Marin's Codex

by Benjamin Medrano

  “I can hardly believe that he actually developed magic. When you claimed that he could learn, I truly thought that you were wrong in that particular case,” Valis said, shaking his head in disbelief.

  “He isn’t Nia’s equal, not by any measure. Talent does matter, quite a bit, as it gives the user a substantial boost on the path to becoming a mage,” Marin cautioned. “Don’t go expecting any random citizen to become a powerful spellcaster. I personally suspect he’ll become a modestly powerful master mage, but not more than that. He might get further, but with similar effort and motivation, Nia will far outpace him, and she might even become a High Mage. In the end, I have the highest hopes for Uthar, though.”

  “Oh? Why’s that?” Valis asked curiously.

  “His training as a musician gives him an incredible base to build on,” Marin said simply. “Even with a minor talent, those together, along with his drive to succeed . . . I suspect he’ll go far.”

  “We’ll have to see. Why don’t I help you clean up in the tower, and ask you a few questions about the research itself?” Valis offered.

  “Fair trade, I suppose. I’m not giving you any lessons early, though,” Marin agreed, grinning. “My usual assistant is out at the lake, playing with water.”

  “I don’t even want to know,” Valis murmured.

  “Ack!” Nia shrieked as she lost concentration and sank into the water up to her waist.

  “Could you try not to be so loud? This is hard enough to manage without you screaming in my ear,” Andrew snapped, his feet submerged to his ankles in the water, no more than five paces from the young woman.

  “Just because you didn’t fall in the water is no reason to be rude!” Nia retorted, looking slightly miserable as she dragged herself out of the lake. “This is hard!”

  “It is hard,” Christoff agreed, looking slightly waterlogged himself, and looking over at Emonael enviously. “I have no idea how you and Uthar are keeping the spell stable so easily, Emonael.”

  The demon and her erstwhile students were all gathered by the lake, trying out one of Emonael’s ideas on how to teach them both better mana control and the ability to multitask. She’d taught them a spell that allowed someone to walk on water, but it was quite finicky. She was sitting cross-legged on the water surface, watching in amusement, while Uthar had his legs spread out and planted firmly on the top of the water.

  “It isn’t easy, Christoff. It takes control,” Emonael corrected gently, and glanced at Uthar. “Uthar, care to give them a bit of advice?”

  “I can try, but I’m not that confident in what I’m doing myself. Let alone casting another spell, I’m having trouble just keeping myself steady,” Uthar said dubiously, his feet bobbing slightly as he spoke. The bard paused, steadying himself before speaking again. “So, I’m not sure how we’re supposed to do this, but it seems like the problem is how much mana you put in it. I’d guess you put a lot of mana into the spell last time, Christoff, with how your feet flew from under you?”

  “Yes, that’s right,” Christoff agreed, scowling at the water. “I thought it’d work better, but instead I nearly cracked my skull.”

  “I fell almost entirely to the bottom, and I didn’t put in much mana . . .” Damiya murmured, her eyes narrowing as she asked, “Are you saying that how much mana we put into the spell determines the effectiveness?”

  “Not exactly. You need a constant stream of mana into the spell, just enough to stay on top of the water, without accidentally—” Uthar told her, but as he was speaking, Emonael saw him begin to slip into the water. As his eyes shot downward, the man abruptly rose to the surface too quickly and his feet flew out from under him, sending him toppling into the water with a loud splash. Emonael redirected a thread of her spell to ward off the water that came in her direction, watching in amusement as Uthar surfaced, sputtering, then finishing. “. . . without that happening.”

  “There are several spells that can be used to walk on water, and this is not the best of them.” Emonael finally took pity on her students, reaching down and scooping up water, and showing them how it floated and writhed in the air above her hand. “This spell pushes water away from you, which is quite useful in a rainstorm, but when water has enough weight, it instead pushes you away. All of you have carried buckets of water from the well, so you know how heavy it is. When Uthar put too much power into his spell just now, he lost any traction on the water and thus his footing. I’m sitting because it gives me far more stability to begin with, but it’s hardly perfect.”

  “What sort of spell is best for walking on water, then? And why aren’t we learning that one?” Nia asked, wringing out her skirt unhappily on the edge of the lake.

  “The other spell that I’m thinking of causes the water to harden to where it’s no different than solid ground where you step, allowing you to treat it as any other terrain. A touch dangerous in stormy seas, since you could hit your head on a wave, but far more reliable than this one,” Emonael told her, smiling as she continued, dropping the water back into the lake. “But as for why, that’s simple. I’m teaching each of you how to control the flow of your mana precisely. Over the next few weeks, we’re going to come out here every day, until each of you can not only walk out at least a dozen paces, but also maintain the spell while casting a simple light spell. Once you’ve managed that, we’ll move on to the next stage of training.”

  “My pardons, Emonael, but may I ask why this aspect of control is so important?” Uthar asked, wading to the side of the lake and pondering a moment before casting a spell, expelling the water from his clothing. Emonael nodded in approval as he continued. “Your training is so different from what I’ve heard Christoff and Damiya describe that I’m somewhat confused as to the intent of this.”

  “Endurance,” Emonael told him, looking at all of them as she raised an eyebrow. “When each of you becomes a master mage, and I expect all of you to reach that point, do you only want to be able to cast a handful of spells each day, then be useless, or to be able to cast as many as possible? Most magi waste extra mana in all of their spells, including me. It does help to make up for minor flaws in the spell’s casting, but it’s still a waste. I’m trying to get better, but I’m nowhere near as precise as Marin is. My teacher’s ability to channel mana into spells is so limited that she learned how to use exactly as much mana as was necessary for a spell. She may take twice as long to cast it, but when I’m worn out, she can continue for hours on end. That’s the first aspect of this training.”

  “The second is that casting a second spell while maintaining the first is simply good practice. Some spells can be used by simply casting them and they last for a period, generally spells that boost the body. Other spells, such as flight, most shields, and others require you to constantly maintain them. You don’t want to render yourself unable to defend the second you take flight, or be unable to attack when you cast a defensive spell,” Emonael explained, and stopped as Damiya cleared her throat.

  “B-but . . . weren’t you unable to attack when we ran into the fire drakes?” Damiya asked, the woman looking confused.

  “That was a slightly different situation. The spell I used required an enormous amount of mana to maintain against both drakes, and they could’ve broken it if they’d each made a concentrated effort to do so, so I was putting everything into the shield,” Emonael told her patiently. “I also knew reinforcements were coming, so I wasn’t going to risk enraging the drakes further when that might be worse than waiting.”

  “An extremely wise decision under the circumstances. Most drakes do grow extremely violent when injured, to the point of blindly ignoring danger.” A voice came from above and behind Emonael, and she turned her head to see High Mage Larin hovering there, the man looking dignified and aloof in his light blue robes. He nodded at Emonael, an odd look in his eyes. “Journeyman Emonael.”

  “High Mage Larin, it’s most unexpected to see you here!” Emonael exclaimed, somewhat startled to see the normally distant m
age, caution racing through her. “What might we do for you?”

  “I saw your group on the lake while on a flight, and decided that investigating would be wise. Do you mind telling me what it is that you’re doing?” he asked politely, not drifting at all in the air, though his hair fluttered in the breeze.

  “I’m teaching my fellow students better control of their mana usage through a water repulsion spell,” Emonael told him after a moment, deciding that telling him couldn’t hurt. “I intend to extend that to holding the spell while they cast another spell to teach them to multitask with magic as well. Today is merely the first day, so I’m not expecting much more than floating from them.”

  “An interesting approach, and potentially an effective one, with the methods that Marin has taught you,” Larin agreed, seeming thoughtful before nodding and looking at Emonael’s students, his voice cool. “What she’s teaching you is a hard lesson for most magi to learn, but few can hope to reach beyond the most basic mastery of magic without learning it. I suggest that you take her lesson to heart and do your best.”

  “Yes, High Mage!” the students chorused, and Emonael couldn’t help a slightly chagrined smile. While none of them had outright disobeyed her, it was obvious that Nia, at least, hadn’t been putting her heart into the lesson, but now she looked far more serious about getting it right. As they began to try to walk on the water again, all of them having drenched themselves by this point, Larin flew closer to her.

  “My apologies for interrupting your lesson, Journeyman, but I’ve found that apprentices tend to grow more focused when they’re given advice by someone they consider particularly renowned,” Larin said, his voice just as distant as always. Still, when Emonael looked him in the eyes, she saw an odd . . . discomfort in them, and after a moment she realized that he was likely just unused to speaking with others in this way.

  “It’s not a problem at all, High Mage. If it helps them learn more quickly, it’s all for the best,” Emonael told him, shrugging as she paused, then added, “Also, I’m still technically an apprentice; not a journeyman.”

  “Semantics. Marin will never give you a journeyman project, and your mastery has obviously already reached that point, to carry on a conversation with me without losing control of your own spell.” Larin dismissed her objection, looking over the others and adding, “Possibly even beyond that. It’s hard to truly judge the rank of a mage, beyond apprenticeships. In many ways, it’s based on reputation. Some High Magi are undeserving of the title, and others who deserve it don’t possess it. That being said . . . having seen the way your students are picking up your lessons, do you mind if I ask you a question or two, regarding the spellcasting method Marin shared with me?”

  He looked slightly uncomfortable having said even that much, and Emonael took a moment to realize why, glancing at her students. Still, it wouldn’t do to assume, so she nodded, speaking calmly. “Of course, High Mage. I can only share limited information due to an oath I swore to Marin, but regarding the first volume of her research, I’m free to speak to you.”

  “Good. I am . . . having difficulties. Not in understanding the methods, but in implementing them,” Larin replied, his words almost grudging. “I’ve been attempting to fix the flaws in my spells, but I keep failing to use the new methods she shared, despite my determination to do so. How are your students able to use them so easily?”

  “I suspected it might be something like that,” Emonael murmured, suppressing a sigh of pity. She considered a long moment before speaking, trying to be forthright without being rude. “High Mage, you’ve been practicing magic for longer than most of my students have been alive. I don’t know how old you are, and I’m not going to ask, but you’ve developed your method of spellcasting for decades or more. For you, it’s habitual, almost instinctive. They don’t have that, so I’m trying to teach them the new method as their basis. Christoff and Damiya were the only ones with magical training, and they didn’t have time to get used to other methods, but even now they occasionally revert to their previous training. You’re trying to change a lifetime of training, and that isn’t something that would be easy to manage.”

  “Of course it isn’t,” Larin murmured, a momentary scowl flickering across his face. “I suppose there’s nothing to be done for it, then.”

  As he prepared to leave, Emonael spoke quickly. “Actually, if I may, High Mage, I’ve a suggestion for you?”

  “What might that be?” Larin replied, turning back toward her.

  “As I said, you’ve mastered your current art of magic over years,” Emonael told him, smiling slightly as she suggested, “Why not pick up a similar art of magic that you’ve wanted to learn before? Use the new methods for learning it, and once you’re comfortable with it, start trying to use the methods with the spells you’ve always used least, and slowly work backward through your magic? You’re already extremely skilled with air magic, so why worry about fixing what isn’t broken?”

  The High Mage paused in place, looking at Emonael for a long few moments as he considered her words. Then, he nodded slightly, his voice quiet. “A very good suggestion, Journeyman. I will consider that, and perhaps try it. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome, High Mage. It’s just a thought,” Emonael replied gently, and watched him race into the sky once more, almost vanishing against the clouds. After a few moments, she turned back to her students and couldn’t help but sigh.

  This time, she was looking at all of them half-submerged in the water, though at least Damiya seemed to have managed to avoid completely losing her spell, and was shakily rising toward the surface of the water.

  “I see that we have a long way to go,” Emonael murmured, then grinned at them. “Another half an hour, then we’ll be done for the day. Don’t get too discouraged. If you try hard, perhaps one day you’ll be able to fly like that.”

  “That would be wonderful,” Andrew said, awe filling his voice as he looked in the direction that Larin had vanished in.

  “Indeed. However, remember, until all of you manage this spell, and a light spell while it’s active, we’ll be coming back here every day,” Emonael told them, her smile almost predatory as she continued. “Next week will be the fall equinox. Do you really want to be coming back here at the onset of winter?”

  Her thinly veiled threat caused Nia’s eyes to go wide, and most of the students quickly murmured protests, but it was Uthar whose reaction pleased Emonael the most. The bard quickly began to cast the spell once more, obviously determined to carry out her request as soon as he could.

  It was a start, at least.

  Chapter 16

  “Marin, how in the blazes are we even supposed to learn this new magic of yours?” Hothar almost snarled, glowering at her across the table.

  “Whatever do you mean, Hothar?” Marin asked, sitting back in her chair, her arms crossed in front of her. “Everything you need should be in the book, though I can answer specific questions as well.”

  “I mean that adapting my spells to your book is damned near impossible!” he said, his voice angry. “Your apprentice seems to have managed it, but I’ve been trying for two weeks and I’m beginning to think this is just another form of magic that only a few people can manage!”

  “Oh? And do the rest of you agree with him?” Marin asked, raising an eyebrow and looking at the other High Magi.

  “I agree that it’s hard, but not impossible, not by any stretch of the imagination,” Valis replied, shaking his head. “Breaking my habits is proving quite difficult.”

  Reesa nodded, leaning forward as she spoke. “I’ve tried to use Marin’s methods, Hothar, and they work. The problem is changing how I’ve done things up until now. I’m making slow but steady progress.”

  “I have had similar experiences, but took the time to approach your assistant, Marin. I’m not certain calling her an apprentice is accurate,” Larin added, a note of amusement in his voice, which caught her attention.

  “Oh? Why do you say that?�
�� Marin asked, her eyes narrowing.

  “She possesses excellent control of her mana, can multitask flawlessly, and was able to point me in the right direction without much difficulty. I suspect that if she shouldn’t be considered a master mage, she should be on the verge of it,” Larin told Marin, seeming even more amused now. “Do you disagree?”

  “Why would I disagree? She could go to nearly any nation and become a respected magister, I imagine,” Marin told him, sniffing slightly, then looking at Hothar. “See? I certainly don’t hear them complaining that it’s impossible.”

  “Damn it all . . . then what am I doing wrong?” Hothar muttered, almost deflating as he sat back. “I’m not used to failing on things like this. Larin, what’d the girl tell you?”

  “Magister Emonael made a very simple suggestion,” Larin replied, emphasizing the title as he sat forward. “She told me that changing the habits built over a lifetime would be difficult, and possibly wouldn’t be worth it, so she suggested I instead start with a new art that I’ve wished to learn for many years. Her advice was wise, and I’ve made a great deal of progress over the last few days. Once I’m used to the methods, I’ll start working back through my own magic.”

  The room was silent for a moment, then Valis groaned and covered his eyes. “Why didn’t I think of that? Why didn’t I ask her that? Hells, why didn’t you suggest it, Marin?”

  “I didn’t suggest it because it never occurred to me to think about, Valis. I’ll point out that I’ve been buried in my research for so long that I’m used to adapting my spells to new methods I come up with,” Marin retorted, shaking her head. “That was entirely Emonael’s suggestion, not my own.”