“Emrys of the White Sands?” an attendant that smelled of lilacs and sweat asked, and I shot my head up from where I had been nodding off on the bench.
“Yes ma’am?” I asked.
“The written portion of your exam was considered adequate,” she said, and I let out a breath of relief.
“The Erudites will see you now,” she said, then reached out and put her hand on my shoulder to steady me. “Good luck.”
I nodded, then she led me down, and through one of the doors. I stepped in, and felt like I was in a king’s court, with seventeen monarchs surrounding me. Each one sat on a throne, with each throne decorated differently – spires of blue crystal, whirling and shifting tides of water, a throne of skulls, and more than a dozen other strange thrones. Atop each throne was a regal figure, from a variety of mortal races: men and elves, beastfolk and plantfolk, dwarves and gnomes, and more besides.
These were the seventeen most powerful mortal spellcasters in the world, and they had come to judge me.
In fairness, I doubted they were all actually here. These were most likely simulacra or illusions, given that I knew that each of Cendel’s eight holds had a testing facility like this, and there were a few in other countries as well.
Well, that, and the fact that not a single one of them smelled like anything at all. The sight was still impressive, though.
The thrones and people circled the chamber in a ring, and left me staring at an old, dark skinned human woman, sitting directly ahead in a simple chair of wood and wicker. The placard before her throne was marked with the number one.
I stepped forwards and bowed to each of the thrones in turn, leaving the old woman for last, then spoke.
“My name is Emrys of White Sands, and I am here to apply to one of your universities.”
“Tell me the history of the world?” the old human woman asked, and I paused.
That… was not what I had been expecting. I had fully expected that she’d ask for a practical demonstration of magic. I’d written an essay about this, why couldn’t she just read that?
I tamped down on the frustration and began to speak.
“It is said that while the history of Etherius stretches into the infinite, our world's story can be told in seven ages,” I said, slowly pacing around the chamber as the seventeen stared down at me. I tried not to sweat.
“In the Age of Stone, our world was a part of the endless planes of Etherius, rich with magic, for all of time and no time at all. In those days, the titans roamed the world, until through the endless changing that is in the nature of Magyk, the titans died, and our world fell away for a time.”
I paused for a moment, before I continued.
“In the Age of Fire, Etherius was forgotten, and the world was seen as nothing but the physical. This age lasted many years, and many weapons lit the sky itself on fire, giving the age its name. This burning ushered in the next age… In the age of the dark, life was rare, the sun had grown cold, and the might of the physical was lost. The screaming birds of metal fell from the air as the rules that held them aloft were changed. The endless sky fire was snuffed out, no longer a part of the natural order, and it is said that even the earth's gravity began to fail to function, and nearly all things died.”
I paused for a breath, but held up my hand to hide it, as if to tell them the story wasn’t over.
“Then, the Age of the Wilds began when the endless realms of Etherius, and thus Magyk, touched the world, connected once more, but not united. The laws of the world returned, some say the same, while others say different, though not even the most elder of dragons can tell such a thing for certain. In these days, Magyk shared her power without constraints, and it is said all were as divines in those days. With the right force of will, one could summon Etherius to themselves and rewrite the world. But the people of this world are ever greedy…”
I was getting into the rhythm of it now, allowing my voice to rise and fall.
“The Age of Pools began when Magyk saw the greed and hate of people, and sought to fix it. She shattered herself, and sparks spread across this world and beyond, and magic changed. People could now form a pool of ether from their soul's connection to Etherius, and had to grow this pool and its power to match the task. Magyk thought that she had solved the problem of handing out too much power, too freely. But this only allowed some to flourish as tyrants by consuming the pools of others, and so Magyk sought a new solution.”
I turned and looked at each of the Erudites.
“The Age of Sunder began when Magyk saw the abuses that such power wrought, and she split herself in half, then allowed half to restore while half withered, and the pools of ether within all mortals did the same. This act defined that each pool of ether had power it was suited to, and all power it was not, and made it so pools could no longer be passed along or consumed. For a time she was happy with such an arrangement, but in time, she realized that people were not. What was one to do when their magic was only of use for making cheese, and they wished to pursue carpentry?”
I paused for a dramatic moment.
“The Age of Stars began when Magyk split herself into the three million and one stars, falling to earth in a great rain. Each of these falling stars was a spell, one created by Magyk for the people, organized into none and nine schools and none and nine difficulties. Each person's innate ether shaping was changed, the start of what a person was, rather than a limit on what they could be. And so all power, from any source, and of any nature was much changed. Structured to follow rules, rules not unlike the new spells. And so in the age of stars we stay. For now…”
I glanced around as I finished, and one of them, a powerfully built orcish woman covered in tattoos, who’s placard read the number nine, nodded.
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“You would do well as a minstrel,” she told me. “It suits you. Are you satisfied, number one?”
I bowed my head in thanks, but let the old women speak.
“I am,” the old woman marked as the first and strongest said. “He left out some subtle nuances, such as the divines, the innately magical beasts, the interactions between the infinite planes of Etherius and the mortal world, and more… but it was not wholly terrible.”
“Don’t listen to her,” number seven, a slender mermaid said, shaking her head. “She is impossible to please.”
I just paused and sat there, plastering a stupid smile on my face, because I didn’t want to agree and offend number one, but I didn’t want to disagree and offend number seven. Even the power that was my erstwhile mother would struggle to kill one of these mages, after all.
“Stop tormenting the boy,” number eleven said, an elven man in a stylish gray coat. “Do you know your affinity, child?”
“No sir,” I said, struck with a mix of emotions. I disliked being treated like a child, my babyface a bit of a sore spot, but I appreciated that the elf was speaking up for me. “I don’t have the money for a grimoire summoning spell.”
I wasn’t entirely clear on the whole difference between spell guides, grimoires, affinity magic, and spellcasting, but I was sure I’d learn it eventually.
“Of course,” he agreed. “Well, you will learn it if you gain admittance to one of our schools.”
“Shall we begin the practicum?” the mermaid asked, and the old woman agreed, but number two, a vulpine woman sitting on a golden throne shook her head.
“Let us go through the admittance questions, so we do not waste our time,” she said, and there was a general murmur of agreement. She waved her hand, and a binding circle of silver light fell around me, seeping into my mind, too vast and powerful to resist.”
“A truth spell,” she said, “I swear on my life it brings no harm. Please confirm that you are truly below the age of twenty winters.”
“I am,” I said, glad that my mind had developed so quickly.
Magyk favored the young and the bold, and it was generally considered that once a person had passed their twenty-fifth winter, the rate at which they could grow and improve their casting fell to a tenth of what it had been.
“Are you truly from the White Sands region?”
“I ran away from home as a child,” I said. “I was not born in White Sands, but it was where I grew up, and is more of a home to me than the island on which I was born.”
“Would you be a threat to a student at any of our academies?”
“I don’t intend to bring harm, but if my mother or one of my older siblings was to try and forcibly retrieve me, they might not worry about casualties.”
I didn’t want to say it, but under the power of the spell, I had no other option.
“Noted,” a giant of a man on the sixteenth throne said.
The questions continued for some time after that, and then we finally moved onto the practicum. That gave me a bit of relief. I had faith in my ability to cast spells, at least.
“Please demonstrate that you have condensed a pool of ether within yourself,” number four said, a human man sitting on a throne of fire and brass work.
“Has anyone ever gotten this far without having formed an ether pool?” I asked, turning my palms upwards and allowing streams of ether to flow out of my hand, like cobalt blue smoke, then curled it to pull it back into myself. I didn’t want to waste ether, after all.
“You would be surprised,” number one said. “We once had someone who used runes, song, and borrowed artifice who got very creative. Demonstrate for us some clayshaping.”
I froze up for a moment, unsure what she meant. I didn’t have any spells that used clay.
“Our friend here is overly fond of using outdated nomenclature,” the elven man said. “She means a cantrip, an unbounded spell, or a null-spell. I believe all of those terms are used in this nation and its holds.”
I let out a sigh of relief and nodded, then reached within myself to the pool of ether within me. I spun it into the shape of the simplest spell I knew, the first one I had ever learned, and spoke a single word of power.
A weirlight flitted from my fingers, then began to orbit around my head, glowing the same cobalt blue as my ether.
“Stop it,” the mermaid said, and I did.
“Change its color. Alright, now make it brighter. Dimmer.”
“What other cantrips do you know?” asked number three as I finished. Three was a very bland looking human man in his mid-forties. He was sitting on the throne shaped from spires of blue crystal.
In response, I flexed the ether within my spirit and spoke four words of power in rapid succession. A small bloom of flame appeared in the air, a current of ether lifted a few locks of my hair, mending magic repaired where a thread had begun to fray on my shirt, and a flow of ether that pointed north like a compass all appeared in rapid succession.
“Five that are mediocre in quality,” the old woman said. “You should have mastered your clayshaping more, but it is not the end of the world.”
I bowed my agreement to her, even though internally I was a little snarkier. I’d learned my magic from wanderers, half-charlatans, and by scouring every single library I came across for spell guides. I hadn’t had the chance to just casually learn more.
“Let’s see a first circle spell, then. No need to go over every single one, just pick the one you find the most impressive,” the elven man said.
I took a moment to run through the spells I knew. Basic arcane armor, shielding and missiles were definitely out.
Spook animals was an alright choice, as was ethersight or a circle of alarm. All three of the spells had been invaluable in traveling, and ethersight was valuable for reading spell guides. They had to approve of that.
Then again, they had said they wanted the most impressive. If that meant visually impressive, then fresh face – which created a new, illusory face over my own – would probably be the most impressive. If they meant impressive in terms of complex aetheric shaping…
I drew several small berries from a pouch at my side and began to spin a spell through my ether pool, then murmured several sentences of power, and blew on the berries. Green light shone over the berries for a moment, and they transformed into lifeberries, which could serve as food and water, and could help the body heal faster. It was the most complicated first circle spell I knew of, and I hoped that it would be impressive to these powerful seventh circle or higher mages.
“Very well,” the bland man on blue crystal said. “And second tier? Same as the first, just show us your best.”
I was relieved I’d chosen right, and turned my mind to my second circle spells. This was easier, since I’d only managed to find three: glimmersands, bloodmark, and summon gadhar.
Glimmersands was too simple, and showing off a blood magic spell felt iffy – lots of people thought that was inherently evil, and it was ritual magic anyways – so I was left with only one.
I built the spell within my ether pool, and it stretched to twice the size of a first circle spell, then a moment later, it was completed. I spoke the words of power, and a gadhar appeared in the air, called from Etherius.
The gadhar resembled a sheep dog, with large, angelus-like wings, and it strutted around the room for a moment. I reached into my pouches and drew out some jerky, then tossed it to the celestine dog, before letting it fade away.
“And now for third circle…” the old woman said.