If he’d been able to conjure magic, he would have most definitely launched an attack, not that it could have done much to Isip’s mortal frame. Samuel calmed himself and approached, silently wondering at how well-preserved the body was. Apart from his robe, he only wore a thin silver chain that bore an amulet. The symbol was the typical unlidded eye of Arcana.

“Is this the rights that I’m to claim?” Samuel asked aloud. Naturally, nobody was there to answer. “I hardly think the body is what I should grab.”

Deciding to risk it, Samuel reached for the amulet. He expected some kind of trap to be sprung. Perhaps mana would reach out and snare him. Or the underground rooms would collapse. Even a massive explosion would wipe him out since he couldn’t muster a defense. But nothing whatsoever happened, and his hand easily made contact with the cold metal of the amulet. The amulet seemed to radiate with its own power, and he could tell at once that this would mark him as Champion.

He wondered briefly if he should offer some sort of prayer to Arcana before taking it, but disregarded the notion. He wasn’t one for religious ceremony, and he doubted that a logical being such as the god would care one way or another. Arcana had been quite clear about making him his Champion, so Samuel simply lifted the silver chain from around Isip’s neck and removed it, slipping it over his own head. It hung heavy there, next to the old bronze key on its leather loop.

The amulet pulsed with new life as he rested it against his chest. It sensed the mana that flooded his body and seemed to approve of its new owner. Heaving a slight sigh of relief, Samuel studied the inert body further. Despite the fact that the god had deserted it nearly a hundred years ago, it was still full of Arcana’s mana, a dense white field of energy that was almost blinding to his eyes.

Upon further study of the mana, he found it to be identical to the energy that flowed within himself. This made sense, of course, because as the god’s Champion, he was filled with his former essence. A god had no need for mana, and Samuel had agreed to take it on in order to save Arcana’s life. Was this extra mana his to take, then? It was logical to assume so, but the main problem was that he had no idea how to accomplish it.

Deciding to leave it for the time being, Samuel surrounded himself with wind once more and floated up out of the small hole. He landed outside the brazier just as it closed once more, and donned his robe and satchel once more. Brushing his overlong hair out of his eyes, he turned back to the long tunnel that led out. It was only then that he realized he was still within the anti-magic field and had no chance of using magic to return to the cave entrance above.

“Well, this is a fine fix I’ve found myself in,” he muttered to himself. “How am I supposed to get back out?”

He could pray to Grimr for help. Maybe he’d ask the Ancient to bring a really long rope to pull him up the first twenty feet, and he could fly the rest of the distance. But quite apart from not wanting to hear his friend’s sarcastic enjoyment of his predicament, he knew that it was impossible for a rope that long to exist. He mentally kicked himself for not seeing this problem ahead of time.

He paced back and forth for quite some time, trying to think of some solution before he found a potential answer. He was trapped inside an area that prevented him from using mana to cast spells. But that wasn’t all there was to magic, he remembered. There was at least one type of magic that did not rely upon mana to use. Perhaps it was worth a try to cast his first kind of Ahyan magic.

First, he had to sort through the new knowledge of the language he’d just been given. There were thousands, possibly hundreds of thousands of words to choose from. Sure, he knew the language now, but he’d only ever spoken a few words, and none of them would help him now. Just knowing the word wasn’t enough, either. He had to be very careful in his intention, or it could turn very horrible for him.

He decided to experiment with something small first. Placing his hand on one of the walls, he closed his eyes in concentration. He couldn’t use his mana to explore the space, of course, but he could still feel a faint sense of energy coming from the wall. It was small and insignificant, and without his new knowledge, he likely wouldn’t have noticed it.

“Gumalaw.” He spoke firmly, using the word for ‘move’. Nothing whatsoever happened. “Hmm. That could mean that even the Ancient tongue won’t help me, or it could mean that I used the wrong word.”

Hoping that the latter was true, he searched his mind for another option, finally coming upon a similar word. “Galawin.”

It still meant ‘move’ in the end, but it could also be taken to mean ‘displace’, or ‘shift’. It was clearly the right word to choose, because, at his command, the stone wall of the chamber caved ever so slightly. There was no great sound or rumble to accompany the movement, but a small divot the size of his hand appeared in the wall.

“That’s promising,” he mused, staring at the previously smooth and featureless section of the wall. “But how can I use this magic to escape?”

He went back to pacing around the room as he thought, relying on his old practice of relaxing his mind completely. Abstract thoughts flitted through his mind, and he examined each one, viewing it as a possible answer before ultimately letting it pass. The main problem was that he didn’t dare risk creating anything with words, for that was complex, and he didn’t want to risk seriously injuring himself.

He tried to find some way to change his surroundings to his advantage. The only element present in the chambers was stone, of course, but then again, he could feel a faint breeze coming from the entrance, a weak remnant of the more powerful winds that blew against the peak above. Perhaps there was something there, he thought.

“Umikot,” he said. Now the breeze seemed to come from the opposite direction, flowing up toward the peak. Pleased, he gave his next word. “Lumago!”

Nothing happened. Blinking in confusion, he reviewed his thought process. That was the word Grimr had used a month ago when demonstrating the Ancient language. He’d spoken that exact word and caused a flame to grow stronger. Apparently, the same word could not help him here. Maybe a similar word would suffice.

“Lumakas?” he said uncertainly. The wind grew a little stronger, but his intent was too weak. Clearing his through, he repeated the word more firmly. “Lumakas!”

The reaction was immediate and intense. Winds like that of the strongest storm surged upward, catching his hair and robes, almost lifting him off his feet with the force of their passage. He instinctively ducked down, then remembered that he wanted to be lifted up. He encouraged the wind to grow a little more, and it complied at once, lifting him gently off his feet. It was a slow start, but soon he was shooting up quickly, clearing the field of anti-magic that had trapped him.

The wind he’d summoned faded quickly, but it had given him enough time to use his own magic to catch himself. He hovered in place, breathing heavily from the exertion and excitement, staring down at the sandy floor below. Shaking his head at the lucky chance, he pushed himself back up toward the peak. After a short flight, he found himself on the peak once more.

He staggered slightly upon landing again, but more from exhaustion than lack of control. Plopping down on the ground and spreading out, he took a moment to recover. He may have had a larger than normal amount of mana to use, but the constant draining of his resources with the flying magic was starting to take its toll. The simple idea of trying to use it to scale the mountain was beyond him at the moment.

Just another reason to visit the college again, he thought. He’d barely learned enough to take the first year’s final examinations, and though he’d performed well, he knew that there were still vast stores of knowledge that he had no idea of. Reapplying to the college could help him fill the gaps in his learning, and make him a more competent mage. He hoped that he could find a teacher like Astori, he thought. The wise bald man would doubtless have passed, but perhaps he had apprentices left within the school.

Samuel took advantage of the necessary rest and made himself a small fire for coffee. He unwrapped another of the parcels from Thomas, revealing two pieces of sliced bread with slices of cold ham and some white cheese placed between them. He noticed a mix of white and yellow sauces as he peeled the bread apart, and the smell made his mouth water. Taking a curious bite, his eyebrows went up in surprise and enjoyment. The ham was juicy and sweet, and one of the sauces was tangy. The two flavors worked together exceptionally well.

Since he’d first stepped out of Harlest on his journey back to the capital, he’d felt a great sense of excitement and freedom. But here, on the top of the world with the eastern half of the country within view, he couldn’t help but notice strange energy falling over the land. He would come to learn the source of this later, of course, but with his simple meal on the peak, he was blissfully unaware. He had good food and coffee, and all seemed right with the world.