Curselock

Chapter 63: Cantrips

Jude and Glenny hummed together, their eyes scanning down a wooden board of crudely written script. They pointed to one occasionally, discussed the quest’s logistics, then moved on to another. They, like with the previous few quests, could not agree on which to choose. Everything was just meh and not what they wanted.

During this, Leland sat off to the side, nursing a splitting headache. He had, once again, tried to search his mind for any information about his newest locked curse. And, just like with the previous attempt, he could only hear shearing wind and gargled screams.

As the pain receded, Leland finally decided to speak up. “The Huntress visited me last night.”

The other boys turned, their eyes widening like roasted pistachios. They both eyed their teammate, searching for wounds or psychological damage.

“A-are you okay?” Jude asked, amplified by a vigorous head nod from Glenny.

Leland gave them a look, and said, “Yes. She… she’s trying to help my… condition. Gave me a pointer and advised me on what we should do in the immediate future.”

That perked Glenny up. “Did she throw you in front of a basilisk also?”

“No, she told me to ‘search internally.’ Then I got to use my spells on her.”

Jude perked up at that. “Did you hurt the old devil?”

All three boys deflated at that. Leland continued. “She suggested we go to Frostford and compete in that herb competition.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, she said that if the competition didn’t work out, then the town would still have plenty of traveling merchants to buy from.”

Jude suddenly found himself going over the quest board with renewed interest. Anything, anything, was better than an herb gathering quest. He’d take caravan protection any day of the week over walking through a forest and plucking mushrooms from the dirt.

A bit more subdued, Glenny also returned to the quest board, finding everything labeled with a scribbled no now looked just a hair better than previously. Nothing caught his eye, but gathering herbs sounded awful. He wouldn’t mind seeing the festival, however. Town-wide parties always reminded him of home, of his family.

Leland didn’t look at the quest board. He’d do anything the others chose, anything to not be in the way. Especially as he was the only rank one, he felt his vote didn’t count as much.

“Frostford is not that far. We could take some monster purging quest and head over at our own pace. We’d probably still beat the festival’s start if we took a week off.”

Jude and Glenny frowned at the statement. Then, like a switch flipping, both suddenly felt the urge to simply agree. They were getting nowhere, and simply wallowing around this town’s Guild branch for a week sounded like torture.

“I’m fine with traveling to Frostford,” Jude finally said.

“Agreed,” Glenny quickly added.

Hopping up from his seat, Leland joined the pair at the quest board. “It’s decided then. To Frostford we go. Now let’s see.” His gaze scanned the wall of quests. “That one and that one. Both monster killing quests, one of which want intact pelts, and both quest givers are along the way.”

“Three birds with one stone,” Glenny mused. “How did we get stuck with looking for quests? You are much better at it than us.”

Leland reddened slightly. “I just want what’s best for the team. If you two felt passionate about a quest, I figure my vote wouldn’t matter.”

Jude gave his friend a harsh frown. “We’ve talked about this, you are not behind or less than us just because you haven’t ranked up. You will get there, and likely outpace both of us to rank three.”

Leland wanted to smile but simply couldn’t. In the back of his mind, he heard whispers of doubt. In the center of his heart, he felt cold pressure. He hoped Jude was right, though. He truly hoped he was.

The boys went over the quests one last time but were cut short when a portly man appeared beside Jude. Jude and the man whispered to each other out of earshot of the others, eventually leaving together after a lousy excuse from the Legacy of the Berserker.

Glenny and Leland moved to investigate, following outside the Guild with the subtlety of a duo of kittens. But, like following a ghost into a wall, Jude disappeared.

“Uh, what just happened?” Leland asked.

“Don’t know,” Glenny muttered.

They stood there, eyeing the empty street. “Was he kidnapped by the Huntress?”

“Uh. I hope not.”

“Yeah…”

“Yeah…”

But, like clockwork, the sinking feeling in Leland made another appearance. “I’m going to try to work on my problem. Want to come along?”

“I would… but Jude’s sudden disappearance has me suspicious. I think I’m going to try to find him and see what he’s up to.”

Watching Glenny turn invisible and expectantly wander off, Leland suddenly grit his teeth and strolled off. He traveled through the rural town, past courtyards and buildings alike. Around shops selling feed, beer, or tools, and waved to masons working on pathways or contractors building roofs.

All in all, Leland liked this town, despite not knowing its name. It reminded him of home, of his close knit community of locals and the ever changing tide of adventurers. Despite having different infrastructure and livelihoods, the town was still a town. One that Leland wanted the ability to protect if the need ever arose.

So, he started practicing. Not his primary five curses, he didn’t even try to unlock his sixth. No, Leland finally thought it time to expand his repertoire into something else. Something more. A childhood of reading pandering books about magic had left him with ideas galore, all of which wouldn’t help him anymore.

He was not a Legacy of Magic, he was a Legacy of Curses. Things would be different, his Legacy simply didn’t have the ease of means to create spells, or in his case, curses. Cantrips would be harder to create, their learning curve still hidden behind a veil of teacherless instruction. But still, learning lesser forms of magic might prove vital in unlocking his last primary curse.

At least, he hoped so.

Leland didn’t know much about lifeforce and how it reacted similarly to mana, but he got to work. He started with something basic, something written in every textbook about magic he had ever read. The cantrip called Spark. It was simple in nature, one of the first uses of magic in recorded history. One that changed how man lived.

Cantrips were simple spells, ones without means of ranking up or progression past simple changes. They were, for all intents and purposes, everyday uses of magic. Ones that were utilized for benign utility rather than combat or occupation. They were so simple, that no Lord fought over who could use such magic. Cantrips were simply for anyone with mana.

Spark was the cantrip most rookies learned far before leaving the nest for the first time. It was a means of survival, one that could start a fire without use of tools or skill. Leland controlled the raw mana inside himself, the fuel put into his body by his Lord via his Legacy. He pushed it to the tip of a single finger, willing it to zip out with heated aspect.

“Gah!” Leland shouted, pulling his finger to his mouth and sucking on his skill sizzling skin.

Within moments, his ring of regeneration eased his pain, healing his wound. Yet, the pain remained. Spark was the simplest cantrip, and he failed? Oh, how Leland was glad his parents weren’t around to see him. He’d be teased, he just knew it.

He tried again. And again. And again. By the sixth attempt, Leland started to suspect something was off. He shouldn’t be having such difficulty. He remembered the tutorial in his books, he remembered his parent’s lessons. Yet something eluded him…

Letting out a loose groan, Leland connected the dots - his Legacy’s special ability. His magic was fueled by mana and lifeforce. As he tried again and as a deep orange spark shot from his finger tip, he felt truly dumb.He felt even dumber when said spark landed on a patch of dry hay, igniting it with a waft of black smoke.

Jumping in surprise, Leland hopped to his feet and started stomping the smolders.

Despite the embarrassment, he held his head high. It was ridiculous, but casting a cantrip brought a smile to his face.

What else can I do? he asked himself, sitting back down and getting to work.

As lunch neared, Leland had successfully cast multiple cantrips. He started with Glow, which was just as it sounded. He could make his finger glow with the light of a weak lantern. Next he tried Drop of Life which created a single drop of water at an interval that would fill a canteen in half-a-day. While not always useful, if the need arose, he was glad to know how to cast it.

It was around this time that Leland started wondering about lifeforce. It was obvious the resource was tied to him, meaning his stamina. If he used too much, then he’d suffer headaches and possibly pass out. Was it possible to harm himself worse than that? He didn’t know, but that was a question he wasn’t willing to test.

Instead he watched the water of Drop of Life fall from his fingertip. Technically he used part of his life to create such a liquid. Did that change anything about it?

Could… could this water have my lifeforce in it? he wondered. With the question in mind, he began to fill up his canteen while dreams of on demand healing potions filled his mind.

He left his corner of the town, heading back to the inn. He found Glenny and a smiling Jude already eating.

“Couldn’t wait for me?” Leland asked in a mocking tone.

They each gave him an impish look.

After ordering, Leland pulled out his grimoire and checked if his studying of cantrips changed anything. He went straight to the last page, finding it significantly more skewed than before. He couldn’t make out any of the words, only the last few letters in each line.

“I might be on the right track,” he told his friends.

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