by Rick Field
This time, she charged a different spell, and as he stepped forward, aiming his sword at her side, Liane did not dodge. The air between them solidified, trapping Milor's sword before it could reach her. For just a second, his surprise caused him to lose his focus and jerk on his sword, trying to free it. Her next spell sparked from her fingers to his head.
He flinched as the static washed over him. “Better, My Lady. Better,” he grinned, jerking on his sword. “Where did you learn this spell? I did not believe air was an element you have already studied.”
Liane released her spell with a snap of her fingers and a small word. “Proctor is Cassandra Airmistress, who was very displeased with my inadequate performance in last year's disastrous duel. As part of my penance, I must assist her with her masterpiece.”
“Which, no doubt, is focused heavily on the element of air,” Milor said, nodding. “I understand, My Lady.”
“It also deals quite heavily in Runes, Glyphs, and Magical Symbols, an area I thoroughly enjoy – most probably because it is the only magic I have encountered so far that works for me as it should.” She blinked, and thought about something. “My Lord, may I attempt something I believe that would be to your advantage?”
Milor was silent for a few seconds, before nodding. “I have trust in you, My Lady. What would you wish to attempt?”
“May I borrow your sword for five minutes, My Lord?”
Milor looked down at the sword in its scabbard, debating. Finally, he released the belt holding it around his waist, and he formally presented it to her. “Please return it to me in usable condition, My Lady. The blacksmith appreciates my business, but my purse does not.”
“I continue to apologize for that, My Lord,” Liane said, feeling bad about having cost him half a dozen swords – swords she could not compensate him for. Her stipend would not permit it. Drawing the blade from its holder, she inspected the gleaming silver blade, then sat down with her legs crossed and the scabbard next to her.
Holding the sword in both her hands, she looked at it, drawing a few deep breaths to relax herself after a vigorous hour-long mock-battle against her friend. Before her mind's eye, she built the runic characters she needed, arraying them the way she wanted them. She had done this plenty of times before – something that only her incredible memory allowed her to do.
Under Cassandra's guidance, Liane had been forced to start building her own unique spells, spells that were not modifications of existing spells. Her first spell had, of course, been related to her excellent use of the runic scripts. The arrays built themselves before her mental eye, and she cast her first original spell.
A spell that would inscribe runes onto a surface – any surface – in the shape and size and array she had in mind. The blade before her squeaked as the spell inscribed, rune by rune, the arrays and circles Liane had in mind, Milor watching in silent disbelief while she worked.
Finally, the spell finished. Liane looked the results of her work over. She nodded, flipping the blade over, and repeating the process on the other side. Finally, she nodded once more, deigning her work 'acceptable'.
“Now, to power it,” she muttered to herself. Milor still heard her, yet remained silent when it became obvious that Liane was not finished.
Holding the sword with the blade away from her, so that the handle was prominently in her vision, Liane focused her mind and magic, and startled whispering spells. The handle deformed, changing shape and form and function, before settling into the design Liane needed.
Once more, she nodded, grabbing the cross-guard in one hand, the handle in another, and twisted, unscrewing the handle. It detached easily from the cross-guard, and Liane reached into her robes to pull out a power token. Slipping it into the handle, now that there was room for one, she twisted the handle back on the sword.
The runes and glyphs and magical symbols on the blade flashed once, then died down. The young MagicWarper nodded, then cast a single spell. The runes flashed bright red, before returning to their inert state. A smile appeared on her face.
“No Mage will be able to use the metal of this blade for as long as there is power in the token, My Lord. As an added bonus, the weapon will also be highly resistant to all other forms of magic – although the power token will drain very quickly if you use it for a shield,” she explained as she sheathed the sword and handed it back in the same formal fashion in which she had received it.
Milor accepted it, drew the blade far enough to look at the runes, blinked twice, then looked at her. “You have placed a non-permanently powered enchantment on my blade, My Lady?” he whispered in a tone devoid of emotion.
She felt her heart skip a beat at his tone. “Yes, My Lord?” she asked, unsure of whether he was actually angry or not.
He sheathed it. “I will never comment about the previous swords ever again, My Lady. I thank you from the bottom of my heart,” he said, back straight and head high. “Thank you.”
“Y-you're welcome, My Lord,” she said. Surely, it wasn't that big of a deal, was it? It had taken her ten minutes of work with an inscription spell of her own design, some metal manipulation, and a power token.
“I see you are confused, My Lady,” he said. “Allow me to explain. Enchanted blades, with the same kinds of protections you have so easily given to me, cost one hundred times the price of a regular blade. They're considered heirlooms for a very good reason.” He half-unsheathed the blade, admiring the designs once more. “They take a long time to inscribe, normally.”
“I have designed that spell myself, My Lord. I hold the pattern in my mind, and the spell inscribes it onto the surface I am focusing on. Proctor knows the spell, but is unable to maintain the array in her mind, so she needs to go symbol by symbol, rune by rune. It takes a lot longer that way. I believe it is my memory that allows me to do this,” she explained, glad that he was appreciative of her work.
Milor sheathed the sword. “Your secret will be safe with me, My Lady.”
Liane smiled gratefully. “Thank you, My Lord. It is quite likely I will become a professional enchantress, and I would not like my secrets getting out before I had a chance to use them.”
“I understand completely, My Lady,” her friend answered. “I find myself curious about your Proctor's masterpiece, however.”
“It's an enchanted tank, made of glass, which can display the weather patterns desired by the user, My Lord. A simple breeze, a downpour of rain, all the way up to the most powerful hurricanes,” Liane explained. “I have been studying air and weather quite heavily this past year. Proctor has taken to using my excellent memory to retrieve information rather than spend hours looking up a detail in a book.”
“Quite a challenge,” Milor noted. “Have you been coping with that role, My Lady?”
Liane shrugged it off. “My memory can only improve because of it, My Lord. Perhaps, if you are interested, I could demonstrate the project to you? It is not completely finished yet, so I won't be able to show you the really impressive things that it will be able to do later on.”
Milor didn't need to think about that. After what he'd seen her do to his sword in the space of ten minutes, he wasn't about to pass up an opportunity such as that. “Of course, My Lady. Please show the way.”
Liane kept up a steady explanation of the magic and theories involved as they walked to the rooms she shared with Cassandra. The door opened at her presence, and she showed Milor inside.
“This is it, My Lord,” Liane said, reverently, stepping up to one of the desks. Standing on the surface was a glass tank, the edges of which, where the glass plates connected, were lined with strings of magical symbols. The tank itself rested on a black pedestal, a slanting surface holding more runes which, Milor assumed, would allow the user to demonstrate the various weather patterns inside the tank.
To his surprise, however, the bottom of the tank was filled with sand. “Sand, My Lady?”
Liane nodded, and pressed one rune on the slanting surface of the pedestal. “Thi
s is a gentle breeze, about five kilometers an hour. The wind itself is invisible, but the sand moves, showing that the air inside the tank is indeed moving.”
Milor stared inside, seeing some of the small grains of sand move. “Interesting, My Lady. Very interesting.”
When she pushed another rune, the top of the tank became cloudy, and rain drizzled down, wetting down the sand. One by one, Liane showed Milor through the various settings, including one where the clouds were black as night and lightning flashed.
“The protection runes aren't fully developed yet, My Lord,” Liane explained as she shut down the device. “That is why I did not go beyond a mediocre wind-speed. The wind generates enormous air-pressure, and if we are unable to create the correct protection matrix, we'll shatter the tank.”
“I am very impressed, My Lady,” Milor said, studying the device from all angles. “I do find myself worried about the power required, however.”
“We are using a type B power token, My Lord. The power requirements are indeed substantial,” Liane replied, flipping open an access panel on the back of the pedestal, showing a power token that was about five times the size of a regular token.
“I would be very interested in seeing it when it is finished, My Lady,” Milor said. “It is bound to be impressive when you are able to generate hurricanes and tornadoes.”
“I would be more interested in knowing why you have brought someone here, Assistant,” Cassandra's voice rang from the doorway. “And a boy, at that.”
“I was merely demonstrating your masterpiece to my friend, Proctor,” Liane said, flinching a bit at the hard tone of her Proctor's voice.
Cassandra nodded, then cast a spell at Liane, who suddenly glowed green for half a second. “At least your virtue is still intact, Assistant.”
The young girl blushed spectacularly, feeling mortified. She looked at the walls, the floors, the ceiling, everywhere – as long as she didn't need to look at her Proctor or her friend, who was blushing as hard as she was.
“Really, Assistant, bringing a boy to your room. Quite forward of you,” Cassandra added in. Turning to Milor, she said, “I hope My Lord can forgive my forward nature, but I needed to chastise my Assistant for being quite foolish.”
Liane could only glance at her friend. “O-of course, My Lady,” Milor muttered in reply, blushing as hard as Liane was. “It was my error. I asked about the masterpiece, and when I was invited for a viewing, I did not stop to consider the consequences.”
“My foolish young Assistant should have known better than to bring a boy to our rooms, My Lord,” Cassandra waved his concern off. “It is not proper for a young lady and a young gentleman to be in the young lady's private rooms without proper supervision.”
“Proctor! We're twelve!” Liane protested.
“All the more reason, Assistant. Your hormones should start kicking in. Remember our discussion about growing up?” Cassandra asked, lifting an eyebrow.
Liane's blush, which had been receding, returned to full vengeance as she recalled the lecture about growing up, and all other kinds of grown-up things. “Now, what reason did you have to discuss my masterpiece? I'm sure you should know that such research is supposed to be kept secret?”
“I did My Lord a favor,” Liane began to explain. She motioned to Milor's sword. “My Lord, may I?”
Milor just nodded, grabbed the scabbard, and pulled it out for her. She reached over, and drew the sword. “I enchanted My Lord's sword, which got us talking about the magical symbols, and the spell I developed for rapid inscription, which in turn brought us to your masterpiece. I'm sorry, Proctor. I should not have...”
Cassandra stopped her with a wave of her hand, and looked the sword over. “Excellent work, Assistant. The arrays are configured perfectly for a defense against metal manipulation. The sword will also be highly resistant to other schools of magic, although not as efficiently as it will be against metal manipulation. Excellent work.” She looked up, and motioned for Liane to return Milor's sword.
“Now, I believe My Lord will have to leave. We need to get ready for Elemental Magic,” the older girl finished. Milor nodded, bid his goodbyes, and fled as fast as he could without making it appear as if he were actually fleeing.
“Proctor...” Liane whispered.
“It is one of the advantages of being a Proctor,” Cassandra said, dropping onto her bed with a satisfied smile, “to be able to embarrass your Assistant when she is caught with her first boyfriend.”
“My Lord is my friend!” Liane screeched.
Cassandra just chuckled.
“You're mean, Proctor,” the young girl muttered as she sat down on her own bed.
“And you have a boyfriend, Assistant,” the older girl replied, chuckling again when Liane huffed and turned her back to Cassandra. “Come, Assistant. You can pout during Elemental Magic.”
Liane gave no verbal reply as she grabbed her books and utensils and put them in her bag. Elemental Magic would at least allow her to get rid of some frustration.
*****
Cassandra walked through the entrance gate of the Kirian Academy of Magic, knowing, even without drawing on the bond, where her wayward third-year Assistant would be. Crossing the road, she turned and looked at the younger girl, who was, once more, studying the entrance to the school.
“Am I required to remind you what day it is, Assistant?” Cassandra asked, injecting just a tiny note of amusement into her voice, while glancing down at the small notebook Liane was noting things in.
“I am aware what day it is today, Proctor,” Liane replied with the same tone. Her Decorum was improving.
She looked up at her Proctor. “Do you know what signs these are, Proctor? I have been unable to find any reference to them. Maybe I have missed something,” she then said, holding out the notebook in which she had been writing the symbols she was studying.
Despite herself, Cassandra took the notebook, and glanced at the list of symbols – all of which were unknown to her. “Sometimes I wish I had your skill at reading these signs while active, Assistant,” she said. “Unfortunately, I don't know those symbols either, and I am quite certain that I haven't seen them before.”
Liane nodded to herself, as if confirming her thoughts. “That's unfortunate, Proctor,” she whispered. “I had hoped to finally find out for certain what they mean.” She flipped a few pages in the notebook Cassandra was still holding.
“I think I was able to deduce their meaning from the context, however,” Liane went on. The same symbols were repeated and more runes were there to present the context, as well as a likely interpretation.
Cassandra was silent for ten long minutes as she read through the page. “I cannot find fault with your theories, Assistant. Unfortunately, I can't confirm them right now. More research would be required.” She handed the notebook back. “I am here to make sure you are present, and on time. Please accompany me.”
Liane gave an almost imperceptible sigh, closed her notebook, filed everything away, and nodded. “I am ready, Proctor.”
“Good,” Cassandra said, walking back to the Academy, Liane half a pace behind her right shoulder, her proper spot as an Assistant. She had learned much these last three years – especially after her first, botched, duel, and Cassandra had taken it upon herself to make sure the horrid performance would not be repeated.
Being an Assistant, yet forced to act as if at Master Level, had made Liane deduce things for herself, think things through, and look behind the words spoken to her.
Cassandra was a truly frightening person when angered, and those first few months after Liane’s disastrous duel she had been nearly constantly angry. Liane had been pushed harder and faster than she had wanted to go, but had been forced to go.
As they entered the room they had shared for the last three years, Liane became acutely aware that this would be the last time they would do so. Cassandra had been awarded her mastership yesterday, and today she would stand before the jury and defend her Ass
istant, proclaiming her ready to graduate.
Liane swallowed. “Proctor?” she asked, even though they were in private and would usually revert to a more relaxed form of Decorum.
“Yes, Assistant?” Cassandra replied, answering in kind.
“Thank you for everything, Proctor. I would not be who and what I am today without you,” the younger girl replied, taking a deep breath against the welling emotions – and the push of her magic, trying to change her emotional control. She disliked how her magic, ever increasing in strength, was pushing her ever more. “I also would like to... once more... apologize for my near disastrous duel last year. I shamed and dishonored you, and hope that, in time... you will be able to forgive me.”
Cassandra was silent, and looked at her Assistant for close to thirty seconds, seconds the younger girl started to fidget in. “Sit down, Assistant,” she finally said, sitting down on her well-made bed, and motioning for the free space on it for her assistant to sit on.
Liane sat.
“Assistant,” Cassandra began, then corrected herself. “Liane. For the last three years you have been my Assistant. You have helped me with my work, helped me study, and helped me research. You were there when I needed to speak, and you were there when I didn’t. You were a brilliant student, able to pick up on things with half a word and a small application of magic. True, for the first part of our time together, you focused on your magic to the detriment of everything else, culminating in you nearly getting yourself killed – while managing to limit the damage to the honor of both yourself and myself.”
Liane shrank in on herself. “However,” Cassandra went on, “I corrected my teaching methods, forcing you to behave as an Assistant of a Master-level student ought to behave. I made you think, rather than read and accept what was told to you. I quizzed you constantly, and I made you do the exercises I, myself, had to make. And even though you hated me for it, it has made you the best I could make you, and I believe I have upheld my statement of making you into a formidable mage – a fact I hope will be apparent next year, when you will be officially graded.”