The Mage's Son

by T Ariyanna

  He arrived at the small school a few minutes later, and snuck in the back door. There were only a few small rooms, each with a handful of kids and one teacher. The children were separated into age groups of a couple years. Each group had one teacher that taught them for their whole life.

  He crept through the halls and slipped through the cracked door of his classroom. He sat at the worn and broken desk in the back corner. Miss Kelly glanced at him for only a second. She didn't smile at me today. Do I look that bad?

  He patted his arms, checking for bruises. The muscles were swollen and sore, but he had come to school with more damage before. Maybe something's happened.

  Miss Kelly stopped class after a little while for snack time, and Arion waited in his chair. He watched Miss Kelly write on papers while the other children ate and talked. He avoided the stares and glances, looking down at his gloved hands. He noticed her bag at her feet, and caught a glimpse of a small red apple before she pushed the bag out of sight with her foot. Arion stared out the window, away from everyone.

  His energy was humming in his head, and he tested it, sending it to different parts of his body. With little practice, he was able to control it as easily as any muscle. He barely felt the pain as it scorched his insides.

  Just before snack time was over, he looked up. Miss Kelly always has a snack for me, he thought, depressed. She was biting the end of her pencil while she looked around the class. Her eyes skimmed over him quickly, and she turned away, her cheeks flushing.

  As he looked away from Miss Kelly, his eyes caught the glare of Kraven Kilman. He was the oldest in their class, at least a year older than everyone else. He was also the bully, using his age and size to torment all the others. He had a few friends in the class that helped him pick on the smaller boys, but he liked it better when he tortured others himself and they watched. Kraven had always been threatening, but he was harmless compared to Kole.

  Kraven’s eyes showed pure hatred, and Arion shrunk back in his seat, reminded of his father the night before. Arion had been bullied, like all the others, but he had never been at the top of Kraven's priorities before. He had mostly been invisible to Kraven, like he was to everyone else. Now it seemed that Kraven was the only one who saw him.

  Arion stayed in the corner while all the other kids left at the end of the day. When the room was empty, he walked to Miss Kelly's desk. “Do you have any clothes for me today, Miss Kelly?” he asked sheepishly.

  She had been gathering papers beside her, and jumped when Arion spoke. “Oh, my! Oh, it's just you. No, Arion, I'm sorry. I don't have any left.” She gave him a sad smile, and went back to packing up.

  “But the other week you said…”

  “I know what I said, Arion,” she said sharply. “Things changed, and I'm sorry. Truly, I am. But I just can't help you anymore.”

  Miss Kelly stood up and slung a bag over her shoulder. “Have a good day,” she said automatically.

  She froze, cringing at her own words. “I didn't mean…”

  Miss Kelly put a hand over her mouth, and turned away. At the door, she looked back over her shoulder. “I'm so sorry, Arion,” she repeated before rushing out of the classroom.

  Arion's head sunk, and he shuffled out of the room behind her. He glanced in the lunchroom on his way out, but it was empty, and locked up tight.

  “Where do you think you're going?” a harsh voice boomed as he stepped outside. Arion turned to see Kraven leaning against the building, his lackeys close beside him.

  “You know I don't have anything, Kraven. What do you want?” Arion whined tiredly. His shoulders drooped at the gleam in Kraven's eyes.

  “I don't want nothing,” he spat, pushing away from the wall. He and his buddies circled Arion as he curled in on himself.

  “Anything,” Arion squeaked. “You said it wrong. It’s, ‘I don’t want anything.’ This is why you're still in our grade.” Kraven had only ever been a harmless bully, but the gleam in his eyes as he surveyed Arion was different. Miss Kelly wasn't the only one that had changed.

  Kraven grabbed the torn collar of his shirt, yanking more of the fabric off. “Shut up! You think you're so special, huh, freak?”

  “I'm not a freak,” Arion whimpered, cringing away. “What do you want with me, Kraven? What did I do?”

  “You've been playing teacher's pathetic pet for too long. Time to get exactly what you deserve.” Kraven's fist connected with Arion's cheek, and he was sent sprawling back. He landed on his wounded arm and cried out as Kraven’s friends closed in.

  Through the tears, he saw they were completely alone. There were a few adults, including Miss Kelly, a fair distance away, but they ignored the whole thing.

  “Please, stop. I didn't do anything to you,” Arion pleaded.

  Kraven kicked Arion's stomach, and the sharp pain almost made him vomit. Kraven's friends began to cheer as Kraven lifted Arion from the ground and threw him across the schoolyard.

  He was used to being thrown, and Kraven wasn't nearly as strong as his father. Arion landed in a roll and got to his feet shakily. Kraven's anger only got worse. He charged for Arion, but the boy ducked out of the way, and Kraven barreled straight into one of his friends.

  It wasn't long before Kraven was towering over Arion. The boy couldn’t do anything. Arion hadn't had any strength to fight from the beginning, and he was weak from hunger. His legs gave out from under him, and he sat on the ground, shielding his face with his hands.

  Kraven grabbed his right hand and yanked it away. “Time to learn your place, freak.”

  Arion shook his head, noticing that his hand was warm. “I said stop!” he screamed, flinging his left hand toward Kraven.

  He opened his eyes just in time to see Kraven's face change from anger to confusion as a bolt of green light struck his chest, sending him flying a short distance into the ground.

  Arion stared at Kraven for a long moment, waiting for him to get up. The adults had finally noticed the ordeal, though Miss Kelly refused to look.

  Kraven's group had rushed to him and were yelling at him to get up. Kraven moved slowly, pushing himself up and holding his head. Arion scrambled backward, trying to push himself to his feet. His hands slid along the dirt, and all he could was fumble.

  “Hey. Hey!” a high-pitched voice called. A little girl with long blonde braids and a splotch of freckles across her cheeks collapsed next to Arion. Her light blue dress pooled around her, and dust covered her white apron and stockings. Bright bows were tied messily in her braids, a few of them coming undone as she shook her head. She stared Kraven down, his face a mix of rage and jealousy.

  “That's the mayor's daughter. Kraven, we should go,” Arion heard one of his friends say.

  “Yeah, whatever,” Kraven grumbled back, turning away. His cheeks grew red as he glanced back at the girl. Kraven's group turned as a collective, Kraven shrugging off his friends' help.

  She turned back to Arion, and her smile was the biggest he had ever seen. “Hey, you okay? Did they hurt you?”

  Arion stared at her in disbelief, his jaw slack. She shook his shoulder lightly, and giggled. “It's alright, you can tell me. What's your name?” she asked.

  Arion shook his head slowly, and her brow furrowed. Before she could ask another question, he pushed her out of the way and bolted for home. He ran until he reached the front door, falling against it and looking around.

  His father's ax was missing. He was gone on another logging trip. Arion sighed and slumped to the ground in relief. He had a week, at least, to heal and gather himself.

  He crawled to his room as carefully as he could. All of his wounds his father had given him were now aggravated from Kraven’s attack, and his entire body was sore. He pulled his book from under his bed and plopped it on the bed in front of him.

  “Healing,” he whispered. The book flew through the pages, and Arion was relieved when the magic to heal bruises was a beginner spell. He read it over a few times, committing it to memory. It was a f
eeling spell, rather than an incantation.

  He pulled the gloves off and rubbed his hands together until they were warm, gathering the energy in his chest. It felt the same as before, for the repair spell.

  He ran his hands over his arms, hovering about an inch above the skin. A soft green glow came from the bolt on his hand. It was surprisingly cool, and soothing to his skin. It was difficult to keep it going, and he lost the spell a few times, but he never gave up.

  He lost his energy just after finishing his arms. He was still new at this, and figured that it would take a while to control his magic.

  Arion curled up on his side, pulling the covers over him. Though his arms were free of wounds, his face, chest, and legs all still burned in agony. “I wish I had never touched that urn. First that, then the stupid book, and now everything's changing,” he grumbled.

  He curled up under his tattered blanket and buried his face in the pillow, trying to force himself to sleep. He tossed and turned, but there was nothing to be done about it. He was too riled up from the events of the day. He threw the covers off of him and they fell in a pile on the floor. Lying on his back, he held the pillow over his face, and screamed.

  His breath ran out quickly, and he dropped his arms. His eyes were open under the pillow, but they saw nothing but darkness. His breath was muffled by the pillow, and was hot on his skin. He felt as though he would suffocate, and rose abruptly. The pillow tumbled to the floor next to the blankets, and Arion watched it settle. He bent to retrieve it, but the blanket began shaking. Scared, Arion watched. The shaking grew more violent, and Arion hid around the edge of his bed as something emerged.

  His book hopped out from underneath the blankets, jumping atop the pillow. It shook itself, pages ruffling. It turned in a circle as though it was looking around, though it had no eyes. It turned to face Arion, and bounded when it noticed him.

  With a yelp, Arion backed himself against the wall. The book leapt onto the edge of the bed, watching him cautiously. Its cover opened slightly, and Arion wondered if it was confused.

  “W-why are you moving?” Arion squeaked. The book gave a small hop, and then turned to one of the first pages. Arion crawled to the book slowly, reading from a safe distance.

  “'Each new Mage will be given a spell book, specially designed for them only. These tomes are imbued with a life of their own, making them ideal companions and helpers. After a short time with their Mage, the book begins to adapt to best fit what the Mage most needs or desires, and continues changing, as does the Mage. Once bound to a Mage, tomes can achieve great feats, such as casting small spells on their own, teleporting to their master, or relaying messages, among others. Each book will form their own skills. It is the job of their Mage to discover them all.'

  “Wow,” Arion whispered as he finished reading. The book closed swiftly, and Arion jumped back again. The book sank into the mattress and turned away.

  Arion bit his lip, and raised a hand toward the book. He rested his palm on the cover, and a soft heat came from his palm. The book began to glow a soft green, and it nuzzled into his caress. Giggling, Arion stroked the book, the rough leather pleasant to the touch.

  After a moment, Arion sat back and stared at the book. It twisted around to meet him, its cover ajar. Though it was just a book, Arion felt he could understand it, knowing it wanted more affection. He cocked his head and placed his hands in his lap. “How does this work exactly? Do I give you a name, or something?”

  The book bounced circles around him, bumping into him often. It wasn't very coordinated. Arion caught the book with a laugh and held it in front of him. “It's not very imaginative, but what about Tome?”

  The book shook in his hands, and Arion struggled to hold onto it in its excitement. “Okay, okay, Tome it is. It's nice to meet you.”

  He set Tome down on his lap and stroked its spine absentmindedly. Arion gazed out of the window, still feeling spirited. The moon was high in the sky, and the glow of Centric was all he could see.

  “I'm sorry I called you stupid, by the way. Just a lot happened today,” he whispered. The book settled in his lap, and Arion wondered for a moment if it could sleep.

  The book stopped moving after a while, and Arion could feel the magic within Tome rest, much like his own. He gingerly lifted the book and set it down on the bed. He snuck to the door, and glanced over his shoulder. Should I tuck it in, or anything? Does being comfy matter? Maybe I'll ask later.

  He wandered out into the hallway, gliding his fingers along the wall as he meandered down the stairs and through the house. He was watching his feet, walking heel to toe, when he knocked into something not far from the stairs. He staggered backwards, watching the old grandfather clock teeter on its small legs. He dove out to catch it, barely grabbing the edges. He tried to readjust the clock so he could pull it up, and it slipped from his fingers.

  The glass casing shattered on impact, and the wood cracked. There was a loud gong and pieces spilled from the inside of the clock. Gears, cogs, wires and rods spilled along the floor. He stared with wide eyes as everything came apart.

  He cursed at himself, glancing over the wreckage. “This is way too complex. I don't even think this was made by humans,” he groaned. He fell to his knees and pulled at his hair, wracking his brain for an idea.

  Finally, it came to him. “I'm not human,” he gasped, his eyes lighting up. “I’m a Mage.”

  He whirled and bounded up the stairs. He burst into his room, and Tome jumped nearly a foot in the air as he woke up. Arion caught him easily, the book shaking in his hands.

  “Sorry, sorry,” he said, soothing the book. “I need your help. Do you know anything about clocks?”

  Tome was still for a moment, and Arion began tapping his foot. He bounced on the balls of his feet until Tome shot open, flying through the pages. Scrawled messily at the top of the page was the word, INVENTING.

  “I don't need to know how to invent, I need to know how to fix!” Arion pleaded, but the pages didn't move. He tried turning them himself, but they were held firmly in place. Tome shook defiantly in his hands, and Arion gave up. He carried Tome back to the mess, grumbling under his breath, “I'm not so sure about this.”

  He knelt in the middle of the wreckage and swept the pieces into a pile. He picked up several different things, trying to guess how the clock fit together. He pushed Tome behind him, and sat back on his heels. All the pieces were there, he was certain. Concentrating, he raised his hands to repair the clock.

  He waved his hands around in the air, but there was no sound. He opened one eye, and groaned at the mess that remained untouched before him. “Why didn't the spell to fix it work? I did it right, didn't I?” He turned to Tome, who had shuffled out from behind him smugly. He scoffed as he read the description for the fixing spell. “I have to know what it looks like, inside and out? Crap. Well, there goes that plan. Oh, what am I going to do?”

  He dug his fingers into his face, stretching his skin in aggravation. He rolled his eyes at Tome turning its pages, and sighed in defeat.

  He looked at Tome at his side, his page now turned. There were drawings and detailed descriptions of all sorts of mechanical pieces, some of which looked impossible to build. He skimmed through the details of the parts he recognized from the clock until he reached the last page. There was a mostly blank page separating the parts description from the methods. One word was written over and over in various calligraphy…EXPERIMENT.

  “You don't want me to fix the clock, do you?” Arion whined. Tome fluttered shut, and faced the chaos in front of him. “He's going to notice if it doesn't work, or if it's not there at all. He'll kill me!”

  Tome spun until he was crooked, his top corner lifting upwards.

  “I'm being serious, Tome,” Arion said. “I hope being a funeral planner is one of those skills you can learn, 'cause you're going to need it.”

  He stared at the parts of the clock for a long moment, and an image formed in his mind. He saw all of the pieces
fitting together, though it was for the innards of the clock. “It never worked right anyway. Maybe he won't notice if I fix the body up…”

  He grouped up a few parts that fit into his idea, and glanced at Tome. Without him having to say a word, the pages opened to the section of Inventing that listed various methods to use metal. He read over each as he needed them…controlling his magic to heat the pieces for welding and bending…how to bind different pieces together…and how to change some pieces entirely.

  Arion’s heart raced as he bent wires for the frame, molding a piece of sheet metal for a hinge. He curved gears to form a body. A chain was made from cut and twisted wires. He fit the clasp with a push mechanism, like a pocket watch.

  It was perfect. A heart shaped locket the size of his palm. It was clunky and roughly shaped, but it was appealing to him. But it wasn't finished. It was still empty, and had no picture to fill it. His eyes searched the room until they found a picture frame hanging near his father's bedroom, filled with various pictures of his mother. It had always been kept out of his reach, but that couldn't stop him now. He levitated it off the wall, and plucked the smallest picture from the edge. Creating a small flame on the tip of his finger, he burned the edges to fit the locket, and set it in place.

  “I can give it to Father. He might like it,” he said, though he didn't believe himself. Fearing his father might break it, he surrounded it in his green light. It shrunk and encased the locket, and then faded into the metal. “Not even he can break it now.”

  He smiled at his accomplishment. Tucking his creation into his pocket, he turned his attention to the remaining mess. Using the length of his shirt as a bag, he gathered up all of the parts and took them to his room to hide in his dresser.

  “They aren't going to do the clock any good now, so I might as well use them,” he told himself. Guilt was eating away in his stomach, but he tried his best to smother it.

  He returned to Tome, who was waiting with a repair spell ready, though this one was located deeper within the book. It could fix almost anything, but required the strength to create from nothing if any pieces were gone completely.