21 :: Mind Games

The heavy wooden door crashed shut as Ryan stalked out of the classroom. Adam flew through the same door moments later, but it was too late. Ryan had already vanished down one of the twisting, labyrinthine hallways. Letting out a deep sigh in exasperation, he turned and retreated back into the classroom. This was the first day he’d been able to attend classes. He wasn’t going to spend it chasing after that asshole.

The asshole in question continued to storm through hallway after hallway as his feet led him out of the building. Spilling into the street, he darted immediately towards one of the smaller side streets, leaving the familiarity of the well-traveled main road. Ryan hadn’t spent much time exploring the city, but he wanted some time alone. In order to ensure that he wouldn’t be followed by any annoying parties, he would have to start now.

Even as he meandered through the alleys nestled safely in the shade of the buildings that lined each street, a warm wind blew through his hair. Each step he took kicked up a small cloud of dust from the dry earthen path. Beads of sweat began to form on his temples as he cursed the arid heat. He had spent his entire life, up until this point, living in cooler climates, and wasn't built for weather like this. He followed whatever path had the greatest concentration of shade as his feet led him between increasingly taller buildings.

It wasn't long before he found himself reaching his limits and sank to the ground, pressing his back against the cool stone of the wall as he caught his breath. He pulled the hem of his shirt to his brow and mopped up the sweat that had gathered there. As he dried his face, he noticed a familiar jingling noise approaching him. It was a sound which he had begun to attribute to the suits of armor Umbrian’s soldiers wore. One of the guards had likely followed him as he made his rash escape. Ryan cursed under his breath as he prepared himself for confrontation.

As he pulled the shirt away from his face, he narrowed his eyes in recognition. A pair of golden eyes stared down at him coldly, framed by a short, brunette bob. It was the woman who Adam had been hanging around with lately. In her expression, now, was nothing of the cheerful familiarity that she had displayed when conversing with Adam. This expression was all business. Ryan scowled as he remembered how she had thrown herself at his classmate. It was clear from their conversation earlier that she held a strong influence over his thoughts.

“Ryan Baranov, have you calm? It time return class,” she stated in her cryptic broken English. Ryan remained silent and glared at her. “Let us leave,” she added, extending a hand. Ryan slapped it away angrily.

“Why should I return?” he shouted, “So that I can study hard and learn how to be a better slave?” Minea’s eyes darkened.

“You will return,” she insisted, crossing her arms. “We not bring you here to sit in alleys and shout nonsense.”

“Yes, yes!” Ryan exclaimed amiably as he rose to his feet. “You brought us here to strip us of our will and use us as cheap, expendable labor! Sitting here in this alley is the exact opposite of what you want, which is precisely why I’m doing it. Go ahead and make me leave!” he taunted, leaning towards her and spreading his hands, as if to surrender, “You’re a guard, so you should be capable. Use force to drag me back! It’ll only prove me right!” Minea stepped back, smiling grimly.

“If you ask so nice,” she retorted, resting her hand on the pommel of her sword.

“There it is!” Ryan chuckled wryly, inserting his hands into his pockets, wrapping his fingers around the heavy sphere he had stored there. “It didn’t take long for you to show your true face. I don’t care if you’re a guard, or if you have a sword, or if you know how to use magic. If it’s a fight you want, you’ll get it,” he snarled, raising his fists.

Ryan felt the coolness of the metal sphere against the flesh of his palm. As he focused on the sensation, he felt a faint vibration begin. The metal instantly softened, and conformed to the lines of interior of his fist. As he imagined the figure he desired, the metal sphere started to twist, as if alive, taking on a new form.

“You not get chance to fight,” Minea smirked.

By the time Ryan’s weapon had formed, it was too late. His vision was already beginning to darken. A fuzzy feeling swarmed his mind, distorting his senses. Realizing that something was wrong, he staggered as he struggled to maintain his balance. His hands swung wildly behind him, searching for the stability of the wall he had only just left behind. He blinked his eyes, trying to clear his vision, but the fog was beginning to overwhelm his consciousness. He felt his fingertips graze the wall and leaned into it. With a final groan, his knees gave out, and he slid along the wall to the ground.

Minea smiled warmly as she observed Ryan’s sleeping form. A silver dagger glinted on the ground beside him.

“I told you he was perfect!” she announced to the empty alleyway. “See? He was even hiding his strength,” she added, stooping to pick up the dagger.

“Take him away.”

* * *

Adam sat on his bed, fiddling with Nora’s note. He hadn’t made any meaningful progress, and still wasn’t really sure what he was supposed to be looking for. The day had passed uneventfully, though Ryan had never returned. That was probably for the better. It didn’t seem like Ryan would be forgiving the Umbrian people any time soon. The other students were currently at their practical lessons. Adam had escaped them with the excuse that his test results would be announced today, so he was needed at the palace.

It was dark by the time Minea knocked on his door. He grabbed his bag and headed out of his room. The sight of her welcoming smile seemed to instantly alleviate some of the stress that had accumulated during his argument with Ryan and the awkward silence that had subsequently accompanied him for the rest of the day. He smiled contently, and chatted with her about her day, as he followed her through the coiling hallways and out into the streets.

“You have made your decision? You are ready to begin?” she smiled casually, making smalltalk as they strolled towards the palace.

“Yeah,” Adam answered, returning her smile. “In the end, it wasn’t a very difficult decision.”

“This one glad you think so,” she sighed, leaning her head back to take in the night sky.

A crimson moon glowed above. The clamor of the marketplace echoed around them, as they ambled down the busy street. Adam’s eyes followed Minea as he walked. In the back of his mind, he knew that he was staring, but he couldn’t help but to be a little mesmerized by her. All the colors of the lanterns lining the street were reflected in her armor. Streaks of red and gold and green swam across her body, illuminating her entire figure. It was breathtaking. As Minea became aware of Adam’s gaze, a slight blush crept into her cheeks. Far from being troubled, though, she grinned broadly and continued speaking.

“What will you tell your classmates about your affinity?” she inquired.

“I’m not sure,” Adam sighed, returning to reality. “I was planning on asking your father.” Minea chuckled and rolled her eyes. Adam turned to her questioningly. Seeing his inquisitive gaze, she explained her response.

“Father very wise man. I just think maybe, it sometimes okay to choose for self,” she shrugged. “Most do not choose their path of magic. They must follow affinity. Many would feel jealousy at your ability to choose. You should take pleasure in it, not give it up.”

At these words, Adam grew quiet, drifting off into thought. So often in his life, he was being told what to do. His teachers at school, his parents at home, there was always somebody ready to give him orders. It was comfortable. He never had to worry much about making the right decision, because it usually wasn’t his decision to begin with. This was a big decision, so naturally he had deferred judgment to someone he considered wise.

Minea’s words, though well-meaning, made him uncomfortable. They touched upon sentiments so foreign to Adam, that they struck him like a gust of cold wind. It felt raw and unnatural, but he couldn’t help but admit that they carried some truth. Most people didn’t get to make this decision. It was a privilege and he shouldn’t spoil it.

“You’re right,” he conceded. “I hadn’t thought of it that way.”

“See?” Minea smiled. “It so exciting! I wonder what you will choose!” she remarked enthusiastically. As he walked beside her, Adam was wondering the same thing. Thinking reasonably, it would be easier to pass one of the more common affinities off as his own. The rarer elements would draw a lot of attention that he didn’t need. Fire might be good. Cogitan had chosen fire, so he might be able to offer some advice on how to use it effectively. As his mind wandered along those lines, he came to a realization.

“Come to think of it, Minea, I’ve never asked you what your affinity is,” he turned to face his companion. Minea shot him a mischievous smirk before offering her response.

“I not tell!” she proudly declared. “It will affect your choice if I tell now. I will tell only after you make choice.”

“Fine,” Adam sighed, squinting accusingly at the girl, before returning to his musings.

The two weighed the benefits and demerits of each major branch of magic all the way into the palace. By the time they had reached their destination, Adam had mostly decided on which path he would choose. This time, their meeting place was not in Cogitan’s lofty office, but somewhere in the basement of the palace. The winding pathways proved to be as much a challenge as ever, with even Minea losing her way once or twice as she lead the way. Finally, they reached an unassuming set of wooden doors.

“Father inside,” Minea directed, holding a door open for Adam to enter.

“You’re not coming with?” Adam queried. She shook her head dismissively and laughed.

“Father’s magic secret,” she explained. “I not qualified.”

“Alright. I’ll see you later,” he smiled, disappearing through the door.

The chamber within was large, round and dimly lit. The walls extended upwards into a dome. Murals depicting stars and constellations adorned the curved ceiling. Any illumination in the room came from sconces along the wall, but the ceiling was so tall, and the sconces so far apart, that their light only covered a fraction of the room’s surfaces. The remainder of the room was enveloped in shadowy flickers. At the farthest side of the room, stood a set of bookcases. To the left of the bookcases were two desks, and to their right, two iron bars extended from the wall, about three meters apart. A piece of cloth was strung between the poles, creating a sort of cot or hammock. Adam eyed the setup inquisitively as he crossed the room.

Cogitan stood in front of one of the bookcases on the far side of the room, flipping through a hefty volume. As he noticed Adam enter, he set it aside and greeted him.

“Welcome back!” he smiled warmly.

“Thank you for seeing me,” Adam replied stiffly. He still wasn’t quite sure how familiar he was supposed to be with the King’s right hand man.

“But of course!” Cogitan answered in a congenial tone, “After all, it was myself who asked you to here today. Let’s get straight to the point! Have you made a decision?”

“I have,” Adam replied without hesitation. “Please allow me to study under you.”

“Excellent,” Cogitan grinned. “I officially accept you as my pupil.” Clapping his hands together, he continued, “Now with that out of the way, why don’t we get started with your training?”

“Already?” Adam asked excitedly.

“What do you mean already?” Cogitan asked. “Your classmates have already begun their magic studies. There’s no sense in waiting.”

“I agree,” Adam nodded. “I just thought you might need time to prepare lessons.”

“Booking this room is the only preparation I need, for now. Thank you for your consideration, though. For starters, we’ll be using this,” he relayed, gesturing to the hammock .

“The first thing any beginning mage needs is awareness. We’ll work on developing that today. I want you to lay down, close your eyes, and try to relax.”

Adam followed his instructions, and pulled himself onto the cot, fumbling clumsily with the swaying cloth. After adjusting his body a bit, he found a position that was comfortable and closed his eyes.

“Ready?” Cogitan asked before proceeding. Adam nodded his assent. “Take a deep breath… hold it… now breathe it out. Breathe in like the air is thick. Suck it deep into your lungs. Let it float there, and release it. Feel the breath spinning inside you. Focus on the breath.”

Cogitan watched carefully as Adam’s breathing slowed. His muscles relaxed, and the unconscious twitching in his muscles began to cease. When he was pleased with Adam’s state of relaxation, he began to speak again.

“Now focus on your thoughts. Feel your mind. Focus on your pattern of thoughts. What makes them your thoughts? How do you recognize your mind as your own? As you attempt to make these connections, you should notice something changing. A new sense will begin to develop. It will be a sensation that feels both new, and familiar, at the same time. Focus on that sensation. Dedicate your entire mind to feeling it. Don’t question it. Don’t feel surprised. Just allow yourself to bask in it.”

“I’ll try my best,” Adam promised skeptically. He didn’t have a clue what he was supposed to be looking for, but he closed his eyes all the same. He took a deep breath and focused his attention on his mind. It buzzed with a quiet energy and Adam quickly found himself immersed in its flow, searching blindly for the sensation Cogitan had described.

* * *

Back at the academy, in his small, stone-walled dormitory, Ryan’s eyes fluttered open. A cool breath of night air filtered in through the ornate, stained glass window.

His heart beat erratically as his mind returned his body to its previous state of excitement. He gasped as he struggled to calm himself down long enough to take in his surroundings. The room was his, and it appeared to be empty. Someone must have carried him back. He wondered who.

Without a clock, it was difficult to tell how much time had passed since he blacked out. The city’s bell tower never chimed at night, so the only option he was left with was the moon. Ryan eyed the open window. At this angle, the moon would be impossible to see without leaving the bed.

As he pushed himself into a sitting position, he felt a weight hit his chest. Around his neck, hung a leather cord, on which, a small silver key was strung. He ran the edge of his thumb across the teeth of the key. Where had it come from? Why had it been given to him?

He glanced around the room to see if anything else was out of place, but nothing caught his attention. As he pulled back the blankets to leave his bed, something fell out from between the covers and hit the floor with a slap. It was a small book, bound in leather so old that it had begun to harden and crack. Set into the leather of the front cover was an ornate silver clasp with a keyhole. Ryan was not surprised to see that the key that he had found around his neck opened the lock, but he was surprised by the note which fell out from behind the front cover, as he opened it.

“Ryan Baranov,” it read, “I believe that the events recorded within the pages of this journal may be of interest to you. I have flagged a few entries that I think you will particularly enjoy. Once you begin reading, I hope you will understand that the contents of this journal are things which would be better kept to yourself, for now. Your current circumstances are much more dangerous than you or your classmates realize, but together, we can set things right. If you would like to discuss this further, I would be more than happy to accompany you tomorrow evening for a stroll through the night market. I look forward to seeing you,”

The letter was unsigned. Ryan slipped it back inside the front cover as he found himself thumbing through the pages. Stopping at a random passage, he grumbled to himself. Of course it wasn’t in English. He would have to translate it from Umbriel, and it would need to be done quickly in case he decided to attend this meeting. Carrying the book in one hand, Ryan slid out of bed and walked over to where his desk sat. He flicked the lever that ignited the flame of his lamp, and pulled out his copy of the Umbriel dictionary. He flipped through the journal until he reached the first dog-eared entry.

Ryan stumbled through each sentence, as he began deciphering the foreign text. He had wanted to avoid learning this damned language on principal, but it couldn’t be helped. That note had piqued his attention. He wanted to know what this journal contained, even if it meant learning the tongue of the people he hated. As the text unfolded before him, he began to read.