The Force of Magic Ep. 1

Episode 1: Trace

What has been will be again, what has been done will be done again; there is nothing new under the sun.

The Book of Ecclesiastes 1:9

Everyday was the same for as long as Trace Holden could remember. He never left his cell. They never released him from the chains that held him to the wall. For months on end, they brought him enough food to keep him alive, emptied the bucket that held his waste and used leeches to collect his blood. No one ever spoke to him and he knew that he was slowly going insane.

It started when word went out to all those serving in the Dominion’s military service that they could gain early release if they were willing to “volunteer” for a special project with the Guild of the Helm. Everyone feared the Guild, ruthless magic users who served to keep the Dominion in power, and especially the Dark Brotherhood, their private guard of personal enforcers. Trace knew whatever he was volunteering for would likely be awful, but he was desperate to finish his service and return to his farm.

He avoided joining the mandatory military service of the Dominion by hiding out whenever the recruitment regiment visited their province. He cared for the farm alongside his mom for 12 years, since his dad died when he was 13 and she needed his help. She couldn’t do it on her own. So, instead of turning himself in at 16, as required by law, he began a cat and mouse game with the authorities, whenever they would visit their area.

Unfortunately, they surprised him the day after his 25th birthday. Desperate for new recruits, the soldiery began offering rewards for any who might give them information about people like Trace. He had no idea who it was who betrayed them, but they showed up in force, without warning, to their farm and immediately drug him away. That must have been close to a year ago, and was the last time he saw his mother.

He served for about 6 months when the offer for potential early release came. Normally, the mandatory service could be around 3-5 years, depending on the military needs of the Dominion at the time. There was no way he could be away that long.

Upon volunteering, he and the other soldiers were brought to Darkholm Keep, the home of the Guild of the Helm. At first, it seemed that they would be treated fairly. They were poked and prodded, measured and asked many questions about their families. After that, they were divided into groups and some of them were sent back to their regiments, saying they didn’t qualify. Trace felt lucky to still have a chance, but he felt far from lucky now.

The Guild were sorcerers and alchemists. They had magic, of a sort. They used their powers to give the Dominion every advantage in battle, often leveling the majority of an enemy army before they could even crash a sword against a Dominion soldier. Trace was grateful to have them on his side in the few battles he had been involved in, but their reputation was pure evil. No one knew for sure how they were able to do what they did, but every tale about them was grounded in the deepest darkness.

Trace was given different things to drink, after which they always locked him in a cell, “for his own safety,” they said. Mostly the foul tasting liquids they gave him had just made him very ill, but some seemed to have no effect at all, but then one day, they gave him one that looked like liquid fire, glowing in the dark laboratory.

Shortly after drinking it, he began to feel very disoriented, then very sleepy. He could hardly make it to the cell they led him to without leaning on the Brotherhood guards who escorted him. When he finally woke up, he felt like he slept for eons, but he had never felt so strong and healthy. He rose up from the cot and stretched out, wondering how long he slept. He felt strong, but also famished.

Trace walked to the door to knock on it and let them know he was awake and in need of some sustenance. He was used to giving it a good solid rap in order for them to hear him through the thick wood, but this time Trace was shocked when he completely knocked the door off its hinges. He couldn’t believe it! His first thought was that something must have been wrong with the door, but when the guard ran up he could tell by the look that he gave him that the door breaking had more to do with Trace than the door.

The guard ordered him to wait in the room and said they would bring him food shortly. Trace, who still hoped to gain his early release, was eager to follow their instructions. He walked around the room to loosen up his limbs. He glanced down at his knuckles, sure that they must have been bloodied by hitting the door so hard and was shocked again to see nothing but a few light scraps that remarkably, were healing before his very eyes.

Something was truly different about him after the last elixir. He felt like he could march all day. For the next few hours, Trace noticed several guards outside of his room. It seemed like there were never less than 3. They brought him food and mead to drink as normal. Hours later, one of the Guild came to see him.

“How are you, how are you feeling?” he asked.

“I’ve never felt better, stronger. I don’t know what you gave me, but you should give that to every one of your soldiers,” Trace said.

“Everyone responds...differently. Most don’t have a positive reaction,” he said. He gestured to one of the soldiers, who brought in a long bar made of some kind of metal. “Here, see if you can bend this.”

Trace took the thick metal rod, easily an inch thick and felt the cold of it against his palms. It felt solid, perhaps iron. He meant to put only a slight pressure to test it, but as soon as he flexed his wrists, he felt it start to give and he bent it easily into a tight curve. Trace was always strong from working hard on the farm, but this was ridiculous. He bent it as if it were a thin wire.

“Remarkable. We need to do some tests, my guards will escort you to a new cell,” the Guild member said.

“Seems like your experiment was a success, I guess I’ll be going home soon,” Trace said.

“Maybe, we’ll see,” the man said.

Trace didn’t like the sound of that. Sure enough, that day was the first of many where they did various tests. The next day they started to collect his blood using leeches. That creeped Trace out, but it was shocking how whenever they removed the leeches, his skin healed almost immediately. No matter what they did, Trace continued to feel more healthy than ever before. It was on the fifth day after taking the last elixir that a new Guild member came to see him.

This man was the tallest member of the Guild Trace had ever seen, and one of the tallest humans he could remember, but very thin. He wore robes that were as black as night and everything about him seemed to radiate evil. Trace was immediately uncomfortable.

“Good day, my name is Karven, I’m in charge of this Keep. I must say, we are very encouraged with your results, soldier. You are doing a great service for the Dominion and the Overlord,” Karven said.

“Thank you, that’s great, but the whole reason I volunteered was to go home to the farm earlier, when will I be able to go?” Trace asked.

“Soon, I think. You are providing an invaluable contribution, and we don’t take it lightly,” Karven said. With that, Karven reached into the depths of his robe and drew out a very small vial. “I need you to take this now.”

“I’m not so sure I want to take anything else. I feel great, I don’t want to mess that up,” Trace said.

“If you want to be released, you need to do what I say!” Karven said.

Trace debated resisting or arguing with him, but he still hoped that they would release him as promised. He took the vial from Karven and downed the liquid in one big swallow. He didn’t feel anything at first, but within a minute he felt all the strength drain out of him. He stumbled to his knees and Karven gave a signal to the Brotherhood guards, standing by the door. They rushed in to grab Trace. He tried to resist, but his great strength was gone. Two guards held him while another one wrapped a hood over his head. He felt weak and sick and rough hands encircled all of his limbs, as they lifted him from the floor and carried him. The hood was tight and he was slowly losing consciousness. The last thing he remembered was being carried down, what must have been deep in the Keep.

When he next awoke it was in a dark cell with no windows. There was no bed, only thick chains of some strange metal, attached to the stone wall. That room had been his home now for many months. Twice he had seen Karven again, but he never spoke to Trace, nor did the other members of the Guild and Brotherhood when they came to visit. Occasionally, he briefly felt a surge of strength again, but never like before and never enough to break the thick manacles or pull them out of the wall.

He should have known better than to trust the Guild. He had failed his mother and every day a little bit more of his hope died. He was forgotten, left to rot in this hellhole, nothing more than an animal in a cage for the Guild to experiment on until he finally died from abuse or despair. He wondered if there were others like him...