by Andrew Rowe
He waved at the student. “Now, the third reason they’re important?”
Kord shook his head. “I, uh, don’t know what you’re thinking of, sir. Low risk infiltration, maybe?”
Lord Teft sighed. “There is potential in that line of thought, if further refined, but a traditional simulacrum spell has only a short duration. They continuously drain mana from the caster. Several kinds of mana, in fact: mental mana; life mana; and general mana.” His lecturing tone had a sharp cadence to it.
“That makes them prohibitively expensive to use for a long duration. This is why we’d love to crack how the tower creates constructs that seem to last indefinitely. Suffice to say that simulacra aren’t useless for infiltration, but not as useful as they could be. Anyone else?”
No one else spoke up.
Teft shrugged a shoulder. “Well, class is dismissed, then.”
Most students glanced around nervously for a moment, uncertain.
Seriously? He’s not going to tell us the third application?
...I suppose he’ll probably ambush us again with the same question later to see if we’ve figured it out.
I shook my head as the students made their way out of the stands. I followed with the crowd, retrieved my weapons, and then headed back toward my room.
It didn’t take long for Sera to catch up to me, with Roland and Patrick still following close behind her. “You got yourself into quite a mess today.”
I glanced at Roland. “I think it would be more accurate to say that Roland got me into a mess, but you both helped get me back out of it, so I’ll call it even.”
Patrick laughed. “Oh, man, you should have seen your face when that orb exploded behind you.”
I laughed in spite of not finding it particularly funny. “Yeah? Oh, and it’s good to see you, Patrick, it’s been too long.”
That was at least partially true.
“Yeah, been a while! You seem pretty much the same, though.”
I nodded. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
Roland’s contribution was almost a whisper. “Your mother misses you.”
I blinked as my mental landscape shifted.
Mother.
How long had it been since I’d even written to her?
I was a terrible son, wasn’t I?
My expression flickered, and I turned my head. “Thanks. I miss her, too. You still living with House Lyran?”
House Lyran was my mother’s house. Unlike in some cultures, married nobles in Valia generally retained their original house name as their surname. My mother, Laura Lyran, was no exception.
Roland nodded. From his expression, that looked like the end of the conversation for him, which was fine by me.
Sera frowned at me. “You look pretty rough. You want to go get something to eat?”
I looked at my two old friends, at Sera, and at the still-devastated stands. I was bone tired, but that fight had shown me something significant. Something I’d known before intellectually, but that I hadn’t really internalized.
I wouldn’t have lasted ten seconds without help. Not even ten real seconds, if the teacher had been playing fair.
If I wanted to survive the rest of the year, I needed to be a little more open to the idea of having other people in my life.
And so, I fought down the nervousness and fear that still lingered in my veins and said, “Okay.”
***
My right hand was twitching as I set my tray down on the table in the dining hall. I didn’t know if it was because I was nervous or just a side effect of the mana that was syphoned from my hand each time I’d used the dueling cane. Most likely, it was a combination of both.
Sera sat down next to me, which made things a little easier than if I’d been stuck sitting in close proximity to Roland or Patrick. I’d never had a problem with something that minor when I was younger, but a couple years had made me anxious that I wouldn’t live up to anyone’s expectations.
While I poked awkwardly at my food, Patrick leaned across the table toward me. “That was amazing back there. Do you think we’re going to get to fight in every class?”
I blinked. Goddess, I hope not.
I’d been practicing dueling since I was old enough to hold a cane (and younger than it was strictly legal). The “fight” we’d just engaged in was not something I was particularly interested in repeating. I didn’t like being an object for his lessons.
I shook my head. “We’ll get more chances to duel, I’m sure, but he wanted to make the first day flashy to leave an impression.”
Sera gave a snort of a laugh. “If we wanted to leave the ‘impression’ that he’s a dangerous narcissist, he succeeded at that.”
“I warned you.” Roland folded his arms, looking to Patrick, then to Sera. “He has a reputation for these kinds of... grandiose actions.”
Patrick grinned. “I thought it was amazing. How often do you get to see magic on that scale? I mean, there was that one time when Lady Lyran—”
Sera cut him off with a sharp gesture. “We all remember Lady Lyran’s duels, Patrick.”
Did I sense a hint of bitterness there? What was that about?
I supposed Lady Lyran being my mother and not her mother probably had something to do with it. If Sera was my half-sister... did Mother treat Sera badly? I’d never seen anything like that, but it wasn’t impossible. Especially for the last few years, while we’d been far apart.
I wanted to ask about it, but this wasn’t the place or the time.
Instead, I turned my head to Sera to ask her something different. “What was that spell you cast? I knew you told me that Summoners could draw power from monsters... Is that what that was?”
Patrick nodded vehemently. “Yeah, that was amazing, Sera! That must have been, what, like a rank two or three spell?”
Rank two or three?
I hadn’t studied much about magical classifications yet. I knew spells varied in power, of course, and giving them some kind of number designation made sense for an academic setting. Still, I didn’t ever remember hearing that term used.
How much had I missed in the last few years of school?
“Four, actually.” Sera smirked. Patrick’s eyes widened in awe. Sera turned back toward me. “And to answer your question, Corin, yes. I was drawing from a specific contract to cast that spell. I don’t need to summon the monster itself to do that. Summoning monsters directly is rare and dangerous.”
My brows knit together at that. “I’ve seen plenty of monsters summoned in duels, though.”
“Those are almost always figments, not the original monster,” she explained.
“Figments?” I really hoped I wasn’t the only one behind on these facts. “What are those, Summoner equivalents of simulacra?”
“Almost.” At least she didn’t seem to look down on me for asking. “Figments are more varied. You’ll often see ones that are smaller than the original monster, for example, but cost very little mana to maintain. I could make several of those at once, and make each of them slightly different. Maybe make one monster quick, another more resilient, or that sort of thing.”
“That sounds pretty useful,” I noted. “Can you make something stronger than the original monster?”
She gave a thoughtful, “Hmm,” before answering. “Probably? I suppose that depends on the monster.”
Roland narrowed his eyes. “How are you casting rank four spells? Most graduates can’t do that.”
Sera steepled her fingers. “I’ve got my ways.”
Typical Sera.
When it became obvious that she was not going to answer, Patrick’s attention turned to me. “Sooo... Corin,” he said, faux-casually. “How’d you get that ice sword?”
I reached down and ran my hand across the grip of the sword self-consciously. “I had it with me when I left the tower.”
“That’s amazing. I’ve never seen anything like it!” He seemed to have forgotten to downplay his excitement, and his voice was ent
hused. “I’ve always wanted a magic sword.”
I felt myself smiling in spite of my reservations. Patrick’s energy was a little overwhelming, but he was so earnest that I couldn’t stay irritated. “Yeah, it’s pretty great. Only reason I managed to hold my own back there. Once I figure out how it works, maybe I’ll let you use it sometime.”
He made high-pitched sound. “I would love that. Thanks, Corin.”
I nodded, going back to focusing on eating. We spent most of the rest of the meal exchanging small talk, catching up a bit on the years we’d spent apart.
All things considered, it wasn’t a bad way to spend a meal.
Chapter VIII — Training Courses
The next couple days went relatively smoothly by comparison. No other teachers threatened to annihilate me with overwhelming magic — just overwhelming homework.
I had a lot of reading to do.
I also had to get my mana ratios tested at the Divinatory. I got around to that on Kyrsday night, just before the deadline. The results weren’t quite what I expected.
From the Diviner’s frown, they probably weren’t what he’d expected, either. I’d been sent to a second year student for my measurements; there weren’t any teachers working at the hour I’d arrived. He was tall and thin, with thick spectacles and probing blue eyes.
“You’ve got one of the worst mana balances I’ve ever seen.” He scribbled notes in his book, sighing. “Give me your right hand again, I’ll double check it.”
I offered him my hand, frowning.
“My mind seeks the truth within. Give me sight of his strength.”
The Diviner finished his incantation, pulling away from my hand. “Looks like I was right the first time. Hm.” He shrugged. “Nothing for it, then. You’re going to have a hard time being an Enchanter.”
I frowned at that. “What do you mean?”
He pointed at my right hand. “You’ve got C-ranked mana in your sword hand, which is good for your first week. That’s what you’re expected to have in your attunement location. Unfortunately, that’s not where your attunement is, and it’s the wrong type of mana.” He pointed at my forehead. “You’re Rank D in your actual attunement spot. That’s not great; you should have at least Rank C there. And a mark on the forehead isn’t great for enchanting in general. You’re probably going to have a tough time getting started.”
My frown deepened. “Can’t I just use the mana from my sword hand?”
“You’ll develop scarring. You’ve been overusing it already, and probably for a long time.”
That didn’t sound good. “Scarring? What do you mean?”
He rubbed his forehead. “Did no one explain how to properly use — never mind. Of course not. Okay, listen. This is important. If you use too much mana from a particular part of your body, you can hurt yourself. Do that without giving yourself time to recover and you end up with mana scars. Permanent damage to the flow of mana in your body. You’re already very close to developing some in your right hand.”
Undoubtedly from training with the dueling cane. Thanks, Dad. Really great parenting there.
“I’ve been using mana for a long time, yeah.” I closed my eyes for a moment. “What’s the problem with these scars? You talked about hurting my mana flow, but what effect would that have?”
“Slows down your ability to recover mana from that spot and makes it harder to convert.” His response was immediate. “They can also make it harder to get stronger. Everyone here is expected to exercise to increase their mana levels. That’s going to be tougher for you if you get scars. Your attunement naturally regulates the mana in that location, so it’s safer to use that mana repeatedly without hurting yourself.”
Ugh. Perfect.
“All right. I’ll be careful not to push it too much. Anything I can do if I end up with scarring?”
“Mmm, some powerful Menders can fix that, but I doubt you can afford the cost. And it doesn’t always work. You’re best off just trying to avoid dealing yourself more damage — which means staying well below your safe mana use thresholds.” His tone indicated I’d best heed the advice.
He scratched a few more things down, then tore off a page from his notebook. “Here. Your safe mana limits for each mana point on your body. Just keep in mind that for your hand, you could cause yourself damage just by using it too frequently.”
I nodded in thanks, scanning the page and heading out.
18 Mind Mana. (Rank D.)
24 Right Hand Mana. (Rank C.)
16 Left Hand Mana. (Rank D.)
10 Right Leg Mana. (Rank E.)
10 Left Leg Mana. (Rank E.)
8 Heart Mana. (Rank E.)
6 Lung Mana. (Rank E.)
He’s right, that’s not a great list. I’m going to need a lot of practice.
On the positive side, having a good supply of mana in my right hand meant that I was in good shape if I ever did earn a second attunement that was more battle oriented. It sounded like that would help prevent the scarring issue, too. With luck, I could pull that off by the end of the year. With a little less luck, the second year.
Less luck than that, I’d overuse my current attunement and end up dead.
That was a sobering thought. I made my way home, and then drifted off while thinking about rune designs.
***
The next Magic Theory class was pretty basic stuff, and the Physical Combat class was mostly focused on stretches and footwork. We all had mandatory physical training three times a week on top of the combat class. Even if this wasn’t as strict as a true military academy, we were expected to be in reasonable enough shape to survive military training after we left.
Introductory Runes proved less exciting than I’d hoped. The teacher just summarized what I’d already read in the beginning of the book. It was with a feeling of dejection that I headed into The Art of Artifice afterward.
“Your runes class is useless.”
I blinked at that, focusing on the teacher. She was a short, thick, older woman with the same olive skin coloring most of the students had and dark, graying hair. She could have been anyone’s grandmother.
She leaned heavily on the lectern, sounding exasperated. “If you’re here, that means you’ve decided to commit to some actual enchanting. Not the kind of useless garbage they’re teaching in the standard curriculum. Good for you for taking the initiative. This will be your hardest class. If you’re not interested in being a real Enchanter, leave now. I won’t give you a second chance.”
There were only a few dozen of us in the class. No one left.
“Not leaving? Good. You’re probably just afraid to be the first one to walk out, but that’s good. Fear can be useful. But not as useful as studying.”
She tapped a finger on the table. “Write this down. Elements of Enchanting, volumes one through six. Volatile Runes, by Fairway. Constructing Ritual Matrices, by Conway. And,” she sighed, “Monster Hunting for Amateur Adventurers, by Hawthorne. A book I am loathe to require, but one that sadly proves more accurate than any of the more ‘scholarly’ tomes on the subject.”
“You will read — nay, study —” she actually said nay? I aspired to that level of pretension, “the contents of each and every one of these books before the end of the year, starting with the Elements of Enchanting series. If you’re wondering why there’s a book on monster hunting, you’re already behind, but I’ll be merciful for this last time. Monsters are the single most important source of enchanting materials. If you want to be an Enchanter, you’re going to need to learn about how to find and harvest monster cores, even if you don’t actually do the hunting yourself.”
One of the students stood, indicating she had had a question. The teacher ignored her.
“I’m Professor Vellum. That’s a type of parchment, for those of you who aren’t quite literate yet. Remember that.” She shot an annoyed look at the student who was standing. The student withered beneath her gaze and sat down.
“Now, I’m sure your
runes teacher taught you a few things about scratching pretty shapes into things. What she didn’t teach you, I’ll wager, is that those basic enchantments just trap enough mana in an item for a single use. A single use! Whoever would want to make a magical item that can only be used once? It’s horrifically inefficient. And yet, that’s the only thing you would ever learn in the standard curriculum.” She spat out the last two words like they tasted of venom.
“I’m going to teach you children how to work real magic. If you survive this class, you will forge objects of power that will last beyond your lifetimes.” She shot a withering look at a student whose eyes were shining. “No, they won’t be objects of myth and legend — don’t let your dreams get too far ahead of you.” The student deflated, and there were a few snickers.
“Now, who would like to see a bit of magic happen?”
***
I went home that night with a feeling I hadn’t experienced in what felt like years.
Excitement, mingled with hope.
Professor Vellum was as elitist as Teft in her own way. She’d already punished a few students who hadn’t been paying sufficient attention. But she was going to teach me how to apply my attunement in ways that were useful, and for that I was deeply grateful.
The downside?
It turned out permanent enchantments were expensive.
I ruminated over the details of the lesson.
“Monster cores — those are the glimmering little bits you find when you kill a monster, if you haven’t managed to do something that basic yet — are the purest sources of mana you’re going to come by, aside from disenchanting an existing item. If you want a permanent item, you’re going to need at least three types.”
Vellum held up a finger. “The first is the only one your other teacher is going to tell you about. You’ll need a core for the basic enchantment itself, obviously. Fire core for a fire rune, that sort of thing. Alternatively, you can get someone with the appropriate attunement to power the rune for you if they’re strong enough, and know how to put the exact spell into the rune. I never do this, because people are terrible.”
