《The Limits of Magic》


 In the Beginning

    What¡¯s the difference between a human and a god? I¡¯m sure you could give me a laundry list of differences, but I¡¯ve come to realize at the end of the day there is only one difference worth mentioning: perspective. To a young child, a parent can seem like a god, controlling the child¡¯s entire world from the start of the day all the way until their head lays in bed at night.


    As for the parent, well, the parent doesn¡¯t feel like a god. In fact, the parent likely prays for help from the gods to get through their own day. This used to make me wonder¡ªwho helps the gods get through their rough days? Do the gods have their own gods that they turn to for help?


    All of this pondering brings me to the more¡ªperhaps even the most¡ªimportant question: is there such a thing as omnipotence? The very word¡ªgodhood¡ªsuggests the peak of existence.And yet there must be limits even at the very top. Can a god create a stone so heavy they cannot lift it? Surely not.


    For reality to have any meaning, all beings¡ªeven gods¡ªmust inhabit a world with structure. It is this structure that allows two beings to coexist in the same plane of reality. And structure means limits. And if so, with limits placed upon them, what does it mean to be a god?


    -- Musings of Filo the Insane, Year 945.


    . . .


    I was awake.


    I Cast my mind around me¡ªmore out of habit than anything¡ªand sensed the flow of mana, which swirled and interacted withthe nearby manor¡¯s staff. The cook was in the kitchen, likely whipping up some delicious biscuits and poached eggs. An errand boy was walking down the hallway, picking up bedding for the wash.A few songbirds were nesting in the tree beside my window.


    I jumped out of bed and stretched. I took adeep breath, held it for a second, and then slowly let it out, doing my best¡ªbut failing¡ªto calm my nerves.


    Today I would take my final exams. If successful, my father told me that I would be considered an adult and granted a great deal of freedom. It was a glorious thought, after the last few gruelingyears of tutors and training.


    I dressed without wasting any time, opting for a tunic and comfortable trousers, both made from a lightweight wool. They were grey and plain, a student¡¯s uniform.


    A quick check in the mirror told me I was in dire need of a haircut, for my wavy dark brown hair was growing down into my eyes and past my ears. I had been cramming these past few weeks and had spared no time for things like grooming. At least the hazel eyes that looked back at me seemed bright and clear enough, with only small dark circles under them to suggest I had been short on sleep as of late.


    I fought back the urge to rush straight to the site of my exams and forced myself to sit on the floor and meditate for a few minutes to attune myself to the mana around me. My father had taught me from my earliest lessons not to spend all my energy trying to get the mana to obey, but also to practice listening to it, regularly and often. I asked him on several occasions why I should bother, and he would say that it was more fun if I figured it out myself.


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    And so¡ªon as many days as I could remember¡ªI did as he taught and set aside a few minutes in the morning to clear my mind. Then I would . . . well I would listen. Once you learned how, it was easy to hear mana, for even without trying it felt like a noisy crowd outside your room, unintelligible, but noticeable. The hard part was making out what anyone was saying. It always seemed like gibberish, but lately I felt like the gibberish was trying to tell me something. Not with words¡ªit was more of a feeling.


    Sometimes, when I just let my mind wander, I began to feel like I could make sense of the chaos¡ªthat it was speaking to me. It was like some friends making their way through a busy crowd, and as they camecloser and closer, I could start to recognize their voices amidst all the others, perhaps even catch a word or two. But as soon as I focused on it, the voices would vanish. After a few minutes, I would start to think I had never heard anything to begin with.


    Today there were no such inklings and after a few unproductive minutes I gave up, unable to focus on anything in my nervous state. I stood up, brushed the wrinkles from my trousers, and pushed open the heavy oak door that led out of my chambers and into the hallway. If I hurried, I would have enough time for a small bite to eat before my exams began. My mouth began to water at the thought of freshly baked biscuits.


    It was a short trip to my exam. Apart from the library, which was two levels, the entire manor was one level¡ªa long, curved structure that formed a nearly complete circle. The center of that circle was a courtyard where you would find a stable, a smithy, and a training yard. None of this was particularly fancy, but every inch of the manor and property on which it sat was well kept and exuded purpose. And I knew every inch, for it had been my home as long as I could remember.


    I hurried through the kitchen, not bothering to grab a plate or to sit for a meal. I took a few biscuits that were on a table to cool, pausing only briefly to nod at Rodrick, the cook. He was a thin, balding man, who didn¡¯t seem like the sort who enjoyed eating the fruits of his labors. Despite this fact, he never disappointed with his dishes. I was confident he was the most irreplaceable member of the manor¡¯s staff.


    ¡°Warren, slow down!¡± Rodrick shouted at me as I made my way out of his kitchen. ¡°Today is too important a day to skip a good breakfast!¡±


    I spun around and gave Rodrick an apologetic shrug as I crammed one of the biscuits into my mouth. I spun back around and kept up my brisk pace.


    After polishing off a second biscuit, I entered the library, where I would be doing the first part of today¡¯s tests. Here, I would show mastery of various subjects like math and the elements. Assuming this morning wasn¡¯t a total disaster, I would then move on to the main event: mage craft.


    I looked around. The room was a spacious rectangle with books upon books along its walls and nothing to block my view. There was no one there. I walked by the large reading table found in the center of the room, where I had done countless hours of studying, and saw a small piece of parchment near one of its edges. I picked it up and flipped it over twice to be certain I wasn¡¯t missing something. It simply read: ¡°Congratulations on passing part one, now meet me at the training yard for the real test. M.E.¡±


    M.E.¡ªMathias Elusen. My father.

 The Real Exam

    I was in much less of a hurry now, feeling both relieved I wouldn¡¯t have to deal with part one of my final tests and more than a little angry that I had spent so much time studying for an evaluation that was not going to take place. This was a classic move by my father, one I should have seen coming. He prioritized substance and results over pageantry and formalities. The note he left in the library was his way of saying I was sufficiently well versed in the clerical arts and so there was no need for a test. Which made me wonder what he had in mind for ¡°the real test.¡±


    My father was standing in the middle of the training yard, which was just a patch of grass large enough for a few dozen people to engage in training and duels. He was imposing, with broad shoulders and a height of well over 6 feet. This qualified him easily as the tallest man I knew. He kept his salt and pepper hair and beard short, and both were well maintained, just like the manor he oversaw. His back was to me, but even from behind he projected a regal aura. As a mage he stood out to me even more, for the mana that moved like dust in the wind around ordinary people draped around him like a cloak¡ªorganized, with a sense of purpose. I had never been able to figure out if that was because my father was doing something intentional to cause the mana to behave in such a fashion or if the mana was simply responding to him, as if his very presence imposed order on the world.


    I stopped 10 feet away and waited for him to turn around. One did not hurry Mathias Elusen.


    After a few long seconds he spoke, his voice a rich baritone that filled the courtyard, ¡°And how are you doing this fine day, Warren?¡±


    ¡°Thanks for the stressful months of studying I just endured for apparently no reason,¡± I replied, trying and failing to sound light-hearted.


    ¡°Was that why you studied the material? To pass an exam?¡± He turned to look at me as he spoke, an arched left brow and half smile on his face.


    I didn¡¯t take the bait and remained silent.


    He waited a second to be sure I had nothing more to say and then gave me a small nod. ¡°Let us begin¡ªwhat is the First Law of Magic?¡±


    I looked at my father, confusion all over my face. This was the very first thing he had taught me. This was supposed to be a final exam, not a review of our first lesson together. Did he think I had forgotten something so basic?


    I launched into the textbook answer, ¡°A mage is limited only by his abilities and the available mana. Or in other words, a mage¡¯s power is a function of his efficiency at casting a given spell and the mana at his disposal.¡± I hesitated. Was he looking for something more? I wasn¡¯t sure what to say and so said nothing.


    ¡°If you wanted to increase your power, what would you focus on?¡± His face was stoic, providing no clue as to the correct answer.


    I frowned. This was something we had never discussed¡ªI had never had to deal with a shortage of mana.


    I thought for a minute before responding, ¡°If ¡®both¡¯ isn¡¯t an acceptable answer then I would focus on increasing my ability. You can¡¯t always control how much mana you have at your disposal, but you can make sure that you are able to use the mana you have in the most efficient way possible.¡± This wasn¡¯t something I thought much about, but it seemed like a reasonable answer to me.


    He nodded, as if expecting that answer. ¡°Summon a fireball.¡±


    A simple task. I simply had to take the mana from the air and¡ªbut I couldn¡¯t. There was no mana. I was confused. I had experienced situations with excess mana and limited mana, but never this. It was like trying to drink water from a cup, only to discover it was bone dry, with not even a few drops remaining to wet your lips.


    I closed my eyes and expanded my reach, Casting my mind beyond the training yard, to the edge of the manor¡¯s grounds. Nothing. How was this possible? I knew my father was a powerful mage, but this seemed too great a task, even for him. I ran my hands through my hair in frustration and looked at the ground, as if the answer might be found there.


    ¡°I . . . I can¡¯t.¡± My confidence that I would pass my father¡¯s tests began to falter.


    ¡°Are you sure?¡± I could hear a bit of pity in his voice.


    I never was a fan of pity and he knew it. I Cast my senses even further than I had before, dangerously far. I started to sweat as the effort needed to go farther from myself increased rapidly and, when I could take it no more, I felt my awareness snap back to my body, leaving me nauseous and disoriented. Still nothing.


    And then I realized there was mana. I was just looking in the wrong direction. It was a dangerous practice if used carelessly, and one I had only experimented with a few times, but in a pinch, it was always an option. I carefully pulled at the mana I could still feel¡ªthe mana within me. Fortunately for me, he hadn¡¯t specified the size of the fireball, and I brought forth a tiny ball, no larger than my thumb. I let it swirl in my hand for a second before extinguishing it. My hands were shaking at the effort I had expended, first to find mana and then to make use of my own. Mana was the energy of all things. A mage generally made use of the mana around them to carry out their will, but there was nothing to prevent them from drawing on the energy that was their own lifeforce, except the fact that it could cause injury or even kill you if you consumed too much. Sort of like blood loss. A little blood lost was not the end of the world. A lot . . . that was a different story.


    Mathias clapped his hands in appreciation for my effort. ¡°Excellent. Now tell me the Second Law of magic.¡±


    Now, more apprehensive, I once again repeated the textbook definition that had been drilled into me, ¡°Mana can be neither created nor destroyed.¡±


    ¡°Where did the mana go that you tried to access just now?¡±


    I had just been thinking that myself. Mana could be drawn within and used to enhance strength, accelerate healing, or to prepare for a massive spell. But it was like taking a deep breath before diving under water. You could only hold so much within you. The most I had ever managed to store would not have displaced what was available even a few arms¡¯ lengths away from me. And yet the mana that I had felt all around me as I walked to the training yard had vanished. But not out of existence. It must have gone somewhere. And there is only one place I could think of, although it made no sense.


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    ¡°It¡¯s . . . in you . . .¡± I was dumbstruck. I couldn¡¯t sense the mana in him, but I knew it was there. It had to be. I wasn¡¯t going to give him time to ask the obvious follow-up and so I beat him to it. ¡°How? How did you do it?¡±


    Mathias gave me an understanding smile, ¡°That is a lesson for another day, but it is enough that you were able to understand that it was done. Just remember that the line between what is possible and what is not possible is often one of our own creation. Tell me the Third Law.¡±


    ¡°The Third Law of magic states that for any output a mage requires a corresponding input.¡± I waited for my father to tell me to attempt some impossible feat or answer an impossible question. Instead, he looked beyond me, to the eastern side of the courtyard. I turned to see what he was looking at and saw nothing of note, just Palin, the apprentice blacksmith, hauling some raw metal ingots. When I turned back, I found my father looking at me again, and now his brow was uncharacteristically furrowed.


    ¡°What does that definition mean to you?¡± He folded his arms and a sense of doom settled over me. I rarely answered his open-ended questions to his satisfaction.


    I took a deep breath and tried to be as imposing as one could in the presence of a powerful mage. ¡°I¡¯ve never liked this Law, as you well know. It seems redundant given the First Law. Both deal with a mage¡¯s capabilities. They both kind of suggest the same thing, if you want to cast a spell . . . you need mana.¡± I crossed my arms. I had butted heads with him on this point before.


    Mathias rubbed his short beard. His eyes locked on mine before he spoke. ¡°Those who do not practice the magical arts think that magic is used as a shortcut. But while true in a sense, they are also fundamentally incorrect. Everything has a price that must be paid. It is one thing to seek efficiency, it is another to ask magic to perform a task that you have not paid for in full.¡±


    ¡°That doesn¡¯t make any sense.¡± I was getting frustrated with my father¡¯s doublespeak and felt my voice rise as I spoke. ¡°How can magic be a shortcut and not a shortcut?¡± I had given up trying to ¡°pass¡± this test. I now suspected that today¡¯s events were all going according to my father¡¯s plan. It was time to just go along for the ride and see what he had in store for me.


    Mathias held out his hands. ¡°If I held a competition between two men to move a stone across a field and one of them was strong enough to lift it and the other was not, what would you think?¡±


    ¡°That the competition was unfair.¡±


    ¡°What if I told you that they had six months of notice about the competition, and during that time the stronger man spent 5 hours a day lifting stones, and the weaker man had just laid on the grass and stared at the clouds all day?¡±


    ¡°. . . Then I would say the stronger man deserved to win.¡±


    ¡°Is possessing greater strength a shortcut to victory? On the day of the competition, it might seem like it, but a price had to be paid by the stronger man to obtain his strength. And yet a capable man would be able to build both a ramp and a cart to move the stone in far less time than the months it took the stronger man to get the strength needed to lift and carry the rock on his own.¡±


    My father started to get more animated as he often did when he got into the meat of one of his lessons. ¡°Likewise, you could learn to start a fire with flint and steel in far less time than it would take to learn how to summon a flame by controlling and commanding mana. The shortest path to power, to growth, to becoming . . . more, is realizing there is no shortcut. Lesser men will never be able to see this simple fact and they will waste their entire lives achieving nothing, always looking for the easy way that does not exist. Greater men will never be able to unsee this fact and will spend their days doing what is required to move to greater and greater heights. The lesser man while see these efforts and mock them, for true progress is often slow and imperceptible. But their mockery is rooted in fear and the growing realization that they will never catch up.¡±


    Mathias paused to see that I was following along. I nodded, saying nothing and he continued, ¡°The First and Second Laws of Magic are about understanding what is possible in the moment that power is needed. The Third Law is the key to obtaining that power. The corresponding input is not just a sufficient amount mana, although it certainly is that. The corresponding input is not just the ability to control that mana, although it certainly is that as well. It¡¯s everything it took to get to that point. The output is the power to influence and change the world around you to reflect your will. The belief that access to this power can be had without paying the price . . . it is a would-be mage¡¯s greatest folly. While it has many names, to me the third law should have be called the Law of Sacrifice.¡±


    Mathias placed his hands on my shoulders, and I felt pinned to earth by the weight of them.


    ¡°What is it that you desire?¡±


    I looked up from the ground into my father¡¯s eyes, grayish blue, like a summer storm. ¡°I want to become a mage as amazing as you are.¡±


    He looked back at me with a warmth I could no more comprehend than some of the magic he could perform. ¡°Are you willing to do what it takes to get there, to pay the price that much be paid?¡±


    To this I did not hesitate, for in truth there was little else I wanted more. ¡°I am.¡±


    He pulled back from me and his voice took on a formal tone, ¡°Warren Elusen, son of Mathias Elusen, you have passed your exams, and your time as my student has passed. You still have much to learn, but it is now time for that learning to take place beyond these walls.¡±


    I was stunned. ¡°I thought my time of being a student was over. And if not, what can I learn out there that you cannot teach me here? Where will I even go?¡±


    Mathias smiled a knowing smile and held up a hand to halt my panicked questions. ¡°The time has come for me to tell you what I can, although it is not much. I set up these exams not because I wanted to test you, but because I wanted you to study and learn everything you possibly could before . . .¡±


    ¡°Before what?¡± What was so important that he wanted me to spend the last few months cramming every bit of knowledge I could into my head?


    ¡°It¡¯s about . . . your mother.¡± Mathias suddenly looked exhausted and sweat began dripping down his face.


    My heart started racing and my mouth was suddenly dry as a bone. I had never seen my mother and I knew next to nothing about her, apart from the fact that she must have existed at one point. My father had always stonewalled my attempts to inquire as to her whereabouts or if she was even still alive. There was not a topic I wanted to know more about than who or where she was.


    ¡°What about her?!?¡± I shouted, grabbing my father¡¯s arms as if to pull the information from him, but as I did so he became unsteady on his feet, and I felt him lean on me for support.


    I had seen my father perform magic that was not mentioned in a single book in his library. Even though I had grown up in his presence, I still felt a sense of awe just thinking about what I had seen him do. Advanced Object Reconstruction, Teleportation without the aid of a Gate, Healing that brought someone back on the verge of death. In all this time, I had never seen him so much as strain himself.


    My father was trembling now, his face growing ashen. Then, to my dismay, he fell to his knees, his grip on me weakening. Seeing my father struggle was almost as shocking to me as hearing him speak of my mother. I could feel a great turmoil in the mana inside him and I realized there was a reason he had taken so much of it inside himself. He had gathered such a vast quantity of mana for this moment, to do something that challenged even a mage as great as Mathias Elusen.


    Finally, he spoke, leaning his head weakly against my cheek, his voice barely a whisper in my ear, ¡°She says . . . the time has come.¡± And then, my father, my mentor, and my friend, strong and regal just moments ago, did something I did not think to ever see¡ªhe collapsed.

 A Single Step

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 Dorbish

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 Pursuit and Capture

    It was getting darker.


    In my haste, I was having a hard time grasping exactly what Dorbish looked like, or even how the streets were laid out. But I was pretty sure I was following the girl. She was leaving a faint, barely noticeable trail in the ambient mana. It was difficult for me to see¡ªas if someone had thrown a rock into a pond and I was seeing just the last few ripples in the water before it went back to being still.


    Mana was all around me, but some of the mana felt a bit different and when I focused on it, I could tell that the mana had been recently tasked with doing something. I could only assume that this something was masking the girl¡¯s presence, for there appeared to be no other magical disturbances anywhere in Dorbish, which I found troubling.


    Even when my father slept, he disturbed the mana around him more than what I felt here. There was time for pondering that later. For now, I could only be grateful, as even small spells along the trail would have disturbed the ambient mana enough to make it impossible for me to see where this girl was going.


    After nearly half-an-hour of twists and turns I would be unable to repeat if my life depended on it, I found myself at the door of a small house. Sweat dripped from my brow and I was breathing heavily, both from running and from the energy I had spent Casting the entire time. Hands on my knees, I took a moment to recover. When my heart finally began to slow, I straightened up, wiped the sweat from my face, and approached the little house. I wasn¡¯t certain what I would find if I knocked on the door, but I was too na?ve at that time to consider doing anything but walking right up to it and finding out.


    The house was a small, depressing looking structure that was in dire need of repair and refurbishment, like both of its neighbors. A quick glance around me told me that if Dorbish had a nice part of town, this was not it. Trash and rotten food cluttered the ground. Only a smattering of people were on the narrow street¡ªa vagabond who was napping against the wall of a nearby building and a few folk who walked swiftly and with the hoods of their cloaks up, as if they knew that to dally here after the sun went down was to invite danger.


    I raised my hand to knock on the shabby looking door in front of me when it abruptly opened. A large, pale man filled its frame, torch in his right hand.


    ¡°What do you want?¡± He peered down at me as if I were a bug that had wandered into his path, and he was contemplating whether to squash it. When he spoke, I could see that despite the shabby exterior of his living quarters, his own body was clean and well maintained. His white teeth gleamed in the torchlight. My body began to prepare me to flee before my mind had a chance to catch up.


    This was a predator. Time to tread carefully.


    ¡°Apologies for disturbing you at this late hour. My name is . . . Filo. ¡± I saw no reason to give this man my real name. ¡°I¡¯m here to see my friend.¡±


    I tried to sound noble and imposing, a force to be reckoned with, but there¡¯s only so much a slender 16-year-old boy can do in the presence of an absolute unit of a man.


    The burly man squinted, taking a closer look at me upon my mention of the word ¡°friend.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s no one here but me.¡±


    ¡°Uh, I¡¯m sorry if I held her up. I wanted to apologize and let you know that it¡¯s my fault she was late.¡±


    Oh, younger me. What a fool you were back then. What a na?ve fool.


    ¡°There¡¯s no one here but me,¡± the man repeated. ¡°Now leave.¡± And then he shut the door in my face. I hadn¡¯t gotten his name, but I would find out shortly that the man I had just met was a fellow called Fodyrn. A real nasty fellow.


    If I could do it all over again¡ªif I had known at that moment what I would eventually learn about Fodyrn, about this house¡ªI would have walked up to that shack and as soon as he showed his face, proceeded to blast Fodyrn into submission with a few choice spells.


    Younger me really had no idea how bad people could be and how you had to deal with the foul ones. I don¡¯t have that problem anymore. I didn¡¯t fully learn this truth until years later, after I made a few more costly mistakes, but my misstep with Fodyrn was an early preview of what was to come. What can I say? I try to assume the best in people.


    I turned and walked back the way I had come, unsure of my next steps. Fodyrn saved me the trouble of thinking about this one too long, because a few moments later my world went black.


    * * *


    I awoke slowly, my head ringing with pain thanks to the bash I had taken to the back my skull. It hurt to open my eyes, but fortunately for my aching head the room I was in was almost dark, a small, solitary candle flickering in a neaby sconce. I was underground. The lack of ambient light from any windows and the stale air made me feel pretty good about that assumption.


    My hands were bound just above my head and I hung from them, which caused a horrible ache in my arms and shoulders. My feet hung free but were bound together with a rope. I closed my eyes again. I couldn¡¯t hear so much as a cricket chirping. No point in calling out for help.


    I wasn¡¯t an expert on the workings of the criminal underworld, but even a fool¡ªand I was definitely a fool at this point¡ªcould offer some decent guesses as to why he had me tied up in an underground room somewhere. The scary looking man wanted to know how I knew who the girl was or how I had tracked her to this house. I was thinking which one he might care about more when I realized I wasn¡¯t alone. It was a strange, but no longer unfamiliar feeling.


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    The room appeared to be empty save for a small table and chair in the center of the room and the aforementioned sconce. If I hadn¡¯t recently experienced the feeling of having my mind . . . manipulated, for lack of a better word, I would have trusted my eyes. But I know understood that my senses could not be trusted.


    I turned my head toward the corner of the room I felt most certain was empty (an odd thing to think when dealing with a small, barren room with corners one should be equally confident are empty) and focused on seeing who I knew was there. It was much harder with a splitting headache and eyes that wanted to be closed. After a few long seconds of focusing I finally started to make her out, leaning against the wall. Not clearly, but enough to know she was there.


    ¡°Nice of you to make time to visit me.¡± I tried to sound calm, despite the situation I found myself in. I had a few things going for me. First, there was my great relief that I had successfully tracked the girl down and not let her slip away forever. Second, I had the wonderful naivet¨¦ of a privileged young man who¡¯s never really had to deal with a nasty situation. Well, outside of being forced to eat mushrooms and sleeping outside on the rough ground when he would rather be in a comfy bed with a good book.


    The girl was simply staring at me, and as I began to see her face more clearly, I could see her expression growing darker when she realized she had been noticed once again.


    I needed to figure this girl out. ¡°What¡¯s your name?¡± I gave her a weak smile. I didn¡¯t have a lot of experience with other kids, but I felt like this would have been a tough case regardless.


    The girl simply folded her arms across her chest, squinted her eyes at me, and was gone.


    ***


    I came to with the realization that I must have slipped unconscious again. My arms and shoulders had somehow found a way to hurt even more. All things considered, I was doing okay, except for my parched throat, the deep regret I hadn¡¯t eaten even a few bites before chasing the girl, and a damp sensation on my leg that suggested I had urinated on myself. Okay, yeah, you could make the case that things were not going great.


    At this point you¡¯re probably wondering why I hadn¡¯t just spelled my way off the wall. Maybe you¡¯re yelling at past me to get my act together. First off, mean. Second, this all happened a long time ago, so you¡¯re wasting your breath. I¡¯ll have judgmental you know I had what felt like a good reason for holding back. The shock that someone would abduct me had now turned my mind to the possibilities of all kinds of nastiness. The first of which was that the man I had met at the door was potentially a far better mage / fighter / killer than me and that any attempt I made to flee would result in immediate negative consequences from which there would be no second chances.


    The smack to my head had brought to mind one of my father¡¯s many lessons¡ªI could practically hear his voice in my head¡ª¡°When you find yourself in a sticky situation and are unsure of what to do, consider first the possibility of doing nothing, as your best option might not be immediately apparent.¡±


    Of course, there were exceptions, like maybe you were in a burning building . . . or a pack of wolves was chasing you. Actually, there were a whole slew of exceptions, but the exceptions only proved the rule¡ªwhen the cost of failure was high, be certain before taking any action. I wasn¡¯t sure how high a price I would pay for messing up here, but it seemed prudent to consider that it might include never leaving this room alive.


    What someone even as idiotically na?ve as I was realized at this moment was that I would have some time to face and evaluate my foe. If he had wanted me dead, I would already be dead. I silently vowed that leaving me alive would be a mistake that cost him dearly.


    I heard the door open and to my surprise I could now make out the violet-eyed girl out with ease. In her hand she held a cup of some sort of liquid. She walked up to me, placing the cup to my lips. As thirsty as I was, I hesitated.


    She shook her head as if she knew what I was thinking and motioned with her free hand to hurry up. I relented and took several gulps of cool water. It occurred to me as I swallowed the briny yet somehow still delicious liquid that I knew a water purification spell, but¡ªwater down the hatch¡ªI consoled myself by considering that until I knew more, it was better to hold off on any spell casting.


    ¡°Not much of a talker are you,¡± I managed to croak out after a few gulps of precious water.


    She nodded her head in agreement. This was progress. Something other than frowning or disappearing on me. I would find out much later how much effort it had taken for her to enter that room fully visible. But of course, I was too young and worried about not dying to think about such things in that moment.


    ¡°Any chance you can let me out of these chains?¡±


    She hesitated. I tried to guess why.


    ¡°I won¡¯t go anywhere, at least not yet. If you¡¯re worried about getting in trouble you can chain me back up, but if I don¡¯t have a few minutes to relax my arms and shoulders I may not last until your boss decides to visit.¡±


    She pondered something for a few seconds and¡ªwhether it was my words or something she thought of herself¡ªshe pulled the chair over, stood on it and undid the lock holding my hands against the wall. I unceremoniously hit the floor and crumpled to the ground. I was still in pain as my arms adjusted to freedom, but at the same time a sense of relief came over me as the throbbing in my shoulders began to recede somewhat.


    ¡°Is the . . . big guy nearby?¡± I didn¡¯t know if they were related, but I didn¡¯t want to presume one way or the other for now.


    She slowly shook her head ¡°no,¡± but I got the feeling she actually meant yes. I thought of what I could say or do to get her to open up to me. For all I knew, she was here on behalf of the scary brute and attempting to get some information out of me.


    ¡°You can at least tell me your name. Mine¡¯s Warren.¡± I decided to go with honesty. It turns out that I¡¯m a terrible liar, but it should also be said that there is power in saying what is true. Every mage knows that.


    She looked at me with a very serious face, which made her look far older than the 10 or 12 she appeared at first glance. And then she pointed at her eye. I was confused. She pointed at her chest and then her eye again, this time holding her finger in front of her eye and looking at me expectantly.


    ¡°Your name is Eyeball.¡± She squinted at me, her head tilting sideways, as if making sure I was being serious and then shook her head again before pointing at her chest and then her eye again.


    ¡°You¡¯re trying to tell me your name though.¡± She nodded her head vigorously this time.


    ¡°Your name is Brow. . . Eyelash . . . no it¡¯s Pupil . . . surely your name isn¡¯t Cheeks.¡± She indicated no after each guess, while continuing to point to her eye. I could see her growing frustration and decided this probably wasn¡¯t a great time to be teasing her. I knew her name. I couldn¡¯t explain why, but I felt like I had always known her name.


    ¡°Your name is Iris.¡±

 Fodyrn

    The door swung open and the brute I had met at the door walked in. He somehow looked calm and menacing at the same time, like he was headed out to pick up some food at the market and then kill a few people afterward. Iris immediately vanished, but not before the man had caught a glimpse of her.


    I was still sitting on the floor, rubbing my shoulders. There was no point in pretending I was still in my shackles, and he didn¡¯t seem to be too bothered by that fact, other than slightly furrowing his brow when he saw me.


    ¡°Iris.¡±


    He said the word like it was a command and she immediately reappeared and came within a few feet of him. He slapped her once, right across the face. Just enough to sting, but not enough to bruise. He was an experienced hitter of people. ¡°I told you to bring water but said nothing about releasing him. We¡¯ll discuss this later.¡±


    I was not a fan of the way he said the word ¡°discuss.¡± Not one bit. Iris simply stood there, emotionless and unmoving.? She was well versed in the art of being hit.? Fodyrn then gave the slightest of nods and she was gone. I had no mental energy to spare to try to track her location for I was now expending it all on the man before me.


    He grabbed the chair near me like it was a dried twig and set it so the back faced me before straddling it, his eyes never leaving me. ¡°Hello, Warren, you can call me Fodyrn, nice to meet you.¡± Fodyrn, grinned as he spoke.


    Sigh.


    As much as I loved to read about it, I wasn¡¯t really cut out for subterfuge and trickery. It was a good thing my conversation with Iris had been as short as it was. Who knew what else I had been prepared to tell her, and apparently Fodyrn as well? Not that I had that much to hide, other than my origin. I wondered what he would do if he knew I was the son of Mathias Elusen.


    A part of me wondered if my best bet was to come clean about my identity and hope for a ransom. I wasn¡¯t sure if my father would even try to get me free, or if he would leave me to my own devices as some sort of object lesson. But I also doubted that this man had the means to prevent my rescue. He looked scary, but next to my father he was like a candle next to the sun. Regardless, I wasn¡¯t in the mood for pleasantries. My arms ached so much I could barely think straight.


    ¡°How can I help you?¡± I did my best to not sound like I was half his size, on the floor, and sore from hanging by my wrists.


    ¡°For starters you can tell me how you found this place. I know Iris didn¡¯t tell you about it. She can¡¯t. Who was it? Give me a name and maybe I¡¯ll let you live.¡±


    Can¡¯t. Not wouldn¡¯t. I filed that away for later. I also found it odd that a clearly secretive man would be so free with the girl¡¯s¡ªwith Iris¡¯s name. Which either meant that it was of no importance, or he didn¡¯t intend to let me leave this room alive.


    ¡°I would tell you, but then I would have to kill you.¡± I chuckled at my feeble attempt at bravado.


    He ignored my joke and began muttering to himself, ¡°I¡¯m missing something . . . I know of no one alive who would divulge this place to a rat such as yourself. They would have nothing to gain and everything to lose . . . and yet . . . the fact remains that you knew there was a girl who lived here. You haven¡¯t begged for release, which tells me you aren¡¯t as innocent as you look . . . unless, no. Impossible. Are you, by chance, a mage?¡± The last part was said with a sudden ferocity that it made me scoot back a few inches without realizing it.


    * * *


    ¡°And that¡¯s how you can tell if someone is a mage,¡± my father was explaining.


    ¡°But what if they knew you were looking for the signs? What if they were trying to hide the fact that they were a mage. How could you tell then?¡±


    ¡°Well, what do you think?¡± It was his favorite response to my questions, and it always drove me crazy. But I knew I wouldn¡¯t get anything from him until I gave it my best attempt.


    ¡°Um, ah . . .¡± I thought about it for a minute. ¡°Then it¡¯s a matter of who controls their connection to the mana better?¡±


    His eyes twinkled at my response. ¡°Perhaps. What do you think of this?¡±


    Suddenly he was gone . . . except he was still there. It was as if his connection to the world had been completely severed, like I was looking at a statue of my father, or perhaps a corpse.


    ¡°Okay, I see. Only a powerful mage could silence their connection to the mana so thoroughly. So I would say here you went too far. All people are connected to the mana of the world in some fashion, whether they are mages or not. You¡¯ve got to reduce your connection, but only enough to make yourself look like a regular person.¡±


    He nodded. ¡°Precisely. It¡¯s like holding something heavy in your hand but making it look to someone else that your hand is holding something light. Of course, if someone is a more experienced mage than you, they will likely be able to tell you are a mage regardless of how hard you try to hide it.¡±


    * * *


    Fodyrn was not a mage.


    Or, if he was, he was playing mind games on me that made no sense. I had been doing my best to hide the fact that I was a mage the entire time I was in this room. I had no real reason to do so, except that it felt like too good of an ace card to reveal until I had to. The second he walked in the room I had been trying to ascertain if Fodyrn was a mage.


    Either this man was a far better mage than I¡ªsomeone who could totally mask his abilities from me¡ªor he had no abilities whatsoever. The former seemed unlikely. And, besides, if he was far more powerful than me, than he would already know I was a mage. Which didn¡¯t seem to be the case. Either way, it was time to show my hand.


    ¡°And if I was . . .¡±


    A bit of fear flickered across his eyes. Or maybe confusion. It was both.


    ¡°Impossible. We¡¯ve killed all the unbound mages. They¡¯ve been dead for years.¡± His entire body was tense, ready to spring. ¡°Even suggesting such a thing is a death sentence.¡±


    Now I was confused. I knew my father, a mage. If mages were being slaughtered so close to our home, how was my father not aware of this? Or, if he was aware, why had he not done something about it? I shook my head¡ªthere would be time to figure this out later¡ªfor now I needed to focus on making sure there was a later.


    Fodyrn appeared to come to a decision of his own, because I saw him start to move out of the chair and begin to lunge toward me, a knife suddenly in his hand. There was killing intent in his eyes.


    I should note here that it is much, much harder to manipulate or otherwise affect a person¡¯s body against their will¡ªsay light them on fire or push them back¡ªcompared to something like a chair. Depending on the person it can be done, but you should never assume you¡¯ll be able to do it. On the other hand . . . if there¡¯s a chair between you and a person you want to push back, well, my father would call it a difference without a distinction.


    The look of shock on Fodyrn¡¯s face as he flew back, unable to resist the pressure of the chair that was pushing him, told me he was not used to doing battle with a mage. And I wasn¡¯t going to let him get comfortable. As soon as he hit the opposing wall, I was ready, a ball of fire larger than his head floating above my hand, illuminating the previously dimly lit room as if the sun had just risen. While people were hard to manipulate, the air was eager to burn.


    Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.


    ¡°In the chair.¡± I nodded at the apparently very sturdy chair that was on its side, next to the brute who was now sprawled ungracefully on the floor. He rose slowly, first righting the chair, placing it next to the small wooden table, and then sitting in it, never letting his eyes leave me. I used Object Manipulation on the chains that had bound me just a few minutes ago, ripping them from the wall and directing them to wrap themselves around his arms and chest. Fordyrn¡¯s fear had been replaced with a look of hate.


    ¡°Is it really true that there are no more mages?¡±


    ¡°How do you not know about the end of mages? Where do you come from?¡±


    ¡°Well, for starters, I¡¯m not from Dorbish.¡±


    ¡°I suppose it doesn¡¯t matter where you¡¯re from, now that you are here, The Midnight Company will come for you.¡±


    This was a new one. ¡°Tell me more about The Midnight Company.¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°Oh, I think you can.¡± I moved the fireball closer to his face. He started to sweat, which was more likely from the heat of the flame rather than nervousness, as Fodyrn seemed utterly calm now. I guess the shock of discovering that I was mage had worn off. Well, he was the professional here.


    ¡°No, I really can¡¯t,¡± Fodyrn insisted. ¡°Not that I would. I must really be getting sloppy to have said the name aloud, but I guess I viewed you as a dead man and the restriction didn¡¯t activate.¡±


    ¡°Wait¡ªspell¡ªyou said there were no mages.¡±


    ¡°There aren¡¯t any.¡±


    ¡°How could there be a spell then.¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t tell you that.¡± He tone was not apologetic, just matter of fact.


    ¡°Because of the spell,¡± I finished for him. I tapped my feet. We weren¡¯t getting anywhere. ¡°What can you tell me?¡± I put the flame away. I wasn¡¯t really cut out for threatening people with flames. At this point I figured Fodyrn would either tell me what I wanted to know, or he wouldn¡¯t. There were other ways to find out what was going on, I hoped. And it was getting hot. And, you know, there was only so much air to burn in this room.


    He looked at my now empty hand for a second or two before answering. ¡°Truthfully, and I don¡¯t mean this in a threatening way, all I can tell you is the moment you walked up to this house you became a dead man. Maybe not by my hands. But death awaits you. If anyone else has seen you cast a spell, you won¡¯t make it through the end of tomorrow. I don¡¯t know where you¡¯re from or where you¡¯ve been hiding, but if you have any hope at all, it¡¯s that no one other than myself knows about you yet and you have a spell that can take you back to your hiding place. Right now. Even killing me will only delay the inevitable. They will send someone when I fail to appear and when they arrive, they will know a spell has been cast here. And then they will track you down.¡±


    Teleportation. Such a thing was possible, but it was beyond me. From what my father had taught me, only the most advanced mages could handle the instantaneous movement of objects between two places, and the Teleportation of living things was harder still. My father could do it, of course¡ªhe had Teleported us both a few times before¡ªbut I couldn¡¯t begin to imagine casting such a spell on myself, not to mention Iris, whom I had already decdied I needed to convince to join me. When you messed up Object Reconstruction, you ended up with a mangled object. When you failed to properly Teleport a person. . . yeah, that wasn¡¯t something I wanted to try at this exact moment.


    ¡°First, Fodyrn, thanks for calling me a man, even if it followed the word ¡®dead.¡¯ That means a lot. Truly it does. Second, I never properly thanked you for your housewarming gift.¡±


    I used Object Manipulation to pull the chains and slam Fodyrn¡¯s head into the table, knocking him out. Looking back on it now, I would have saved Iris and myself some trouble had I just killed him then and there. He was right that it would have only delayed things, but loose ends are loose ends.


    As I said, I wasn¡¯t a killer. I was a 16-year-old boy with a splitting headache. And I knew if I were to kill this cruel brute then he wouldn¡¯t be able to enjoy waking up with the same splitting headache he had given me. One thing that hasn¡¯t changed about me, when it comes to enjoying life, it¡¯s the little things.


    ¡°Let¡¯s go,¡± I urged, motioning toward the door. Iris was standing in shock next to Fodyrn, looking at his unconscious body in disbelief.


    Iris¡¯s face was filled with what looked like wonder, as if she had just witnessed a cow perform a handstand and was not sure if it had happened or how she felt about it. She looked up at me with awe.


    I could only shrug in response. I had only known Fodyrn a short time and despite his physicality and cruelty he didn¡¯t seem all that impressive. He wasn¡¯t equipped to handle a mage, that¡¯s for sure. But to a young girl who had known nothing else, I guess Fodyrn was a force to be reckoned with. Or maybe I got lucky. I shook my head. It was time to get out of here. I had no idea how much time we had until Fodyrn woke up or the Midnight Company showed up. And I needed to spend a few minutes exploring the house before we left. Something interesting had to be here.


    ¡°Iris, we need to go,¡± I repeated. ¡°I understand that Fodyrn was your boss, but your time with him has come to an end. I can¡¯t promise you endless luxuries, but I can promise you that I won¡¯t slap you when I¡¯m frustrated and that¡¯s gotta be a good start. First, we need to scour this place for anything we can find about your former boss or The Midnight Company that might help us evade them in the coming days. Also, grab whatever stuff you don¡¯t want to leave behind. With any luck, neither of us will ever see this dump ever again.¡±


    I did my best to sound calm. The truth was, I was freaking out. Thanks perhaps to the element of surprise, Fodyrn was easily dealt with, but I had somehow drawn the attention of some nefarious organization that had the power to track mages and wanted them dead. I was drawing blanks on what that all meant. Admittedly, it can be hard to think clearly when you''re trying to run for your life. For all I knew, whoever placed the speech restriction on Fodyrn might also have some way of detecting that he¡¯d been knocked out just now. Someone might be on their way right now to investigate.


    Iris stared at me for several seconds and then back at Fodyrn. Then she vanished.


    I took another look at the brute sprawled on the floor, face up. It occurred to me he might have something on his person that I could use. I checked his pockets, but they were empty. The only thing of interest on his whole person was a metal necklace. If this was all he had on him, I figured it had to be important. As I removed the necklace, I discovered a small medallion attached to the chain. There was a fist embossed on the face of it surrounded by a cicrle. I had never seen the image before.


    I grabbed my bag, which Fodyrn had kindly left in the room where he had taken me, quickly checked to make sure my stuff was still all present and accounted for, and then headed out the door. I found myself in a dark stairwell and I hurriedly climbed a few dozen steps. It seemed that Fodyrn didn¡¯t want any screams to be heard outside the house while interrogating people. That tiny room had to be a good 30 feet below ground. A little out of breath¡ªreading all day doesn¡¯t exactly condition one¡¯s body into a finely tuned instrument¡ªI opened a door at the top of the stairwell and walked inside what I assumed was the shack that I had been standing outside of not that long ago.


    ¡°Iris, are there any documents or money or anything else we can grab?¡± I had no idea if she could hear me, but I presumed that she could. For a few heartbeats I thought maybe she had just left me for good or was running to go inform The Midnight Company of my whereabouts, but as suddenly as she had vanished, she appeared before me, grinning, holding a satchel on her back that seemed too large for such a small person. Either it wasn¡¯t that heavy, or she could carry more than her appearance would suggest. Given her profession as a ¡°mover of goods,¡± I thought there was a good chance it was the latter.


    She gave me a firm nod that said she was ready to go.


    ¡°Wait, shouldn¡¯t we search the place first?¡± I was a little surprised at how fast she had gotten ready. In the short time she had been gone I would still have been in front of my dresser, debating which of my favorite socks to bring. As everyone knows, not all socks are created equal.


    She looked at me a bit confused and then shrugged.


    Hmmm. I wanted to get the heck out of there¡ªevery creak of the house made me nervous, filling my head with thoughts that Fodyrn was awake and had somehow freed himself from the chains. While the urge to leave was strong, I had another strong feeling that I needed to double check the house for anything of interest. This was likely our one and only chance. If we ever did come back here, I was sure Fodyrn and anything of value would be long gone. This shack didn¡¯t exactly shout ¡°permanent residence.¡±


    ¡°Where¡¯s his room?¡±


    She took off down a hallway, turning right at the first door she came to. I was close behind. Inside was a small and tidy room with a desk, a one-person bed, and a dresser. I guess professional fixer or whatever he did for The Midnight Company didn¡¯t pay that well. Or Fodyrn spent his money something other than household furnishings.


    I stood still and closed my eyes.


    Iris started to tap her feet audibly.


    ¡°I¡¯m doing mage things, now let me think.¡± I wasn¡¯t used to having a companion.


    My mind wandered. I could feel the mana flowing around the room. I could also hear it. Everything had a place, an identity. It all seemed normal, perhaps there was nothing, except maybe¡ª


    The tapping resumed, more urgently now.


    I spoke again, taking a deep breath first, ¡°I¡¯m trying to listen to the mana in the room¡ªit¡¯s not easy. Just give me a minute. I think I sense something. Whatever it is, someone didn¡¯t want me to find it.¡±


    I calmed my mind again, taking in my surroundings, letting the feelings of being present flow through me, I could sense the bed, the dresser, the floor, the wall¡ªthere!¡ªgot you. Along one wall there was an alcove. It looked like a solid wall to the eye, but I could see that there was a square cutout in the wall, about 2 feet across. I walked over and reached my hand inside. I found a bundle, wrapped in fabric, which I placed in my bag. There would be time for examining what was inside later. Maybe there were more such hidden places in the house, but I decided it was time to get the heck out of town. It was time to see my father. I had a few questions I needed to ask him.