Though it was now well past dark, a bubble of excitement in his belly kept Kalin wide awake. He wasn’t too excited, of course, given the serious nature of his task, but still…
His first assignment. After three years of training in a cloister and only hearing tales of all the great deeds mages performed across the lands, he was ready to do something that would make a real change, to make a tangible difference in the world.
All he needed to do was move a couple thousand pounds of stone.
He thought about that problem as he walked toward the sounds of muffled shouts and the ring of pickaxes against stone.
Even without a dragon, a person could do magic. A regular person off the street could learn to cast simple spells or cantrips, at the cost of using up a spell slot. Some did; a [Blacksmith] might spend evenings studying tomes of theory and practical craft to learn a simple charm to keep a blade sharp, for example, or a [Forester] might learn to spark fire. But for most people, most of the time, it simply wasn’t worth the trouble. It wasn't easy to learn spells; even specialized magic users had to pay the the cost of sore eyes and tired mornings after nights spent studying dusty tomes by flickering light. And [Mages] of any kind were still limited by skill slots.
Unless you had a dragon.
Kalin wasn’t sure how it felt, of course, but the way his friends had described the experience, the rush of intuition and knowledge and power…
As far as anyone could tell, [Dragon-Mages] could learn an unlimited amount of skills. As long as it was related to the aspect of their dragon's power, they could learn a given skill or even invent brand new ones.
And the results spoke for themselves. Kalin had a hard time thinking of a famous hero who wasn’t a [Dragon-Mage]. There was Alextrian, but even she was respected in part because of her strategy in mobilizing and organizing individual dragon-mage units to make the most impact. Ever since dragons had started working with individual humans a few hundred years back, regular [Mages] had fallen out of the limelight, though there were far more of them.
Kalin took a deep breath of cold air, tinged with the smell of pine-tar carried by the wind from the tall torches lining the main street. He may not have done much yet, but he would get there. If saving a group of miners was his first step to defeating the Scourge, then that’s what he would do.
He’d decided on trying the simple binding cantrip that seemed to be the only magic he could do, combined with some clever use of the spare parts he fervently hoped the miners had laying around. Using a technique for visualizing problems that the monks had taught, he had modeled a simple diagram in his head that should work.
Though he might be in trouble if they didn’t have a pulley.
If they did, and had already rigged up something like he’d imagined, he’d use the binding cantrip to reinforce the ropes and anchor points. Failing that, or if there wasn’t a pulley, he’d ask for a map of the mines to confirm there were no other viable entry points. Failing that…
The quarry wasn’t far now, and as he stepped through grass and fallow fields he began to see lights ahead. Not just the soft, warm light of flame, but a harsh blue glow as well.
He frowned as he approached. Mage-lights weren’t exactly rare, but they were far enough from the Order outpost that the cracked and feeble practice lights made by students were not common, and as far as he knew the nearest city where proper mage lights were made in bulk was the capital itself, two hundred miles away.
No one greeted or questioned him as he made his way down the dusty earthen walkway, and as he entered the quarry he realized the sound of picks on stone had stopped. When he made it down to the bottom level, he saw why.
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The problem, apparently, was already being dealt with.
Kalin joined the crowd of dirt-smudged and pickaxe-bearing men and women, which at a powerful cry of, “Stand back!” shuffled slowly backwards. Kalin stayed where he was, and soon stood at the front of the group, staring at a figure that could only have been a [Dragon-Mage].
She stood with arms upraised, wearing beautiful cerulean robes chased with sea-green that perfectly matched the glimmering patterns on the scales of her dragon, who stood by her side with regal grace and pride.
Her dragon was well into adulthood, standing perhaps thirty feet from head to tail. Her eyes rippled with tiny currents, and she blinked slowly at Kalin before turning back to her human partner, adoration in her eyes.
The mage’s hands were in the air, the right holding up her alabaster staff and the left upturned like she was lifting a great weight. From the worked-silver filigree at the end a ball of ocean-blue water began to form, glowing from within as it grew.
The mage and dragon breathed in unison, and as they exhaled the mage thrust forth her staff and sent the stream of water hurtling toward the boulder.
The water struck with such force that Kalin assumed she meant to simply blast the boulder to pieces, but before he could worry about the safety of the miners on the other side, the mage’s upheld left hand tightened in the air like she was grasping something, and the surge of water condensed into a giant liquid hand, sliding its fingers through the tiny cracks in the stone to grip the boulder from all sides.
The glow from the dragon increased, the creature’s scales shook, the ridged fin along her back shivering with the effort.
With a final push and a guttural cry, the mage moved her hand through the air like she was tossing a ball, and a huge grinding noise preceded the boulder flying out of the cave mouth and smashing into bits against the quarry wall opposite.
A ragged cheer of relief came from inside the cave as the first miners tentatively stepped out, and the team of rescuers clapped the mage on the back. She murmured demurely, but her expression changed as a shower of golden sparks fell on her, like the stars themselves showered her form with their praise.
The cleric gasped, and her face lit in a radiant smile. She closed her eyes and looked upward as the miners backed away from the circle of cerulean light around her feet, muttering in awe.
They each had their own classes, of course, and as such they were no strangers to the joy and visceral satisfaction of a major level-up. But most people didn’t get quite such a visible and spectacular display. That seemed to be reserved for [Dragon-Mages]. Kalin had to admit it was quite the sight.
A tower of that same turquoise blue light rose into the sky, visible for miles around.
Once, those towers of light had been an inspiration for Kal, each color the promise of a different, brighter future. Now…
He sighed, chiding himself for a fool.
Even now, the sight filled him with hope. The color of the dragon, tied so closely to its nature and purpose; the intensity of the light, marking for all to see the countless hours of practice and devotion that this one person had dedicated themself to.
It didn’t hurt that everybody around looked at the mage like they were a god come down from the heavens. Kalin knew it was his pride, but he couldn’t help envying the attention and recognition.
This is only the beginning, he reminded himself. After his failed ceremony, Elder Relen, his mentor, had simply smiled, and told Kalin how much sweeter it would be when he found his place, after this setback.
Kalin didn’t quite share the Elder’s magnanimity about the situation, but he knew that, in a way, he agreed. He knew his own heart and could feel the fire in his blood. It wasn’t the if that bothered him, or even when it happened.
It was where exactly he was going to end up that Kalin was worried about, as he watched the pillar of light draw back down from the sky into the mage’s body. He had always dreamed of being a great mage. He would be a great mage. He just...wasn't sure exactly what that would look like, from his current vantage point.
His mom had always told him how small the sky looked at the bottom of a hole, and how huge it seemed from the top of a mountain. The truth was, it was the same sky either way, and even in the smallest patch of sky there were hundreds or thousands of stars. Maybe even other worlds.
Kal looked up at the sky, and tried not to draw conclusions from the bank of low, grey thunderclouds rolling in endlessly from the west, blotting out the night sky completely.
He sighed again, and now that the crowd had thinned out a bit he walked over to congratulate the mage and exchange news. And, he admitted, to get a closer look at her dragon.
As he approached he saw her open the tome at her side, no doubt admiring the updates to her stat page. Kalin felt a pang of jealousy, painfully aware that his own tome would show him nothing but the words he'd written in it earlier that day.
Kalin had pinned his sigil of office to his outer robe, and in the soft cyan light emanating from her book, it was easy to see the surprise writ large across her face when she realized he was a member of the Order too.
“Brother!” she called, as he pulled down his hood. “Where on earth is your dragon?”