Chapter 5
Another six months had passed since Donovan and his party had the encounter with the catlike Pontia. Many smaller battles had come and gone during that time, and almost all of them dealt with a human element: thieves, murderers, and the occasional drunken riot.
These were simple adversaries. They did not pose a tremendous danger, and these enemies could be captured and possibly rehabilitated. Not all of them needed to be wiped clean from the world.
He had visited his home numerous times over the course of this time. He and his parents had long discussions about his calling in life.
His mother and father would reassure him that the correct path was that outlined by God and the Heavens. He was doing the world a service; doing his faith a service.
His sister, who still worked in the bakery, would occasionally chime in with her thoughts. They would cheer him up a bit, but they still were just the thoughts of a small child. He still often wished that he had stayed as a baker and continued the family's craft.
Today was another lesson about magic from the academy. Donovan, while proficient with the most basic of spells, did not excel at the mystic arts. For example he could calm the frantic mind or he could enchant his sword with a pulse of holy energy, but he struggled, often getting terribly frustrated, when trying his hand at new magic.
The class today consisted of himself, a few older pupils, and two fresh recruits from this past spring. The magic trainer for the day was an older male mage called Tournee. He wore a short white beard, and a long curled mustache. He had been with the Church for the past three decades, mostly holding sermons and performing marriages. Almost every member of a parish taught lessons as some point during their career, and Tournee was familiar with some advanced projectile spells.
They were going to practice tossing crystal like shards called gasspin. Gasspin were created via a mixture of bonemeal and a short chant. Several gasspin could be cast in succession, pinning or penetrating whatever you focused on. The shards would either shatter upon impact, or transform back into dust shortly thereafter. A handful of bonemeal and the proper technique could create about seven deadly shards for experienced wizards.
Training dummies made of timber and covered with straw could be found scattered at different lengths along the practice field. Representing human targets, numerous cuts and marks littered each of them from years of training. Each looked terribly ragged, and appeared like they might break and fall over if hit with a strong enough force.
Tournee did not like long speeches about casting spells. He preferred a long drawn out sermon, but as far as he was concerned magic was something inert inside of you. You either knew the spell immediately via seeing it by example, or you did not know it all. Using some meal he had in a small pouch, he generated a single gasspin shard which rocketed towards a training dummy. It stuck into the upper body of the mannequin with a quiet thump. After a quick instruction in the correct verbiage and hand gesture, he told each student to gather a small amount of bonemeal in their hand. A large sack full of the substance lay at the entrance to the field.
The older students easily and quickly performed the spell. Each successfully created a single shard, which flew straight and true to its target. One of the younger pupils also successfully performed the spell.
Donovan struggled for several minutes to create a shard. After speaking the quick chant, the powder in his hand would quiver a little then stop moving. On a second try, tiny transparent crystals appeared in the meal, but nothing resembling the desired shard.
He was beginning to get angry. He walked back over to the sack of meal to replenish his supply, and attempted to motivate himself. He envisioned the gasspin in his hand, and argued with the imaginary shard to move to its target. In his mind, the crystal dagger flew perfectly out of his hand.
He said the chant aloud again, and the sand in his hand failed to move. He clenched his teeth, grinding them back and forth. His cheeks were noticeably becoming red with embarrassment. He could feel a warming sensation climbing up his back through his spine and up into his ears. He was almost on the verge of shouting.
He attempted this time, clearly focusing on the task at hand. The powder quickly formed into a trio of long shards shaped like crude daggers. With the force of a gale wind, one after the other launched forth from his outstretched hand. One by one they slammed into the body of a dummy at a mid-distance into the field. When the third gasspin struck, a cracking noise could be heard and the mannequin toppled over. The support beam had been split by the force of the spell.
Tournee was taken by surprise by the force of the blow and called for the other students to stop with their chants. He walked out into the target area, motioning for Donovan to follow. When they reached the dummy on the ground, each stared at the gasspin embedded in the dummy. The first crystal shard had shattered on impact; several fragments remained embedded in the grains of wood. The second had hit the chest and deeply sunken itself midway into the target. The third and final gasspin shard had hit the head of the dummy directly in its middle. The final crystal had a purple hue that shone in the morning light; a webbing of spiderlike fractures peppered its interior.
"Good work young man," Tournee chimed in. "With focus, you were able to let the spell flow out of you. As you can see by calling upon the Heavens to heed your words, they have blessed you with a weapon that has flown straight and true. The magic obeyed your commands and to the best of its ability destroyed your enemy according to your wishes."
Donovan felt uplifted by this. He had succeeded just where he thought he would fail. His faith had performed for him: guiding his thoughts and the actions of the shards. With a smile, he walked back down the field towards the other students.
His mood greatly improved after the session. He no longer looked like his usual downtrodden self during his studies. He again saw purpose in the lessons that he was learning. Spells seemed to come to him more easily now; his fighting motions much more honed. Even Sidney noticed a considerable difference in the demeanor of his friend.
Continue to Chapter 6
These were simple adversaries. They did not pose a tremendous danger, and these enemies could be captured and possibly rehabilitated. Not all of them needed to be wiped clean from the world.
He had visited his home numerous times over the course of this time. He and his parents had long discussions about his calling in life.
His mother and father would reassure him that the correct path was that outlined by God and the Heavens. He was doing the world a service; doing his faith a service.
His sister, who still worked in the bakery, would occasionally chime in with her thoughts. They would cheer him up a bit, but they still were just the thoughts of a small child. He still often wished that he had stayed as a baker and continued the family's craft.
Today was another lesson about magic from the academy. Donovan, while proficient with the most basic of spells, did not excel at the mystic arts. For example he could calm the frantic mind or he could enchant his sword with a pulse of holy energy, but he struggled, often getting terribly frustrated, when trying his hand at new magic.
The class today consisted of himself, a few older pupils, and two fresh recruits from this past spring. The magic trainer for the day was an older male mage called Tournee. He wore a short white beard, and a long curled mustache. He had been with the Church for the past three decades, mostly holding sermons and performing marriages. Almost every member of a parish taught lessons as some point during their career, and Tournee was familiar with some advanced projectile spells.
They were going to practice tossing crystal like shards called gasspin. Gasspin were created via a mixture of bonemeal and a short chant. Several gasspin could be cast in succession, pinning or penetrating whatever you focused on. The shards would either shatter upon impact, or transform back into dust shortly thereafter. A handful of bonemeal and the proper technique could create about seven deadly shards for experienced wizards.
Training dummies made of timber and covered with straw could be found scattered at different lengths along the practice field. Representing human targets, numerous cuts and marks littered each of them from years of training. Each looked terribly ragged, and appeared like they might break and fall over if hit with a strong enough force.
Tournee did not like long speeches about casting spells. He preferred a long drawn out sermon, but as far as he was concerned magic was something inert inside of you. You either knew the spell immediately via seeing it by example, or you did not know it all. Using some meal he had in a small pouch, he generated a single gasspin shard which rocketed towards a training dummy. It stuck into the upper body of the mannequin with a quiet thump. After a quick instruction in the correct verbiage and hand gesture, he told each student to gather a small amount of bonemeal in their hand. A large sack full of the substance lay at the entrance to the field.
The older students easily and quickly performed the spell. Each successfully created a single shard, which flew straight and true to its target. One of the younger pupils also successfully performed the spell.
Donovan struggled for several minutes to create a shard. After speaking the quick chant, the powder in his hand would quiver a little then stop moving. On a second try, tiny transparent crystals appeared in the meal, but nothing resembling the desired shard.
He was beginning to get angry. He walked back over to the sack of meal to replenish his supply, and attempted to motivate himself. He envisioned the gasspin in his hand, and argued with the imaginary shard to move to its target. In his mind, the crystal dagger flew perfectly out of his hand.
He said the chant aloud again, and the sand in his hand failed to move. He clenched his teeth, grinding them back and forth. His cheeks were noticeably becoming red with embarrassment. He could feel a warming sensation climbing up his back through his spine and up into his ears. He was almost on the verge of shouting.
He attempted this time, clearly focusing on the task at hand. The powder quickly formed into a trio of long shards shaped like crude daggers. With the force of a gale wind, one after the other launched forth from his outstretched hand. One by one they slammed into the body of a dummy at a mid-distance into the field. When the third gasspin struck, a cracking noise could be heard and the mannequin toppled over. The support beam had been split by the force of the spell.
Tournee was taken by surprise by the force of the blow and called for the other students to stop with their chants. He walked out into the target area, motioning for Donovan to follow. When they reached the dummy on the ground, each stared at the gasspin embedded in the dummy. The first crystal shard had shattered on impact; several fragments remained embedded in the grains of wood. The second had hit the chest and deeply sunken itself midway into the target. The third and final gasspin shard had hit the head of the dummy directly in its middle. The final crystal had a purple hue that shone in the morning light; a webbing of spiderlike fractures peppered its interior.
"Good work young man," Tournee chimed in. "With focus, you were able to let the spell flow out of you. As you can see by calling upon the Heavens to heed your words, they have blessed you with a weapon that has flown straight and true. The magic obeyed your commands and to the best of its ability destroyed your enemy according to your wishes."
Donovan felt uplifted by this. He had succeeded just where he thought he would fail. His faith had performed for him: guiding his thoughts and the actions of the shards. With a smile, he walked back down the field towards the other students.
His mood greatly improved after the session. He no longer looked like his usual downtrodden self during his studies. He again saw purpose in the lessons that he was learning. Spells seemed to come to him more easily now; his fighting motions much more honed. Even Sidney noticed a considerable difference in the demeanor of his friend.
Continue to Chapter 6
posted by The Floating Cat @ 1:12 AM
1 Comments:
At 10:22 PM,
Jessica M. Green said…
I'm envisioning an almost "Star Wars"-like scene here, almost out in the desert somewhere. Maybe you could insert a little bit further description in the writings about the physical environment, if it is relevant?
I am able to identify easily with Donovan, but it is hard to paint the surrounding pictures with little to go on but recent movies of similar types of fantasy stories. I'm having a hard time envisioning the practice dummies with the straw, as well.
The timing is well placed - the passing of years and months does not bother me as a reader. Your story is developing nicely. I hope you don't mind the comments I have given. They are only worth about $0.000000001 in the world of fiction!
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