Alastair Archibald - A mage in the making

Crohn made the chant as Grimm had done, and Grimm noticed how the lines of power in Crohn's aura waved and twisted in exact counterpoint to the spell as they coalesced to a vibrating mass. Then a thin stream of golden light, which would have been invisible outside the dim cubicle, wound towards the feather. With smooth grace, the feather rose off the table as the chant ended.

"Notice that I must divert only the smallest portion of my will towards the feather once the magic is cast," Crohn said. "Once floating, the feather wishes to remain where it is. To all extents, I can now ignore the feather. This is made easier because the feather has a natural desire to float; this spell, in the tertiary form, is designed to take advantage of this. The first form is, of course, for objects that do not bear the signature of buoyancy or levity. The second is for repulsion, and requires the constant application of force."

Grimm nodded. He had been told this on many previous occasions.

"Observe, Afelnor," said Crohn, "I now relinquish the spell."

Crohn's aura became neutral, and the feather fluttered back to the table. "Now, you try. Try to feel the spell patterning your mind as it did mine."

Grimm started the chant, which was clear in his mind. At the same time, he began to feel the twists and turns of the spell. Remembering what the Magemaster had done, he tried to will the speckles of his power first into lines and then to move in unison with the chant. On the first chant, nothing happened and his head spun a little. He tried again, looking inwards to the depths of his mind. He felt convinced that the feather must move, but it remained firmly table-bound. On the third repetition, he felt his mind split in two, one part focused on a future vision of the rising feather and the other drawing the power into ordered lines inside him.

With an internal hot rush, he felt the lines of power coalesce from the sparkling motes. A giddy sensation filled his head, and he tried to force the lines into the spell's pattern. He felt the power build and mass within his body, but it was too fast and too strong. Struggling to marshal the careering sensations within him, he began to lose control of the spell: the feather rose two inches from the floor, trembled and fell back, although there was no breeze within the room.

Still, the chant echoed and rang in his head, growing louder and louder in his skull to an unbearable volume. In desperation, he aborted the chant, feeling nausea well up inside him. He leant, heaving, against the wall, his forehead beaded with cold sweat and bitter bile rising in his throat. He clutched his throbbing temples to try to quell the sensation.

"Excellent!" Crohn gushed with rare enthusiasm. "You have just had your first glimpse of real magic, Afelnor. You have also learnt that it is not good to abort a casting in midstream. Should you ever do this again, it is advisable to attempt the first instance of the spell of Nullity. This is, as you know, a short chant, but it is necessary to pattern your mind with it, as with any other spell."

"I found it hard to abandon the spell, Lord Mage," Grimm said. "It seemed to grow louder and more insistent in my head."

Crohn nodded. "That is what we call a 'spell resonance'. Your problem there was that you tried to use too much power, and your first instinct was to cut your power before you had closed off the spell. Remember; to cast a spell, one first gathers power and then commences the chant. In order to complete a spell, the caster must continue to apply power until the chant is finished.

"Resonance is most probable where the caster cannot control the power pouring from him; be on your guard for this, Afelnor. In extreme cases, a mage may become irretrievably caught inside a spell, sometimes with fatal results. You only needed to move a feather, not an albatross; such powers are still far beyond your capacity to control. Try again. This time, gather only a fraction of the power within yourself. See the effort required for the spell, and try to let the spell do the work. Once more, Neophyte."

Grimm stood upright, fighting nausea, and tried to repeat the spell with only a little power. This time, he felt his mind patterning to the chant and tried to direct a thin trickle of the patterned energy towards the feather. Just as he became convinced he was deluding himself, the power rushed from him in a torrent. The feather shot off the table and burst through the ceiling, sprinkling the Neophyte and his Magemaster with a shower of fine barbels ripped from the feather. Grimm blinked in amazement but managed to complete the chant before he cut off the energy stream. He then sneezed loudly, several times.

"Weapons training is not a normal part of a Neophyte's training, Afelnor," was Crohn's laconic comment. "You really need to work on the control of your power. You have considerable energy within you; indeed, a remarkable amount. You hold it in check quite well, but your control of the release of it leaves more than a little to be desired. However, I must congratulate you on your control of the spell, if not the energy."

"May I stop now, Lord Mage?" Grimm pleaded, feeling a deep ache in his head and his long bones. "I am suddenly very tired." Grimm began to see coruscating spots before his eyes and fought to maintain his equilibrium.

"I will give you some more potent meditation and relaxation exercises for you to practice in your cell," Crohn said. "Work on them with diligence, so that next time you do not injure yourself or me. Do not, under any circumstances, be tempted to practice any spells except when you are in tuition. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Lord Mage." Grimm had no intention of risking another spell resonance or worse.

"With the power you possess," the Magemaster continued, "the consequences of a miscast or garbled spell could be frightening. I want you to promise me you will not attempt the least spell, except in my presence. The temptation is too much for many Neophytes, and they may suffer grave consequences for their youthful folly. In the realm of Thaumaturgy, a casual dilettante is a dangerous liability."

Crohn rubbed his chin. "I have decided not to place you under a spell of Compulsion at this time," he said. "Such a spell removes free will and the necessity for the self-discipline I expect from a Neophyte. As your studies progress, however, I may find it necessary to impose such a restriction upon you."

Grimm gave a solemn, heartfelt oath that he would do no more than think about the day's learning and read his notes. Crohn wrote some instructions in a combination of plain text and runes on a piece of parchment, which he handed to Grimm.

"You are dismissed. Go and rest before recreation."

When Grimm reached his cell, his mind reeled at what he had learned and the power he had released. Despite his wheeling thoughts, he fell quickly asleep after a cursory review of Crohn's notes, surrendering to the deep torpor within him. It was a sensation with which he would become familiar in the succeeding days.

After a further month of daily two-hour sessions, Grimm was able to control the feather as required, at will and on demand. He moved on to others of the Minor Magics, and he began to develop a feel for the object to be affected, so as to be able to divert just enough energy to bring about the desired change.

When his sessions with Crohn were finished, he moved on to other lessons. He found Herbalism fascinating, and he was a quick study. He still found Courtly Graces somewhat difficult, but even Magemaster Faffel did not fail to note that Grimm was making rapid progress. Music, as ever, was a blessed release, and Grimm quickly became the skilful player of a number of instruments, preferring the intimate embrace of stringed instruments such as the viol and the chitarra.