Chapter Three: I Trip, You Trip,

Caldwell knew three cantrips. He knew Blink, Radiance, and Shocking Grip. He said that he used to remember every single one, but the last time he used one was so long ago that he was amazed that he remembered any at all.

Of the three, Blink was the one that interested Zuglah the most. He had no trouble seeing in darkness, so didn’t get excited at all about the light spell. And the Shocking Grip might have been better without the electricity. That way he could use it for those hard-to-reach herbs. When he said these things to Caldwell, the man contemplated him for quite a while before he replied.

“You are a rare individual, Zuglah Glun. No matter what race I have encountered, when a person is offered power they seize it whatever the cost. But you, you see ultimate power as an opportunity to become a better herb picker.”

Zuglah realized that this statement was actually very true. “I don’t want to smite anyone. I like what you said about making money from dungeons, and how there’s a lot of rare ingredients in those places. What did you mean when you said that potions are more than just herbs?”

“Oh yes. Magical beings have magical properties. That is one thing that is strictly passed down from Alchemist to Alchemist. The second it is known for an effect, that species is hunted. Do you think that I have told anyone where your beautiful field full of flowers is? If I had, that field would be gone by now.”

Zuglah would keep his mouth shut.

They started with the cantrip Blink. Zuglah was just supposed to learn the theory on the first day, but when Caldwell demonstrated the spell, Zuglah was able to imitate him perfectly. Except nothing happened. Caldwell had vanished, and appeared ten feet away with the small clap that Zuglah recognized from before. But when Zuglah did it, nothing. “Do that again,” Caldwell told him. He focused hard, and cast. Nothing.

Zuglah was not surprised, but Caldwell was. “You did the motions perfectly. I think you’re a natural.”

Zuglah was not as excited. “Then why didn’t it work?”

“Well, because you simply have not unlocked your mana yet, that’s why. How can you cast something that is not even there?”

Caldwell decided that now was as good a time as any. They sat on the grass, legs crossed and eyes closed. They used the sounds of the great oak tree above them to carry them away, Caldwell guiding his Troll student as he descended deeper and deeper into a trancelike state.

Zuglah had no trouble following along. Caldwell had a voice that could drone peacefully, yet somehow keep one awake and seeking inwards. It was mesmerizing all on its own. He sank deeper and deeper. He was starting to think there might not be a bottom. And then he saw the Tarn.

That was what it looked like. A huge reservoir of blue liquid stored deep beneath the heart and mind. He flowed over that body of water, somehow not able to touch it despite coming within a hair’s breadth. He heard the words Caldwell was saying. He needed to stop flowing over the water. Stop flying. Stop.

It was such a hard thing to do, but he did it. He had to let the water do the flowing. He hung, suspended above the water. He was not moving. The water was not moving. He waited, above the water. Above.

He wasn’t above the water, not in this place. There was no up or down, except in his mind. He was not moving because he chose not to move. He was not above the water, because he chose not to be above the water, but below it. He was below. It all came down at once.

He felt the weight of all of it, pulverizing him as it washed over him. Then, he was just as suddenly floating in it, suspended. There was no breathing here, because there was no air, no need for it. In another place, his body breathed freely. Here he floated.

Stolen story; please report.

When he opened his eyes he felt at peace in a new way. In his heart of hearts he was full. He looked over at Caldwell and asked him, “Can you please show me that cantrip again?” His voice sounded sleepy, or as though he had been drinking. Caldwell simply nodded.

A large, flame-seared and frozen outline of the old wizard filled his entire vision. Caldwell snapped his fingers. “Ding.” There was a flare, as an invisible black flame inscribed a summoner’s star. Another snap. “Dang.” Himself, placed inside the star. “Doe.” Summoned.

Zuglah snapped his fingers in a semi-circle in front of his face. “Here we go. Ding Dang Doe.” And he blinked.

This time he felt the clap instead of hearing it. He liked that a lot more.

“Zuglah Glun, that was outstanding. You actually cast a spell on your first try ever. You have no idea how rare that really is. And it was no flame lick, either. Tossed yourself right into the Void. Not many people go for it with such conviction on their first try. Well done.”

He had done it. Not with a potion, not some effect or luck. Real magic had come from within his heart to do his bidding.

With a great shout of joy, he leapt about. He snatched the hat right off of the wizard’s head and flung it as far and as high as he could. The hat streaked away as though this was the moment it had always been waiting for. Zuglah blinked again, and caught it before it could land. He felt like he could leap the big ugly tree without a potion. He needed more.

Radiance was easy and boring. A globe of light. But it did lead Caldwell to remember a fourth cantrip, Flame Lick, which was very similar. Only instead of a globe of light, it produced a tongue of flame. While not giving out as much light as the globe, the tongue could be used to ignite just about anything. And it could be thrown surprisingly far for something that had no weight.

And then there was Shocking Grip.

Deceptively simple, but Zuglah just could not get it. There wasn’t even a word or a gesture. One simply sent a jolt of lightning down their arm, and at the right moment they touched something. But the timing was so subtle. The lightning and the object both had to touch the fingertip at the exact same moment. In ten attempts, he did not manage it once. In twenty. On his next attempt, he was so frustrated that he stuck his hand out to his teacher. “Just show me.” Caldwell shrugged, and did as he was asked.

Zuglah immediately fell to the ground, flopping around like a fish on a rock. As tough as trolls were, they had no natural immunity to lightning.

This spell came down to timing and practice. Zuglah didn’t think he would ever find anything he loved to do more than gleaning herbs, but he had not known about magic. What a revelation. He practiced constantly.

He didn’t walk anywhere. He blinked. He could spot a weed from ten feet away, and nail it with a tongue of flames without disturbing any of the flowers around it. He learned how to fix a globe of light to objects without Caldwell even teaching him. And he shocked.

He tried to shock his sandwich when he picked it up. He shocked Caldwell’s staff whenever he walked by it; the few times he was successful, it would generate a satisfying glow in the large white crystal at the top. Any time he was near water, he touched it. Water was an easy one to shock, so was anything metal. It just seemed to draw the lightning out almost as eagerly as the wizard’s staff did.

It was quite without thinking that he was out collecting a Poppin one day, and as he went to reach for it, he sent a gentle surge of lightning into his fingertips. Just a teeny tiny amount.

Of course it exploded. Of course it did.

A cloud of pollen came out of the pod like an Ifrit’s first time out of its lamp in a thousand years. Zuglah blinked and gasped in surprise, inhaling a small amount of the pollen, which just happened to be on fire. No big deal, just flaming, magical pollen with unknown properties down the old esophagus.

Thus began The Coughening. In years to come, this was how they would refer to it. Zuglah was immediately incapacitated with wracking coughs that went on and on. His stomach muscles were on fire, and he gasped for breath. Finally, he opened his eyes.

He was hundreds of feet in the air, and just starting to come down.

He felt like a drunk that had instantly been sobered. His eyes would not stop watering. The wind was so loud.

A portal opened up beside him, keeping time with him as he fell. Caldwell was there, and he seriously and somberly passed Zuglah a carved wooden cup full of water. When Zuglah took it, the portal closed. It wasn’t until he tried to drink the water that he realized that the old man had been having fun with him. He released the cup and blinked.