War Of The Immortals (standard:fantasy, 1566 words)
Author: Ambrosious	Added: Feb 21 2001	Views/Reads: 3694/2291	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
The Moderation has been broken, the mages are going to war.

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Barnabus grunted at Jax when he entered the great room and headed for
the door. He pushed it open with a broad hand and headed out into the 
morning air, tearing a piece of venison with his teeth as he went. He 
turned and handed the remaining venison to Jax and sealed the cottage 
with a spell. As he cast the spell of protectiveness on the cottage, 
something didn’t feel right. Barnabus redoubled his efforts and the 
spell was cast. Funny, maybe it was from sitting in one spot for days 
that had him off form. The two men, one mage and his apprentice, turned 
to leave the valley. They walked for half of a league and were hitting 
a good stride when they both bounced off of an invisible barrier. Both 
men sprawled on the grass and the wall started singing with an 
un-earthly voice. It was multi purpose spell, for it was designed to 
hold Barnabus here at his cottage, and it screamed to the caster if he 
tried to leave. It was a weak spell and Barnabus knew that it was 
easily thrown aside. The mage picked himself up and looked at the wall 
with great sadness. The war had begun. 

Barnabus stood and took stock of the situation. He would need more than
what Jax had brought for traveling, if indeed this was the start of a 
war. Jax was outraged at the audacity shown by one of their own. 
Barnabus had seen much worse, and his mind ran over a course of action. 
First, they would need to travel a great distance in a short time, for 
the alarm had served its purpose in reporting his whereabouts to 
someone who meant him no good, he was sure. Second, he would need to 
gather some of the more influential among their kind. The best time to 
stop the brutality was now. If it got out of hand... 

Barnabus sent Jax back to the cottage for one thing, a spell book that
was hundreds of years old. It was a treasured possession and would 
contain a way to deal with the spell placed around his property. He 
also set to conjuring a carpet, one that they could travel on. A little 
trick he had learned in the dessert as a youth. By the time Jax had 
returned, Barnabus had formed a carpet of moss, and had cast the 
necessary spell that brought it to life. He took the book from Jax and 
spoke to it lovingly, if the book was in a bad mood or if Barnabus 
pissed it off...it would never cooperate. Fortunately, the book was 
quite happy and turned to the page that was needed, for the book could 
also sense magics that were nearby. With a deep voice, Barnabus started 
the spell. Jax looked on with contempt. HE had studied for so long and 
never even got to glimpse the book. If and when the opportunity arised, 
the old man was going to get it, and get it good. Jax would have that 
book, no matter what. 

Drak was hanging from a tall tree by a short rope when he heard the
"announcement". It was his 8,987th try at killing himself. He hated 
immortality. He hated life. His life had one purpose, and that was 
trying to find a way to end that life. Nothing had worked so far, and 
only a few of his attempts even hurt him. He thought that this time, he 
had stumbled on something that worked. He had never tried strangulation 
before, not with a rope anyway, because he didn't breath through his 
mouth or nose. In fact, he didn't breathe. He tried it though, or he 
couldn't honestly say that he tried everything. He swung in the wind 
and wondered how long this might take. He had been hanging since 
daybreak and was starting to get bored with it. 

Drak decided to wait until night fall, just to be sure he gave it a good
try, and then he would cut himself down. He wondered about the 
announcement and wondered if it could be true. If the Moderation was 
broken, maybe he COULD die. With a shrug that set his body swaying 
below him, he dismissed the thought. Moderation broken indeed. That 
must be the result of hanging by the neck for extended periods of time. 
It was preposterous, even absurd. Drak returned to looking at his feet 
while the midday sun beat upon his balding head. 


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