The Dragon Hunter and the Mage (34 page)

“You’re late,” Sabium said as Fadan walked into the house.

The old mage was sitting in an old rocking chair, its wood creaking each time he swayed himself back and forth. Candles burned here and there, casting flickering shadows across the entirety of the apartment.

“I got delayed,” Fadan replied, closing the door. “This girl just wouldn’t let go of me.”

“Poor you.”

“It’s not like that,” the Prince said. “I wasn’t interested in her at all. I would’ve gotten here sooner if I had managed to ditch her, believe me.”

“Well, you should’ve ditched
me
instead. I can promise you’ll regret you didn’t.” Sabium pushed himself up, cringing from the effort, then ambled to one his wooden chests. “Alas, that’s what youth is. An opportunity for stupidity.” He began rummaging inside the chest.

“What is old age, then?” Fadan asked, annoyed. “Confusing hindsight with wisdom?”

Sabium looked at Fadan, narrowing his eyes. “Yes,” he replied after a while. “And complaining a lot. Here, put this around your neck.” He handed Fadan a strange wooden necklace.

Fadan obeyed. “What is it?” he asked.

“A young Mage’s lifeboat,” Sabium explained.

It was an ugly old thing. Unevenly shaped wooden plates with Glowstone shards encrusted on them, all tied together by rusty metal rings that looked about snap.

“It’s called a Transmogaphon,” Sabium continued. “The spells on those shards will help me monitor your progress and, most importantly, keep you from killing yourself. You are to wear this anytime you practice Magic, especially if I’m not around, but be careful. Paladins are trained to recognize Transmogaphons. Conceal it as best you can.” Sabium grabbed a Runium flask from a drawer, drank half of it, and handed to rest to Fadan. “Bottom’s up.”

Red strands swirled inside the metallic liquid as Fadan looked through the vial’s glass, frowning. The last time he had drunk Runium the experience had been less than enjoyable. The Prince took a deep breath, then swallowed the reddish liquid in a single gulp. A burning sensation spread though his body, and he began breathing out blue puffs. He braced himself for the overwhelming experience he had been through the last time, but nothing else happened. His vision remained the same, his mind stayed clear, and there was no loss of balance.

“Surprised?” Sabium asked.

“Yes…” Fadan replied. “The last time I felt… powerful. A little overwhelmed, but powerful.”

“Powerful?” Sabium chuckled. “Well, wine will do that to you as well. It’s the Transmogaphon.” Sabium pointed at Fadan’s chest. The Glowstone shards were hueing powerfully. “It’s keeping you balanced, keeping the Runium’s effects in check. Which reminds me. Do you have a place to practice in the Citadel?”

Fadan confirmed it with a nod.

“Good,” Sabium continued. “Practice as much as you can, but always remember to bring the Transmogaphon back to me so I can recharge it. Each time I do, I will make the spells weaker, until there is no Magic in the Transmogaphon at all. This way, you will learn to control Runium and Magic intuitively.”

Fadan nodded.

“Now, some ground rules,” Sabium continued. “Rule number one. I talk, you listen. If you have a question, raise your hand, but
never
interrupt me. Never.

“Rule number two. Don’t pretend you understand something if you don’t. You’ll be wasting both our times if you’re just waving your arms around like an idiot, not really sure what you’re supposed to be doing.

“And finally, rule number three. Never be late again. I don’t care if half the damsels in the Empire are after you. I’m not one of your servants, and Magic isn’t your fresh new hobby. It is the grandest of human endeavors, and you will show adequate respect.” Sabium paused, but his frown did not soften. “Understood?”

“Yes,” Fadan replied.

“Yes,
Master
…” Sabium corrected.

“Yes, Master.”

“Good. Let’s move on. I remember you saying you had a book on Magic, is that correct?” Sabium asked.

Fadan nodded.

“Then you must know a thing or two about Magic already,” Sabium said. “In theory at least.”

Fadan smiled uncomfortably. “I’m afraid I don’t… To be honest, the book read like gibberish.”

Sabium rolled his eyes. “Of course it did.” He began pacing along the room. “From the start then. What is Magic?” Obviously, no answer came from Fadan, but Sabium didn’t look like he was expecting one anyway. “Magic is the ability to manipulate, control, or change things, material or otherwise, through will alone. Conversely, Magic is
not
the ability to do it permanently. This is why spells stored inside Glowstone shards wear off with time. Yes?”

Fadan’s hand had just shot into the air.

“You said through will alone, but that’s not true,” Fadan said. “Runium is required.”

Sabium stopped pacing. “Correct. Runium is the fuel which your will must burn for it to produce Magic. In fact, the amount of Runium in your system determines how much Magic you are allowed to cast. Simple spells, like moving a pebble, will consume very little Runium. Moving a mountain, on the other hand, would take more Runium than any man or woman could possibly consume.”

“What about experience?” Fadan asked. “Are we able to learn how to use our Runium more efficiently with experience?”

“Yes, and no. All beginners tend to be clumsy in the way they burn Runium, but it doesn’t require full mastery of the Magical arts to burn Runium at optimal efficiency. What experience, and most importantly, knowledge grants you is the ability to cast more sophisticated spells. You see, any idiot can set a house on fire, but it requires a degree of finesse to gently warm up every cup of tea in a party.”

“So… how exactly do I do it?” Fadan asked.

“We will begin with a simple exercise.” Sabium grabbed his rocking chair and dragged it in front of Fadan, then placed the empty vial of Runium on top of its seat. “I want you to move that flask.”

Fadan’s eyebrows jumped in the air. “Using my will?” he asked skeptically.

“Using your will,” the old Mage echoed.

“Alright,” Fadan said, relaxing his arms. “Here goes…”

A slew of wrinkles appeared on the Prince’s forehead as he frowned and gritted his teeth. His eyes narrowed, focusing on the tiny piece of glassware.

Move
, he thought.

“No, no, no,” Sabium said. “I don’t even need to read your mind to know you’re doing it wrong.”

“You can read my mind?” Fadan asked, suddenly worried.

“I’ll teach you how to protect yourself from that later, but don’t worry, I’m not doing it. I can
tell
you’re giving orders. Don’t you see how ridiculous that is? Even if you could already perform a spell as complex as telepathy, that is a flask. An inanimate object. It can’t understand human language. You have to
will
it.”

“What does that even mean?” Fadan asked heatedly.

Sabium raised his hands. “Alright, calm down,” he said. “There’s no need for this to be frustrating.”

Oh really?
Fadan thought.
Who would’ve known…

Calmly, Sabium walked behind Fadan and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Close your eyes. Try to visualize the chair in front of you. Do you see it?”

“Sure…”

“Imagine it exactly as it is. How far away is the chair from you?” Sabium asked.

“A couple of feet,” Fadan replied.

“Very good. Now I want you to visualize the rest of the room. The hardwood floor beneath our feet, stretching towards the chair. The cabinets lining the walls. The bed at the other end of the room. Do you see it?”

“I do,” Fadan replied.

“Excellent,” Sabium said. “Now, visualize the vial sliding across the seat of the chair. It doesn’t matter which direction it slides, just chose one at random and watch it move. That’s right, very good.” He slapped Fadan on his back. “Now open your eyes.”

Fadan obeyed, and his jaw dropped. The flask had moved a couple of inches to the left and was now teetering on the brink of falling to the ground, just as he had pictured in his mind.

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” Sabium asked.

“I… I moved it,” Fadan mumbled.

“You certainly did,” Sabium said, stepping towards the chair. “I actually expected you to shatter the flask. It’s what most people do on their first attempt. Don’t let that go to your head, though. Some of my best students showed no potential whatsoever when they were beginning, and I can also remember a couple of worthless Mages who could have rearranged this whole room’s furniture on their first lesson.”

“So, you mean each Mage has a different amount of… what, aptitude?” Fadan questioned.

“Oh yes,” Sabium replied. “We are all made differently. Some of us are smart, some of us are dumb as a doorknob. Some of us have a knack for music, others for physical tasks. Why would it be any different with Magic? Having the Talent means you can use Runium for more than just hallucinating, but not all Mages are equally powerful. Some people are born to be Arch-Mages. Others will never be more powerful than the average Novitiate.”

Fadan nodded. That certainly made sense. “What was your rank?” he asked.

Sabium grabbed the chair and dragged it back into its place, staring at nothingness. “I was ordained Grand-Sorcerer, first class, three weeks before the Purge edict was issued.” He cleared his throat. “Let’s carry on. I want to teach you to cast fire. The technique i
s
‒
‒
”

Sabium was interrupted by a cacophony of tumbling crates and cracking wood from outside the apartment. Both Sabium and Fadan froze.

“You were followed,” Sabium hissed.

Fadan shook his head. “No,” he said. “That’s not possible.”

“This was stupid,” Sabium growled, marching towards the door with a closed fist and a blue aura glowing around him. “We’ve doomed us both.”

“I…” Fadan staggered back. “It can’t be.”

Sabium grabbed the door knob, sparks flying from his free hand. He swung the door open, far too fast for his age, then jumped outwards.

“You?” Sabium asked.  

Fadan stood on the tip of his toes, trying to look outside, but saw nothing besides the dark shape of his master. Someone replied something inaudible, and Sabium turned around to face Fadan.

“Look who came for a visit,” the old Mage said, pushing someone’s bulky shape into the house.

Alman came stumbling in, looking like a brat that had just been caught doing something he shouldn’t.

“You were supposed to stay away,” Sabium added, this time speaking to his brother.

Fadan shook his head, crossing his arms. “I knew it… I shouldn’t have trusted you.”

“I was just curious,” Alman said. “I wanted to see how you were doing, that’s all. I wasn’t going to interrupt or anything.”

“Except you
did
,” Sabium grumbled, sinking into his chair.

“Well, I tripped,” Alman said. “Have you seen the mess you have outside? You should really tidy up a bit.”

“This is ridiculous,” Fadan said, walking to a corner and picking up his cloak. “I’m leaving.”

“No!” Alman begged. “I’ll leave. You stay.”

“There’s no point you know?” Fadan said. “You think you can persuade me to join your rebellion? I know that’s why you want me to learn Magic, but you’re wasting your time.”

The Prince stormed to the door, but Alman stepped in front of him. “Please wait,” the old man said. “You’re right… I shouldn’t have come, but there is nothing for you to be mad at. I do want you to join us, but only to do what you already plan to.”

Had the old man lost his mind?

“What are you talking about?” Fadan asked. “I have no intention of conspiring against my father.”

“I’m talking about releasing Doric and the other prisoners,” Alman replied. “The rebellion is planning a rescue operation.”

“A rescue operation?” Fadan asked. “In the Citadel dungeons? Are they
mad
?”

“Are you?”

“That’s completely different,” Fadan said. “I’m the Prince. I’m supposed to be in the Citadel.”

“But not in the dungeons,” Alman said. He stepped towards Fadan. “You and your brother already tried to release Doric once and failed. You
need
our help.”

Fadan stepped away from Alman. “How do you know that?”

“We have an agent in the Paladins,” Alman replied. “We know the guard rotation, what cells the prisoners are being kept in, I could even tell you what they had for breakfast yesterday. We already have a plan, but we’re missing someone else on the inside. Someone who knows the Citadel and can move freely about. Someone who could hide us in one of the empty Palaces both before, and after the rescue.”

“After?” Fadan asked, confused.

Alman smiled. “Exactly,” he replied. “Hiding. That’s what you and your brother did wrong. You went for the exits, and that’s exactly what they were counting on. The moment the alarm was sounded, you had only one shot at not being found.”