Mar was gulping down his fourth cup of water when he had to force himself to slow down. Boris dropped his cup to the stump with a thud.

“Too much for me.” The man said with a burp. “I’m calling it quits. Unlike you lot I’m on deck first thing in the morning.”

“Smart of you.” Hans said, putting his cup down. “I’m not done drinking, but competitions are bad for my health. You can consider me out as well.”

Porky glanced at the two drop outs, and then back to his hand, which was swaying slightly with his cup. He glanced back and forth between Mar and Thamos.

Mar of course, having been drinking water, was mostly unaffected. Thamos was also unparsed due to his many years of building up an incredibly high tolerance.

As he finished off his sixth cup, Mar was beginning to worry. Thamos seemed none the worse for ware and his drinking ability was beginning to seem highly suspicious. Not that that mattered. Mar just needed to ditch the old sailor for a bit. Once they were safely back on the ship he could reveal the little trick he’d pulled off with the help of the village girl. They’d be mad at him but he could play it off as a prank to impress them.

Then Mar noticed some whispering by the barrels. An older man with gray hairs in his otherwise black beard hissed something in the girl’s ears. Despite some initial protests, she packed up all the cups that weren’t in use and started carrying them into the nearest building. Several more townsfolk could be seen gathering in the distance, many of them still equipped with makeshift weapons from their fight with the insect.

The bearded townsman approached their table with a new round of drinks.

“Drink up. Rounds on me.” He said coldly before retreating to stand back with the growing crowd of onlookers. Mar swished the liquid in his tankard back and forth. This drink was flat unlike the ale. He took a small taste. That wasn’t water. In fact, if he wasn’t mistaken, this was brandy rather than ale, and a strong batch at that.

“Somethin’ is wrong.” Thamos commented.

“I’ll say. Free brandy? These townies musta’ never seen a proper drinkin’ competition before!” Porky slurred as he took small sips from the new tankard in front of him.

Thamos shook his head. “I’d hope this town woulda’ been smart enough… I think it’s time to call it quits boys. Let’s head back to the ship.”

First Mate Jimson leaned over from the other table, which hosted most of the rest of the crew. “C’mon now Thamos! We can’t leave so soon. Not until the fermented crab is loaded at least.” His eyes darted to the townsfolk as well though and narrowed in suspicion. The cheerless manner in which the bearded man had delivered their drinks had done nothing to alleviate their suspicions.

Before any more discussion could break out, Captain Rollie burst out of a nearby building, walking to the center of the small glade where his crew was enjoying himself.

“Ah, Captain! Come to drink with the crew after all?” Porky raised his cup shakily.

This was the first time Mar had seen the captain up close. He was shorter than Mar thought.

“Captain.” First Mate Jimson gave a salute and stood up. “I thought you were staying in the mayor’s home tonight.”

“Change of plans.” Captain Rollie hissed in a surprising hoarse voice. “Pack your things and board the ship.”

First Mate Jimson furrowed his brows in confusion. “But the crab…”

“Those are my orders Jimson. Gather everyone up. We’re leaving, now.”

Jimson gave a military salute. “You heard the captain, time to get moving! Everyone sober enough to walk, lend a hand to those that aren’t.”

There was a round of harsh complaints all around, but First Mate Jimson silenced the descenders with glare and the promise that anyone who didn’t get themselves on the ship would be left behind.

Several sailors downed the last drops of their cups, including Thamos. Mar didn’t touch his, and neither did Porky, who was standing up from the table unsteadily.

Mar glanced at the sailors stumbling towards the ship, and then back to the nearby woods. After a moment of hesitation, Mar made his decision. He’d hate to lose his place aboard the ship, but with Jinn he could continue to learn magic.

From here the gathering townsfolk were becoming more noticeable. Many of them had angry expressions on their faces, and some were holding weapons. He just needed to make a quick trip to that part of the forest where he fell. If he ran there and back he could return before the ship left.

Mar broke into a jog, running to the left. This was the same path he’d taken earlier so he could run the route even in the fading light. Luckily most of the villagers had congregated on the other side of the glade, adjacent to the town, so Mar was able to pass through this wooded area without running into any potentially hostile villagers.

He came across the area where the townsfolk caught the beetle. As he expected there was nothing there. Even the insect’s corpse had been bundled up and hauled away. The bloodstone and the amethyst would have both been collected if they had been found, but when inactive, Jinn was a simple gray stone.

Mar continued his jog, making his way towards the small alcove where he had practiced magic. Almost immediately upon entering the alcove, Mar’s eyes spotted Jinn lying untouched right in the center of an otherwise cleared area on the ground.

He walked over to pick the stone up.

“That’s far enough, vile one.” Hissed a menacing voice. Mar felt something sharp pressing against the back of his neck.

“You think I wouldn’t notice a warlock’s totem when I saw it? I served on The Wall, little dark mage.”

Mar held up his hands in a nonthreatening gesture while he slowly turned his head towards his attacker. It was Goodman Varns, the man who had killed the beetle.

“Your name is Goodman Varns, right? Look, I don’t know what you’re talking about, but I came here earlier to get away from the noise for a moment and I think I dropped my coin pouch. If you just give me a minute to look for it I’ll be on my w-”

“Keep your forked tongue behind your teeth, demon whisperer!” The Goodman hissed viciously. “I’ll not have any of it.”

It seemed lies wouldn’t help him here. Perhaps the truth would.

“Look, Goodman Varns, you’re protective of your village. I’m sorry you were attacked by that monster. After this I’m headed directly towards the ship. After I board I am leaving and plan to never set eyes on this place again.”

The Goodman snorted. “Do you really thing I’m going to simply let evil slip through my fingers? If I let you go now you’ll go on to cause a hundred more such tragedies before you’re finally put down. The Wall was built to stop creatures like you.”

Goodman Varns wasn’t willing to see reason, but perhaps Mar could keep him talking for just a little while longer. Long enough to work a bit of magic. Mar shifted into mage sight as he slowly turned around to face the Goodman. Sure enough, he still had the bloodstone in his pocket. It wasn’t inside his body, but perhaps it was close enough.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, but I swear I will play no part in any deaths that I can help. I care abou-”

Goodman Varns interrupted with a snort that was even louder than before. “You care? I saw how you glanced at Harnold’s broken body. He was my friend! And you dismissed him like a piece of meat! All you dark mages are the same. Your foul power corrupts your soul until there is no goodness left! That is why you are an abomination that must be extinguished!”

Mar was about to say something in reply when the meaning of the Goodman’s words hit him. He hadn’t thought twice about the dead villager, had he? Even after he had struggled so hard to save the child…

“Your son, the chubby one. I drew the beetle’s attention away from him. He would have died if not for me.”

“I’ll believe that when Mivira, goddess of justice, pops out of a pig’s rear and tells me so. Now, it’s time for you to die. May your soul be cleansed in the fires of hell!” Goodman Varns brought back his axe. His feet sank into the same position they had been in when he had struck the final blow against the beetle. It was obviously a practiced move.

“I don’t think so.” Mar whispered in reply as he formed the final threads of the spirit magic connecting him to the villager. He unleashed a torrent of spirit mana through his body, coursing down the line of power that drifted delicately through the air between him and the Goodman Varns, who had leapt off the ground, axe raised high.

Mar tried to dodge to the left, but even the tiny glimpse of the Goodman’s spiritual form with mage sight had left him with a pounding headache and slowed reaction time. He wasn’t going to be able to dodge that blow. He channeled more magic down the thread of mana. His senses gave off the distinct scent of something burning in the air.

“Blast!” Mar hissed out the trigger word for the only spell he knew, aiming for the wrist that held the felling axe descending towards his head. He threw every bit of mana he could muster into the spell, knowing that this might be the difference between life and death.

“Blast!”

“Blast!”

Mar repeated the spell twice more. His gambit proved somewhat effective, as his spell robbed Goodman Varns of his dexterity. The axe twisted out of alignment in his hands, so that it struck Mar’s shoulder partially on the flat. None the less, the blow was still immensely powerful and it knocked Mar off his feet. He heard the distinct sound of cracking bone and his arm bent unnaturally at the joint.

He felt an immense pain, but it was strangely distant. As if he were merely an observer looking in on someone in pain.

Goodman Varns was also thrown to the ground, though for different reasons. He clutched at his side and his veins popped along his body, his skin turning a sickly gray.

“What… what is this!?” The Goodman demanded. “What manner of wicked sorcery is this!” He sputtered and coughed weakly.

Mar tried to struggle to his feet, but his arm twisted and bent, completely unfeeling and unable to so much as twitch it. He was certain the real pain would come at any moment, but it never did. He turned his attention to the Goodman, who’s condition was rapidly deteriorating. He was bloating like the beetle had, changing color and parts of his body growing unnaturally with one half of him far larger than the other.

The Goodman shook himself, trying to ignore the twisting agony that his transformation must have been causing him, reaching for his axe, which looked pitiful small in his grotesquely enlarged hands. He started stumbling towards Mar.

If he had been reacting normally to his shattered shoulder he probably would have been in too much pain to notice the lumbering figure, but his strangely detached state of mind brought the threat to his attention. Mar desperately attempted to put the connecting thread of mana between them back together before the Goodman figured out how to move in his changing body.

Varns started lumbering towards Mar on all fours. He wasn’t even recognizable as human now. Puss was leaking from large orifices all over his body. Bone poked out like spikes along his spine and an extra mouth had formed near his throat. His expanding head had twisted his left eye around so that it stood lengthwise along the center of his face. It was grotesque.

Mar managed to reattach the tread of mana to the bloodstone, which was throbbed with power eve in mundane sight now. Mar opened his entire aura to it, desperately dumping in mana as fast as it would leave him.

This time Varns must have realized that it was the bloodstone that was allowing Mar to work magic on him. He clutched at his side, but his hands were too big to fit inside the pockets of the clothes that now only dangled on his body.

Mar reached to his belt pouch with his good arm, where he had all the other crystals. Just as what once had been Goodman Varns managed to toss his old clothes away Mar threw the fistful of crystals. Most bounced off the creatures hide but one of them clung to a puss-filled orifice. Mar focused on that one, rebuilding his connection.

The creature let out an inhuman scream as Mar dumped more mana into it, desperate finish it before it finished him. He began to feel his ability push out mana starting to fade. His mana pool was nearly empty. Mar desperately squeezed out the last few drops of mana from his aura.

Just as he ran out of power, there was a low-pitched rumbling sound, and the distinct note of a crystal shattering. In a thunderous boom, the abomination that had once been Goodman Varns exploded violently, coating the surrounding area in puss and brimstone-colored blood.

Mar struggled to his feet, cradling his ruined arm in his good one. He took a moment to wipe the goop from his eyes with his elbow, and stooped over to pick up Jinn, which he brushed off and stuck in his pocket.

The strange feeling of being a bystander hadn’t faded, but Mar wasn’t eager to see it leave. He knew he’d act irrationally if he came to his senses, so whatever was allowing him to remain so detached was a good thing. He looked around, but the only crystal he could see was the one that was still buried in the creature’s orifice. He picked that one out of the pile of goop and rubbed it off on his jacket, sticking it with Jinn in his pocket. It was time to head back to the ship.

The moment he gathered his things mar left the little glade. He wanted to job all the way back to the ship but his left ankle wouldn’t move properly, and any rapid pace tugged on Mar’s ruined arm, that seemed to only remain connected to him by a few bits of ruined flesh. The strangely calm portion of his mind realized he had to be gentle with it or risk losing the limb entirely, though it seemed unlikely he would ever be able to use it properly again.

Mar was halfway back to the ship when he began to feel a slight tingling sensation in his arm. Now that he recognized it, he felt as though he had been frozen in ice, body and mind. That ice was thawing now, and with it came unwelcome thoughts.

He’d just killed somebody. Murdered him with magic. He was also indirectly responsible for that other villager’s death. And yet for some reason he’d felt nothing at the time. Even now he felt numb to it all. Mar had always considered himself as someone who conducted themselves with honor, and abided by the law. So why was he so unbothered by it now? Perhaps he was still in shock? No… that wasn’t it.

Now that he thought about it, this icy feeling was just like what he had felt in the spirit realm. He felt detached from himself, an observer in his own skin.

Magic. That was the answer. Both times he’d been channeling huge amounts of his own mana. Mar had heard of fire mages getting angry in the midst of battle, and water mages achieving a state of serenity and one-ness. Untrained air mages might even become so carefree they forget about the battlefield entirely.

Perhaps this spirit mana that he wielded was similar in that regard. Perhaps using too much of it effected his mind, stifling his emotions. He would need to ask Jinn about it later.

The pain grew as Mar trudged along, analyzing himself. His arm was a mess of agony, and his foot began to heart as well, slowing him down further as his body began to demand his attention. He’d been able to ignore the feelings earlier but the mystical dissonance effect faded he found himself less and less able to resist the overwhelming pain.

Just need to get to the ship. Once he was on board he could sail somewhere far away. There next stop was in a city. There would be physickers there, maybe even a flesh mage. Just had to get to the ship.

Finally, Mar broke through the line of houses. Luckily, he hadn’t run into any of the townsfolk yet, because if he did they would surely detain him at the very least. And when they found Jimson’s affects littered about the remains of that monster in the woods… it’s unlikely he would live much longer than that.

The pain continued to grow, slowing Mar’s pace now. His balance was beginning to grow uneasy and blood rushed out of his head to his wounds. He was beginning to feel lightheaded and he knew that if he fell he likely wouldn’t be able to stand up again. He had to get to the docks.

His hopes were crushed when he was able to see the docks through blurry eyes. There were three dozen torches lighting up the whole length of the wooden structure, the glimmer of iron tools being brandished could be seen in the reflected light. They were gesturing angrily at the spot where The Hidden Gem had been moored just minutes ago. But it was no longer tied up there. Instead, it was floating out at sea, outlined by the reflected light of the lazy moon, which dangled low in the horizon.

They’d left without him.

Mar fell to his knees by the sandy shoreline. The numbness that had protected his sanity had left him now, leaving his body a seething mass of pain and his mind a writhing pit of turmoil and uncertainty. He tried to reach into his aura and draw some magic out, but he’d used every drop he’d had.

The chill of the evening air swept over him as Mar sagged to the ground. His breathing had grown uneasy, gaining a sloshing wet sound to it. Not good. Mar remembered from his readings that such a sound was a sign of blood spilling into his lungs. That was a bad way to go, drowned in his own fluids.

The blowing breeze carried the scent of burning pitch to him. He rolled his unfocused eyes in their direction and realized that the townsfolk were marching towards him, baring torches. Was he going to die here? He could feel the blood draining from his head, his vision growing red and hazy, stars blinking in and out across his blurry eyes. He’d lose consciousness any second now.

Mar felt vibrations next to his head. Somebody was stepping near him.

“…by the gods, the townsfolk really did a number on him…” was that Thamos?

“For good reason. I suspected as much when Krellak told me of him… I know of a place where his kind knows safety.”

“…Pick up his legs and help me get him in the boat. We’ll need to row hard to catch up with the ship.”

Mar awoke with a groan. Everything ached.

He tried to sit up, and was surprised to find that he could. Mar pried his eyes open through an effort of will, though his body desperately wanted more rest.

He was swinging in his hammock, in the ship again. He must have made it to the docks after all. That didn’t seem right though… the last thing he could remember was somebody picking him up. Somebody must have come back for him. Thamos, judging by the voice. Mar would need to find a way to repay the old sailor. There had been somebody else as well though, but Mar couldn’t recognize the voice.

He reached over to his left arm with his right. It was still painfully sore, but feeling under his tunic it felt normal. He found that he could move it as well, though it protested greatly at his use. Mar continued running his good hand up and down his body, touching every aching part. Everything seemed accounted for. It seemed they hadn’t needed to amputate anything.

Still, he should not have been able to make such a miraculous recovery. Not without the help of a skilled surgeon and three months of bed rest. Or a flesh mage.

Mar was fairly certain it hadn’t been three months, so that meant that he had been healed by magic. But who? If there was a flesh mage, skilled enough with water magic to manipulate the fluids inside living tissues to accelerate healing, there was surely more lucrative pursuits for than than the life of a sailor.

Mar furrowed his brow as he considered the mystery, letting his mind try to puzzle through it until he drifted back to sleep.

It must have been several hours later when he woke back up. Someone was pouring something down his throat. It was too thick to be water, like a runny soup.

Mar sputtered and coughed up the small volume of liquid.

“Boss! You alive!” came a jubilant voice.

Mar opened his eyes and saw Grob’s familiar green visage. “Grob… it’s you. How long was I out?”

“The sun goes up and goes down one hand of times. I count it like you teach me.”

Five days then. That confirmed the notion that magic had been used in his recovery. His body still ached all over but he had some energy to him now.

“Your goblin friend was lookin’ after you day and night while you were out.”

Mar glanced over his shoulder. It was Thamos sipping from a flask.

“The man Thamos help me a lot, boss! He finds me soup and water and showed me what to do!”

Mar glanced at the both. “Thank you Grob. I shall have to find a proper reward for you.”

The goblin beamed at the praise.

“And you, Thamos.” Mar continued. “I need to find a way to properly thank you.”

Thamos waved his hand. “I just gave the goblin a few pointers. It was nothin’ really.”

Mar shook his head. “Not that, for picking me up off shore and rowing me back to the ship.”

Thamos raised an eyebrow. “You were awake for that? I was certain you were out cold.”

“I remember enough to know I have you to thank. Those villagers… I don’t know what got them so upset, but judging by what the last one did to me, I think that if the mob had gotten to me I wouldn’t be sitting here.”

Thamos took another sip from his flask. “Thank the captain, not me. He’s the one who spotted you on the shore line. He rowed the boat himself to come pick you up. Don’t know why. Ya’ haven’t been payin’ the captain night time visits or somethin’ have you?” Thamos joked.

Mar ignored the jibe and just puzzled over the new piece of information. The captain hadn’t even spoken to him directly since he’d taken a position on the ship. Why go so far out of his way to save him?

Suddenly Thamos got serious. “Mar… be straight with me.”

Mar glanced up at the serious tone in Thamos’ voice.

“You’re a mage, right? And not just any mage. A mage of the Black.”

Mar was unfamiliar with the term, but judging by the expression on Thamos’ face Mar wasn’t really expected to answer.

“Now I don’t expect you to tell me one way or another, but you should know that the ruins of old Reme, beyond the Wall, isn’t just for hordes of mindless undead. More than one mage has sought research in solitude there.” Thamos put down his flask as he looked Mar in the eyes.

“Dark need not be evil Mar. Mages aren’t understood, and people fear what they don’t understand. And mages aren’t understood throughout most of the world. Places like Orlem and the League of Free cities being the exception. And even there you can find types of magic hated and feared. They call dark mages monsters and abominations. Just promise me that you won’t become what they say.”

Mar didn’t know what to say, so after a long pause he nodded. “Okay.”

Thamos seemed to visibly relax. He picked up his flask again and took a sip. He offered it to Mar who took a tiny sip, which he coughed back up. Thamos drank some potent stuff.

“Ha! I knew you were faking that little stunt with the ale! What’d you do, bribe the serving girl? How much did she charge you?”

“Three silver.” Mar admitted.

Thamos whistled. “Ya got scammed lad. Still, you’d best run off and apologize to Boris, Hans, and Porky. Porky in particular was sick for three days after that little drinking competition. He’s still feeling sore over it.

Mar agreed that he’d patch things up and make up for the killer hangover he’d caused his fellow sailor.

“Good lad. Now, you feeling well enough to come up top with me? We should have a proper port town in our sights some time today. Hopefully this time we won’t be chased out by an angry mob.” Thamos joked.

Mar climbed out of the hammock and headed up top with Thamos.