Chapter One
Practice

"Hey, Swift, how is this?" asked an armor-clad elf-mage as he thrust a blade out.

"Not so good, Wind. That's a longsword," Replied Swift, resisting the urge to laugh. He stepped over to Wind, showed him how to grip it, then watched the blade arc through the air and hit an imaginary opponent's head. "Better. The skill was good, but... You didn't harm the dummy. Watch," commanded Swift as he took his scimitar, adjusted his grip, and swung the sword to the side of the dummy. A rather large rip opened in the side of it, and sand poured out of it.

"Oh. That's how," meekly replied Wind. "Why can't I just blast it with a Magic Missile? It's easier. I mean, I've gotten way better since before I came here, and it's only been a week. I've hundreds of spells in my grimoire. Actually, I never heard of that term for a spell book before I got here," he said sheepishly.

"You can't cast that many spells yet, that's why. Once you're even better, they'll let you. For now, they'd make you contribute energy towards the repair of artifacts they've been finding. I heard that it makes you sick for a week." Swift laughed. "Arms Class is almost over. We'd better start putting up our weapons."

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"Ha! We get to cast spells at you today!" cried out Wind in triumph. "Lesson One: How to avoid a touch spell." He cackled in glee as he ran at Swift, encumbered in Full Plate. Wind grasped the edge of the armor as his green eyes glittered and glistened. The full plate that Swift wore took on a strange glow, and then rattled as magic lightning coursed through it. Swift took a sharp breath as he tried to extricate himself from Wind's grasp. He succeeded, and fell to the ground, panting and sweating.

"I see why you said it be easier to cast away the dummy instead of attack. But surely that takes a bit out of your energy too, right?" he asked as he tried to catch his breath. He coughed as Wind answered.

"A bit of energy. A lot for me, but the instructor is an expert: He can cast Time Stop. It was really strange, to see this blur, and then all this stuff moving. Freaked us out, it did. Quite scary," answered Wind nonchalantly. "Ah, I see that my spell worked well. Thank Boccob the teachers thought to teach us how you use wands that had spells we couldn't use. Lemme get a Cure Light Wounds wand."

"Yih. Get it fast. This hurts, like the time I ran into the wall..." Swift groaned at the memory. He had seen a girl: Quite pretty, in fact, and started to wave. He ran into one of the columns as a result. Then he groaned again. He hadn't spoken to many girls since. Not that many would listen.

"Here it is. One second," said Wind as he came back. He began to chant, an unchanging monotonous being made of words. "Let me heal he who received wounds in learning, O Wise One Boccob. Thy wisdom shows the way to health." As the words went on, one by one, Swift's wounds were gone and healed. "Hey, Swift. Heard the latest news from the decanter? Some girl was offered a place. Average, eh? What's weird is that her family won't let her go. Said her place is in the hearth and home, married and producing one child after another. Paraphrased, but yes. She's an elf, like me, only about...23, so almost fully grown."

"Wind, I thought that elves were grown by... I dunno, one hundred and fivty!"

"Nah, we just finally want to leave by the time we're about there."