Birth of a Sorcerer

Birth of a Sorcerer

I didn’t tell him, I don’t know what he would say.  There must be something wrong with Father's lessons; I can only compare it to when he first taught me to write.  The quill was placed in my right hand and the lessons were horrid, when I placed the quill in my left on my own I found that I could write with ease!  This is how I compare Father's Magic lessons now.

When Father told me that I would be starting to learn magic I was so excited!  I had watched Father perform magic since I can remember.  His explosions of light and color to trick, the heat and searing energy to harm.  It was all so mystical!  Even before he allowed me to think of magic, he taught me that our gifts were for the betterment of the world, never to be used to oppress and destroy.  And thinking back with my knowledge now I don’t see how bettering the world could have been possible from our small corner of the woods.  You would have to travel and explore!  Defeating evil and helping good to make a differance.

Anyways, it matters not now.  Back to my original story; it would be months before he even started teaching me about the movements and words, even longer still before he gave me my first spellbook.  He taught me to read and prepare my spells after waking for the day and how to use the spells from memory.

And then it happened.  My spells fizzled day after day as Father tried to teach me, I almost gave up in frustration several times.  But each time I failed he would spend hours moving my hands and teaching me the words again, the expectant look on his face made me believe I was only a small gesture from completing the spell.

One morning after sleeping in late Father called me down to Break fast with him and I bolted out without preparing my spells thinking I would be back later.  But after we Broke our fast Father had other plans and took me outside right away.  He was certain this would be the day.  My protests must have been taken as grumblings from the day before and he shushed me.  I did not want Father to be angry because I had not meditated this morning so I went quietly after that.

Today father had set up a small figure made out of sticks and a bucket for a head.  He them told me to visualize as I cast, Visualize the most horrid nightmare ever and attack the demon!  I swallowed as my mouth had become dry, I did not want to disappoint Father again, but my fear of his greater disappointment at my lacking meditated this morning made me try anyways.

I took a deep breath and preformed the motions slowly as I said the words in a slow rhythmic fashion.  Something was different right as I started, my fingers tingled and my arms and tongue seemed to move on their own.  Just like how I pictured them moving but the difference was that it was really happening!  As my hands were brought around in the last motion a freezing blast flew from my fingertips and shattered the dummy.

I stood in the last pose for a moment to stunned to even move.  I could feel Father's grin even though I was facing away, I could feel the coolness of my fingers still, the energy was spent but I could still remember the feeling of power that flowed through my body at that moment.  I will never forget that moment, right then I knew what it was like to have a power that few others had.

Over the next week I experimented, some days I would meditate with the spellbook and some I wouldn’t.  The days I meditated with the book my spells fizzled and never left my body, but on the days I just let things go my body moved in ways I would never have thought to go and spells would leap from my fingers to their intended targets.

I still kept this knowledge to myself and made a point to pretend to read from my spellbook each morning and still was able to cast properly.  During one of the times I stole into Father's study to try to find out what was happening to me.  The only thing I could find was a footnote in a margin of a page.  It told of a source of magic rather then a channel for it.  It confused me, yet made me think.

***

"And if we mix Wikkawheat into the mixture, what are the properties..."  Father droned on in that voice he used when teaching the subjects he didn’t have that passion for.  I sighed as I wrote aimlessly with my quill, as I took notes my quill was fast enough to bring me boredom and soon enough my page had become a mess of interesting shapes and swift lines representing gestures I would try out when my personal time would finally come.

But it still would be several hours before the lesson in flora would be finished, Father had stopped my Magic lessons after an episode of leaving the sacred stones that bordered his land.  It seemed like if he stopped my magic it would force me to submit, but I could get along without his lessons now.  I didn’t tell him but things seemed to just flow when I was practicing my gestures and syllables just rolled off my tongue, effects flowed from my hands that I had never practiced before with Father.  It was almost as if my body was remembering forgotten movements to a dance I had never set foot in.

Dance! That was what I would call it; these movements came naturally as I would go smoothly from motion to motion swiftly without thought.  I remembered loving to dance as I did so; it became almost a game as it went along.  I imagined myself dancing between blades of horrid beasts whilst casting to keep my friends safe.

Friends... That was a troubling word.  Father never allowed me to leave the forest and we never had visitors, it was quite lonely at times.  Even though I loathed the Owl, Mako became my only companion.  He watched me dance with a fascination that made me believe that he had an intelligence that was hidden; I know that he reported on all of my activities to Father, but sometimes the need for a companion outweighed the risk that Father would know my actions.

Father and I often disagreed and most times in defiance I would go to the sacred stones and sit for hours at a time glairing at the invisible boundary I was forbidden to cross.  Father told me that these stones were a warning to all trespassers that this forest was protected by magic, but I could never see the significance in them.  They were just worn boulders with aged symbols in a state of decay inscribed upon them.  To the touch they were just cold rock and even if I struck them nothing ever happened.

Even my few ventures outside the boundary had no ill consequences other then Father's wrath; I could deal with that easily enough.  I did not see the harm in small ventures to visit the small pond just within eyesight of the boundary and I did visit it as often as I could, braving Father's anger each time.

In one of my daring adventures outside the border I thought I could hear voices, but as I searched all I found was an empty path.  I made myself remember how to get back to this spot, I wanted to come back during the day and study it more.  The soft flutter of wings made me move along quickly, Mako was on the search and Father would not be far behind.

***

I fell to my knees, panting hard as I wiped the sweat from my eyes.  It was not fair!  It never was!  I raised my eyes and through the smoke I saw Father standing there awaiting my next move.  I had not done anything wrong! I just traveled out of eyesight of the Sacred stones, nothing had happened.  He would have never known if Mako had not been following me like a little spy.

This was the way we settled differences now, in a dual of honor like the one's I had read about when I had stolen one of Father's books.  I think it hurt him most that I had decided to fight him in this fashion rather then just letting him punish me.  A duel could not be ignored and thrown out as childish nonsense like all the other times I tried to argue, He must then give me a chance to prove myself!

I clenched my fists as I pushed myself up from the ground, Father had either dodged or counterspelled all of my attacks like he always did and used force to throw me rather then use a damaging spell.  He was just trying to humiliate me until I just fell out of exhaustion or could not cast anymore.  But this time would be different.

I had been practicing a spell I had stolen from one of Father's old books.  It spoke of using concentrated energy to pierce armor and fly true to the target.  It might just work here...

As I stood I shifted my stance, feet apart and slightly bent forward, like as if I wanted to brace for an impact.  My words came smooth and fast as my hands moved in unfamiliar patterns.  That had been happening lately, it was almost like the magic was using me to cast itself!  As my spell was coming to a close I looked at Father.  His eyes had widened in seeing me like this, no longer the angry tantrum of a child... But the rage of a young adult.  He tried moving quickly to counterspell but I was too fast.

The energy left my hands and flew straight to their mark, striking father and causing him to fall back clutching his arm.  He looked from his limp arm and back to me, the look on his face melted my anger instantly.  He was hurt, but not from the attack, but from me.  My rage had hurt him more then any amount of magic could.  

He was silent for a moment before starting a new spell, it was one that I could not recognize and I quickly tried to form another defensive spell but failed, that missile had cost me all of my energy, I was powerless to this next attack but I would not run, this was my duel and I could not run.

His hands worked methodically and moved in a blur as words came quietly.  It was almost time for me to receive my beating.  The space in front of Father began to glow with an invisible flame and as the spell was almost complete he pointed at me.  From his finger leap a bead of flame and it streaked towards me.  Even though it was only the size of a marble it seared my skin as it came at me, I could feel it like a tiny sun bearing down on me and at the last moment I shut my eyes.  The heat was almost unbearable as I felt it near and I flinched, this would be seriously injuring.  

The heat burned the left side of my face as it came closer and when I thought I could not take it anymore it dissipated.  It just disappeared.  I opened my eyes cautiously just incase it was a feint.  But father was not standing there anymore.  He had moved off and started walking back to the house, leaving me sweating and beaten in the clearing.  His spell was the end of the duel but he had not let it take effect, his sadness could be felt at this distance as he retreated.

Father locked himself in his study for days; no sign of him was seen for almost a week.  And when he did come out he was silent and did not speak to me.  Only Mako received words and even then it was in a tongue I could not understand.  I tried to continue my studies, but without Father it was all meaningless words.  

I think then, yes, it was about then.  Was when I started planning for "That Night".

***

It would still be quite some time before I could find a way to leave, but it did not stop me from planning.  The void between Father and me seemed to grow with each passing day until we could no longer be within the same room at the same time, I know that his pain was my fault… but I longed for him to talk to me, I needed to hear his voice again speaking to me.  Our once loving home had become a shell that we lived in, the only words spoken in it was Father talking to Mako or me speaking to myself.

My only solace was my time outside dancing and practicing my casting, I would often dance the whole afternoon away, letting my body move as it willed.  Magic came to me like an old friend, as more and more often I was just an observer as my hands and tongue were taken over as spells came to me.  I couldn’t say where it all came from, I can only compare it to a song that one might have heard from childhood sung by the parents but fades as the child grows.  The magic was like that, something so familiar but so strange.  It came as easily as breathing, easier then thinking and more fluid then dance.

The seasons shifted and soon the cold breath of winter was upon the forest, it did nothing for my yearning for magic and dance but even then most of my time was spent by the large fireplace trying to continue my studies without Father’s guiding hand.  But I tried my hardest, histories of bloody warfare and conquest were the subjects of most of my books.  Even though the world seemed a place of tremendous evil from what I was reading, I knew somewhere in my heart that there must be other good people like myself and Father, maybe they were all hiding from the world like we seemed to be.

My others studies started to fail as help was not available anymore; my music suffered the most, along with Alchemy and Nature lessons.  The only things I still excelled at were Art and writing along with dance and Magic.  After my studies became almost solely consisted with the bloody history of the outside the yearning for what was out there grew, none of fathers books contained maps… At least the ones he allowed me to read.  I began to fill that void with maps I would draw in my spare time, places I could only imagine or from the descriptions from the books.  I even tried to accurately map out our forest, with some success.

Midwinter came and passed with no feast, like the last eve of Nightal it was a cold night with no special meaning anymore.  The house fell into a state of disuse as Father and I stopped interacting, I tried to keep the house clean, dusting and keeping it clean but even then I could not make it a home again on my own.

The first time Father spoke to me again was on my Day, that morning when I awoke the kitchen was warm and our table was set.  Upon the table was a meal of sweet cakes and Father waiting at his place with an untouched dish before him.  My heart leapt at this show of affection, we would be eating together for the first time in months!  I tried not to let my emotions show but I think I failed so many times, Father and I spoke lightly about matters that were unimportant, but even this small talk was welcome from the months of silence.

As spring came and thawed the forest, so did our bitterness.  Things were never the same, but we were at least civil to each other.  Father started treating me differently, he didn’t seem to be making a point but I got it.  I was not his Girl anymore, I was an adult and respect and affection would have to be earned like an adult, not just giving like to a child.

When the weather warmed I was outside as much as I could, running, dancing and exploring the forest like I would after every winter to get to know my home again.  In the months inside I had almost forgotten my longing to leave and as soon as I found the sacred stones again there it was, my prison wall.
Father made no serious attempts to curb my lust for leaving, only continuing on with the lessons he had left off at and I made more trips outside the borders within eyesight to test Father’s demeanor.  Each time Mako was on my like a hawk and not the snow owl he was and father made no mention of them, the only time he ever said anything was the time I walked for about ten minutes straight away from the stones.  Father was waiting for me perched upon the largest of the stones waiting.  Only then did I get a scolding about being away.

Even though we were talking and lessons continued, I still could not get the thought of leaving out of my mind.  At times I almost felt the same way as when I was casting, like another will was pushing me to leave… Or it could have just been me trying to justify myself.  Either way I was set in the plan to leave.

It took me several months, but by midsummer I had found my way out.  During one of my Alchemical lessons we covered the negative properties of plants used to harm rather then heal.  And there it was right in front of me, handed out by the very person I was going to betray once again.  It would be several more weeks of sneaking into Father’s study to find the perfect potion.

To make such a potion I needed several ingredients, and luckily they were all plants and other items I could ask about without raising suspicion.  It was not until a week before Highharvestside until had had all the ingredients and I could attempt to create my plan.

And try I did, I failed so many times that I was afraid I would never get it right.  But one time I made it though the process and successfully tested a small portion on a squirrel… I was ready.

I waited and waited for the most opportune moment, and I finally found it.  When I was to make the meal for the night, a quick few drops in the wine would do along with some in a treat for Mako and I would be done.  The meal went as well as most we would have, until the fateful glass of wine was drunk, at first nothing happened and I feared that I had not made it strong enough to hold a person.  But soon enough I could see the effects take hold at an amazing speed, Father was taken by surprise as his body seemed to freeze in place and he could not move.

The Paralysis was complete within moments and from the sound of a crash in the next room over I could assume that Mako had also succumbed to the effects of the potion.  I tried not to look into his eyes as I gathered my things but I could Feel Father’s disappointing gaze following me around the room.  I packed as quickly as possible a small amount of my belongings and ran.  I just ran as fast as I could, I feared the wrath of Father now more then ever.  I needed to put as much time between myself and him as I could.

As soon as I left sight of the house my feelings of guilt faded slightly and were replaced with this feeling of exhilaration!  As the stones came into view I was running faster then I had ever in my life.  I leapt the stones in a massive jump that seemed like almost flying, I let out a scream of joy as I landed and scrambled to my feet and continued on my way.  Oh I do not know how long I ran, it much have been all night!  I really just remember seeing the sun come up over a small rise.  I stopped for the first time on that small hill and looked over the plain below.

I wiped my face and for the first time I noticed I had been crying during my run and I could finally feel the cold tears as I collapsed in a heap at the base of a tree.  Even though right now I was in the greatest pain of my life, I felt more alive and free then I had ever in my entire life and as I laid their panting and shivering now from the cold I spied a small brook down the hill.  Staggering back to my feet I forced myself to make the quick trip and fell again from exhaustion a mere arms reach away from the edge of the brook and rather then try to move further I just let the gentle sound help me to trance.  It came so fast and so deep that I almost didn’t hear them…

Them… every time I ever try to remember them I will have troubled rest for days afterward.  They were my first encounter with anyone other then Father.  I remember that during my trance I could hear faint sounds but they sounded like animals playing in the brush, it was not until I heard the crack that I jolted awake in a confused state.  I turned around in time to see the blunt end of a club come across my forehead.  My vision exploded with red and I could taste the metallic tang of blood in my mouth, as my vision began to fade I could make out at least six large figures approaching me from all sides.

The nearest one, the one whom still held the club stained with my blood stepped forward to grab hold of me but I was too quick.  My escape was short lived

~Work in Progress~