Griffin Driscol was the most promising apprentice Sorcerer in all of the Land of the Lakes, the central province, probably in all of the provinces. He had met the Archmage of the Land of Lakes, the leader of the province, on several occasions, dined with the Hierarcha, the elected body of the province, mastered spells most people his age, a stupefying eighteen, never even heard of and was eligible to become a sorcerer before his twenty-first birthday.
Yet he still couldn't wake up on time.
"You know," he heard his master say from the doorway. "When you become a Sorcerer, you won't have me to wake you."
Griffin groaned loudly. "What time is it, Caine?"
"About half an hour before we are supposed to be at Hierarcha Seat for that meeting," he said casually, as if he were talking about the taste of water, while fumbling with his vest.
"What?" Griffin shouted as he jolted out of bed, his black hair a mess. He still had on his nightgown. He quickly yanked it off, as he scrambled around his filthy room, looking for his Sorcerer suit, listening to Caine laugh.
Caine Bristow was Griffin's master, a jokester and the youngest member Hierarcha, at twenty five. While he could be serious, dress up and make a good impression, he would rather wear a shirt and shorts and live life. Unfortunately, making money, gaining power and raising a family did not allow that.
Griffin came to the Bristow house when he was sixteen, when all apprentices leave their old master and family for their final training. He had already Memorized many spells, meaning he no longer had to say them aloud to make them work. He was fluent in Latin, the language of Sorcery. Caine was amazed at his apprentice's progress and immediately set to teaching Griffin advanced magic, magic that no one had ever been able to Memorize. Even though he never said so, he felt that Griffin had the ability to become the next Archmage.
Although, watching Griffin struggle to put together his Sorcerer suit, a suit with long coattails and gold buttons and swirling designs, he allowed himself a chuckle and doubted his assumption.
"My hat!" Griffin cried. He was frantically looking around, with his hair still disheveled and his collar half upturned. "Where's my hat?" All Sorcerers have a three point hat that distinguishes there rank, apprentice, Sorcerer, Archsorcerer, Hierarcha or Archmage. With each rank, the hat grows more ornate and woven.
"Where did you have it last?" Caine asked, stepping into the battle ground of a room.
"I dunno," Griffin said. "I…I think I had it after the dinner with your friends last night, then you went in to tuck in Tristan and I took it off…" Griffin trailed off as his master's face grew angry.
Tristan was Caine's three year old son, whom he loves very much and needs his sleep. He is also a very light sleeper. One sound in his room and he is up, like he heard a herd of elephants.
"Do you think you could magick it out of there?" Caine asks, trying to keep his voice level.
Griffin nodded eagerly. "No problem."
"Let's hope so," Caine said, letting the anger seep in his voice. Again, Griffin hung his head in shame. Griffin felt Tristan was as much his responsibility as Caine's. He would watch Tristan whenever Caine and his wife, Angela wanted a night for themselves. He helped care for him and got up in the middle of the night to soothe him back to sleep.
Quietly, the pair crept to baby Tristan's room. Opening the door as silent as a mouse, they poked their heads in and looked around. Poking his master in the shoulder, Griffin pointed to his hat lying near the chair that Caine rocked his child to sleep every night. Griffin suddenly remembered taking his hat of, tired from the last nights festivities and must have let it slip through his fingers unconsciously.
He smiled as he remembered last night. It was a fun dinner actually. Most dinners that are with the Hierarcha and the Archmage are interesting and all, but they have special rules and dictations. Laugh when appropriate, be formal and not silly, make small talk, save business for after dinner, address everyone by title, don't do this, don't do that, do this only here, here and here. It was like patting your head, rubbing your tummy, while jumping up and done on one foot, counting in Latin backwards from one hundred and crossing your eyes all at the same time. It didn't flow.
This party was different. It was at a nice family restaurant, sitting outside with the sun setting over Lake Michigan and Huron. He had been invited to join Caine and Angela, along with some of their friends and apprentices for a dinner for no-reason-let's-just-have-fun. Caine and his friends sat down at one table and the apprentices sat another. They could all hear their Masters laughing and talking like, well, like they were old friends, which they were… The apprentices sat in uncomfortable silence, no one wishing to break the ice. Finally Griffin, sick of the quiet, said, "I'm Griffin Driscol, apprentice to Caine Bristow." Everyone politely nodded and said "Hello" and they were all introducing themselves, relaxing a bit. Another apprentice, Sarai, told everyone of a time she accidently confused the word unda, wave, unde, from there, and ended up with a shark that almost bit her instead of a wave of water. All the apprentices laughed, because they could all relate. The rest of the night followed the same path, exchanging funny stories and moments, confusing a word, underestimating the power of a spell and ending up with a near deathly accident. At first it was terrifying, Griffin had plenty of those, but afterwards they make great stories to tell. He had a really good one where he accidently said Listen to dog, instead of Listen to me fire and his master was mauled by dogs as he tried to leave one afternoon and all the dogs rushed upstairs and tried to lick Griffin to death before Caine sent them home,
The evening was going great until one of the apprentices, he said he was Drake Romanno, apprentice to a Hierarcha, asked Griffin a question. They had been laughing at a time when some accidently burnt down a house and their master came home to see his house a pile of ash, when all of a sudden Drake, a curly black haired kid with green eyes and a scar on the left side of his face, who had been quiet all night, asked, "Griffin, I've heard you are really talented in magic. What makes you so special? What makes you different from us?"
Griffin was drinking water from a crystal glass and the question had caught him so off guard, he nearly choked and water dribbled through his lips.
"Come again?" he asked, after he cleared his throat.
"What makes you better than us Griffin?" Drake asked again, a cold smile playing on his lips. "I've heard so much about you, how great and talented you are, I was wondering what put you up there."
"Oh, come off it Drake," another apprentice said. "Griffin isn't better than all of us. He was just born naturally talented. We all have our skills and Griffin's happens to be magic."
"Really," Drake said, mocking contemplation, pretending to stoke a beard he did not have. "Well, I'd hear like what the man has to say himself.
Griffin fumbled around with the napkin on his lap, trying to stall time. He had never been a good public speaker and was a laughing stock at impromptu speaking. A rock would be better at it than him. And, even if he was a good speaker, he didn't know how he became so good at magic or why he was. His gift had been discovered when he was three and made a little flower grow to the size of puppy when he talked to it in Latin.
"Well," Griffin said, trying to conceal his knocking knees, "when I was s-small, I made a plant gr-grow the size of a p-puppy. I was th-three then."
"Yes, fascinating," Drake said not at all trying to conceal the sarcasm in his voice, the idiotic, arrogant grin still on his face.
I really hate this kid, Griffin thought, the grin plastered in his mind, being the coal for his anger. I really hate him.
"Well, Drake," Griffin said, making sure all the apprentices eye's were upon him suddenly feeling extraordinarily brave. "I don't know about you, but I have Memorized the Love spell, you know Face haec femina amat hoc virum? The Archmage himself told me he had trouble with it still."
The silly, and slightly scary, grin dropped from Drake's face like a lump of lead while everyone else at the table stared in awe at Griffin. The look on his face told him he had never heard of this spell or seen it, but his knowledge of Latin allowed him to translate it.
"Well then, why don't you prove it?" Drake hissed his voice somewhat reminiscent of a snake's.
"As you wish," Griffin said mockingly. All the apprentices watched Griffin with apprehension, seeing if he dared. It was very impolite to use magic this way, almost considered taboo, but that did not make it any less entertaining.
A waitress was walking boy, carrying nothing. Griffin focused upon the spell and looked at the women. Suddenly, she turned and ran to Drake and knelt before him and began to profess her love.
"Oh darling, Drake," she said fawning over him. "I've missed you, have you missed me? Oh, your hair is so lovely to touch," she said, stroking his hair. "Please, come to me, oh my dove. You are mine, aren't you? And who is this?" she suddenly cried angrily, her voice rising to a shriek, pointing to Sarai, who was sitting next to Drake and trying hard not to burst with laughter.
"You've been cheating on me, haven't you? She's your new girlfriend, isn't she? Don't lie, I can tell!" she cried, when Drake tried to speak. "Don't talk to me. If you promise you'll never leave me, I'll forgive you, sweetheart. Our love is too strong to be broken by some silly, ugly, little girl." Sarai suddenly couldn't control it and burst into laughter. The waitress frowned at Sarai and immediately turned back to Drake, her eye's all aglow. "Promise me you love me! DO IT!" the waitress cried, grabbing Drake's hands.
"But―but, what?" Drake cried out, confused. "You said don't talk…"
"What do you mean, dearie?" the waitress asked. Her ever smiling face frowned, broken and angry. "You don't love me? What did I do wrong? What are my faults?"
"Get away!" Drake shouted, pulling his hands from her. The waitress looked ready to cry. But Griffin was not ready to end it quite yet. A water cart was passing behind the waitress. Griffin willed her to…she did! The waitress grabbed a pitcher of water and poured over Drake's head and promptly turned on her heel and walked away. With a wave of his hand, Griffin remove the spell on the girl.
All the apprentices could not contain their laughter anymore and when they saw the drenched and soaked Drake they broke loose. The masters, two tables over, their interest piqued looked over. Caine immediately began to laugh, thinking it was a complete accident that an apprentice was soaked through with water. The masters resumed their eating, paying it no mind.
The rest of evening passed mostly uneventful. Everyone congratulated Griffin on a spell played, except Drake of course, quietly brooding over the events. They resumed eating and went on to deserts, telling another of spells gone wrong and funny spells they performed.
Late at night, close to eleven o'clock, the friends finally adjourned. Griffin saw Drake and his master begin to leave immediately, but not before Drake's master glared at him. He had dark, almost lifeless eyes that seemed fathoms deep. His skin was taut and pale, his hair white and limp. It terrified Griffin that he turned back toward Caine and Angela. As Drake walked past him, he made plenty to sure to crush his foot and ram into his shoulder. But he didn't whine. He didn't want to give Drake the satisfaction of paining him. His eyes began to water, however.
"Well, aren't you going to get it?" he heard Caine whisper in his ear. Griffin nodded. He held out his hand and focused on having the hat on his hand. Spells never worked unless you focused on the result. If you ever said a powerful spell, whose words never matched with your will, disastrous things would happen, such as death or being dissolved or simply disappearing. That's why it was so hard to Memorize powerful spells. You had to be able to know the words by heart and it was dangerous to rely upon them, in case you ever mispronounced or conjugated a verb wrong.
The hat slowly moved towards Griffin's hand. It was getting hard to focus on this for so long; the strain was too much for him. Caine saw his apprentice's anxiety and stepped into help him. Soon, the hat was securely in his hand. As Caine shut the door, it closed with a loud bang. Caine winced. Not because he knew his son would wake up, but because Angela would chew him out for slamming a door shut.
"Did I just hear a door slam?" she called from the kitchen, feigning ignorance.
"No," Caine and Griffin said, hoping she would believe it.
"Cause if a door did slam, and you're not telling me who did it, both of you will get it later," Angela replied threateningly.
"I think she actually means it this time," Griffin said laughing.
"I do mean it!" Angela shouted from downstairs. "I think a lovely hex to make your noses grow like a tree out to finish the job
Immediately, the pair ran downstairs, selling each other out.
"It was him I swear!" Griffin cried. "We had gone to Tristan's room to get something and he slammed the door, in Tristan's room! Can you believe it?"
"Well we wouldn't have had to go there if you hadn't dropped your hat in there!" Caine retaliated.
"Alright, satis, satis, enough," Angela said as she placed their breakfast before them on the wooden table. "Eat up you two, today's a busy day."
Angela looked at the grand clock in the hallway before the great double doors. "Don't you have to be at the Seat in fifteen minutes?" Angela asked as she looked at the clock. As she turned around, Caine and Griffin ran past her to the door shouting, "Thanks for the breakfast darling, it was great!" "Breakfast was great Mrs. Bristow!" Griffin yelled, adjusting his coat and hat.
"You barely ate anything!" Angela yelled as her husband and his apprentice left.
Angela allowed herself a chuckle as she watched them walk down the road. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say those two were brothers."