A Touch of Magic

by Gregory Mahan

  Randall rushed through his chores as quickly as he could, his mind on fire. Dwarven steel! I did something Master Erliand couldn’t even do! I’m certain to be a powerful Mage some day! I wonder what else I can do! He didn’t give a second thought to Master Erliand’s warning. After all, how likely was it for him to run into a dwarf? Master Erliand was getting worked up over nothing.

  After completing his chores, he could hardly wait to get finished with his weapons drills, but that was nothing new. Long bored with the repetitive nature of weapons practice, Randall used the time to think and daydream. Today, he was so lost in thought that he was barely aware of what he was doing with his dagger. Halfway through his drills, he heard a cry of alarm from Erliand’s study.

  “Oh no!” he exclaimed, and tore through the small house and ripped open the study door. All of the old Mage’s warnings about being attacked shot to the forefront of his mind.

  Erliand sat at his desk, pounding his fist on the surface, and cursing up a storm. At this moment Randall thought he sounded more like a caravan master than a Mage, that’s for sure! Randall’s father had never cursed much, and the invective coming from Erliand made Randall blush to the tips of his ears.

  After a moment, Erliand sensed Randall standing in the doorway and looked over at him irritably. “What do you want, boy? It’s not time yet!” he snapped.

  “Master, I heard a noise, and, well, you see, I thought…” Randall petered out, still panting heavily from his run.

  Erliand’s glanced at the dagger still gripped tightly in Randall’s fist. His expression softened somewhat, as he said “Now I have you paranoid, too! Probably for the best anyway. Well, might as well come in and sit down. Your little trinket just gave up the ghost.”

  Randall looked at Erliand’s desk as he came into the study. “Where is it?” he asked, his eyes lighting on a thin coating of dark ash on the desk in front of Erliand.

  “I told you, it expired. A rune that powerful takes everything the host has to give, and leaves nothing left, except maybe a little dust and soot.” Erliand held up his fingers so that Randall could see the black stains on his fingertips. “One second it was in my hand, hard as…well, dwarven steel. The next second—poof!”

  Erliand threw up his arms for effect and kicking up a small cloud of fine black dust from the surface of his desk, making them both cough uncontrollably. After the dust settled, Erliand continued.

  “Lasted a good long while, though, considering what it was made of. Would’ve likely lasted a good while longer had it been carved in steel or stone to start with. Now I said have a seat!”

  “Yes Master!” Randall squeaked, and slid into the chair in front of Erliand’s desk. Erliand pushed the parchment across to Randall, and held out a bit of charcoal to him.

  “All right, lad. Draw it for me again.” Erliand commanded.

  Randall took the charcoal cautiously, and eyed the parchment. It was covered with dozens of copies of Randall’s Buk rune. To Randall’s eye, they were identical reproductions of his work, but it was obvious that they had not behaved as intended. He took a deep breath and bent over the paper, painstakingly drawing out the rune. Feeling Erliand’s eyes burning into him, he worked carefully, trying to recreate the rune as he had last night. He didn’t realize that he was holding his breath until he finished drawing and blew out the stale air in a great sigh. Drawing another deep breath, he nervously tried to open himself to Llandra, but the power wouldn’t come. He looked up at Master Erliand in embarrassment and began clearing his mind for another attempt.

  “Oh, give it here!” Erliand snapped impatiently, reaching across the desk to snatch up the paper. Randall felt a quick, strong pulse of power as Erliand drew power to infuse the rune. Feeling a tinge of envy at his master’s confidence and skill at gathering power, he looked at the parchment to see what changes had been wrought.

  “Nothing,” sighed Erliand. “Not surprised, I suppose. Lightning doesn’t strike the same tree twice. But you’ve given me a decade’s worth of research, for sure boy! Maybe a lifetime! I sure got my two talens worth out of you!”

  Rather than being proud at the praise, Randall felt his heart sink. I guess I’m not so amazing after all, he thought, disappointed.

  “Don’t look so down in the mouth, Randall,” Erliand ordered. “Nobody would have expected you to make that rune again. Be proud that you made one like it in the first place, even if you can never duplicate it. That’s more than most Mages will ever do in their lifetime!”

  Randall perked up at that. “Yes, Master,” he said, feeling himself blush at the praise.

  “That’s better. Now let’s take another look at my healing talisman. I want to show you something.”

  Erliand pulled the shiny black cylinder from a drawer in his desk and handed it across the table to Randall. Immediately, Randall felt the pains of his daily weapons practice lessen a bit in his arms and shoulders. He had grown so inured to the aches that he had practically forgotten them until they began feeling better. His mood lightened as the pain melted away, and he found himself forgetting about his problems as he eyed the talisman with interest.

  “Now, the way you drew Buk last night, that was a powerful rune.” Erliand said, rubbing his chin in the lecturing pose that Randall had grown accustomed to seeing. “The more closely you get to the heart of the rune, the more powerful the effect, and the less subtle it becomes. On the other hand, most symbols are subtle. Take that talisman. Only one of those symbols is the one for healing. But it’s so weak that you shouldn’t feel it working at all. If you were lucky, it might make you get over a cold an hour early. Or maybe just a minute early. Hard to say.”

  “But it healed my hand pretty good right in front of my eyes,” Randall said. “My concussion, too.”

  “That’s true, indeed it is,” Erliand said. “When I healed your hand, I juiced up the talisman. I drew magic from Llandra, and pushed it into the runes. The technique is the same as when you charge one for the very first time. Like fanning a fire, it makes them very potent for a very short time. Also like fanning a fire, it burns your fuel faster, shortening a talisman’s lifespan. Don’t expect to see me do it again on that particular charm.”

  “But even just holding it, I can feel it making my muscles less achy Master!” Randall protested.

  “Quit interrupting, boy!” Erliand snapped. “I’m getting to that part. I carved probably a hundred symbols on that talisman. The healing symbol, of course, but that’s only one of them. Now I’ve told you before that some symbols come in families, and make a kind of magical language, and we call those runes. There’s another kind of symbol, a kind that only works when you put it with another. These are called bindrunes, and they make a talisman stronger and more focused. I’ve put eleven of them on that talisman, and together with the healing symbol, they’re what makes it work.”

  “Wow…” said Randall, looking the talisman over. A thought suddenly occurred to him. “What would happen if I would have put those bindrunes with my rune last night?”

  Erliand chuckled. “I plan on exploring that very question when I am able to duplicate your rune. Maybe we could have made something even stronger than dwarven steel. Maybe nothing at all. See, not all bindrunes work together, and not all symbols can have their power boosted with a bindrune. And it sometimes depends on what order you inscribe them, and how they touch each other. I know hundreds of bindrunes, far more than any other symbol I know. It took me the better part of four years to figure out the particular configuration on that talisman there.”

  Four years? Randall thought. Four years ago, I was practically a baby! “I see,” Randall said as he continued to examine the healing talisman. “So, what are the rest of these symbols then, Master?” Randall asked. “There are a lot more than a dozen of them here.”

  “Null-power bindrunes.” Erliand answered, causing Randall to raise his eyebrows questioningly. “You can’t just connect any old garbage you want to a rune. It’ll break the magic if y
ou do. Null-power bindrunes do nothing at all, but more importantly, they don’t disrupt the power of other symbols on the talisman.”

  “Then why put them on there, Master?” Randall asked. “Seems like a lot of work for nothing.”

  “Don’t be dense, boy. To hide the true runes, of course.” Erliand exclaimed. “Null-power bindrunes don’t do anything for a talisman, but they don’t break the magic either. The fact that they’re every bit as difficult to learn as any other symbol makes it a lot harder for someone to figure out your formulas without investing a lot of time and effort. That way some Johnny-come-lately doesn’t come along, stealing your secrets and selling them cheaper.”

  “Oh,” Randall said, imagining taking years painstakingly drawing thousands of symbols and runes looking for just the right combination. “It’s not very exciting work, though, is it?”

  Erliand chuckled. “It won’t seem so dull the first time you earn a small stack of talens for your troubles, I can tell you that. But symbol magic isn’t very thrilling, I’ll grant you.” Erliand paused, and considered the soot on his fingertips. “Usually. Don’t you worry, though. I’ll teach you some of the more flashy kinds of magic later, after you’ve developed a little. By this time next year, I wager you’ll be having the rake do your yard work all on its own!”

  “Wow, really!” Randall asked, sitting straight up in his chair.

  Erliand laughed out loud, and pulled several sheets of parchment from his desk. “We’ll see. But for now, we’ll work on some more symbol magic.” He quickly sketched out several symbols onto a fresh sheet of parchment.

  Randall let out a groan of despair before he could catch himself. He knew where this was leading. More countless hours of handwriting practice.

  “Now don’t get all disappointed yet, boy. I have the feeling you’ll like this one.” Erliand said as he pushed the parchment across the desk. “That first symbol is the rune Eoin. It means ‘desire’.”

  “Desire? You mean like making someone love you?” Randall immediately thought of Melinda back home. With magic, perhaps she would get over her loathing of him. Maybe he could even get her to kiss him!

  Erliand laughed out loud. “Indeed, that’s one meaning, boy. Quit blushing and pay attention. I keep forgetting you’re not as young as you look.” Randall blushed again as Erliand continued, “There are different kinds of desire, and love is just one of them. There is the love of money: avarice. There is gluttony, the love of food. Jealousy and envy are just flavors of desire, too. There is ambition, which is the desire to improve one’s station, as well as nobility, which can be defined as the desire to serve others. Desire is at the heart of many human interactions. You’ll find yourself turning to Eoin time and time again as the basis for a practical solution to a problem you are solving with magic. Eoin is a very subtle rune, and how it acts ultimately depends on what bindrunes you combine it with.”

  “For instance, that first cluster I’ve drawn there is the most commonly known configuration for romantic love. It won’t produce much more than a childhood crush, but for some that’s enough to get things started in a relationship. That other group of runes is a mild combination for gluttony. That one’s been known to be used to stimulate the appetite in the sick. You can practice them both, to give you some feeling of how bind runes can influence the base rune.”

  “Master, I’m confused,” Randall said.

  “Boys your age are always confused,” Erliand chuckled. “What’s your question?”

  “Well, I thought you said you could draw a rune slightly differently and change its meaning. Why then am I learning bindrunes to do the same thing?” Randall asked.

  “Hah! Cause it’s easier lad!” Erliand grinned. “Let’s say you have five runes. If you wanted to change each of them in some way, you’d have to learn a new expression for each one. That’s ten runes you’d have to experiment on and develop for ten different effects, right? Now, let’s say you happened to know of a bindrune that worked with them all in the way you wanted. That’s only six runes you have to know for the same effect. Learn two common bindrunes, and now you can potentially make twenty combinations from learning only seven. Of course, not all bindrunes will work with all base runes, but even so, learning bindrunes greatly speeds up learning and making practical use of symbology.”

  “Oh!” Randall said, grasping the obvious. “That makes sense!” In his mind’s eye, Randall could see how much faster it would be to try out many combinations of runes he already knew to achieve new effects instead of learning a new expression every time he wanted to do something new with a rune.

  “‘Course it does!” Erliand chortled. “Everything I say makes sense! Now be off with you and bring me some tea before you get to work. And be glad I didn’t give you some null-power bindrunes to learn. Now that’s dull work!”

  “Yes master,” Randall said, standing up. He stopped at the doorway, still examining the parchment. “Master?” he asked.

  “What is it lad,” Erliand replied, already back to examining his copies of the Buk rune.

  “Is Eoin an elven rune?” Randall asked.

  “And why would you think that?” Erliand asked as he looked up at Randall.

  “Well, it’s all swirls and curves and you said elven runes were like that. You said Buk was a dwarven rune, and it was all straight lines and angles, to be easier to carve you said.”

  “Anything else?” Erliand asked.

  “Well, Eoin is also…more complicated,” Randall answered, struggling to put his thoughts into words. “Buk seemed like a very straightforward rune. This one has whorls and bits twisting upon itself. It doesn’t seem very straightforward at all. Instead, it feels more mysterious. You said that the elves magic was subtle, and that seems a lot like this rune.”

  “Very good lad!” Erliand said, obviously pleased. “Glad to see you were paying attention. You’re exactly right. Also, if you think about it, the dwarven rune was about something tangible. Much like the dwarves themselves, their magic is rooted in the physical. Even in magic, they are down-to-earth, dealing in things you can see and touch. The elven magics, on the other hand, deal with the intangible: the heart and mind. You don’t need to smite an enemy with lightning if you can convince him that you’re a friend. In matters of the soul, the elves have no equals in magic. But they lost the secret of Eoin to men long before my grandfather was born. Legend has it that an elven Duchess used it to woo the heart of a young and handsome Mage, but the Mage discovered her chicanery. He divined the secret of the rune and used it against her, escaping the elven kingdoms, and bringing back with him the secret of Eoin.”

  Erliand chuckled to himself. “Of course, he didn’t live long after that. As the story goes, they found him in a fairy circle a fortnight later, stone cold dead.”

  Randall nodded, only half listening to the tale. His mind was already working furiously, fantasizing about how he might use this new magic. Not only could he charm Melinda into liking him, but he could use the other set of runes to help make more money for her father’s inn! He excused himself and went back to his room with the parchment to work. Settling down, he began copying the set of love runes. In his young mind, it was the most practical choice of the two.

  After his tenth failure, he rolled over and sighed. It’s going to be a long winter, he thought despondently.

  * * *

  Twice a week, Erliand tested Randall’s progress with the runes he was learning. Randall was improving, though it seemed to be at a snail’s pace. It had been nearly a year since he first came to Master Erliand’s home, and Randall still sometimes had trouble drawing power when he wanted it. The rest of the week, Randall and Erliand would have after-dinner conversations about Randall’s progress in his symbol practice, and also about the Buk rune Randall had drawn. Erliand had made a charcoal rubbing of the rune, so that they had its dimensions, but he had been unsuccessful in his efforts to create and empower a similar one. So, they would look over Erliand’s notes, and talk about s
tyle, stroke speed, line lengths, and all sorts of technical detail. Though they never seemed to make any real progress, Randall loved these investigations. Erliand lost most of his gruff exterior, and treated Randall nearly like an equal. The excited curiosity was infectious, and Randall found himself thinking more about ways to draw a simple symbol than he ever thought would be possible.

  Half-way through winter, they met after dinner as had become their custom when Erliand cleared his throat and took a long look at Randall, as if coming to a decision. “I’m changin’ your routine, boy,” he finally announced.

  Randall waited patiently. He had come to learn that Erliand liked to make announcements with a sense of deliberation and maybe a bit of melodrama. Interrupting or rushing him would just lead to an irritated Mage and a chastised pupil.

  “I’m cancelling our evening-time discussions. I’ll be teasing out the secrets of that rune for years yet, and you have new things you need to be learning,” he said.

  “But I’m learning a lot about runes during our discussions, Master!” Randall protested. Part of him noted the irony of wanting to spend more time around the irritable old man. But the truth of the matter was that there was no one else to spend time with, and Erliand was at his most amenable when they were studying the Buk rune together.

  “Indeed,” Erliand said with a hint of a mischief. “But I said that you need to move on to new things.”

  “Oh!” Randall exclaimed, realizing that Erliand meant something other than learning a new rune. He felt as excited as if he were getting a new toy. “What am I to learn, Master?”

  “Well boy, at the start of your training, do you remember what I told you about the types of magic?”

  “Uhm,” Randall thought, scratching his head. “There are symbols. I know that. And…words. And somethin’ else, but I don’t remember what.”

  Erliand chuckled. “That’s fine, boy. It’s been a while. But if it helps, you can think of magic like a kind of language. A language that makes things happen. Now you can write a language. You can speak a language. And you can also think a language.”