A Touch of Magic (13 page)

“It’s metal!” Randall exclaimed, running his finger along the rune he had drawn. Only now it wasn’t charcoal on parchment; the rune was deeply engraved in a square of steel. But it was obviously his parchment: all of his doodles and failed work were there, too, engraved on the steel. The ridges and uneven bumps from the original parchment were all there. It was like someone had sculpted a perfect steel replica of the paper Randall had been working with. “But how?”

“Good question! And that’s the finest dwarven steel, if I had to guess!” Erliand laughed, managing to look both giddy and jealous at the same time. “I was up studying it all night, trying to crack the secret. Can’t seem to get it quite right. A rune this powerful, you’d expect the effect to fade nearly instantly when placed on something as flimsy as parchment. But it’s obviously still working. Amazing!” Erliand’s eyes narrowed a bit, and he looked at Randall sideways. “So, how’d
you
manage it?”

Randall wasn’t sure he liked what he saw in that look. There was something dark, and jealous there. His gut told Randall that he should tread very carefully.

“Uhm, well, I don’t know,” he said, truthfully. “I was just scribbling. Beginner’s luck, I guess.”

Erliand continued to give Randall that hooded look, as if searching for something, before letting himself laugh. “Beginner’s luck indeed! I wouldn’t expect you to be able to duplicate the rune again. You haven’t the training or discipline.”

Erliand then reached over and plucked the transformed parchment from Randall’s fingers. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t. I’m going to take this back to my study and see if I can draw it true. You come get me after your chores and your weapons practice, and we’ll have you learn something new.”

“Yes master!” Randall nodded excitedly. After weeks of feeling like he wasn’t getting anywhere, he was finally making progress!

Erliand’s expression turned serious again as he looked down at the transformed parchment. “Now you listen well, lad. You remember how I told you before the elves would spill my life’s blood if they knew I had divined a healing rune? That wasn’t just a tale told to scare young boys. They’d split my gizzard in an instant. Well, the same goes for the dwarves—they guard their secrets as jealously as the elves do. If even a whisper of this got out, I wouldn’t give a ringet for the value of your life. I shudder to think the kind of torture they’d put you under in order to learn how you did it. If I thought we were in danger before, it’s now double. So you pay attention to your dagger practice today, boy. You just put a price on your own head.”

Randall rushed through his chores as quickly as he could, his mind on fire. Dwarven steel! I did something Master Erliand couldn’t even do! I’m certain to be a powerful Mage some day! I wonder what else I can do! He didn’t give a second thought to Master Erliand’s warning. After all, how likely was it for him to run into a dwarf? Master Erliand was getting worked up over nothing.

After completing his chores, he could hardly wait to get finished with his weapons drills, but that was nothing new. Long bored with the repetitive nature of weapons practice, Randall used the time to think and daydream. Today, he was so lost in thought that he was barely aware of what he was doing with his dagger. Halfway through his drills, he heard a cry of alarm from Erliand’s study.

“Oh no!” he exclaimed, and tore through the small house and ripped open the study door. All of the old Mage’s warnings about being attacked shot to the forefront of his mind.

Erliand sat at his desk, pounding his fist on the surface, and cursing up a storm. At this moment Randall thought he sounded more like a caravan master than a Mage, that’s for sure! Randall’s father had never cursed much, and the invective coming from Erliand made Randall blush to the tips of his ears.

After a moment, Erliand sensed Randall standing in the doorway and looked over at him irritably. “What do you want, boy? It’s not time yet!” he snapped.

“Master, I heard a noise, and, well, you see, I thought…” Randall petered out, still panting heavily from his run.

Erliand’s glanced at the dagger still gripped tightly in Randall’s fist. His expression softened somewhat, as he said “Now I have you paranoid, too! Probably for the best anyway. Well, might as well come in and sit down. Your little trinket just gave up the ghost.”

Randall looked at Erliand’s desk as he came into the study. “Where is it?” he asked, his eyes lighting on a thin coating of dark ash on the desk in front of Erliand.

“I told you, it expired. A rune that powerful takes everything the host has to give, and leaves nothing left, except maybe a little dust and soot.” Erliand held up his fingers so that Randall could see the black stains on his fingertips. “One second it was in my hand, hard as…well, dwarven steel. The next second—poof!”

Erliand threw up his arms for effect and kicking up a small cloud of fine black dust from the surface of his desk, making them both cough uncontrollably. After the dust settled, Erliand continued.

“Lasted a good long while, though, considering what it was made of. Would’ve likely lasted a good while longer had it been carved in steel or stone to start with. Now I said have a seat!”

“Yes Master!” Randall squeaked, and slid into the chair in front of Erliand’s desk. Erliand pushed the parchment across to Randall, and held out a bit of charcoal to him.

“All right, lad. Draw it for me again.” Erliand commanded.

Randall took the charcoal cautiously, and eyed the parchment. It was covered with dozens of copies of Randall’s Buk rune. To Randall’s eye, they were identical reproductions of his work, but it was obvious that they had not behaved as intended. He took a deep breath and bent over the paper, painstakingly drawing out the rune. Feeling Erliand’s eyes burning into him, he worked carefully, trying to recreate the rune as he had last night. He didn’t realize that he was holding his breath until he finished drawing and blew out the stale air in a great sigh. Drawing another deep breath, he nervously tried to open himself to Llandra, but the power wouldn’t come. He looked up at Master Erliand in embarrassment and began clearing his mind for another attempt.

“Oh, give it here!” Erliand snapped impatiently, reaching across the desk to snatch up the paper. Randall felt a quick, strong pulse of power as Erliand drew power to infuse the rune. Feeling a tinge of envy at his master’s confidence and skill at gathering power, he looked at the parchment to see what changes had been wrought.

“Nothing,” sighed Erliand. “Not surprised, I suppose. Lightning doesn’t strike the same tree twice. But you’ve given me a decade’s worth of research, for sure boy! Maybe a lifetime! I sure got my two talens worth out of you!”

Rather than being proud at the praise, Randall felt his heart sink.
I guess I’m not so amazing after all,
he thought, disappointed.

“Don’t look so down in the mouth, Randall,” Erliand ordered. “Nobody would have expected you to make that rune again. Be proud that you made one like it in the first place, even if you can never duplicate it. That’s more than most Mages will ever do in their lifetime!”

Randall perked up at that. “Yes, Master,” he said, feeling himself blush at the praise.

“That’s better. Now let’s take another look at my healing talisman. I want to show you something.”

Erliand pulled the shiny black cylinder from a drawer in his desk and handed it across the table to Randall. Immediately, Randall felt the pains of his daily weapons practice lessen a bit in his arms and shoulders. He had grown so inured to the aches that he had practically forgotten them until they began feeling better. His mood lightened as the pain melted away, and he found himself forgetting about his problems as he eyed the talisman with interest.

“Now, the way you drew Buk last night, that was a powerful rune.” Erliand said, rubbing his chin in the lecturing pose that Randall had grown accustomed to seeing. “The more closely you get to the heart of the rune, the more powerful the effect, and the less subtle it becomes. On the other hand, most symbols are subtle. Take that talisman. Only one of those symbols is the one for healing. But it’s so weak that you shouldn’t feel it working at all. If you were lucky, it might make you get over a cold an hour early. Or maybe just a minute early. Hard to say.”

“But it healed my hand pretty good right in front of my eyes,” Randall said. “My concussion, too.”

“That’s true, indeed it is,” Erliand said. “When I healed your hand, I juiced up the talisman. I drew magic from Llandra, and pushed it into the runes. The technique is the same as when you charge one for the very first time. Like fanning a fire, it makes them very potent for a very short time. Also like fanning a fire, it burns your fuel faster, shortening a talisman’s lifespan. Don’t expect to see me do it again on that particular charm.”

“But even just holding it, I can feel it making my muscles less achy Master!” Randall protested.

“Quit interrupting, boy!” Erliand snapped. “I’m getting to that part. I carved probably a hundred symbols on that talisman. The healing symbol, of course, but that’s only one of them. Now I’ve told you before that some symbols come in families, and make a kind of magical language, and we call those runes. There’s another kind of symbol, a kind that only works when you put it with another. These are called
bindrunes
, and they make a talisman stronger and more focused. I’ve put eleven of them on that talisman, and together with the healing symbol, they’re what makes it work.”

“Wow…” said Randall, looking the talisman over. A thought suddenly occurred to him. “What would happen if I would have put those bindrunes with my rune last night?”

Erliand chuckled. “I plan on exploring that very question when I am able to duplicate your rune. Maybe we could have made something even stronger than dwarven steel. Maybe nothing at all. See, not all bindrunes work together, and not all symbols can have their power boosted with a bindrune. And it sometimes depends on what order you inscribe them, and how they touch each other. I know hundreds of bindrunes, far more than any other symbol I know. It took me the better part of four years to figure out the particular configuration on that talisman there.”

Four years?
Randall thought.
Four years ago, I was practically a baby!
“I see,” Randall said as he continued to examine the healing talisman. “So, what are the rest of these symbols then, Master?” Randall asked. “There are a lot more than a dozen of them here.”

 “Null-power bindrunes.” Erliand answered, causing Randall to raise his eyebrows questioningly. “You can’t just connect any old garbage you want to a rune. It’ll break the magic if you do. Null-power bindrunes do nothing at all, but more importantly, they don’t disrupt the power of other symbols on the talisman.”

“Then why put them on there, Master?” Randall asked. “Seems like a lot of work for nothing.”

“Don’t be dense, boy. To hide the true runes, of course.” Erliand exclaimed. “Null-power bindrunes don’t do anything for a talisman, but they don’t break the magic either. The fact that they’re every bit as difficult to learn as any other symbol makes it a lot harder for someone to figure out your formulas without investing a lot of time and effort. That way some Johnny-come-lately doesn’t come along, stealing your secrets and selling them cheaper.”

“Oh,” Randall said, imagining taking years painstakingly drawing thousands of symbols and runes looking for just the right combination. “It’s not very exciting work, though, is it?”

Erliand chuckled. “It won’t seem so dull the first time you earn a small stack of talens for your troubles, I can tell you that. But symbol magic isn’t very thrilling, I’ll grant you.” Erliand paused, and considered the soot on his fingertips. “Usually. Don’t you worry, though. I’ll teach you some of the more flashy kinds of magic later, after you’ve developed a little. By this time next year, I wager you’ll be having the rake do your yard work all on its own!”

“Wow, really!” Randall asked, sitting straight up in his chair.

Erliand laughed out loud, and pulled several sheets of parchment from his desk. “We’ll see. But for now, we’ll work on some more symbol magic.” He quickly sketched out several symbols onto a fresh sheet of parchment.

Randall let out a groan of despair before he could catch himself. He knew where this was leading. More countless hours of handwriting practice.

“Now don’t get all disappointed yet, boy. I have the feeling you’ll like this one.” Erliand said as he pushed the parchment across the desk. “That first symbol is the rune Eoin. It means ‘desire’.”

“Desire? You mean like making someone love you?” Randall immediately thought of Melinda back home. With magic, perhaps she would get over her loathing of him. Maybe he could even get her to kiss him!

Erliand laughed out loud. “Indeed, that’s one meaning, boy. Quit blushing and pay attention. I keep forgetting you’re not as young as you look.” Randall blushed again as Erliand continued, “There are different kinds of desire, and love is just one of them. There is the love of money: avarice. There is gluttony, the love of food. Jealousy and envy are just flavors of desire, too. There is ambition, which is the desire to improve one’s station, as well as nobility, which can be defined as the desire to serve others. Desire is at the heart of many human interactions. You’ll find yourself turning to Eoin time and time again as the basis for a practical solution to a problem you are solving with magic. Eoin is a very subtle rune, and how it acts ultimately depends on what bindrunes you combine it with.”