11th Day of Late Winter 768 n.c
Missus Rose was a larger, older woman, who cooked almost all of the food served at the Pig and Wheelbarrow Inn. Her cheeks were ruddy and her brown hair was tied up in a bun. She was still wearing her apron and carrying a large wicker basket.
"Sharein, my dear," she said loudly, which was somehow louder than her usual loud, "I had heard tell that you had started your apprenticeship here."
Malkarov appeared behind me and Missus Rose straightened a little at his presence, "Wizard Malkarov! Pumpkin soup, cheesy garlic rolls and two bottles of ale for lunch. I've got a whole pig roasting for dinner tonight with some vegetables and I'll be making pork pies for lunch tomorrow."
"Excelled Missus Rose, I'm sure you have outdone yourself once again!" Malkarov proclaimed, "That all sounds excellent. One small change however, is that tomorrow night I shall not require dinner. I think it shall be time to see if Sharein will be up to the task of challenging your exemplary record."
I blushed a little, Missus Rose was quite well known as the best cook in the whole of Easthaven, I didn't think that mine could even come close.
"Well now," Missus Rose said with a smile, a laugh and a wink at me, "If she is, mind, I might have to steal your apprentice from you."
"Now, now Missus Rose, that would be completely unfair of you," he replied as he pulled a small coin purse from his robes. He counted out four silver moons and a copper bit into one hand and placed the purse back into his robes. He paid Missus Rose and took the basket from her, which he then handed to me. He picked up another basket that I hadn't previously noticed, from behind a bookshelf, which he then handed to Missus Rose. With the exception of handing the first basket to me, the whole process seemed very well rehearsed. Malkarov wished Missus Rose a good day, stating that he was "looking forward to seeing her later," and we both went up the stairs to the third level to have lunch. I set the table while Malkarov unpacked the basket, out came a large clay pot from which he poured the soup into bowls that I set down. Next he pulled out two bread rolls wrapped in cloth which went onto small plates. Finally he pulled out two bottles of beer, that he poured into the mugs I put down. We sat down to eat one of the most delicious pumpkin soups I had ever eaten.
We were about halfway through, having eaten in silence, when Malkarov spoke up, "Tomorrow morning before lunch, I'll give you some money to go and buy what you need for dinner. I'll have you pick up our lunch from the Pig and Whistle directly, on your way back home."
I nodded, "Yes, mast..."
He arched one eyebrow at me and I took it as a rebuke, cutting off my words. I wondered what I should be calling him if I couldn't call him Master Malkarov. I was supposed to treat him like I would Father, but I would never ever call Father by his given name. Saying 'yes, Malkarov' just sounded so rude, as if he were my friend rather than my Master. I settled merely for casting down my eyes and eating my soup, trying to think of what sort of things I could make for dinner on the morrow.
After lunch was finished, and our plates and cutlery washed, dried and packed away; we headed upstairs to the fourth floor. Malkarov instructed me to sit down on the floor, which I did.
"The all-important first step when learning magic is the connection." He explained, "Spells require the connection to magic to work. If a person is not capable of forging that connection, they will never be able to use magic. For you, we don't have to worry about that. You have already proven that you can, by using the scroll to cast a light spell. Once you have created that connection to magic, you will begin to recognise it and soon enough you will be able to create that connection at any time. But, how does one create that connection in the first place if they have no idea what they are looking for?"
I nodded as the question seemed rhetorical, because I had no idea how to create that first connection.
"The best way," Malkarov continued, "is to only cast spells that require the magical phrase. These phrases contain a little spark of magic all of their own. A staff is merely a conduit for magic to affect the outside world, material components are the wood for the fire so to speak. But the words, the words are the door to opening yourself up as the connection to magic. And that spark of magic contained in the words, that's the spark that sets the fire alight."
I nodded along, his description seemed to make sense to me.
Malkarov went to the large cupboard and pulled down a small jar. The label, I noticed, read Firefly wings. He put his hand into the jar and pulled out a couple of clear, papery wings. He gave one to me and kept one for himself.
"Before attempting a spell, ensure that you are always holding the material components, ensure you are holding your staff if the spell requires it," Malkarov instructed.
"But…" I began, but Malkarov answered my question before I could even ask it.
"You don't have a staff," he answered, "Yes, for the time being we shall concentrate on spells that don't require it but soon we shall make a journey to find your staff."
"A journey to find my staff?" I asked, confused. He made it sound like my staff would be out there just waiting for me.
"In a manner of speaking," he clarified. "A wizard's staff is a very personal thing to them and is always made by the wizard who will use it. There are a series of runes and a special ritual that you will need to know to make it and as you learn more you will need to add to the runes on your staff to increase the power you are able to use."
Malkarov pulled down from a shelf a small crystal sphere, which he handed to me, "The light spell must be cast upon an object. That object will glow, in the same way my light crystals do. Often a wizard will use the spell to make his staff glow, but for the moment this crystal ball shall do. My crystals glow white because of my seeming, other seemings produce other colours. Fire will create a reddish light, water will create a bluish light and earth will create golden yellow light. For the moment though, repeat the words in your head. Over and over, but do not speak them aloud until you feel the spark of magic inside. Once you do, try to put the two together. The words and the spark."
Malkarov then told me the words of the spell. Just like the words on the scroll and the words I spoke at Shard's altar, they didn't make any sense to me. I repeated them over and over though, inside my head.
"Close your eyes," Malkarov whispered, and I did so.
The words repeated, over and over, but I couldn't feel any sort of spark inside me. Nothing. I'm not sure how long I was at it for, but eventually Malkarov instructed me to stop and open my eyes. The feeling disappointment settled onto me and I felt my eyes water a little.
"Don't fret, Sharein," he comforted. "It's very rare for anyone to get it the first time. It's about practice and the correct frame of mind to start with."
He held out his staff in one hand and his open hand containing a firefly wing in the other. I heard him speak the words he had given me with such a tone of authority that it was essentially a command. The end of his staff began to glow white and I watched as the firefly wing broke down into ash in his hand.
"Do the words need to be spoken in such a manner?" I asked.
"Oh, yes. Yes they do," he replied. "It's very important that you command the magic to come forth, rather than entreating or begging it. Why don't you give it another shot?"
I closed my eyes once more and repeated the words over and over once more. Each time I completed the phrase I felt a little tingle run down my spine and a flash behind my eyes. The more I repeated it, the stronger both felt. They were a little bit delayed, the flash was first and then moments later the physical sensation, but each time I repeated the phrase the two got closer and closer together. Soon they both occurred at the same time and when they did there was an answering feeling from deep inside of me. It was hard to describe, it was something like a flash of heat or even a flash of deep cold from deep inside my chest. I kept repeating the words, trying to push the feelings together. Trying to will the flash inside to move up my spine and up to the flash behind my eyes, trying to forge a link between the two. It felt… slippery. As much as I tried to push it towards the words, it was wanting to branch off down my arm. Malkarov said that I had to push the two together, so that's what I continued to attempt. It felt like pushing a boulder up a hill. All it wanted to do was to roll down my arm, but slowly, very slowly I forced it up. Eventually I managed to get the two together. I spoke the words out loud. I tried to put as much authority into the verbal command as I could. I felt the flashes inside me expand, explode and then nothing. I opened my eyes and looked down at my hands. With disappointment I noticed that the crystal ball was not glowing, nor had the wing been turned to ash.
"You felt it?" Malkarov asked me.
"Yes," I answered, "I felt the flash inside me and I pushed it up to the flash behind my eyes and spoke the words."
He frowned a little, "I could feel it. I felt the magic inside you as if you were casting the spell. Once we recognised the feel of magic inside of us, we begin to recognise the feel of magic around us and in others. With just the feel of it, I would have said that you had definitely cast the spell. Would you like to give it a try again?"
I nodded and closed my eyes once more. I repeated the words inside my head and much quicker than the previous time I felt the flash and the tingle. It only happened twice this time, before I felt the answering flash from inside me. It was just as hard to push up, but push I did. Eventually the two flashes merged together and I spoke the words again. Once more the flashes inside exploded inside me and dissipated. I opened my eyes hopefully and saw once more a hand that held a firefly wing and another that held a crystal globe that wasn't glowing. I sighed in disappointment. Instead of feeling resigned, I grew more determined. I let out a huff and closed my eyes once more.
This time, the flashes all occurred together the very first time I said the words. In frustration I pushed the flash as hard and quickly as I could. The resistance I had expected from the previous two times was not there. It happened so, so quickly. Before I could even do or think anything, the flash; instead of pushing 'up the hill' to meet the other flash behind my eyes shot down my arm to my hand. It made my whole arm tingly and cold as it travelled down.
Panic shot through me.
The flash travelled down to my hand where it ended with an explosive flash equal to the previous two times.
Then there was nothing.
AUTHORS LOG:
I'd apologise for the cliff hanger... but I don't want to.
:P
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