For three days now, Apple had been hard at work building a forge. The magician turned merchant possessed no experience in the art of forging at all, all he had to rely on his brief of observations of the task being performed and that arcane intellect of his.
What he quickly realised was he needed something to allow the melted copper to take the shape of thin wire. After a day of pondering and using a lifetimes knowledge of some book reading, Apple dug a long trench into the forest dirt, the depth and width of a plump garden worm.
Afterwards he then made a pot container out of fire-mud for the purpose of holding the liquid copper.
It took two days for those two tasks to be completed, with the third day being nothing but gathering fuel for the future fire. It was not until the night of the third day when everything was ready.
On top of a mountain of twigs, bark, logs, and dried leaves rested a large brown pot with a shiny orange object poking out from its brim. With everything ready in place, Apple sat down in front of the pile of kindling, placed his hands on the outer layer, and summoned the dwimmer in his stomach to his hands.
“Cambigin... Cambigin... Cambigin...” Apple chanted with a harsh whisper.
It took about a minute for the pile of kindling to smoke and ignite. However, Apple kept his palms on the pile. No ordinary camp fire would melt the copper, he had no choice but to keep pumping the element of fire into the growing flames.
Long painful minutes past until the entirety of the man-made hill had been consumed by blaze. The waving scarlet weaves sizzled and roared, drowning out the sound of Apple’s mantra.
“Cambigin... Cambigin... Cambigin...” He still uttered, even whilst his hands began to sting with an unnatural redness.
It was not until nearly two hours had passed until Apple finally stopped chanting. His hands never once moved from their position. Even as they begged to be released from their oblivion, even when Apple began to feel blisters form on his fingertips and the skin on his palms become dried flakes that fluttered away in the wind. He only gave his hands peace when it became apparent that the fuel feeding the fire had reached its burning limits. Not wanting to waste even a second for the mud pot to cool down, Apple grabbed it with primitive wooden prongs he made earlier and poured it into his worm-shaped moulds.
He walked backwards awkwardly as he spilled the molten liquid into dirt mould. The gooey metal was quickly emptied and began to hard with a surprising speed.
With nothing left to do but wait for the copper to completely cool, Apple began treating his wounds.
**********
Apple wrapped strips of black cloth around his hands, after hours of submerging them in the cold nearby lake. It took almost all the willpower he had to free his hands from the icy-cold water, for as soon as his fresh burns kissed air Apple would scream. With his hands now covered in fabric, Apple lamented on his lack of ability to aid his blistering hands any more. He was lucky that magicians possessed a small resistance to the elements otherwise the pain he felt right now would have been so much greater he would have passed out long ago. For now, he was only merely panting, with only the occasional tear drops leaving his eyes.
Apple had little choice but to ignore the pain that tormented him for now. Apple rose from where he sat and headed towards where the copper was cooling and inspected his work.
There were dribbles and splotches of now solid metal scattered everywhere. The wires were too fat in some places and too skinny in others. Most of the wires looked as if there were a battalion of air bubble trapped inside. Shoddy, shoddy work but Apple expected as much.
Deciding it was now too dark to do anything else, Apple went to sleep and tried to ignore the sound of his own screams.
When Apple awoke in the morning, he instantly noticed the feeling of wet scabs crinkling and tearing apart slightly as he carefully moved his hands. He grimaced sourly and carried on his plans for the day in a foul mood.
He freed copper wires from their dirt moulds with his knife, while chewing on a piece of dried venison as he did so.
Afterwards he wrapped the wires around the grey iron of his staff’s spine. This was a lot harder than he had anticipated, due to the sharp pains that now occurred whenever his hands moved this became one of the most painful things Apple had ever done.
Once the wires were wrapped tightly and evenly; the next stage was to attach the crystals. First, however, he needed to grind them into a powder so they could be sprinkled evenly across the spine, instead of just bulbous gems scattered across it like some kind of primitive goblin’s staff.
This stage took the unfortunate Apple all morning. Hours and hours of hitting shards of quartz and amethysts with his damaged hatchet, hoping they would shatter instead of just fly away into vast flora like they kept doing when he struck them. Apple licked the tears that fell into his growing moustache to distract himself from his body’s spasms. At least when he finally made the gems small enough, he could proceed with the much easier method of placing them in his mud pot and bash them repeatedly with his pummel of his knife. The entire ordeal hurt worse than the questionable banter of a new step-mother.
Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.
Next came coating the now copper-clad iron rod in a thin layer tree sap. Apple used the sap of a voluptuous looking oak tree from nearby.
After the coating, Apple got to briefly experience what he imagined it was like to be a forest fairy and playfully sprinkled the crystal dusk all over the sticky iron spine. He concluded his fun by gluing the fist-sized amber to the top of the rod. Once he was positive all the three materials of his catalyst were touching each other harmoniously, Apple celebrated with lunch of more rock-hard dried meat.
With that done, there was only one final step to do before wrapping it in its skin, unfortunately for Apple this task once again involved fire.
In the time it took for a lowly maggot to transform into a common horse fly, mate, and die, Apple had once again gathered a hefty sum of kindling. He was thankful to whatever god was in charge of fire these days that this part of the process did not require him to place his hands in the flames again. No, all that was needed this time was a strong but normal flame to soften the metals so they could fuse together. Tree sap was a great holder of materials, but it would not be capable of coping with the rigorous staff wielding of a homeless magician.
Although, Apple was still required to start the fire with magic, unless he wanted to spend hours bashing rocks into each other, hoping for a spark instead.
“Cambigin... Cambigin... Cambigin...” He mumbled the old word for fire once more. The rudimentary spell worked, but at a cost of searing hot pain that contorted the flesh and skin of his hands. This basic incantation of his had annihilated any sort of healing his hands had undergone since they were first burned.
With nothing to do while the welding process was in play, Apple once again ventured off to the lake to soothe his sizzling palms.
**********
“Soon. Soon.” Apple buzzed as he washed the smoke covered staff of his.
It was a new morning and Apple was in a terrific humour now that he was only one step away from completing his first staff. All that was left now was to cover the rod in a protective skin of wood. He knew just the tree. A great and mighty oak tree of about two hundred years of age. A magician did not want the wood of a tree too old for the skin was too brittle and flaky. Apple was hoping to come across a higher quality wood like mahogany, but decided this sublime oak tree would be just as good, it most certainly had nothing to do his inability to recognise the difference between most tree types.
After washing and drying his precious creation, he fastened it to his back and headed into the forest to find his chosen tree.
After about half an hour of walking Apple found the standing oak and got to work. Deciding he wanted to keep the bark intact for a more natural rugged appearance for his staff. He climbed the tree and looked for a branch big enough and strong enough for his staff.
It did not take him long, due to the thicker branches typically being lower on the tree. He then went through the agonising task of chopping his chosen branch. Forced to grip his axe even tighter than usual because of the cloth strips wrapped around his hands, with every minute action causing him to sweat and shudder.
One final good whack with his iron blade separated the branch from its host and crashed to the ground. Apple climbed down after it and continued to chop the wood into the length his iron rod.
It would take the grocer the entire day to shape the wood into the magic insulating skin he desired. Chipping away splinter by splinter with his knife at the wood’s centre, over and over again. When the tip of his knife could no longer reach the slender hole he had dug, Apple stabbed at the hole with various stick scattered across the forest floors for hours upon hours. Hollowing a piece of wood of around five feet and eight inches was no easy feat, requiring a monotony great enough to drive someone insane with boredom. If Apple was not used to days on end of mind-numbing silence and repetitive survival, he most definitely would have quit the endeavour long ago.
**********
“I did it! I did it!” He proclaimed to the heavens above. “Me, the hopeless academy novice has created a magical staff completely by myself!” What Apple boldly declared to the evening sky was indeed true. For nearly a year the empty-handed magician had been attempting to create something that would once again allow him to wield the forces of nature. Blood, sweat, tears, skin, and most importantly time had been spent on this goal of his. The staff was crude looking and made of materials that a common magician would never even consider when making their own catalyst, yet Apple loved his creation like an uncle loved their rambunctious nephew.
The staff was thick, heavy, and only an inch shorter than himself, but Apple didn’t care. How many magicians out there could say that they built their own catalyst completely from nothing? Apple wagered none. Maybe a lower creature like a filthy goblin or a kobold, although they typically either inherited theirs's or simply stole it from someone else.
With nothing left to do now but use his new toy: “Brinro gwy minum ghar. Fli ener, fest, teas.” He vibrated, his voice echoing slightly, as if he was repeating himself after each other word in a slightly deeper tone.
With the incantation complete and his new staff aimed at a tree in front of him a torrent of water, shrouded in a white smoke, slammed into the tough bark with a wet thud. The geyser continued to spring from the faintly glowing amber fixed atop of the staff for around eight seconds.
Once the spell was over and the mist became diluted by the wind, Apple appraised his attack. “Damn, only some of the bark had been blasted off. With my old wand I could expose the innards of a tree with the width of a pig’s head. About in half the time too.” He grumbled. Though, he should not have complained too much. Apple was well aware of the inferiority of his staff when compared to the modern-day wands. Besides, this was not the limit of his catalyst’s capability, the more one uses and grows accustomed to their magical aid, the better it becomes. He also could not just blame the staff for its capabilities, the vast majority of a magician’s power comes from oneself. Apple desperately needed to start training again.
So, for the next week, that is what Apple did. Hours upon hours of performing the few spells he knew over and over again, followed by intense meditation. If a fighter wished to become stronger, they must abuse their muscles over and over, forcing them to become stronger to protect themselves. If a magician wished to become stronger, they must look inside of their own bodies and force the dwimmer that fuels their power to grow in magnitude as muscles do.
Apple also tried to exercise his body as well as his mind but alas his burned hands made it excruciatingly difficult to move his body in many ways. Over time he was at least able to aid in the speed the healing process with magic however, he was no healer and knew none of their spells. At least he was able to firm up his buttocks with an exercise regime almost entirely made up of squatting.