Chapter 6

Az tried not to let his irritation show as he waited for the class to begin. The first class of the year - Magical Theory - was now five minutes late to commence. There was no sign of the instructor, one Ms. Lenz, and the classroom was filled with the raucous chatter of three hundred bored teenagers.

Az pushed his rising impatience down, maintaining a visage of grace and tranquility that even his mother would have been proud of. As he had expected, his bags had contained an assortment of outfits of the latest fashions, and Az had received more than a few sneers and snickers as he had entered the classroom. The opinions of his peers did not matter to him, let them think he was some spoiled fop. He would soon show them the truth. He wondered idly if any of them knew that he had received this year’s best score on the entrance examinations.

It was at that moment that over the din of conversation Az heard the distinct sound of a door being thrown open. He glanced back and saw a smartly dressed woman with a severe expression marching her way to the front of the room. Like so many others he had seen at the academy, she possessed that ageless quality of experienced mages that made it impossible to gauge her true age. A hush gradually fell over the expectant students as she neared the blackboard at the front of the room.

Ms. Lenz produced a stick of chalk from her flowing sleeves and immediately began writing on the board. With aggressive, almost violent strokes of the chalk, she finished writing her name and spun on her heel to face the class.

“Welcome to Introductory Magical Theory. My name is Ms. Lenz, and you will address me as such. I will instruct you on this key subject, and make no mistake, this is the most important class you will ever take during your time at the academy, however limited that time may be.”

She paused to let her words sink in, surveying the room with a challenging expression, as if daring anyone to say otherwise. Az noticed she made no mention of her own tardiness. He didn’t know why she made that comment about being at the academy for a limited time. Expulsion was incredibly rare. Gaining entry to the academy’s ranks was the most difficult hurdle; once you were in, you were in for life if you wished, though classes were typically offered only as a four-year curriculum. A member of the academy had access to the grounds’ facilities for as long as they desired. Maybe she was using the threat of expulsion as some sort of motivational tool.

A flash of disappointment passed over Ms. Lenz’s face as the students stared back at her in silence, but she continued regardless, “Now, we will begin with the very basics. For those of you that were precocious children, I am sure you will find much of the content of the first few lectures rather remedial, but it is paramount that we establish a flawless foundation in our students. Any deficiencies in knowledge of the basic principles of magic will be quickly remedied.”

She turned back to the board, and began to speak again, “Every sentient creature is born with a source of mana connected to their soul. Human mages call this well of power a nexus.”

The word nexus quickly appeared on the board and there was a great burst of action as students rushed to scribble the word down on the paper they had brought with them. Az’s eye twitched; this was going to be a long class.

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Next on the day’s schedule was Basics of Battlemagic with Mr. Zim. Az and forty other students stood in an ordered line against one of the wall’s of the academy’s primary exercise hall as Mr. Zim strolled up and down the line, hands clasped behind his back. His dark eyes pinned the students in place; he glared at them as if they were the lowest of scum and he, a prince among men. He addressed the gathered students as he walked, his voice sharp and commanding as if every word was an order, “Battlemages are those that wield the power of destruction. A competent battlemage can turn the tide of a battle. On the stage of war the enemy has only one desire; your complete and utter annihilation. The only thing standing in the way of that desire is battlemagic.

“Now, some of you may say that a body enhancer of sufficient strength could weather any magical attack launched against them, and while in some cases that is true, in general it is utterly false. The number of body enhancers that can survive the concentrated attacks of a cadre of battlemages is exceedingly rare. Without an active shield spell the natural magical defense offered by body enhancement is simply not enough in the face of overwhelming power.

“For that reason this class shall focus on the utilization of three key spells: Fireball, Force Lance, and Shield. These spells are the bread and butter of a battlemage. They are simple, reliable, and effective. To truly call yourself a battlemage you should be able to cast these spells in an instant without needing to visualise a spellform. This manner of casting is called reflex casting and can only be achieved through endless repetition, to the point that the spellform needed becomes engraved on your very soul. You’ll learn more about this in your other classes. For now, we’ll focus on getting you to be able to cast these spells at all.”

Zim stopped in front of the middle of the line of students. He put his right hand out to the side, and snapped his fingers. A sequence of three glowing red runes manifested in the air above his hand, before sets of identical runes appeared all along the line of students.

“This is the Force Lance spellform. It is perhaps the most simple spell that can be a true asset in battle. Learn it well, and you will have a reliable weapon in any situation.”

He moved behind the suspended runes and pointed to the left most character, “This rune condenses your mana as you channel power into it. The next rune instructs your mana to manifest in the physical world as kinetic force, and finally, the last rune acts as a guide for the condensed force, propelling it outwards from a point in front of the caster’s chest. Modification of this last rune is possible and will serve to change the point of casting.

“Note that there is no rune limiting the amount of mana in the spell. The strength of a Force Lance is limited only by how much mana you can channel into the spell without losing control and causing the spellform to collapse.”

Zim moved a number of steps back from the line of students before stopping and clapping his hands, “Now, the first step is to sense your nexus. Then visualise the spellform in your mind’s eye; for now, use the visual aids I have conjured. Focus on the left-most part of the first rune. Imagine your mana flowing into that first point and expanding out to fill the rune, then repeat that process with the next one, and so on.

“Let’s get to work. I expect to see some successes today. Oh, and do try not to hit each other, or me for that matter.”

Az liked Mr. Zim. There was something to be said for no nonsense efficiency, and some things were best learned by doing. They could study the mechanics of the Force Lance spellform but the best way to do magic was to actually do it.

Az felt nervousness bubble up inside him but he quickly quashed it. This was his first chance to actually do magic, to show that he was every bit as talented as his brother was. He could do this.

He stopped paying attention to the room and people around him, turning his focus inwards, seeking his nexus. The swirling ball of soft blue light dominated his mind’s eye, and he superimposed the three runes of the Force Lance spellform over his mental sight. Az began to guide mana into the runes, tentatively at first, but quickly gaining confidence. It was no different to when he siphoned mana to his body to enforce it; the mechanics were the same really. Once he finished guiding mana into the spellform, he felt an odd sense of readiness from his nexus; the spell was ready to release, awaiting his command. He felt that he could do more though; his mental control wasn’t taxed by the trifle of mana the spell had demanded. Az could handle more.

With an exertion of will, he poured more mana into the spell, the runes accepting the extra power like water vanishing into dry soil. The runes grew brighter in his mental vision, even as the light of his nexus dimmed significantly. More, he could give more.

The last of his mana poured into the spell, and now the gathered power strained against his mental control. Before his will failed, he released the spell.

An explosion of force burst out of him, a shimmering disturbance in the air that lanced outwards like a spear of destruction made manifest. The spell reached Zim’s conjured runes and blasted through them, reducing them to quickly dissipating motes of red light. The disturbance in the air continued for a few more seconds before fading away, its energy spent.

Az’s body sagged as sudden exhaustion swept over him. As he returned to his senses, he became aware that the hall was silent bar a few inaudible whispers. Resisting the urge to collapse on the spot, he looked around. Mr. Zim was walking towards him, no trace of his earlier glare present on his face. No, a smile split his face and there was a crazed glint in his eyes. Az found the expression more disturbing than the glare had been. He realised the other students were staring at him, some leaning over to whisper to each other. Perhaps his Force Lance had been more impressive than some of the other’s first attempts.

“An excellent first effort… Mr… Tantalus, if I’m not mistaken? You share more with your brother than just a name it seems.” Zim still wore that beaming smile, his earlier brusque manner had vanished and he looked at Az like a proud father.

Az mustered up the energy to nod respectfully, “Thank you, sir.”

“Great work, excellent attempt. Why don’t you call it a day for now? You certainly have the basics down and it’ll be another while before most of this sorry lot can produce a Force Lance worth mentioning. We’ll start you on the Fireball spell next class.”

The older mage slapped Az on the back hard enough to knock the air out of him, “Off you go. Can’t have you collapsing from an empty nexus on our first day.”

Az nodded again and began to trudge out of the hall. He was somewhat surprised to see the baleful looks some of the other students in the line gave him as he passed. Clearly they had heard Zim’s comment regarding their efforts. Az shrugged apologetically as he walked past one boy that was staring daggers at him.

He felt a flush of pride and excitement wash over him as he left the other students behind. For the first time, he had tried his hand at real magic and discovered he actually had quite the talent for it. It was a warming feeling to be praised for his own merits rather than having his accomplishments held up next to his brother’s, where they often lost their lustre in comparison.

His nexus was dull in his mind’s eye, near empty, and a throbbing headache had manifested behind his eyes. Az had always halted his experiments with manipulating his mana before his nexus ever was significantly depleted. In theory, draining his nexus would stimulate the growth of his spirit, increasing the capacity of mana his nexus stored and the rate at which it recovered.

A mage’s body continuously drained a miniscule stream of mana as his spirit subconsciously enforced his bodily functions. With such a depleted nexus, Az felt fragile both physically and mentally, not to mention the profound tiredness that had come over him. Still, his spirit was soaring on the day’s accomplishments.

The Magical Theory class had been dull, but it had provided a thorough review of the basics of mana and spirits, much of which Az had forgotten over the years. Battlemagic however, was the sort of class Az had come to the academy for. He had the feeling that after today Mr. Zim would work him hard, squeezing every drop of potential out of him; and truthfully, Az relished the opportunity to really push his limits. He had watched for years as his brother had learned powerful magic at the academy, and Tam had delighted in showing off his magic for his younger brother. Now, it was Az’s time to learn.