Mar gently closed the ancient tome he had just been reading aloud from. Livy had stopped paying attention a minute in. Even now she was looking right at Mar, but seemed to be staring through him, eyes unfocused. She had a dopey grin on her face and was starting to drool. Daydreaming about something, no doubt. Mar sighed. This was a constant problem with Livy, and most mages in general. They didn’t see the value in their classes that didn’t seem to have any practical application to magic, and so they didn’t pay attention, even during his one-on-one study sessions.
Mar opened the book back up, then slammed it shut. Livy jumped in her seat, shaken out of her stupor. She quickly wiped a sleeve across her face.
“Now then Livy, since I know you were riveted to the excerpt I just read, it’s time for a pop quiz.” Livy groaned and blushed at Mar’s comment and knowing smirk.
“Now then, can you tell me what the story was about?” Mar probed.
“It was some sort of creation mythology.” Livy replied uncertainly.
“Yes. And?”
“Uhh, there was a guy named something Marvar…”
“Magni Marvar.”
“He did some stuff and made some things and then boom. Here we are!” Livy looked up at Mar pitifully, in the hope that he would accept that as an answer and they could finally move on from this topic.
Maybe it was the fact that he was still soaking wet, but Mar wasn’t feeling merciful today. “Take the book home with you Livy. Reread the passage and be ready for me to quiz you on it at the beginning of our next tutoring session.”
Livy grumbled something under her breath. “Itsyourfaultfortryingtoteachmewhilesoakingwetandshirtless…”
“What was that?” Mar asked. The words were too fast and soft to catch.
Livy covered her head with her arms and sank onto the desk, hiding her blushing face. “Sorry Mar, it’s just that this stuff is so… useless! How is outdated theological dogma supposed to help me learn magic!”
Mar sighed knowingly. That was the same question he got every time he tutored one of the mage students. Not being a mage himself, he couldn’t tutor students in any of their magic courses, so he was stuck teaching what was usually known as the ‘useless’ classes. The history of Orlem and the League, the lives of famous mages, theoretical theology, and all the other classes that mages were forced to take and didn’t really apply themselves in.
“I wouldn’t know what’s useful and what’s not, not being a mage.” The words sounded slightly bitter to Mar’s ears, even after all these years. “But your mother hired me to help you pass your History of Magic exam, and I know from experience that this will be on it. You do want to be able to move on to next year, don’t you?”
“Yeah… I just wish I didn’t have to study this junk.” Livy waved her hand.
Mar pursed his lips, disappointed rather than angry. He rather liked the dusty old history books. But he could understand Livy’s perspective. Being a history student had been his second choice after all. Without talent, imagining the great mages of the past was as close as he could get to working spells himself. Why would Livy want to imagine being a mage when she was one herself?
“Alright then.” Mar said while standing up. “That concludes our lesson for the day. Let’s leave before the Mr. Thoswallow works up the nerve to show his face again.”
As Livy stood up, Mar was reminded of the fact that she was only two years his junior. Many parents would be anxious about leaving their daughter out late at night with a commoner orphan boy who lived in directly adjacent to the slums, but even a first order mage like Livy had nothing to fear from an unarmed and magic-less bookworm. Besides that, many years had passed since the days when daughters were valued only for their virginity. Especially if they were mages.
Mar escorted Livy up the stairs, chatting with her about how she was doing in her other classes. She seemed to be having particular trouble with runic theory.
“You know, I might be able to help you out in that class as well.” Mar said.
Livy looked at him quizzically. “But don’t you need mana to make a functional runic lay-line pattern? And you’re just a… well…”
“It’s true I can’t make a runic pattern myself, but anyone can use one that has already been produced by a mage, so long as it still has power. While I might not be able to build one myself, I think I have a fairly solid understanding of the theory behind it.”
Livy still didn’t believe him. “But you’re not a mage! How could you know what you're saying is right?”
Mar nodded. “Yes, you have a point there, but how do you know anything in the book you just read is real? How do you know the things you read in your magic texts aren’t just made up? You have to take some things on faith otherwise you’d need to witness every experiment that’s ever been done in the fields of magic.”
“So, you’re saying you’re like a textbook?”
“Exactly. I can’t perform any magic on my own, but I can explain how you should be able to.”
Livy still didn’t believe him. “Tell me then, how do you cast an invocation spell?”
“Oh! So now the student is testing the teacher!” Mar grinned.
“Casting an invocation spell is different from creating a regular spell-weave, which is done by hand by the mage when they want to make magic happen. An invocation spell requires a template for the spell to already be made and imprinted on your aura. Because of the length of time it takes for a mage to weave a spell versus trigger an invocation spell, most mages rely exclusively on invocation magic for combat.
“That’s the difference between invocation magic and regular magic, but how do you actually go about setting up an invocation spell?”
“I’ve never had the opportunity to run through the process myself, but from what I have read I know that the aura is key to invocation magic. It’s like a…” Mar struggled to find an analogy “A pig's bladder that you can poke holes in.”
Livy giggled at the silly comparison. “I’m sure most mages enjoy being compared to a pig’s bladder.”
“Oh, but this is a very powerful pig’s bladder. With proper practice and training, spellform templates can be crafted into the aura itself, allowing mana to escape through them and be shaped as it leaves. Therefore, mages must spend time equipping an invocation spell before they cast it.” Mar stopped to breath for a moment as he explained basic spell theory at a rapid-fire pace.
Before he could continue, Livy interrupted him.”Alright, enough, I believe you! I don’t want to go through Introduction to Spell Theory all over again!”
Livy laughed, and Mar joined her. Then it was broken when a chortling third laugh rang out in sarcastic tones from a dozen paces away.
“Hahaha! So, the orphan book boy thinks he knows a little magic! Explains why you think you can punch out of your league.” A nasty sounding voice mocked. He had three friends with him, and they broke into sneering laughs at their leader’s words.
“Darrik.” Mar muttered. “You should run home, Livy.” Livy didn’t move. “Listen Darrik. I don’t know how I offended you. I’ve been friends with Verona from our days at the orphanage together. Nothing more.”
“Ha! Don’t make me laugh, mundane! You’ve been spending time with my fiancé! Bad enough she’s got elf-blood in her, I don’t want people think she’s unfaithful too! I want you gone, out of her life, you hear me! She’s engaged to me, and a prospective member of the Pyrastern family now! I never want to see you again.”
“That feeling is mutual Darrik. I plan to stay as far away from you as often as possible. Though I’m going to offer you a word of advice. Don’t talk like that in front of Verona.”
Livy was glaring at Darrik with a heavy frown of disapproval, but she didn’t say anything. Any other idiot of Darrik’s caliber would have been shut up long ago, but nobody wanted to cross the Pyrastern family.
Darrik noticed the look. “Oh! Think you can threaten me, do you?” Darrik grinned maliciously.
Suddenly Mar felt his back get hot, as if his clothes were on fire. Then he saw the flames and noticed the seat of his pants was burning.
Luckily, his clothes were still damp enough to slow the fire's spread, and Mar was able to pat the flames out without hopping around like an idiot with his pants on fire.
“Hey! It’s against the school rules to use magic against mundanes!” Livy shouted angrily.
“What! But he threatened me! It was in self-defense!” Darrik insisted. “You all saw?” he turned to his cronies behind him. They nodded gravely.
“D-don’t give me that crap. I saw what happened.” Livy replied angrily, but not as certainly as before.
“Oh, and what proof does a merchant’s daughter have that will stand against the scions of five young mages from reputed families that have been making mages since the founding of Orlem?” Darrik sneered. “Get out of here first-generation brat. And learn when your betters are speaking, little first-order, before you make a fool of yourself.”
Livy looked at Mar, a sad expression in her eyes. She glared at Darrik. “I’m going to get a master!”
Darrik shooed her off with an I-don’t-care expression. Once she was out of sight his expression deteriorated into one of pure malice.
“Alright then. I think we have about five minutes to give Mar here.”
One of the other boys looked uncertain. “Hey Darrik, you said we were just going to give him a warning. If that girl does come back with a teacher it could put us on probation.”
“Your family would be on the streets if it wasn’t for mine, Roy.” Darrik hissed. “Remember that next time you question me.”
Roy gulped, then hesitantly stepped towards Mar and cracked his knuckles. “Right then. Let’s do this thing.”
Mar heard them talking, and there was no way in the abyss he was about to stick around for something these mages were actively describing as ‘the worst beating of his life’. He’d gotten into his share of smack-downs, but being on the receiving end of a magically empowered beating was not on his to-do list. Why did Darrik hate him so much anyway?
Mar was dashing away at top speed, and the mages step into motion to follow him. This was good, the mages probably used the floating paths to get everywhere, rather than walking. Mar might spend most of his days with his face in a book, but living on the other end of the city required quite a bit of walking, floating paths or not.
“Trip him Roy!” one of the mages shouted.
The cobblestone path Mar was running along shook slightly. Several of the stones turned on end, jutting out of the ground like pillars a hands breadth tall. They were hard to spot now that the sun had set and Mar nearly fell over. He was forced to stop running and carefully watch where he was going. Their earth mage was smoothing the path in front of them, and the mages were gaining on Mar.
He had to get off the road. Mar saw an unpaved opening between buildings and quickly leapt between them. If he could get back to the center of campus he’d be safe. The Pyrasterns were counted among the three most powerful families in Orlem, but there were still limits to what Darrik could do in the public eye.
Just as Mar was beginning to think he had lost them, a blast of wind knocked Mar off his feet and sent him sprawling on the ground. His head slammed into a few loose rocks and Mar saw stars floating across his vision.
“Nice work Ayron!” one of the mages said between heavy breaths.
Mar didn’t lie in wait for them though, he rolled over his hand clutching a fist-full of dirt and pebbles from the rock-laden ground under him. As he rolled, he threw the scattering of dirt and pebbles right at the mage’s faces. Hopefully a bit of dirt in their eyes would be enough for them to decide this wasn’t worth the trouble.
If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
“Oh no you don’t!” Darrik screeched angrily while spitting out chunks of dirt.
“Fire ring!” Darrik hissed the trigger word to an invocation. Mana rushed out of his aura far faster than with even the simplest of spell-weaves.
Instantly fire leapt up in a wall around Mar. He turned around, but the flames enveloped him completely. Even if he hadn’t just heard Darrik cast the spell Mar would have known this fire was magically fueled. The flames reached just past his head, and were an unnatural deep-red color.
What was odd though was that the flames didn’t feel particularly hot. Mar tested the flames by bringing a hand close to them. When he didn’t feel any heat he stuck a finger into the flame.
Instantly if felt as though all the blood was drained from his arm. Everything past the wrist felt completely numb, and he couldn’t move his fingers no matter how hard he tried. It was as if someone had removed all the blood from his hand. Mar rubbed it with his good hand hoping to bring the feeling back.
Darrik saw the look on Mar’s face and laughed. “What’s the matter, mundane? Never heard of blood-fire before? I shouldn’t think so. It’s a family spell.”
“Uhh, boss?” The earth mage prodded nervously. “Should you really be using invocation magic? Messing with simple spell-weaves is one thing but irresponsible use of spells could be dangerous.”
The other mages backed away from the earth mage. Darrik turned and looked him in the eye, then swiftly backhanded him across the face. “Do NOT question me like that, Roy. I don’t let you cling to me like the leech you are for your moral input on my every action.”
Mar decided this was his chance to ask the question that had burning in his mind. “Why do you hate me so much, Darrik? I’m not a mage, I’m in none of your classes, as far as I can remember I’ve never done anything to hurt you. And don’t try to tell me this is about Verona. You disliked me long before you met her.”
Darrik stepped closer to the wall of flames so that Mar could make out his form past the flickering red light. He hissed out a single sentence. “You stole what rightfully should have been mine.”
“What?” Mar asked in confusion, but Darrik had already stepped back in line with his friends.
Darrik rubbed the part of his face where the rock struck him. “Now mundane. You’re going to pay for throwing stones at us. Roy, you’re an earth mage, aren’t you? Make me some rocks ten times as big as the one that hit me. Let’s see how he likes getting stones thrown at him!” Darrik smiled evilly.
Roy didn’t have an invocation for making rocks set up, so they had to wait several minutes for Roy manually bind dirt together and harden it into a type of sudo-stone earth mages often used for construction.
Mar had been inspecting his dead arm, which was tingling slightly as blood slowly came back to it. This only heightened the sensation of the limb being dipped in boiling water, and Mar winced as he cradled his arm. He wondered how much worse it would have been if he had stuck his whole hand through the blood-fire.
With only the slightest sound in warning, a fist size clump of magically compressed dirt hit Mar in the stomach, doubling him over in pain. The material turned to dust on impact, but it was still like taking a punch in the gut from someone wearing a steel gauntlet.
It was quickly followed by another one that hit Mar in the shoulder of his good arm. He tried to brush away the dirt but remembered he still couldn’t move his other arm. This one doubled him over, pushing him to the ground. He managed to stop his head just before it came into contact with the circle of blood-fire. If it could make his hand to numb, Mar didn’t want to know what it could do to his head.
Another dirt-rock flew through the air, but this time Mar was too low for it to hit him. Mar realized that while the flames obscured his vision and limited his ability to predict where the arms were coming from, they also obscured his assailants aim.
Mar realized he could use this to his advantage, and he started sticking to the sides of the ring. Most of the following projectiles missed him. One got him in the ribs and another grazed the side of his head. The final hit struck him hard on the leg just as he was ducking to save his head. After that though, the projectiles stopped.
Mar couldn’t see what had happened beyond the blood-fire, but he heard footsteps hurrying away. It took a minute, but after Darrik moved away the mana fueling the spell started running low and the spell started flickering out. In another minute there was a gap in the flame large enough for Mar to jump through.
He looked around. No sign of Darrik and crew. Mar felt himself up and down. What didn’t already ache certainly would by tomorrow. He felt his face, trying to determine if the rock clump that grazed him would give him a black eye.
Mar gritted his teeth. This wasn’t the first time a mage had ruined his night on a whim. If Mar had been a mage like them they wouldn’t have dared… but he was, so they did.
Mar cursed his ill fortune if it wasn’t for his debt he could move out of this portion of the city. At least then the only mages he’d interact with would be professional working-class mages, rather then entitled and sadistic scions of the uber-elite.
Maybe he would have to give into Darrik’s demands after all and stop trying to see Verona. It’s not like he’d been able to really talk with her these last few times he tried. She’d always been busy and he could never seem to catch her at the right time. It was really quite upsetting. They’d been so close growing up together. They’d shared dreams and aspirations, they’d even written down a promise to each other that when they were both great mages they would rebuild Orlem into a better place, not just for mages but for the mundanes too.
Now she and Mar lived in different worlds. She was a mage, one of the best in her year at the academy. Mar was just a bookkeeper. The closest he got to the world of magic was through books written by long dead magi.
Mar left the academy grounds and stepped onto the floating paths, which were much like the platforms that the library used to reach high bookshelves, except these moved across the city along common paths. They were essentially a cobblestone road that moved on it’s own, carrying people and things on it. They moved about five times faster than a human on foot. It was a very helpful tool in a city as big as Orlem. It meant even Mar, who lived on the other side of the city, could transverse the distance at the speed of a galloping horse.
Most days Mar would walk around with the floating paths, letting his feet carry him to his destination slightly faster than simply waiting for the magic to carry him there, but today Mar’s body ached too much. He sat down on the rough surface of the floating cobblestone, gazing through the cracks at the city below.
Orlem was beautiful at night. This portion of the city was full of either mages, wealthy merchants, or very successful tradesmen. All of them could afford some kind of illumination at night so this whole region was bright with light. Buildings towered high into the sky, many of them elaborate in design. Earth mages building here were creative with their architecture, though they all had a soft spot for tall spires that pierced the clouds. Even the poorer buildings were decorated with bright paints, many of them were so vibrant in color it was tiresome on the eyes. The mage neighborhoods in particular were unique as every homeowner tried to make their house slightly more impressive than those beside them.
As Mar left the neighborhoods and city blocks that were frequented by mages, the subpaths started disappearing, until the only one left was the main thoroughfare to the eastern gates. Why would the mages bother the Realmstone with building and maintaining a path to the slums? They’d certainly never get any use from them, and it helped keep the riff-raff off their magic roads.
Mar got off at the closest exit to his rented apartment. Walking straight there he would be home in about fifteen minutes, though in reality the chaotic building plan of this area of the city meant it could take nearly an hour, depending on whether or not he was able to cut through various markets and buildings.
Mar tried to straighten his injured leg and hide his limp as he walked. He didn’t want to look like easy prey for pickpockets and thieves. Mar had learned how to survive in the slums the hard way after he moved there from the ritzy neighborhoods around Orlem’s School of Magic.
Nearly home, Mar decided to cut through Dirtflea market, which was every bit as poor and downtrodden as the name implied. Even at this late hour there were still some enterprising people selling their wares. Mostly food vendors who were selling potatoes and onions too small or deformed for the wealthier markets. Around him, Mar could hear the familiar sounds of haggling and the clinking of copper coins. Obviously stolen goods were being sold at every corner, and the thieves selling them made little effort to disguise their trade.
“A golden goblet. Don’t tell me, family heirloom?” a rough looking peddler asked a shady looking thug with a knowing grin.
“Eh, fell off the back of a wagon.” The thug replied, returning the grin.
Crime couldn’t be completely eradicated, even in Orlem, but it could be controlled. The city had it’s own token guard force, but any time serious military power was required the mage families would send in their personally armed and equipped personnel to grind any unfavorable criminal organizations into dust.
“Get your knives! Everyone needs a good knife! The stabby kind, the slicy kind, the staby and slicy kind, I’ve got ‘em all!”
“Used clothes here! Little to no blood on them!”
“Don’t have the paperwork to purchase Pyrastern mana stones? No problem! Just borrow them from me! Permanently!”
Mar blocked out the noise of all the various peddlers and tradesmen hawking their wares. Gaunt, malnourished faces abounded. Children ran through the streets. It was hard to tell if they were playing games or stealing purses, but it was probably some combination of the two.
Mar gently wormed his way through the crowd while keeping one hand firmly covering his coin pouch. Not that he had much in it. He scanned the crowd, his eyes catching briefly on an unusually dressed young woman. She appeared to be clothed in interwoven leaves and plant fibers. She had a concerned look about her, as if being around so many people was unusual. She caught Mar staring at her and met his eyes briefly. Mar broke eye contact but out of the corner of his eyes he could tell that the strange young woman was looking straight at him.
Mar continued walking when he noticed the leaf-clad young woman was heading right for him. Now that he’d gotten a second look, he realized she was a beastkin. It was unusual to find such individuals away from their clans. The way she was dressed she could be one of those tree-worshiping druids.
Mar ducked his head low. Being below-average height was useful sometimes. It meant he could hide well in a crowd.
He was nearly out of the market when he saw that the girl had cut ahead of him and was blocking the exit that lead to his apartment building. Briefly, Mar considered walking all the way around and exiting on the other side, but that would double the time it would take him to get home.
Wait, why was he so afraid of some woman? She was far too shoddily dressed to be affiliated with any of the major families. The odds of this woman being connected to Darrik in any way were slim.
Mar decided to just walk by her. He was probably just being paranoid, thinking she was looking for him. He didn’t think he’d run afoul of any criminal organizations.looked up at her.
Mar walked right up to her. She was still standing in the center of the narrow exit from the market, clogging the way. “Excuse me.” It came out harsher than he intended, his foul mood poisoning the words.
The woman ignored him like he wasn’t even there. She swiveled her head around, as if looking for someone. Mar tried to walk around her, but the path was very narrow and he knew he couldn’t get around her unless she moved out of the way.
“Excuse me!” Mar repeated, trying to catch her attention. He got a chance to get a closer look at her garment. From the handwoven clothing made of leaves and grass to the wooden trinkets and tattoos that adorned her it was obvious anyone could tell at a glance that she was a druid. Odd, since druids were a reclusive type of magic user, rarely found in Orlem. She likely wasn’t out of her twenties, and could be as young as Mar himself, assuming she hadn’t manipulated her age with magic. Most apparent though were her cat-like ears and eyes. She was definitely a beastkin, as druids often were. Human looking for the most part, but on the inside, they thought like a wild animal.
“Oh! You were talking to me.” The beastkin said with surprise. “How can I help you?”
“I need to pass through. If you could just move out of the way.”
The cat-eared woman nodded along attentively, but didn’t move an inch.
“Just, a bit to the side…” Mar gestured at her with his hand.
“Oh! You mean I should move!” The girl said in the exact same tone. She stepped out of the way and swept her arms in an arc in the direction Mar was going, as if pointing the way.
“Thank you.” Mar said. Damn druids. They spend too much time with plants to remember human social conventions and gestures.
It took Mar a few seconds to realize that the druid was following him. He kept walking. Maybe she was just going in the same direction.
He took the long route back to his apartment. He made two right turns, and then two left turns. Still she was right behind him. It’s not like she was even trying to be sneaky about it, she was no more than a dozen paces behind him the whole time. Anyone watching probably thought they were walking together.
Reaching the door to his apartment, Mar had finally had enough. He’d dealt with enough crap today.
“Can I help you?” He demanded of the beastkin.
The girl’s eyebrows rose in surprise, as if she never expected him to turn around and notice her.
“I think… Yes. I think you can.”
Mar’s expression mirrored her own initial surprise.
“With… what…?” Mar asked slowly.
“I had a dream about you last night. A vision.”
Mar glanced at the woman, eyebrow raised.
“I… I think you’re the one. I think my search is over, at last. May the Divine Priestess be praised.”
“I think you have the wrong person.” Mar started turning away.
“Wait! I’ve been looking for someone. A young man. He should be about your age.” The beastkin continued.
Mar turned back to the druid. “Orlem is a big city. You’re going to have to be more specific.”
“Right. I expect he’d be well known. A hero probably, mostly likely adored by everyone he meets. A mage of great power, and a genius of magic.”
Mar blinked. “Well you’re in the wrong part of the city for that. Head up to Overhill square, then—”
“No! I’m certain this is the place. The Divine Priestesses visions tell me so! I’m… it’s you. It has to be you. I’ve been searching for so long.”
Ah. So that’s what this was.
Mar rolled his eyes. “Let me guess, you’re here to give me some object of vast power and responsibility?”
It was the beastkin’s turn to blink. “Y-yes. How did you know?”
“Oh, I’ve seen the whole sham before. First you convince me that I have some sort of secret gift or that I’m the heir to a long lost kingdom. You get me to sell off all my worldly possessions and run off on some adventure with you. Then, soon as we’re out of sight of the city, your friends pop out of the bushes and hit me on the back of the head with a rock. You and your pals run off with all my wealth and worldly possessions, meanwhile I’m left naked and starving on the side of the road to get picked up by slavers or something. No thanks. I’ve heard of this scheme before.”
“That sounds horrible! What kind of person would do such a thing!?”
Mar snorted. He reached the door to his apartment complex. He checked his pocket for his key but realized the building was completely unlocked. He still pulled the key out though so that he could open the door that lead to his tiny room.
“Okay, I’m not certain on the other stuff, but the young man I’m looking for is a genius of magic. Well, a genius of many things but particularly of magic!”
Mar sighed and shook his head. “The only genius of magic I know is Verona, and she’s a girl I thin—”
“Oh, that name! I recognize it! The Divine Priestess gave me that name in a vision. I was told the man I’m looking for was at one point the… what’s the Remian word? Male companion?”
“Fiancé?” Mar supplied.
“Hmm. Maybe. Yes, that would make him the fiancé of the sorceress named Verona! You must take me to her. She will know the one I’m looking for.”