MITCHELL – AGE 12 – MARAGON’S TOWER, NEAR GARET, KLYDOR
21ST ILLIANSHAE, EARLY SUMMER, 838 PBM
The room was set, candles encircling them. Mitchell, knelt on his cherished silver rug, with Maragon mirroring his stance on a rug opposite him.
“Today we will test your knowledge. And if you pass, then we will move to the next phase of your training,” began Maragon. His beard had the faintest tinges of grey at either side of his mouth, but otherwise he still looked the same as Mitchell’s earliest memories of him. And from training with Maragon with the sword and other weapons, he had lost none of his vigour.
“Yes, Master,” replied Mitchell, being ever careful to speak respectfully and to not use contractions in his speech, lest he be harshly rebuked.
“What are the two sources of magick?” asked Maragon.
Ok, the test is on the theories of magick. And we are starting with easy stuff.
“Arcane and Divine,” Mitchell replied, “Arcane is for those who channel the magick themselves, using the energies within themselves and the items around them to craft spells. Divine is for those who pray to a divine being, and he provides the magickal energy to fuel their spells.”
“Correct. Although the divine usually refer to their spells as prayers,” instructed Maragon. “But they are for most purposes, the same.”
“Name at least four types of Arcane casters?” asked Maragon.
Mitchell had always had a very strong memory, so his ability to recall and recite lore back was formidable. This question did not trouble him.
“Mages,” replied Mitchell, “the most common type of arcane caster, and the ones who formed the Ashar colleges of magick. A mage studies how magick works, and uses this knowledge to tap into the magickal energies within him and the energies in the items around him to channel energy from one or more of the spheres of magick. He then weaves this energy into a spell. Being a mage is the most difficult path, but offers the most diverse range of spells.”
And this is what you and I are, Master.
Maragon nodded that Mitchell was correct, and to continue.
“Sorcerers,” continued Mitchell, “those with innate magick powers within their bloodline or ancestry. The powers they may manifest are spells, but much easier for them to cast, harder for us to dispel, and are linked to whatever magickal essence they have within their blood. If the sorcerer is infused with draconic essence, then his powers will likely reflect his dragon ancestry, and if he is infused with elemental essence, then his powers will reflect whichever element he is infused with. Sorcerers can attempt to capture the essence from other Sorcerors or magical beasts when they die, but this is a risky process.”
“Sorcerers can be very dangerous. If they start harvesting the essence from other creatures then they will become very powerful, but usually very unstable as well. If you encounter such a thing, tread carefully, and report them to the Council of Defence,” advised Maragon. He motioned for Mitchell to continue, using his fingers to show that two of the four answers had been ticked off.
“Psions,” intoned Mitchell, “focusing on an exceptional level of personal attunement and enlightenment, a Psion has powers similar to a sorcerer, but can cast them without any obvious verbal or physical gesture elements, casting them purely from his mind and the energies within himself. The powers of Psions are generally focused on the spheres of ‘Mental’ and ‘Body’ and they cannot manipulate the elements.”
“Correct. Psions also cannot harvest the essence of other creatures like a Sorcerer. Psions are creatures of incredible willpower and self-control. They are to be respected greatly whether they are ally or foe,” instructed Maragon.
“Wild-Mages,” answered Mitchell, “these are individuals who have a natural talent for magick, but have not spent the years it takes to properly master the art of casting magick spells. They are dangerous as their magick will often go awry, potentially causing unintended harm or destruction.”
“Not to be confused with wildlings, who are wild sorcerers who have not properly learned to control their powers. Both groups are dangerous, and if they insist on continuing to use their abilities without learning control, they can create a very difficult decision. Do they have a right to continue, given the risk they pose to others? The answer is always ‘No, they do not’. Personal freedoms do not allow you to put the innocent around you at great risk. I have had to destroy several wildlings in my lifetime. I wished in several instances that the outcome not be that, but they each gave me no choice.”
'I can see the emotion and conflict within him as he explains this. I also note he uses the word destroy instead of kill, either because that makes it easier to live with, or perhaps he thinks they were no longer truly human anymore when he killed them.'
'I have answered four, but there are many more. So why stop there.'
“Warlock,” Mitchell continued, “A mage who has made a pact with a supernatural entity, likely a demon, to teach him magick he otherwise would not know. Warlocks frequently learn the forbidden spheres, and usually end up corrupted by their demonic mentor. It is a short-cut to power for those not willing to get there the hard way.”
'I remember Maragon becoming quite worked up when explaining Warlocks. I think perhaps he despises Warlocks more than any other caster.'
“Pitiful wretches who seek to make up for a lack of ability and dedication by cheating their way to power,” said Maragon sadly. “That is not how the world should work, and it does not work for warlocks either. But the amount of damage they cause when they inevitably lose control of their sanity can be immense. When you find a warlock, think long and hard about just ending the threat to Driax then and there.”
“Bard, a talented individ…” began Mitchell.
“A gifted artist who decides to become borderline competent in a great many things instead of mastering anything, including, unfortunately, magick,” interrupted Maragon, some emotion still in his voice. “That is enough for today on the lore of magick.”
“But I haven’t yet talked about Defilers, Blood Mages or High Magick,” complained Mitchell. “Defilers draw magickal energy from the natural world to cast, but in a harmful way which kills the plants and life around them. Blood Mages are actually sorcerers who can use their own blood and health to power spells after they would normally have no reserves to cast. And High Magick comes only from the old races like elves. It is more powerful than normal magick, but it is more tiring to cast so high mages tend to cast only when absolutely necessary,” rushed Mitchell, ticking off the remaining types on his fingers as he spoke.
“Ok. Very well done. Your ability with the lore is exemplary. You certainly passed the test,” commended Maragon. “As a reward we will commence on the next phase of your training. Today, you are going to try and cast your first full spell.”
Mitchell beamed. He loved progressing to new challenges. He ran his fingers across his favourite metallic, silver rug, using it as a technique to calm himself and ‘steel himself’.
“As usual, you will need to stay calm and maintain your focus. This spell is more difficult than the simple cantrips we have been casting, but I think you are ready,” encouraged Maragon. Maragon set down a candle, its wick burning strongly and casting a pale light. Mitchell was nervous.
'Three years of mastering all the basic techniques from all 18 of the allowed spheres of magick. Now it is time to take what I have learned and cast a real spell. Just make sure to not set the room on fire. Or Maragon.'
“I have picked a spell for today that I think should be a good building block from the skills you have already learned,” continued Maragon. “Do you think you are prepared?”
“I hope so. I have been studying really hard, and I believe I now have all the basic skills required to do this. I would likely have picked a universal spell as those are my favourite. But I think I know which spell you will ask me to cast first, and I think I am ready,” Mitchell replied. His boyish voice was reasonably confident and calm, but there was a tinge of nerves as well.
“And what spell do you think I have chosen for your test today?” Maragon asked.
“You like attacking spells and you usually teach me that first. I think you will ask me to do something like a ‘Fire Arc’,” Mitchell replied.
'A simple fire spell. Conjure a ball of flame, and once it is bound tightly, throw it at a target. Whatever it hits is burned, and likely set on fire. Maragon was a Cthrag Merlo War Wizard and I think he prefers spells which damage his enemies directly.'
Maragon nodded.
“Your reasoning is correct. I am training you for a very dangerous life. It is critical you can defend yourself. And fire spells capture the balance I am looking for in terms of an easy energy to channel, high damage potential, but some risk to the caster if you are lazy or sloppy in your channeling. Flame longs to burn something. It does not much care if that is the caster or the intended target. That risk can make some casters panic and make mistakes. On the battlefield there is nearly always risk, so this is a good test or simulation for what casting on the battlefield will be like.”
“The cantrips you have channelled the tightest spell-weave in were when casting spells in the fields of Protection, Lightning and Enchantment. Those you have been weakest in were Nature, Mental and Teleportation. I picked a sphere in the middle.”
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'To some extent that matches the spheres of magick I enjoy casting the most. I like Protection, Lightning, and Body Manipulation. I like Nature, Mental and Charm the least. I do not like influencing the minds of others or manipulating nature. Both seem wrong. I can only guess at what channelling one of the six forbidden spheres such as Blood or Necromancy must feel like.'
“Channelling is all about drawing magickal energies from within ourselves and the things around us, and then using that energy to shape our spells. You have sufficient skill and magickal reserves to cast this spell completely from within you, so no components will be necessary”
Mitchell focused on Maragon’s words. Remain calm. Use my own reserves. Do not use spell components. Got it.
“Feel within yourself for the energy to channel your spell. The energy within your self is in many ways the most precious. It is the easiest to use, but it is also a finite resource. Once it is gone you will be nothing more than a warrior with a sword and your mind,” Maragon counselled. Mitchell sent his focus internal, and to his inner core.
'I can feel it. The power within me that grows as my skill grows. It is almost like a tap of water now that I can turn on with ease. But as Maragon says, my bucket is small.'
“Begin channelling. You will know immediately by the feel if it is working as you intend. With a water spell, you will feel the chill though your entire body. With this spell you will feel the warmth of sitting near a small bonfire, or perhaps a mildly warm bath.”
'There it is, the warm glow. Let us make sure we draw enough. Channelling more energy mid-cast because you run out while forming my spell-weave is really hard.'
Drawing slightly more energy than he thought he would need, Mitchell began to form the spell-weave for his ‘Fire Arc’. He felt the warmth begin within his core immediately, and before long he could see the light and fiery energy starting to appear and swirl around his body. Encouraged that everything was going as intended, he focused on gathering the flaming tendrils of magick into a tightly bound orb that he would be able to throw.
“Good. Maintain your focus,” encouraged Maragon. “When you think you have an Orb that is ready to throw, I want you to aim for that small stool I have set up over there.” Maragon pointed at a small stool that had recently been damaged by an errant crossbow bolt from Mitchell’s first attempts with the weapon.
'Ahh yes. My old foe the stool. Wounded in our initial encounter, but you were resilient and survived. Today I hope to finish the job.'
Satisfied he had created enough fire magick, Mitchell began to pull all the loose threads into a ball. His hands weaved around, pulling the tendrils together and then compacting them into an ever tighter ball. When he thought he compacted the ball enough, he grabbed at the ball. He knew from playing with smaller orbs how to ‘hold’ the magick orb in his hand, but not actually let it touch his skin. The orb was still being controlled through his casting, but the physical action for this part of the spell was to ‘throw’ the orb at its target.
“Keep a slightly tighter fist when fusing the threads into an orb. Keep your 3rd finger curled as tightly as possible into your palm on your weaving hand when using elemental magick,” advised Maragon.
Mitchell adjusted his technique accordingly for the last few seconds of the spell weave. Mitchell then took hold of the orb. It did not feel as he expected. The orb was soft and felt like it was coming apart. Like a meatball that was not properly bound together. Hoping a swift release might preserve its integrity, Mitchell hurled it hastily.
As the energy ball left his hand, it began disintegrating, and with the momentum of his throw, the entire structure shattered, sending faint streaks of light and flame scattering. Quick to react, Maragon cast a water-imbued shield, extinguishing the erratic wisps.
Disappointment washed across Mitchell’s face, and he began to hang his head.
“That was actually quite good for a first attempt. But you did not seal the Orb. You should take some of the magick energy you have and wrap the Orb to seal it. Just enough to create a crust that will hold it together,” instructed Maragon, his voice calm and without any trace of emotion.”
He quickly cast a flaming Orb and reminded Mitchell of the steps on how to do exactly that. Mitchell was prone to harsh self-judgement of his failures, but the re-assuring tone in his mentor’s voice brought him back into the moment.
“Try Again,” Maragon instructed.
“Yes, Master.”
Mitchell began again. He drew spell energy from within. He took almost all that was left in his ‘bucket’.
'Get this one right. You do not have enough energy for a 3rd attempt. Stay calm. Just focus on each part in sequence. Gather, Weave, Throw.'
Once he gathered enough energy, Mitchell again weaved the fiery energy into an Orb. This time, once the Orb was big enough, he carefully sealed it. As he prepared to launch it, he felt the orb's reinforced structure.
Taking aim, he launched it at the stool. Throwing an Orb was not quite like throwing a ball or rock. Throwing those things relied entirely on your aim and the throw itself to propel your object at the target. With a magickal orb the throw still mattered, but you could alter the trajectory of the Orb with your magick and to some extent guide the Orb towards its target. There were limitations on how much Mitchell could curve the Orb, but it was enough that it was a simple thing to hit a stationary object such as the stool.
The Orb struck one of the stool’s legs. The impact of the orb only nudged the stool very slightly. But this spell was not used for its concussive impact. An Earth spell or even a Air spell would have been used if that was the goal. The purpose of this spell was to burn.
And that it did.
The orb burst and the stool was spattered with the flaming magick, and everywhere the magick hit the stool burst into flames. There was no explosion, such as there was when Maragon cast the more powerful versions of this spell. But the flames quickly immolated the stool and it began to burn rapidly.
'You were a valiant foe stool. But I have vanquished you on the 3rd attempt.'
Maragon waited until the flames had destroyed the chair before continuing.
“Very good. I believe you earned yourself a reward as today you took an important step in your training. What would you like?”
A reward? That does not happen very often. What do I want? Choose carefully, and do not waste this. A day off? Some more of that chocolate Samtha brought last year?
Thinking of Samtha reminded Mitchell of how much he enjoyed when she came and played her music.
“A visit from Samtha, or perhaps we could go see a Bard in town? I want to hear some more music and perhaps some stories.”
'I love the stories of great heroes. Good conquering evil. The adulation for the heroes when they save the day. I also just like seeing all the people together and having fun. I wish we went to the tavern in Garet more often.'
“An odd request. What do you want to see a Bard for?” Maragon asked. There was a tone of disgust in his voice that really surprised Mitchell.
'Maragon usually only uses such tone for people who are lazy, cowards or traitors, but this is the second time he has reacted negatively to the mention of Bards.'
“I like the stories about history and great heroes,” Mitchell replied honestly.
“There is much to be learned from history and the tales of the great heroes. I have taught you many of the tales. None more important than the Champions of Micronia, who I have taught you much about, and will yet teach you more. But the problem with Bards is they blend the truth with story. They care more for the entertainment of the tale than its factual accuracy. And for some like us, that difference can mean death.”
“How can a story kill someone, Master,” Mitchell asked naively. Mitchell saw a pained expression wash over Maragon’s face.
“I have witnessed young would-be heroes killed because they tried to emulate a hero from one of these Bard’s tales. I have seen a man overwhelmed and pulled down by a small group of re-animated skeletons. He was good enough and strong enough to defeat these lowest form of Undead servants. But he charged in with his sword and tried to hack them to pieces because he had heard the tale of Mazton the Brave,” Maragon replied.
“A sword causes a body to bleed as they cut and pierce its flesh and organs. A skeleton is held together by Necromantic magick. It has neither flesh nor organs. Trying to shatter bones with only a sword is extremely difficult. A simple warhammer or mace should always be your weapon of choice if you must deal with skeletons up close. The real Mazton was not really that brave, but he was smart enough to arm himself with a mace on that day.”
“Why does he have a sword in the story?” asked Mitchell.
“Because his family had long wielded the legendary blade, ‘Letum Ferrum’. And the bard wanted that silvery blade to shine in his story, with light glinting off it as Mazton slayed his skeleton horde. And the entertainment of the story mattered more than the facts.”
“I have watched a young girl, having just spent 12 years studying magick, get herself killed fighting a Forester’s Bane within a few months of completing her apprenticeship,” Maragon continued.
'A Forester’s Bane is a carnivorous shrub. Long sharp stalks which entangle a victim and then cut at them until they bleed to death. Best dealt with using flame or from a distance.'
Mitchell did not realise just how many of the monsters of the world Maragon had already drummed into him, along with the best methods to defeat them. But now as he mentioned them, his subconscious immediately offered him the correct method for destroying them.
“Mareen did not follow her training, and attempted to rescue those she was with by trying to charm the plant to drop her companions. The Bane is immune to such magick as it has no real mind. It is a plant. Then when it had grappled her with a stalk, she wasted her last spell to try and poison the Bane,” Maragon continued.
“And Banes are immune to poison.” Mitchell finished.
“Yes. As are nearly all plant type creatures. But Maureen had heard the tale of Grubinger, the ArchDruid. When confronted by an unstoppable outbreak of killer plants within the King’s Grove he defeats it by supposedly charming it into eating some food he has made as a gift for it, and this food then poisons it and it dies.”
“I know this story. He beats the creature in a battle of nature-based riddles to convince it to take the food,” replied Mitchell.
“Yes. A very funny and entertaining tale. But factually inaccurate. The Druid did indeed speak to the plant, but not in such a way as you could exchange words and riddles with it. Most plants are incapable of such communication. They can share information as they are somewhat aware of their surroundings. And it is likely Grubinger communed with the plant using one of his Nature spells. I suspect he derived the plant was being corrupted by some dark magick source, which he then destroyed. Cut off from its corrupting source, the plant either died or returned to normal. It certainly was not defeated by poison.”
“But your request was for a Bard or someone to tell you tales. It is your requested reward so it shall be granted.”
Maragon looked around the room. His eyes came to rest on the taxidermized statue of an Owl. It was a magickal device with big eyes through which Maragon could monitor this room, using it to watch over experiments without needing to be physically present. It was useful when experiments were potentially dangerous or just long. It also allowed him to monitor them while he was away from the Tower.
“I shall give to you the “Story Owl”.” Maragon proceeded to pick the owl up off its shelf and place it on the ground near Mitchell.
“Story Owl?” Mitchell asked incredulously. “I have seen this Owl for years, and I have never heard it tell stories.”
“And at present it cannot. But I will enchant it further. I will enchant it with a great many stories to regale you with whenever you wish.”
As Maragon thought this through he began to see other uses for the Owl.
“We will put it in your room, and then even when I am away I will be able to watch over you. It will also be able to instruct you on what training you should be doing next, even while I am away from the Tower.”
'So the Owl can tell me stories. But it will also watch me and tell me what to do?'
“Is it Story Owl? Or is it Bossy Owl?” asked Mitchell.
“I suspect it may be both, my fine young apprentice,” laughed Maragon. “But it is a powerful reward and you have earned it.”