As Ferret emerged from the murky swamp, his feet sinking into the soft earth with each step, he spotted a small cave nestled among the gnarled roots of a nearby tree. It was large enough for him to crawl into and hide from unwanted attention. He resisted the urge to start a fire, knowing it would give away his location to any adventurers in pursuit. The thought of the bloodthirsty elf tracking him like prey sent shivers down his spine. He quickly ducked into the safety of the cave, heart racing as he listened for any signs of danger outside.

Ferret put the thought of them out of his mind. Now I have magic. He carefully opened the book and revealed the first spell.

"What the hell?" He flipped over page after page, revealing nothing but gibberish.

Fizzit perched on his shoulder and peered at the book.

"It's written in High Gothic. Can't you read?"

"I can read some Common. Why the hell's it written in High Whatever? And this other one looks like a snail took the long way across a page!"

"It's elvish," Fizzit said, looking over the gracefully curving words. "Many races consider the calligraphy the most beautiful of all the scripts."

"Why is it written in different languages?" Ferret demanded, glaring at the self-evident stupidity.

"Wizards like writing spells in different languages. It makes them feel more special. Most wizards speak several languages. The most powerful spells are written in obscure tongues. Some wizards spend years deciphering an old dead alphabet to learn something no one else has. "

"That sucks!"

"It certainly sucks for you." Fizzit nodded in sympathy. "Are you done?"

"Didn't you say you teach me magic?" Ferret recalled.

"I served several wizards to help with the theory but couldn't cast anything. Wizardry's not my thing, but I can teach you High Gothic, which is standard for magic. I speak Elvish, but I need to improve. I need to be vegetarian to get the whole meaning.

"And how long will this take?"

"Months," Fizzit shrugged. "And who knows for the elvish? I hear elf children spend decades in school."

Fizzit said spells required long, complicated incantations, so all but the simplest was cast directly from a book. Ferret needed the ability to read.

"There is something I can teach you. It's more a meditation than a spell." Fizzit took pity on the frustrated goblin. "Apprentices learn it first, as it teaches the mind to perceive strange energies. It's called Sense Magic. Senior Guild Mages can do it without thinking, but apprentices must work at it."

Ferret was eager. He didn't care if it did anything as long as it did something.

Fizzit had the goblin kneel, close his eyes, and try to clear his mind. "And don't fidget. Now repeat after me." The homunculus rattled off a long string of strange sounds.

Ferret repeated them. His tongue struggled with the alien sounds.

"All spells are in this language. They say it's supposed to be Draconic, but I've never heard of any dragon using it."

The goblin said the words over and over until he mastered them.

Hours they were passed. Fizzit suggested they take a break, but determined and unyielding Ferret insisted they continue until they got it right. He was desperate to see his first spell come to fruition, no matter how long it took.

Suddenly, there was an itch in the back of his mind. "Was that magic?" He focused on it, but it slipped away. The more he strained for it, the more it stayed out of reach.

He tried to think. What to do? Apprentices can do this. Why can't he? That may be the problem.

He relaxed and let the chant flow over him. And the magic came. The energy flowed through him, carving new channels and pathways.

Ferret opened his eyes to see Fizzit watching him with his slit eyes. Only now, the homunculus was surrounded by a dull blue glow. He glanced around to see coloured streams of light twisting through the cave's air.

"If the spell has worked, you are seeing Raw Magic. This is the power you are drawing on when you cast a spell."

Ferret saw the raw magic didn't just drift. It meandered along the cave floor while a faint green glow clung to where a tree's roots protruded. Magic! He whispered. He reached his hand out and commanded the drifting magic winds to his will. They ignored him.

"You need a spell to get them to do anything." Fizzit intones as is repeating a classroom lesson. "A few practitioners can affect the Winds directly, but only for minor effects. To get a specific effect, you need a specific spell. Wizardry is not a school for those who like improvising their magic."

"Well, fine." Ferret felt a little foolish but still glad he had gotten his first spell to work. His stomach rumbled, and he couldn't remember the last time he had eaten. "How long has it been?". He had long since lost track of time.

"It's morning. You were at it all night." Fizzit answered the unasked question. "I can't believe you did it on the first attempt. It takes most apprentices months to get the Sense Magic to work."

Ferret's shoulders straightened, and he held his head a little higher. "That's because I'm the best."

Ferret's body sagged under the weight of his accomplishments, and he finally gave in to exhaustion, falling into a blissful slumber. Fizzit perched on a nearby branch, watching the peaceful goblin before spreading his wings and soaring into the sky. He weaved through the dense canopy of trees, scanning for potential threats, but found only more of the fetid swamp. He glided effortlessly through the cool air and spotted a venomous serpent slithering towards Ferret's resting place. Fizzit swooped and killed the snake with a sharp screech, protecting his companion from harm.

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

Ferret's dreams were a flurry of swirling visions, each a mosaic of words, sentences, and phrases. An unseen voice echoed through his mind, lecturing him on the intricacies of grammar and sentence construction. Each concept was like a puzzle piece, fitting into place to form a complete picture. As he drifted through his dream world, Ferret experienced the concepts settling into his mind and taking root.

Ferret stirred from his slumber, even more drained than before. He let out a fart and absently scratched, wondering where Fizzit had gone off to. Judging by the darkness outside the cave, he must have slept through the entire day. Back in the home warren, a goblin only slept for a few hours before others assumed they were dead and started fighting over their belongings.

"To hell with it," he muttered, rolling back over and returning to his slumber. But even in his dreams, written words seemed to float through his mind, each script more foreign and obscure than the last. An unseen voice rambled about dozens of languages, their complexities unravelling before him like a puzzle waiting to be solved.

Morning came, and Ferret woke to find Fizzit had dumped a brightly coloured snake before him. The goblin poked at it cautiously to make sure it was dead.

"Breakfast is served," the homunculus chirped. "We need a fire, but I assume you can manage." His eyes widened as he witnessed the snake being stuffed, raw, into the goblin's mouth. Ferret grinned as he munched down.

"Thanks," he said through a mouthful of snake. "I was famished."

Fizzit was amazed and more than a little horrified. "Are you even ... are you going to chew?"

Ferret flashed a wide grin as he happily munched on his meal.

As his vision crossed the book lying on a rock, he paused, and his lips instinctively sounded out the strange symbols on the book's cover. Ferret's eyes widen in shock. He blinked and shook his head, unable to believe what he saw. He could read! He began flipping through the pages with trembling hands, scanning each word with disbelief and excitement. His voice was rough as he read, pausing occasionally to sound out tricky words before eagerly continuing.

He excitedly munched down on the last of the snake before declaring to Fizzit, "I can read!" In proof, he read a section aloud. Throwing the first book aside, Ferret eagerly reached for another from his pouch. This one is adorned with intricate elvish script. He can hardly contain his glee as he recognizes the letters and begins to read. "It's elvish!" he exclaimed, marvelling at his newfound ability to understand a language he had never heard.

Ferret eagerly flipped through the worn pages of the elvish book, hoping to find a spell to help him in his quest. But as he turned each page, he realized it was not a book of magic. "What is this?" he muttered to himself. "A treatise on plants?" He glanced at the intricate illustrations and diagrams, and despite not knowing anything about the Eastern Marches, he couldn't resist diving into their enchanting world. "Wow," he exclaimed at each exotic plant, eyes scanning every detail with fascination. "This is amazing!" As he continued reading, his mind filled with endless possibilities.

Ferret and Fizzit returned to the ancient spell book, their youthful faces alight with curiosity and excitement. But as they flip through the yellowed pages, their enthusiasm quickly turns to disappointment.

"It's not exactly a beginner's book," Fizzit observed. The intricate symbols and complex incantations were far beyond their level of understanding. Ferret furrowed his brow in frustration, wishing he had grabbed a more straightforward guide. The book was filled with spells, but the fundamental concepts needed to be included, leaving them needing help with how to proceed. They exchanged puzzled glances, wondering if they should continue attempting to decipher the arcane text or search for a more suitable resource.

"I know some of the theory," Fizzit said. "But these are big spells. Even if we got them to work, the power requirements alone would drain you."

In theory, being a wizard was simple. Each spell was laid out the same way. A preamble described what the spell was and how it was used. There was a series of words that had to be spoken in Draconic. There was a diagram Fizzit said indicated the required hand movements. This caused the spell to form as the wizard funnelled energy through it using a set of hand gestures, and the spell went off.

"Simple." He said.

"Simple?" Ferret repeated.

It was simple in theory, except they couldn't get it to work. Fizzit suggested it might be too advanced. "Some spells require a certain amount of technical knowledge. It takes some wizards years to work up to them."

Fizzit instructed the goblin on the notations for hand positions and how to make specific gestures.

Ferret made good progress and quickly mastered the six positions, the four alignments, and the nine stations. The nine stations referred to his hand position in front of him. Hand at face or waist level, left or right, and various combinations.

Ferret practised it repeatedly, and Fizzit corrected each station until each was perfect.

"Excellent." Fizzit eventually said. "Now, do it backwards."

The four alignments were more accessible—hand straight with palm down. Palm left like shaking hands. Palm up like accepting a gift. And palm forward as if pushing.

"There is a palm towards you and a palm facing right, but they are scarce," Fizzit said.

With his nimble fingers, Ferret excelled at the six positions. Fingers in a fist, index finger extended, index and second finger extended, index, second and little finger extended, fingers extended, and widespread.

Positions, alignments, and stations made two hundred and sixteen combinations possible.

And the spells still did not work. The magical energy would not work as the spell described.

They knew they were on the right path as sometimes Ferret was rewarded by a spray of sparks or glowing hands. He sensed the power, but it lacked concentration.

"We must be missing something," Fizzit said. "I never saw other wizards putting this much work into a minor spell casting."

"I'm pretty sure there's a trick with the words we're just not seeing." Ferret pointed to the set of three words to be incanted. "Some secret everyone knows but us."

Fizzit nodded. "With a name like The Force Bolt of Eamon the Apprentice, I assume it's not a difficult spell. Perhaps we're supposed to be repeating the words?"

The phrase repeating struck a chord with Ferret. He struggled to recall the wizard cast spells during the battle. The din of combat had been overwhelming, but he remembered the repetitive chant. "It had a sort of building sensation," he mumbled.

Then it came to him. "I've got it." The spell builds. He eagerly pointed to the words. "I thought this spell was familiar. I saw a wizard casting it the other day. You say the first word, then the second word, followed by the first. Then you say the third word, the second, and the first."

Fizzit leaned forward to peer at the inscription. "Well, I'll be a troll's sandwich." He said. "I think you're right. If you know the trick, it's obvious, but to everyone else, it's just a set of words." he nodded. "Let's give it a go."

He needn't have bothered to ask because the goblin was already chanting, his hand moving in the simple gestures required. He closed his eyes and intoned the words. When he completed the chant, the lines of the pattern suddenly glowed, and Ferret felt a wind rushing through him, filling him with energy.

He opened his eyes, and a white blast of energy shot from his fingertip and wiped across the room, narrowly missing Fizzit, who had taken the precaution of hiding behind a rock. The rock exploded into shards.

Ferret and Fizzit were elated. The goblin spun in joy while the homunculus buzzed around him.

Suddenly, the goblin staggered, leaning against the wall for support.

"What's wrong with me?" Ferret swayed before vomiting onto the cave floor.

"You've used too much energy," Fizzit said. "You've drawn on your body's stores, and now you're empty." he looked at the regurgitated snake. "In more ways than one."

"This can't be happening." Ferret closed his eyes, feeling the pounding in his temples. "You said I was drawing on the Winds of Magic. You lied. It came from me."

"The spell needs to be cast slowly to let the power build. If you cast too quickly, the spell draws from your reserves. It's why wizards suck at combat because each spell takes so long."

Ferret tried to throw up again, but his belly was empty, and all he could do was dry retch.

"You must build up your reserves to hold more magic," Fizzit said, patting the goblin on his back. "Also, the more precisely you cast the spell, the more efficient it is."

"And the less magic I need," Ferret groaned.

"Cheer up; all you need is something to eat." Fizzit peered at the puddle of half-digested reptiles. "All you need is something else to eat."