as familiar with the layout of the city as a messenger, and Andreas even managed to barter for a good deal in the ritual testing by allowing them to take extra time to charge the enchantments, which left him with a good amount of calico to bring home.

Three days later, Andreas stepped into the ritual room. It was a massive space, inlaid with blooming lines of spellwork, twisting bands of copper and gold and silver, well-treated and oiled. 

The conducting mage, a young woman no more than twenty, smiled at him, asking him if he was ready. When he said he was, magic surged through the enchantments on the floor, walls, and ceiling. It pierced into him, and pain erupted through his spirit.

Then a moment later it was done. 

A blue orb hovered in the air in front of Andreas, fading away within moments.

“Your world’s path is that of protection,” the attendant told him. “It is sometimes also called guardianship, wardmaker, shielding, or other names.”

Andreas sucked in a breath. He remembered one of the stories his mother had told him about this. He wasn’t upset at it – being better able to defend himself from the threats of spirits and beasts while running messages would be good. 

It wasn’t perfect. He would have much prefered the path of skies, the path of force, or even the more esoteric path of formless movement.

But he was not disappointed. 

“And my sungift?” Andreas asked.

The woman raised her head and smiled. 

“It’s a pretty basic, but useful one. Once you’re twenty or so, your aging will slow down to seven twelfths of what it would normally be.” 

Andreas raised his eyebrows and nodded. He could certainly see some benefits to being able to live to a hundred or more. It might be a bit lonely, but perhaps he could find a wife who walked a path that would extend her lifespan. 

A part of him felt a fluttering sadness at the thought, because he knew it could never happen, as he was already lonely. He was decent looking, and provided a valuable service, but he ran all across the kingdom all the time. No one would want a husband who was constantly on the move without them, and he wouldn’t blame them, and the messengers wouldn’t accept sending two people to deliver one message. That was just inefficient. 

Still. His sungift was not a bad one, and he thanked the attendant, then turned and prepared to leave and head home. One of the people in his village walked the path of protection, and he had spells to protect the body and mind. Andreas would have to speak with him, and see what the man was willing to share, and what the man was willing to barter away. 

When he left the building on his way back to the stables where his storm-horse was stabled, he noticed something out of the corner of his eye, just a flicker.

Then again. 

Then again. 

Before he was more than halfway there, he felt a spell sink into his bones. Normally, he would have tapped the storm-horse to warn of the threat, but Andreas was alone. 

He fought the spell as long as he could, but he swooned a moment later and collapsed. 

When he woke up, he was in a small stone room, with a single door, made of rubywood. There was a mat in one corner of the room, and on the far side there was a thin spring of water he could drink or rinse himself clean with, and access to one of the aqueducts that would carry his waste to a farm. Then there was a small lamp, the kind that ran on oil, rather than on magic. It was currently lit, and the only reason he could see the room at all.

Other than that, the room was entirely empty.

He tried the door, only to find it locked tightly. Perhaps even warded, though it was hard to tell. Rubywood was already rich with magic, and his senses weren’t fine enough to pick out the specifics. 

At the rattling of the door, he heard people moving, and saw shadows through the tiny gap at the bottom of the door. 

Andreas paced the room for several minutes, trying to figure out what exactly had happened, until the door opened. 

A man in his late sixties, wearing robes woven of vicuña wool, stepped into the room and gave Andreas an almost gentle smile. 

It didn’t set Andreas at ease. If anything, it made him more on edge.

“You must be the messenger boy who died of heatstroke, so tragically soon after having his path and sunspark tested,” the man said.

Andreas frowned. 

“I’m not dead,” he finally said. “Is this a healer’s home? It’s not like any I’ve seen.” 

“You don’t recognize me? It’s stupidity, not defiance, then,” the man said, nodding. “I am emperor Tepin.”

Andreas froze and just stared. He had assumed the man must be rich, to afford the robes he wore, but… the emperor. 

“I see you are confused,” the emperor said sympathetically. “Tell me, did they explain your sungift to you? The attendant said that she did not, but that may have just been to make her look competent.” 

“I age slower…?” Andreas said, then hastily added, “sir.” 

“That is half, and the boring half. The more interesting half…” 

A wide smile spread across the emperor’s face, and it sent fear running through Andreas’ heart. 

“You can take away age from one consenting party, and transfer it to another. I’m sure you see the shape of it now – I am getting old. Too old for a breakthrough to my next world. But the north is changing, and there are rumors that within twenty years, they will be at our borders. We need a good, strong king. My son… he is weak. Unwilling to make hard decisions. He has barely stepped to his third world. He cannot save our nation.” 

The emperor reached out and placed his hand on Andreas’ shoulder. 

“I do apologize for having you brought here with such harshness and discretion. But I’m sure you understand – we couldn’t afford to allow the hope of the empire to fall into someone else’s hands. I will have you brought to a new room – you are a friend to our empire, after all.”

“Of course, sir,” Andreas agreed, bowing his head. 

“Good, good,” the emperor said. “So glad to hear it.”

Andreas was led to a luxurious room by the emperor himself, as well as a single guard. His new room was set in a high tower, with many windows that overlooked the city below, a bed with alpaca wool sheets, and a collection of books and scrolls. Actual books and scrolls, not just the simple notes that some storytellers kept around for children to learn their letters.

At first, things were not too bad. The limitations of his sungift needed exploring, after all. 

The first limit that they found was obvious – it put a strain on his spirit to use it, but the emperor never insisted that he tax himself to the breaking point. If anything, he seemed more intent on ensuring that Andreas never hurt himself. 

Whenever Andreas’ spirit was strong enough to manage it, they continued to look for other parameters. Andreas couldn’t take away or give years to any who didn’t wish it, but the emperor wanted to know where that limit was exactly. 

Animals ready to be slaughtered were brought before the Andreas, but his sungift could neither take nor give from them, so they tried other things – herblore to enhance the perceptions of the animals, mages on the path of the mind, and animals who had awakened minds of their own. 

It became clear that those who truly had a mind could give or take years, but those who only gained their mind for moments could not. 

After that, some of the worst of humanity, those who should have been executed for their crimes, were brought before him with the offer to remove age from the emperor and his attendants and transfer it to them. 

It was difficult and strange, though. Many of those who said that they were willing could not give away life, not until they were taken away for their execution, at which point, it clicked into place. Other times, they would go to their death without ever accepting the gift of giving life to the emperor and his attendants. 

Andreas found he did not mind so much, after the third or fourth time. They had done bad things, after all.

The efficiency rate was tested too, and found to be poor. An entire year of age given to another restored little more than a month of youth. 

And during all the experimentation and working, he was treated well. 

Andreas was allowed to wander the tower in which he had been placed, which was devoted entirely to him, and in which no other lived, though the emperor and his attendants visited often.

Andreas wrote letters to his mother, who sent hers back. The letters were formal and stiff, but that was to be expected. After all, she was sending them to the home of the emperor. Andreas would likely be formal as well. 

His magic was allowed to grow, though slowly. His sungift strained his spirit, so his training needed to go slowly, else he would damage his own soul.

For seven weeks, he found himself happy enough, but by the fourth day of the eighth week, he tried to leave the tower and found the guard blocking his way. 

“I’m sorry, sir,” the guard said. “You cannot leave. If you were to go out, you’d be in danger.” 

Andreas begged and pleaded, asking just to stretch his legs in the outside world, perhaps a brief ride on a horse. Not even a storm-horse! He would settle for a mundane horse. 

He found himself rebuffed, and hours later, he was forced to listen to a lecture from the emperor about the dangers of the outside world, and how it was best to stay here. 

That sated Andreas, but he wasn’t happy. He was trapped in a cage, and he paced around it constantly. 

Two months after his first attempt to leave, Andreas struck upon an idea.

“Sir, I’ll happily transfer the life, but… I need to go out after,” he said to the emperor. “I can wear an illusion to hide myself, and a guard can accompany me.” 

He thought the king might agree, but it only earned him another long lecture. 

When Andreas played the one card he had, refusing, he found a spell settling into him, one his magic, new as it was, could not stop. 

He awoke in the cell again. 

“Let me be clear,” emperor Tepin said. “You will transfer life to me and mine as I see fit. If you do not, you will stay here with no food.” 

Andreas was not a warrior or strong of soul. That threat alone had him quaking, and he agreed. 

He was kept in the dungeon for three days as punishment, then brought back to his rooms above, though he stopped being tutored in magic. 

But bitterness burned in him, and a year later, tried to refuse his role again. 

He lasted three days without food before he broke. When he heard the footsteps of the guards, he stood and rushed to the door, ready to surrender, but it opened to reveal a young man, no older than twenty. Paler than most, he must have been one of the rich dandies who could afford to live in the palace, and his hair was long and dark.

“It’s not much, but here,” the man said, removing a small bundle of corn and meat wrapped in banana leaves, then pushing it to him. Andreas took them numbly, and the man smiled. 

“Just hold out a little longer. I need to go.” 

The man turned and fled, relocking the door. Scant minutes later, the guards passed by, and Andreas was infinitely thankfully they could not see into the room without bending over to pass food through the door. 

The young man visited him nine more times, and with his help, Andreas was able to survive another week. He wasn’t living, but he was surviving. 

Emperor Tepin visited him, and the torture began. 

Andreas broke.

The emperor didn’t need a healthy servant to use his sungift. He only needed the servant to live. 

Andreas stopped even trying to resist. He was never removed from his cell, but he was given food, and after a week of complete compliance, he was given small luxuries like books. 

He didn’t read them. It would be too much effort. 

When the door opened to reveal the young man who had snuck him food, Andreas didn’t even look at him. 

“I’m so sorry,” the man said, stepping in and sitting next to Andreas on the ragged cot. 

Andreas said nothing. 

“Just hold on a little longer, okay?” the man said. “I’ve nearly reached the fourth world, and perhaps… Maybe if I can breach fifth, I can challenge my father. I don’t… Nobody should be treated like you are.” 

Andreas moved then, just a tiny twitch, a tiny nod.

“The war fares poorly in the north,” the man said. “It’s also possible my father will fall in battle against the dual monarchs.” 

“I don’t even know who those are,” Andreas whispered, his voice hoarse. 

The man told him, talking about the monarchs who had overthrown the Eternal Snowstorm far, far to the north, so far that Andreas didn’t even have a frame of reference for where it might be.

The man talked about some of the books Andreas had, and asked if he had read them. When Andreas said no, the man offered to read them. 

The guards passed by several times, but they never seemed to notice the fact that Andreas had someone else in the room. 

“I just realized,” the man said. “I never introduced myself. I am Calatl.” 

“Andreas,” Andreas said, meeting the man’s brown eyes for the first time.

Over the following year, Calatl visited him at least once a week, and while Andreas never tried to resist the emperor’s demands again, the isolation still took a toll on him, and had Calatl not visited, Andreas was confident he would have lost himself to the madness of being alone. 

Calatl smuggled him better food, books, and even spell manuals. Andreas didn’t practice them. 

What was the point? 

But in the end, it was the sun and moon queens who brought true change. Andreas didn’t even watch the first battle, where the emperor had fallen, but he was pulled from his cell one evening by Calatl. 

“You’re free,” the man said, eyes burning. “My father fell in battle to the Moon Queen’s curses only an hour ago, and I’ve officially surrendered. Only the loyalists who would rather die than see the city owned by another still fight. Will you come with me? That is not an order.” 

“Sure,” Andreas said, his mind too numb to fully believe it. 

Andreas and Calatl climbed to the roof of the palace, and Andreas saw the sunset. The first sunset he’d seen in… A long time. 

In the glow of the sun, he could see the battle warring at the edge of the city. 

Andreas watched them as they battled against the entire council of the emperor, everyone who he had treated many times. 

One of them, an old monster who was in the fifth world on the path of war and guardians, attempted to strike down the pair, and Andreas got to see his first glimpse of true power. 

A girl with bright red hair and dark skin thrust her hand out as he brought a forged blade down on her head. The blade released an explosion of power that tore apart the better part of a city block. 

And the girl was left unharmed as a white haired girl appeared before her, shadows and ice catching the blow. The redhead held up a single hand, and a purple flame rushed from it. 

And in that single strike, the councilor died. 

Perhaps if he had not been broken, then Andreas would have wanted that power for himself. If he were a guardian on her level, nobody could imprison him. 

Instead, he reached for the prince, turned emperor, turned surrenderer, and wept into the man’s shirt. 

And Calatl allowed him to. 

In the coming days, everything began to change. Calatl was named as governor of the conquered city, and given many new rules to enact. 

Andreas was left adrift, wandering the streets freely. Calatl still spoke to him, but never demanded Andreas do anything. He never even asked about the man’s sungift, his legacy as the conquering queens called it. Indeed, he didn’t even tell the queens about it. 

But he made offers. Calatl offered Andreas a seat at his table. He offered to teach Andreas magic. He offered Andreas more than everything that existed in the entire town he had grown up in. He

Andreas did join Calatl for dinner at times, and once he agreed to join Calatl for a ride on horses. 

It ended poorly, in Andreas’ opinion, as he broke down crying the moment he saw the majestic beasts. Calatl just offered him a hand, and they spoke. 

It took years, but things started to change. Things were better under the queens, but also worse. 

At that time in history, the queens believed that punishment and power could keep people from committing crimes, and tried to enact strong laws. 

This failed them, as is known today – when your options are punishment if you’re caught as a thief or to die of starvation for doing nothing, there is no punishment truly great enough to stop the gnawing in the belly – but in those days, the queens were children, not even yet thirty years of age, trying to cleanse a continent that was riddled with the remnants of the cult of the primes, power hungry tiny empires, and occultists who treated the world as slaves to their will. They too changed and grew, but that is another story altogether. 

Andreas barely noticed the world spin as the Sun and Moon Queen learned new things. To him, it was simple. The world now was different. 

One winter feast, five years after his release, Andreas invited Calatl, on one of the governor’s rare breaks, to a small town where storm-horses grazed, and to the house of his family. 

When the pair stepped over the threshold, the ghost of his mother, who had died in the fighting, never even knowing her son was alive, not killed of heatstroke as the emperor claimed, appeared to them, smiled, and faded away.

And there, in his empty home, empty for everyone save the one person who had ever shown him kindness, Andreas reached for his magic.

He couldn’t protect anyone, but things had changed. They needed to continue to change. And it was time for the man who would one day be known as the Countermage to change too.

“Calatl,” Andreas said softly. “Can you teach me magic?”