by V. St. Clair
So Aleric, still plagued by his father’s prophetic dream (and he was absolutely convinced that what his father had heard was real), had gone to Torin in the hope of getting his own magical potential gauged, to make absolutely sure he was capable of becoming the hero his father said he must be. He hadn’t told Torin about the dream: it was something too private and personal to reveal to anyone else. It had been the first time his father ever confided in him like that, and he enjoyed being privy to a secret that no one else knew.
Torin had reluctantly allowed him to test his potential, though he said he generally avoided giving students the chance to see their own limitations. He said something about how it was bad to know where you lacked skill, because then you would be more inclined to give up working in those areas and would suffer because of it. He seemed to trust that Aleric had more altruistic intentions in mind, and simply wanted to know if he was capable of performing a specific bit of magic or not.
So Aleric had held the potentiometer needle in sweating hands, watching as the array of colors flashed across the clear crystal orb that Torin held. He personally had no idea how to interpret the findings, so he didn’t know at first how he was doing. The orb had turned orange and stayed that way for a long time before flickering to yellow and green, skipping red entirely. Then came blue for the briefest moment, and then pink and white.
“Well?” he’d asked Torin after the colors stopped flashing, because the man had just been standing there, staring thoughtfully at the orb even after the test ended. “How did I do?”
Torin shrugged and said, “About as well as expected, given that you are human.” Aleric must have made a face at that because he added, “I don’t test humans very often, and magical familiars are enormously more powerful, so I have a skewed sense of what ‘good’ and ‘bad’ look like on this thing. I wasn’t trying to imply that you are lacking in any way, magically.”
Aleric conceded the point, because his powers would look like nothing next to Cinder’s or Bonk’s.
“Okay, well…for a human, how did I do?” he asked again.
“Pretty well, I would say. You’ve got a respectable amount of Source power…actually, a bit more than normal, which probably comes as no surprise to you. Your spread of capabilities is typical: earth-based magic, creationary, unbinding, and healing all looked fine; optical translation is higher than normal, but it always is in prism-users or you wouldn’t be able to interpret light as magic; intuition and perception are a little below average, but that only means you have to work a bit harder at mastering new concepts than someone who ranks higher in those areas.”
Aleric frowned, a pit of dread forming in his stomach at the knowledge that he was deficient in some areas. He couldn’t afford to be subnormal in any aspect of magic; he had to be the best, or he wouldn’t be able to do what his father said he needed to do. None of the great magical heroes that had statues around the Nine Lands got that way by being average.
“My intuition and perception are lower than normal?” he asked, ashamed of himself for lacking in the two areas. He would have to make sure no one else ever learned of it, or he’d be a laughingstock and his father really would consider him the shame of the family.
“It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” Torin assured him. “All mages have areas of strength and weakness. I’ve never tested anyone who rated high in every possible category, or even registered in every category.”
“What do you mean?” Aleric prodded. “You mean there are capabilities I don’t even possess at all?” he asked in horror. This day was just getting worse and worse…
“There are aspects of magic that no human—or almost no human—has ever possessed,” Torin continued calmly. “Just like dogs can smell in a way that humans are incapable of, other magical creatures possess extra senses that we—by design—lack.”
“Like what?” Aleric asked, curious.
“Auditory translation, for one. Most magical creatures have a perfect ability to translate and interpret any language from birth, which is why they always seem to understand what you are saying when you speak to them.”
Aleric raised his eyebrows, impressed and momentarily diverted from his own failings. He had never really considered before how the familiars here seemed to always understand him. It’s not like Torin stands around teaching them Common, or any of the other languages, so I suppose it makes sense…
“What else?” he asked with interest.
“Oh, all kinds of things…the ability to interpret raw magic in any form, which requires total mental instability in a human being for even a fraction of that capacity. Transformational magic, translocational powers, space and time manipulation for some of them…the list goes on. Some creatures are more adept in some areas than others, and a very rare few possess the full spectra of magical capabilities.”
“Is Bonk one of those rare finds?” Aleric probed curiously.
“Indeed, he is,” Torin confirmed. “He is probably the most powerful creature I have ever encountered, which is perhaps why he is also so odd. I’ve always found that the more powerful human mages also tended to be quirky in their own way; the price of brilliance, as they say.”
Aleric wondered whether people considered him to be odd, and if he should develop an affectation of some sort in the hopes of making himself more powerful.
“Okay, so I’m lacking in perception and intuition, which means I have to work harder for things than other mages do,” he brought the topic back around to himself. “I suppose Asher is excellent in both of the aforementioned areas?”
Torin frowned and said, “I’ve never tested him, nor would I want to. As I said, I think people tend to be self-limiting when they are told they can’t do something as well as they’d like. But yes, I expect Asher would register very high in those particular areas; he’s always been the creative, intuitive sort.”
Aleric frowned thoughtfully and said, “So looking at my magical profile, do you think that I’m above average for magical talent and ability?”
Looking slightly alarmed by the question, Torin said, “Certainly, yes, you tested quite well overall, particularly with your larger-than-average Source.”
Aleric exhaled in some relief over that. Still, he felt compelled to add, “Would you say I’m the best you’ve ever seen on that thing? For a human, of course.”
Torin became suddenly shrewd and said, “Why do you ask?”
“I was just curious,” Aleric lied.
“No, you aren’t,” Torin called him on the lie, reminding Aleric of Asher with his frankness. “You’re asking these questions for a very specific reason, and I want to know what it is. If you don’t want to tell me, that’s your right, but don’t attempt to lie to me.”
Stunned, Aleric said, “I’m sorry, but it’s quite personal and I don’t want to talk about it. You’re right though, I should have just said so instead of prevaricating.”
“Well, I respect your right to keep your own counsel, but I also refuse to keep answering your questions unless you give me more information. So unless there is anything else…”
At that point, Asher had burst into the room with his good news, and all thoughts of Aleric’s questions about his magical potential had been forgotten by Torin. Now Aleric was scarcely better off than when he was last in this room, studying the neat arrangement of papers around his worktable, most of them covered in his own handwritten notes.
So I’m lacking in the two areas that would be really helpful to me right now for this research project…
It figured. If he was more intuitive about magic, like Asher, he would have the creativity he needed to figure this problem out.
I’m being too hard on myself. Torin never said I couldn’t figure this out, just that I would have to try harder.
It wasn’t like he didn’t have experience working his butt off to get something he wanted. He had been slaving over his schoolwork for the last six years, while his friend sailed through it with comparative ease, and who was current
ly on top of the charts for the challenge arenas and combat lessons? Him, Aleric Frost, the one who was supposed to be naturally worse than his best friend at it. It was proof that effort counted more than innate talent.
He also said that my Source was larger than average.
This was excellent news, and probably more important than perception and intuition combined, since he could work around those failings with effort. As far as he knew, there was nothing one could do to expand their Source power. It would be like trying to make oneself three-feet taller; you were generally stuck with what genetics gave you.
And Source power was arguably the most important part of being a mage. The power of his spells, his ability to use Charms and cast at the same time, his stamina during combat, all of that was directly linked to the size and power of his magical Source. That was what he would truly need in order to defeat whatever great evil was headed this way.
It still bothered him that he couldn’t figure out what such a malicious force would be, though he’d had a few ideas. Perhaps some new super-monster was being born, the likes of which the world had never seen, and it was bent on destroying everyone…
Or, more likely, the northern sorcerers were planning to cross the ocean and attack them once more; it tended to happen every few decades when their northern counterparts got to feeling expansionist. Maybe this time they would succeed; southern mages knew nothing of the sorcerers’ blood magic, so it was hard to say what they were capable of by now. Maybe he would be needed in the war to keep them from taking over the Nine Lands completely. That seemed more likely.
Maybe I should abandon my research and focus more on combat magic and getting ready for a fight.
He doubted that his father would agree with the idea, especially because it would waste the remainder of his year at school. He supposed he could drop out of Mizzenwald halfway through the year, but that would be seen as a failure of sorts, and everyone he knew would perceive it that way. Besides, he couldn’t bear the prospect of leaving school half a year sooner than expected. Better to use the remaining time to make as much progress as possible with his research before turning his attention elsewhere.
Besides, if the Magic had gone to the exorbitant effort of communicating with Cowen Frost, a magicless man, in his dreams about how Aleric was the chosen one for this task, then surely it meant that he should trust his own instincts. If he thought he should focus on his research right now, then that must be the right thing to do, or else someone else would have been named the one to save the world.
Aleric relaxed, regaining his focus at last. He didn’t have time for self-doubt or second-guesses; he had to assume that what he was doing was right, and to keep moving forward until he reached his goals.
I can never look back. I can never question or doubt. Forward is the only direction.
Nodding to himself in satisfaction, he turned back to his books and continued reading with renewed energy.
After three more hours of this, it was hard for even his renewed dedication to keep him from thinking that the entire endeavor was hopeless. He’d spent days on this and made absolutely no progress whatsoever, and he couldn’t see how tomorrow would be any different.
I should ask Asher for more advice. His guess about the orange and blue compound was the closest I came to making any actual progress. He probably has another idea by now.
With his friend finishing up his own research project, he would certainly have more time to help Aleric with his, at least until he chose a new topic. Even if Aleric had to share credit with him, it was a small price to pay for the possible reward, and besides, if Aleric was truly trying to become the best mage he could be, he should be having his friend coach him nightly to try and help him get past his magical shortcomings.
The memory of Asher, flush with victory and embracing his father came back to Aleric then, dousing his enthusiasm for the idea. Asher had just achieved an enormous victory, and soon the whole school would be talking about how incredible he was, while every notable mage in the Nine Lands scrambled to make sure they knew him. He would receive offers for collaboration efforts like Aleric had, right after his work with Master Sark on the Law of Transversion. Was he content to be one of those mages who clamored for his newly-famous friend’s attention to get help on his own assignment?
There was still too much pride in him for that. He wasn’t that desperate…yet. He decided that if he couldn’t figure something out before summer break, he would cave and ask his friend to help him out. That gave him a few more weeks to convince himself he had made some tangible progress.
Aleric reflected on their last conversation about his work, hoping to glean some fresh inspiration from his friend’s words.
“You need something with perfect transference to pull off what you’re trying to do, which means either white or black.”
He needed to find either a white or black modifier if he had a hope of pulling off a spell this complex: white implied perfect reflection, and black would give total absorption of light. Both were considered perfect modifiers, though white was rarely seen in prisms and black was almost unheard of outside of legend and myth.
Even if he managed to find an alignment with white—and he was provisionally convinced he could manage it with time and effort—the real problem was going to be diffusion. Once Asher published his text on how he got around the problem of wide-band diffusion in underwater casting, that would doubtless make Aleric’s own problem much easier…though he would technically owe royalties to his friend for using his work as the basis of his own research.
He thought back to his conversation with Asher once more, when he had said, “Ideally, what I need to find is a series of wide bands that behave like narrow ones, or vice versa.”
“Short of using a broken prism, I don’t see how you’re going to manage that,” Asher had answered with an eye roll.
Aleric frowned. His friend had offered the advice as a throwaway comment, since they both knew that it was impractical and illegal to use an imperfect prism. It had been the first lesson they had received on their very first day of Prisms at the age of ten. Mage-quality prisms had to be crafted by certified jewelers, who were capable of producing flawless instruments. Since using a prism opened a direct link between the brain of the mage and the magic of the world, channeling through a prism was the mage’s way of directly imposing their will upon the world. With all magic, a certain amount of tangential magical spillage—magical backlash, in essence—occurred, increasing with the power and complexity of the spell. Master Antwar had explained to them at the time that TMS could be thought of as the world “pushing back” against the mage who was trying to exert his will upon it. Usually the effects were minor and easily accounted for, or it would be impossible to channel magic at all. But to use an imperfect prism—or a broken prism, as some people preferred to call it—was to see the world through a distorted perspective, a flawed one. Attempting to channel one’s will through a distortion caused a proportionally higher amount of TMS to occur. When skewed, distorted magic was reflected back on the caster, the effects were said to be devastating, crippling, and permanent. It could drive a person insane, or break their mind completely, or render them incapable of using magic anymore…
So they were told. Since it was highly illegal to even be caught in possession of an imperfect prism, let alone using one, it wasn’t like Aleric had ever heard of a person actually suffering its effects before. As far as he knew, no one alive knew anyone who dabbled with imperfect prisms, which made Aleric wonder if no one had ever really attempted it in the last hundred years or so, or if the side-effects weren’t as bad as everyone claimed. Maybe tons of people were using them in secret to amplify their own powers and they just weren’t telling anyone about it…
It was said that imperfect prisms could yield much greater powers than typical ones, due to the same distortion that made them (allegedly) dangerous. Skewed bands of color meant that problems like diffusion could be worked around easily, as l
ong as one possessed a prism with the right amount of skew to counter it.
Still, the punishment for being caught using one was to be locked in Binders for life. Thick bands of lead around the wrists prevented any and all magic from being channeled through the Foci, and clamped down on Source power as well. He would effectively be forced to live as a magicless person—a commoner—for the rest of his life. Worse than a commoner, in some ways, because the Binders were a brand of shame that any mage he met would recognize on sight, and they would sneer at him for earning such a hideous punishment.
No, it wasn’t worth the price to acquire an imperfect prism and attempt to use it for his research, though he was increasingly confident in his ability to retain an undistorted view of the world, even after using a flawed instrument. It would be interesting to look through one though, just to see what alignments were there, even if he never planned to actually to use it…
That was a pointless thought. He would have to take a perfect prism and cut it himself to get the distortion, and then he’d have to destroy it so thoroughly that no one could ever figure out what he had done, even if they were looking for such a thing, because he refused to be confined to Binders for the rest of his life due to idle curiosity.
Aleric shook his head and closed his book. He needed a break from research for the night or he really was going to go nuts. He would think on the problem some more tonight and come back to it with a fresh outlook tomorrow after classes, and if things didn’t look up in the next few weeks, he would swallow his pride and ask his best friend how he had managed to bypass the problem of wide-band diffusion.
Heck, if his friend was feeling generous, he might not even charge him royalties for the advice…
Aleric sighed and left the workroom, turning the mage-lamp off and shutting and warding the door behind him.
