ã€ŠMinor Mageã€‹


 Prologue

    Ashur¡¯s face was red with anger while his father watched him stripping laces. It was hard working for a peasant cobbler and even harder when he¡¯s your father.

    ¡°I can¡¯t keep the knife straight long enough, Da,¡± Ashur growned.

    Fed up with his insolence, Adrian glared at the brown haired child, ¡°You¡¯ll do it and give me no lip boy.¡±

    ¡°I won¡¯t do it! I hate being an apprentice, I hate working in this shop, I hate that you¡¯re fixing boots for filthy farm hands.¡±

    Adrian grabbed a fourteen-inch work boot within arm¡¯s reach, whipping it at the boy hard. He regretted it immediately. Clearly the apple didn¡¯t fall far from the tree. Having been a little older than Ashur in his memories, he remembered the awful violent fights with his own father. Flashes of the old man, drunk with fists balled up and screaming, crossed his mind. More than once the mean bastard took his frustrations out on Adrian¡¯s body while his younger brother watched.

    ¡°He¡¯s five years old god damn, ye,¡± Adrian thought to himself. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t want to be strippin¡¯ no damn laces either.¡±

    Adrian turned to his son, embarrassed by his actions and determined to do better. He could tell Ashur was boiling mad, unhappy with his situation in life and frustrated with his lack of choice. At five-years-old, decisions are often made for you, like when to wake up, eat, sleep, work or play. People even told you when to feel happy or sad. An unusually bright child, the boy had told him more than once:The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    ¡°I¡¯ll feel what I want to feel and I¡¯ll do what I want to do.¡±

    Ashur¡¯s face changed suddenly, like the boy had just swallowed a frog. While still holding the knife, he started waving the hand around in front him in slow movements.

    Bosse, an eight-month-old mutt Ashur had begged for going into his fifth birthday, jaunted into the workshop. Adrian had agreed to get the dog for Ashur but was set on using the animal as a conduit to learn responsibility and gaining a sense of duty.

    ¡°I won¡¯t feed your dog, Ashur. I won¡¯t teach him right from wrong. These are your responsibilities and it¡¯s part of owning a pet. If the dog gets in trouble, you¡¯ll be the one to blame,¡± Adrian told his son when he presented him with the puppy.

    And Ashur had met the task well. Bosse had been house broken for months and knew several commands. Dogs will be dogs, however, and Adrian¡¯s workbench was strewn with tools, old hides, and most importantly that day: the remains of Adrian¡¯s lunch. Being oddly distracted with his hand waving, the boy did not notice the animal¡¯s trajectory in time.

    ¡°Bosse, No!¡± Ashur yelled as the dog jumped toward the plate.

    In his hurry to correct the mutt, Ashur had yelled, dropped the knife and lunged at the dog. Adrian could feel some sort of pressure building up in the room, and thousands of tiny goose bumps emerged from his arms. Ashur¡¯s knees suddenly gave way as if exhaustion overcame him, and he collapsed to the floor. Shaking, Ashur got back to his feet and saw Bosse lay on the floor lifeless.

    ¡°Bosse!¡± Ashur knelt beside his dog confused about what had happened. The child had no idea why there was an expanding pool of blood growing around the fallen animal. ¡°Da, I don¡¯t understand. What¡¯s wrong with Bosse,¡± he cried as he crawled through the sticky red circle to hold his dog.

    Adrian had seen it though. After the boy dropped stripping knife it hit the ground, bounced and immediately flew towards the dog as fast as if it had been thrown. Adrian had heard rumors of this happening occasionally but never thought to see it himself. His son had just used mana.

    ¡°My god,¡± Adrian thought. ¡°The boy¡¯s a mage.¡±

 Chapter 1

    Chapter 1

    Ashur PoV

    Crossing through a vestibule, a five-year-old boy squirmed nervously in a thick, padded chair beside his father. Stained shirts over burlap trousers made him feel out of place in the immaculate tower. They had been waiting for hours in a foyer, waiting to meet one of the towers illustrious occupants. His father sat in the chair next to him, at stayed unusually quiet as he gazed silently at the heavy, black stone walls. Intricate designs carved into them told a story he didn¡¯t know. A knight, a giant, a minotaur, and a mage were all laid out like constellations at war. Only you couldn¡¯t tell who was fighting whom.

    High above their heads, iron lighting fixtures supported a glowing blue flame brighter than anything he¡¯d seen. Ashur was told they were enchanted lights. Not uncommon, but more expensive than anything the either had ever laid eyes upon. The lights had to be recharged regularly, which required the talents of a mage, and those kinds of talents didn¡¯t come cheap. Hundreds of these lights ran along the tops of the angled walls of the Mage¡¯s Guild, a clear testament to the source of the magic items.

    ¡°I wonder if I¡¯ll be able to make some of those for my room,¡± Ashur thought to himself.

    He wanted to go inspect them, but he knew this was no place to play around. Adrian had told him that a wrong look or misspoken word at the guild could land them both in dire straits. Those inside were either men of nobility or fierce battle mages, neither of which should be offended at any cost.

    The Mage¡¯s Guild was home to most the magic users in the kingdom. Inherent magic usually followed bloodlines, giving every child of a mage had a very strong chance of inheriting the gift. It was rarer to have a mage born amongst the general population but not unheard of. The odds were stacked against it though, with only one out of every five hundred commoners being born with the ability.

    Being blessed with an inherent mana pool wasn¡¯t enough though, you needed to be able to use it. The only way to do that was through spells, and that knowledge was tightly horded by the guild, which in turn gave them control over most of the kingdom¡¯s magic. Although there were other groups amongst the kingdom that were trained to manipulate other forms of mana, and there was actually a royal academy for casters like wizards, the Mage¡¯s Guild was the largest by far.

    A gangly, pimply-faced apprentice wearing a long, blue robe approached the pair sitting on the bench.

    ¡°Follow me,¡± the apprentice barked, his voice cracking awkwardly. He hurried off without a care, not glancing once to see if he was being followed, and leaving Ashur and his father scrambling to catch up.

    The apprentice led the pair through winding passageways adorned with beautiful murals and lit with more enchanted lights. The narrow hallways smelled of juniper, which his father said reminded him of own mother, and put them both more at ease. Not sure if it was an enchantment or coincidence, the two did not investigate the source and hurried to keep up.

    The group came to a small room containing an ornate glass table and three chairs. The boy hadn¡¯t seen a piece of furniture yet that he wanted to touch. He was afraid that even his presence alone would mar their beauty. An unimaginable battle scene was etched into the tabletop. The minotaur from the foyer held a war axe, facing off against a small army of dwarves. Above the army was what looked like a grand wizard, staff in hand. A wave of lightning shot forth from the wizard towards the horde. Ashur couldn¡¯t tell if the wizard was fighting with or against the Dwarves, but he was too nervous to risk asking the story. He just filed the sight away in his mind, another wonder of the guild.

    The apprentice mage pointed toward the three chairs, ¡°M¡¯lord will be here shortly,¡± and promptly left the room.

    ¡°Da, why are we here?¡± the boy¡¯s mousy voice broke the silence that was stagnating in the room.

    ¡°Ashur, just as I told you on the King¡¯s Road, you¡¯re to be tested today,¡± his father whispered.

    Ashur was a tiny lad. At five years and nine months he¡¯d pass for a child two thirds his age. Tussled sandy brown hair sat atop his head. His skin was already tanned from playing outdoors; a telling indicator of his family¡¯s place in society. He was not underfed but was already developing a lean, sinewy look that matched his father¡¯s. Even on a cobbler¡¯s wages, there had been some hard times in the city, and food was scarce.

    ¡°Do you really think I can be a mage, Da?¡± Ashur asked.

    ¡°That¡¯s what we¡¯re here to find out. Now stand still and be quiet. You need to make a good impression in front of this wizard, er, mage, or whatever he is,¡± the man sighed.

    The broad oak double doors burst apart as if a gust of wind had thrown them open. A tall, painfully thin man entered the room with a flare. His black robe was so dark it seemed never ending, like a moonless winter night. Gold runes were embroidered up the robe¡¯s sleeves, and a multicolored glyph that Ashur had never seen before covered the mage¡¯s heart.

    ¡°State your names,¡± the mage sighed as he sat down.

    ¡°I am Adrian of Shogon¡¯s Gate and this is my boy, Ashur,¡± his father replied after taking off his hat and wringing it in his hands.

    The mage scoured at Adrian, ¡°Of course I know who you are. How dare you insult my intelligence? I¡¯d tell you my name but simply hearing it might kill you both¡­¡±

    ¡°Alright, fine. I¡¯ll tell you. I am Poupon The Magnificent.¡±

    The mage went silent and stared at the father and son for what seemed to be an eternity, ¡°Alright, well, you survived hearing my name and thus have passed the first test.¡±

    Ashur couldn¡¯t tell if the mage was serious, taunting them, or just a whacky blowhard.

    ¡°I have been told you think the child is a mage. Tell me why,¡± Poupon¡¯s voice brimmed with a casual arrogance, apparently a common skill honed within the guild.

    ¡°M¡¯lord, several months ago, my son became upset and seems to have killed our dog,¡± Adrian stammered.

    ¡°I think that¡¯s more likely to make him a serial killer than a mage, fool. We¡¯re better off going ahead and having the poor child executed now to save innocent lives. Guards!¡± Poupon yelled.

    ¡°No, no, m¡¯lord! He killed the dog by accident, from across the room¡­.. without touching him,¡± Adrian cried. ¡°The Earl¡¯s mandate states that we must report to the guild if we suspect someone of performing magic.¡±

    If a person is blessed with innate ability to store mana, the energy must be intentionally drained periodically or it would find its own escape. Case in point, Bosse the dog. A century prior, after a string of unexpected explosions and innocent deaths, the Earl¡¯s father had made it mandatory for all those with inherent mana be tested and subsequently registered. If parents failed to register their children, they¡¯d be held accountable for the child¡¯s mana. Depending on the incident, that could be a fine, indentured servitude, or death.

    Poupon stood up, placing his hand on the boy¡¯s forehead. His thin, liver spotted fingers were like icicles dangling from his palm.

    ¡°Be still boy!¡± the mage snapped as Ashur tried to pull away.

    ¡°Inspect Person!¡± Poupon intoned, clearly using a skill. ¡°Hmm, he isn¡¯t a one trick pony like the Gifted, there is something more, but it¡¯s weak.¡±

    Ashur felt the cold seep from Poupon¡¯s palm, chilling his thoughts, but it didn¡¯t lower his excitement. Being Gifted was generally a blessing, but it was sometimes a curse. The Gifted were born with an ability to do one certain thing, a single magical knack. It could be anything from shooting blazing beams of fire from their eyes, to always waking up with perfect hair, but like any other inherent mana user the energy had to be used, or it would go off randomly. Poupon let out a dramatic sigh, looking down at the now half-conscious boy.

    ¡°He has the mage¡¯s gift, with multiple affinities as well, but it is weak. His strongest seems to be force magic, which fits the incident with your mutt. It matters little though. His mana pool is most the pathetic I¡¯ve ever seen,¡± The old mage intoned.

    Poupon grabbed his staff resting against the table, standing tall before Adrian and Ashur, ¡°By edict of the Earl, you¡¯re are being given the most basic spell of your affinity and a modicum of instruction.¡±Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

    ¡°Has the boy been imprinted with anything yet?¡±

    ¡°No sir,¡± answered Adrian.

    ¡°He should have plenty of anima for a minor spell then,¡± Poupon again wrapped his corpselike fingers around the child¡¯s skull and intoned, ¡°Imprint Spell: Grasping Hand!¡±

    And nothing happened.

    ¡°That¡¯s odd, but I supposed that such a young soul may not yet be solidified enough to imprint, especially a black soul capable of canine mutilation,¡± Poupon stated. ¡°I guess you¡¯ll have to do this the old way.¡±

    ¡°It was an accident. He¡¯s just a kid¡­¡± Adrian started.

    ¡°Shut it! Can you read?¡± Poupon asks.

    ¡°Yes, yes, m¡¯lord. I can,¡± replied Adrian.

    ¡°Good, that saves me some trouble then. Wait here. An apprentice will return with the manual for Grasping Hand, the beginning Force Magic spell. It is a very basic spell that anyone with a mana pool can learn. At seven years of age, bring the child back to the guild for retesting. If he cannot cast the spell by then, you¡¯ll be fined. And by the looks of you, you¡¯ll be paying that fine via imprisonment,¡± Poupon grinned.

    Adrian looking around nervously, ¡°But sir¡­¡±

    ¡°No buts!¡± Poupon yelled. ¡°A talented child can learn his first spell the old way in a few months. Surely your little wretch can learn it in over a year.¡±

    Poupon gliding to the doorway, with a graceful gait and feet unseen beneath long robes.

    ¡°And as I¡¯m sure you know, sharing information on spells from the Guild without consent is illegal. It is punishable by lashing or death, depending on the spell. If the manual isn¡¯t returned in the same condition it was lent to you, well a prayer to your god might help, but it won¡¯t save you,¡± Poupon hissed.

    Without another word, the mage was gone and Adrian sat in silence beside his son.

    The blue robed apprentice retuned with a thin, soft covered booklet containing only a few pages. He dropped it on the table in front of Adrian and left without speaking.

    ¡°Well, I guess that means we¡¯re done, come along Ashur,¡± said the tired cobbler.

    The two left the tower and began their long walk home though the city of Shogon¡¯s Gate. The Mage¡¯s Guild was in richest corner of the Merchant District, and far from where the poor cobbler lived with his only son. The hungry pair walked quickly in an attempt to make it home before dark. In the day time, most of the city could be considered to be reasonably safe, and where they lived near the city wall was not in a bad district. Still, it was near the border to Ragtown which meant that it would be wiser for them to be inside after sunset, even though they had almost nothing to steal.

    Shogon¡¯s Gate was not a large city, even by the standards of relatively small Kingdom of Dreham, and only had a population of around twenty thousand souls, but it was a notable one. It was located on the southern tip of a crescent shaped peninsula, with the other tip of the crescent only half a league away. The natural shape of the land formed a gateway from the Yalic Ocean to the shallow inland Glygh, and a constant crosswind kept the city smelling of salt and fish.

    To the southwest of the city lay the Green Expanse, a massive, untamed forest and well known monstrous zone. A towering wall, five times the height of a man, drew a straight line across the peninsula separating town proper from farmlands that were slowly eroding the edges of the forest in the name of growth. The wall was not just there for looks, and had been built after horde of monsters from the green had sacked the city fifty years ago.

    The young Ashur had been born in Shogon¡¯s Gate, so rather than worrying about monsters from the Green, he was fantasying about being a powerful mage. A hundred questions shot through Ashur¡¯s head, but he was too out of breath by the fast pace being set by his father to ask any of them. He started making a list of most important ones for when they finally returned home, but the childish thoughts soon disappeared at the thought of a meal upon arrival. It had been a long day waiting at the guild and both father and son were famished from the stressful ordeal.

    The family of two lived in the cobbler¡¯s tiny shop. It was a simple place, which catered to the working class of the city and residents of Ragtown. It had two rooms upstairs for sleeping, and a small kitchen behind the combined workspace and showroom downstairs. Adrian unlocked the front door and listened to the little bell over the door jingle when they entered. Stumbling to the kitchen after the long walk, the weary duo sat down to meager dinner of day old bread, toasted in the fire, and some hard cheese.

    They ate in silence, and it was not until after the dishes were clean that Ashur dared to speak to his tired father. Most of his questions already forgotten, the boy asked the ones that stood out the most.

    ¡°Da, how come they couldn¡¯t imprint me with that spell?¡±

    ¡°Dunno boy, probably just an age thing like that fella said.¡±

    ¡°Da, can you read me the book?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s been a long day boy, can it wait?¡±

    ¡°Please, please, please Da?¡± Ashur begged excitedly, ¡°I¡¯m gonna learn magic!¡±

    Sighing, Adrian wearily pulled out the thin magical study guide. Catching Ashur¡¯s eyes with his own, Adrian spoke in his most serious voice. It was the tone that Ashur heard when he was getting punished, and he paid close attention to his father¡¯s words.

    ¡°Boy, this book is worth more than the shop. It¡¯s worth more than our lives. If ya somehow muck up and damage it, they¡¯ll truss us up and sell us like slaves.¡± Adrian paused to let the gravity of his words sink in. ¡°May not seem it, but this life we live is better than most. There is plenty to eat, we got a roof over our head, and we got no one botherin¡¯ us. We may not be livin¡¯ like them bastard nobles, but we¡¯re a pair of princes compared to them poor bastards over in Ragtown.¡±

    ¡°We got us an opportunity here for an even better life, but screwin¡¯ it up means losin¡¯ everything. So from now on, you¡¯ll spend all your time learnin¡¯ that spell. Every day from breakfast until dinner you¡¯ll practice it, until ya got it good.¡±

    ¡°No food or drink near the book, and clean your dirty paws before you think of touchin¡¯ it. If it¡¯s not on the table being studied, it stays on that shelf right there. If I ever catch it otherwise, so help me I will tan the skin off your hide and use it for boots!¡±

    ¡°Once you learn it, no one sees you casting it but me. No one likes them stuck up mages, and it won¡¯t be doing us any good to let anyone know ya got magic tell you¡¯re properly guilded. So keep it a secret, ya hear?¡±

    Stunned by his father¡¯s intensity, Ashur replied with a quiet, ¡°Ok.¡±

    ¡°Now repeat what I just said.¡± Adrian ordered.

    Ashur was a little frightened by his father¡¯s demeanor, but fully intended to abide by his every instruction. He was getting to learn magic after all. After parroting back his father¡¯s rules he went and washed his hands. He then placed the book reverently on the kitchen table and then looked to his father for approval. At Adrian¡¯s nod he proceeded.

    The book¡¯s cover was made of soft hide and contained the spell¡¯s title, Grasping Hand, written in plain script. Opening to the first page Asbur saw a simple and yet complex symbol which his father told him was a rune. It was beautifully drawn by an expert calligrapher in seven smooth strokes of the pen. Some of the lines started fat and stayed wide, but others changed in width, slimming down to a point or even flaring out again.

    To Ashur¡¯s eyes, it was beautiful.

    Turning to the next page it read: The spell Grasping hand is considered the first spell within the Force affinity. It is classified as a minor rune based spell and is generally suitable for all mages. The spell grasps a small object and brings it to your hand.

    The initial cost of the spell is approximately 10 mana. To cast the spell study the entire rune on the previous page, which is the combination of the rune for a Force, F¨¤s, modified by the a movement rune, ?a, and the mana limiting ¨¬l. Picture the rune in your mind and channel mana into it. Next draw the rune in the air with your dominant hand while saying the entire rune aloud, ¨¬l-F¨¤s?a-<u>-</u>. While you are doing this, picture the item you want in your mind and then draw it to you.

    Practice without mana until you are able to do it consistently. Grasping Hand is a channeled spell and must be released by cutting your mana off from the rune. Using the base cost of the spell an object weighing up to one half stone can be lifted and or moved. The object must be within five paces. Lifting a heavier object will cost additional mana or require advanced mastery. If this is your first time learning a spell read the following page to learn to how to access your mana.

    Turning to the next and final page, Ashur learned how to manipulate his mana. It read: Inside of every mana user resides a container of energy, generally referred to as a mana pool. As soon as it is located by the user, they can usually instinctually feel it at all times. In order to cast spells, you must first practice basic mana control. Do so by drawing small amounts of mana from your pool, and then move into various points in your body. This will not harm the user, as the user¡¯s mana will recognize its own flesh and travel back to the pool naturally when it is not being manipulated. Do not under any means attempt to move the mana into another person, as it will likely result in the death or serious injury of one or both parties. Once the user is able to control the mana within his own body, he can then channel it into spells by forcing the mana into the rune building in his mind.

    The bottom of the page instructed him on the basics of meditation. It read: Mana will always regenerate based on the user¡¯s natural rate. The rate will improve over time depending on the amount of mana being used. The more you empty and fill your pool, the more your natural rate of recovery will improve. You can also draw in mana to fill your pool intentionally by meditating. The user needs to find a place he is comfortable and sit or lie down. The user then needs to clear his head, locate the ambient mana in the world and draw it to him. Some users feel it coming through their skin, some absorb it through their ears, for some the smelling is the key, and others breathe it in through their lungs. The user must find what is right for them. More detailed instruction and professional guidance is recommended.

    Ashur found the instructions both simple and complex at the same time. In the following weeks Adrian would be forced read the book to his son more times than he could count. It took Ashur a while to fully understand some of the concepts, but soon enough the boy had every word memorized, and the meaning of all the words filed away within his tiny head.

    For a book worth more than his life, it sure did not contain a lot of information. In fact the entire thing only left him wanting to know more. How did the runes work, how many were there and how were they discovered? Where did mana come from? What was it made of? Multitudes of unanswered questions stacked quickly inside of his young mind, and yet he had no one to ask about them

    Ashur watched his father worked hard every day to even provide them both such pathetic meals like potato soup and day old bread. Even before his father¡¯s speech he recognized that they lived better than most, but he wanted more to life then this simple survival. If he could become a guilded mage, they would live like kings, a fact that his father was now constantly reminding him of. They could have anything they wanted, if he just dedicated and worked hard enough. Hard work was something that Ashur could do, and every boy wanted to learn magic, so no extra dedication was needed.

    In a simple cobbler¡¯s shop, inside of a little kitchen, the tiny Ashur made a silent declaration. He didn¡¯t care what that goofy old fart Poupon said about his lack of ability. He was going to dedicate himself to magic and become one of the greatest mages Shogon¡¯s Gate has ever seen!

 Chapter 2

    Learning to cast the spell had not been an instant process. Finding his mana pool had been easy, instinctual even, like feeling out his soul space. It was a tiny balloon of energy that sat just below chest, right in the center of his body. Learning to manipulate the mana to move within him had been much more difficult. But after working on it constantly and failing for a whole week, he tried tackling the problem from a different angle by training meditation first.

    Ashur been most concerned learning to meditate. He was good at following instructions, but the concept as just so vague, and he figured learning to move his mana would be the easy part. Sitting still and emptying his mind seemed to be impossible. There were just too many interesting things out there to think about he thought. The idea of drawing in energy from the very air around him was mystifying.

    But in the end, it was as simple as breathing.

    Like the book suggested, Ashur had sat down on the floor and worked on clearing his mind. That was far easier said than done. He closed his eyes because the world around him was far too distracting, but that just seemed to make every one of his remaining senses heighten. He was soon amazed at the amount of noises inside his empty room. The wind rattled against the shutters, the boards creaked and groaned as the house shifted, his father was pounding on the sole of as boot downstairs. A hundred tiny sounds fought for his attention, until he finally decided that focusing on one of them would help him ignore the others. He needed something steady and soothing, a sound that would always be there wherever he chose to meditate. Ashur chose to center himself on the sound of his own breathing.

    By focusing on taking long and steady breaths, he was slowly able to shut off the rest of the world. They boy took to it like a fish to water, his mind relaxing as he focused on the feelings and sounds of air flowing in and out of his chest. When it felt right, he started around him for ambient mana. It was right there beside him, floating in the air around him. Ashur wondered at how he could have not noticed all this energy around him his entire life. The energy was so vast that it overwhelmed his senses, and he lost the feeling altogether.

    It took him fifteen minutes to return to the meditative state, but the next time he was better prepared for the experience. That time he was able to maintain the trance and study the mana around him. With his eyes closed he couldn¡¯t see anything, but the feel of it was very distinct. Little specs of magic floating around in the air, some drifting in an unknown current while others held still or moved in random patterns. The pieces grouped together with others that moved in similar manors, and each group had a different flavor to them.

    Looking inward he found the small dense bead of mana inside his center. After feeling how much mana was in the air, Ashur started to understand what Poupon had said about its diminutive size. It wouldn¡¯t take but a fraction of what was out there refill. Maybe it was like a muscle and would grow if it was used? Ashur hoped it would. Refocusing on his task he tried to pull the mana in and found that with only a smidgen of concentration, mana flowed into his lungs as he inhaled. It attempted linger in his center, but the little bead was full, and the mana drifted back into the air when he exhaled.

    The process clued Ashur in on how to manipulate his own personal mana. It was intensely complicated, yet simple all at once, like an intricate puzzle completed so many times it had lost its challenge. Whatever it was that held the mana tightly within the bead seemed wanted to keep it in. Like a keg prior to being tapped, a changed was needed for the contents to be released. Imagining a small door at the edge of the bead, he opened it. The mana immediately responded and flowed outwards, spreading out into his body in a disorganized fashion. Losing his train of thought, the door slammed shut on its own. The boy practiced opening the door repeatedly, until he felt he could do it at will. He never had to practice shutting the opening though. Its natural state seemed to be closed and quickly sealed whenever his attention wandered.

    When the mana got loose into his body it flowed all over. He could feel it traveling up and down his legs or across his chest. Eventually his bead would empty and he would stop and half to meditate to refill it before continuing. Once he felt confident he imagined himself grabbing a hold of the mana spilling from the pool and pulled it upwards, but the energy slipped through his existential fingertips. He tried pushing, shoving and forcing it to his will before realizing that it was not something to be fought or ordered about. The mana was a part of him, and it wanted to do what he was asking. It just needed to understand his directions. It did not need to be forced, it only needed a little guidance.

    With that thought in mind, Ashur imagined a pathway from the pool to his fingertips and watched as it flowed towards them. From there he opened another channel from his fingertips to his feet, and the mana flowed. The energy bled off when it touched his skin, and the pool eventually emptied. He then spent the next few hours refilling it. Ashur was worried when he noticed that the flavors of mana in the air did not match the mana in his body, but after drawing them into his pool they would change into his type of mana. Ashur spent several more days practicing before he felt confident enough to move on to the next step.

    Picturing the rune in his head was easy; he just imprinted it where the back of his forehead was. The difficulty was in holding that image and while drawing the rune in the air with his right hand. Add in speaking the rune¡¯s trigger word and it became quite difficult indeed. Ashur decided to master each piece of the spell, and only then work on combining them. Ashur started by spending days drawing the rune with his finger. It took him a while to finding a series of imaginary brush strokes that felt right, and after that it was a matter of repetitive practice until he had it down.

    After mastering the hand motions, the he combined the next step, picturing the rune in his mind. It helped if he imagined splitting his mind to pay attention the separate aspects. That process in itself was tricky and caused him to have a headache for a week, but eventually his mind got used to the extra strain. Finally he added the word, ¨¬l-F¨¤s?a-<u>-</u>, splitting his mind yet a third time to imagine what effect he wanted the spell to have. The headaches were not as bad that time, but his nose still bled on occasion. The whole learning process took him six weeks, but he finally was ready to cast his first spell.

    As befitting a cobbler¡¯s son, the first object Ashur grasped with magic was an old leather boot. Setting it upon the kitchen table he stood and prepared himself for the task, running through all of the motions in his mind before performing them in reality. He preferred to start by visualizing the rune in his mind, as it was the easiest part. Next mana was guided into the rune while he made crisp motions with his hand to draw it. Once it was completed he spoke the trigger word, ¨¬l-F¨¤s?a-<u>-</u>, and imagined the boot lifting off of the table.

    He could almost see the lines of force rippling from his mind to the boot as it floated gently towards him. Elated he watched it hover in the air for several seconds until it dropped. The sudden backlash of the spell forcibly ending caused Ashur fell to the ground pain. A thin trail of blood dripped from his nose and made soft sounds as it struck upon the wooden floor. His head throbbed, but once he could think straight again the excitement overwhelmed everything else.

    The child stumbled from the room, looking for his father while screaming, ¡°Da, I did it!¡±

    ** (that line is like a page break / **** that sometimes divides chapters)**

    Time seemed like an eternity and every day brought a new adventure. With all the fantastic things in the world, Ashur didn¡¯t understand why grownups were so serious all the time. How they could ignore the wonders happing all around them was a mystery to him. Like how the sky was so blue. and how tiny birds would drift along through it like fish in a giant floating ocean. Bugs of almost every sort were interesting, especially if they could be caught for close inspection. Even something as simple as the ground they walked held its own secrets, especially when it rained and turned the dirt all goopy. Even though the adults seemed to hate it, Ashur loved the rain. It seemed to refresh and revitalize him, and it also allowed him to be surrounded by his favorite substance, mud.

    You could do so many things with it. You could jump in it, skid through it, draw with it, and make it into pies. Even after he had been forbidden to roll around in it, it still seemed to hold unlimited possibilities. You could almost always find some, and even if it wasn¡¯t you could always just go make some with only minimal effort. The boy was sure that it was one of the most useful substances in all of creation. And for the past year, Ashur had spent every moment of his free time meditating, practicing, and honing his magic with that wondrously gritty mud.

    After casting the spell became second nature, the boy¡¯s fascination with mud became more apparent to anyone watching. Instead of using his hands to play with the dirty goop, he used his mind instead. Weeks of study in the kitchen turned into a year of play in the backyard. Although the book said it would only pull objects to him, the spell was actually quite versatile. He dug mud moats, built mud castles, and molded mud statues with it. None of his creations were ever very detailed, and it was difficult to tell a regular pile of mud from one of his castles, but lost in his imagination the boy defended the bastions from many evil hordes with his supreme mastery of magic.

    The boy quickly learned to cut off the flow of mana before his tiny pool went empty. As long as there was a smidgen left of mana inside him, he felt no ill effects from casting, but when if he ran out of mana and attempted to draw more from the empty pool, he would get a massive headache or even pass out. It was something he quickly learned to avoid at all costs.

    As Ashur played with his spell time passed. When the time had come for the man and boy to return to the Mage¡¯s Guild, both were far more comfortable with the upcoming meeting. His mastery of the spell was clear, and Ashur intended to prove himself to the guild. He was a mage, and the guild was where he belonged. His father seemed happy as well, if a bit tense. He had told his son repeatedly not to, ¡°muck things up,¡± but the normal derision in his voice was tinged with pride.

    Having an appointment this time, the wait in the foyer was much shorter. Soon another immaculately dressed, acne-ridden apprentice gathered them up and led them back to the room with three chairs.Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.

    Ashur had been expecting Poupon, and was surprised when a different wizened old man entered the room. His face was etched and creased with age, and a wispy white beard trailed down off of his face to end near his belt line. His robes were as a light brown with green filigree, and even though they were as magnificent as Poupon¡¯s, its elegance was far more subtle. The man was thin and tall, and basically matched every tale of fantastical Archmages that Ashur had ever heard. After sitting the man gave a warm smile and made his introduction.

    ¡°Greetings, I am Professor Rundil. I oversee the apprentice program here at the tower. I am glad to see you back here for your evaluation. It is always troubling if we have to track down a wayward mana user.¡± His grin removed most of the edge out of it, but the not so subtle threat lingered in the air.

    ¡°Thank ya, milord, I am Adrian, a cobbler, and this is my son Ashur,¡± answered the cobbler. ¡°The boy has studied very hard since we were last here. I expect ya¡¯ll be impressed with what he can do. Do ya mind me askin¡¯ what ya mean by evaluation?¡±

    ¡°Hmm, I am no lord, but I am one three Master Mages in the city, so the title master or even professor will do fine. It¡¯s usually merely a formality, but I¡¯ll be testing your son to see what he¡¯s suitable for. His mana marks were a little low when he was first seen, but even so we have need of every mana user in the kingdom. Someone must do little things, not everyone is born to be an Archmage after all.¡±

    ¡°Now I understand that he was too young to be imprinted when he first came in. It happens sometimes, and it¡¯s not a big deal. Besides, learning spells the old way if good for one¡¯s character. It¡¯s also good practice for when you¡¯re running out of soulspace. The more you know of a spell or skill beforehand, the less soulspace it takes to imprint it.

    ¡°We can even fix his small mana pool if needed. We can just feed him anima potions and have him focus on imprinting the mana attribute first. Worst case scenario, he becomes a mana battery to recharge enchanted items. That job is boring but very well paying, and he¡¯ll live a great life.¡±

    Professor Rundil pulled two metal bars from a pocket that should have been too small to hold them and sat them on the table. He continued, ¡°Well, let¡¯s see how you¡¯re doing. These bars weigh a half stone, and full stone respectively. Cast your spell and raise the smaller one please. No need to pull it to you, just lifting it is fine.¡±

    Going smoothly through the motions and while speaking, ¨¬l-F¨¤s?a-<u>-</u>, Ashur levitated the half stone weight and then set it gently back down.

    ¡°Very good. Nice pronunciation, solid control. Again now, lift the larger stone.¡±

    Again, Ashur cast Grasping Hand and raised the bar up and down.

    ¡°Good, good. Here try them together.¡± Shortly later, the stacked weights lifted and set back down, although Ashur voice was quivering with the effort.

    ¡°Fantastic. Better than most can manage. Not every can manage to put the extra mana into the spell to make it perform better, let alone tripling the base cost. Now, meditate and gather a full pool of mana. How long will it take you? I am busy, so I¡¯ll just return when you¡¯re full.¡±

    ¡°It shouldn¡¯t be but around 20 minutes, sir.¡± Ashur stated.

    ¡°Hmm,¡± the professor looked oddly at the boy. ¡°That¡¯s shorter than normal, I¡¯ll wait then.¡±

    The intense looks he was receiving from the master mage were distracting, but after a few minutes Ashur was able to find his breathing rhythm and sink into meditation. Ashur was all ways trying to improve, and he did so this time by attempting to breathe in and absorb the room¡¯s mana faster than ever. Just short of the twenty minute mark, Ashur stood up and nodded to the master.

    ¡°Now I want you to have a full mana pool for this, are you honestly telling me yours is full? Don¡¯t lie to me boy. You won¡¯t impress me that way.¡± Rundil¡¯s formerly cheerful voice was now sounding quite harsh.

    ¡°Um¡­ya¡­yes, professor¡± Ashur stuttered at the sudden challenge, ¡°it¡¯s full.¡±

    ¡°Very well then,¡± The professor produced a thin, rod shaped crystal the length of the child¡¯s forearm from his robes. ¡°This is a mana gauge. We will be able to tell how much mana you have by using it. Just hold it, and push your entire pool into it, like it¡¯s a rune. It¡¯s not difficult. No holding back now.¡±

    Ashur held the stick and did as asked. Only the very bottom portion glowed as he handed it back to a suddenly angry looking Rundil.

    ¡°I told you not to lie to me child.¡± Rundil¡¯s robed form seemed to grow in height as he stood and reprimanded the child. ¡°I needed you to have a full mana pool so that I could judge your potential, and yet you only put 17 mana into the reader.¡±

    Rundil looked at Adrian next, as if he was going to yell at him for raising such a deceitful son. Before he could start, Ashur managed to sputter out a denial, ¡°But¡­but¡­ I didn¡¯t lie.¡±

    Rundil continued to glare for a moment before snapping his fingers. The noise far louder than it should have been, like two boulders crashing together. An apprentice mage ran into the room at the apparent summons and bowed to professor.

    ¡°Fetch me the nearest diviner who can read a pool. I don¡¯t care who it is, hurry now.¡± The professor ordered and the apprentice took off at a sprint. He returned with slightly older blond haired youth in tow. The pair were both sweating and breathing heavily from running so quickly. Apparently when the headmaster told someone to hurry, he meant it.

    The newcomer, who was wearing a yellow robe embroidered with an orb, gathered his breath and bowed to Rundil, saying ¡°Master,¡± and awaited direction.

    ¡°Feel this child¡¯s pool and tell me if it¡¯s empty,¡± ordered the Professor.

    The young man reached out to Ashur and covered his forehead with his hand. He closed his eyes for a moment, and he mumbled, ¡°Inspect Person.¡±

    Ashur shivered at the sudden chill seeping into his skull, but did not pull away. The diviner then nodded to Rundil, saying ¡°It is, master.¡±

    ¡°Alright boy, you have twenty minutes. Fill it up.¡±

    Even though he was shaking under the pressure, Ashur still managed to regenerate his mana in the allotted time. After he stood up, but before he spoke, the old mage ordered the diviner to check again.

    A few moments later the yellow robed man said in a surprised voice, ¡°It is full master, but it¡¯s tiny.¡±

    ¡°Hmm.¡± The master seemed to be settling down, and handed the mana gauge to Ashur. ¡°You know what to do.¡±

    Ashur quickly filled up the rod with the entirety of his pool before handing it back.

    ¡°Still 17, thats¡­.¡± Rundil stopped and looked thoughtful. Silence loomed over the room like a dark cloud¡¯s shadow until the master spoke again. ¡°Looks like you¡¯re only made out to be a battery boy. Is your anima full? Let¡¯s get you imprinted with your spell and some base mana, and then we¡¯ll send you home until we figure out what to do with you.¡±

    Anima was the accumulation of life experience that built up in a person. It gathered in one¡¯s soul as long as there was empty soulspace. Adrian had taught the boy how to look inwards, to feel his soul at an early age. It was a simple thing that everyone could do instinctually. Since Ashur had never been imprinted, it was currently full from his childhood of learning and playing.

    ¡°Imprint Spell: Grasping Hand,¡± Rundil said, but nothing happened. The mage shook his head and said ¡°That doesn¡¯t make any sense, let¡¯s try again Imprint Attribute: Mana.

    ¡°It wouldn¡¯t take again. Ashur, to be honest I¡¯ve never seen anything like this, but there is only one thing it could be. Let me explain a couple of things because you seem like a good kid, but I am afraid it is all bad news.¡± A casual wave of his hand dismissed the two fidgeting apprentices and Rundil continued.

    ¡°I am going to need to give you a little background first. Do you know the difference between a wizard or a warlock and a mage?¡± Rundil asked.

    ¡°No sir,¡± the boy answered.

    ¡°They are all made, not born like a mage. Take for example wizards. Starting at about your age, they go to school and learn about mathematics, biology, physics, mana types and compatibilities, and everything else they can. After a decade of study, using regents and other aids they can cast cantrips, the most basic of spells. You see, they use Will to gather mana from the world around them, and then store it in some form, either in single use regents like preserved frogs eyes, or in a more permanent storage device, like properly prepared jewels and beast cores. All of that effort is needed to enable their Will covert external mana into a proper spell.

    ¡°Warlocks are similar, except they make pacts with nefarious sources, usually demons, for an outside source of mana. Shamans, witches, wizards and every other caster in existence utilize external mana of some sort.

    ¡°Only mages and the gifted are born with the natural ability to store mana within. It is called inherent mana. It can be used to cast any number of spells quite simply, far easier than any other caster, but the drawback is that we are limited by our mana pool.

    ¡°Unlike wizards, mages do not need to understand every little thing about the world, and this allows for spells to be learned with far less effort, or even imprinted with a minimal amount of soulspace being used.¡±

    ¡°This simplicity comes with what is usually a negligible disadvantage for mages, in that every single one of our spells has a fixed initial cost. If you do not have the minimum mana for the spell, it will backlash. Depending on the difficulty of the spell this can severely harm or even kill the caster.¡±

    ¡°I am sure doing your practice you have overdrawn yourself. What happened when you did?¡± Rundil asked.

    ¡°Sometimes I would pass out, other times I would get a headache or nosebleed.¡± Ashur answered.

    ¡°And that is from overdrawing a spell with an initial cost of only ten mana. In days past, masters and students made their best guess on when someone was ready to cast a more powerful spell, but there were still occasional, more serious accident. In order to prevent this, we developed a way to quantify mana pools using numbers, and created this gauge to test it.¡± Rundil said waving the indicated rod.

    ¡°Your spell, like almost every beginner spell in each affinity, costs around 10 mana to cast. The more you study, practice and understand a spell the less that cost becomes. We generally call these small cantrips ¡®minor¡¯ spells. The next level starts at around 50 mana per spell. To cast any of those ¡®lesser¡¯ spells for the first time, you <u>must</u> have the baseline mana cost. Trying to cast a lesser spell without the required mana probably wouldn¡¯t kill you, but it will be much worse than what you have already experienced. The mana requirements for spells only go upwards through spell tiers, and a miscast can quickly become lethal.

    ¡°Now your control over the cantrip Grasping Hand is beyond most Greater Mages, and even some Masters. Such ability can only be demonstrated after completely understanding a spell, something that most don¡¯t bother with since it is far easier to simply imprint them. To lift the weights you did earlier generally should have cost around 60-75 for an imprinted caster. To only use 17 to do so¡­. well calling it amazing doesn¡¯t even do it justice.

    ¡°But child your pool is as small as I have ever seen, and that¡¯s not even the biggest problem. The greatest issue is your soul. You¡¯ve got what we call a stunted soul. It¡¯s nothing that will affect you otherwise, but it prevents you from being imprinted with spells, skills or attributes. It¡¯s very rare, to the point where this is the first time I¡¯ve ever seen it in person.

    ¡°So even if we dumped a ton of resources into you, anima potions and the like, we couldn¡¯t even raise you to a lesser mage. Even training you to become a spellsword would be pointless. Cantrips are worthless in a battle, and since you can¡¯t imprint attributes, you couldn¡¯t stand up to the weakest of fighters.¡±

    ¡°Mana pools enlarge at different rates, and can grow from practice, but you¡¯re out of luck there as well. From the fact that your pool hasn¡¯t grown noticeably over the last year, I can tell that you have what is called a steady pool. Again, it¡¯s extremely rare but not completely unheard of. It won¡¯t grow from effort like a normal pool, only from time. They grow at a rate of around ten percent of your base pool a year, and usually stops sometime in your forties or fifties. The steady pool is generally seen as a great blessing, possessed by some of the most powerful Archmages in history. Imagine a pool that doubled in size every ten years!

    ¡°Your little pool would need to thirty years to be of any use to us though,¡± Rundil paused, and sighed again as he looked at the shaking boy. ¡°Ashur although you are talented, you have no potential. There is no place for you right now in the Mage¡¯s Guild.¡±

 Chapter 3

    Chapter 3 ¨C

    Professor Artrillious Rundil

    Professor Rundil had never seen a child so naturally gifted as the one before him, and it seeing that tremendous potential go to upset him more than if someone had spit in his morning tea. As the most tenured Master Mage and headmaster of apprentices such tasks such as entrance exams were normally beneath him. Even though it was rare to see a commoner like the boy come through, these meetings were usually quite routine.

    Still, when that moronic, pontificating Poupon mentioned Ashur to him a year ago, he had been intrigued. Even if ninety percent of the time his colleague spoke pure gibberish, he was still one of the top diviners in the kingdom. If Poupon went so far as to make a direct recommendation, it was best to listen. So when it was suggested Rundil meet with the boy, he immediately agreed. He needed to see for himself what Poupon¡¯s said would be, ¡°A spectacularly talented, genius mage but completely worthless to the guild.¡±

    Rundil cursed a few times under his breath. He truly hated it when Poupon was right.

    Few mages in the tower would have spent the extra few minutes explaining to the boy his exact circumstances, but Rundil had always been different then his colleagues. In fact, the master mage could barely stand to be around most full mages. Power tended to make assholes out of normal men, and it surely made magical assholes out of most mages. Simply being born to wealth or with the ability to wield magic did not make you better than everyone else. It just gave you more ability to affect the people around you. So unlike most members of his conceited guild he was content to wait out Ashur¡¯s stunned look in silence. A few minutes of patience were slight recompense for the crushing of a child¡¯s dream.

    Rundil had always been different, and now at the peak of his career, he could ignore most standard mage conventions. He was a gifted battle mage, but had given up fighting in wars and exploring dangerous ruins in order to teach. He had always enjoyed the process learning, and it seemed that the more he taught the basics, the better he understood them. Indeed going over them so many times had allowed him to understand magic at a different level than his fellows. His spell efficiency was going up and his anima was filling, even though rarely ventured out of the tower.

    There was something pure about instructing the young. Their innocence joys when first learning magic revitalized Rundil¡¯s own love for the art. The boy in front of him had obviously dedicated himself to learning the craft and represented everything Rundil wanted in a student. In hoping to ease the child¡¯s mind and give him hope, he chose spend a few minutes to explain things.

    The silence was palpable while Rundil waited. With his green eyes filling with tears, Ashur glanced back and forth from his father to the master, clearly heartbroken. The poor thing was mumbling, ¡°No, no, no¡± over and over. It seemed like Ashur was trying to say more, but nothing intelligible came from his mouth. It just kept opening and closing, like a fish gasping in the air.

    Rundil could tell that Adrain was as frustrated as the kid, but the cobbler still placed his hand on the child¡¯s shoulder in an awkward attempt at comfort. When the pathetic slumped figure in front of him looked up with tear-filled eyes, Rundil was waiting patiently to answer the inevitable questions.

    When Ashur able to form words, he asked, ¡°So I can¡¯t learn magic?¡±

    ¡°You have already learned magic child,¡± Rundil sighed, ¡°but this is likely the only spell you¡¯ll ever learn. I¡¯m going to tell you a few things about casting spells that only full mages are privy too, because even if it doesn¡¯t seem like it, there are still quite a few very good things about your current situation.

    ¡°Your natural aptness at spell casting and meditation are phenomenal, and your affinity to force magic is very strong. I¡¯ve never before seen a child understand a spell so well, even with in depth instruction. Any imprinted idiot with mana can cast a spell, but learning it the old way is tough, and doing it well is a forgotten art. You my boy, even with your tiny mana pool and stunted soul, are an artist.

    ¡°Even if you never cast another spell, having mana in and of itself is something to be grateful for. Like those who imprint lots of vitality, mana users tend to live longer than normal people. I haven¡¯t spent much of my anima on vitality, and look at me. I am 182 years old and could possibly live to see 250, which is not uncommon for stronger mages,¡± Rundil, who looked to be in his sixties, chuckled, ¡°All because I have such a large amount of mana flowing through me.

    ¡°Besides living longer, you will generally be healthier than the average person. Bruises and cuts will tend to heal a little faster. If you do catch a cold or other ailment, this increased natural healing will have you quickly on the road to recovery. The extent of both is determined by how much mana flows through you. Simply put, the more you cast, the healthier and longer lived you will be. So meditate and cast often.¡±

    ¡°Now, imprinting allows you to use a skill, or cast a spell, but it doesn¡¯t make understand it. In order to increase their efficacy, we still teach the future mages how each spell works. The understanding of a spell is a very personal affair, and different for each affinity, but there are some common truths that can still be applied and shared. As a teacher I would like to know how you trained and became so adept with Grasping Hand. It may be something that could be taught to others,¡± Rundil finished, and looked at the boy expectantly.

    Ashur, who looked to be overwhelmed, did not respond until nudged by his father.

    After a momentary delay, he responded. ¡°Umm. I mainly just used the spell to play with things. First it was moving stuff around the shop¡­you know boots, leather strips, stuff like that. Then I just used it when goofing around in the back yard.¡±Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.

    ¡°What the boy means to say, is that he uses magic to play in the mud,¡± Interjected Adrian.

    ¡°Umm. Yea, that too,¡± Ashur said quietly.

    ¡°Calling mud sounds quite disgusting. I¡¯m surprised your father would allow you to get to that filthy.¡± Rundil stated.

    ¡°Well, I built castles and soldiers. The soldiers would storm the castles and I would defend it with mud artillery.¡±

    ¡°Wait a minute! Are you saying that you can sculpt mud with the spell?¡± Rundil was astonished yet again.

    ¡°Yea,¡± Ashur agreed distractedly, until he was elbowed by his father again. He knuckled his downturned head before saying, ¡°I mean, Yes sir.¡±

    Like a braying donkey, Rundil started laughing uncontrollably. The cacophony continued long enough that Adrian and Ashur began to exchange awkward looking glances. Leaning forward and shaking his head as he gathered himself, Rundil spoke again.

    ¡°Grasping Hand is used to lift an item and bring it to you! That is its entire function and purpose! Using a spell beyond its limits is what we call Shaping. It is the process of manipulating the spell past its normal boundaries by using your Will. Will, is a complicated subject that I don¡¯t have time to go into at the moment, but trust me when I saw that it is an extraordinarily rare to be a natural Shaper. Hells, if it wasn¡¯t impossible for a mage to be a wizard we would be sending you to the Imperial Academy.¡±

    The Imperial Academy was located on the main continent of Ugera, but it was well known everywhere else. Only the best of the best, or the fantastically rich could go there. It was a place where you would receive the best training in the world for any skill set. If you graduated from there you were sure to become a legend.

    ¡°What else can you do with the spell? Can you push items away from you as well?¡± Rundil asked.

    Ashur nodded before casting the spell again. Grabbing the smaller weight he floated it around in a circle and then sat it back down gently onto the table.

    ¡°Damn if that isn¡¯t something.¡± Rundil said after another moment of shock. ¡°That looks just like lesser telekinesis, of the more mana intensive lesser class of spells and with the base cost of 100 mana. Normally it can only move small weights like grasping hand and is generally unpopular due to the excessive cost for the weight capacity, but when a shaper uses it, it becomes something else entirely.¡±

    Rundil looked thoughtful and said, ¡°Hmm, allow me to give you some more guidance.¡±

    ¡°Not many fully cast spells the old way like you are doing. You see, a simple spell, like Grasping Hand, is made up of five parts. You have to see and empower the rune, draw it, speak it, and then visualize the effect. But if the spell is truly understood, the caster can cut two of those actions out. Speaking the rune and drawing it are merely aids to help mages focus and channel the mana into the rune. Do you think that your finger wiggling in the air is actually drawing a rune of power? In fact for more powerful spells mages are taught specific hand gestures for each rune of the spell. The real effort is all in your mind, and it is focus that is the true key to perfect casting. The actual rune image itself is what¡¯s most important. If your understanding of the rune is perfect and your mind is strong enough, no physical actions are required!

    ¡°That entire process is what we imprint upon a person¡¯s soul. It is a far more efficient use of time to learn the basics of a spell and then get it imprinted. Just like using a skill, the mage just yells out the key word for the mnemonic trigger, then points and casts. In the time it would take to master a cantrip like Grasping Hand, we can teach and imprint a mage with dozens of spells to be cast just as quickly, if not as efficiently.¡±

    ¡°You could perfect your spell the old way boy, if you worked on it. Don¡¯t think it will easy to do boy. Silent casting is very difficult to learn, and few mages manage it with even minor spells. Even with imprints, I can only cast a handful of spells without speaking the keyword. It requires an absolute understanding of each particular spell.

    ¡°Now I need to also give you a couple of warnings. In the cantrip¡¯s booklet, you saw that a full spell is made up of several combined runes. Sometime new mages decide that they can try to invent their own spells, rather than purchasing new spells or imprints from the guild. I¡¯m not going to go into the history of the runic language, or why it represents what we understand of magic, but trying to change the design of a spell without decades of experience is almost always fatal. Only certain runes fit together, and there are specific synergies that must be maintained. Do not be tempted to cast just one of the runes, or combine them in a different order. It won¡¯t work, and the backlash will likely destroy your mind or possibly kill you. It¡¯s not worth it. Trust me on this.

    Rundil stood up and smoothed out his exquisite robes.

    ¡°Damn boy, you are the most interesting thing I have come across in a long while. I¡¯d like to see how you progress. How about you come by after you make some progress the old fashioned casting? If can do that I¡¯ll give you a couple of minor spell booklets for free. Speaking of spells I¡¯ll tell our shop to allow you access to more booklets if you ever come into any money. Go ahead and keep the Grasping Hand manual, as a consolation gift from the guild. And hey, think positive. In forty years, when your mana pool passes 200, come back by. We¡¯ll make a mana battery out of you and you¡¯ll be rich.¡±

    ¡°Well, that about sums it all up. I truly wish the best for you two, and remember that a lot of what we spoke about are guild secrets and all that, so keep them. Don¡¯t make the mistake of forgetting and ending up in an early grave.¡± Something about Rundil¡¯s tone made the threat real, all while he held a smile on his face that reached his eyes. With a small wave and a bounce in his step, the old mage left the room.

    ******

    Ashur

    ¡°Blistering ballsack!¡± Adrian cursed, ¡°Guess that means we¡¯re not going be living the good life ¡®eh boy? Oh yea, and that sucks about the whole stunted soul thing. Poor schmuck, not only do you not get in, but you can¡¯t imprint. I¡¯d have never have gotten with your momma if it wasn¡¯t for all those points I put into charisma, or kept her without those points in dexterity.¡±

    Despite how disgusting that comment was, Ashur couldn¡¯t even summon the energy to respond to his father as he waggled his eyebrows lewdly. His dreams had been crushed as thoroughly as wheat under the millstone. Not only were his hopes of being a mage crushed, but without the ability to imprint he wouldn¡¯t be able to raise his base attributes. That was a far bigger issue than not being able to cast spells.

    Adrian in a rare moment of empathy actually noticed his son¡¯s plight, and managed to shut up while the boy recovered. He even made another half-assed attempt at consoling his son, but the boy didn¡¯t hear any of it. Ashur was too focused on staying upright underneath the invisible burden of failure. The only thing he could do was put one foot slowly in front of the other, and try to make it home.

    Ashur¡¯s thoughts were not only of his own current inadequacies but also of his lost future. Working on bettering his spell casting had been a truly rewarding experience. Every time he made small improvement, like being able to make a more detailed mud-man, or building a slightly taller mud tower, he had gained an indescribable feeling of accomplishment. It gave his life meaning, a reason to get up in the morning that shoemaking would. He had been looking forward to raising his skills and attributes the same way, like little small steps of improvement, but now it would never happen.

    He was slotted for a life of mediocrity, a cursed soul without the ability to level up.

 Chapter 4

    Chapter 4 - Ashur

    The next month was hard on the small family of two.  It was like someone had taken all of Ashur¡¯s hope and stolen it away. He lost interest in everything. What little free time he had was spent moping around the shop or staring at the walls. It was odd to see a seven year old that wasn¡¯t getting into everything. The neighbors, after having watched the boy play in the mud non-stop for years, had already begun to think that the boy mentally incompetent, but now, seeing him staring at the walls, they were sure of it.

    The problem was the exact opposite, in that Ashur was very smart for his age and was already thinking about his future, or rather the lack thereof. Having previously dreamt of being an archmage, a premier existence in the land, he realized that he would never even master a craft. In order to go past the rank of journeyman in any profession you needed to imprint specific trade related skills. It was one of the reasons his father had stopped moving upwards. It wasn¡¯t because he lacked the intelligence or physical ability. It was because Adrian had never leveled beyond four and could not learn the needed skills like Imbue Leather.

    His cursed soul meant that Ashur wouldn¡¯t even be able to use simpler journeyman skills, like Mend Leather, which was already a huge disadvantage. Not everyone could afford or even wanted new boots if their ones were simply broken, and a large portion of Adrian¡¯s business was using the skill to fix simple, mostly cosmetic problems with his customer¡¯s shoes.

    Ashur could tell that his father was mad at him for failing. It was quite apparent from Adrian¡¯s frequent scathing comments. The man never said anything about it directly, but it was clear he was blaming the boy for his lost fortune. The constant underlying anger hung around the house like a bad smell, stinking up the shop and doing nothing to lift the boy out of depression.

    Adrian put Ashur back to work making shoes immediately. In his father¡¯s words, ¡°I need to get some use out of ya some-how,boy.¡± Although he had some basic knowledge of the workplace, Ashur had been purely focused on his spell and had forgotten how to complete most of the old tasks. So Ashur was tasked with cleaning the shop and doing menial chores.

    Eventually enough time passed that both the boy and Adrian came to terms with what happened. Adrian had long since settled back into his normal routine, cutting and riveting leather day after day, but now other than the occasional boorish comment, the man had stopped bringing up their lost future of ease. Ashur took far longer to recover, but the days full of hard work were very efficient at keeping him too busy to think about his problems, and eventually the boy began to return to normal.

    It started with renewed interest in his father¡¯s work, and pride in his own. Ashur was in charge of keeping the small residence and shop clean, so that his father could focus making shoes, and making money. While the mess had been kept to a minimum during his depression, the store was never truly clean. Not like before, when Ashur had ambitions of being a mage. He did everything his father asked of him and then some more. The old boards of the shop practically sparkled, and the customers noticed.

    Tending to the shop day after day was mind-numbing, and after playing with magic constantly, the Ashur was not content. He started to want more again, and he recognized that he needed to focus himself on another task. He needed a goal. So for the first time, Ashur set his mind on truly becoming a cobbler. But being a just a regular shoemaker like his father wouldn¡¯t be enough. There had to be something he could do. Ashur decided that if he was going to have to deal with stinking feet for a lifetime, he wanted to be the best at it. Maybe if he worked hard enough the inability to imprint wouldn¡¯t matter. Maybe then he wouldn¡¯t have to smell just any old foot. Maybe if he tried enough it could be a higher quality foot, a fancy foot, and the funk would that of kings.

    He just needed to find out a way to do it. The boy couldn¡¯t think of a way around the issue at that moment, so he focused on mastering every aspect of the profession that his father could teach him. The shop became a classroom as his father expanded upon his duties, and for the first time since he was born, Ashur actually tried to learn his father¡¯s trade.

    Making a simple shoe is not a complicated process, but it there are several steps to it that needed to be done well. Ashur was taught how to mark the outline of a man¡¯s foot onto thicker pig leather using thin charcoal sticks, and then how to correctly cut it with heavy shears. It was important to get the most material out of every skin, so he thought ahead and measured everything twice to avoid making mistakes. Using the first cut as a pattern, a cowhide would be made to match. His hands were too tiny and weak to work his father¡¯s heavy leather punch one handed, and without one hand free, it was impossible to keep the leather in place. He worked around the issue by using clamps and he quickly became proficient enough to keep the holes evenly spaced.The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    The more he worked at it, the better he got. The shoes he crafted were soon not only functional, but also appealing to the eye. Ashur also conquered the art of stripping out leather laces and straps, mastering the long sweeping motion required to keep them straight and smooth. He learned how to apply hobnails to footwear or sandals, for those working in the fields or woods, and how to apply special resins to smooth leather soles, so that they were less slippery on wet days.

    Some apprentices would choose to imprint skills for these simple tasks, but for the boy it was not an option. Not that it was much of an accomplishment, because only the most untalented students would waste soulspace on a basic skill like Stripping Leather. For those who wanted to master a craft it was much more important to improve a related statistic like Dexterity or even Constitution. Any stat that let helped with your fine motor skills, or allowed you to work longer was far more beneficial in the long run.

    The whole process was not terribly complicated or difficult, but it took a lot of effort and practice to craft quality footwear without imprinted assistance. The attention to detail needed to make sure that each hole was symmetrical to another, and everything properly cut and formed took practice.  Still the process was tedious, and repetitive. It was extremely repetitive, and Ashur lost interest with each new thing he learned almost as soon as he had mastered it. Drilling holes over and over in leather just did not fulfill his mind¡¯s craving for stimulation. Maybe it would have if he had never learned the joys of casting spells, but now he wanted something more.

    The boredom of doing the same thing over and over returned Ashur¡¯s mind to magic. No matter how many times he cast the spell, he would always notice that it was slowly getting easier. Unlike learning how to cut a leather strap, which could only be cut so straight and even, perfecting a spell seemed to have no upper limit. It also drastically reduced the monotony. Simply grabbing tools and pulling scraps from across the room added a spark of fun into the daily routine.

    At first he just let his mana refill naturally, but then he started meditating again, mostly on breaks. After finishing a task he would pause at his work station for five minutes or so, not long enough to upset Adrian, but long enough to gain the energy needed for the next spell. Even the simple act of meditation was enjoyable. The peace of emptiness relieved his mounting frustrations and made him happier each day. The magic was addictive. The more he cast, the more he wanted to. The tiny slow gains returned, and he improved in both channeling the spell and regenerating mana. Tiny steps forward, but progress none the less, and it gave him hope for his future.

    By the time he was ten years old the shoes Ashur made were already nearly indistinguishable from his father¡¯s. Since his father was a bottom of the line cobbler it was not much to brag about, but for a child without any imprints it was simply astounding. Although his father never gave him praise in private, he had overheard the man bragging about it to his friends several times.

    ¡°The boy¡¯s hand¡¯s are as deft as a level 5,¡± His father claimed. Since the average for a civilian adult on the isle was 4, it was quite a bold statement, but it was nearly true. The reason was because the boy had learned a new aspect of his spell. Just prior to completing the incation, right when he was supposed to picture the object he wanted to grasp and what he wanted it to do, Ashur learned to pause the spell. It left him with a sense of his surroundings that spread out about five feet from his body. It slowly ate away his mana, and used up most of his brainpower while doing it, but the sense made him completely aware of everything within its reach.

    Ashur noticed that when he could feel everything with the sense, including his own hands and body,  it was a lot easier to complete tasks that required a lot of eye-hand coordination. Having seen jugglers at festivals in the past, Ashur tried it out himself in his room. It was simple to keep even ten items floating in the air when you knew exactly where each one would come down, and where your hand needed to be to catch them. That coordination made it extremely easy to cut simple leather, especially as his hands got larger and stronger.

    Over the last few months he had reached a plateau in the shop. He was at the point where there was nothing left to be learned from his father, and he could not go any farther under a different cobbler due to his hardened soul. If he had access to better materials, he could probably learn to make fancier shoes to adorn higher quality feet, but no high-end shoemaker would take an apprentice with such limited potential. Older and wiser, little Ashur realized that his dream of shoeing fancy feet would be harder than he thought.

    Still, he did not want to settle into a life like his father¡¯s, that of mediocrity and tedium. There had to be something he could succeed at, he just needed to find it. It took months of begging, pleading, bargaining, and more than a few childish tantrums, but Adrian finally gave in to Ashur¡¯s next idea. The boy was allowed to learn other crafts.

 Chapter 5

    Chapter 5

    Contrarily, Ashur¡¯s hard work and success became the biggest sticking points for his father. The boy shoes were finally selling steadily, and the shop¡¯s increased revenue was now double what it used to be. Adrian had started to spend the extra money in the pub nearly every night, and was loath to give up his new hobby. So he made the stipulation that no matter what else the boy was doing, unless he took a formal apprenticeship elsewhere he would continue to work in the shop during his free hours, and if the revenues dropped to much, Ashur would have to come back to the shop full time.

    Adria had made quite a few connections in the local trading community from his work, and  over the past year his peers had come to know the quality of his boy¡¯s work as well, from both personal experience and because the man bragged about it constantly. At first Ashur had become embarrassed by the spectacle. It wasn¡¯t until he realized that his father wasn¡¯t as much singing his praises, but was boasting about himself as a teacher, that the boy stopped being bothered by it.

    Adrian began arranging for Ashur to learn under various masters for lengths of time that varied from one craft to the next. Or rather, the duration of study depended upon Ashur¡¯s interest and ability to learn the subject. The situation individually wasn¡¯t too uncommon in the port town. Talented youths commonly learned from many masters on a temporary basis. As long as they were well behaved and productive, the masters didn¡¯t mind.  It was like having an extra free worker, and it gave the students a chance to find the best career they could.

    The deal with each teacher was simple. In exchange for instruction, Ashur would work and receive no pay. He would start each new craft as general laborer, spending his time cleaning and maintaining the various equipments at that particular job. As soon as Ashur had learned enough about trade to not be a hindrance, he would then start receiving instruction like a normal apprentice.

    Ashur was a fast learner though, and soon plateau¡¯d out time after time. The longest Ashur spent at any particular job was spent six months with a generous scribe. His ability to read and write expanded far past what his father could teach him. Adrian had taught him with charcoal and old hides, but the scribe taught him how to write properly with ink and parchment. Writing clear, even letters was the mark of a real scribe, and Ashur¡¯s tiny hands were already quite dexterous from years of cobbling. In almost no time he had mastered the common script of the land, and even learned the calligraphy required for higher priced commissions.

    The reason why he stuck with the job so long was that Ashur loved the small library the scribe kept, and he was allowed to read the books during his free time. No one else in the area had anything remotely like it. Most books were hideously expensive not only for the work it took to create them, but because of the effort it took to gather the information inside them. The scribe had slowly built up his collection by making an extra copy of the books his customers brought in for duplicate until it was quite impressive. Through them Ashur briefly explore the larger world through literature. He read tales of adventurous knights, learned about ancient kingdoms, and even read bestiaries of dangerous creatures like goblins and ogres.

    Ashur found out that every sentient creature could learn to use to manipulate mana, but only those born as mages could do it inherently. The same was true with auras and warborn. There were many other types of casters, like shamans, witches and necromancers. The list was quite long, but other than the mage, they all utilized mana from a source outside themselves. Wizards were the most powerful of them all and were known for their strong Wills, but they were also the rarest. It had only taken the child Ashur a few months to learn how to cast a spell, and that was without a proper teacher. If he were to do it like a wizard, he would have had to learn nearly everything about the world, studying advanced subjects like mathematics and physics. After that he would then need to memorize the many varieties of mana and what each type could be used for. Finally he would need to find a substance capable of storing the right mana type, like a beast core, unlike the mage who could do so naturally. Only after the mana was stored, and they had enough knowledge of the world to form their Will, could they finally utilize proper spells.

    The entire process was something a mage could do in an instant, with a little training and the proper imprints.

    He asked the scribe about for a book about how imprinting works, but he didn¡¯t have one. The man described it to him as best as he could, saying, ¡°It is a gift from the gods boy, paid for with your anima.¡± The answer, in turn, lead to a discussion about anima itself.

    ¡°The best we can understand it, anima is a physical incarnation of a living being¡¯s life force. Everything alive possesses it, from the smallest blade of grass, to the largest dragon. Plants store it differently from other living creatures. It could be gathered all in one spot, or spread all around, but in animals and sentient creatures most of it is stored in a container that we call the soul.

    Even the dumbest sentient creature could be taught to feel their own soul and anima with the simplest of explanations. Ashur himself had noticed it around the age of four. One day he had felt a little ball of energy inside him, causing him to ask his father what was living inside his chest. His father had simply called it his soul, but the scribe gave him a far better explanation of it. Something Ashur had been wanting since he found out that his soul different.

    ¡°Someone gifted by the gods can can use your anima reserves to imprint their knowledge of a skill, attribute, or spell onto your soul permanently.¡±If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

    ¡°So how come people don¡¯t just learn every skill out there?¡±

    ¡°Because it¡¯s impossible, boy.  Think of your soulspace like an eggshell. Your anima is the egg and yolk, and your skills and attributes are the shell. Everytime something is imprinted, your shell grows thicker. Eventually it¡¯ll reach the next ¡®level¡¯ of thickness and the anima cost goes up, until at some point the inside of the shell can¡¯t hold enough anima to form another layer on the outside.

    ¡°You have to expand your soul, so that it can hold more. That can only be done by doing something that grows your soul. Things like learning a craft, experiencing the trials and tribulations of combat, or even seeing a wonderful sunset can expand your soul.¡± The scribe answered.

    ¡°So how do you get more anima?¡± Ashur asked.

    ¡°The only way to gain anima is by killing or consuming. The food you eat each day comes from pants and animals right? Each of them has a little bit of anima and by eating it, you absorb a portion of it. Normal ordinary food contains trivial amounts, others contain far more. For example, magical plants, those absorb and contain mana, would give you more than if you ate something normal, like a potato.¡±

    ¡°Professions like butchers and farmers are always accumulating anima from the animals and plants they harvest. Just little bits mind you, because there isn¡¯t much to the life of a pig or a stalk of wheat, but it¡¯s there.

    ¡°And for each level of your ¡®shell¡¯ you can imprint five attribute points right?¡± Ashur asked.

    ¡°That¡¯s how it¡¯s generally measured, but there is generally enough soulspace for one skill for every two levels as well. But it¡¯s variable. Some skills take up more room than others, and some are more useful than others. I think casters are different as well, I¡¯m not really sure how many spells they get per level. You can also trade out the room used for attributes for extra skills if you choose.

    Ashur asked the scribe if he had ever heard about a stunted soul, but he had not, and Ashur did not enlighten him about his situation. But the more he learned, the more he wanted to. Every history, adventure and story inside the scribe¡¯s tomes caused Ashur¡¯s need for more to intensify. He wanted to experience those adventures himself, but without the ability to grow stronger through imprinting, he would be far to weak.

    Eventually he finished every book in the scribe¡¯s small library, and mastered the trade as much as he could with his stunted soul. With nothing new to read or learn he tired of scribing, and felt the need to move on.

    Ashur spent the next several years trying his hand at nearly every trade. He learned the basics of metal work under a nearby smith. He spent a long two months at the tanneries, learning the smelly but necessary ways to process animal hides. He worked at a lumber mill, and briefly as a farm hand doing seasonal harvest work. He helped carpenters build houses and shape furniture, and learned how masons built foundations to withstand the weight of a building. He mixed and baked bricks, butchered animals in the slaughterhouses, and even spent a month learning how to cook in a tavern. He learned the basics of every craft quickly, but never truly mastered any of them. Still all of the jobs never sparked his imagination like magic had, and he could never completely settle for any of them.

    Ashur could tell that his father was growing increasingly frustrated with his bouncing around. The only thing that kept Adrian from exploding whenever the boy requested the next move was the fact that every master had sung his boy¡¯s praises. That combined with boy¡¯s good nature and exemplary work ethic it made for good advertising, and more customers were coming to the cobbler¡¯s shop than ever before. With Ashur still helping in the evenings, Adrian constantly grumbled but stayed content wnough.

    Throughout it all Adrian had maintained a stipulation on his son.

    Almost all professions had a guild. It caused a lot of monopolies and excessive politicking in nearly every trade and industry, but everyone knew it was a necessary evil, because they provided much needed security against the casual abuse of nobles and other powerful individuals. Most guilds had an upper age limit on accepting apprentices, usually between twelve to fourteen years of age. These same guilds were one of the primary reasons Adrian had asked his son to keep his mana and stunted soul a secret.

    ¡°That lil¡¯ bitty spell ain¡¯t worth the bad blood you¡¯ll get from other¡¯s knowin¡¯,¡± Adrian told him. ¡°Most normal folks hate them mightier than thou mages. Plus they might treat ya different if they knowed about your soul. Folks don¡¯t like them that are different. Just let assume you¡¯re like everyone else.¡±

    Over the years Ashur saw the reasoning behind it firsthand. Commoners talked while they worked, and they spoke of mages with the same contempt as they did nobles. Both groups were known for their casual disregard of local laws and random acts of cruelty. The crown and the guild kept them in line somewhat, but more than one poor family had been destroyed for upsetting one of those elite citizens. Their indiscretions were infrequent enough that the masses did not rise up against them, but enough that they were both universally scorned by the common man. Occasionally someone would speak of an honorable noble, or a kindly mage like Rundil would appear, but they were so few and far between they were as likely to be seen as the mythical unicorn.

    If levels ever came up, Ashur would tell people that he had not imprinted yet. It could stunt your soul growth if you had too much imprinting done before puberty was finished, so wasn¡¯t uncommon for a boy his age not to have leveled up. No one would know any better unless he told them otherwise. The only way to tell a person¡¯s level for sure was to have them examined by an imprinter, but that was usually only done when they ranked up in a profession. Since it was considered rude to ask someone¡¯s level, Ashur only occasionally had it come up in with his masters in private.

    A few weeks after his twelfth birthday, Ashur made a breakthrough with Grasping Hand. After years of practice he had learned how to cast the spell without using the hand motion. The trick was to perfect the pronunciation of ¨¬l-F¨¤s?a-<u>-,</u> as well as projecting a stronger mental image of the rune itself. There was a certain cadence needed when saying the word, and proper points of inflection that had improved its use. It started out quiet, ¨¬l was a feeble thing that wanted to hide behind the more powerful F¨¤s. After nearly barking out the middle syllable, the final ?a needed to be said quickly, yet smoothly, like a master archer loosing an arrow.

    To maintain the proper inflection, the keyword needed to be said a little louder than a word in normal conversation, but less than a shout. Removing the hand motions made casting inconspicuously far easier, but because the audible component could not vary, it was still difficult to hide. Still, the breakthrough made it far more functional for everyday use, and it also renewed his motivation to master the spell.

    It only took him a little over six years, but finally he could cast the spell like it was imprinted.

 Chapter 6

    Chapter 6

    A few weeks passed while Ashur toiled in the shop and Adrian arranged compensation for his new master. It was at breakfast one morning that Adrian broke the good news, ¡°It¡¯s been settle boy, Brakoli will teach ya how to fight.  Only with fists though. It won¡¯t do ya no good to be playin¡¯ with wooden swords and end up thinkin¡¯ yourself a warrior. You¡¯re gonna have¡¯ta muck the stable stalls and work around tavern for a few months in exchange for Thaddious asking Brakoli to take ya on. The man said he would need to meet with ya first before officially taking you on. He¡¯ll be by tomorrow after lunch to meet ya.¡±

    ¡°Now clean them dishes and get to the inn, hurry up now. Be careful with Brakoli boy, for some reason he only agreed to this when he found out you hadn¡¯t imprinted yet. It be an odd thing to care about for a fighting master.¡±

    Ashur grinned and got up, hearing nothing but that he was going to learn how to fight. After cleaning up, he ran the entire five blocks to the inn breathlessly. He was recognized by most of the neighborhood as sprinted past, and some laughed at his antics. There were a few grumbles as well, but the majority looked on with smiles, like they recognized that Ashur was at the beginning of yet another new adventure.

    Ashur spent the morning shoveling horse manure with Grant, one of innkeep¡¯s bastards. It was filthy, grueling work, but he was used to manual labor by now. Even after a long morning, Ashur was still overloaded with nervous energy when it finally came time to meet his instructor.

    Ashur was to meet Brakoli for the first time in his own back yard. It was not so much a yard, as it was a small dirt lot directly behind the shop. The area was enclosed in by wooden privacy fencing, with half of the space taken up by a rickety, three sided shed. The remaining open ground was about five paces squared. It had been a large enough area for him to play in when he was younger, but it seemed like too small a space to be fighting in, thought Ashur.

    Ashur had initially intended to wait patiently upon his new master but was too nervous to spend the time completely idle. So when Brakoli arrived, it was to an unusual sight. The boy Ashur sat behind a thoroughly impressive castle, built entirely out of mud. It was surrounded by a respectable sized moat, which was spanned by a drawbridge attached to a nearby gatehouse. Crenulations lined the battlements, and archers manned the round, corner towers. Outside the walls a platoon of soldiers stood at the ready, and a line of cavalry stood ready to charge. Behind their lines, robed wizards held there staves aloft, as if they were preparing a massive spell meant to breach the formidable walls.

    It did not look like a child¡¯s plaything, it looked like a work of art.

    Intent on the final preparations for the upcoming mud war, Ashur missed Brakoli¡¯s arrival, and jumped to his feet in surprise when he heard the man grunt loudly. He looked up at his new master with a sense of apprehension that he had never felt before. Even at a glance the boy could tell that this was no peaceful man and would be completely unlike his previous masters. Everything about Brakoli spoke of barely restrained violence, and even a child as innocent as Ashur could recognize the threat his mere presence represented.

    Brakoli was a large man, standing a hand taller than Adrian¡¯s father and three times his width. His black, sleeveless shirt exposed massive, tattooed biceps to the crisp springtime air. The man¡¯s forearms were nearly just as wide and upon closer inspection, Ashur observed that every piece of exposed skin was covered in old scars. Some were old, thin and faded, like the cobwebs in an attic corner. Others were large, angry and red. Wounds like that were not caused in by anything other than violence. They told those who could notice that Brakoli was a man who would not quit.

    The most gruesome scar ran down the side of Brakoli¡¯s neck, traveling from his left ear, over a collarbone, and continuing out of sign underneath the dark shirt. There was nothing subtle about that old wound. It said that Brakoli was a survivor, and the look in his eyes said that he was a killer.

    ¡°What are you doing kid?¡± The man asked after pausing to consider the scene before him. His words were gritty, rollingout of his mouth and over a short beard, like his mouth was full of gravel.

    ¡°Umm, playing in the mud?¡± Ashur answered.

    ¡°A little more than,¡± Brakoli responded. ¡°How did you do the detail work on the castle, or the tiny little men? How are you sculpting these little men without tools?

    Ashur froze up. He had never really considered how his mud-time would look to an outsider, and he was left without a ready explanation. Unable to tell Brakoli abuot his mana, he lied, ¡°I put them away after I finished with the castle. I am just playing around now.¡±

    ¡°If you don¡¯t want to explain, just say so,¡± The man said. ¡°You should never lie to people you respect, and if you cannot respect me, then how can I teach you?¡±

    After considering his words, Ashur decided they made sense and answered, ¡°Yes sir, it won¡¯t happen again.¡±

    ¡°Thaddious said that you were twelve, but from your size, I would have pegged you as nine or ten. Obviously there is something more to you then meets the eye,¡± Brakoli waived a hand to acknowledge the mud army. ¡°The question is, are you worth my time?¡±

    Ashur brushed off his clothes and stood up straight. Having interviewed with several masters, he put on what he thought of as his business face. He had learned it from measuring a working men for boots, and perfected it while learning more than a dozen trades. Even still, it seemed as if Brakoli¡¯s found his look of confidence wanting.

    ¡°I have studied other crafts under various masters, and all have been satisfied with my efforts. They have even said that I am a quick study, a natural talent if you would. Please allow me to learn from you as well, I will not disappoint you.¡±

    ¡°Not bad kid. Did you practice that speech a bit?¡± Brakoli grinned, ¡°Well, I¡¯ll take hard work over talent any day of the week. Today is a test. You have until the end of this session to impress me. If you¡¯ve got what it takes, then maybe I will allow you to be my student.

    ¡°Some ground rules first, while I am teaching, you will do as I tell you, when I tell you. I may allow questions about things later, or I may not. Unlike other crafts you have studied, what I am teaching you will hurt. If you compline, whine, or shirk from the pain, I will leave. Do you understand?

    Ashur nodded.

    ¡°Answer me when I ask you a question boy,¡± Brakoli snapped.

    ¡°Yes, sir.¡± Ashur replied quickly.

    ¡°What level are you, and do you have any skills?¡±

    ¡°I have not imprinted yet.¡±

    ¡°Why not? Although it¡¯s not recommended to go past level 1 until puberty¡¯s finished, which in your case might be a while, those first five stat points help a lot with training. Is your dad too cheap to pay the trainers?¡±

    ¡°Something like that sir,¡± Ashur answered.

    ¡°Hmm. Not a lie, but intentionally vague. Better. Well, luckily for you, I only work with blank slates. The fact that you haven¡¯t imprinted is the reason I¡¯m willing to train you. Well, that and I owe Thaddius a favor and this will clear that debt. Well, let¡¯s get to it then.Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.

    ¡°Let¡¯s start with the basics. Maintaining your balance is essential to any type of fighting, whether with bare knuckles or swords.  Come here, stand up straight, and face me.¡±

    Ashur did as he was told. As soon as he stopped moving, Brakoli thumped him hard on the chest with the back of one huge hand. The surprised boy flew backwards a whole pace from the force of the blow. The wind was forced from his lungs when his flailing body landed hard upon his mud castle, demolishing it and laying waste to the surrounding army. Shocked and confused, Ashur could only lay in the ruins gasping for breath

    ¡°First lesson, standing up straight is for idiots. It¡¯s tough to maintain your balance if you get hit, and it makes you a larger target. Instead you want to be in what I like to call a ready stance. Stand like this. Feet wide, knees bent, body off center to your opponent. Keep your hands up! Guard your face. Every time they drop I¡¯m going to slap you. Good, now put your weak hand forward a little bit.¡±

    As soon as Ashur had set himself as instructed, Brakoli thumped him again. He could see the blow coming, and his hands were up, but the hand was moving too fast for him to do anything about it. The blow landed with just as much force as before, but instead of flying backwards, the way he was positioned allowed his legs to absorb most of the impact. He gained a new bruise on his chest, and had to hop backwards a step, but he stayed on his feet.

    ¡°Good. Now a moving target it tougher to hit, so always be moving. Keep on the balls of your feet and maintain your center of balance as you step. It doesn¡¯t have to be much, slowly circling or moving forward or backwards is plenty. Careful now, don¡¯t let your feet cross! A still target is an easy target, so don¡¯t just stand there and let me hit you.¡±

    Ashur spent the next 45 minutes learning how to take a blow. He gained a basic understanding of how to reduce the damage of a punch by moving with it, blocking it, or stepping in close to avoid the power of the swing. After the initial shock was over, it seemed like fighting was a craft like any other. You react in certain ways when you see certain things. So far, the rules were simple, and stated that he needed to dodge this punch, counter that swing, or avoid this jab.

    Brakoli taught in a way that Ashur had never experienced. It was like teaching a child how to swim by throwing him into the river. Every mistake he made in posture was punished by a blow designed to knock him off his feet. He was slapped every time his hands dropped. By the time the session seemed to be winding down, Ashur was covered in bruises. Even though they had only been at it less than an hour, the boy had learned a lot.

    ¡°Kid we¡¯re about out of time today. You¡¯re slow, weak and pathetically small, half the size of most girls your age. Size matters in a fight kid. Don¡¯t let anyone tell you any different, otherwise prizefighters wouldn¡¯t have weight classes. You¡¯re still young, and have some growing left to do, but it looks like you¡¯re going to be a tiny bastard your whole life. For you to have any chance fighting a grown man we¡¯ll have to toughen you up tremendously. I¡¯m not just talking about your physical body. I¡¯m talking about your mind and spirit as well,¡± Brakoli paused.

    ¡°That being said, you weren¡¯t lying earlier when you said that you¡¯re a quick learner. You have a bit of potential.¡±

    ¡°Now, all that stuff we just practiced is important, but winning a fight is more than just knowing how maintain your balance or take a punch. You can pretty much teach that to anyone. To raise yourself above the rabble you need to have an edge. You need something that makes you special.

    ¡°Compared to other experts in the field, I am just mediocre when it comes to pure technique, and as I¡¯m sure you¡¯ve already noticed, they are better teachers out there as well. Still, when I am walking down the street, there is a reason why everyone steps out of my way. It is because I have learned a universal constant, and incorporated it into my fighting style. I embraced something that most people fear. I have learned the truth about pain.¡±

    Brakoli stared into Ashur¡¯s eyes.

    ¡°Pain is the original teacher, and by enduring pain you will learn its truth. If you can understand it, you will become feared no matter your size or ability. But the truth of pain is not something that can be taught with words, it is learned by doing, by practicing, and by enduring. You need an edge kid, and this is the only one I am qualified to teach.

    ¡°It¡¯s the simplest of instructions, but there is no way other way to show you the truth. The question is. Will you be able to bear it?

    ¡°This is the most important thing I will teach you. You cannot let pain control you. You must always get back up and fight against the pain. You heart and mind must be stronger than your body!¡± Caught up in the moment Brakoli¡¯s voice had slowly raised during his speech and he was now yelling.

    ¡°This is the test I am giving you boy. If you get up you pass, if you stay down you fail. My way of teaching is not for everyone, so if you don¡¯t want to do this, just tell me to stop. Or don¡¯t get back up. Feel free to try and dodge or block my blows if you can, after all, it¡¯s part of the training.

    ¡°Are you ready?¡±

    The idea that a fighter needed to have an edge resonated with Ashur, and the first thing that sprung into his mind was that magic was his edge. The concept of having an edge beaten into him didn¡¯t make any sense at all, but the boy couldn¡¯t quit now. If he did, he would be stuck working for his father.  It would be over year until Ashur turned fourteen, and being stuck in his father¡¯s shop for that long was completely unacceptable.

    Besides, Ashur thought, surely the man was just trying to frighten him off with the tough words. So what if he had been slapped a few times during the training earlier, that didn¡¯t mean that Brakoli would actually hurt him. There was no way Thaddious or his father would ever allow that to happen, he was just a kid. This was probably just a test of his will. This Brakoli was obviously bluffing.

    Thinking that he had it all figured out, Ashur hid his knowing grin and nodded back at the man, completely sure that he has just passed the final exam. Then Ashur¡¯s world shattered.

    Even a rented mule would not have been beaten like Braoli did the boy. The swings were never at full speed or strength, but the simple difference in muscle, mass and skill combined to make each one irresistible. He wasn¡¯t sure how long it took, but the next minutes turned out to be the longest of his young life.

    Dodging or blocking did nothing to stop the beating. Sometimes he would stand up and immediately be leveled by another punch, other times he would stand there, cringing and cowering as Brakoli threw punches that intentionally missed him by a hair¡¯s breadth. It seemed to go on forever, and Ashur didn¡¯t even know why he kept getting back up.

    A simple looking backhand knocked the Ashur to the ground, and the boy struggled to his feet once more. He was hurting to bad now to even have the ability to flinch, let alone to bring his hands up in defense. Wobbling on his feet, his punch drunk mind decided that it was all too much, he couldn¡¯t take it any longer. He was done. He had tried, and he had failed. He was done. Next time he went down he was going to stay down.

    He stood for what seemed like forever, waiting for that final blow which never came. As suddenly as it had started, It was over.

    ¡°Not bad. We will do this again tomorrow. I¡¯ll see you here right after lunch again.¡± the scarred man said, like nothing important had just happened. Wiping the blood off his hands onto his shirt, the man walking away without looking back.

    Like the trickle of water running down an icicle as it melted in the spring sun, blood dripped off of Ashur¡¯s chin. It spattered steadily into the dirt below, and there was enough of it that it started to form a puddle. Ashur¡¯s last coherent thoughts were of the contaminated mud it would create. Bloody mud wasn¡¯t a good building material. Not only was it gross, but it stank and would not hold together like regular mud. He would have to wait for a rain to wash it away before he could use that patch of dirt for anything meaningful. The errant thought drifted off when the child collapsed into the puddle, and blackness consumed him.

    *****

    Ashur¡¯s mind climbed slowly back out of the darkness at the sound of an intense, yet whispered argument. Initially, his mind wouldn¡¯t register it as anything more than noise, but eventually the sounds slowly formed up into words, and later assembled themselves into coherent speech. The first voice he immediately recognized as his father¡¯s, but the second he was unsure of. The voice was loud and yet raspy, like it was used to yelling and was good at it. It was deep, and clearly belonged to a man. The mystery was solved  when his dad called the other voice by name, and it was one that he knew.

    ¡°Gods¡¯ damn it Thaddius, you never said the bloody bastard was insane.¡±

    ¡°I told you that he could not be trusted. I only allow him at the inn because the Ragged Cloaks demanded it. Those bastards said they would burn down my inn if I didn¡¯t let him work out of it,¡± Ashur could hear the floorboards creak under the innkeeper¡¯s worried steps.

    ¡°This kingdom is a crock of shit Adrian. Everyone demands a piece of my tavern. I am paying taxes to the Earl, sending dues to an Innkeeper¡¯s Guild I¡¯ve never seen, and yet I still have to pay off the local thugs. Even after paying for all that protection, I still have to hope some wandering overpowered asshole like Brakoli doesn¡¯t get pissed off and casually destroy my life¡¯s work. I am half tempted to move into Fraeland to get away from it all.¡±

    Thadious screamed in rage before continuing, ¡°Anyways, we agreed to let Brakoli train the boy as he saw fit, until either he or the boy said they were done. We risk upsetting him by going back on our word, and that won¡¯t help anything. Can the boy handle it? Does he have many points in vitality or maybe endurance?¡±

    ¡°Not enough for somethin¡¯ like this. Thrashin¡¯ a kid witless don¡¯t learn him nothing. But if ya think it¡¯ll get worse if we say somethin¡¯¡­¡±

    Ashur tried to listen to rest of their conversation, but their words scrambled themselves back up again, and slowly got quieter. Soon even the low sounds completely faded away and the boy returned to the darkness.