Willow spent the rest of the ride that first day in abject misery and humiliation. She’d known that she wasn’t very good at spellwork; that it came harder to her than it should. The spellbooks her father had procured from his merchant contacts in far-off cities had spoken of advanced spells and concepts, but after years of effort she was still stuck on the very first practice spell. Yes, it was initially supposed to be hard to get your essence to move in response to your will, to imbue it with a concept for the first time—but it wasn’t supposed to be this hard.

Her spellwork primer hadn’t said how long it should take to learn the first spell, but Willow had naively assumed that even if she was a little behind, she’d be able to catch up with proper instruction at the Arcanum.

She had no idea how far behind she was. Until today.

The sun approached the horizon and the caravan rolled to a stop in a large meadow. Waist-high grass caught the caravan’s shadow like stripes of night in a golden thicket. The guard, who she learned was named Bryan, came around and told them to unload for the night.

They’d be sleeping under the stars.

After a whispered conversation between Bryan and Leopold, she heard the young man recite the spell concept again and the circled wagons illuminated with the blazing ball of essence. He lifted it high into the air, incanted a concept of steadfastness, and lowered his hands. The ball stayed hovering above them, casting bright yellow light on the still grass.

He wasn’t even at the Arcanum and he could already do concept addition. Willow was so fucked.

She laid out the provided bedroll in silence, smoothing it on the springy grass, and was surprised when Leopold laid his roll down nearby and walked over.

“Hey,” he said.

“Nice work,” she said, trying to affect a cheery tone but finding it about as hard as casting her own magelight.

“T-thanks,” he said, and she finally looked up into his face. He was nervous.

No, not nervous. Embarrassed.

“I can feel sorry all by myself, you know. You don’t need to join in.”

“Ah, um,” he said, glanced around, then sat down next to her bedroll on the trampled wild grass. The crushed, sticky shoots gave off the tangy smell of juniper.

And now Willow felt like an ass.

“Sorry, that’s not fair. It’s not your fault that I’m…”

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

“What,” he asked, leaning forward.

“So… bad at magic. Just so bad.”

“You’ll get better with time. I bet you can get your spell brighter by the end of the trip if you practice. How long have you been at it? A couple days?”

“No,” she said, and left it at that, the finality ringing like a bell.

They sat in silence for a moment, both looking at the hovering magelight, before he turned back to her again.

“What happened to you,” he blurted out, and she almost blushed in the gathering night. Then she laughed.

“I’ve never had someone ask. Everyone just knew back home. I got sick as a baby, I almost died. Afterwards, well…” she held out her arm and pushed the gathering cloth up to her elbow. Leopold gasped.

“You’re starving?”

“It’s not about how much I eat,” she said, and lowered her sleeve past her emaciated arm to her swollen wrist. “I have a healthy appetite, as I’m sure you’ll see. But I don’t gain weight. It doesn’t stop the pain.”

“Does it hurt a lot,” he asked, and she shrugged.

“All the time.”

The guard, Bryan, had been making the rounds in the magelight, and they looked up as he approached.

“I heard we’ve got two mages in this wagon,” he said, and smiled. He still had his armor on, and from the way the metal plates moved Willow could tell he was heavily muscled underneath. What little hair he had was dark and clipped short above his strong brow.

“Prospective mages,” Leopold said, and gestured up at the magelight. “I can only impart two concepts at the moment.”

“Well, don’t worry. I won’t ask you to defend the caravan. I’ve got that all taken care of,” Bryan said, and patted the sword at his hip with obvious glee.

Leopold shifted nervously. “What about when we get closer to Durum? I heard there’s a warbeast…”

“We’ll be using the warded tunnels,” Bryan said. “They start way out beyond the warbeast’s territory and keep us shielded and cloaked the whole way through. If not for them, the whole city would starve. You don’t have anything to worry about.”

Bryan looked down at Willow and she felt his eyes rake along her body. Her clothes were well-tailored, but there was only so much you could do to hide the effects of wasting.

“And how are you holding up? Have you found the wagon comfortable?”

“Comfortable enough,” Willow said, and gave a perfunctory smile.

“And sleeping on the ground, will that be alright for you? Or do you need to sleep in the wagon?”

“The ground is fine,” she said, but began to bristle. She had to remind herself that he didn’t know her; no one outside of Bridgewater did. They wouldn’t know that despite appearances she wasn’t entirely decrepit.

“Alright, well…,” he said and glanced around, then saw her cane propped up against the side of the wagon. He strode over and picked it up, then hesitated.

“What the hell,” he said as he hefted it. Willow couldn’t help but laugh.

“It’s just my cane.”

“It must weigh almost ten pounds,” he said, then swung it experimentally in the air. The cane made a wooshing sound as the end split the gathering mist.

“Solid iron,” he said, almost in awe, and handed it to Willow. “Why would you have a cane made out of solid iron?”

“My father thought it would help to strengthen my arms,” she said and shrugged. “Didn’t really work, but it seemed like a waste to get a new one.”

“Right,” he said with a note of doubt in his voice, then glanced further along the circle. “Well, you two stay in the circle of wagons during the night. No telling what’s out there in the grass. We’ll get the fire started in a jiffy and it’ll keep most things away until morning. And holler if you need anything.”

They thanked Bryan and he went on to converse with the next reclined passenger. Leopold glanced at Willow’s cane.

“May I?”

She handed it over and he hefted it similarly.

“Shit, it really is solid iron.”