What if it explodes?
“Hafrivark!” I declared.
Sparks flared past my palm, then faded with nothing happening.
“That was good!” Narusil breathed.
“Good?” I exclaimed, “Nothing happened!”
“Oh, not at all.” Naruisl laughed. “Didn’t you see the sparks?”
“But… shouldn’t it have been a bolt of fire like yours?” I demanded.
“It should. But let me ask, how was your focus?” She prodded.
I hung my head. “I was probably distracted. I was worried it would blow up or something.”
Narusil nodded, “That’s exactly what I’d expect. But even with that, you still elicited a magical reaction.”
Encouraged, I tried again. The sparks were a bit brighter, but again fears and doubts kept it from doing anything.
“Master, you need to let go of your worry about what will happen.” Narusil chided. “You use your weapons without concern, but couldn’t they be just as disastrous?”
I felt called out. She was right. I let cartridges full of what were essentially explosives detonate inches away from my face every time I pulled my trigger, but a little bit of fire scared me like this?
I took a deep breath. It was gonna be fine.
I focused and raised my hand again. I began to go through the exercise of imagining the fire mixing with my will in front of my hand once more. I focused on the target.
Doubts sprung up again, but I waited until they passed. Nothing was going to go wrong. No one was going to be hurt. This spell was going to work.
Finally, able to concentrate fully on the spell and focus on my target I spoke the word.
“Hafrivark.”
My hand felt the heat of the small orb of flame that formed in front of my hand, but I stayed focused on the target.
With a sound like a rocket firing, a beam of fire raced from its place in front of my hand, spiked through the target and raced toward the back wall, only to splash against some sort of barrier about a foot shy. The beam probably only lasted a few seconds, but it felt like an eternity.
The only sound was the tiny flicker of the flames around the quarter sized hole in the wood target.
“By X’thallion’s rod…” Creadean cursed.
“What IS he?” Ki’Amura gasped.
Narusil shot them a look. “Well… That is why we are here in the practice chamber. Now… let’s see about perhaps moderating the flames you are envisioning.”
“Okay, I suppose I can try that.” I muttered.
At least no one had been hurt.
I tried to imagine the flames mixing with my will again, but… to a lesser degree this time.
“Hafrivark.”
This time the beam only lasted for a second before dissipating, leaving a second hole in the target.
Each time I cast the spell, it seemed easier and easier to perform the mental exercises to cast the spells. I wasn’t sure I was anywhere near being able to cast them in a high stress situation, but it was getting easier to practice.
“Better! That was almost on the level of a normal spell!” Narusil congratulated me.
“Why shouldn’t he make his spells as strong as possible?” Tavorwen wondered.
“Magic has the potential for far greater destruction than any other tool.” Narusil insisted. “It is always best to use the minimal amount of power to accomplish your goals, to avoid unintended consequences.”
“What possible repercussions could a simple spell like this have?” Creadean laughed. “Your target dies extra dead?”
Narusil raised his brow, “And what if you don’t realize what is behind that target? Here the magic stops his spell before it hits the wall. But what if furrows and furrows behind the enemy, there is an innocent village and multiple innocent individuals also fall to the ray. We have no idea what the range of such a spell is! All our parameters might as well be a stink in the wind for all they matter to his spells.”
Aaaaaaaaaaaaaand my stress about spellcasting was back.
Narusil turned to me, “This is why we’re going to come back here every day to practice spells. I feel your anxiety about magic. You must conquer that and control your magic.”
I took a few more shots at casting my spells, but the anxiety was making it incredibly difficult. Before long my mind started to feel like jelly.
“You are done.” Narusil declared with some clear disappointment. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised by today’s result. We’ll start practicing each day to help you become the mage that you should be.”
Between the physical exertion of beginning my study of sword skills and my mental exertion of practicing a ‘simple fire spell’, I was entirely spent. The trudge back to my home was like the trek back to the barracks after a brutal day of PT and Advanced Tactical Training.
As we stepped out of the Academy, Narusil held out her arm and her owl landed lightly on her arm. She whispered to the bird and it flew off.
When we arrived home, the succulent scents of an elven dinner filled the house. Within minutes we were all at the table and I was diving into the food with gusto. The breads were delicious, and the simmered red meat hit the spot.
I sat there, exhausted, once I finished eating, until Lymarith piped up, “Master, you are clearly exhausted. Just go to bed.”
I wanted to protest, but I couldn’t find the words. So I trudged to my room. I set my weapons to the side of my bed. Stripped down to my undergarment and flopped on the bed. Almost as soon as my head hit the pillow I was out.
My eyes crept open hours later. The magic of the bed had done its work. My aches of the previous day were gone. My mind was feeling refreshed and invigorated. I marveled for a moment about how amazing these beds were and lamented that I hadn’t had the chance to sleep in them on earth. I could tell it was still night, though what hour escaped me. With how restful the sleep on these enchanted beds were, and how early I’d gone to bed, it was no wonder I woke well before dawn.
I sat up, and saw a flash of reflection, like the light of a cat’s eyes. I almost dove for my weapons, but a quick inventory of the bonds to my household revealed it to be Ki’Amura. Not quite ready to relax, having identified the presence in the darkness, but not why she was there, I decided for a direct approach.
“Hello there, Ki’Amura, what are you doing in my bedroom this early in the morning?” I asked.
“You seemed surprised,” the she-elf observed. “Did it truly take you so long to recognize me?”
Her voice came from utter darkness. With the lights completely extinguished, it was pitch black in the room. Making me realize that despite the lack of windows in their homes, elves either permitted light from the outside into their walls, or somehow replicated the level of light present in the world outside from some unseen source. It had never been this dark inside my room before, even with the lights out.
“Well, it would be easier to see you if there was any light at all…” I retorted, “Last time I checked, light is kind of critical to see things.”
Unless you had night vision goggles, I thought.
That level of technology was outside my understanding. Even if I knew every detail of how the tech worked, I doubted the elves could hammer our microchips.
“Interesting. I see you just fine… Master.” Ki’Amura retorted, the last word dripping with sarcasm and mockery.
I rose and began to dress, somewhat embarrassed to be groping around in the dark, in what was essentially briefs, in front of her.
“Truly… you are as good as blind in the darkness.” Ki’Amura mused. “That information alone would be your undoing, should I take it back to my people.”
“I would really appreciate you not doing that.” I assured her, finding my pants finally and stepping into them.
It was impossible to read Ki’Amura through her silence in the darkness, as I continued to dress.
“… I openly state that I possess the knowledge needed to end your interference in my mother’s plans, and still you refuse to command me… how foolhardy.” She murmured.
She was up to something. A mind game or something, I didn’t know. All it did was remind me why being single on Earth sucked. I hated the games, the teasing, the testing, the accusations and unnecessary fights just so we could make up. It was dumb, all of it.
“What makes you think I won’t return to my mother the next time you sleep, so when the Respite ends my people will triumph?” She demanded.
“It’s simple really.” I informed her. “In all my experience, I’ve never known anyone so stupid as to intentionally screw themselves over that badly for nothing. If I die, you go back to being your mother’s slave. Sounds like you’re eating better here, we don’t beat you here, we don’t force you to act in a certain way or do anything you don’t want to. And that’s assuming the elves don’t just kill you trying to betray them. I assume treason is a crime in most societies.”
I pulled on my boots and began strapping in my belts. “You’re many things, but stupid doesn’t seem to be one of them. Plus, if you were planning on betraying me, it would have been far simpler to just kill me in my sleep.”
The silence spoke volumes. She’d clearly considered it.
“Lemius.” I called, igniting the lights in the room.
Ki’Amura sat near the door. She’d clearly taken offense to her garb. Now she wore what was clearly a strip of her old dress wrapped around her upper body, covering her from armpit to the base of her ribs. The skirts had been cut loose from whatever remained of the garment and had been tied in the front to hold it above her hips. The skirts only extended just to her knees, clearly cut with a sharp blade, and her hands were suspiciously behind her back.
“Thought you could travel better with less restrictive garments?” I guessed.
Ki’Amura flushed.
“While I’m glad you decided against it, I’m curious why you didn’t just slit my throat with the knife behind your back?” I asked.
She couldn’t meet my eye.
“Oh? Was I that spot on?” I guessed and her embarrassment was too great to keep from seeping through the bond.
“Well, I hope we’ve gotten over that,” I told her.
Her shoulders tensed and she waited.