“Try again!” the professor shouted and sent another fist-sized ball of fire streaking towards Justan.
Justan switched to his mage sight and prepared his defenses. Professor Beehn had been trying a new teaching technique for the last two hours. He simply hurled spell after spell until Justan was able to counter them. The Professor had started out with water and paralyzing air spells until Justan began to counter them with relative frequency. Then he started throwing harder stuff.
Usually when defending this kind of attack, a magic user would put up a wall of fire and absorb the spell into it. But since Justan had almost no fire ability at all this was not an option. Another tactic would be to send an attack of the opposing element to counter it. In this case, a student would surround the fireball with ice. However, Justan’s great strength in air and water was made useless for this method because of his lack of offensive magic.
Justan was forced to learn tactics that were normally employed only by advanced students. True defensive spells used negative magic and this was something that most students did not learn until they became wizards.
According to his professors, the trick for Justan was to determine the elements used in the spell being cast on him and use negative magic to pick apart the appropriate elements to either redirect it or dissipate the spell completely. Unfortunately, he didn’t have the timing down yet.
Professor Beehn's new fireball roared straight for his chest. Justan threw out his hands instinctively and the fireball struck his palms, blasting them to the side as it exploded, peppering his chest and arms with stinging motes of flame. Justan rolled on the ground, patting at the burning areas with his singed hands.
As he assured himself that the fires were out, he heard a worried cry in his mind. Justan! It was Gwyrtha. Once again she had sensed his pain and frustration. It had been two months since she had arrived in the forest outside of the school and she seemed to get bored fairly easily. For entertainment, she tended to spend a lot of time monitoring Justan’s thoughts.
I’m fine, he sent through the bond. Really.
Professor Beehn watched Justan sitting in the grass vacant-eyed and sighed.
“That won’t do, Justan. If that fireball had been bigger, you would be dead right now.” He cast a quick air spell that propelled his chair across the short trimmed grass. The well-oiled wheels attached to the chair barely made a squeak. “Here, let me heal those burns so that we can continue.”
Justan stood, his robes still smoldering in places, and let the wizard heal the minor burns. He watched the cool energies that flowed into his skin and he breathed a sigh of relief. He really didn’t feel like studying this way anymore.
“Actually Professor, I have some other things I need to attend to. I need to get some studying done before the Elements Tournament tonight and then Master Latva wanted to see me. Can we continue this tomorrow, perhaps?”
The wizard nodded reluctantly. “I suppose, if you must. But tomorrow, you won’t get off so easil-.” But Justan had already started running towards the library. “Wait just a minute!”
Justan stopped and turned back with a wince, half expecting another fireball to be hurled at his back. “Yes sir?”
“I wasn’t finished, Justan,” Beehn huffed. “Don’t you know that it is quite rude to run off while a crippled man is still speaking to you?”
Justan chuckled as he walked back towards his powerful friend. “Professor Beehn, for someone who can't use his legs, you are the least crippled person I have ever met.”
The rise of Professor Beehn’s magic had occurred suddenly and caused quite a stir within the school. When he had finally told the council of the increase in his magical abilities, everyone was overjoyed to hear of it. He had always been well liked and everybody in the school felt that if anyone deserved to have such powers, he did. However, when he had been tested and the extent of his power became known, many became nervous. He was now nearly as strong as Master Latva. This made him one of the most powerful wizards in the known lands.
There was quite a debate in the school as to how the professor had obtained these powers. Some explained away his development by saying that he was just a late bloomer. Others surmised that the golem had somehow given the powers to him. The theory that made the most sense to Justan was something that Vincent had rambled about in one of his more lucid moments. The gnome had stated quite a few references in the mage histories to support his argument. He thought that Professor Beehn had been born with his power just like everyone else, but something inside him was holding it back. It had taken a catastrophic event like the golem attack to make him release it.
Once Wizard Beehn started to learn how to use his new abilities, the council noticed something else that disturbed them. Unlike other wizards, he never seemed to tire. Professor Beehn could use his magic all day without exhausting it and he wasn’t afraid to use it either. Since he didn’t have the use of his legs, he tapped into his powers constantly, always using them to propel himself or move things about. The MageSchool had always taught to conserve energy and not just throw it about willfully. The professors were afraid that Beehn was putting forth a bad example.
The professor fixed Justan with a concerned gaze. “Justan, first of all let me tell you that I think the rate of your progress is astounding. No other student in recent memory has grown quite so quickly, and even though in some aspects your desire to learn seems stronger, I have noticed that you have been . . . distracted lately. Is there something I can help you with?”
Justan paused, not sure how to answer. His distractions were different than before. Since his meeting with the prophet, he felt much better about himself and the direction he was going. He had pretty much let the rebellious side of his nature go. He didn’t even carry his bow and arrows around with him anymore.
His recent problems came from other sources. Gwyrtha's arrival to the forest outside the school had made it increasingly harder for him to concentrate. Her thoughts were a constant presence in the back of his mind and though he learned to ignore them most of the time, it wasn't easy. Lately it had gotten worse. She stood outside of the school each night and called out to his mind. She missed him; she wanted to play and frolic with him. Needless to say, he wasn't getting much sleep. What made it even more difficult was that he wanted to be with her too.
The thing that held him back was fear. Justan still had over a year to go in his contract at the school and he worried that it was only a matter of time before either someone found Gwyrtha, or she found a way into the school to see him. Justan knew that he was going to have to sneak out one night and visit her. He had already scouted out a way to do it in fact, but he hadn’t yet got up the nerve. If he was caught leaving the school, she might be found. It was just too risky.
Professor Beehn noted his hesitance to answer and added, “Justan, I know that something is troubling you and I can understand if it is something too private, and you don’t want to talk about it, but I am your friend. Maybe there is something I can do to help.”
Justan almost told the professor everything right there. He really wanted to tell him. He wanted to tell Qyxal as well. He hated keeping such a big secret, but he had made a promise to the elves that he wouldn't tell anyone about Gwyrtha's existence. If only he didn't feel so uncomfortable lying to his friends about it.
“I am sorry, Professor.” He brought up something else that was on his mind instead. “You see, I heard that the council is planning on making me an apprentice.”
“Really? You’ve heard about that?” Beehn raised his eyebrows. “Hmph! Someone needs to learn to keep their mouth shut, and I bet I know who it is.” Justan winced. He didn’t want to get Vincent in trouble.
The wizard sighed. “Well, perhaps if I tell you what I know, it may help ease your mind. Or at the very least, help you figure out what to do about it. If I know you like I think I do, you have already done a lot of research into what becoming an apprentice entails. Is this correct?”
Justan n
odded. “I looked into it. The main change that I can see is that each apprentice is given to a wizard as a personal assistant. This would give me a great opportunity to learn, but it would also limit some of the freedoms that I have.”
After talking to the other apprentices, Justan learned that the demands a wizard placed on his apprentices were often time consuming. Chances are that he would be hard pressed to find time for his morning exercises much less study his personal interests.
“This is true,” the professor admitted. “But I promise you that the benefits far outweigh the drawbacks. This is a step one has to take to become a wizard.”
“Perhaps you are right, Professor.” Justan said. He still didn't see himself ever rising to that position, but who knew? Maybe after he graduated from the BattleAcademy, he would return to the MageSchool and finish his studies. For the first time, he found himself open to the idea.
“Okay, this is what I know,” Beehn said. “The council is well aware of your two-year contract and the limitations it places upon your training. Everyone hopes that when the contract is over you will reconsider and stay here longer, but in case you don't, we want you to leave here as prepared as possible.” Professor Beehn paused. “You are aware that the situation with your contract is unique?”
“Yes,” Justan said. “Though I can't say as I understand why.”
“You see, Justan. Usually students sign an unequivocal contract with us. When they enter the school, they don't leave until we are finished teaching them. To leave the school early, you have to submit to having the magic ability ripped from you. You are the only student I have heard of that was being allowed to leave without at least rising to the rank of mage.”
“So why were they willing to make an exception in my case?” Justan asked. Perhaps Professor Beehn would be willing to share something that would shed some light on his situation. “What makes me so different from everyone else?”
Beehn shrugged apologetically. “To tell you the truth, I wasn't privy to the conversations that led to your arriving here. In fact, most of the wizards here have no idea why your situation is different. I suspect that only Valtrek and Master Latva know the real reason. But your time here so far has been nothing but good for the school so I have no complaints.” He smiled. “It also doesn't hurt that you are progressing in your studies at a rapid pace. In fact, there is an apprenticeship ceremony coming up soon, but we are still waiting for something before we decide.”
“What is that?” Justan asked.
“Let's just say that enough of the wizards on the council are resisting this move that we are waiting for a little more proof that you are truly ready,” he explained. He saw Justan’s worried look and added, “Don’t worry about it, Justan. Just relax. Continue to be yourself and you can't help but give us what we are looking for.”
Justan wasn’t so sure it would be that easy.
Later that day Justan headed to the Elements Tournament. It was a beautiful evening. The sun had nearly sunk behind the wall of the school and cool breeze filled Justan’s nostrils with the smells of the trees and grass. He closed his eyes and breathed the air in. He felt so content that he didn’t notice the person sneaking up behind him.
“Good evening, Justan. Are you ready for defeat, tonight?”
Justan's stifled his surprise before the elf noticed. “Good evening, Qyxal. You smell of horses.”
The elf chuckled. “Yes, well I have been helping Jeffrey for the last two hours and I haven't had time to clean up. Just think of the smell as a distraction while I trounce you mercilessly!”
Justan grinned. He never seemed to find any time to spend with Qyxal anymore. Actually, he hardly ever spent time with any of his friends. Riveren was too busy with his new position as guard leader and Zambon was acting distant again, as he had when Justan first met him. As for Vannya . . . well they had both been avoiding each other.
“You know, Qyxal. It’s a true shame that the only time I see you anymore is when you are making bold and empty threats,” Justan quipped.
The elf clutched at his chest. “Oh, I am wounded! My friend doubts me! Don’t you remember that I won the tournament last week?”
“It was a stroke of luck,” Justan replied.
“So you say, but elves are notoriously lucky, you know. Besides, I have looked at the numbers and if I am correct, Arcon and I are gaining on you. Perhaps tonight will be the night you are knocked off of the pedestal.”
“We shall see.”
For a long time it had looked like there would be no contest. Justan had been far in the lead and it didn’t seem as if anyone could catch him. But in the last month, Justan had been knocked out of the tournament in the early rounds and Qyxal and Arcon were catching up.
Qyxal wasn’t the only one who had noticed how close the numbers were. The grounds were busy that night as students flocked to the Hall of Elements for the tournament. The end of the year was but a few months away and the Grand Trophy hung in the balance. Everyone knew that it would go to one of the three leaders and every student in the school was interested in finding out who the winner would be. There hadn’t been a trophy race this close in many years.
Justan knew that if he wanted the Grand Trophy, he would have to win consistently for the rest of the year. But lately he had been concerned with more important things and though he still found the game enjoyable to play, in the large picture it seemed like a silly thing to get worked up about. He found that his passion for it was diminishing.
In all reality, the main reason that he kept at it was that he knew that there was a hidden meaning to the game that was important. Each time he played, he searched his mind for the answer to the riddle of the game of Elements. He wasn’t close to figuring it out yet.
As Justan and Qyxal entered the hall, they saw that the place was packed. The noise from all the voices was almost deafening and the chaotic swirl of the multicolored robes worn by the students combined with the hall’s regular colors was enough to make Justan’s eyes hurt.
This evening, besides the people playing, there were students of every level that were there just to see the results of tonight’s tournament. There were even quite a few wizards watching. Evidently, the posting of the year-to-date point scores had made even more of an impact than Justan expected.
Justan and Qyxal were assigned their respective tables and after a few minutes, Master Latva entered from a door in the back of the hall decked out in his splendid elemental robe. He wasted no time and raised his intricately carved staff into the air. At that moment the room grew silent. All eyes were on the master. The bent and aged wizard’s eyes were bright tonight and his voice sounded out with even more youth and vigor than usual.
“Let the tournament begin!” he shouted and with a flourish of his wrist, a flash of light exploded from his staff.
For the first game, Justan was seated in the air section of the hall. Wind whistled by constantly, whipping his hair and robe about. Luckily, the magic of the golden table with its intricate blue edging kept the cards from being blown away. Justan was quite used to it by now.
Justan started out the game knowing exactly what he could do with the cards in his hand, but the other players were a mystery. Three of them were students that he had played with before and he knew their levels of skill, but the other two were unfamiliar to him which made things interesting. Justan started the game out slow, but within a couple of hands he knew the styles of the other players well enough to make accurate bids.
Gwyrtha popped curiously into his mind several times during the course of the game wanting to know what he was doing. Each time she did so, he asked her to go away. There were times during the day that he allowed her to see what he was seeing, but during the tournaments he refused to, knowing that images of what was going on in the hall would just confuse her.
Normally her interruptions during the game were quite distracting, but tonight he wasn’t willing to put up with her intrusions. He pushed her thoughts down until he could
barely hear her. He could sense that her feelings were hurt, but he needed every spare thought tonight. He would try to make it up to her later. Perhaps tonight would be the night he snuck out of the school to go and see her. With Gwyrtha out of his mind, Justan was back to his old form and he won the first game fairly easily.
Half of the players were knocked out each round. Usually most of them left and that quieted the room down a bit, but tonight no one left the hall. All were too eager to see the results.
During the second game of the night, Justan played in the Fire section. His chair sat partly in the air section so that his left arm and leg were in the cool air while the rest of his body was oppressively hot. Despite the oddness of the sensation, he knew everyone that he was playing against in this game and he was well aware of their strengths and weaknesses, giving him a distinct advantage.
Justan had found out over time that most of the students in the MageSchool played using a similar strategy. They tried to be crafty and play their weak cards first, saving their strong cards for the end. The problem with this tactic was that sometimes they would get burned early in the hand by taking a trick that they did not intend to. Then, later in the hand, they would be stuck with high cards when they didn’t want to take a trick. He figured that this came from the philosophies and teachings of magic; conserve your energy so that when the right time comes you will have the strength you need.
Messenger of the Dark Prophet (The Bowl of Souls: Book Two) Page 17
