Candle Claw Archer

Level: 1

With a flick of their fingers, the Inspired conjures a flame which flies from their fingertips and strikes with the strength of a burning arrow.

Every new level grants an additional twenty strides of distance and one candle of heat.

Pvau looked up from the library book, scanning the room for any other late readers.

He was alone in the room. As far as he could tell the only other person in the building was the librarian, back at the main desk.

He'd retreated to the town library straight after work, released from his usual night shift by the hours he'd worked during the day. He'd spent more than an hour reading through the limited selection of formations, looking for any that seemed particularly useful or unique.

He'd found plenty that seemed interesting. He was sure if he ran into someone who could use the Candle Claw Archer spell he'd be impressed, awed, maybe even terrified, but he was sure if he scribed it himself he'd find it disappointing. He couldn't even imagine when he would use such a spell.

Losing patience, he grabbed several of the book's pages at once and turned them, flipping ahead.

Hands of Spirit

Level: 1

While adopting the stance of authority, the Inspired may flick their fingers to apply force to a distant object of their choice.

Every new level grants an additional fist of force.

He could picture it now. Someone standing in the stance of authority, one hand behind their back, the other held up in front of them, flicking their fingers to toss objects, divert charging animals, sweep floors.

What would he use it for? Adjusting the observatory equipment? Hands of Spirit didn't sound like it had the finesse for that.

Feeling increasingly frustrated, Pvau flipped closer to the end of the book.

Companion Lamp

Level: 1

By adopting the position of prayer for six seconds, the Inspired will summon a companion lamp, which floats beside them shedding light. The inspired may direct the lamp to move with words and gestures.

Every new level grants the lamp one candle of brightness and one pace of speed.

Another disappointment. At least this one could potentially be useful.

The formations were listed in a book called Spells Without Beginning or End, an elaborate title meaning that they were just spells that would be useful from someone's first page, and would continue to be useful no matter how strong their spirit grew.

Pvau had been excited to sit down and begin his research, but no matter how many books he looked through every formation seemed oddly disappointing.

Any one of them would give him supernatural powers he could only have dreamed of before, all he had to do was feed them to his Index, but at the same time none of them spoke to him.

They all seemed so mundane. Tricks that, while useful, did nothing to fuel his imagination. The ones that would actually be useful to him were even worse.

The Companion Lamp probably would serve him well in his daily life, he'd never need candles or oil again, but the thought of dedicating his only page to something that could be trivially replaced with a burning stick galled him.

To a miner or chemist it could be invaluable, but if he took it he'd feel cheated compared to some of the other formations, not that he wanted those either.

If he wanted to shoot people with arrows, he could just learn to use a bow. Moving distant objects had potential, but he could already move objects, its real world use would be niche at best.

He went back to the shelf and replaced the book of spells, grabbing a volume of combat formations to browse through instead.

He opened it while he was still standing at the shelf, leafing through at random.

Blade of Spirit's Wrath

Level: 1

The Inspired gains a straight sword which can be summoned by grasping with an upraised hand, and dismissed by casting away.

Every new level grants the blade one fist of additional striking force.

That would be useful to a soldier, or a fledgling errant, Pvau thought. Having a sword that lasted their entire life and didn't need maintenance could save a professional fighter a lot of time and money, and the advancement built into it would let them apply the strength of their spirit directly to fighting.

Unfortunately, it was useless to Pvau. He wouldn't be upset if he never got into a fight, and unlike nearly every other boy his age he'd never been enamored of swords while growing up.

He turned a page and found Birra's formation, the Fourfold Fleet of Foot body enhancement.

Fourfold Fleet of Foot Enhancement

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

Level: 1

Your feet will grip or slip the ground as you desire, regardless of terrain or surface.

While sprinting your speed is increased by one half-pace for every second level.

The distance of your leaps is doubled for every third level.

Above fourth level, your feet do not exert weight on the surface below them.

This was the complete version, none of the parts were hidden or locked as they had been in Birra's Index. If he were to scribe this, only the first part would appear on the page, until he raised its level enough to access the later enhancements.

He went back to his chair and continued flicking through the book. There were conjured bows, conjured glaves, talents to alter the trajectory of arrows after they'd been fired, talents to withstand injuries.

He was only looking in the book of combat formations out of desperation. None of them were for him.

He stayed at the library until night bell. The librarian found him still hunched over a pile of books, and ushered him out before closing the library for the night.

He walked home anxious and despondent, and suddenly hungry, having missed dinner.

The dark moon of Dasleight hung overhead, huge and perfectly clear. He tried to comfort himself by scanning his eyes across it, picking out the cities by the webs of light they cast, recalling their Lasean names.

His pace slowed as he approached his house, a four-room building of clay bricks and wooden supports.

Pvau's mom was meant to be at work that night, but he could tell from the lamplight streaming out under the door that she was already home. He opened the door with a heavy heart.

"Pvau, what did you pick?" she asked, as soon as Pvau walked through the door. There was a weird urgency in her voice.

His mother was sitting at the kitchen table with her blades arrayed out in front of her. A set of six identical knives, her shortsword from the town guard, and a long blade Pvau hadn't seen before. It looked like she was methodically working each one of them with a sharpening stone.

"Nothing," Pvau said. "Nothing yet."

She let out a heavy breath.

"I know you're going to want to choose something useless, but you have to scribe a fighting page. Can you go back and get a combat spell, or a summoned weapon?"

Pvau grit his teeth, but tried not to show his annoyance on his face.

He probably could remember one of the combat spells he'd seen well enough to scribe it from memory, but that wasn't the issue. He didn't want to dedicate his first page to fighting. Depending on how the rest of his life went, it might be the only page he ever got.

"No, the library's already shut," Pvau said instead. "And I don't want to join up with the Guard. I already have a job in the observatory."

"And it was a good job for you. But I'm telling you, you have to scribe a combat page. I think I have something in my notes."

She got up from the table and left the room, disappearing down the hall.

Pvau considered leaving the house and going somewhere else. A walk through the market, or maybe he could visit Birra. His mother returned before he'd built up enough momentum to make the decision.

She was carrying a battered journal, and as she approached she pulled a loose page from it, passing it to him.

She stood there staring at him, and he dutifully looked down at the sheet. It had a formation written on it, fairly simple, written out in the same format as the ones in the library.

Stone Blade Spirit Resistance

Level: 1

Strikes which would break the Inspired's skin or bone are robbed of some of their force.

It seemed incomplete to Pvau. There were no details about the amount of force, or how the formation would progress. It reminded him of the old-style formations Ibeso had mentioned.

He looked up at her.

"Why would I want this?"

"It's useful. It'll protect you from accidents, and help you if you have to fight." Seeing that he wasn't being convinced, she went on. "So you want to work at the observatory. What if you fall from the tower? This could save your life."

"Do you have this?" Pvau asked.

"No, but I thought about it. It's a good formation."

Pvau shook his head, handing the note back.

"I already know what I'm going to scribe."

He hadn't before he got home, but it wasn't a lie if he decided right that instant.

"What?" his mother asked, her tone dead.

"The Observatory has a special formation. They don't normally give it to people until they've worked there for years, but Ibeso offered it to me."

"An institutional formation?" his mother asked, her conviction wavering. "What is it? Will it keep you safe?"

"I don't think I'm allowed to say," Pvau said, both because it was true, and because the answer, no, would probably bring her down against it.

His mother turned slowly and slumped back into her seat at the table. She picked up a knife and started running the sharpening stone against it.

"Why is it so important that I get a combat spell now?" Pvau asked. "I never even considered joining the Guard."

"Just things I've been hearing, some trouble to the north," his mother said. "But the observatory's safe. They'll keep you out of the way, if they're really that comitted to keeping you."

Pvau turned away from her, thinking, and quietly started to prepare a meal.

The following morning, the decree came down from the Beystead administration, that every adult in the town must obtain a bow or close weapon and spend an hour a day training in its use. It was the kind of law a town used to ensure it had a functioning militia, not seen since the days of the last war.