by Pirateaba
Ryoka’s ears metaphorically perked up at that last statement. She frowned at Ceria.
“‘Not all humans?’ Does that mean that other races have greater or lesser potential to become mages? How about your kind?”
—-
Pisces looked disgruntled at Erin’s question. He folded his arms and scowled.
“I assume you mean half elves. Yes, their affinity towards spellcasting is far greater than our own. However, a speciesist advantage does not translate into individual ability. Nor does that mean the greatest mages are always nonhuman. In fact, some of the most famous archmages of this era are human. And exceptions are born in races not normally thought to be magically proficient. Minotaurs, for example have barely any potential, but some have achieved 2nd Tier magics.”
Erin tried to imagine Minotaurs, but just came up with those ancient Greek pictures of bull-headed monsters with human bodies. She had a hard time imagining one of those things muttering spells or reading a book.
Pisces scowled and Erin stopped grinning.
“Okay, sure. Not all humans are mages. Some of us are Muggles. Got it?”
“Muggles?”
“Uh—how about Goblins?”
Pisces sniffed.
“I have never heard of any Goblin whose abilities matched that of a proper mage. Their innate capabilities are likely too low to support the strain of spellcasting. Their race as a whole can barely snuff out a candle, let alone magically.”
Both Rags and Erin sat upright in indignation. Erin opened her mouth, but Rags stuck her finger up first.
Since it wasn’t her middle finger, but rather her index both Pisces and Erin stared at it curiously. Rags muttered a few words in her own language and then glared at her fingertip.
Nothing happened. Erin exchanged a glance with Pisces and then a spark of light made her blink. She looked at Rag’s finger and gasped. A tiny flame danced on her fingertip. Erin stared at it, and then at Rags.
“You can do magic?”
Pisces shook his head. He blew and the flame on Rag’s finger went out. She narrowed her eyes but he wasn’t impressed by her magic or her stare.
“Tribal magic. Feh.”
“Wait a second.”
Erin was extremely confused and said so.
“Isn’t that magic? Why’d you call it tribal magic?”
Pisces rubbed at his temple.
“I should really ban questions. Well, to summarize a complex issue, the magic your little friend used is not true magic. Or at least, not the magic practiced by [Mages]. It is an amalgamate of mana drawn from her tribe, such as it is.”
Erin stared blankly at Pisces.
“What?”
He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.
“Allow me to explain another way. Magic surrounds us. It is in everything, but an individual’s capacity for magic varies. And the same goes for our surroundings. Thus, in a highly magically charged environment spells are naturally easy to cast. In a null zone, a [Mage] must rely solely on his or her own internal magical energy to cast spells.”
“Right. I got that.”
Pisces nodded. He pointed at Rags who leaned out of the way of his finger.
“Goblins on the other hand practice a different form of magic. They draw their mana not only from the environment, but from each other. Thus a single Goblin may use the mana of the entire tribe it is affiliated with to cast spells.”
Erin snapped her fingers and Rags jumped. The Goblin stared suspiciously at Erin’s hand and immediately tried to duplicate the gesture.
“Oh, I get it. You’re crowd-sourcing magic.”
Pisces blinked at Erin, and then decided to ignore her strange comments and Rag’s attempts to learn to snap her own fingers.
“Yes, well, it is a crude thing. But I suppose it is powerful enough in its own way, as it allows even Goblin tribes one or two spellcasters of their own. These ah, ‘shamans’ draw power from the collective. The larger their group is, the more power they wield. Thus, while the Goblins in the area most likely cannot collectively create more than a few sparks, a larger tribe of a thousand souls would create a decently powerful [Shaman]. But it is inefficient.”
Pisces shook his head.
“A thousand people and only one caster? A ridiculous waste.”
“Hey, if it works…”
He sniffed.
“It isn’t proper magic, that’s all. True, these [Shamans] may copy many magic spells, but they are born out of a collective will and lack structure and form. Such spells belong more to the ancient breed of Miracles than they do proper Magecraft.”
Erin’s head was beginning to hurt. She raised a hand as if she were in class.
“Wait a minute. Miracles?”
Another sigh. Rags stopped snapping her fingers and sat up to listen.
“An older, extinct form of magic. Well, I say magic but it was ever unclear whether Miracles were magic or…something else. You may think of them as a form of prayer brought into existence. Such as—well, wishing for a friend to be healed. A miracle would close his wounds and restore his essence through such faith.”
Erin blinked. That sounded…that sounded like an actual miracle, straight out of the bible passages she vaguely remembered from her time at church as a kid.
“Hold on, you mean there’s a way to do stuff like walk on water and part the seas? Why doesn’t everyone do that?”
Pisces blinked at Erin and gave her a look she was starting recognize. It was the ‘you really don’t get it?’ look Selys used every so often on her.
“Perhaps because miracles were a function of faith and belief in gods. And the gods no longer exist. Ergo, miracles have likewise ended.”
Erin opened her mouth and then silently closed it to digest what she’d just heard. Pisces went on, oblivious.
“But you are correct. Once upon a time, miracles matched magic in its capacity to warp the world. It was said a [Cleric] in their earliest levels could do what an [Archmage] could not.”
He paused, and closed his eyes. Pisces seemed to recite something from memory.
“‘By faith and faith alone do they warp the bounds of reality. Their desire and belief creates Gods and bridges the gap between impossibility and truth. Though blade and spell may take their lives, their inviolate will shall move this world.’”
He shook his head.
“So much for that. The gods are dead. So too are the ancient ways of faith and miracle.”
Erin didn’t know why, but she felt a bit of a pang in her heart as she heard that. As if something had been lost before she’d even discovered it. She raised her hand again.
“So there aren’t any miracles anymore? I thought there were a few [Clerics] in Liscor. What about them?”
“Ah, well. [Clerics] are now simply [Healers] who are able to cast spells. The definition of the class has changed, and accordingly, so have the skills and spells learnt. It was quite a fascinating phenomenon, actually. I studied it in a course back in Wistram—”
Pisces shook his head.
“But I haven’t time to get into the variation in classes over centuries. Where was I? Oh, of course. Magic. Let us not forget what we are here to learn. Very well, I assume you understand a bit of what magic is. Now to test you.”
Pisces raised his hands and suddenly advanced on Rags and Erin. Their chairs scooted back and he stopped, looking peeved.
“It is not a dangerous process. I simply wish to ascertain whether or not either of you can become mages. I will test you in the traditional style. Do not move and I will saturate the area around you with raw mana and allow you to demonstrate your magical ability—or lack thereof.”
—-
Ryoka eyed Ceria.
“Will it hurt?”
The half-elf looked up as she fiddled with her wand.
“Oh, of course not. It’s just a test, that’s all. This is how I was taught as a child. I know Humans do it differently, but it should work for you.”
“Just watch. I’m going to draw a symbol in the air. I want you to look at it and tell me what you see. Don’t worry; there’s no time limit. And if your eyes start to hurt you can look away.”
Slowly, Ceria began to move her wand through the air, leaving a glowing afterimage that hovered and shimmered in Ryoka’s vision. Ceria’s wand moved and flicked, tracing a pattern that looked like a bunch of squiggles and straight lines put together randomly.
But—it wasn’t just a two dimensional pattern. Ryoka blinked and rubbed at her eyes. Somehow, Ceria’s wand had begun tracing the image in three dimensions. And then the image shifted again and the rune—or was it a word?—in the air took on more dimensions than could be captured by a camera.
Ryoka thought she heard the magical word being drawn in the air. Or she felt it. And when Ceria put down her wand, the glowing white symbol burned Ryoka’s vision.
“Just relax. Look at it only as long as you’re comfortable. If you can’t understand it, that’s fine.”
Ceria’s voice came from behind the cloud of shimmering lines. Ryoka opened her eyes and forced herself to focus on the lines.
It was so hard to understand.
—-
“I don’t get it.”
Erin complained to Pisces as she held her hands out. The mage grunted. He was holding his hands out, palms towards Erin and Rags. Sweat beaded on his forehead, but nothing seemed to be happening.
“I—am infusing the air around you with my mana. It will allow you to cast spells if you have the potential.”
“But how? You never said?”
A vein stood out on Pisces’ sweaty brow. He grunted.
“Just think of something.”
“Like what?”
“Anything! Whatever you wish! Fire, water, a shiny new pot. Will the magic to obey your command!”
—-
“Relax. Don’t stare at it so hard. Let it be.”
Ryoka tried to obey. She really did. But the magical word was like an unsolved problem burning in her mind. She wanted to stare at it, to figure out what it meant, and the harder she stared the more confused her brain became.
It was like a math problem. A hard one, way harder than the AP Calculus class Ryoka had taken back in high school.
Yes—exactly like a math problem. Ryoka blinked. Suddenly, part of the symbol made sense. There were…facets to it that resembled a mathematical equation. Things to be balanced. You couldn’t take magic and use it without repercussions. Cost and exchange.
The Law of Conservation of Energy. Only energy could be destroyed with magic. Yet it was from magic that the cost was taken, and so the law remained more or less intact. But magic was not based in science. What was destroyed could be more or less than what was gained. Magic was. But it obeyed certain rules, like osmosis. It flowed. And it flowed around the world.
Ryoka put her head in her hands and tried to stop thinking. But the word was burning her from the inside out. She was on the cusp of it, and it spoke to her. It was a word. But was there even a name for it in her limited language?
Ceria folded her hands on her lap and smiled slightly as she watched Ryoka.
—-
Pisces hissed and his face scrunched up with concentration. He was already reddening, but neither Goblin nor Human was doing anything.
Erin focused. She really did. She tried thinking of a flame like the one Rags had conjured, but she just ended up thinking of lighters and matches. She tried muttering words.
“Expelliarmus. Alohamora. Wingardium Leviosa. Wingardium leviosa.”
“What are you muttering?”
“Nothing.”
It wasn’t working. Erin couldn’t feel anything, except a mild ache in her arms from holding them up for so long. She gritted her teeth. She could do this. She closed her eyes and pushed—
A flame burst upwards and evaporated into a cloud of smoke. Erin gasped and grinned in relief and triumph—
Rags blinked at her finger and then pointed again. Pisces yelped as a flare of fire burst from her fingertip and twisted towards him. It evaporated into smoke before it reached his robes and set him off into a coughing fit.
“Oh. More tribal magic?”
The mage shook his head and coughed, waving away the smoke. But he didn’t seem angry. Instead, he stared at Rags for a few seconds before replying very slowly.
“That was no tribal magic. That was the very beginning of the [Firefly] spell.”
“Really?”
Encouraged, Erin stretched her fingers out and tried as hard as she could to do the same thing. But Pisces wasn’t staring at her. His attention was fixed on the proud Goblin. He put one hand on his chin and started muttering to himself.
“Goblins cannot learn magic in the traditional sense. It is impossible. Surely if they had the potential it would have been discovered, analyzed in centuries hence. The potential ramifications—or is it simple freak divergence? Ancestry?”
He whirled and pointed at Rags, who leaned back.
“You. Goblin child. Was your mother non-Goblin? Or…your father?”
It shook its head.
“What would that matter?”
Erin snapped at Pisces. He jumped and she glared at his hands. He put them back over hers and talked while he focused again.
“It would explain things. The offspring of Goblins are always Goblins regardless of the partner, male or female. But sometimes Goblins may inherit traits from their…parents. The ah, victim might play a part in explaining unusual talents. But if this young Goblin—Rags has no immediate non-Goblin ancestors it would mean—”
“She can be a mage. I get it.”
Erin scowled at her hands. She willed them to catch fire.
“Don’t stop. It’s my turn now. The test isn’t over yet, right? I can still continue?”
Pisces hesitated. Something in his face softened as he looked at Erin.
“…By all means. Keep on trying.”
She ignored the look in his eyes and the way Rags looked at him. Erin stared at her hands. She would cast magic. She could. She would cast magic. She would—
—-
Ryoka tried not to scream as she stared at the word and the magic stared back. It was inescapable, even when she closed her eyes. The word was the beginning, and the word was magic and magic was with her and the magic was made into reality—
It seared Ryoka’s mind like wildfire. The knowledge burned through her assumptions and all she’d been taught all her life, breaking down walls in her head she’d never known were there. The agony of it was unbearable.
Ceria was shaking her, trying to get Ryoka to move. She was telling Ryoka this shouldn’t be happening, trying to erase the magic word. But it was ingrained in Ryoka’s soul. It was a bit of truth, and it was something to cling to even as the rest of the world fell to pieces.
Ryoka opened her eyes. The magic surged through her, a feeling unlike any other. It wasn’t being more alive. Life was life, but magic—it was opening another door and stepping into a different world.
Suddenly the pain was gone. Ryoka sat up and brushed Ceria’s hands off her.
“I’m okay. I am. I saw it.”
Ceria peered anxiously into Ryoka’s face. The running girl had bitten her lips so hard she’d drawn blood, but she didn’t seem to notice.
“I saw it.”
Ryoka repeated and stared at the fading shape in the air. She didn’t need to see it, though. She could remember. She would always remember.
The knowledge was in her eyes, in the way Ryoka moved, in everything she was. Ceria looked at Ryoka, and whatever she saw reassured her. She smiled, relieved.
“Well? Did you see what I wrote? Can you tell me what it says?”
Ryoka took a deep breath. It had no real name. None that the English language was capable of expressing, even with a thousand words. But there was still a
way to say it.
She opened her mouth.
“[Light].”
In the stillness of the early morning, light shimmered through the window. All was still, and then the light of the sun was joined by something else.
A soft light came up through Ryoka’s chest. It came down her arms, and up through her palms, which began to glow. A bauble of shimmering colors drifted up from between Ryoka’s palms, hovering in front of her face as she stared.
It was the most magical thing Ryoka had ever seen. It was hers. A glowing, sharply defined orb of what she could only call light made manifest. It was brighter than a light bulb because it was pure light, and yet it was not blinding either. If she stared hard enough she could see straight out the other side.
And it wasn’t white light either. Even as Ryoka stared at it, delicate shades of purple coalesced and then slowly transitioned into a deep blue and then brightened to green and then yellow. The light was living and it shifted even as she held it.
It…it looked sort of like a three dimensional loading wheel on a Mac computer if Ryoka was honest. Even as she thought that, the colors changed and the colors began to rotate in an annoyingly-familiar way.
Ceria blinked down at Ryoka’s light ball in surprise. She placed one hand on her hip and poked at the orb with the other. Her finger passed straight through the orb, making the light shimmer around her pale skin.
“I’ve never seen colors like that before. They’re so…bright.”
She picked up her wand and tapped it on her palm. Instantly—far quicker than Ryoka’s own spell had taken, another shimmering orb of light rose from Ceria’s palm. But her light was different. When she held the orb next to Ryoka’s the colors changed and deepened in ways Ryoka’s did not.
They were the same colors as the ones flashing through Ryoka’s orb of light, but somehow they were more real. The blue that illuminated the small room wasn’t more vivid or in any way brighter, but it felt deeper, subtler, to Ryoka’s eyes. It was a more complete understanding of what ‘blue’ was, and it made her digital colors pale by comparison.