by Kyle Belote
Fife showed Julie to her bed and bade her goodnight. The gnomling assured her there would be time for questions later, and that she needed rest. Dawn came early, and Fife woke Julie with a sharp crack of his staff on her bed, bolting her into an upright position, her head slamming into the low ceiling above. Fife chuckled heartily.
“I do that to every apprentice on the first day, and it is still funny,” he smiled. “You would like breakfast?”
Julie rubbed her head in agitation, a headache blossoming behind her eyes. “Yes,” she grunted.
“Then you should rise earlier, should you not?” Fife declared. “It is much too late for breakfast, and now you are much too late in starting your lessons. Do you think this is an inn where I clean up after you and you rise and sleep as you wish?”
“No, I don’t think that,” she said, already irritated with him. The discomfort didn’t help either. “You never said when I had to get up.”
“Then, you should have asked, should you not? You will rise before the sun each day, do you understand?” He pulled on his beard, his green gaze piercing her, measuring her.
“I understand,” she growled, throwing off the sheets.
“Master,” he supplied.
“What?”
Fife rapt her lightly on the head with his rod. “Master! You will address me as Master or Grand Maghai, is that so hard?”
“Would you stop doing that?” she blurted, her ire rising.
He rapt her again. “Master.”
“Ow, fuck, do you know how much that hurts?”
He hit her again, this time, harder. “Master. You will address me as Master or Grand Maghai,” he reiterated.
“Shades of the Underworld, would you stop that … Master?”
He smiled somewhat. “Better. It is a start, though slow, don’t you agree?”
Not trusting herself to speak, Julie only nodded. Her mind quickly darted to Rusem’s ring. She had but to put it on, and she could leave.
“Get dressed Starriace and meet me outside.” When she didn’t respond promptly, he raised his staff in warning.
“Yes, master.”
The ring is sounding better by the second, the saturnine thought came.
Her mood did not improve when she stubbed her toe on a chest in her room and sprang her wrist as her fist smashed into the low ceiling while slipping her arm into the robes. Twice she smacked her head on the low ceiling as she headed to the door, darkening her surly temperament. By the time she exited the small hut, she cursed like a storm and her presence boiled like a cyclone. The blinding, early morning light of the suns did little to improve her disposition. Fife had his back to her as she entered the clearing to the side of his hut.
Strike him down, the voice urged. You’ll feel better. While sorely tempted, she knew she wouldn’t live for much longer.
“I can see giving up power is difficult for you,” Fife stated as Julie closed the distance. “Do you not like feeling helpless, Starriace?”
“My name is Julie.” she retorted. An invisible wave hit her in the head, right where her headache blossomed. Biting back her curses and retaliation with conjury of her own, she amended, “My name is Julie, Master.”
He nodded at her and paced casually, his short legs making his movements minute. Now that Julie stood fully erect–which wasn’t tall–she noticed Fife only came up to the top of her thigh. “Your name is Starriace, and I shall only call you so. Should I not call you by your true name?”
With Fife speaking Myshku as a foreign language, and the ache erupting in her head, she didn’t bother arguing with him.
Call me whatever you want, little man. My name is Julie, and you can’t change that!
Instead, she said, “You are my Master, and you may call me what you wish.”
Fife’s eyes flickered for a moment, doubting her honesty. “Shall we begin?”
He sat with legs crossed and waited. When the student didn’t mirror him, he commanded, “Sit.” Julie complied without responding.
I don’t have to call you Master when I don’t respond.
“You are going to have a difficult time if you lack mastery of humility, Starriace. This simple act of submission and obedience inherently creates a sense of discipline and respect.” He closed his eyes and Julie warily followed suit. “I wake all my apprentices the same way, causing them to knock their heads and get headaches to teach them their first lesson; but you are a slow learner, so you will receive several lessons today, is that not so? Rumigul is about the power of the mind, and yours is hurting, is it not? Before you turn your magic outward, you must first turn it inward. Clear your mind except my voice and your pain. Sense where it ends, how far it stretches, where your brain ends and your skull begins. Follow the pulse, the throb, can you do that, Starriace?”
Julie followed Fife’s instruction while ignoring the name he called her, tracing the edges of her misery. She suffered the throbbing of her skull, reaching all the way to her eyes. The ache reminiscent of staying awake for an entire day and allowed a two-hour nap as a reprieve. At last, she traced the entire area of her headache. “Yes, I can.”
“Now visualize it.”
“How, master?”
“As anything you wish. You possess an imagination, do you not?”
Julie repressed a sigh and imagine her pain as a ball of bright, white light, which hurt her eyes. “I have done so.”
“What do you envision?”
“A ball of white light.”
“Ah, white light, very good. Most people think of it as a light, but white is good, isn’t it? Blinding and painful to stare at, just like the suns. Darken it.”
“How?”
“Imagine your light like that of the sky, darkening as the sun sets. Darken it and your torment will recede.”
So Julie darkened the white light, changing from blinding white to a darker shade of gray. Immediately she distinguished a reduction of discomfort to a more tolerable level, but still it lingered.
“Now that you darkened the light, picture a cloud of steam from boiling water. As it rises from the water, it disappears. Separate your malady, fantasize steam.”
She did as instructed, imagining the now gray light as mist, watching it dissipate the further it went from the source. Again, the ache yielded. The smog dissipated within the bubble where the light had been, only a slight twinge remained.
“Now make your bubble small.” Fife instructed.
Julie shrank the bubble, collapsing it until the last of her headache gone.
“Is it that simple?” she exclaimed. The invisible force rapt her on the head. “Ow–is it that simple, Master?”
“For headaches, yes. I foresee you having a great deal more while you are here, Starriace.”
Julie’s lips twisted slightly, but otherwise remained silent.
“Defend yourself!” Fife roared, surprisingly loud for such a small being. He leaped to his feet, twirling his staff as it caught aflame, slamming the end into the ground. A wall of flame racing towards Julie. She let out a yelp as the fire closed and dove to the side. The fire went past as she rolled up to her feet, fumbling for her wand. Once free, the limited repertoire of spells flew across the distance. Fife batted them away with the flick of his hand. “Do better, child!”
An invisible fist hit Julie in the chest, lifting her up off her feet. She landed hard on her tailbone and rolled up backward. Her hair splayed in a mess as she hurriedly brushed it out of her eyes. A ball of ice formed in the Gnomling’s hand and he launched at her. The icy sphere smashed her in the chest, driving the wind from her lungs. A detectable crack, her ribs breaking from the impact. A deep cold raced down her body.
“You are half trained and poorly educated, Starriace.” he intoned as she sucked in a desperate breath. Flame rose from his palm like a flickering inferno, launching pebble size balls of fire. Still gasping, Julie ran sideways, trying to outrun the searing volley. She dove behind a willow to catch her breath.
“Do you think a tree will
stop an attack?” he chided her. A loud crack resonated at Julie’s back; splinters festered along her spine, her scalp blazed with fire from shrapnel. The wood groaned. A quick check told her that Fife blasted the tree with energy, shattering the trunk. Another groan and it started to topple, falling towards her. She dove, the tree missing her by mere inches. A sharp ache punctured her ribs as she rolled up to her feet.
Fife, over ten meters away, swept his stick in front of him, mimicking the effects of sweeping her legs out underneath her, and Julie toppled backward, her head bouncing off the ground. Head pounding, she rolled over, facing Fife. With a sneer, she muttered a curse, hoping to catch him off guard. Again, Fife motioned with his hand. Instead of batting it away, he sent it back at her, the curse rebounding off Julie’s chest. Red fell over her gaze, her body burning in distress. Blood seeped from her scalp, running into her eyes, courtesy of the splinters of the exploding tree.
“Are you so weak that you can not defend yourself, Starriace?” he asked sincerely. But to her ears, it sounded like mockery.
I hate you! the voice screamed.
Resentment welled up inside her, a lashing beast wanting to claw its way out of her throat. She struggled to her feet, dodging an additional wave of energy, more from stumbling luck than skill. Rage rose as blood trickled from her nose. Without conscious thought or incantation, she lashed out. The spell erupted from her wand, intent on annihilating the Grand Maghai. The ground ripped, churned, in the invisible wake. Fife waved his hands down into the ground, the energy subsiding, killing her attack.
“Better. But you are relying on your hate, are you not?” He motioned with his hand, and Julie felt a sudden jolt shoot up her left arm, a small rock the size of her fist struck the ground at her feet. “Hate is a good motivator, Starriace, but fear is even greater. You do not properly understand your abilities. You do not fear.”
His had moved again, but this time, in an upward motion, lifting Julie into the air. The wand slipped from her fingers, her feet two meters from the ground. Hands struggled for her neck; the air constricted as he held her. “You should be very afraid, Starriace. Fear begets respect.”
Whether a lack of air or the sound of Fife’s voice, panic shot through her. The pulse of her heart thundered in her ears, her lungs raw and scorched. Still, he held her as purple colored her face and veins manifesting like spiderwebs in her forehead.
He intends to kill me, she realized. Undeniable terror reached her eyes.
Fife stirred. “There’s the fear.” With an overhand motion of his rod, Julie plummeted to the ground.
Julie gasping for breath, sitting up in a rush, her legs still crossed. Hands flew to her face and came away clean, no trace of blood. Even her hair, which should be unkempt from the fight, remained neat and tidy. Though no physical injuries manifested, the soreness throbbed, real. Across from her, Fife opened his eyes and stood, using his staff for support.
“We didn’t fight?” Julie gasped. A quick rapt across her skull reminded her of protocol.
“No, we did not, Starriace. Would you have preferred that? Destroying my yard in a scuffle is not the best method to teach you, yes?”
“I hurt all over.”
“Another lesson, yes? Learn how to ease your pain.” He waddled back to his hut when he stopped and turned to her. “You did well when you quit muttering incantations like a fool. Rumigul mages use the mind, not the mouth.” Julie winced as she repositioned. “Tend to your wounds,” he said, leaving her to apply earlier lessons, easing the spasms throughout her body.
The next morning, Fife Doole stood outside his house, his stick twirling lazily in his hands, waiting for her arrival. She emerged from the hut at a slow pace, exhaustion oozing from her. All night she healed the ‘wounds’ inflicted by their battle of minds, forgoing sleep. She had yet to eat, dressing slowly with her sore muscles screaming in protest.
Fife didn’t speak when she stopped in front of him. She shifted her weight, hiding her discomfort and her indifference in an eye roll. Julie hadn’t taken an immediate liking to Fife. His unorthodox methods, relentless demand for deference, and Myshku not being his primary language, annoyed her to no end. The words he spoke were curt, brash, but his tone denied such prejudice. In the sole day she spent with him, he taught her many things in one exercise, primarily awe and dread. Fleetingly, while Fife held Julie by the throat, she thought he meant to kill her.
He could have, with ease, too.
That was the most intimidating part. When Julie accompanied Judas, she had known he was powerful, yet he never displayed or flaunted his brilliance. In fact, he went out of his way not to do magic. The Grand Maghai, bred from different stock, defeated her with an ease that belied his skill.
No, he didn’t defeat me. He kicked my ass!
His skill and prowess, realized in a blatant display, pulled the wool over her eyes. She thought the fight real instead of in her head. Another articulation arising from her devastating defeat: the awareness of being on the losing end, a place she never wanted to be again. Her pride was just as bruised as her body. Despite her helplessness against Mr. Pleasure, he merely dominated her; Fife confronted her with her wand at the ready, alert and observant, which made her defeat all the more terrifying. She noted the difference between the two: being helpless and attempting, or just finding yourself helpless.
With reflection, she reconciled the difference in lessons, magical versus without. In a minor aspect, she learned to heal. Removing aches and swelling of muscle, and bruised bones took time and energy. He had shown her the door, as Judas always said, but Julie twisted the knob, and Fife kicked her through. She struggled with the lesson, but the benefit outweighed her efforts.
Perhaps there is something to this out-of-the-box teachings, she grudgingly admitted.
Fife raised an eyebrow.
She needed to attain mastery under him, but she didn’t have to like him. Rusem’s ring crept back into her mind. I could just leave… “Good morning, master.”
“A morning of goodness to you as well.” He pulled on his shaggy beard. “Today, we memorize a new lesson: respect. What do you think that means, Starriace?”
I have so many answers for you, little man.
Julie remained silent until she found a satisfactory answer. “Submission to an elder, letting the elder have the right of way or letting them speak and not interrupting.”
“Wrong!” Fife Doole said in a stern voice. “… and correct. But I am not talking about reverence for people but of things.”
“Calling people by their correct names, Master?” she replied pointedly.
“No, name is the wrong type of thing. Trying again with less attitude is better, don’t you agree?”
Julie took a deep breath, pondering what the gnomling wished to hear. His instructional method differed from all she experienced thus far, a practical application compared to Judas’ by-the-tome-while-on-the-run approach, and Rusem’s freely given knowledge. The latter appealed to her more than she cared to admit, but she had scruples about effortless attainment. The warlock’s method would be better suited for a classroom environment. Still, she took an immediate disliking to Fife.
If I don’t ever try to learn to submit, I will never get anything out of his training.
Thinking back over her journey, a brief flash of the innkeeper in Far Point came into mind. “I would say religion. You never know if theirs is the correct one or not. Also, showing disrespect to the religion can create a great deal of enemies.”
“True. Though not having consideration for a religion can’t kill you, unless, of course, you offend the zealots,” he said, adjusting the rod in his hand. “I am talking about respect for magic, Starriace. Was it so difficult? It will kill you faster than all else, either by someone using against you, or your improper use. Always appreciate what you can do with it and what it can do to you, yes? It is best not to forget that you do not control it, agreed? Magic allows you to use, direct, and channel, but never dominate. Abs
olute dominion is not impossible, but not plausible. Not unless … ” he trailed off and looked at her. “You would dedicate more years than you have to obtain that level. Now, child, how powerful does your essence allow you to be?”
“Are you saying I will never gain control, Grand Maghai? Then why waste my time?”
“I did not say you won’t possess an element of control, right? I said ‘that kind of control,’ do you not remember? Clean out your ears, Starriace!” She listened as Fife repeated his first question again. “How powerful does your essence allow you to be?”
“As powerful as it lets you, I suppose, Master.”
“No, no. Not what you can tap into because anyone can tap into the bottomless well, right? It’s the abilities already in you. What you are born with.”
“I do not know, Master,” she said, suddenly intrigued the gnomling might show her a secret about endless potential at her disposal.
“Before you can tap into the well, you must find out where your limits are and learn to expand beyond. You feel your essence but you do not hold sway. It requires a constant struggle, do you understand? There is no quick, easy way, but every day you must stretch beyond, for the rest of your life.”
“How, Master? How would I expand what I am?”
“First, you must recognize how much you truly are.”
Fife touched her hand, showing Julie her essence, the one born to her. The process, slow at first with meanings lost in translation, but eventually Julie figured out what the Grand Maghai tried to accomplish. Essentially, everyone is born with an inherent ability, just like everyone is born with a soul. The best way to describe the essence was to imagine it as a soul. Unseen, but acknowledged, within their bodies. Julie’s task was to find hers.
Fife, once again, began the period of instruction and then wandered off to fiddle with the experiments he loved to tinker with. Under the rising and falling suns, Julie spent hours sitting, sweating, searching in vain. Dusk set and Julie failed to find her aura without guidance. Fife returned to her, lugging a large wooden bucket.
“The last sunset, I shall sleep now. You shall not, nor shall you have food until you complete your task. It is very important that you do not sleep, no matter what!” He placed a bucket down beside her filled with water. “Drink as much as you like, but do not eat, understand? Keep searching for your essence.”