The Sword and the Flame: The Forging
Despite her hunger and yearning, the fact that a simple, battered text book about plants made her feel powerful scared her enough that she began thinking about what they needed if they did help the fighter on his quest. Janessa reassured her several times since that she knew where the entrance to the tunnels was but Viola had her doubts. Everyone seemed intent on the fabled treasure, everyone except her and the other man that hung back from the fight until near the end. Though he said nothing about the treasure, she had no reason to trust either of them, and now she began to doubt Janessa.
Viola didn’t like the feeling her thoughts created so she decided to try her hand at finding the entrance and thought of a locator spell. From everything she read and heard at the school, the spell could help you locate anything from a lost button to an escape from a labyrinth. Best of all, the spell wasn’t complex, anyone could cast it. The only trouble was, she didn’t know any locator spells or where to find one aside from Mern.
There she was, a simple spell away from solving a major issue and she couldn’t decide on knocking or not. Convinced she was driving herself insane she turned from the door, she’d find another way. Much to her surprise it opened by the time she took her second step.
“Come child, time passes us too quickly to not take advantage of it.” Viola was uncertain if she heard Mern’s voice with her ears or in her mind. Either way she obeyed, stepping through the doorway. “Welcome child, I’m afraid it isn’t much but then I just arrived. How may I be of help to you?” Mern was seated by a small table with a candle illuminating a large spell book. Viola thought it strange that he used a candle when the sun was still high in the sky.
As though he read her mind about the candle, Mern smiled while nodding. “It’s an old habit. I spent many years of my youth studying in dungeons where the sun couldn’t hope to reach.” He shrugged, “There are times you must learn to appreciate peculiar oddities.”
Viola smiled, shaking her head. She understood about studying in those types of places, as they were common at the magic school. Though not one of her favorite places to study, she had to admit that dingy, dark dungeons did serve their purpose. “I appreciate all that helps me learn more of my craft.”
Mern’s smile took on an amused quality. “Very diplomatic of you child.” Chuckling, he shook his head. “Pay it no mind, I know how the young mind works.” He closed his spell book and motioned to Viola to sit in the other chair in the room. Of all of the places he stayed during his long life, that inn was the most comfortable.
Viola’s face flushed as she accepted his invite. “Thank you.” She felt embarrassed after attempting to sound like he wanted her to sound. “Be true to yourself and the magic will flow.” She remembered her school master telling her once and didn’t realize she’d spoken aloud until Mern nodded.
“A wise saying.” Mern paused a moment watching her. “Tell me, what do you think it means?”
What? Viola’s mind raced as she struggled to focus on his question. It was simple, yet she didn’t expect it as a rebuke for speaking. To have a question given because he wanted to hear her understanding of the phrase was unique. At first she was confused, Viola never thought about its meaning beyond being something Master Poumous used to help his pupils focus. She never thought it had any significant meaning before but she did what a student was expected to. Viola took the saying, examining it word by word before answering. “If you don’t lie about yourself the magic will be more focused?”
It was the best answer Viola could think of and it made sense to her. She couldn’t help but feel ignorant for taking so long to understand its meaning. Fighting off a sudden urge to apologize to Master Poumous for ever thinking ill of him, she forced those thoughts aside and watched her new master for his response.
To Viola’s delight, Mern smiled while nodding. “Very good, I see your school master has taught you well.” He sat back and watched her reaction, he was pleased to see her smile and stop acting as though she were someone else. Mern steeped his fingers as he thought through his options. The magic was powerful inside of her. Once she learned to control herself and let the magic flow from her there would be few in the world able to challenge her. That was why she’d been drawn to the herbology book. He enchanted it long ago to draw those like her to it. “You have enormous potential my dear, but I fear you don’t yet see the entire landscape.”
Viola’s smile faded somewhat, she was never told about her potential, only that she and the handful of other students had the same future available. The good feeling of the compliment was dulled by the strange critism. Mern’s thoughtful expression softened while he read her question through her facial contortions. “Whether it’s due to your teaching, or your own shortcomings, you see the world in black and white. You will learn to see it in all its colors, good and bad.” He paused motioning around him, “Around us are few absolutes, only the vaguest of ideas. In a world surrounding us with constant uncertainty, the one constant is our Art. Magic comes from inside us. We are the vessels of its passage. If we’re untrue to what we truly are then the magic hesitates to answer our call. You must pay attention and learn from everything you see and hear. Understand?”
Viola nodded, she learned a great deal in the last few minutes. Humility and wisdom seemed to go hand in hand. In just a few phrases Mern showed everything her school master told her had been important. With new understanding she nodded, “Yes master, everything has become clear.”
Mern smiled at her. He witnessed her mood go from highs to lows and back again like a bird in the wind. She needed to learn better control over her emotions, but that would come with added discipline. “What robes do you expect to wear once you’ve passed the trials?”
His question caught her by surprise, until then she never considered the thought. Apprentices, such as her, wore brown robes. Designed to build a strong work ethic and display to them their low level status as mages, the brown robes were both an insult and an inspiration. Few were content to remain a brown robe as the muddy color represented the skill and potential one was likely to achieve. Those choosing to remain a brown robe were either apprentices trying to find their path or the Chroniclers. The Chroniclers were mages with little ability but decided to remain with their chosen art as historians, mathematicians, or any other kind of book keeper the Masters of the Realm deemed necessary. Thus if any magic user had a question or dispute over spell components, magical feats, or who did what they only needed to inquire the Chroniclers within the Hall of Learning in Talanthia, city of magic.
While the brown robes were the lowest position in the realm of magic, the white and black robes were the opposites of magic as a whole. While both were the purest and the emptiest of color, they also represented both extremes in beliefs. White robed mages embodied good and purity of soul. Wishing to destroy the darkness of the world but unable to do so, as they could only cast the spells of goodness, being forbidden to cast any spells of darkness by Nirou, God of magic.
As their counterparts, the black robed mages wished to dominate the weaker of the two, which in their opinion was the white robes, but not to destroy them. Being able to cast far more sinister spells of destruction, decay, and fear instead of the “clean“ combat spells of magic the white robes used, left the black robes often trying to tempt their fellow mages with promises of power and glory instead of destroying them.
With one side wishing to study and use their magic to better the world and the other wishing to enslave it, Nirou achieved the balance of power he felt was needed to maintain the world. To better strengthen the balance he granted the ability for a majority of mages to use magic from both extremes, but not the most powerful of spells. His decision caused one of the greatest debates in history to start with no one able to claim victory.
The ability of the neutral mages to use both good and evil spells helped them to believe they are the most powerful. While the inability of the gray robes to cast the most powerful spells of both extremes seemed a disadvantage, in reality
, having access to the central spells as well as less powerful incantations of their opposite brethren gave them an edge. Despite that, the white and black robes each continued believing they were the most powerful magic users. Since the birth of the gray robes, the God Nirou guaranteed the balance will be maintained until the end of time. Being the neutral of the three guarantees up to eighty percent of all mages will wear the gray robes, being few have the conviction to be completely good or completely evil.
As such, the Wizarding Council in Talanthia consists of one black robe, one white robe, and one gray robe known also as the Masters of the Realm, meaning the realm of magic. Of course, many misunderstood them. These and other histories are taught to all mages the moment they attend the small local schools.
Those memories moved through Viola’s mind while she thought over Mern’s question. She wanted power, but that was the same as any other magic user. She never believed in a cause, good or bad but she heard stories of what a black robed mage was capable of doing. Casting spells such as them would put her in the annals of history, of that she had little doubt. After what felt like hours she answered, “I want to wear the gray robes.” She wasn’t shocked or surprised with her answer, it felt right.
Mern nodded, watching her. His bushy white eyebrows raised in mild surprise allowing her to see his eyes. “Why the gray? Surely the black are more appealing, far more power there for the taking.”
Viola felt intimidated, had she chosen wrong? Had she upset her master? She took a deep breath and swallowed, he told her to be true to herself. “Yes, their power is inviting, but I’d rather have knowledge and kindness to help me as well as power.”
Mern listened to her without a twitch of his face to betray his thoughts. He’d chosen wisely, she would prove to be everything he hoped for and more. “You answered correctly and true to yourself, child.” He smiled at her visible relief, “Now that that’s out of the way, I understand you wish to learn a spell. One of the moderate difficulties, if I’m not mistaken. Shall we begin?”
Unsure of how he knew her intention, Viola began explaining the spell she needed, or felt was missing something, some small overlooked detail. Mern listened, nodding throughout her spoken concerns. “I… I’m not sure what else I could do. I’ve checked everything three times, from what I can see it’s correct.”
Mern nodded his understanding, “But you believe you’re doing something in error.”
“There can be no other reason…” Viola’s voice trailed off while she once again went over everything on her mental checklist.
“What are your intentions?” Mern’s tone was mater-of-fact.
Viola paused before answering. “Lecotah.”
Mern nodded with immense patience he didn’t feel at the moment. If a mage couldn’t scribe a spell properly it was useless, and often proved deadly if the habit wasn’t corrected. “I see, therein lies your problem.”
Viola stared at him in confusion, “What’s that Master?”
Mern smiled at her, being called “Master” would’ve filled him with pride at another time. Now, it seemed a penance he had to pay. Pay it he would, there wasn’t time to find another. Instead of answering her question, he pushed a blank piece of parchment and a quill pen towards her. “Simple mistakes lead to failures the scope of which you can’t imagine.” Viola shifted in her seat, she never saw anyone change their mood so quick except for her school master. “I am far more difficult than your former master.” He seemed to read her mind. “I demand nothing but the precision of excellence from my apprentices. Simple mistakes like incorrectly scribing a spell could get yourself, and those depending on you, killed. That won’t happen to me. You will write ‘Lecotah’ two hundred times until the words glow bright enough to dazzle me.”
Unsure of herself, but noting the difference in pronouncement, she took hold of the quill, dipped it into the ink well, and began to write. The feeling of tears of anger and hurt feelings began to well up inside of her. He could’ve told her about her mistake instead of attacking her like that. She snuffed back her tears, refusing to give him the satisfaction of watching her cry.
When she finished the third word she jumped when Mern’s hand squeezed her shoulder. “There can be no stupid mistakes like this, ever, or you place those you care about in great danger.” Mern’s voice sounded soft and gentle compared to a moment earlier, causing her anger and pain to melt away. He was looking after her, doing his best to guide her towards her dreams of being a powerful mage. Sighing, she began the fourth word, if only her former master had been so adept.
The amount of wisdom Mern bestowed upon her since entering his room more than made up for what she hadn’t learned under Master Poumous. She’d been nothing more than an unfocused fool for all those years, now Viola intended to repay all those wronged through her incompetence. Viola would remember all who meant well towards her when she took her rightful place next to a king. Perhaps King Jerrard of Tallas, he was said to be a kind and just king. Those thoughts were for another time, now was the time to learn from her mistakes.
Chapter 11
A peaceful night settled on Hope as most readied for bed, a glowing red ember being the only telling sign that someone stirred. Galin sat outside his market stall puffing on his pipe. Most Dwarves would’ve looked on him with ridicule and disgust for adopting one of the human’s vile practices. He shrugged off the thought, to the Abyss with their opinions and beliefs. Dwarves were notorious for their xenophobic beliefs as many of their race spends their entire lives below fresh air.
Those that chose to leave the safety of the Mountain Kingdom often took to life among the other people in the world. Humans were fond of the metal smith abilities of the Dwarves and paid handsomely for the trinkets, weapons, even apprenticeships. Though few Dwarves took humans as their apprentice, being it took forty years before a Dwarf was deemed suitable to work on his own. With their shortened life spans humans would spend much, if not all of their lives, learning the Dwarven trade. For some it proved worth the time as they were able to learn with the finest craftsmen the world had ever known.
Even the Elves looked beyond their own isolationism and invited Dwarven craftsmen to design a temple or other structure the Elves were unable to construct. As a result of their abilities, Dwarves were often hired to design and build prisons, which Halflings took as an insult, and fortifications during the threat of war, which was often, between the humans.
The result of those journeys and friendships built often resulted in the Dwarves earning up to five times more gold than their cousins choosing to remain in their kingdom. To the Dwarves remaining behind, their wondering cousins seemed to take on the habits and beliefs of those in the outside world. It came to a head seventy years earlier during which a brutal separation of the two took place. The Mountain Dwarves remained behind in their kingdom beneath the mountains while those wishing to leave were exiled from the kingdom, their return being punishable by death.
Like their ancestors in Praxus, the exiled Dwarves soon began working on their own kingdom located under the rolling hills of Vermand. There they applied the skills that had been passed down for generations as well as those learned from humans such as farming, animal husbandry, and trading. Their kingdom, known as Vermand Sound, began to thrive as their trading center became legendary. Despite the bitter divorce from their kinsmen over their differing opinions, they continued to refuse admittance into their new kingdom to the other races without an invitation, staying true to the old ways. Change as they may, the distrust remains present towards the other races.
Galin harrumphed at the memory of leaving his ancestral home while puffing on his pipe. To call him too human was rewarded with a smile. He loved humans, they were better than Elves in his opinion. Humans were nearly always willing to listen to a Dwarf’s opinion on almost anything, in particular when it came to stone crafting or metallurgy. On the latter, Galin’s family was the best, had been for several generations. His great, great grandfather invented the ar
t form, in many Dwarven minds. Dwarven steel was much more refined than the clumsy iron weapons the humans used at the time and far sturdier than anything the Elves could make from wood and just as beautiful. Yes, his family always had the talent to work metal and he assumed that was the driving force behind why he cared so much for the humans. They appreciated the work as even the lowest of them nodded their admiration.
Galin missed his ancestral home, but life was better for him now. Every day brought new adventures. There were always a few that liked to haggle over the price of a bracelet, the purity of a necklace, or the functional ability of a knife. For the first time in a long while he sold everything faster than he thought possible. He brought enough to last two weeks at Hope but after two days he closed except for the occasional mending of chain mails or some other small service. He sent his nephew and his two assistants to Vermand Sound ahead of him, where they’d arrive by the following night to put his earnings into the family keep. He planned on following in a couple of days, the area around Hope was quiet and cool that time of year and he wanted to relax. Renard would be upset with him leaving, but he paid off his rental stall for the rest of the week. Unlike most of the others, he didn’t believe in contracts, a man’s word was his bond. Far more meaningful in the Dwarf’s eyes. Besides, he didn’t much care for the idea of being indebted to someone. There were far better ways for one to spend his life. With that thought on his mind Galin sat back and continued puffing on his pipe while watching a pair of Ogres attempt to make their way through the shadows. Despite their attempt, Ogres were horrible at stealth, and their stench gave away their identities at once. “By the hammer, what are those two idiots up to?” Galin mumbled to himself as one of the Nursk Brothers tripped over a pile of wood. The Dwarf watched them and shook his head, they may be clumsy but only a fool would challenge them. At least they waited until dark, Galin thought dryly.