by Awert, Wolf
“Here,” the young woman said, “the part where the leaves start to make a tube shape. There’s always a lump of earth behind that. You need to make sure that goes as well.”
Nill concentrated on the solid earth beneath the leaf, roughly where the color transitioned from green to white. He forced it to crumble and squeezed the dregs out easily. Another dip in the water and the leek was clean.
Nill grinned. I may not be able to fight, but at least I can clean vegetables, he thought. Time to get this leek to the other room.
He grabbed the whole bundle of grenkleek as though he were transporting brushwood.
“Suppose you want to prove what a big strong man you are. Be careful not to squish the stalks,” an old man grumbled at him.
Nill gave a shy smile and said nothing. The leeks served an excellent secondary purpose as a disguise to hide his face behind. Nobody will recognize me and I can see all, he thought to himself. Leaving a trail of water dripping from the plants, he carried the bundle into the next room, where more mucklings were further preparing the plants. He crossed the chamber and arrived at the first fireplaces.
“How do I roast grenkleek?” he asked aloud.
“Roast grenkleek?” Growarth span around, fully prepared to give whatever foolish muckling had asked such an insubordinate question a shearing, when he saw Nill and let out his booming laugh. “Roasting grenkleek. Only a student of magic… What brings you to me?”
Nill gulped audibly. “I’m in a bit of a situation with the other students and I wanted to ask your advice. Can you tell me how to become a strong sorcerer as quickly as possible?”
“Is it just one, or all of them you’re in trouble with?” Growarth asked in reply with a knowing look.
“I’m afraid it’s all of them.”
“Aye, I thought as much. Had to happen before long. Here’s my wise counsel: never wander around Ringwall alone. If someone happens to do something to you, you’ll need a witness. I’m sure the Magon wishes not for anyone to hurt any of you three. Same for the archmages, most of them at least. Perhaps not all. The further down you go in the ranks of our mages, the greater the number of people that aren’t fond of you at all.”
Nill looked disappointed.
“Thank you for your advice, Master Growarth,” he said formally. “I do not know how to defend myself, and neither do I know what is coming for me. The others can all do magic already. They learned it at their mother’s knee.”
“Perhaps you already know what’s in store for you. If not, you’ll find out soon enough,” Growarth said. “Your teachers show you everything there is to learn at the start of your training. The tasks will get harder, but not fundamentally different. At the end of your time as a student you will be dueling, under supervision of course. Your opponent is your choice, whether teacher or mage; most choose the teachers. It sounds worse than it is. Earthen magic is difficult to concentrate in the Hall of Ceremony. Same for Wood. You need much strength to control Metal, but it’s a magic that is used. So you’re left with Fire and Water, and Water is the element of constant change and as such difficult to control. Which leaves you with Fire, and then your only choice is whether your fireballs will be blue or red.
“Your first fight will go as follows: you attack, the opponent defends himself. The second fight is the opposite. You will have to recognize and deflect the magic thrown at you. Once you’ve learned to recognize an attack quickly enough, your skills will be enough to dampen it. You’re unlikely to be attacked with something you’ve never been shown before.”
“But if that were to happen?” Nill asked, worried.
Growarth’s mouth twitched. “It’ll hurt a bit. But you’ll survive.”
Nill never knew when Growarth was being serious or not. “Survive” could mean many things.
“Don’t worry about it too much. You’ll manage. The third task is the difficult one. You’ll be poisoned or injured. You might be cursed, but I’ve never heard of a teacher cursing a student. You will have to prove that you can heal injuries and remove poisons. The hard part is knowing what sort of injury it is, and not being stunned by shock or fear. This task is something of a test of your valor, too. You see, you have to allow them to hurt you first.”
Nill frowned, thinking hard. “When will we be told what our trial looks like?” he inquired.
“You won’t. Everyone knows that.” Growarth was grinning again.
Nill bit his lip. “You know, it doesn’t look like anyone cares in the least that Brolok, Tiriwi and I learn anything.”
“You may be right, sonny, you may. I’ve little to do with all that, but the people like to talk, especially over dinner. Sometimes I think they brought you here for observation rather than learning.”
Tiriwi will be thrilled, Nill thought. She’s here to observe, not to learn. Then he said aloud: “So the test will be a duel… seems like a good opportunity to settle things, doesn’t it?” He could hardly trust anyone these days, not even his own teachers. They had not, so far, actually done anything to him, but they did not like him. The best he could hope for was neutrality. He even had misgivings about Empyrade. Growarth, however, he trusted, although he could not say why.
“Yes, it would. If something were to happen to you during the test they’d write it off as an accident.”
“And is there any way I can prevent that?” Nill asked.
“Sure. Pick an opponent you know doesn’t want to harm you, or at least one you know didn’t mean to. So don’t take one of your teachers unless you’re certain they’re on your side. I’d pick one of the white mages that usually watch. They won’t be very happy about it, because it’s a test for them as well, but they’d never dare hurt you.”
“Why not?”
“It is expected of a White Mage that they have their magic under control,” said Growarth. “It wouldn’t be very good for his reputation if he harms a student out of sheer carelessness or ignorance. So they have to be careful. Besides, you can rest assured that they won’t have practiced for a duel. They’re only used as teachers on very special occasions, and even then it’ll be during your last winter here, never earlier. The archmages always want to know exactly who the students are, what they’re capable of, and if they can glean it, what they’re thinking. They won’t let a White Mage take control away from them. Did you never notice that all your teachers wear colored robes?”
“Thank you, at least now I know what’s in store for me.” Nill gave a courteous bow. “I’m not sure how helpful that will be in surviving the next few days, though. I’ve still no idea how to fight.”
“Do you want me to show you?” Growarth asked, a laugh playing around his mouth.
“Would you?”
“Of course, it’s no trouble. Are you prepared?”
“I am.”
Nill had barely spoken the words when a large fireball knocked him across the room.
“How’s that?” Growarth asked.
Nill coughed. His throat was burning, his chest ached and he could barely breathe.
“What did you feel then?”
Nill could hardly answer. He lay on the floor, coughing and groaning, until he had regained his speech. “I felt heat,” Nill gasped. “My eyes, my nose and lungs are on fire, I can’t breathe.”
“Next time, close your eyes in time, and don’t inhale if you can’t dodge the attack. Because you left your eyes unshielded, you’re blinded and I can do whatever I want.” Growarth frowned.
Nill mustered his strength and forced the heat out of his head. His forehead was quickly cool again, but his ears and eyes were not so easily tempered. He decided to keep his eyes shut until the burning sensation had passed somewhat, and the rest of his head was back to normal.
“Hey! I can see you!” Nill said, startled. Although his eyes were still firmly shut, he could make out Growarth. It was only a silhouette with no depth to it, but his movements were quite visible. Surrounding this shadow was a pale fire whose color kept changing from red
to green and back again. Growarth’s aura was easily as visible with closed eyes as with open ones.
“Oh really, you can?” Growarth made to strike Nill’s left shoulder with his fist. It was a quick motion, but Nill dodged it effortlessly by simply turning his body a little.
“Well, well, it seems you really can. That’s more than I can do!” Growarth laughed. “You’re seeing with your third eye.” He tapped Nill’s forehead lightly, just above his brow. “They say that the third eye sees the world of magic far clearer than our normal ones, but few can even use theirs. Now, attack me!”
Nill gathered all his concentration and to his surprise, a small ball of flame formed in his hand. My first ever fireball, he thought, glowing with pride as he flung it toward Growarth.
“A tiny ball like that will have you dead before you can finish casting it, my boy. It’s probably better if you learn how to put up a proper defense, and then just do something unexpected. Your enemies are likely to use fire-waves or flame orbs against you; it’s basically the first thing you learn.”
Nill’s excitement evaporated as quickly as it had come.
“How am I to defend myself?” he asked, subdued. “I don’t know how it works.”
Growarth sighed heavily. “Never made a shield before?”
Nill shook his head.
“Then there’s just one thing for it: dodge or run away. And if you can’t do either and you do end up taking a hit, make sure the energy leaves your body as quickly as possible. That’s all I can tell you.”
Nill thanked Growarth, and then buckled as Growarth gave him a friendly clap on the shoulder. The giant really leaves a mark every time I visit, he thought.
On his way back to the caves his mind was a mess of a thousand thoughts. He was no serious competition for anyone. He could hide for a while yet, but he knew he could not run for the rest of his life. And the test, with its duels he had no idea how to master… his thoughts were racing. Nill made a decision right then, not knowing whether it was born of desperation or recklessness.
As Nill worried about surviving the looming threat of his noble classmates, yet more trouble brewed. Five wild riders set out from Ringwall in all directions. The first to bring intelligence of Nill’s mysterious origins was guaranteed the Magon’s goodwill, a promise for which many would have risked their lives. Nobody knew who these riders were, as only a few of Ringwall’s mages had any inkling of the plan. But as always, rumors spread like an untamed fire, reaching the most distant chambers and cells. They were mages that had fallen from grace, given a final chance at redemption; they were trained murderers from the Borderlands; they were dark forces, summoned from another world. Every hallway, every passage seemed to increase their awfulness, made them yet more terrifying.
In truth, the riders were human. They were the Magon’s seekers, silent men with deep-set eyes in hard faces, with long black hair, clasped up to keep their vision clear, and with short beards. Not an ounce of fat was on them, for fat was nothing but dead weight that slowed down their steeds. All a seeker needed was his bones, muscles, tendons and sharp eyes and ears. They always tracked down their prey.
Before long word came from villages that had seen a druid and a young boy pass through. The details of the boy were hazy and vague, but the druid seemed to have left a mark on the witnesses’ memories. And so the riders followed an invisible trail that connected these villages that the pair had traveled through until they reached the borders of the five kingdoms. If the boy had come from a village in Earthland, as all the evidence indicated he had, then the amount of probable places between Earth and Metal was small.
The riders asked few questions to the villagers. They asked whether a young boy named Nill had lived there, whether he had left with a druid, and where they had set off to. The riders would bring greetings and say that Nill had reached his goal, safe and unharmed. Then they would leave. It was only a matter of time until they found Nill’s home. Esara was happy to receive greetings from the first rider and would have liked to know more, but the man had little time and rode on immediately. The second rider brought the same greeting, and Esara began to wonder why her boy should be so important as to warrant two messengers. With every further rider Esara’s wonder turned to worry, for visitors were rare in this village. None of the riders stayed longer than they needed to rest. They all claimed to have important business to attend to, and only stopped by as the village was on the way.
Out of sight, the riders each sent out three slender brown darter birds. They would reach Ringwall with no rest at high speed. No attack by a bird of prey would stop them, as one of the three would sacrifice itself if necessary. But darters were no easy prey. They were too fast and agile.
Even the sleepiest areas surrounding the kingdoms forgot visitors who stayed for only a short while. Soon, sleeping and waking, working and resting was all they could muster an interest in.
Prince Sergor-Don’s request for additional training in Fire magic had spread around and not all mages had turned a deaf ear. A secret messenger had asked the prince to go to a certain location at a certain time and to wait there. The mage he was waiting for appeared from the shadows. Prince Sergor-Don did not know this one, but the dark red robe with the elaborate flames sewn into it showed quite clearly his belonging to the Fire Mages.
“I have been told, Your Highness, that you have lamented the weakness of the magic we teach. Many of your fellows are already overwhelmed by it.”
The prince gave a short, harsh laugh. “Do you really think that the son of Herfas-San, heir to the throne of the Fire Kingdom, would ever ‘lament’ something like a moaning widow?”
“My apologies, allow me to rephrase that. Is it true that you believe that the spells we teach are too weak?”
“Magic is for the strong,” Prince Sergor-Don answered, staring into the Fire Mage’s eyes. “Let the indecisive and the timid play around with it and search for some small unsolved mystery or another. Those who command magic have power; power over people, life and sometimes the world. He who does not understand this should stay away from true magic and be satisfied with cheap conjuring tricks.”
“You are quite right, my prince, but the council is divided on the matter. All I can tell you is that nobody will stop you from finding out who the strong and weak are here in Ringwall. The highest, however, object to the death of the Oa.”
The prince gave the mage a cold smile. “So I’m to do the mages’ handiwork? Why not… as long as I decide where and when.”
The Fire Mage closed his eyes in agreement.
“I need teaching in the ways of Metal and Fire. Can you arrange a meeting with a Metal mage who has a similar outlook on things as us?” the prince asked.
The mage nodded.
“But first, Fire. The first thing I want to learn from you…” The prince lowered his voice to a whisper, his breath going shallow with desire.
The Fire Mage closed his eyes again and seemed to deliberate for a few moments. Then he said slowly, as though he was carefully choosing his every word, “Fire is the magic of combat and war. But it brings not only death, but also life. Where we control it, it serves and makes the earth fertile and rich. Where it is free, ash and dust and thirst remain in its wake. The Fire is as mighty and as beautiful as the Firebird, the master of the element. It flies across the world in flaming streaks, burning the land beneath it if it decides to. It flickers and dies and is reborn. Earth and Metal are slow, their change taking years. Fire is different, Fire is fast. It drives this world and never stops moving. Water is its enemy, but they can be combined to make their terrible bastard, steam. It is more mysterious and more dangerous than both of its parents. If paired with Metal, Fire will tear the Earth asunder and all living beings will flee. If you truly wish to control the Fire, you must be quick as the Firebird. Forget the fireballs; instead ignite your enemy from the inside. I will show you how the Firebird flies.”
The strange mixture of house and city known as Ringwall began to f
eel like a second home to Nill. What the sun and the smell of the meadows surrounding his village had once been for him, he now found in the dark corridors, the vaults, wide halls and hidden alcoves. He no longer feared that he might encounter his fellow students, for now he possessed great knowledge of all the portals, all the hidden doors and shortcuts leading from each quarter to the next. His strong sense of orientation along with his quick legs allowed him to traverse the place in peace.
On this day he found himself wandering around the Fire quarter. The thing that held his fascination the strongest about the city was its bizarre structure. There were not only three floors above ground and two below, but there were also half-floors in between that created a completely new order. Sometimes just three steps were enough to transport Nill to another world. He had just exited a small room and stepped into something that looked like a main corridor when he spotted Prince Sergor-Don. Nill desired neither to cross his path nor to interrupt his walk, and to his luck he found a small corridor leading off his current one with a steep stair leading downwards. Nill hesitated. He was not keen on ending up in one of the countless disused storage rooms that were scattered generously across the city. On the other hand, Prince Sergor-Don did not look likely to leave anytime soon. And so Nill decided to walk down the stairs, squeezed into the narrow corridor and followed the path into the depths until he reached a tiny room whose sole defining feature was yet another set of steps leading even further down. Glow moss had grown rampant down here, but its light was so dim that Nill still had to take care not to hit his nose with every descending step.
Ringwall isn’t a city at all, Nill thought. It’s actually an ancient creature, and I’m in its bowels. It’s probably kept alive by all the magic the people around here use every day. And that magic is covering everything, like the soot in a chimney. Invisible soot everywhere!
He stopped walking as a sudden thought occurred to him. If I want to understand the mages, I must first understand Ringwall. And I’m a long way away from that.
