Marin's Codex

by Benjamin Medrano

  Christoff was the only one of their group who managed to sprout the seed, and the man sat back, obviously intrigued by the possibility of apprenticing under another half-elf. Emonael looked at her pot sourly, not having gotten the slightest reaction in the ten minutes the woman had given them.

  Last of all was Larin Windsong, and the blond-haired elven man was a shock, even to Emonael. The other students stopped what they were doing when the thin man walked into the room, his skin powdered white and his outfit exquisitely tailored in white and blue. The man had looked over them, then sighed, shaking his head slowly as if suffering, then had instructed them through a simple spell used to make a minor breeze flow through the room.

  Emonael had managed the spell, as had two other students, but even so, Larin hadn’t stayed long, sniffing derisively as he finally nodded to himself and left, ignoring them in the end.

  At that point, a half dozen more magi entered the room to make presentations to smaller groups of students, but Emonael sat back and relaxed a little, letting out a sigh.

  “That was . . . interesting on the whole. What type of magic are you going to go with, Damiya?” Emonael asked, then smiled at Christoff and added. “You too, Chris.”

  “I’m not sure. I really like the idea of earth magic, with how difficult it can be to build houses back home, but at the same time I don’t want to be defenseless,” Damiya admitted, toying with a lock of her hair as she sat back in her chair. “I’m kind of tempted to try learning it and fire magic, but I don’t know if I can manage that. They’re different types of magic, after all.”

  “You’re a heck of a lot more ambitious than I am,” Christoff replied, shaking his head. “I’m debating, honestly. If I can keep the seedling alive for the week, I might go with Reesa, since she’s similar to me in some ways, and I can see nature magic being really useful.”

  “That makes sense. What about you, Emonael? Fire magic, since you were doing really good with it?” Damiya asked curiously.

  “I’m not sure, if I’m being honest. While I had a talent for it, that just doesn’t quite feel as fulfilling to me, if that makes any sense,” Emonael replied, frowning as she debated for a moment, thinking back to the discussion of the different teachers from the previous day, then murmured slowly, “I’m actually considering going to meet with the other High Mage, Marin. While the one teacher had a point about her theories being . . . overly fantastic, if they’re true it could be absolutely amazing. I love the idea of learning all the different types of magic.”

  “That . . . are you sure? I mean, I’ve never heard of anyone being able to figure out ways to cast more than two different types of spells. Except for the handful of Archmagi, of course, but they’re legends,” Christoff said, looking nervous as he added, “While I do think it’d be amazing if it’s possible, I can’t help but think that you wouldn’t get far.”

  “I’m not saying I will do it. I’m just saying . . . what if it’s possible? What if she’s right?” Emonael asked, shrugging. “We’re here to learn to wield magic, after all! To become some of the most powerful people in the country! I just can’t imagine seeing a possibility like this and completely ignoring it.”

  “You could be right,” Damiya replied, her voice soft as she thought, then tilted her head. “Do you think you’re going to meet her, then?”

  “Most likely, yes. Talking about it aloud made me realize how interesting I found the idea,” Emonael admitted, though she kept private the faint part of her that deeply hoped that Marin was right. After all, if she was, there was a distinct possibility she could gain a far more potent title among the lower planes than merely being a demon lord of illusions.

  “In that case, I’m coming with you. You’re right, giving up on the idea before even looking at it isn’t good. I shouldn’t jump into the first possible apprenticeship without looking at other options,” Damiya told her, the woman’s eyes growing firmer as she smiled widely. “Are you going to go today?”

  “No, I was thinking tomorrow morning. I’m a little tired from the spell attempts, and who knows what tests Marin might run us through?” Emonael demurred, shaking her head.

  “That’s a good point, as is Damiya’s. Do you mind if I join the two of you?” Christoff asked, turning the pot and looking at the tiny green sprout thoughtfully.

  “You’re more than welcome to come along if Damiya doesn’t mind,” Emonael told him, standing up. “In the meantime, I think I’m going to find lunch.”

  “I’ll join you. And that’s fine with me, Christoff! I’ll feel more comfortable with other people around.” Damiya laughed, shrugging as she added, “I just get nervous when I’m the only person a mage is focusing on.”

  “That might be something you need to work on,” Emonael teased, heading for the door and nodding at another student, giving the pretty woman a smile.

  Despite the danger she’d felt from the High Magi, Emonael couldn’t help but feel that coming to the Association had been an excellent choice.

  Chapter 3

  The approach to Marin’s tower might be overgrown, but as she came closer, Emonael couldn’t help but pause and admire the building, even more impressed than she’d been from a distance.

  “This tower looks like it’s been here for a century, it’s so overgrown;” Damiya complained, looking around in distaste, then blushed. “Sorry, I just don’t like it when plants are so close to buildings. I was always taught to clear them away early on, so they didn’t damage the foundation or walls.”

  “I don’t mind, but you might want to look a little more closely at the building,” Emonael replied, nodding at the structure. “Look at the walls. While they’re a bit dirty, there isn’t a single crack in the stones, and the mortar is solid. I think you’re right about it having been here for a century, but none of the plants have gained a purchase on it. I’m guessing that Marin is more concerned about the building being intact than with making certain it’s pretty.”

  “That would make sense. This looks like the manor was built around an old watch tower, which would make it two centuries old, at a guess,” Christoff added. “That’s when this area was just getting settled, from what I heard in the village.”

  “You may be right. This gets stranger the more I look at the building. Something about it feels odd, and I couldn’t tell you why,” Emonael murmured, looking up at the tower speculatively. The others didn’t speak, and after a moment, she shrugged. “Well, nothing for it, and no point in delaying.”

  Emonael stepped up to the old, weathered, wooden door and used the simple knocker, then folded her hands to wait. A minute passed with no response, and Christoff shifted in place, then asked. “Do you think she heard us? She’s supposed to be the oldest of the High Magi, right?”

  “I asked around a little, and she’s definitely that. One of the magi was saying that she’s close to seven centuries old, if not past that,” Damiya confirmed. “I’m not sure on the details, though. More interestingly, she’s considered one of the most powerful healers on the continent, though she doesn’t get out much anymore.”

  “Probably because she’s focusing on her research. I wonder why they said she was getting close to the end of her lifespan? I’ve heard of elves easily reaching a millennium before . . .” Emonael mused.

  The door opened at that moment, and a woman’s firm, even voice replied. “Because I have a weak body, and I’m well aware I won’t last that long.”

  The elven woman in the door was shorter than Emonael, if only slightly, and she had bright green eyes that almost glowed in the morning light, while her frizzy crimson hair was pulled back into a ponytail that reached near the middle of her back. She was pretty, if in a plain sort of way, and the woman looked them over as Emonael and the others looked back in surprise. Wearing a pair of cotton trousers and a simple blouse, the painfully thin woman looked at them critically. Emonael couldn’t think of someone who looked less like a High Mage.

  “High Mage Marin?” Christoff asked after
a moment, swallowing hard.

  “I believe that the name making the rounds at the moment is ‘Mad Marin,’ but that works well enough,” the woman replied dryly, shaking her head. “Three of you this time? Why is it that prospective apprentices come in swarms? Come in, then. Wipe your feet, if you would. Cleaning takes valuable time.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Damiya replied, her voice almost automatic, and Emonael nodded, stepping into the foyer and wiping her feet carefully on the rug, looking around the sparsely furnished room.

  All of the furniture was strictly functional, and there wasn’t much of it, little more than a few chairs, a sofa, a table, and a rack for coats. A pair of doors led deeper into the manor house, but the room felt odd to her. Almost unlived in, actually. She moved out of the way of the others, and Marin closed the door with a sigh, murmuring, “Still a slight chill in the air, at least for me. Now, take a seat, each of you. We’ll have a brief chat and see if any of you are the right sort of person to assist me.”

  They moved to some of the chairs to take seats, while Marin took one of her own, slowly lowering herself into it with a sigh.

  “Now, first of all, I’m Marin. I don’t bother with a surname or title, so don’t worry about that. I’ve managed to claw my way up to a decent mastery of healing magic, but that is not my focus, and if you’re hoping I’ll turn you into an equally skilled healer, the door is right there,” Marin explained, nodding at the door pointedly. “Now then, introduce yourselves and tell me why you’re here.”

  “Well, I’m Christoff Sormal, and when Emonael said she was going to visit you and see if you might be right about there being underlying rules to magic, I decided she might have a point. I mean, I love the idea of being a mage and some of the types of magic I want to learn are just so different from one another that it’s frustrating being confined to just a single type,” Christoff explained, leaning forward in the chair to put his elbows on his knees. “That’s it, really.”

  Damiya cleared her throat, then looked at Emonael nervously. Emonael let out a soft laugh and spoke up gently. “I think I’ll go next. I’m Emonael Teardrop, and none of the types of magic that have been presented satisfy me. The limitations of them are frustrating and annoying, so the idea that there’s a wider possibility, a chance to expand magic beyond the limits that everyone believes they have . . . that tempts me greatly. If it’s possible, I want to be a part of it.”

  “As for me, I came with Emonael because she was right yesterday. I was just accepting what they said because it’s what they said was right. I have a talent for both earth and fire magic, and I was having trouble choosing between them, but what if I don’t have to choose? What if I can learn nature magic too? That excites me,” Damiya added, her words coming out almost in a rush. “Now, I’m not sure I really want to be your apprentice, not like she does, but I want to hear what you say, not just reject it out of hand.”

  “I see. Well, I will have all of you know that I’m not going to take more than one apprentice at the moment. I simply do not have the time to teach more than one student. Saying that I feel my age creeping up on me would be putting it mildly,” Marin replied, smiling slightly as she leaned forward and continued. “Now, then. Yes, I believe that anyone can use any form of magic, and I have everything put together to perform my final experiments, but even that will likely take the next few years. Realize that I’m not joking about that part at all. It’s going to take boring, exhausting research, but within five years I’ll know whether I’ve wasted my life or not.”

  “Are you sure? I mean—” Damiya began, but her voice cut off as Marin began to cast a spell.

  Compared to every other mage Emonael had seen cast a spell, Marin’s casting was incredibly slow, almost as slow as the ones that had been shown to teach them in the meetings the day before. In addition, there was something about her gestures and the words, a deliberate precision to them that Emonael hadn’t seen from the other magi. The spell was only three gestures, but it took a few moments before it was cast and a small globe of glowing light coalesced above the elf’s hand, and Emonael couldn’t help but stare.

  The light was pure white, without any of the other colors that inevitably crept into light spells she’d seen. She’d never even seen angels get such a pure white color, and she opened her mouth to speak, just as Marin began to cast again.

  This spell was ever so slightly different, yet almost exactly the same. Emonael saw a slight curve to the woman’s fingers this time, a slightly different intonation of her words . . . and the light globe that appeared shed heat and glowed a dull red, like those of many fire magi. And without pause, Marin continued her slow castings, creating a half dozen light spells of different hues and types before she finally stopped, smiling as she leaned back almost breathlessly.

  “There we are. A simple, insignificant light spell. If you went to a dozen magi, you’d get a dozen different ways of casting it, including different words and different results. What did I do to get each of those different globes?” Marin asked, looking over them.

  “I’m . . . I’m not sure, but I thought you pronounced the words slightly differently . . .” Christoff ventured, staring at the light globes in obvious surprise.

  Damiya nodded, adding, “I noticed that, and I think you gestured differently, too. Not much, but some.”

  “Correct. So easy to identify when put in front of you, but so hard to track down to begin with,” Marin agreed, then looked at Emonael, raising an eyebrow. “Did you notice, too?”

  Emonael was looking at the globes, her curiosity piqued, and didn’t answer at first. At last she nodded and sat back, murmuring. “I noticed what you did, and I think I could replicate most of the movements and words. The question is, why did it work that way?”

  “That is the question, isn’t it?” Marin replied, sitting back in satisfaction, her eyes running over the group, then nodded slightly. “If you really want to become my apprentice, any of you, I want you to reproduce any one of these orbs and come back to me to show it. It won’t be easy, but I demonstrated them in sequence, so it shouldn’t be impossible. Then consider that this is the sort of thing you’d be doing day after day.”

  “What? But how are we supposed to do that?” Damiya asked, sitting up straight, her eyes widening in surprise.

  “You’ve already proven to yourself that you’re right, haven’t you?” Emonael asked, causing the other two to shut up just as Christoff was going to speak. “That . . . I’ve never heard of a mage being able to cast that variety of light spells without being a specialized illusionist.”

  Marin smiled, slowly standing up as she nodded, murmuring, “Not a bad supposition, Emonael. You might be a good assistant. However, that’s prying a bit much. You’ll get an answer if you become my apprentice and no sooner. Now then, why don’t the three of you get on your way? I have research to do, and I’m not getting any younger.”

  “As you like. Thank you for your time, High Mage,” Emonael replied, standing up and taking the time to give the woman a deep curtsey, her mind racing as she did so.

  While others might wonder whether the woman was simply toying with them, she knew far too much about reading body language, and the sheer, relaxed confidence of Marin was shocking to her. When she’d decided to meet with Marin, it’d been more on a whim than because she actually thought the woman was on the right path. Yet she didn’t think that Marin was simply on the right path anymore. The woman might be incredibly close to succeeding!

  “You’re welcome, Emonael,” Marin replied, opening the door for them and ushering the group out.

  After the door closed behind them, Christoff spoke up. “Why were you so polite to her at the end there? I mean, she’s obviously powerful, but you were far more . . . formal than with any of the other magi.”

  “Because she impressed me, and I think she might be right, more so than I thought before,” Emonael replied, shaking her head and grinning at him. “Still, that only matters if I can reproduce one of the
light globes she demonstrated.”

  “You’re going to try to become her apprentice, then?” Damiya asked, fidgeting slightly. “I just think she’s a little weird. I mean, five years to get anywhere at all?”

  “She said that she suspected that we’d know if she was right or not within five years, not that she wouldn’t teach her apprentice anything for that time,” Emonael corrected gently, amused at Damiya’s reaction. “But yes, I’m going to give it a try. She intrigues me more than any of the other magi.”

  “Fair enough. I’m probably going to try to get an apprenticeship with Reesa instead. While Marin was interesting, those were just light spells. I just don’t find that exciting, and the idea of casting spells like that all the time . . . not for me,” Christoff replied, shaking his head firmly.

  “That makes perfect sense to me. You need to do what’s best for you,” Emonael agreed, turning her attention to Damiya. “And you?”

  “I think I’d get bored quickly, and earth magic sounds more than interesting enough for me,” the young woman replied, shrugging as she looked at Emonael guiltily. “My problem is that I kind of liked being together with the two of you the last couple of days. If we all have different teachers, we won’t have that.”

  “Not necessarily,” Emonael disagreed, smiling broadly as she continued. “Remember, the rooms were assigned for the entire year. We’ll see what happens next year, but for the moment we’ll all be staying in the same building, as far as I can tell. Each of us will just have to take our own paths, hmm?”

  “True enough,” Damiya replied, her eyes brightening. “So, now what?”