MITCHELL – AGE 15 – MARAGON’S TOWER, NEAR GARET, KLYDOR

2ND ILLIANSHAE, EARLY SUMMER, 841 PBM

Mitchell was tired. Yesterday had been Sun-Day, the first day of Summer, marking the end of Spring and the biggest celebration of the year in most parts of Driax. Although Maragon typically refrained from festive observances, they been invited to the widow, Mrs Lucrellin’s, house to help her celebrate the occasion with what little remained of her family in Garet.

This meant Mitchell had been in town, and not at the tower, which in turn meant he had caught up with Hawkin, Davon and Alicia that evening. Maragon had even encouraged him to leave the post-celebration clean-up at Mrs Lucrellin's, which was unusually considerate. Hawkin had smuggled some kind of alcoholic spirit, which they had sipped at, and then Mitchell had snuck back into the small bed he had been provided at Mrs Lucrellin’s in the very early hours of the morning.

Now, he was paying the price. Not only did Maragon intend for his usual studies to continue this very day, but Mitchell was to have a big test and that Brother Turin would be arriving to assist. Maragon had let Mitchell get about an hour’s sleep in the cart on the way back to the tower, which was a rare concession.

In the training area of the tower, the trio knelt on meditation mats. Mitchell fought to suppress any yawns, Maragon seeming surprisingly cheerful, and the old priest Brother Turin offered his wisdom to the young Mitchell about what it meant to be a good young man, the best weapon versus evil, and the difference between those two things.

“Today would be a very significant day were you undertaking your training with the Colleges of the Ashar, as I did. The results from today’s test would control which paths you were allowed to go down with your training. It would forever fork the paths your magickal destiny travelled,” explained Maragon ominously.

“Casting spells at target dummies is easy compared to trying to cast while something is trying to kill you,” stated Maragon. “Today, you are going to undergo a significant test designed to test all you have learned on casting spells to defend yourself against magick attack.”

Mitchell was excited for this test. He had been anticipating it for months. He knew amongst the Ashar this was a very important moment in the training for any young wizard.

‘One of the reasons I train so broadly across so many different spheres of magick is so that I will have the exact defensive spell for any scenario. If Maragon throws fire I can counter with fire, water or protection-based shields, and each has its advantages and disadvantages. I must watch what is being cast and choose the right defensive spell. And I must stay awake.’

Mitchell yawned for what seemed like the hundredth time, covering his yawn with his hand.

“I want you to start by casting your ‘Sense Casting’ enchantment,” instructed Maragon. “Once you finish casting it, I want to you to keep the enchantment running by maintaining part of your concentration on it.”

Enchantments were still reasonably new to Mitchell, but it allowed certain spells to be kept running so that their effect lingered as long as you maintained the spell. It was more difficult to maintain a spell while casting new ones, a little bit like humming a song while you tried to do something else, and this became even more difficult if something happened that might break your concentration.

‘Like being struck by a magick bolt of fire because you were not paying attention.’

Mitchell channelled the magickal energies from within to cast the enchantment. This was not the hard part of this test.

“Extende aspectum meum et da mihi”

(Extend my sight and grant to me)

“Visio magica vertentes circa me”

(The vision of magical channelling around me)

Sense Casting was from a sphere of magick generally just called ‘universal’ magick. It meant in practice that nearly all casters knew these spells, and while they were generally powered from within, the effort to cast them was usually less than more powerful spells from other spheres.

“Good,” praised Brother Turin. “Your spell weaves are really very strong for one so young. You have the potential to be a powerful mage one day, and the heart to be a good person too.”

‘Brother Turin is nice, but a bit odd. An elderly priest of Faylen, he is exactly what you expect most of the time, kind, wise and full of grandfatherly advice. And then, sometimes, it feels like he is staring straight into your soul. But not in a good way. Creepier. More like he is deciding whether he wants to devour it. Maybe he can see who we really are by staring into our souls? Maybe he does not always like what he sees?

“Now, Mitchell, I want you to concentrate on me and my casting,” instructed Maragon. “First I want you to just try to openly stop my casting attempt. Use cues from what you can see normally, and from what you can see with your Sense Casting enchantment, to try and disrupt or destroy the spell weaves you see me forming.”

“Counter-casting is often more difficult than deflecting the magick, so this will be the harder part of the test. I am eager to see how you do,” proclaimed Brother Turin.

Maragon began to draw in magickal fire energy, preparing to cast a simple ‘fire orb’ attack.’

‘I can see he is channelling fire energy. I can also see he is doing this more slowly than he is capable. I should be thankful, I could not stop him from casting anything he wanted if this was for real.’

“You can try to disrupt while they are still gathering the magickal energy, but this is more difficult, and likely just slows them down,” advised Brother Turin. “Best to wait until they start to cast the spell itself, and then you attack the spell weave directly, or corrupt and take the weave for your own.” The fervor in the priest’s voice grew as the sentence concluded.

‘Wait for the spell weave.’

Maragon began to cast the fire orb, the spell weave creating flashes of flame which began to coalesce in the palm of his hand into the flaming orb he would hurl at Mitchell.

‘Now!’

Mitchell began his counter spell attempt.

“Telum anti-magica quaero”

(A weapon of anti-magick do I seek)

“Ut conteram hunc vertentes texere coram me”

(To break this channelling weave before me)

While invisible to the normal eye, with his Sense Channelling running, Mitchell could see the pale, transparent magickal energies around him, and he shaped them into an anti-magick spear. He then used his magick to propel the spear towards the spell weave Maragon was casting, targeting what looked like the weakest point in the weave.

The spear impacted against the weave and pierced it deeply. The spell-weave fractured, and the Orb quickly collapsed in on itself and vanished.

“Good,” commended Maragon. “Well done. You have successfully countered, which is the first part of the test.”

“Yes… excellent,” agreed Brother Turin. “Your speed to channel the spell was also excellent for one so young. With the right temperament, he could be a powerful weapon.”

Maragon looked at Brother Turin with annoyance. “I often wonder why Sha’Shayla chose you. I often wonder about many of her choices.”

Brother Turin apologised with a gesture.

“I mean he could be a most excellent ally or future member of the Seven,” Father Turin corrected.

“Is that what I’m training for? To one day be part of the Seven?” asked Mitchell excitedly.

“Contractions! A short cut in speech is a short-cut in thought, which is death to the wizard!” barked Maragon.

“Sorry, Master,” Mitchell replied. These days he only let contractions slip when he was tired or excited. Apparently almost nobody in the whole empire of Cthrag Merlo used them. A part of the Archeron teachings.

“As for joining the Seven, that is indeed one possibility for you, one-day,” confirmed Maragon, before he turned to Brother Turin and said quietly yet firmly, “Train your own successors!”

If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

Mitchell was so excited..

“Could others join? Alicia and Hawkin? We could be the Saranti Ten!” exclaimed Mitchell excitedly.

“That is not quite how it works,” replied Maragon. “And now is not the time to discuss that. We still have the second part of the test today. And despite what Brother Turin said earlier, I believe this to be the more difficult part.”

“I would recommend standing for this part. I want you to defend against these next attacks using your magick. Parry, deflect or evade the attacks as you see fit, but remember in each case that each attack has different strengths and weaknesses,” taught Maragon. “There are different defensive spells you can use which can be quite specific for a particular type of spell, or others which are more generic in nature. Usually the more specific the defence, the more likely it is to succeed against the right spell, but also the higher the chance your defence fails if the attack is not what you expected.”

“Yes, master,” replied Mitchell, as he tried to calm himself. Emotions, both excitement and nerves, were racing through him.

“While the ramifications for you are far less,” began Maragon, “I want you to understand the purpose behind this test. Amongst the Ashar, this test was used to decide an apprentice’s aptitude for combat magick. And the result here impacted some of the paths for the rest of their training.

“By less ramifications for you, he means he is going to make you keep doing martial and combat training regardless of what result you get here,” interjected Brother Turin with a grin. Maragon scowled at the priest for the interruption.

“There are five attacks of increasing difficulty,” continued Maragon. “Defending against four or more of the attacks would see an apprentice recommended for a high combat path such as War Wizard. Two or more and you could apply for a high combat path, but you were recommended for something less militant. One or less, and you were forbidden from any of the combat paths for the rest of your training, and would instead focus on magicks which could be used away from battle.”

“How many did you defend on your first attempt?” asked Mitchell.

“Four,” replied Maragon, “but I was slightly older than you when I reached this stage of my training.”

“Just defend against each attack. I will keep sending new attacks at you. While the goal is to defend them all, almost nobody defeats all of them the first time. Defending even the first is considered a pass,” instructed Maragon. “Remember, provided the spell does not strike you in anyway, you are considered to have defended it successfully.”

“How very War Wizard of you,” mocked Brother Turin playfully. “Purist mages stand aghast at this modern interpretation of magick defence. Will we have ballet dancers claiming to be defensive wizards?”

“Provided the attack does not hit you, you defeated it, yes?” rebuked Maragon. “Can we get back to the lesson now?”

“Have you kept your ‘Sense Casting’ enchantment running?” asked Maragon.

Mitchell had let it drop during the excitement of passing the first part of the test. He shook his head.

“Sorry, Master.”

“It is fine. Please re-cast it before we continue,” instructed Maragon calmly.

Mitchell did as instructed, and re-cast the spell. He could already feel the fatigue from casting those three spells beginning to sap at his strength.

Maragon began to cast the first attack spell. Mitchell could tell immediately it was the same spell he cast before. As the flame orb began to take shape, Mitchell began to cast a ‘Fire Shield’ spell. Defensive spells were generally easier and faster to cast than their attacking equivalents, as the magick didn’t need to be as durable. It only existed for a very short period of time, and it rarely had to leave the area immediately around the caster.

To minimise how much he further drained his magickal reserves, Mitchell drew some of the flame energy from the candles burning around them.

“Clama flammae”

(I call forth a shield of flame)

Mitchell quickly cast the spell ‘Fire Shield’, and he was happy the weave of the spell was strong. A shimmering shield of fire hovered in front of Mitchell. Maragon’s flame orb arched towards him and impacted against the Shield. Mitchell had not cast more than a few defensive spells, and never had to resist a real magickal attack before, so he flinched as the orb hit. There was a fiery crackle, like from a bonfire as the two collided. The fire shield buckled slightly, but it held. The orb flashed and burned itself out harmlessly, followed shortly after by the Shield.

“You should keep the Shield, child, if possible. Discard it only once you know the second attack cannot also be stopped by it,” encouraged Brother Turin.

‘Good suggestion. That would further conserve my energies.’

Maragon quickly began the second spell once the first one failed. This time lightning started to crackle around him as he cast.

Lightning arrow most likely. Best specific defence is Earth, but I am stronger with Lightning.

“Clypeum fulguris voco”

(I call forth a shield of lightning)

The weave on his second spell was more rushed, but it was still pretty good. As before, a shield of lightning appeared before Mitchell just before the arrow flashed towards him. It was impossible to truly track the lightning bolt as it moved too fast, but the shield reacted and intercepted the blast. There was a double sound of thunder. First when the bolt streaked towards Mitchell, and a 2nd slightly louder burst when the bolt hit the shield. Mitchell felt static electricity wash over him, and the hairs on his arms and neck all felt the harmless current wash over them.

This time there was no respite at all between attacks, and Maragon was already casting the third attack. Looking through his Sense Casting enchantment, Mitchell could see a larger build-up of fire energy, and what looked like three separate fire arrows being formed.

My shield won’t hold versus that. This one I better dodge.

Mitchell began casting an Illusion spell which would confuse and blur where he was standing, to try and get the caster to attack where Mitchell was not.

“Hac fallacia, locum meum obfusco”

(With this illusion, I obfuscate my appearance)

The weave on this spell was better than Mitchell had expected. It blurred the air around him during which time Mitchell also shifted slightly, and when it cleared his image was a good three feet to the left of where he was now standing. The three arrows streaked forwards, fanning out slightly as they flew. Two struck the image and one missed on the near side, but none hit Mitchell. His image vanished as the two missiles hit it, and his true self re-appeared.

“Nicely done,” congratulated Brother Turin. “One more to equal your master.”

Maragon had already moved onto the next attack, and Mitchell watched as his master began to channel flame energy. But a lot more than last time.

This one is going to explode when it hits.

Mitchell immediately started to cast the biggest water shield he could - he did not even wait until he saw the spell itself being cast by Maragon. A few seconds later he saw Maragon conjuring a flaming arrow with what looked like an explosive orb on the end. Mitchell continued to accumulate water energy, intending to totally surround himself in a bubble of shielding water, a spell which really was more powerful than he could easily cast.

‘But I assume this test is supposed to push us beyond our limits if we want to survive all five attacks.’

So focused on the water bubble was Mitchell, that he lost the grasp on his Sense Channelling enchantment, and it failed. Maragon continued to cast for a few more seconds longer than Mitchell expected, and then threw the orb towards him. Mitchell had now channelled more than enough water magick for his purposes and cast his protective water bubble.

“Murum aquarum voco ad te”

(Wall of water I call to thee)

“Me contra hanc flammam protégé”

(Protect me against this flame)

The weave was complex, trying to put the shield all the way around him, but Mitchell was relieved to see it was holding together. The flaming arrow hit it, but something did not look quite right. The orb on the end was not fiery like Mitchell had expected. In fact, it looked more like a small pebble now. The flaming arrow struck the large, but thin barrier of water in front of it. The arrow hissed and was quickly extinguished as it hit the wall of water. But the pebble splashed through the veil of water almost unhindered.

Mitchell stood there stunned as the pebble continued, arching down and striking him across the thigh.

Brother Turin applauded. Maragon’s face was mostly neutral with perhaps the faintest hint of a grin.

Mitchell hung his head in disappointment.

‘I let the Sense Channelling drop, and then I missed the magickal warning that Maragon was using meta-magick to change the original spell. My defensive spell was more than powerful enough, it was just the wrong spell. Stupid mistake.’

“You stopped three waves of the attack. That is excellent!” congratulated Brother Turin.

“It was always going to be difficult to stop that fourth attack once your Sense Casting enchantment failed,” conceded Maragon. “Once your spell stopped the arrow, and slowed the stone a little, you could have perhaps just jumped out of the way.”

“Just dodging the spell by moving out of the way doesn’t really seem in keeping with the test,” replied Mitchell, his voice and mannerisms making it clear he was being quite hard on himself.

“Contractions!” warned Maragon, although with less vehemence than the first time. “Provided the attack misses you have evaded its effects, and therefore passed the test. At least, that is how I have always viewed it.”

“And what an interesting interpretation that is,” interjected Brother Turin.

“The thing to remember, Mitchell, is wherever possible you want to have a contingency plan for everything. If you are attacking someone or something, you have at least one, ideally more, back-up plans in case the first one is not working, or you encounter something you did not expect. The same with your defence. Ideally you would have another line of defence or some other aspect to help save you if your initial spell defence fails.”

“How do you have a back-up plan for something you did not expect?” asked Mitchell, confusion apparent on his face.

“There are things that truly cannot be anticipated. But they are rarer than you think. If I were to plan an assault on a goblin war camp, I would normally anticipate outlying scouts or patrols, likely with wolves or worgs with a strong sense of smell. I would anticipate traps, goblins love traps. I would anticipate goblin warriors, armed with spears, short bows and daggers. I would have a plan to allow for the possibility of larger goblinoid creatures such as orcs or even an ogre. I would have another plan to allow for the possibility of magick users such as a shaman or sorcerer.”

Mitchell nodded his understanding. “And if the goblin leader was riding a red dragon?” he asked. Maragon and Turin both laughed before Maragon answered.

“I would hope Javelin knew about a minor thing like a red dragon before we began the assault, but if the goblin did indeed have a red dragon mount we did not know about, that would fall into the ‘cannot be anticipated’ category.”

Mitchell nodded again but was inwardly pleased he had come up with something Maragon would not have a plan for.

“However, you could anticipate for forces or eventualities so strong your assault can no longer succeed, in which case you would have a plan for your forces to retreat with a minimum of losses. And with this, you at least have one plan for the maximum number of contingencies.”

Mitchell nodded again, this time with more understanding of the depth Maragon put into planning things.

"Always have a contingency plan,” Mitchell murmured back. “Thank you master.”

“Congratulations, Mitchell. You passed the test, and passed it well,” concluded Maragon.