‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I couldn’t resist! The pair of you are both so shy.’ Syline felt a moment of camaraderie with Ioann when he glared right along with her at her tutor, who simply looked all too pleased with himself.
‘Oh, don’t be such poor sports,’ he said, still grinning. ‘Sit, Syline, sit. We might as well start the lesson. Today, we’ll be studying a basic fire spell. Obviously, elemental spells are key to many battlemages’ arsenals, and Ioann has made the subject of our lesson something of a signature of his.’
Syline couldn’t help but gain a giddy grin at that. Usually, Anatoly was quick to dismiss any combative magic as beneath researchers and intellectuals, such as themselves. He’d taught her some basic magic for self-defence, but only at her insistent begging and liberal application of fluttered eyelashes and whining. Whatever he might think, Syline still considered it the most exciting kind of magic.
‘Habere ferrum pugione art feuer,’ Anatoly incanted and summoned from his wand a long line of sapphire-blue flame with orange just touching its edges. It was around the length of a short sword and emitted a constant roaring sound as it devoured the air around it.
‘It’s called the flame dagger. We’ll be revisiting it when you eventually learn about enchanted items and medical magic. It sees common use in both. Obviously, it has great combat applications though and that’s what we’ll be focusing on today.’
Syline practically had stars in her eyes as the lesson continued. Her teacher ran her through the incantation. Incantations were based around shaping the magic as it was produced, and similar phrases were used in many spells. Syline was familiar with the opening phrase of the spell, but she’d never worked with the shaping phrase, nor the one that conjured the flame. She’d never worked with elemental magic before and it turned into quite a tongue twister. It took her quite a few tries on the elemental phrasing before Anatoly was happy with her. That wasn’t even working in any spell or efficiency suffixes to alter the output of the spell. Having Ioann sitting off to the side, quietly looking embarrassed, didn’t help. His discomfort and shyness were only making Syline feel all the more awkward, and she kept stumbling over herself whenever she caught his amber eyes.
Anatoly found it hilarious.
‘Alright, that should do it. We’ll wait ’til we’re outside ’til you cast it in full. Don’t want to risk anything catching alight. When we’re out there, Ioann can show you his rendition of the spell, as well.’ With a quiet groan as his old knees panged with pain, the old mage led the way to the stairs but was quickly outpaced by his younger companions.
Of the three, Ioann seemed the most eager as they made their way out of the library, practically leaping down the stairs. Syline was momentarily distracted, waving to Lauralee who caught her eye, carrying a stack of books back to Jane’s holdings. The maid looked from Syline to the sorcerer Ioann and grinned, mouthing, ‘Nice,’ to her. Syline blushed and hurried after Ioann.
The three stood together by the small carriage station attached to the library. The snow fell heavily now, each snowflake thick, and gathering on the ground swiftly in great swathes, but a spell from Ioann had it so none of it ever touched them.
‘Alright, Syline, try casting the spell now, please. Now that we’re not at risk of burning anything down,’ her mentor told her with a playful little chuckle.
Syline ignored his jibe, instead focusing on the pronunciation. The arcane language was something to be mastered in and of itself, many of the words rolling, complex sounds that pushed the ability to form them. She held her spell-book open, reading from it and letting the words come forth, one after the other.
The spell completed; she felt the magic rush through her. It felt warm as it pooled in her fingers, bursting forth as a short dagger of fire from the tip of her pointer, around the length of her hand. It was bright blue, just like Anatoly’s. A bright, giddy grin split Syline’s lips.
‘Well done, Syline! But you’ll need to limit your output, or you’ll wear yourself out in no time!’ Anatoly turned to Ioann. ‘Now, our guest here is a bit of an expert in his own rendition of the spell. Ioann, can you show us?’
‘Sure. You might want to, er… you should stand back a bit.’ Anatoly placed a hand on Syline’s shoulder and guided her back a few steps.
Ioann said no incantation, held no magical focus and carried no spell-book. He held up his arm and let out a roar as the tattoos on his face and ones hidden beneath his coat glowed cherry-red. His arm from the elbow down was encased in pure, sky-blue flame with purple and white shades around its edges. Extending well past his fist, his flame “dagger” was almost six feet long, far better described as a great sword. Probably just to show off, the man swung it along the ground, leaving a great rent of melted snow in its wake. The snow that even got close to him vaporised into steam from the heat of being near it, leaving a slowly widening patch of rising steam and clear cobblestones around him.
Syline looked down at her little flame dagger and quietly dismissed it before exclaiming, ‘That’s amazing, Ioann!’ The man grinned bashfully and dismissed the flames.
‘As I said, Ioann here is a hunter for your father; he has something of an acclaim for that spell. After all, not many mages are known for rushing headlong at their enemies. How long can you keep that up, Ioann?’
‘Usually for around ten minutes or so, sir. Then, I’d need around half an hour’s rest.’
‘See, Syline? A sorcerer is a unique kind of person. Their magical energy returns to them much faster than anyone else’s and in far, far greater quantities. We wizards need the ink to tap into magic at all, for the ink acts as the conduit to our souls, from where our magic spills forth. Sorcerers are more closely tied to magic. They’re unique in that they can bypass the ink; something usually limited to magical beasts and creatures of other realms. It comes so naturally to them that, without training, many are unable to control their magic and produce spells purely by accident. Incantations are useless to them. Their connection to magic can even be given to another to grant a wizard their nearly infinite reserves for a short time. Though, doing so will take the magic from the sorcerer for good, perhaps even kill them.’ He said it all with his usual studious manner, but Syline saw Ioann’s discomfort written across his face. ‘Ah, not that we’d ever do such a thing in Russenholde. The practice is forbidden, but not all lands are so moral.’
Ioann gave a small nod, a frown written across his face.
‘I’ve heard of the mage seekers to the far south.’
‘Indeed,’ Anatoly said, now frowning himself, ‘but let’s not get too lost on such grim topics. Tonight was meant to be fun for the pair of you. To get back on topic, there’s also the key aspect sorcerers have, that makes them natural battle mages, but also serves as their greatest weakness.’ Anatoly stepped away from the pair of them and looked first at Syline.
‘Syline, dear, try casting the spell again, but make it as powerful as you possibly can, okay?’
Syline nodded, feeling a bit flustered. She knew she couldn’t possibly compare to the kind of power Ioann had just shown, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t going to try. She repeated the incantation, adding provisors to increase the output and will more strength into the dagger. When it reemerged, it was about a half a length longer than before, almost entirely white with a centre of blue right at the tip of her finger. She couldn’t help but grin with pride and hold her hand up to show it off. Anatoly clapped, as did Ioann, but Syline very quickly felt herself running short with familiar nausea that told a mage they were reaching their limit. She dismissed the spell before it exhausted all her magic.
‘Fantastic work, Syline. See, for a novice, that is very impressive. You could likely soften metal to uselessness with that, even if you can only keep it up for a few moments. You practise enough to have a good magical reserve for someone your age. Now, Ioann, I want you to make your own blade as small and tightly controlled as possible.’
She thought she heard Ioann curse under his breath, and already, the sorcerer looked embarrassed. He didn’t roar this time, but instead stared at his arm in intense focus, his brow furrowed. The flames emerged from just past his wrist, encasing his fist in them. Unlike Syline’s and the blade he had displayed before, it seemed very unstable. It was around the length of his arm now and flickered and spurted at random, sending sparks and bursts of fire pushing from it off to the sides rather than being one focused length. The shape of the flame fluxed and the heat seemed to be fluctuating just as often. With a strained release of breath, the flames surged up into their previous size, and, with a sigh, Ioann dismissed them and shook his head with an embarrassed chuckle.
‘Powerful, bombastic spells come naturally to sorcerers. The difficulty for them comes in reducing the amount of power, rather than increasing it. Already, Ioann is quite renowned for his control of the spell by sorcerer standards. Most sorcerers wouldn’t even manage the blade, their magic would escape in great bouts of fire, explosions and blasts.’
‘But that’s partially thanks to these tattoos, ma’am –’
‘Syline’s fine,’ Syline said with a little smile his way. She saw one come to Ioann’s face as well, before he cleared his throat and nodded.
‘Er, right, Syline, the ink doesn’t quite work the same way for me like it would a wizard. The tattoos, they sort of… they rein me in, stop it pouring out nonstop and put a cap on how much I can give.’
‘So, while a wizard’s speciality comes in surgical, precise spells of various utilities, a sorcerer can cause great destruction or amazing effects. For them, the sign of a master is being able to rein it in.’
Syline was wrapped up in it, but she couldn’t get the image out of her head of that huge blade of flame Ioann had summoned, and how amazing he had looked holding it. Sorcerers might not be as controlled or scholarly as wizards, in fact, she could easily see Magdova as a sorcerer with the wild bursts of energy they seemed to spur off, but they were still amazing in their own right. She listened to the pair’s explanations and further lessons in enraptured bliss, occasionally giving a question or providing her own thoughts on a topic. Sadly, Ioann didn’t stay the whole lesson, leaving early to evade the coming blizzard with a promise that he’d try and meet Syline for coffee sometime before he left for the hunt once again.
Anatoly teased her mercilessly for the giddy grin and blush she gained the moment Ioann wasn’t looking. Syline had no defence but to pout at her tutor.
Chapter 3
After Ioann left, the lesson turned more to discussing the theory, history, variations and applications of the spell that had come throughout the years. Syline wouldn’t pretend for a moment that this wasn’t one of her favourite parts. As much as she loved magic, she loved stories of the past just as much and hearing the tales of famous wizards renowned for the spell set a thrill in her heart. When the lesson finally came to an end, snow still pelted hard against the window.
Anatoly looked to the window with a tired sigh as he stood up.
‘Would you like me to walk you home? Gods know a girl your age shouldn’t walk the streets at night alone as you do. Besides, your mother terrifies me, and if anything were to happen to you, it’d be my head on the chopping block.’
‘Actually−’ Syline started.
