The afternoon had progressed considerably by the time the Nightsabers grew bored of casting Aard, their practice target having tumbled into the underbrush more than a few times as each Witcher hopeful stepped up to try their hand. Some took to the Sign more or less straight away, like Frederick, while others still needed pointers from Dirk before, after several failures, they'd finally succeed and knock the target over.
Meanwhile, Njall had moved to the edge of the clearing, settling down against one of the trees, unhooking his drinking horn from his belt and filling it from a flask he carried. Over time, the Skelliger slowly drifted into a daze, downing his drink, his eyelids drooping closed as the full heat of the afternoon hit him.
Frederick, on the other hand, stood to one side, watching his friends with mild amusement. He didn't need to try again. His first display of arcane skill was more than enough. Instead, he stood by one of the trees, palm pressed against the rough bark. His other hand reached up to his medallion, fingers tracing the outline of the snarling cat's head. The medallion thrummed under his touch, vibrating violently. When he caressed it, the young adept felt his connection to the magic of the world grow stronger, as though he were donning a pair of Master Travis' reading spectacles. The world around him pulsed with colour, power bleeding through the barriers of nature to glow around every leaf, every blade of grass, every insect coursing through the air on some nonsense mission or another. Deep beneath the ground, he could hear a faint roar, a howling of something cascading through the bones of the earth. Instinctively, he knew what it was. Just as the faint trails of magic the Witchers brushed at with their minds could be compared to streams or rivers, so too there had to be an ocean, a roaring, turbulent sea into which all other courses did flow.
He'd seen it, once before. Back in the days following the accident, when his body had lain as if dead in some alchemist's cot, his mind had been cast loose, caught up in the eddies of the spell he had tried to cast. His soul had drifted far in those days, swept along on the magical current until he was unceremoniously flung into that deep, sunless sea, impossibly far beneath the skin of the world. He'd burned, his heart, mind and soul scorched by magical fire, an invisible throat screaming for release as every thought, every emotion, every momentary instinct, was pulled apart and crushed back together by the wild arcane currents over and over again. And then, with sharp suddenness that was almost as bad as the torment, he'd been pulled back to his body, some Witcher's work bringing him back to the realm of the living. The correct feeling to instinctively experience after that was gratitude, and yet... he couldn't help but feel more than a little resentment at having the grand, vast ocean of power so mercilessly whisked away. The glimmering token between his fingers offered a small route back to that power, a morsel from a banquet, but Frederick couldn't help but hunger for more. He stared at the medallion, hearing the sound of waves coming from beyond it.
"Okay!"
Dirk's sudden shout, accompanied by the slap of his hands coming together, wrenched Frederick from his thoughts, reality slamming into him with brutal force. He turned to see the Witcher standing next to 'Bob', the dummy now much the worse for wear, an arm snapped off, its canvas body in disarray. The Witcher surveyed his students, taking in the circle of panting, red-faced adepts.
"You feel that?" He asked. "The burn in your muscles, the beating of your heart, the rush of blood through your skull? I bet you all feel as though you've just been running drills with Bastian! This is what it feels like when you cast many Signs, one after the other. Be careful not to exhaust yourself while in combat, otherwise you'll end up leaving yourself defenceless. Now! Let's finish off our class with something a little more... exciting."
The Witcher dropped into a crouch, once again tracing a symbol in the dirt. This time, it was a simpler triangle than the one for Aard, no line crossing it. Again, the point was directed away from him.
"Igni." Dirk explained. "I'm sure you've heard of this one. Raw Elemental Fire, channelled to obey a Witcher's command. The Sign has many practical uses, but the most common by far is to attack. Casting the Sign has its challenges, as Fire can be difficult to control, but once it is mastered, the Sign can be a formidable weapon.
"To channel the power of fire, you need to channel the correct emotions. Think about Fire. What do you think it is?"
"Hunger." One of the students muttered.
"Destruction." Another added.
"Passion." A third voice chimed in.
"Rage." Darren, staring at the symbol in the ground, did not look up as he spoke.
"Very good." Dirk commended. "All aspects of Elemental Fire. Let's focus on this last two, passion and rage, or anger."
The Witcher continued pacing, his hand gestures underlining every word.
"Our emotions are the easiest way for us to tap into the elements, and Fire is no exception. Passion, that simmering heat that lurks within us whenever we indulge in our vices, spend time with a beautiful partner, or when we feel motivated for a cause, and anger, be it the burning frustration of desires denied, the scorching blaze of rage, or the inferno of battle fury. By far the easiest to tap into is anger, as this can so often rise up in our hearts with little effort, but it is also risky, all too easy to lose control of. Passion, on the other hand, is rarer, but more controlled, and potentially more powerful. Essentially you're choosing between the bright, fast-burning flames, or the longer-lasting, less intense ones."
He paused, raising a hand to face palm-upwards before himself. His thumb, index and middle finger curled together.
"Focus your emotions just right, and you can summon forth fire, just like this!"
He snapped his fingers, the tip of his middle finger striking the fleshy part of his palm with a loud thwack. As it did so, the Witcher's eyes flashed, a golden light blazing in the centre of his gaze for just a second. It faded, and a new light surged into existence, hovering just above his hand. A tiny flame, about the size of a grape, floated in the air before the Witcher, dancing on the breeze. Dirk moved his hand, the flame moving with it.
"Getting the kind of focus and control for small, concentrated displays like this can be challenging. You'll find your first few casts to be large, messy, wild. But eventually you'll get to this point."
He waved his hand, the flame vanishing in a wink.
"So let's get to casting!" Rubbing his hands together, the Witcher moved to the far side of the clearing, where the rotten stump of a fallen tree waited. "This will be our target. Try not to miss. I don't imagine Grandmaster Treysse would be too impressed if we burned down his forest!
"I'll split you into two groups, a half dozen in each. Igni can be a difficult one to cast your first time, so I want you all to work together on this. Reach out into the magic around us, and try to understand how your friends are tapping into it. Observe how it flows around them, ripples back and forth between each of you. Learn the way it weaves connection between each and every one of you, and tap into that connection. Together, your power will feed off one another, and grow stronger. You will be more powerful than you ever could be working alone."
Dirk dropped to his knees, finding a stick in the dirt. He snapped it, exposing a sharpened end, then began running it across the rotten bark of the tree stump, tracing the symbol of Igni before moving to the trunk of the fallen tree, lying half-submerged in the dirt, and doing the same again. Soon enough, the Nightsabers had two targets to focus on. He stood, turning to face his students.
"That anger that I had you summon before, for Aard? That will serve as the fuel you use for this Sign. Like I said, anger and rage are the easiest emotions to use as the spark to ignite your cast, a flashpoint to set the energy ablaze." He flung the stick aside, dusting his hands off. "Just like with Aard, trace the Sign with your off-hand, pouring all of your energy into the symbol. Pull it back towards your body, build up the tension, then release, along with the command word. Again, position your feet to give you the most stability, allowing you to push the power into the Sign. Move the same foot as your casting hand, and keep the whole motion fluid. As you'll be co-operating to cast this, you need to synchronise your movements with the rest of your group. You have to be completely in tune with one another. So! Let's go. First group!"
Half of the Nightsabers stepped forward at Dirk's command, the Witcher pointing each of them out. In moments, Cyrus, Ida, Colin, Merinea, Ragodar and Morold had been summoned forth, forming a line in the centre of the clearing. A little prodding from the Master, and they were in formation.
"Okay, good!" Dirk moved off to one side. "Together now! Raise your hands, draw the Sign, pull it back, and..."
The first group of Nightsabers followed Dirk's instructions, obediently drawing the symbol, their hands moving in unison. As they did so, each one drawing in a long, deep breath, Frederick sensed the energy swirling around them. The newfound presence in his mind trembled as the six adepts all tensed, summoning vast waves of power to their side. An electric thrill surged through the air, and Frederick sensed his pulse beginning to race, heat swelling in his muscles. His breath caught in his throat, tension rising in his gut as he felt the energy, longing to escape into the world. Finally, just as the young mage's apprentice thought he couldn't stand the sensation any longer, the six adepts thrust their hands forward with a powerful cry.
"IGNI!"
The air crackled, a faintly glowing line thrusting forth from the outstretched palms, shafts of primal essence leaping through the air to mingle in a focused column, striking the mark Dirk had placed on the tree stump. The symbol the Witcher had created glowed, first a dull red, then orange, yellow, and finally white. Wisps of smoke rose from the damp, rotten wood, until finally the bark popped audibly, tiny fingers of flame licking out from under the surface. A bright flash announced the birth of a powerful, intense blaze. In a moment, the entire stump had been consumed, a fierce inferno. The students relaxed, lowering their arms, and the energy dissipated, the scent of burning wood and smoke drifting through the air. Dirk stepped forward, inspecting the newborn fire with a nod of his head.
"Not bad, not bad! A little slow, but we can work on that." He kicked a piece of shattered bark, faint embers glowing around its edges, back into the blaze. "You show good promise. Already working together well, co-ordinated, precise. Keep practicing, and you'll be a formidable force to deal with."
Dirk spun, moving away from the fire. He glanced to the rest of the Nightsabers.
"Second group, step up! Let's see how you can work together."
Frederick moved up with the rest of the students, finding himself between the two brothers from Velen, Otto and Fordalt. Beside them, Hilda, Darren and Krenai also stepped up. Dirk paced before them, hands folded before his stomach. He paused, turning to look at his students. His gaze met with Frederick's, lingering just a moment.
"Remember, use that anger I helped you find before. Grasp hold of that heat, that glowing heart of energy, and direct it. Take that heat and make it flow from your hand, out through the symbol and into your target."
Once again, the Witcher moved aside, allowing the students a clear view of their target, the fallen tree trunk next to the now-burning stump.
Frederick sighed, releasing all of his tension in one long breath. His eyes narrowed, glaring at the symbol scratched into the bark. Pausing, he breathed in, then out, then in again, each long breath helping still his mind, allowing him to further bond with the power lurking in his mind. His fingers tingled with anticipation, the energy of the land flowing into every corner of his being. He glanced to either side, locking his gaze with each of his Nightsaber comrades. With a nod, each one confirmed their readiness.
The world grew still as Frederick turned his attention back to the target, raising his hand along with his friends. The energy in his heart rushed to his fingers as he traced the symbol, an image of the Sign appearing in his mind's eye. The symbol glowed brightly, almost blinding before him. As the energy surged through him, he felt the power within his centre reach out towards the other adepts, connecting with them as they reached out to him. The combined reserves of the Nightsabers mixed, the power brewing with increasing potency. The students pulled their hands back, six glowing stars of arcane power pulled back towards the cores of each adept. Connected to the growing Sign, Frederick felt the power flowing into the symbols, pulsing with every movement of the adepts. Tension rose in his muscles again, anticipation at the release of the energy building in his soul. His legs began to tremble, his clenched fist shaking. Finally, the power had built up enough, and the Nightsabers lunged forwards, feet stamping the earth as hands darted forward.
"IGNI!"
The Sign in Frederick's mind flared, blindingly bright, and darted away, joining with those from the other students.
The Sign roared across the clearing, slamming into the target with brutal force. The symbol flared, glowing for just a blink as the damp wood resisted, but the hesitance only lasted half an instant before the wood burst into flame, a brilliant blaze that consumed it instantly, reducing the entire trunk to ash in seconds. Moments later, the tree trunk collapsed, the flames consuming it entirely. Soon enough, only smoke remained.
Nodding in approval, Dirk stepped forward once more.
"Excellent!" He grunted. "Good flow, nice emphasis on the command word, and perfect synchronisation! A most powerful cast."
He stepped up to stand in the midst of his students, looking to both groups.
"Igni is a powerful Sign. It channels raw Fire. In the wrong hands, it can be devastating. Always remember that when casting. If you let it get out of hand, it will burn you. There are many magic users who carry the scars of misusing the power."
The students were silent for a long, uncomfortable moment. Finally, the dark instant passed, a smile spreading across Dirk's expression.
"But enough of that!" He clapped his hands together. "No need to darken this day with such worries. You have all done very well, and shown great potential in your Signcasting. Let's call it a day there, and head back to the castle. Let's see if there's a fresh keg of ale waiting for us in the tavern." He paused, turning to Njall. "What do you say, Njall?"
The Skelliger jolted awake, a grunt escaping his throat as he opened his eyes. His brows rose inquisitively as he glanced to the Wolf School Witcher.
"I'm pretty sure I heard you mention ale."
Dirk chuckled at the Skelliger's mumbled words.
"Priorities in line as always!" He shook his head, before turning to lead the class out of the clearing with a twitch of his head. "Come on. Let's go."
~o~0~o~
The sun was setting, turning the sky a burnt orange, the air in the clearing slowly cooling.
Frederick had returned, several hours after the Nightsabers had left. He couldn't help it. Even as his friends settled down in the tavern with mugs of cool ale and the odd glass of red wine, the young adept had found himself distracted, unable to take his mind away from the place, the energy, the power. He had to come back.
To one side, the smoking remnants of the fallen tree still glowed with raw heat, the scent of ash filling the air. Frederick walked into the middle of the clearing, his medallion jumping against his chest. Beneath his feet, the power of the circle roared.
"I thought I would find you here."
Dirk's voice made the young adept jump, spinning to face the Witcher. The Master leaned against one of the trees at the edge of the clearing, a small smile on his face.
"I've seen the same look that's on your face before, in the eyes of new adepts, just after they've had the veil lifted from their eyes and they see the truth of the arcane world. It's intoxicating, isn't it? The magical energy of a Place of Power like this." He stalked over to the adept, head bowed in thought. "It can be addictive, coming out here to drink from the source. But also dangerous. The energy can affect your mind, just like a bag full of Fisstech."
"I've felt something like this before." Frederick stretched his arms out, palms down, feeling the aura reach back towards him, surging up through his arms. "Similar, but bigger. Much bigger."
"You grew up with a Mage, yes?" Dirk nodded. "Not surprising that you've been exposed to magical energies before."
Frederick's lip curled at the comment. 'Exposed' was one word for it, certainly. He suppressed an amused chuckle. Dirk's brow twitched at that, but the Witcher did not press his student for an explanation. Instead, he went back to pacing, tracing a circle around Frederick.
"The school has need of someone with your talents, adept. We have a task for anyone with magical potential. Interested?"
Frederick paused, glancing carefully at the Master. The Witcher's vague words concerned him, but he couldn't deny his curiosity. There was only one way to learn more.
"Say I was interested..." The adept began cautiously. "What would you need from me?"
Dirk smiled grimly, nodding.
"Good man. Meet me and Master Vreni tomorrow, after sundown. Bring your friends, the lass from Skellige and that child of destiny. We're going to need a lot of power."
"What are we going to do?" Frederick asked.
"Something amazing." Dirk grinned. "Something stupid, and something undeniably dangerous. I can say no more, until tomorrow."
The Witcher turned, leaving the clearing. Behind him, Frederick waited just a moment longer, hand reaching up to his medallion, lips pursed in thought. Finally, with a sigh, he left, heading back in the direction of the castle.
The clearing was silent for just a moment more. Then, unseen by the Witchers, something else moved, just beyond the far edge of the clearing. Hazel eyes blinked, and a slight figure shifted, vanishing deeper into the forest.
