This is a short writing piece that I originally added to Journalister.com, but since the site is temporarily down I’ve decided to add my story here for those of you who still wish to see it! It’s a short piece about a young mage using a fire spell for the first time!

“I sure as hell hope that this doesn’t blow up in your face again.”

The gruff voice of Darion’s mentor came from the eastern wall of the room. He stood next to the old oak table that had been pushed to one side. A glow of golden warmth flooded in through the small circular windows on either side of the room. Piles of books and bookshelves lined the walls. Blankets of thick dust capped the piles, like fresh snow on the tips of the Khorrian mountain range. Unsettled dust floated in the air, giving him the strong urge to sneeze. An urge he suppressed with great difficulty.

“Come then. Show me what you’ve learned.” the mocking voice came again. Darion turned to face him; his emerald eyes were fierce and focused.

“You’ll eat your bitter words, you craven,” he snapped.

“Oho! Tough talk from a boy who struggles with the most basic spells.”

Darion eyed the man that had been assigned to him as a mentor. Agron Durell was young for a Master-rank sorcerer, but not the youngest. His grey eyes, charcoal black hair and focussed eyes would make even the bravest of initiates tremble, but Darion refused to give him that satisfaction. Agron was shorter than most men, but not by much. His body, however, was stronger than any warrior Darion had met in his life. He had seen the young Master training without his crimson robes just a few days prior; the strong, rippling muscles and scars on his skin reminded him of the stories Lyrah would tell him. The stories of Gregor of the Golden Caste and Andur the Blue Knight of old Khyro were her favourites, she would often tell them with great enthusiasm. They were not great men nor were they beautiful, but their strength and determination had helped them forge their own legends.

Agron was such a man. He was not great. He was not beautiful and he certainly was not kind, but he was proud and strong. His presence was intimidating and his words were sharp. He was great at what he did and Darion hated him for it.

“You know, a little encouragement always goes a long way,” he said, facing Agron.

“Encouragement? Is that what you want? Do you also want me cheering for you every time you learn a new spell? Maybe I should hold your hand every time you pull your cock out for a piss? I don’t help and I don’t encourage. I am here to guide you. If you can’t learn how to do things on your own, my fucking encouragement won’t make any difference. Now are you going to get on with it or not!?” his words were harsh and unforgiving.

Darion stared at him for a moment before turning away. He turned to the wall facing the door and closed his eyes. His senses felt heightened; he could hear and feel the flowing of magical energy around him. Currents of magical energy, much like the currents in rivers and oceans, flowed all around him. They twisted and spiralled in the air in many different directions. He could not see them, but he could feel them. He lifted his hands and twirled them around in the air. This way he could feel where the currents were at their strongest. His eyes remained closed.

After a minute of doing this, he felt it. His left hand passed through a current that sent shivers down his spine. Physically it was just air that felt no different than anywhere else in the room, but he could feel the energy’s presence around that area. Without hesitation he grabbed the air. In his mind’s eye, he saw many different strings in his clenched fist. They gave a faint glow of white and silver. He pulled on the strings and felt their resistance. His right hand came now and grabbed the strings as well. With little effort he pulled the strings of magical energy to his chest. The strings attached themselves to his chest; they were now a part of him. He no longer kept his fists clenched; the strings had now attached themselves to his hands as well.

Slowly he pulled his hands away from his chest. He could feel the great tension in the strings. Like that of a bow. The strain on the strings felt tremendous, but he knew they would not break. They were now a part of himself that only he could command; they would break only when he gave the command. The tension in the strings grew and grew as he kept his hands stretched in front of him.

‘Burn!’ he thought and immediately the strings were ablaze. Strings of magical flames stretched from his heart to his palms that were spread and facing the wall. He allowed the tension to build even more for a few seconds longer.

‘Now!’ his voice echoed in his mind as his eyes shot open. An enormous burst of flames blasted from his hands to the wall. In an instant the fiery blast broke through the wall, leaving a large, gaping hole that lead to a hundred foot drop from the tower they were in. The surrounding area set ablaze almost instantly from the intense heat.

He gasped at what he had just done. He had not intended for it to become so large and uncontrollable. Before he could even think of what to do to stop the flames from spreading, they started shrinking until they quickly died out. The flames were replaced by black scorch marks and ash. Even the robes he was wearing had become blackened by it. He looked to his right to see Agron with his own hands outstretched. Agron lowered his hands and turned to Darion.

“If I hadn’t been here to stop the flames, would you have known what to do?” Agron’s scowl cut down what little confidence Darion had left.

“What you just did was stupid and irresponsible. I don’t care if you were just trying to show off or not, but overcharging your fire spell like that was idiotic to say the least. You lack basic self-control.” Agron’s rough voice was unforgiving.

Darion looked down at his feet. He felt angered and frustrated at his own negligence.

“However,” Agron continued, his expression softening, “you executed a fire spell better than I have seen any initiate do since I came to this academy. You had perfect form. I cannot fault you for that. You certainly have the talent for it… Clean this mess up and get a decent night’s rest. I’ll explain what happened to Arch-mage Aemon. Be at my office first thing in the morning. Tomorrow your training truly begins.”

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