“So let’s review what you’ve learned so far.”

Tobi had spoken suddenly, without preamble, as they sat around a small fire that night, relaxing after a hefty meal and nursing a cup of coffee each. They had made slow progress through the foreign country due to the lack of details on the map, and by Samuel’s best estimation, they were only a few miles away from the coast. Exhausted from the day’s travel, they’d settled in the first sheltered campsite they could find.

“What?” Samuel asked, spluttering as he lowered his coffee cup. “After the day we’ve had?”

“Indeed,” Tobi said firmly, draining the rest of his cup and setting it down. He clambered to his feet swiftly and pulled out the two practice weapons. “Put in a little effort, so we can assess your progress.”

Letting out a long sigh, Samuel too drained his cup. He’d agreed to let Tobi teach him the sword in return for his arcane tutelage, but at the time, he’d never realized that the laid-back youth could be such a stern figure. Not the trait you should have inherited from your father, he thought with a dour expression. Grinning at his hesitation, Tobi tossed the wooden sword and he caught it.

“At least your reflexes are better,” Tobi said with a quiet laugh. “Now show me the basic form.”

Deciding that further complaints would get him nowhere, Samuel braced his feet apart and crouched slightly. He was curious to see if he’d made any notable change, as the fight with the bandits in Gorteau had been his only real experience. He lifted the sword in front of him, presenting it to Tobi with a slight slant. The youth had drilled into him that holding the sword perfectly straight only invited his enemies to strike from the other side, and this middle position allowed him to react faster.

“Good,” Tobi said, nodding slightly. He could find nothing in Samuel’s stance to correct. “Assume your opponent has a shield, and continue.”

Samuel slid his front foot forward a few inches, going into a low crouch and thrusting the sword out. At the end of the weapon’s path, he brought his back leg forward, and, using the strength of his wrist, whipped the weapon back and up, miming an overhead strike at an enemy’s shield. Almost immediately after this move, with most of his weight on his lead foot, he jumped to the left in a smooth sidestep and thrust again, but on an angle.

“Good,” Tobi said again. “Can you explain the purpose of this combination?”

Samuel reeled the answer off at once, confident in his memory. “The first strike is to force him to parry me. The second is to raise his shield, blinding him against the final strike, which is delivered while his shield is out of position.”

“Exactly,” Tobi agreed. “Now we spar.”

He lifted his own weapon into a ready position, slipping into the necessary starting stance with unconscious ease. They kept the pace slow at first, trading basic strikes and parries until Samuel was warmed up. Then he began to present more challenging combinations, the tip of his weapon a blur as he jabbed and struck, always flicking back in time to parry Samuel’s own counter-attacks away. He showed no sign of smugness or pride in his moves, and always backed off when Samuel started to get overwhelmed.

The trouble with having such a skilled and attentive teacher was that Tobi could always tell when he was about to reach his limit. He would ease up when he found it, bringing the tempo of the fight down a bit, only to return to the limit within a minute. And once he was there, he stayed there. In Samuel’s eyes, he may as well have been fighting a brick wall for all the progress he made. Forehand, backhand, feint, lunge, thrust, parry, it continued endlessly, and he made no successful contact. There were no weaknesses for him to exploit, apart from those that Tobi intentionally created.

Finally, exhausted from the explosion of movement, Samuel made a mistake too great to correct. He lunged desperately with the point of his weapon at an all too obvious opening, and Tobi’s weapon slammed into his, beating it out of his tired hand and sending it flying several feet to the side, disappearing into the bushes. Tobi’s retaliatory strike was already on the way as Samuel staggered, but the blow stopped just shy of contact, coming to rest lightly on his back.

“That’s better,” His apprentice said. “The only way to get stronger is to surpass your limits.”

Samuel allowed his legs to give then, sitting down on the packed dirt of the trail with considerable force. “So says you. I’ve gotten by in life in my own way for a while now, thank you very much.”

Tobi only chuckled quietly in response, walking over to fetch Samuel’s wooden sword from where it lay in the bushes. After returning both weapons to his pack, he settled himself back down beside the fire, stretching luxuriously with a long sigh. The sight of him totally relaxed, showing no sign of exhaustion after the bout that had left him limp irritated Samuel. And suddenly, an idea occurred to him; an idea that gave him new strength. He forced strength into his legs and stood up.

“Your turn,” he said with a sadistic grin, hoping he sounded just as light and airy as Tobi had. “Time to start teaching you magic.”

Tobi glanced up, and Samuel felt a small flare of pleasure at the uncertainty in his apprentice’s eyes. “Now? Just before bed?”

“Indeed,” Samuel said, mimicking Tobi’s words from a quarter of an hour earlier. “Put in a little effort, so we can assess your progress.”

Realizing what Samuel was up to, Tobi rose to the challenge at once, a defiant light entering his eye. He got up from the ground and took off his outer robe, draping it over his pack, then moved to stand before Samuel, ready to begin. “Very well. I look forward to learning from you.”

Samuel took only a moment to think, deciding the first step with ease. It had a sense of historical poetry to it, he thought, as he turned from Tobi and selected a fairly large rock from the ground. Turning back, he handed the stone over to his apprentice, who held it with one hand, looking confused.

“Break the boulder,” Samuel said firmly. Then, as Tobi opened his mouth to comply, he cut him off. “Without an incantation.”

“But non-verbal magic is too high-level for me!” Tobi protested. “That’s for Masters and Archmages!”

“I had less formal training than you when I first did it,” Samuel countered. “It has nothing to do with skill, but concentration.”

Remembering Grimr’s lecture from what only felt like months ago, he continued his explanation. “Magic is fueled by mana. Words are only a way to guide the energy into a spell. Gain mastery over your mana, and you will be stronger for it.”

He picked up another rock then, slightly smaller than Tobi’s and filled it with his mana. Then, as he’d done for Master Astori on his first day at the College, he pulled his mana down, crumbling the rock into a fine dust that slipped through his fingers. Tobi’s eyes widened at the sheer speed of the transformation from solid rock to a clump of dust, his mouth falling open slightly.

“You did this as a novice mage?” He asked, looking up at Samuel’s face.

“On my very first day. In fact, it was the first piece of magic that I did myself.”

His eyes filled with eagerness instead of a challenge now, Tobi turned his attention back to the large rock in his hand. With a spoken incantation, of course, he’d have no trouble with the test. The simplest Destruction spell would suffice. Or even coaxing his mana into it as Samuel had done, but with vocal guidance. But the mere idea that he could command his mana instead of speaking the words was an exciting prospect.

Samuel took a few steps back to avoid distracting him, and watched the process carefully. Tobi gripped the rock as hard as he could in his sudden concentration, and his lips pursed together tightly to avoid the temptation to say the incantation that kept springing to his tongue. His face flushed with the effort, he slowly pooled mana into the rock in his hand. It looked like it was costing him a great deal, Samuel thought, and wondered idly why it had been such an easy idea to him his first time.

Tobi’s mana fluttered, then faded, as he lost his concentration, and he let out a frustrated sigh. Undeterred, he switched the rock to his left hand, bounced slightly on the balls of his toes, then settled down to focus again with fresh determination. After what felt like an hour, Samuel could see his mana reach the density it needed, and, with a grin, Tobi pushed his own mana outward, instantly turning the rock into a clump of dust that popped outward.

“Good,” Samuel said formally at first, then couldn’t resist himself. “I mean great. Well done, Tobi. Just remember that feeling. Work your mana by itself without words, and you’ll strengthen the control that is needed for magic.”

They returned to the camp and to their bedrolls then, settling in for the night. At random intervals, Samuel felt Tobi’s mana move, and glanced over to see him turning random pebbles into dust. After about the fifth time this happened, Tobi noticed his curious look and grinned guiltily.

“Sorry,” he said sheepishly. “Just want to make sure I don’t forget it.”

“You won’t,” Samuel said, rolling over so his back was to the dying flames. “I can tell you have a lot of potential. You’ve got this handled.”