Firebrand

Strength in Others

After the first month, Martel began to feel settled. When he thought of home, he thought of his small chamber in the boys' dormitory rather than the crowded house in Engby, containing one large room where all his family members slept.

His circle of friends in and outside the Lyceum stayed narrow. Maximilian remained the one person from school he spent time with and whose company he could rely on. Some of the elemental acolytes did treat him with some cordiality, such as Henry, the airmage who manned the desk in the entrance hall. Most of his time, though, Martel spent alone, practising his art.

He did not venture much outside of school, unless assisting the artificer with tasks. While his own schoolwork kept Martel busy, Shadi spent her time helping her father in his workshop. As the weather grew worse, strengthening winter's hold, the city became quiet. Winter storms kept the harbour closed except for the most daring vessels with the bravest seamages aboard, bringing desperately needed supplies to the war front. Thus, one day following the next, Martel's life at the Lyceum became routine.

It was after Martel's first three months that two things of note happened. Spring arrived, bringing new activities to Morcaster; and Martel finished astronomy to begin learning the theory of magic instead.

~

The classroom lay in the astronomy tower, just one floor below where he had learned about stars. As Martel arrived, he found a bunch of novices, even newer at the Lyceum than him, waiting to begin their first lesson.

Their teacher entered. "I am Master Fenrick. I am to teach you a basic understanding of magic." His eyes ran over the students without showing any particular recognition for Martel. "Let me begin by illustrating that while magic poses many questions, answers are few. But perhaps some in this room will one day dedicate their life to finding just one such answer."

Some looked at their teacher with curiosity or excitement; others seemed less enthused.

"Why do we have magic? Us in particular. Why do you sit here and not your brother or sister?" Master Fenrick asked. "How many of you have parents that are mages?"

None of the students raised a hand.

"We can conclude it is not our bloodline. The daughter of a pig farmer seems as likely to possess magic as the emperor's son," the master said, making some of the students giggle. "Nor is it exclusive to our lands, as the Sindhians and Tyrians prove."

"What is it then?" one novice dared to ask.

Master Fenrick shrugged. "We cannot say. The Archeans believed it was influenced by the positions of the stars at the time of our birth, but if they had proof of this, it has been lost. Not to mention, this could suggest magic to be entirely coincidental. Being born one day sooner or later could have robbed you of your gift."

"But – what does that mean?"

"It means you most likely will spend your lives never knowing why the greatest gift happened to be bestowed on you." Master Fenrick scratched his beard. "Now for another question that we can answer. Where does magic reside?"

"Around us?"

"In the air?"

"In our brains?"

Martel kept quiet; Master Alastair had told him of this, so answering felt like cheating.

"To answer that I must first take a step back and ask, what does a human being consist of?" Master Fenrick told them. "Again, and this time we do have more extensive materials, the Archeans tell us that a man consists of soul, mind, and body. Notice the order – it is not random."

Martel repeated the words to himself silently.

"In Archen, each of these three could power magic. How? We return to questions unanswered. But believe me, if any of you could ever unlock the magic of the mind or the soul, the emperor would bury you in gold. You'd be the most influential mage in the history of Aster."

Master Fenrick's words had an effect on even the most sluggish of students, and they all stared at him.

"The magic you can all do, which earned you your place at the Lyceum, comes from your body. There are different words for it, but energy or life force seems most fitting to me. As you draw on the physical life force from yourself, your magic takes effect."

"Is that why it's tiring to do magic?"

The teacher nodded. "Exactly. You can train your body to withstand the effects longer, but ultimately, that is the limit. Keep casting magic and your body will falter, much like whipping a horse to run until it falls down."

A question formed on Martel's lips that felt wrong; yet he could not help but be curious. "Can you use the life force of another to power your magic?"

Master Fenrick's eyes turned on him with a piercing gaze. "Yes. Thankfully, that knowledge was also lost in the fall of Archen. To do so would make you a maleficar. You would soon find the golden chain of an inquisitor strangling you to death."

The dire warning made the room fall quiet, and Master Fenrick continued with another topic.

~

Unlike astronomy, which had only been one lesson a fiveday, theory of magic occupied two. And the second was not in the same classroom as before, but the gymnasium according to Martel's instructions.

A little confused, Martel went to the arena for the sixth bell. He found the other novices from the earlier lesson also present, so he assumed the instructions were true. He glanced around the amphitheatre, which held mixed memories for him already. He dearly hoped the location did not mean that Reynard was to teach the second lesson of the day.

As Master Fenrick walked in, Martel felt his fears dissipate. "Alright, listen," the teacher spoke, getting their attention. "While your first lesson will focus on the theory itself, this lesson will be more practical. Its purpose is to train your magical stamina, so to say, hence why we meet here. All of you, sit down."

They each found a seat on the ground.

"Earth tends to be the easiest element to work with. Most responsive. Maybe because it is heavier. All of you should be able to influence it at least a little. Look around and find a small pebble. The smaller, the better."

Every student did so.

Master Fenrick had found one for himself as well. Extending his hand for them all to see, the little stone lay on his palm. Slowly, it rose into the air. "The simplest of magical feats and thus useful for you to practise your endurance. Everyone, do the same with your own pebble. Keep it floating for as long as you can."

Martel looked at the small stone in his hand. He let his magic grab hold of it, rising into the air. Around him, the other novices did the same. For most of them, it quickly fell down again while a few, Martel included, could keep it floating longer until they also lost control.

"Magic may have been given to you, but mastery takes patience and discipline. Again," Master Fenrick told them. Over the course of the full bell, they practised to unlock their magic power.

~

Due to his outings into town, spurred by Maximilian, Martel's small hoard of silver grew only slowly. Yet after months of working for the artificer, he finally had seventeen silver coins and a few more to spare. He poured the amount into a pouch, a gift from Maximilian, and left the boys' dormitory tower. He went straight north to reach its counterpart for the female students.

Martel had passed through its common room on the ground floor a few times, going to or from class. He had never had reason to stop or visit anyone there. As he entered it now without continuing through, he soon drew the attention of the girls congregated. Their looks ranged from questioning to dismissive or unfriendly.

Turning to one who seemed the most predisposed to help, Martel cleared his throat. "I'm looking for Eleanor Fontaine. Do you know her room?"

The girl, a watermage by her robe, glanced over Martel. "Aren't we feeling bold."

Not sure how to interpret that, he tried again. "Do you know her room?"

"Yeah. Fourth floor, eighth room. Good luck," she told him. As he walked away towards the stairs, he heard her mutter to her companion. "There goes another one."

Martel ascended three floors up from the ground and entered the corridor. Passing their water fountain, he found the eighth room and knocked.

A girl wearing the red robe of a battlemage opened. "What?"

Martel's eyes darted from the door number to the girl. "I was looking for Eleanor." He cleared his throat. "Fontaine."

"She doesn't live on this floor."

"I was told fourth floor, room eight."

"Then you're an imbecile who can't count. This is the third floor."

Martel looked towards the staircase. "I thought for sure I walked three floors up."

"Yeah, you did, so this is the third floor."

The novice blinked, perplexed. "But – the common room is first floor, and three up, that's four."

The girl gave the deepest sigh. "The common room is the ground floor, moron. After that comes the first floor."

Martel, who had never been inside a building with more than one floor until he came to Morcaster, simply stared. "That doesn't make sense."

"Yeah, well I didn't decide it." The girl slammed the door shut.

As debating with a closed door was futile, Martel decided to accept her words and try one floor up. Apprehensive, he knocked on room eight.

With a little relief, he saw Eleanor as the door opened. "Martel? What is it?"

Looking past into her room, he noticed it was larger than his, with more furniture. A wardrobe for clothes, and an extra chair. It took him a moment to remember the reason for his visit. "I came to pay you back." He grabbed his pouch and opened it, dumping all its silver into his hand. "For the balm you gave me. Back when I first arrived."

He held out his hand and let the silver fall into hers; being smaller, she had to cup both together to catch the coins. "Martel, I didn't expect you to pay anything back."

Because she considered him poor, Martel immediately thought, but he kept it to himself. "Well, I didn't want you to be inconvenienced."

She looked at him. "Martel, are you a friend to me?"

"I should like to be."

"In that case," she said and dropped the silver right back in his hand, "friends do not repay gifts. And I would rather have friendship than coin."

"Oh. Well that's very nice."

She smiled. "I am glad you agree."

"Do you want to go to the spring faire?" he blurted out. "With Maximilian and me. And another friend," he added, just so she would not think his goal was to be alone with her. "Tomorrow afternoon, at sixth bell."

"I was going to –" She paused. "Yes. That sounds entertaining. I will."

"Great! See you tomorrow!" One hand full of coins, Martel waved with the other as he walked down the corridor. Eleanor watched him with a wry expression before she closed her door.