The Magic, Warped

by Rick Field

  Liane opened her eyes, horror sketching itself across her face. She remembered now. She remembered how the Lord Fylian Earthworker had insulted her, her and her Proctor. She remembered asking for an apology and not receiving one, and finally, she remembered how she had retaliated with words, as had been expected of her. And the Lord Fylian Earthworker had not taken it well, and had challenged her to a duel.

  Liane remembered asking Milor to be her second. She had done what the Decorum demanded she do to protect her own honor and the honor of her Proctor, and had arrived at the duel, nervous and shaking, yet determined to see things through. Had she not shown up, it would have been the height of cowardice.

  Fylian had asked Florindra as his second, and Liane recalled the look of expectation on her rival's face, hopeful that Liane would end up perishing.

  The Lord Master had arrived to adjudicate the duel, as was his duty, and she and Fylian had taken their places, their seconds standing back, ready to intervene in the case of a breach of the dueling code, or ready to intervene should either combatant forego honor, and attempt to flee.

  They had squared off, she remembered. He had drawn his sword, and she had mocked him. She was a second year Assistant, tied to the strongest mage present among the student body of the Academy, and she was a master of the element of metal thanks to the first year Elemental Magic courses. She had mocked him, and drawn the metal from his blade, turned it into tiny metal spheres and set them to spin in front of her, in a steady pattern, ready to be called into action at her command.

  He had drawn on magics she hadn’t known existed, the arts of the Warlock, and she had been on the defensive ever since. She remembered trying to get away, yet failing, and needing to draw the metal into a protective shield before her. And it had failed, in the end.

  Knowing that death was approaching, she had lifted her hands and screamed out when her magic responded in kind, pain searing through her chest as her magic and the attacking spell battled it out, the backlash ripping the cloth off her arm up to her shoulder, yet leaving her focus glove intact.

  That was when she had passed out, apparently.

  “I lost,” she muttered to herself. “Oh, no, I lost.”

  Time slipped her by as she stared at her empty hands, trying to come to grips with what had happened. She lost. Her Proctor was going to hate her. Cassandra was going to break their bond, Liane was sure of it. She would be dishonored, cast out, forced to go through the Academy on her own, for everyone to see how she was one of the few who had been cast out by their Proctors.

  The door opened, and Liane looked up, seeing her Proctor enter, her face schooled in a coldly neutral look that predicted nothing good for Liane. Calmly, the older girl strode over to the nurse, and spoke a few tightly controlled words. The nurse left without comment, and Cassandra turned to the door, casting a series of privacy and locking spells on it. The door’s edges blended into the wall.

  Her work done, Cassandra turned and walked to her Assistant’s bed, staring down at the girl, her eyes devoid of emotion, yet subtle tangles of wind playing through her hair. Cassandra was mistress of the air, and judging from the way her hair floated in impossible winds, her rage was about to be legendary. She did not speak.

  Liane swallowed compulsively, even though her throat was dry. The silence grew lengthy and oppressive. “Proctor?” she finally ventured, her voice tiny.

  “Assistant,” Cassandra replied, levelly. Liane shivered. Her Proctor was scary when angered, and Liane had never seen her look like this at her before. The silence returned, becoming stifling within a matter of moments.

  “I’m sorry, Proctor,” Liane whispered.

  Cassandra did not speak for ten long seconds. “You have dishonored yourself, and so you have dishonored me. Already, people are calling into question my own results, my knowledge, my abilities, and my methods of teaching you. Thankfully, I am still the highest-ranking mage among the student population – they did not question my abilities for very long. However, it is you who has placed me in this position, Assistant.”

  “I’m sorry, Proctor,” Liane repeated herself.

  “You allowed a single worthless Warlock to defeat you. You started out well – using your mastery of metal to take away his sword was good strategy. Why did you feel it necessary to give an unnecessary explanation on how you did it, and why did you not follow up immediately with something to put him down?

  “I don't know, Proctor,” Liane whispered, looking down at her sheets, unable to lift her head and look at Cassandra.

  “Look at me, Assistant. I will not have you look away.” Liane looked up. She felt like crawling into the nearest hole. Never before had Cassandra scared her. Not like this. “It is called 'hubris', Assistant, and it is what nearly got you killed.”

  The young girl swallowed. “Yes, Proctor.” Each passing second, she felt smaller and smaller. Right now, she felt like a particularly small mouse – and was rapidly approaching the insect world. Cassandra wasn't just angry. She was furious. Liane could feel it with each passing second, as the air in the room responded to her Proctor's raging emotional fury.

  “Now, Assistant. What can you tell me that you did wrong?”

  Liane gulped. “I spoke during the duel, Proctor?”

  “Yes, hubris. That was a mistake, as I already told you. But I asked, what was your first mistake?” the older girl demanded.

  “I... don't know, Proctor?”

  An angry sound, halfway between a growl and a scream, erupted from Cassandra's throat, and she threw her hands up. “You did not call me, Assistant! You did not allow me even the honor of knowing my Assistant was involved in a duel, and you did not even come to me for advice! Worse, you made me find out when the Proctor-Assistant bond flared with your pain, and then forced me to track down your friend! Thankfully, he was most accommodating with his information regarding the duel.”

  Liane was not allowed time to react as Cassandra once again focused her angry glare on the young girl. “What made you think you could match strength with a Warlock? And where did you go wrong there?”

  The girl tried to order her thoughts. “I... tried to escape, Proctor. But he pinned me down. I cast the shield, and tried to hold out, but I could not move.”

  “Your inexperience shows, Assistant,” Cassandra snapped. “Did you think about this, for example?” A wave of the older girl's hand showed an image in breath and smoke. It was Liane's shield, but configured into a conical shape rather than a flat shield. “This would have diverted energy rather than try and block it. You might have lasted longer than him using this rather than a flat disc.”

  Liane gulped. “T-thank you, Proctor,” she whispered; sure now that this would be the final lesson she would ever receive from her beloved Proctor. She was going to be cast out now. She would be lucky to graduate as a Mage, let alone go for a mastership, the way she had originally hoped. She'd never have an Assistant of her own. She was going to be alone... completely alone.

  “You allowed him to overwhelm you, Assistant,” Cassandra spoke, some of her fury having spent itself with the playing winds and the smoke-image. “How am I expected to forgive you for the disgrace you have brought upon not only yourself but me as well?”

  Liane refused to cry, even though she could feel tears pricking at her eyes. “I cannot, Proctor,” she whispered, feeling the doom encroach upon her.

  Cassandra gave a sharp nod. “Then we are in agreement, Assistant.”

  Liane looked up. “When will you cast me out, Proctor?” she asked softly, voice cracking, her eyes filling up with tears. “I... I must ask the L-Lord Master f-for a new r-room.”

  Cassandra remained silent and standing, then sighed, and sat in the only chair next to Liane’s bed. “Pray tell, Assistant, what gave you the idea that I would cast you out?”

  The young assistant just stared at her, unable to believe what she was hearing. “I will not cast you out, Assistant,” Cassandra finally said. “You survived a direct strike with D
eath Magic, and only suffered a destroyed sleeve. That blow was a finishing move, and would have killed anyone it hit directly. That you not only survived, but survived without any major injuries has opened quite a few eyes at the Academy.” She stood up, and waved her hand, making two books shimmer into existence.

  “Instead, I will hold a small lesson in the basics of magic, explain how things will be different from now on, and leave you with some reading material and a few tasks I wish you to complete. From now on, your life of leisure will be over.” The young girl gulped once again. They had been working for twelve to fourteen hours a day. How could this be a 'life of leisure'?

  “Do you recall your first lessons in magic, Assistant? Do you remember what spells are?”

  The younger girl nodded. “Yes, Proctor. Spells are a crutch that will teach us to walk upright, but it is up to us to walk and run by ourselves.”

  “As always, your memory is impeccable, Assistant. Do you understand what it means, however?” Cassandra asked, in full teacher mode, striding back and forth at the end of Liane's bed now.

  “It means we will learn to cast magic without words, Proctor?” Liane half-asked and half-stated.

  “Correct, Assistant. The first step in this is usually done for us. The spell is written down in a book, we learn its theory, and we learn to use it. The more advanced under us learn how to build our own spells. You, however, do not have this advantage. Due to your handicap, every spell you use, you have to build for yourself. This is the first change. From now on, you will no longer be making your declination circles on paper. You will be doing them in your mind, and only write them down after they are completed, for future reference. No longer will you spend fifteen or twenty minutes writing down notes on how to make a spell work – doing it from memory will be a lot quicker.”

  The young Assistant swallowed, realizing why Cassandra had decided her life of leisure would be over. She had tried doing it in her head before, but it had taken a long time and had resulted in a lot of errors. “The second thing that will change is what we do. I have allowed you to work on your homework for Elemental Studies, then asked for no more help than you fetching me books. The rest of the time you have spent working on declination circles and reading fiction. Instead, I will give you books, and you will read them. After you are done, I will interrogate you about them. You have an excellent memory. I intend to make it even better.”

  Liane stared at her Proctor. “P-Proctor...”

  “You will read, Assistant. While you are in the hospital, I will bring you books, and you will read them. The next day, I will take them away and leave others in their place. When you are released from here, I will interrogate you about them. We will start using that memory of yours until it is a finely honed athame, and you will enjoy it.” Cassandra stopped to stare Liane in the eyes. “And if you do not enjoy it, you will learn to enjoy it. Those are my conditions, Assistant. You have dishonored yourself and you have dishonored me. You have the potential to become a formidable Mage, with that memory and intellect of yours. Now it is my responsibility to bring that out.”

  The young girl swallowed, and nodded, looking at the books her Proctor had brought with her. It would be a lot of hard work. She just hoped that she would live up to her Proctor's expectations, now that she had been such a major disappointment.

  Cassandra gave one last, sharp, nod, and turned to leave. “Proctor?” Liane's whisper made the older girl stop, and looked over her shoulder at Liane. “Assistant?”

  “Do you hate me, Proctor?” she asked, her voice tiny.

  “I do not hate you, Assistant. I am, however, extremely disappointed in your actions and your behavior. Pray tell, what made you insult a Warlock to the point where he would call you out?”

  “He insulted me, my disabilities, and he insulted you, Proctor.” She looked at the sheets. “I asked him to retract his statements, but he didn’t. I couldn’t let him insult you.”

  Cassandra turned back, and lifted Liane’s head. “At least you did so for the right reasons, Assistant. Lift your head. You have survived a duel that usually kills one of the participants. Next time, you will be victorious.”

  “Thank you, Proctor,” Liane said. The older girl merely dipped her head once, turned, and waved at the door to dispel her myriad of spells, before stepping out. The nurse came in almost immediately. Liane ignored her, grabbing the first of the two books. She had a lot of studying to do. Her Proctor was angry and disappointed in her, but she wasn’t going to be cast out, and had a chance to make amends. And making amends was just what she was going to do!

  Putting the book on her lap, she grabbed the focus gloves and slipped them on. Even though she wouldn't be casting magic, they helped to put her in the correct frame of mind. She started reading, not noticing the time slipping away as she focused on the text, trying to force her memory to absorb the words so that she would be able to pass the test her Proctor would pose her later.

  It was probably a few hours later when she was interrupted from her reading by a new visitor, one she had not expected.

  “Good afternoon, My Lady,” Milor said as he entered, a small box in his hands.

  “Good afternoon, My Lord,” Liane whispered, not sure how to address her friend. Truthfully, she had not expected to see him again before she was released, and had fully expected him to avoid her even after that.

  He opened the box, placing it on her nightstand. “I have brought you some fruit, My Lady. I believe these are your favorites.”

  Liane blinked at the juicy pears. She loved pears. “I love them, My Lord,” she whispered, looking up at him. “Thank you.”

  “May I ask how you are feeling, My Lady?” He asked, sitting down in the one chair next to her bed. She tried not to remember how her Proctor had used that chair a few hours ago, and the new imperatives she had been given.

  Liane sighed slightly. “I am feeling... disappointed, and afraid, My Lord.”

  “I was referring to your physical condition, My Lady,” he said with a faint quirk of his lips. “May I ask why you feel so?”

  She gripped her sheets. “I am fine, physically, My Lord. My body hurts, and I feel weak, but it is nothing compared to the other feelings.” Liane glanced at him. “I am surprised you came to visit, My Lord,” she finally said, totally ignoring his question as to why she felt the way she did.

  He looked honestly surprised. “May I ask why it is surprising that I come to visit you, My Lady?” The tone and phrasing of the question showed her that he, too, was uncomfortable. He always reverted to full Decorum when uncomfortable.

  “I have failed you just as much as I failed my Proctor. I lost the duel, and have shamed both myself and my Proctor, My Lord,” the young Assistant answered, honestly. “And thus, I find it surprising that My Lord would come to visit.”

  “I see,” Milor replied, nodding to himself. “It may not be what Decorum demands, nor would it be what honor demands. However, I do believe it is what friendship demands, and thus I come to visit, My Lady.”

  Surprised, she looked at him, and for the first time since waking up in the hospital, a faint smile appeared on her lips. “Thank you, My Lord.”

  “Friendship needs no thanks, My Lady. However, you are welcome,” he replied with a faint chuckle. “May I ask what you are reading?” he asked, motioning to the two tomes left behind by Cassandra.

  “Proctor left them for me, My Lord. She is... most upset with me, and has stated that she will redouble my education.” Her fingers clenched the sheets tightly. “I believe that she hates me, even though she has assured me that she does not. I have shamed her. How could she not?”

  “And thus, you explain why you feel afraid and disappointed,” Milor said gently. “I do not believe your Proctor hates you, My Lady. As she will redouble your educational progress, it means that she has no intentions of either letting you fail or negating the Proctor-Assistant bond.”

  “It is possible that she does not wish to negate the bond so she i
s not shamed further, My Lord,” Liane whispered, shrinking in on herself. “Negating the bond would signify failure on her part, and Proctor does not like to fail.”

  “Then why go through the extra effort of redoubling your education, My Lady?” Milor asked. “After all, it would be much simpler on her part to just let you go on, and declare you ready to graduate in a year and a half without going through all the extra effort required to help you.”

  “I do not know, My Lord,” Liane whispered sadly. “However, Proctor was most displeased, and I do not believe this is a sort of shame I can easily live down, nor honestly expect forgiveness for.”

  “Mistakes were made, My Lady, however, mistakes are meant to be learned from. May I ask what you have learned from this?”

  She blinked, and looked up at him. She hadn’t looked at it like that before. She had been striving for perfection so much that she failed to recognize the significance of failure. What had she learned from this? Liane looked at the books. Knowledge by itself, and magic by itself, could not win battles. They would not make her strong. Wisdom was required, mastery of the elements was required, being able to adapt was required... and she needed to learn how to use those skills in battle if she ever wanted to become truly strong.

  Slowly, Liane looked back to her visitor, who had politely remained silent as she thought things through. “I require more than just knowledge of spells and being able to make them work, My Lord,” Liane said. “I need to learn how to master the various elements called up by the magic. I need to learn how to apply those skills – especially in combat – if I ever want to truly be able to defend myself.”

  Milor nodded silently as he listened to her speak. “I had forgotten that was your goal, My Lady,” he finally said. “I believe that your Proctor will be working on those skills.”

  “Apart from the combat, My Lord,” Liane replied. “May I ask a hypothetical question?”

  Milor lifted an eyebrow. “You may ask, My Lady,” he said, sounding intrigued, and Liane found herself mildly envious of the gesture, one she had seen the Lord Master use on multiple occasions, but one she had never mastered herself.