Maiz woke to the sound of a bell tolling, and he groaned involuntarily as he felt the pain and soreness racking his entire body. All around him, he heard similar groans and moans of sleepy young men, as everyone complained at the start of the new day. In minutes though, all of them--including Maiz--were up and changing into their training clothes. Maiz had seen what happened to those who were late to the roll call, and he had decided that he would never endure that himself.

As Maiz pulled his tunic on, and tried to rub the grogginess from his eyes, something slammed into his back, causing him to stumble forward a few steps. Turning, he hid his annoyance behind a half-genuine smile.

“Morning Maiz!” Hugan looked wide awake and cheerful, despite the fact that the sun had yet to come up over the horizon. Maiz himself had been waking before dawn for years, but he had never felt even close to awake until well into the morning. Even more, his body was incredibly stiff, muscles tense and sore from the exertions of the day before. His stomach still ached slightly from the blow he’d suffered the day before, but Ziya had told him that it would take a full week for that to go away.

He gave Hugan a half-hearted wave. “Morning. Ready to go?” This room hardly smelled better than his old one. When Hugan nodded, they left the barracks and started moving towards the training field. Once there, they made a stop at the building on the end of the field, where a line of Novices was already forming.

“So, how’s the mage training going?” Hugan asked, turning to Maiz again.

Maiz felt his face heat up slightly. That was almost welcome--there was still a definite chill in the air from the night before. “It’s a lot gentler than this part of my day,” he answered with a weak chuckle. In all honesty, after the fiasco in the training field, he’d been completely unable to focus for the rest of the time. After Ziya healed him, he’d finally cast Flaming Strike a few times, but he hadn’t really felt like he’d learned anything useful.

The only good thing about the practice was that he hadn’t seen Hakim again. Just thinking about the elderly mage made Maiz’s mouth press into a thin line, though he wasn’t certain how angry he should really be. The man’s attacks had been unjust, but, if not for Maiz being totally unprepared, it wouldn’t have been much worse than what he’d endured from Haddad on his first day. And it had felt so good when Maiz had thought he was going to get revenge on the bastard. Part of Maiz was guilty about that feeling. Another part revelled in it.

Maiz jerked his head up. Had Hugan been saying something? Now the other young man was looking at Maiz expectantly, as if waiting for an answer to some question. Say something, idiot.

“Uh, yes,” Maiz said lamely.

Hugan smiled, but it was not his usual expression of boyish enthusiasm and charm. Instead, it was a suggestive, conspiratorial look, and Maiz instantly regretted his lack of attention. “My ba always said that a woman who could put you on the ground was the only woman worth chasing!”

What? Who the hells is he talking about? Why is he talking about them? Maiz was saved from having to formulate a response by the line shuffling forward, allowing Hugan and he to enter the little building. The inside was full of supplies, including the sacks of grain and barrels of water that Maiz and Hugan had ridden in with. The room’s most salient feature was the basket full of bread, as well as the barrels of water with wooden cups stacked next to them. A few of the buckets had wooden cups stacked next to them, others were set nearer. He and Hugan each took their piece of bread and cup of water, and exited to the side of the building

Maiz was worried that he would have to talk more with Hugan about… whatever it was he’d been saying, but he needn’t have been. The instant they were back outside, Hugan began wolfing down his bread with a vengeance. Maiz smiled slightly, and started eating as well. The sun was rising, which meant that they would have to start training soon, so he tried to follow his large friend’s example and eat quickly.

When they did line up, Maiz stood carefully at attention, eyes forward, and did his best not to attract any notice. The training officer began calling names, and responses of “Sir!” rang out from the neat ranks of Novices on the field. Maiz had initially been impressed at how well everyone was organized, but then he’d seen the officer’s reaction to one of the newer-looking Novices fidgeting when his name was called. There was a reason that two Clerics were standing next to the officer, ready with their healing spells.

“Maiz!”

“Sir!” Maiz thought his voice sounded thin in the open space of the field, but he did his best to project, and thankfully the officer simply moved on.

Unfortunately, one of the other Novices was not so lucky.

“Samak!”

The only response was a mumble, barely audible even from Maiz’s position within the ranks. He winced internally, mentally preparing for what was to come.

“Speak up, you spineless pile of roc droppings! Are you training to fight or to get killed by the first monster that looks at you? ” The man strode forward, and the ranks of Novices hurriedly parted to make way. Maiz stole a look, and saw a burly looking young man with his eyes on the ground by the training officer’s feet. Even as Maiz watched, the officer raised the hand and slapped the Novice across the face with such casual power that the young man was sent flying into the legs of the people next to him. They simply adjusted their balance however, not trying to help him or even shifting their gaze from the space in front of them. Maiz saw a hint of red by the Novice’s mouth before the Clerics’ light suffused the young man and he was instantly awake.

The training officer hauled the young man, Samak, back up to his feet and began to berate him again. Maiz’s fists clenched, but he didn’t move. And I was angry at Hakim? The people here viewed attacks on the Novices as simply a part of their training. Hells, the young man would probably gain a point in Constitution from this experience, so maybe they were right. But where was the line between training and cruelty? If you thought it was cruelty, then you should have acted, instead of complaining and doing nothing like a hypocrite. The thought was ridiculous, but part of Maiz couldn’t help but censure himself--how long had he raged against the injustices that had been done to him, only to stand by and do nothing when the same happened to someone else?

But Maiz didn’t move, and eventually the officer finished his ‘discipline’ and completed the roll call. On another field across from their own, Maiz could see the ranged combatants begin their physical training. As if trying not to be outdone, the melee training officer also instructed them to start a run around the field. Sighing, Maiz followed Hugan to the edge and started jogging.

***********

Maiz stumbled back slightly from the blow, but he caught himself before falling. Shield Stance certainly made the Constitution exercise much less painful, but Maiz simply didn’t have the stamina to keep it up over the entire exercise. He’d taken a real hit just then, but it hurt much less than it probably would have even a week ago. Even as Maiz regained his balance, he noticed a difference. He’d gained another point in Dexterity after an exercise involving a beam set up over a ditch, where he’d finally manage to cross without slipping and being sent back to the beginning. Apparently, the training was effective, however much Maiz hated the constant physical hardship he’d experienced in the past two mornings.

As Maiz took his place in line across from a tall, wiry young woman with hard eyes and a strong chin. She was surprisingly strong, and Maiz thought he would have needed a healer if not for his Shield Stance limiting the damage. When he he had punched her, she hadn't shown any reaction at all. In fact, Maiz thought that his wrist had been hurt more than her stomach. That was clearly not the case when the roles were reversed.  But before she could draw her fist back for another punch, the training officer called a halt.

“All right, stop! Grab a partner and get ready!”

Maiz just stood for a moment, recovering a bit more of his Stamina as the Novices around him began scrambling to find partners. He looked around but didn’t see anyone else standing alone like he did. He began walking around, hoping to find someone who was not too threatening to fight. After a minute or so, he did spot one. And he felt the blood drain out of his face.

“So, guess we’re gonna go again.”

Maiz opened his mouth, but a hand was on his shoulder and pulling him to the weapon racks before he could speak. Hells.

Maiz did manage to look around at his opponent before she shoved him at the racks. He wished he hadn’t. Lila’s pretty face was once again twisted in a scowl, but her gray eyes had a hint of steel them that hadn’t been there the first time he’d met her. Does that mean she’s angry now? Upon considering how she’d acted before their first fight, he amended the question. Angrier?

Lila had pushed Maiz to the front of the line, but though he thought he could hear a few grumbles, nobody complained. Why is that? He had no time to consider the question, as Lila was staring at him, arms crossed over her chest as she waited for him to choose a weapon. Moving as quickly as he dared, he grabbed a staff from the assorted weapons, similar to the one he’d used the day before. His fights hadn’t actually given him a chance to use the weapon, but between those expriences and practicing in the training field, he felt more affinity for it than any of the others offered. Besides, he had been right that it was very well suited to his Flaming Strike.

After Maiz took the staff, he looked back at Lila, only to see her striding towards him. What now? But she shouldered past him, and took another, smaller, staff from the rack. Oh. Maiz remembered that she had picked up his own staff during their last fight. She’d even used it well, doing something which--in retrospect--seemed like a skill. But if she was specialized in the staff, why would she have been fighting without a weapon the last time? Maiz remembered her title was Warrior-Monk--he’d learned that when he gained her skill Fast Feet. But he still didn’t actually know what the title meant. He supposed he would have another chance to find out.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

They found an empty space, and Lila faced Maiz with a surprisingly calm expression on her face. Her features had smoothed out from their previous agitation, and the other Novice appeared to be completely detached from the situation. Maiz, on the other hand, was having trouble getting over his anxiety. Granted, it hadn’t hurt too much the last time he’d fought Lila, but she looked a bit too comfortable holding that staff.

“Start!”

Lila wasn’t using Fast Feet. At least, her feet weren't moving the way they had last time. He'd realized, after a bit of surreptitious testing, that he could quite easily suppress that pattern. Moreover, once he started doing something other than standing still, he felt no compulsion to move his feet at all. That meant it was perfectly safe for him to engage the skill, even in front of Lila, and he did so only hoping it would be enough to save him.

It was a rather small hope.

The moment that the match started, Lila began spinning the staff so quickly that it looked like two solid circles to either side. In fact, Maiz could swear that the staff’s image was blurring somehow. Recalling what happened the last time she’d done that, Maiz knew that she would likely strike him without letting him see it early enough to dodge. Well then, only one thing to do. Maiz stepped forward just as Lila did the same, and awkwardly jabbed the end of his staff towards her torso.

Maiz had expected his attack to be blocked, and indeed his staff was knocked to the side with such force he almost dropped it. However, the blurred image of Lila’s weapon resolved itself into a single length of wood again, and immediately Maiz began focusing intently on it, hoping to engage his Fast Feet. Sure enough, after a swift circle around her head the staff came directly for Maiz’s side. He was still slightly off balance from his deflected strike, and there was no way he would have been able to doge the blow even if he hadn’t been disoriented. But as the staff came for him, his feet shifted, suddenly slipping out from beneath him. Surprised, he hit the ground and felt a flash of pain as his own staff jabbed into his torso. Luckily, the death grip he’d had on his staff kept it from being knocked out of his hands, and his body had tensed before landing so he wasn’t winded.

Maiz could feel the wind accompanying Lila’s strike whip across his back, but it took a moment for him to comprehend what had happened. The skill had forced him to fall because it was the only effective way to dodge. Hells. On pure instinct, Maiz barrel rolled away from where Lila had been, getting a taste of the field’s sands in the process. A second later he heard the dull thunk of a staff striking the sandy ground, and he mentally congratulated himself on his quick reaction. Maiz stopped his roll, and prepared to stand. As he planted one end of his staff in the ground, he saw Lila moving forward, eyes impassive. In a flash, Maiz recalled the last time he’d fought the girl. She had clearly been enraged by his presumed insult in copying her skill. Now, she was cold, emotionless as she moved to attack again. Why the difference?

He didn’t have any more time to wonder, however, as she raised the staff again, clearly intending to strike at Maiz’s head. Maiz, on one knee, tried to use Fast Feet, but he knew instantly that it wouldn’t work. Something simply felt wrong. In desperation he raised his own staff to block, and thought he would succeed. Yet the instant before Lila’s staff met his, her arms flickered with inhuman speed, and the opposite end of the weapon whipped around, catching Maiz squarely under the chin. Owww.

Maiz was thrown back, staff finally slipping from his grasp as he sprawled on the ground once again. But despite being a solid blow and quite painful, Lila’s attack hadn’t been strong enough to knock Maiz out. Strange. It had actually hurt less than one of Haddad’s punches, or even Jax’s blow from yesterday. Maiz’s musings were cut short by the dull sound of footsteps on the hard-packed sand. Oh, right. He performed his new special move, the roll-away-from-danger, and tried to stand more quickly.

He made it to his feet, and almost fell again as the world spun. Is that from the blow or the roll? He decided to save the question for later, and focused on the girl in front of him. Lila was now standing, still expressionless, with her hands empty and raised in front of her face. Behind her Maiz could see two lengths of wood lying on the ground. What? Why had she dropped her staff? There was no way he could have defended himself against her unarmed, though he might not have a much better chance like this. Focus. A quick glance backwards showed that another pair were fighting very close by. There wouldn’t be much space for retreating.

Ah well, I suppose. Offering a quick prayer to Viselys, Maiz stepped forward once again. Perhaps his new position would incline the god to help him with a lucky blow. He hadn’t ever really fought bare-handed before, so he did his best using knowledge gained from watching the occasional brawl on a street corner. He threw a wide right hook at the pretty girl.

The pretty girl slipped easily past the blow, and almost casually jabbed two fingers at his arm. Frantically, Maiz engaged Fast Feet again as she closed with him, though his breathing was already much heavier than normal. He wouldn’t have the Stamina for dodging more than a single blow. The strike came in the form of another two-fingered jab, this one aimed at Maiz’s neck. His knees bent, and he slipped underneath the attack, feeling a wave of tiredness wash over him. This is my chance. Maiz popped up, intending to throw another punch at Lila’s chin. But his arm didn’t respond to the command. What the hells?

Lila’s face was very close to Maiz’s. For a bare instant, he felt a twinge of embarrassment. It reminded him of when he’d woken to Riala examining his head in the Strength trial. Except this time there was no inhuman green glow. Only an--almost--equally strange cold grey.

Then she snapped her head head forward, and Maiz dropped to the ground, unconscious before he landed.

**************

Flaming Strike.

The mana rushed down, through the staff in Maiz’s hands. He shivered, even as the glow lit his face and ribbons of flame surrounded his weapon. Stepping forward, he struck at the wooden post, and felt the pattern of mana break, a rush of energy escaping as a flash of fire exploded at the point of impact.

Without pause, he cast the spell again, this time while raining down more blows onto the post. To his pleasure, the mana flowed unimpeded, not even slowing despite the constant movement of Maiz’s staff. In a few seconds, his staff lit up once again before almost immediately exploding against the post. He continued, attacking without pause and casting Flaming Strike twice more. The staff was heavy, and he was exhausted from the exertions of the day, but he continued. Since gaining his title, he’d found that his energy returned to him more easily than before, and he could bounce back quickly from near-total exhaustion. Moreover, he’d realized that he’d gained another point each in Strength and Constitution during the training that morning, in addition to the point in Dexterity. Not bad for two days’ work, though he anticipated the growth slowing soon.

Flaming Strike. This time, when he cast the spell the chill of his mana seemed to pull at him, his head began to ache and the rest of his body felt… empty, somehow. This hadn’t happened to him before, but he continued his attack.

As soon as the flash of fire faded, Maiz mentally ‘felt’ at his pool of mana. He could now sense easily enough that it was almost completely empty, only dregs remaining. He thought that those excercises were helping, but he still had to actively work to sense his mana. From what Ziya had told him, part of the Novice magic training, especially the mana manipulation exercises, was designed to make the Novices more comfortable accessing their mana. By the Apprentice rank and higher, almost all mages had a constant feel for their mana pool.

Maiz wondered what would happen if he cast Flaming Strike right then, when his mana pool was near total depletion. Yet even as he had the thought, a voice sounded in his ear.

“I would not recommend casting your spell again at the moment.”

Maiz quashed the impulse to jump and turn. His fists clenched slightly, but he took a deep breath, and--after deliberately taking a moment to wipe the sweat from his brow, he turned calmly.

“Sir?”

The wrinkled, impassive face of Instructor Hakim looked back at him from several meters away. Why does it always sound like he’s talking into my ear? He hadn’t said anything to Maiz in the training hall, and Maiz decided that was a good thing--after all, the man could have squashed him like a bug for his attack. However Maiz still harbored more than a little anger at Hakim for his ‘lesson’ the day before. And you stood by while the training officer basically did the same thing.

“You do not have enough mana to cast the spell, but it is a talent--if you try to cast it, your body will attempt to gather the mana from your surroundings indiscriminately, and you will experience severe pain. If you were to attempt this with a higher-ranked version of the spell, you may cause permanent damage or death.”

Maiz blinked, anger--and doubt--forgotten for a moment. “From my surroundings?” Then, just in time to not be rude, he added “sir.” A bit of stiffness may have come through, but he couldn’t help but think of his overseers as he said the word.

Hakim’s dark eyes looked at him. He thought he caught a flash of expression from the man’s face, but it disappeared too quickly for him to catch. “I do not often discuss the nature of mana with Novices.” He paused for so long that Maiz thought that was all he was going to say. However, he continued, “There are several prevalent theories on how exactly mana functions. Some believe that mana is a direct gift of the gods, and permeates the world as a result of their interference. Others posit that it is simply an invisible substance, much like the air around them. Still others think that non-living things somehow produce and emanate mana, and mages draw their magic from these objects. The fact remains that humans draw their mana from their surroundings.”

Maiz frowned. There seemed to be an issue with what the man was saying, but he didn’t think it was wise to interrupt the man.

“Speak your mind.” Hakim’s expression hadn’t changed visibly, but Maiz could feel the weight of the man’s gaze press more heavily on him.

“Um, if mages gather mana from their surroundings sir, why do we ever run out? Couldn’t I just pull all of the mana for my spells from around me instead of just using my, uh, pool?” Maiz knew that he barely had any idea of how magic worked, but based on what he’d seen and heard, the question made sense.

“That is what I was getting at,” Hakim replied emotionlessly, but Maiz had the strange feeling that he… approved. “The thing that no one even pretends to understand is how our bodies process mana to make it usable. We believe this is a biological process, and without it, mana is completely useless for magic. If you were to use your talent without enough mana, your body would attempt to process mana at a rate faster than it is capable of, and this can cause damage to the part of your body which deals with mana.”

Maiz’s eyebrows raised involuntarily, and he blurted without thinking, “Why wouldn’t you tell everyone that when they first come here?”

The old man looked at him, expressionless. Maiz was beginning to think he’d made a serious mistake when Hakim finally answered, “They are told by their Journeyman mentors. I simply waited until you were about to try it before telling you.”

Oh. I suppose that makes sense. Wait… “Sir, you can see my mana?”

“Yes.”

The ready answer, without a dramatically long pause, surprised Maiz, but he decided not look a gift horse in mouth. He found that his annoyance with the Instructor for the incident two days ago was quickly fading in the face of all of this new information the man was giving him. That wasn’t right, Maiz knew, and part of him wanted to show the man that his actions had not been justified.

But he couldn’t lie to himself. Hakim was answering his questions. He was offering Maiz power.

“Will you teach me?”

The man looked at Maiz for another long moment.

“I suppose.”