The Spell-Stealer

It was all the same.

As Rubick walked toward the edge, he wondered what was wrong in his life. He had it all, and lacked for nothing. But as day after boring day drew by, the arcane mage became increasingly aware of an emptiness in his life. It had not been much of a bother at first, but now he could no longer ignore the humming of dissatisfaction that he felt, echoing at the very base of his soul.

He looked out across the balcony. Far, far below him, the light of several houses twinkled in the distance. The building he stood on was the tallest, and grandest in the city; it was, after all, owned by him. He would suffer for nothing less than the best. But even the grandeur of his everyday life seemed mundane now, and not even the wondrous trappings of his household could take away the ache that gnawed at him. Rubick sighed, and made a gesture of command, almost negligently.

Behind him, his would-be assassin moved. The man was struggling in panic, gibbering in terror; truly, he had no sense of style at all. Rubick was disgusted by him. In his mind's eye, he pictured the man floating, high above the city, suspended by nothing but the mage's powers of telekinesis. He willed the image to life. The assassin, all shrouded in black, was nearly invisible against the night sky, save for the cries for mercy and the frantic kicking as he struggled against his invisible bonds. Pathetic.

As Rubick turned away from the wretched sight, he let go of his mental grip. A cry of despair followed the spellcaster as he walked away from the balcony, back toward his room. It was not long before the cry was cut off abruptly with a crash, and all was still once again. Rubick sighed. The twelfth, he counted silently to himself. All of them had been the same. The silent stalking in the day, the watchful eyes that followed him everywhere, the slow wait till dark, the blade that flashed in the moonlight after he had retired, the downward plunge that sought blood.

Except that blood was never shed.

It had thrilled him, at first. That people would deem him worthy of killing had been a heady pleasure, even as he force-choked his attempted murderer to death. It grew tiresome, however, after the third attempt; by the fourth, he was wondering if they were trying at all. But when the sixth had proven to be an assassin of some skill and renown, he began to wonder if it was not just him that was too powerful for the world's own good.

The seventh had been somewhat of an interest, the first of them to ever consider using the arcane arts against him. The killer himself had no true magic, relying on the rare and expensive Illusion's Dust to confound him. It almost worked too, had Rubick not been immersing himself in the same substance in the day's experiments, and therefore was more sensitive to the dust's use. Still, it brought a momentary rush to the mage, that an adversary would bring him any degree of challenge at all.

Rubick sat down at his table, a magnificently-carved piece, the finest gold could buy. He pulled a piece of parchment closer to him, something he had written months ago but had never dared to send. He looked at it again, reading it word for word, making sure no mistake could be derived from its contents. He had started this project right after the eighth assassination attempt, researching the target's magical prowess, his habits, his strengths, his weaknesses. The arcanist had selected his target carefully, and was certain he could best him in battle. But one could never be certain.

The target was a Magus, after all.

The title 'Magus' was given to none but the best of their craft. Only those who could cast the most powerful of spells was granted the honour by the Council itself. The very presence of the Council was one not widely known, yet the title Magus was always revered and honoured before all else. The first Magus was said to be a Guardian, he who the elements themselves raged at his call and beck. The meaning of 'Guardian' had been lost in the centuries, but the title 'Magus' was not.

Rubick wanted the thrill of battle again, wished to feel the adrenaline rush pulse through his veins once more. In a split second's decision, he picked up the letter of challenge he had painstakingly written, and gathered his will. The parchment glowed green, then darkened, and in a flash it was gone. Rubick clasped his hands together, savouring this one moment, wanting to remember this feeling of fearful anticipation. Then he pushed his chair back and stood. He had to prepare.

As dawn broke, Rubick stood at his balcony again, watching the sun rise. A bird squawked in the distance, breaking the chill silence. From within the heavy robe he wore, he drew forth his combat mask; it had been many years since he had last worn it. He put it on, and focused his mind again. The same bird squawked once more, and Rubick vanished.

When he re-materialized on the mortal plane, a lush green field surrounded Rubick. He looked around, taking in the sight; he remembered the laughter of children, joyfully tumbling in the grass. He knew this land; he had grown up in a village near here. A village that was now gone, forgotten in history's embrace. He closed his eyes, remembering.

"So."

Rubick's eyes snapped open. Before him stood a man who looked no older than thirty, yet Rubick knew that his true age far exceeded that number. He wore a robe which was similar to Rubick's, but a dark, rich green in the color of his element, the Earth. Power pulsed around the man; there was no mistaking his intent. It brought a chill to Rubick's spine, and the hackles on his neck began to stand.

"So," the man repeated himself, "You would kill a Magus. As would a great deal of other young, foolish mages, but none have succeeded. And what makes you think you will?"

Rubick made no reply. His mind was working frantically, thinking back through all the battle plans he had made, mentally walking through each step.

"I have heard the rumours," he continued. "The unbeatable Rubick. The man with many enemies, yet none of them have managed to kill you. Yet. And that fame has grown to your head, I presume. For why else would an intelligent man such as yourself attempt the impossible?"

"I would hardly classify what I'm doing as 'impossible', Magus Gevils."

"Ah! You would call me Magus, would you?" Gevils laughed, but the laughter did not quite reach his eyes. Rubick smiled behind his mask, and simply shrugged. Gevils' laughter subsided.

"Yes, you would call me Magus, but yet you would kill me. Oh lad, you presume too much of yourself! Go back, my boy. You do not need to die this day."

Rubick shook his head slowly. "I have not come to run away, old man. I come to claim your title."

Gevils sighed deeply. "I tried to warn you, my boy. I gave you fair chance to turn around and save yourself. That you will not, saddens me. Tell me. Of all the mages that have threatened to kill a Magus, none of succeeded. Why do you think that is so?" Rubick kept silent. Sensing no reply, his adversary began to pace. "Is it because none have yet attained the power that we, as Magus possess? Is it due to their lack of experience, the sense one hones only on the battlefield? Or perhaps it is due to their own rash decisions in battle, that lead to their downfall? Why, it might easily be any of these. For you see, our challengers have always been the young and foolhardy." The Magus stopped abruptly.

"But perhaps, it is also because when you challenge one of us, you challenge us all."

The air around Gevils began to shimmer, and one by one other people popped into existence. Rubick's senses peaked; as each new enemy appeared, power fell around him like undulating waves. When the last man appeared, fully seven opponents stood, staring at him gravely.

"Well, young Rubick? Will you yet turn tail and flee? For we will not strike you should you embrace the course of wisdom," Gevils asked.

Rubick gripped his arcane staff tighter, saying words he felt, yet feared to say at the same time.

"Bring it."

Before he knew what was happening, Rubick was surrounded by an intense wall of flame, encircling him and choking him with smoke. He whirled quickly, but the flames extended all the way around him, giving him no course of escape. His magical senses tingled, and he glanced up; above him, a giant spear of ice was falling, gathering in size as it went. He concentrated quickly, and for an instant the enormous icicle froze in place. He could not see his enemies, and the massive weight of the obstacle weight on his mind. Choosing the location where he last saw the Magi, he brought the large ice block crashing down.

The flames died, and Rubick ran for it, hoping the smoke would give him cover. Roots burst from the ground where he stood only moments before, seeking to crush the life out of anything they caught. He reached the edge of the smokescreen, and saw Gevils with his hands on the ground, shouting that he had missed the target and warning the others to be ready. The other Magi had fanned out in a circle, their eyes scanning for the wizard. Rubick knew then what he had to do. It was a nasty little tactic, but for some reason it pleased him.

He focused his will on Gevils, and stealthily invaded the Magus' mind. As he thought, the framework of the roots spell the Earth Magus had just cast was still easily in reach. He studied it, remembering how it was casted, and quickly memorized how to cast it. At that moment, a shout to his left brought his attention; whipping about, a man was gathering lightning in his fist. He dove quickly to the side, narrowly avoiding the bolt of lightning magic, and quickly cast a magic bolt of his own. As his own magic struck his target, he twisted the image of the bolt in his mind's eye, and the arcane missile leaped again to the Magus next to the first. Both men shouted in surprise, and were blasted on their backs.

The next moment, a projectile hit Rubick. His heavy robe absorbed most of the impact, but it still sent him stumbling back several feet. He looked in the direction of the attack, only to get another hit right in the face; the missile exploded, and for an instant he expected to be burned before he realized that it was a ball of compressed water which had hit him. His combat mask took most of the hit, but he went down on his knees anyway. The woman who had casted the Aqua Bomb was gathering more water into both hands, forming a bomb easily twice as large as the ones before. This was the killing blow, Rubick suddenly knew.

Quickly, Rubick brought both hands to the ground as if to support himself while calling the Roots spell to his mind. As the woman raised her hands above her head to hurl the deadly bomb at Rubick, roots burst from the ground and entwined her body. One snaked up and grabbed her arm; she shouted in shock, but the momentum of the spell was too much to stop. Rubick brought his focus on the one tendril that had ensnared her arm, and jerked it toward her left; the ball of water went hurtling, wide of the Magus' intended target but spot on Rubick's.

As the ball exploded, the twin cries told Rubick that he had succeeded even before he turned to look at it. The two men he had injured earlier had taken the brunt of the woman's attack. The Thunder Magus cradled a broken arm, while the other lay unmoving on the grass. Behind him, the woman sought desperately to free herself. Rubick turned to her and tightened the noose around her neck, hoping to crush her windpipe-

-and ducked just in time to dodge a punch from Gevils. The air pressure from the blow was impressive, Rubick silently noted; it was a punch that would have knocked his head clean off his shoulders if he had not seen it coming. As the punch flew past, Rubick saw that he had encased himself in stone. Gevils swung again, but Rubick was ready for it this time; he caught the punch in his mind's net, and sent Gevils hurtling aside. Turning, he saw a man seeking to free the woman he had caught with what looked like a wind blade. Rubick's mind extended toward the man, but before he could do anything, he found himself once again sealed off in a ring of fire. This time, however, the fire rapidly closed around the wizard.

Rubick quickly changed his mind's target, and invaded the woman's thoughts instead. He found the framework of the Aqua Bomb with ease, and started gathering power as soon as he had memorized it. Tossing his bomb toward one side of the ring, he ran even before it had touched the ground; the bomb exploded and Rubick dove through the gap just as a hail of icicles pierced through flames. There was an angry shout.

"What in the Maker's name are you doing, Malcora? That was your Aqua Bomb, I saw it happen!"

"What are you talking about? I did no such thing!"

"I know what I saw!"

Rubick grinned to himself as he came to his feet. In his peripheral vision, he saw the now-freed Malcora arguing heatedly with two others; he could only surmise that they had been responsible for the ice and fire. Looking up, Gevils was once again on his knees, bringing his hands to the floor. Rubick dove again to avoid the seeking tendrils, and himself cast the same Roots spell, this time targeting Fire and Ice. As the snaking roots shot forth, the two gave angry cries of shock.

"This is betrayal!"

"We won't stand for this!"

An armour of fire formed around one of the two, and the roots abruptly froze on the other; frozen and burned, the roots fell away. Rubick stood quickly, readying his shields for another onslaught of magical power, but the two instead turned on Gevils. Gevils cried out as he found himself suddenly encased in fire, and quickly hardened himself; but as he was about to burst out from the ring, the Ice Magus had finally found its target. Long slivers of ice protruded suddenly from Gevils' feet, piercing through the stone and drawing blood, embedding themselves deep within the earth.

"What are you two doing?! Have you gone mad?!" Gevils roared as he fell backward. The Magi of fire and ice suddenly looked aghast, shocked at what they'd done, but Rubick had no time for them. Pushing his mind into the Thunder Magus' broken thoughts, Rubick pushed past the waves of pain in his head and found the Thunderbolt spell that had been casted on him earlier. With all the Magi bickering amongst themselves, Rubick found adequate time to charge both fists in electricity before they noticed him. Fire and Ice both cried out in pain as Rubick sent the lethal bolts flying toward their backs, and they fell as one.

Realizing too late what was happening, the woman named Malcora and the last Magus placed their attention on Rubick. A strong wind buffeted Rubick, immobilizing him while Malcora began to cast, but Rubick's spell was already flying. The same bolt of magical energy he had cast earlier streaked through the air and struck both Magi, the force of it tossing them backward as if they were rag dolls. Placing both hands on the ground, Rubick summoned once again the Roots spell, and as he turned away, the sound of crushing bones and cries of pain filled the air, the former carrying on long after the latter had ceased.

The Thunder Magus was still on the ground, moaning and cradling his broken arm, when he found himself suddenly being lifted into the air. He began to gibber in panic, and magical energy formed around him, thrashing against the invisible bonds that held him. In Rubick's mind, he pictured the man being slammed on the ground, and willed it to be so. Thunder's cries for mercy were abruptly silenced as he was brought head-first to the ground.

The whole battle had not lasted five minutes, yet Rubick was nearly spent of both mana and physique. Still, it wasn't over yet. Rubick turned, and loomed over the struggling Gevils, who was still trying to remove the icicles from his feet. As Rubick approached, Gevils gave up on that, and painfully stood. The two men stared at each other for a while. Finally, Gevils spoke.

"So. You would kill a Magus."

"It seems I have killed several."

"So it does. Tell me, how does that feel?"

Rubick kept silent. He simply stood, remembering every bit of the battle. Adrenaline pulsed through his veins, and he heard everything through a muffled barrier. His magical senses still tingled, and his breath came hard and fast. Sifting his memories, Rubick found the spell he had been looking for. As he began to charge his Aqua Bomb in two hands as he had seen Water do, Rubick answered.

"Exhilarating."

Rubick stood in a dark hall, surrounded by darkness. Above him, eleven lights shone on silhouttes against the light. The room was chill, but Rubick was flushed warm from triumph. It was a week after the battle, yet he could still remember everything that had happened as if it had happened five minutes ago. The shadow in the middle was saying something, but Rubick had lost track of what he had been saying long ago. Instead he closed his eyes and submersed himself in the memories of the battle, reliving the excitement and rush over and over again.

He snapped to attention as he heard his name being called. "Yes," he answered. The figure spoke.

"You are now a Magus, and you shall be the Spell-Stealer, enemy of all that is arcane."

As the Magus materialized back in his room, he looked around. It would all have to be re-decorated, of course, to something befitting his new title. He prowled through the building, making mental notes of what to purchase and where-

Rubick cocked his head. A nagging thought kept pushing at his mind, almost as if there was a telepathic link, but not quite. He opened his mind cautiously to it. A forest glade, a beautiful place of greenery and life, and at its center a wondrous stone of power. It drew him, called to him, and he could sense its urgency and its need. It was in danger, he knew, and the foes that it faced were nothing like that he had faced in his past. Rubick knew, also, that the excitement he sought, the thrill of a life and death battle could be found there. That was all the enticement he needed.

Donning his battle cloak and mask, Rubick walked to his balcony once more. Staring out in the distance, his mind flew far and wide, searching for the glade he had been shown. It was not long before he found it, and once again Rubick focused his energies.

The Spell-Stealer answered the call.

Author's Note: This was written based on a whim. I was reading the DotA 2 biographies when I suddenly felt like expanding it. I do not know if I will write more of this stuff, because classes are starting and all, but if I ever get the inspiration to again, I will. See ya.