The Magic, Warped (The MagicWarper Trilogy Book 1)

by Rick Field

  She resisted the urge to pout. Sometimes her background came back with a vengeance. “We have an agreement, then, My Lord.”

  He nodded sharply. “Very well. Let us go and announce our decisions, My Lady. I believe that, by the time we have done so, lunch will have been prepared, and I will need your assistance in explaining the basics of Runes, Glyphs, and Magical Symbols to me.”

  Liane nodded, and stood up before he could jump to his feet and offer her a hand up. Her body no longer hurt after ten minutes under a hot shower, but her magic was still low, and probably would remain so until she got in a good night's sleep. At least it was calm this way, and wouldn't bother her.

  “I believe that you are trying to convince me to help you achieve an unfair advantage, My Lord,” she replied gently as they walked to the administrative building.

  “If I may remind My Lady, I am not the one who had a Proctor who took her to this course once before, and therefore, already has intimate knowledge of the subject,” he replied without a twitch in his voice.

  She chuckled once. “Your point is well received, My Lord.”

  “As I thought it would be, My Lady,” Milor replied with a small smirk tugging at his lips.

  They walked along in silence, Liane not giving him the satisfaction of replying to either his comment or his minor facial expression. Entering the administrative building, they made their way to the registration office on the top floor. Another dozen students were already present, standing in an orderly queue, waiting their turn.

  It took no more than twenty minutes before their turn came up, and Milor gracefully allowed her to go first.

  Seated in front of the administrative worker, Liane was given a list of available courses, and was requested to make her choice. Even though she already knew what she wanted to take, she still read it, double-checking her mental list against the physical one.

  Available courses at the Kirian Academy of Magic:

  Transmutation & Alchemy (2 years)

  Rituals & Ceremonies (1 year)*

  Healing & Nostrums (2 years)

  Curses and Hexes (2 years)

  General Applications (4 years)

  Runes, Glyphs & Magical Symbols (2 years)

  Wards, Shields & Magical Protections (2 years – requires following prerequisites: Runes, Glyphs & Magical Symbols)

  Blood Magic (1 year)**

  Deep Secrets & Ancient Lore (2 years – requires following prerequisites: Blood Magic, Rituals & Ceremonies, Transmutation & Alchemy, Runes, Glyphs & Magical Symbols)

  * Rituals & Ceremonies requires the use of a wand

  ** Blood Magic requires the use of an athame

  Liane filled in the sheet as she had decided previously. She wanted to be in the Lord Master's Deep Secrets & Ancient Lore class, and was willing to take the prerequisites to do so. General Applications was just plain common sense, as nearly everybody took it in order to be able to simplify their lives using magic, and Curses & Hexes was something she only needed to take if she wanted to be decent at protecting herself. Mock-fighting with Milor may help her, but that help would do her no good without any actual fighting spells. She had no interest in healing, or in wards and shields.

  She ticked her choices for years four and five: Transmutation & Alchemy, General Applications (from years four to seven), and Runes, Glyphs & Magical Symbols, before handing her sheet back. Curses and Hexes would need to wait for years six through eight. She was running out of available time during years four and five.

  The administrative worker scanned the list, and did not blink as she filed the form. “Your courses will be made available, My Lady. A book list will be made available to you, as will a recommended reading list. Class schedules will be determined in the next few days and the course list will be made available to you at the beginning of next week. Does My Lady have any questions?”

  The phrase was stuffed with Decorum, but the rattling way in which the woman had spoken made it sound more like a rut than an actual expectation of Liane posing any questions.

  “I have none at this moment, My Lady. My thanks for your assistance,” she replied, standing up, and nodding to the woman, before leaving the room. Milor had been admitted to another administrative worker, and Liane waited outside the administrative building for him to finish. He was not far behind her.

  She turned, and looked at him, wishing she could lift an eyebrow in question.

  He seemed to understand her gaze nonetheless, and said, “The answer to your question is yes, My Lady. I have signed up for Runes, Glyphs & Magical Symbols.”

  Liane's lips formed a smile. “Thank you, My Lord.”

  He stopped, forcing her to stop and turn to face him one more. “My Lady, I do believe I have fulfilled my part of the bargain we have struck. Would it now be possible for My Lady to answer the question she herself has posed me?”

  Liane blinked, and looked sheepish. Her friend was annoyed with her – he only ever referred to her in the third person when he was annoyed. “My apologies, My Lord. It was not my intention to force you into anything you did not wish to do.” She motioned for the laboratory building. “Let us go to the library, My Lord, and I will do my best to explain the basic functions behind the ever-blue skies of the Academy.”

  Milor nodded, mollified. “Very well, My Lady. Let us proceed.”

  She guided him to the library using the shortest route she knew of – a little-known back passage in the laboratory building ending in a small wooden staircase that was not frequented as often as the main staircase, allowing them to descend into the basement, housing the impressive library of the Academy. Cutting across the first underground level to emerge at the giant staircase leading further down, Liane preceded down to the second level underground.

  “My Lady?” Milor asked from behind her, causing her to halt and turn to face him.

  “My Lord?”

  “I do believe this particular level is off-limits to Initiate-level students, My Lady,” he said.

  “I do believe that we are now Assistant-level students, My Lord,” Liane replied with a cheeky little smile. “Before, I was the Assistant to My Lady Proctor. As an Assistant, I had access to all works required for her studies.”

  “I had forgotten we would be considered Assistant-level after handing in our study lists, My Lady,” he said, looking just as apologetic as he could while under Decorum. Liane dipped her head once, proceeded down the staircase to the second level, and opened the door. It did not refuse her, as Milor had halfway thought it would, and followed her.

  He had never before been on this level, and chose to have a good look around. Liane, having spent hundreds of hours on these levels, had seen it all before. She patiently allowed him time to look around, remembering how she herself had felt when Mariam had taken her here for the first time – now so very long ago.

  That reminded her; she needed to write to Mariam. Their last correspondence had been some time ago.

  When Milor finally realized what he had been doing, and sent her a small yet sheepish look, Liane merely preceded him to a particular shelf without looking around, to withdraw a single book from sheer memory, barely glancing at the title.

  She took it to one of the more secluded working areas near the back of the library, giving them both privacy and quiet, and Liane sat down at the first available table. Milor sat down in front of her, looking amused at how familiar she was with this part of the massive place. She pushed the book to him. “This is the book I first used to learn the basics of Runes, My Lord. I will try and teach you, for as long as you want me to.”

  Liane took one sheet of paper from the stack supplied on the table, and a pen from her bag. She wrote, with beautiful calligraphic script, two lines of strange and unusual symbols onto the sheet, then turned it, and put it on top of the book, so it was facing Milor.

  “These two lines are the basics upon which the charms, wards, shields, protections, and other enchantments of the entire Kirian Academy are based, My Lord,” Li
ane explained. “They do not make sense to you now. However, after a few lessons, you will begin to understand the meaning of them. For now, please allow me to explain in broad lines.”

  Milor nodded, refusing to look at the symbols. Merely looking at them made a headache start to form. “Does My Lord know the difference between permanent and non-permanent enchantments?”

  He told her that he did, indeed, know the difference. “Good,” Liane spoke. “That will make this easier, My Lord. As you know, permanent enchantments require a connection to a person in order to draw power. Non-permanent enchantments use a power token. However, there is a third category. This category is largely unknown, and not often talked about. These are enchantments that are permanent, without the need of a power token.”

  “Like the ever-blue sky, My Lady?”

  “Exactly, My Lord,” Liane said with a faint smile, glad to have an attentive student. “Wards and shields fall under this category as well. These enchantments draw their power directly from nature, from the environment, without the need of a power token, or the need of a connection. The reason they can do this is because of those two lines, My Lord.” She tapped the sheet between them. Despite his promise not to look, Milor looked. His brain felt like it was starting to grow within his skull, and he hurriedly looked away. The pressure ebbed away.

  “This method is called anchoring, My Lord,” Liane said after a few seconds, as if trying to give him time to recover. “The anchor is a stone, the smallest possible size of which is one meter cubed, that is to say, a cube of one meter by one meter by one meter. The reason for its size is the number of runes required to create a successful anchor. The larger and more elaborate the shield or the effect, the larger an anchor is required, to be able to channel sufficient power to fuel the enchantments.”

  “Hence the reason why it can only be used for large spells, My Lady?” Milor asked.

  “Exactly, My Lord. Anchors are only used to power shields or wards or large spells over buildings, simply because the anchoring method in itself is inherently non-mobile. The anchor has to be buried.”

  Milor seemed to think this over, before nodding. “I see,” he whispered. “Not only is it a massive stone, it must also be buried. That would indeed make it stationary, My Lady. Thank you for the explanation.”

  “You are welcome, My Lord,” she answered.

  *****

  Liane sat, a thousand-page ancient book perched on her lap, on one of the benches facing the large silver fountain at the center of the Academy courtyard. Above her, the magical sun of the Sun Charm blazed.

  It was yet another peaceful day at the Kirian Academy of Magic, yet Liane felt far from at peace. The tome was open on an advanced theory of transmutation, yet Liane was not reading it. Her eyes were fixed on the ever-shifting silver fountain.

  Magic to the wielder, she thought bitterly as the fountain shower her shapes of grotesque horror, visions of such a terrifying nature that they struck fear and desperation into her heart. She sighed deeply, and looked away. The book in her lap had lost its appeal long ago, and she did not look at it.

  Once more, she looked at the fountain. The unnatural horror had changed shapes. And Liane grit her teeth against the fear and loathing it inspired within her.

  Why was it so difficult for her to use magic? Why did her magic constantly and determinately refuse to obey even the most basic of commands without the need of extended rewriting of magical spells that bothered on begging?

  Never before did she realize how much she had depended on those she followed. No longer was there a Lady Mariam who would show her Runes, even though the Rules of Equality forbade it. No longer was there a Cassandra to be her Proctor to guide and teach her, and whose very presence and reputation would shield her. No longer did she have someone to share classes with.

  For the first time, Liane felt the bitter loneliness that came with the extended and insular study-schedule she had been following for years. Her fellow Mages did not like her, in fact, they barely tolerated her, and with the loss of her Proctor, she no longer had the presence of an upper-year Mage to shield and protect her.

  Her grades, those based on theoretical knowledge, were unrivaled. Her practical magic, those that she had time and preparation for, was firmly in the top five percent. Thanks to her need to dissect and rebuild each and every spell, she understood magic better than most, and it was thanks to her extended experience with it that she was able to do things none of her classmates could – if only she were given the time to write out the spells required.

  Unfortunately, that was not always the case, especially during the more advanced classes she had elected to take. Runes, Glyph & Magical Symbols was her easiest class, her knowledge with those scripts having long-since passed the level needed to even pass the final exam of the course. Transmutation & Alchemy was a disaster, on the other hand. That course did not rely on set structures or rigid spells – it relied on art, on feeling.

  It required the user to be aware of what an object was, and what the object would become – and every step of the way required subtle changes, subtle differences, in the way the magic was manipulated.

  And Liane's unstable magic would rather see her blow herself up instead of obeying, it seemed.

  After four months, she struggled even with the most basic of transmutation exercises, her magic making it all but impossible for her to complete the exercise with any steady success. More often than not, it failed, and failed spectacularly.

  It may be amusing to her fellow students, but it was far from amusing to Liane.

  Once more, she balled her fists. Why won't you just do as I say? She thought angrily to the earth-like magic settled in her chest. For just a fleeting moment, Liane had the uncomfortable notion of her magic staring at her in blank astonishment, as if it heard her speak an alien language, but it was gone before she could pay any broad attention to it.

  The fountain had switched from eldritch horrors to the just plain bizarre, shapes that could have meant anything and everything, and probably did. What do I need to do to get you to listen? She asked silently, closing her eyes. Please, tell me.

  Again, the same feeling of blank astonishment. This time, it was more pronounced, or perhaps she was getting better at catching it. But, it was a start.

  The warmth of the sun changed, and she became aware of a shadow falling over her. Raising her head and opening her eyes, and looked at the face of her one friend.

  “Good morning, My Lord,” she told Milor.

  “Good morning, My Lady,” he replied politely. “May I sit? It appears as if you could use a friend right about now.”

  She motioned for the empty space next to her. “Please do, My Lord. And yes, I do believe I could use a friend, although I believed that you would be engaged this morning?”

  “True,” Milor answered easily as he sat down and stared at the fountain. Not for the first time, she wondered what he saw, and if it changed shapes on him like it did for her. “However, when I saw you, I decided that my friend was more important than a brisk morning run with the other Warlocks. May I ask what troubles you so?”

  Liane sighed. “For the first time, I find myself doubting my convictions,” she whispered. “I promised Proctor that I would become Prime Student, and yet I find myself doubting if I will succeed. Magic comes so easily to everyone, yet I have to spend sixteen hour days to be able to excel. And yet, despite how easy it comes to them, most others do not seem interested at all in studying magic!”

  She placed the book on the bench, and got up, her magic shifting from earth to air, animating her and feeding on her changing emotional states, and feeding back into it in turn. She paced back and forth energetically, waving her hands as she spoke.

  “I find myself without Proctor or mentor, with only one friend to call my own, with classmates who dislike me for my disability, who mock me for my shortcomings and refuse to lend aid for my troubles. I study long and hard, and receive neither commendation, admiration, or even
positive results from it!”

  She stopped pacing, the magic shifting at once from air back into earth. With a small huff, she literally fell back onto the bench. “Perhaps it is not worth it, and I should just surrender. Do what I can to pass the Transmutation & Alchemy course, and surrender to the inevitable. I will never be a great mage, nor even a good one. I will merely be good with runes and theory. Perhaps it is all I am good for.”

  Milor had remained silent as she spoke; merely watching as her agitation burnt itself out. “How long has it been since you did something other than study, My Lady?” he finally asked, when it became apparent that she would say nothing else.

  She shrugged, yet said nothing. Milor diplomatically ignored the breach of Decorum. “I believe that is the first part of your problem. I believe that the Lady Cassandra often took you away, did she not?”

  Liane nodded once, feeling her chest tighten at the memory of all the fun things she did with her former Proctor. “Working for so long, and so hard, without pause, has drained you, My Lady.” he stood up, and extended one hand. “Please know this, My Lady. There are people out there who care for you, who love you, and who support you. People such as the Lady Cassandra, or the Lady Mariam with whom you have been exchanging letters for as long as I have known you. And yes, even if I am your only friend, I, too, care for you. As my presence proves.”

  She swallowed, looking up at him, and his outstretched hand. “Please come with me, My Lady. Let us return that book to the library, and let us enjoy a stroll through that common market you enjoy so much.”

  Placing her hand in his, she allowed him to assist her to her feet. Half an hour later, they were walking through the market, and Liane felt the energy, the sounds, and the smells renew her spirits. It was not the first time she had taken him with her to the market, one of the few leftovers from her previous life as a Commoner that had survived. As always, she admired his posture: head high, chest straight. Where people granted her space because of her mode of dress, they gave him space because of his very posture and attitude that demanded obedience and respect.