Obediently, streams of my mana darted eagerly out of my centre, then stuttered, seeming to pool in confusion before dissipating into the ground.
You have failed to create a spell. Mana lost.
I hadn’t really expected to succeed on my first attempt, yet I couldn’t stop an involuntary sigh of disappointment. I considered the remnants of the failed spell that still glowed in my magesight.
Given no further direction than my order to heal, my mana had chosen a shape and form of its own volition. I knew from the wiki that using magic was not akin to employing a tool.
Magic was a living thing, and mana sometimes followed, not the will of its wielder, but its own. If the wiki was to be trusted, magic could be said to have a mind of its own, albeit of the crude and primitive kind. Studying the form and shape of the spellcasting hovering in my magesight, I could well believe it.
In an attempt to fulfil my will, my magic had formed into a complex lattice, far beyond anything I had envisioned with my simple order to heal. While the spellform appeared off-kilter, it was nearly correct. Or so my Trials-gifted understanding of life magic led me to believe.
Narrowing my focus, I traced each weft and weave of the spell, trying to identify its points of weakness. Some filaments of mana seemed more out of place than others, and in my mind’s eye, I adjusted the structure.
I had little idea whether the changes I made would better or worsen the design, but given my lack of more definitive information, spellcrafting by trial and error was the only approach available to me.
When I was satisfied with my changes, I drew on my mana again and willed the altered spellform into being.
The spell fizzled.
But even in my failure, I had learned something. After scrutinising the spell construct, I saw where I had gone wrong. Gathering my will, I began anew.
And failed again.
Ten attempts later, I finally succeeded as mana darted out of my body and coated my hands in a subdued blue-white glow.
You have spellcrafted a: touch-based healing spell, from the Discipline of: life magic. The name assigned to this spell is: lay hands. Its casting time is: fast and its rank is: common.
Your channelling and spellpower have increased to: level 2. Spell rating unlocked.
I did it! My face broke out in a wide grin. I can’t believe I actually did it!
Holding up my glowing hands, I stared at them, transfixed. Even witnessing the evidence of my magic, I could hardly believe it. I am a mage now, I marvelled. Only a fledgling one, but a mage nevertheless.
When I had my fill of self-indulgence, I touched my mana-infused hands to my left shoulder. Spelled tendrils of energy seeped into my body. Repairing torn muscles and restoring bruised skin, they left a soothing balm in their wake.
The pain in my battered shoulder vanished.
Tentatively, I flexed my arm. No twinges accompanied the motion. I grinned in delight. Incredible, I thought. I recast lay hands multiple times—its spellform was indelibly etched in my mind now—until all my bruises faded and the last of my aches was banished.
When I was done, the mana pool at my core had drained to half. But I didn’t care. Finally, I was free of pain. And the repeated spellcasting had other benefits too. My magic Attributes had increased.
Your channelling and spellpower have increased to: level 3.
So far so good, I thought, dismissing the Trials alert. Now for the hard part.
It was time to attempt a dragon spell creation.
Scratching my head, I pondered how to go about the task. My life magic spellcrafting had been… if not easy, at least not a complete shot in the dark. I had already known the lay hands spell existed, and the basic mechanism of its operation. But I had no starting point for dragon magic spellcrafting.
What did I know about dragon magic? Almost nothing. While the Trials had gifted me with some knowledge of the Discipline, the information was sketchier than I would have liked. I only had a vague concept of what dragon magic truly was, and little idea of what it could accomplish.
Alright, so what I know of dragon magic so far is not worth writing home about, and it’s not going to help me in my spellcrafting But what do I know of dragons? What are they synonymous with?
Fire. Flying. Scales. Claws. Size. Strength.
I pursed my lips in thought, considering the concepts I had come up with. Of the six, fire was the one I was most familiar with and likely the easiest to try manifesting with a spell. Closing my eyes, I began.
Drawing out my mana, I pictured fire as I imagined a dragon would breathe it: a churning vortex of flame, a raging inferno, a destructive jet of heat and light. I willed the fire into being, visualising it flaring out of my own mouth. Burn, I commanded.
My mana surged up and out of me in response to my will, and with frenzied purpose, began to form a spell construct. But, a moment later, with the spellform only half-realised, the magical structure collapsed and the mana seeped back into my body.
You have failed to create a spell. Mana lost.
Aargh, I thought in black disappointment as I stared at the stark emptiness in my magesight. This time, I didn’t even have a basic spellform to tweak and experiment on.
No help for it, but to try again. Varying the projection in my mind, I willed fire into being once more.
✽✽✽
Twenty failed attempts later, I was close to giving up.
No matter how much I altered the images in my mind, my mana refused to form the crudest of spellforms. Either my magic had no understanding of the concept of a dragon’s fire, or I what I visualised was complete at odds with how it should be done.
Either way, I began to think the task was impossible. And now my mana pool was nearly drained. Halting my efforts, I took a moment to rest and reflect on my labours.
Something felt off.
In every failed attempt, mana had raced to do my bidding. But always the magic had collapsed in on itself, dissolving partway into forming a spell construct. Though it had not seemed as if the mana was confused about its purpose. On the contrary, my magic had appeared eager to fulfil its given task. But for whatever reason it had been unable to.
Almost as if some essential ingredient is absent.
I bowed my head and rested it in my hands while I thought. What am I missing? I went over what I knew of dragon magic. It wasn’t much. A handful of facts on the form and texture of fire, the all-encompassing nature of dragon magic, and the uniqueness of the beings that had invented it.
Yet, as I picked through my meagre store of dragon knowledge, the memory of the earlier lore note I had received from the Trials kept intruding.
Ceding to my intuition, I recalled the message.
Lore note: Dragon magic is a universal skill. Unlike other magic Disciplines, which are governed by a single Attribute, dragon magic is affected by all Potentials. Spells from the Discipline may draw from any combination of Attributes and Potentials.
“A universal skill,” I murmured, chewing my lip in thought. I had wondered at the wording but hadn’t known what to make of it. I still didn’t. But taking in the entire Discipline description, I began to have an inkling...
Do dragon spells require more than mana? If the Discipline drew from all Potentials, it stood to reason that it might. Could that be the difference? I wondered as an idea took shape.
It’s worth a try at least.
Breathing in deeply, I began anew. I visualised a dragon’s fire in as much detail as I could, but did not immediately will it into being. Holding the shape of fire in my mind, I fed mana into the image until it was full to bursting.
Still, I didn’t release the spell.
Instead I sought further fuel for the magic. Following some half-understood instinct, I drew on my being and pushed threads of spirit into the spell.
Spirit refused to heed my call.
It was not that the weaves of spirit did not answer to my will. They did. F
ine filaments separated from the greater weave of my being and flowed into my mind as directed. Yet they baulked at entering the spellform.
Goddamn. I had been sure spirit was the missing ingredient. I released its weaves to fall back into my being, but kept the shape of fire fixed and infused with mana in my mind.
I drummed the fingers of one hand against my leg. If not spirit, then what?
In frustration, and for want of any better ideas, I poured all else of myself into the spell that I could think of. Flesh, bone, blood—
Pain rippled through me.
The mana in me was burning. In shock, I nearly dropped the spellform. Ignoring the hurt suffusing my body, I studied the spell construct I held in my mind in fascination. Where before the mana threading its form had been a cool cobalt, now they had shone a luminous gold.
I realised the flows of mana had been ignited. By my own blood. The missing ingredient was blood!
The pain vanished. Still transfixed by the beauty of the spellform in my mind, I barely noticed. Sure now of what I had to do, I fed more of my blood into the spell.
Mana and blood mixed and transformed the spellform into a raging maelstrom that fought to escape my grasp. Belatedly I realised the spell might be one beyond my skill to cast. What will happen if I lose control? I wondered with sudden unease.
Setting aside doubt, I struggled to retain my grasp on the volatile spellform. Sweat beaded down my brow as my will was stretched to its limit. Despite the fire’s raging, I held firm and maintained control.
Finally it subsided, leashed to my will. I heaved a sigh of relief. Now to see whether all this effort has been for naught. Gently, I coaxed the fiery torrent out through my hands.
A flood of Trials notices shouted for attention. I ignored them, my attention captured by something else entirely.
My hands had burst into flame.
Startled by their brightness, I jerked my head away and nearly toppled backwards. Goddamn, I am on fire! I scrambled to my feet and rushed out of the tent in blind panic.
I wasn’t thinking. Fear had overruled my senses. The only thought that was in my mind was that I was burning and needed to get help.
The pail, you idiot! Use the water from the pail!
Two steps out of the tent, I froze—conflicted between searching for help and dashing back into the tent. Then another thought intruded.
There’s no pain.
Befuddled, I stared down at my hands. The flames still licked eagerly at them. But my skin was undamaged. I took a cautious sniff. There was no smell of charring. I turned my hands over and studied them anew. The flames were doing me no harm. I am immune to my own fire, I realised.
Only then did what I had done sink in. I had cast a dragon spell! I laughed in delight. It was partly in relief at my continued survival—my experiment had been more dangerous than I had expected—and partly in happiness at my success.
My voice echoed shockingly loud in the silent camp. Taken aback, I spun about to see if anyone was observing.
I was alone. Glancing upwards, I saw the stars shining brightly, and the moon—foreign and unfamiliar—was high in the sky. Time had flown by far quicker than I had imagined and night had fallen fully.
My blood was still singing with fire too, I realised. Burning away. I glanced down at my hands again with my magesight. The spell was still active, and every second more of my mana and life flowed into the spellform to fuel its flames.
My glee faded. The spell was still draining my magic and life. Quenching the fire with a flick of my will, I opened the Trials alerts to try and make sense of what was going on.
You have spellcrafted a: touch-based spell, from the Discipline of: dragon magic. The name assigned to this spell is: flare. Flare is a persistent spell and while active drains all three of the caster’s energy pools: mana, stamina, and health. Its casting time is: very fast and its rank is: common.
You are the first player to have spellcrafted the dragon spell: flare. For this achievement, you have been awarded: dragon lore and two Marks.
You have gained in experience and are now a: level 10, Trainee. You have reached: player rank 2. Player levelling rate decreased.
Lore note: Dragon magic is unique amongst the magic Disciplines. Where spells from the other magic schools are imbued only with mana, dragon spells are infused also by the caster’s own lifeblood. Lifeblood contains within itself a portion of both the player’s stamina and life.
This significantly increases the cost and danger of dragon magic, but also makes spells from the Discipline three times more powerful than their counterparts.
Flare is the simplest of dragon magic spells. It is a bright, uncontrolled burst of flame that burns with intense heat of dragonfire. All dragons are born knowing the spell, giving even the smallest of hatchlings the means to defend themselves. Yet the spell should be used cautiously. Many a hatchling has gone to their death after draining away their own lifeblood through the use of flare.
I read and re-read the Trials alerts, the lore note in particular. While I was pleased to have reached player rank two, the other messages perturbed me. So dragon magic was both powerful and dangerous. I will have to be careful how I use it.
With more thoughtful steps, I ducked back into my tent. I still had some mana remaining. Before I bedded down for the night, I intended on expending it all and reaping what benefits I still could from newcomer. Yet even as I began channelling life magic again, I couldn’t help dwelling further on the troubling implications of the Trials’ messages.
Chapter 21
390 days until the Arkon Shield falls
4 days to Earth’s destruction
Many believe dragonfire to be myth and not fact. Yet the snippets of lore and text the Elders left behind are rife with mention of it. Dragonfire is as real as the Elders. —Arustolyx, gnomish archaeologist.
Despite my exhaustion, sleep did not come easily, and when it did, it brought troubled dreams and nightmares that had me tossing and turning. After waking up screaming for the third time to horrifying images of headless corpses and rivers awash with blood, I gave up on sleep altogether.
Rubbing my red-rimmed, swollen eyes, I ducked out my tent and into the brisk, night air. The sky had begun to lighten and dawn was not far off. The rest of the camp still appeared asleep though. Good, it will give me a moment to think.
I looked about for something to drink. But other than the pail of water inside my tent, there was nothing else available. What I wouldn’t do for a cup of coffee.
Slaking my thirst with half the pail’s contents, I dunked my head in the rest. Then I sat down cross-legged outside my tent and considered my plans for the new day.
My training last night had finished off well. I had my raised my magic Attributes and my skill in both the life and dragon magic Disciplines. I even managed not to set the tent on fire, I thought wryly.
Control over the dragon spell, flare, had proved difficult at first. Dragonfire craved to blaze free and wild—guzzling my mana, stamina, and health in the process. In hindsight, I realised I had been fortunate my spellpower was low when I’d begun practicing. Otherwise I would have surely set everything within my immediate vicinity ablaze—or been consumed from within myself.
Yet the spell could be controlled.
By throttling the mana and lifeblood I infused in flare’s spellform, I had succeeded in reducing the resulting flames and its energy drain. It made for an interesting dynamic, one which might be tricky to control in battle. But by the end of my training, I had improved my control to the extent I felt comfortable employing the spell in actual combat.
Opening the Trials core in my mind, I reviewed my other gains from last night.
Your skill in dragon and life magic has advanced to: level 10 and reached: rank 2, Trainee.
Your channelling and spellpower have increased to: level 5.
I have made good progress, I thought with a pleased smile. But despite m
y improvements, I was concerned about what flare boded for my future growth.
If all other dragon spells consumed life, stamina, and mana, I would have to split my Attribute advancements between Resilience, Might, and Magic Potentials, where originally I had intended on using the Marks I earned solely on magic Attributes.
In particular, I would have to invest in both vigour and constitution. The first influenced the size of my stamina pool, and the second determined my health pool. And I simply did not have enough Marks for such widespread investment.
Of course, I could just avoid dragon magic altogether, use it sparingly or not make an attempt to maximise the benefits I derived from the Discipline.
But that would be a mistake.
I could not ignore the lore note. If dragon spells were three times stronger than the spells from other magic Disciplines, it would give me the edge I needed when facing enemies both stronger and more numerous.
“I need more Marks,” I muttered, stating the obvious. But how to get them? The Trials had awarded me two Marks for discovering the flare spell, and if it did that for every other dragon spell I discovered it might add up to a tidy sum… but how many new spells could I create?
Not nearly enough for the Attributes I want—no, need.
If I was going to have my revenge on the orcs, I had to push the limits of what I could gain from the Trials, and even then, I had few illusions that destroying the Orcish Federation would be easy.
If only I had earned two mythic Traits instead of one from slaying my mum’s killers, then I could have—
Wait a minute.
I stilled as a half-remembered thought surfaced. There had been a piece of text in the wiki that had made mention of acquiring Traits. It had struck me as odd at the time. Because unlike everything else in the wiki—which was meticulously laid out and unambiguous—that particular passage had been hidden in an unrelated section of text.
I hadn’t paid the passage much attention, thinking it a mistake. But now, recalling what Tara had said about the Sponsors and the pledges they required of humans, I wondered.
Overworld (Dragon Mage Saga Book 1): A fantasy post-apocalyptic story Page 17
