Amelia

When Bulak was done explaining to me the various weak points on the body, we decided to head inside. “I have other matters to attend to.” She explained.

I nodded. “I’ll talk to Dexter when I get the chance. Detachment or not, he really needs a friend to talk to.” Bulak nodded as she pulled open the door. Inside, Brokil and Dexter were staring intently at the office chair, which was floating a few feet off the ground. Dexter had one hand pointed squarely at it, stretched in a claw-like fashion.

Brokil walked around the chair as he watched it float. “Keep it steady,” Brokil maintained. Dexter was breathing heavily. He suddenly let out a huge puff of air and the chair dropped to the floor with a clatter. He placed his hands on his knees as he continued to heave. “Impressive.” Brokil suddenly remarked. “You lasted much longer than I anticipated, especially considering the weight of the chair.”

Dexter let out a laugh as he continued to breathe hard. “Human endurance.” He gasped. “I think . . I read somewhere . . those early humans. . used to hunt . . by just following . . our prey for . . hours on end.”

Brokil nodded as he suddenly noticed me and Bulak in the doorway. “I can imagine such a strategy with you outsider.” He remarked. “Not including the pounds for your mana discount, you lasted four times longer than most orc mages would.” Dexter continued to heave as I walked over.

I smiled as he looked up at me, face screaming exhaustion. “Draining, isn't it?” I asked as I stepped beside Dexter.

He nodded as he looked down and continued panting. “And I thought . . I was tired before . . coming in here.” He gasped. “But now it . . feels like I . . ran a mile.”

I grinned as I gently patted him on the back. “I guess we can both do with building up our stamina,” I remarked. Dexter nodded as he slowly caught his breath.

Bulak suddenly spoke from beside the door. “I shall see the two of you tomorrow.” She stated, turning back to the door. I waved goodbye to her as Dexter did the same.

Dexter wiped a veil of sweat from his forehead as he continued to pant. “See . . . you.” He croaked. I turned to Brokil as he walked over to his bag.

He slipped the books back into the satchel as he glanced up at me. “I should have the enchanted item ready by tomorrow.” He stated. “By noon, we shall see just how much mana the both of you have.” I nodded as Dexter finally caught his breath and stood.

He stood and stretched as he let out a long sigh. “I’m good with that.” He confirmed. “We’ll figure out the whole mana pool thing tomorrow. Hopefully, that means I don't have to feel like this too often.” Brokil nodded as he waved goodbye. I turned to Dexter as he strolled over to the spellbook. He didn't say anything as he flipped through the pages.

I hesitated for another moment before probing the question. “Are you doing alright?” I finally asked. Dexter paused, then turned to me seeming confused about the question. “You seem different from yesterday. . . I just want to make sure you're doing okay.”

Dexter let out a low sigh and nodded as he turned back to the book. “I've been stressed out these last few days.” He stated plainly. “I was trying to plan too much at one time; trying to develop a plan for the rite of passage, while simultaneously planning an assault on a city you know nothing about is not a good idea.” His explanation was short and to the point, no dancing around the details. I stared at him, waiting for him to continue, but he didn't.

I let out a sigh as I walked over to him. “I ask . . well . . because I'm worried about you.” I said slowly. Dexter stopped entirely at that and turned to me. His face didn't show any emotions. “I'm worried that you're planning something dangerous. That you're about to do something you might regret, something that might get you killed.” Dexter just stared at me, his mismatched eyes seeming to gauge my own worried expression.

He closed his eyes for a moment as he sighed. “You don't have to be worried.” He finally replied, turning back to the book. “I'm not planning anything stupid like that. I just needed some time to center myself, get my priorities straightened out.” He turned back to the book as he spoke. “If you want a better explanation here it is. Right now, I'm reading through this spellbook for potentially useful spells. If what Brokil said about spell creation is true, then I might be able to use some science to finagle a useful spell. I'll also have to assume Leroy has made a similar spell and devise a countermeasure for it. He's had fifty years to prepare, so I can only assume what he's come up with.”

I stared wide-eyed at Dexter at that last part. “Fifty years?” I practically shouted. Dexter turned towards me suddenly. “Why didn't you tell me he was here fifty years ago?”

Dexter seemed to pause as he considered it. “I guess I neglected to tell you about that.” He replied defensively. He turned back to the book. “But yea, apparently he was here fifty years ago. Which means he's had fifty years to come up with inventions and technology that benefit the elves. So, I'll have to anticipate what he might have built, and develop something against it.” I continued to stare at him as he finished explaining. I let out a sigh and rubbed my head as I gave his words some thought. “He's right about one thing. Leroy's had all this time to create and develop weapons. God only knows what he's come up with. So, why am I still not satisfied with his explanation? It's because you're a psychologist, you can tell when someone isn't telling the full truth. The problem is finding out what parts he's omitting.” I looked back up at Dexter. He continued to flip through the book, ignoring my worried gaze. “Unfortunately, that knowledge is only useful if you know how to coax it out of him. Right now he's not giving up anything. You might as well just move on to helping him.”

I let out a sigh as I walked over to him. “I suppose you're right.” I finally admitted. “It can't hurt to assume he's created something else besides the cannons. The elves are certainly going to benefit from anything he knows. Although their technology prospect is limited by this new timeframe.”

Dexter looked up at me, confused. “How so?” He asked.

I shrugged defensively. “Given that he's from fifty years ago, it's safe to assume his knowledge of modern technology is more limited than ours,” I replied. “He didn't have access to the wealth of knowledge we had with the internet. His knowledge would be limited to what was available at his local library, assuming he went at all. Plus, the historical event of fifty years ago would influence his thought process and priorities.”

Dexter nodded as I spoke. “Good point.” He remarked. “I'll have to take that into consideration.” Again, he turned back to the book. “But for now, you might want to get cleaned up. I doubt just wiping the mud off will be enough to let you sleep comfortably.” I looked down at the shirt I was wearing. It was still coated in a fine layer of dried dirt. I rubbed my fingers together as I realized there were still a few particles stuck to them.

I nodded as I spat another particle from my mouth. “You've got a point there,” I mused thoughtfully, moving towards an open box. “I hope you don't mind me borrowing another change of clothes,” I called out, pulling them from the box.

I saw Dexter wave dismissively. “So long as you eventually help me clean them,” Dexter replied.

I grinned as I strolled towards the door. “I'll see you in a bit, then,” I said, pulling open the door.

I heard Dexter shout a “See you.” as I closed the door and started heading down to the bathhouse.

The bathwater was warm in contrast to the cool winter air. The water rose to just under my chin. I sat there as I contemplated the best course of action. “Dexter's not going to open up to me. So, I'll have to find another way to glean his thought. Maybe if I'm careful, I'll be able to hear what he's saying when he talks to himself. Isn’t it usually more double-sided when people talk to themselves? It sounded pretty one-sided this morning. I don't know. Maybe part of his self-monologue was mental?” My thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a tap on my shoulder. I looked up a little startled as I instinctively moved my arm to cover my chest. I wasn't yet used to the communal bath idea. I was more comfortable with a nice private shower. A female orc was kneeling over me, grinning. Her brown hair dripped slightly from her shoulders and her violet eyes were filled with glee. She was bare-chested like the other orcs in the bath, unconcerned with her own modesty.

She smiled as she saw how startled I was. “Could we perhaps scotch into the bath beside you?” She asked. I thought for a second. “Good source of information. They’re pretty vulnerable here. So am I, but that kind of levels the playing field. Besides, I can’t keep my social circle limited.” I finally nodded timidly as the orc continued to grin. She turned to another group of orcs and waved them over. They seemed to snicker as they walked over. They sat down around me, either sinking into the water beside me or letting their legs hang in the water. I sank down slightly as the crowd around me grew. I could easily handle one-on-one interaction, but crowds made me a bit nervous. My exposed nature, even in a submerged state, didn't help my disposition. It took a minute for their laughs to finally die down.

“So, what is he like? Your warrior friend?” One of them finally asked. The others seemed to giggle and gently slapped her.

I stammered out a response nervously. “W-what?”

They giggled again. “You know what we mean.” Another piped up. “The two of you, alone in that barn. We know how bored you outsiders get.” I blushed and sank down further as I realized what they meant. They started giggling again as they saw my discomfort. “So, what is he like?” The orc asked again. “Is he gentle? Is he rough? Does his size overwhelm you?”

I gulped as I tried to pull my mind away from the double entendre. “I-It's not like that between us. It's nowhere near that.”

The crowd gasped as they heard me. “You mean you have not copulated yet?” One of them asked, surprised. “What did you do when he came home covered in the blood of his victims?”

My stomach churned as I recalled the sight of a blood-soaked Dexter in the doorway. “I did what any sensible person with some knowledge on first-aid would do,” I replied defensively. “I cleaned him off and treated his wounds as best I could. Nothing like that happened between us.”

They groaned as I spoke. “Did you not even consider ‘thanking him'?” Another asked.

I scoffed at the notion. “I was more concerned with keeping him alive than having sex him,” I said indignantly. “Why would I fuck him when he's bleeding out in front of me?”

The group of orcs seemed to consider my words for a minute. “He was bleeding?” One of them finally asked. “Did he not search for a mage to heal his wounds?”

I shook my head. “At that point, he didn't think magic existed,” I replied dismissively. “He walked in the door with a bottle of beer and an explanation on where a spool of string was. I spent the next couple of hours closing his wounds.”

The orcs nodded as they heard my explanation. “But what about after?” One of them asked curiously. I stared at her timidly. “We know he eventually got healed by Garahk, did you do it then?”

I shook my head. They groaned in despair. “We don't have that kind of relationship,” I repeated defensively. “We live in the same building and work together for some things. Most people would call that a roommate, not an actual partner” They all let out a sigh, except for one of them.

She was the one that had initially approached me and was staring at me intently. “So, you are saying he may be available.” She remarked curiously. My eyes went wide as I realized what she was implying.

The other orcs started laughing as the ones around her gently slapped her. “You are such a deviant, Glasha.” One of them piped up. “You were disappointed in missing out on Him so now you want to bed this new outsider.”

I turned to her, shocked. “I thought all the orcs hated him,” I questioned. “You hate him so much you don't even want to say his name.”

She waved me off nonchalantly. “That was after the whole death of the Chieftess.” She replied defensively. “Before that, he was a real charmer. He even bedded a few lucky orcs.” I placed my free hand on my mouth at that statement. The group started giggling again as they saw my distress. “Don't tell me you haven't considered bedding your friend.” The orc continued. “Your heart doesn't race? You're not filled with this warm feeling after hearing how he bested a dozen elves?” I looked away as her words ate at my resolve.

My mind wandered back to that morning Dexter was passed out on the table. I'd done my best to barricade the doors to the barn and had spent most of that morning cowering in a stable. Each noise, each sound, each bump set me on edge and poured adrenaline into my body. When Dexter had finally returned I was filled with relief and quickly rushed to open the door. It was quickly replaced with shock when I saw his mangled and bloody form appear in the doorway. I became repulsed and anxious, working tirelessly on his form and trying to fix what I could. I had to wipe tears from my eyes as I mopped up the blood from his stomach. A whirlwind of emotions ran through me as I did my best to patch and sew Dexter back together. I felt unbelievably relieved when he praised me for my rushed stitch-work. Looking back on it . . I realized I was just scared, scared for his sake. He had risked his life to defend me, risked life and limb for my sake. Here he was just asking for help, asking to be saved as he had saved me, saved me by putting his life on the line. I couldn’t fail him, not when I had done that to him.“No, No, No, that's not what happened. The elves did that to him, not you. You’re not at fault for what happened.” I sank a bit lower as my heart trembled in fear. “You’re not at fault. He doesn’t blame you. He’s just stressed. You can help him, but you need to resolve yourself of blame. I am not to blame.”

I shook my head vigorously as I banished the thoughts from my mind. “We don't have that kind of relationship,” I stated firmly. “We're just friends.” I turned and climbed quickly from the bath, pushing the women aside as I marched back to the changing room. Dexter needed my help, and I couldn’t afford to let anything distract me or him from our mental health. “Something is wrong with him, I can feel it. And Dexter isn't going to get better if you can’t get over your own guilt. He needs psychological help.”

When I got into my change of clothes I ran as quickly as I could back to the barn. It was starting to get dark and I didn't want to get distracted again. “If I'm careful I might be able to glean something from his self-monologues. I just have to be quiet.” I got back to the barn and pulled open the door. Dexter was still standing over the book, reading intently. I closed the door as he voiced a monotone “Hello.” towards me.

I tossed the clothes onto a chair as I walked over. “Did you find something useful?”

Dexter shook his head, keeping his eyes on the book. “Not yet.” He replied. “I'm still trying to figure out how the mana delivers the energy to some of these spells. If I can figure that out a bit more I might be able to come up with something. Right now, it's all just me figuring out their rules.”

I nodded at the explanation. I rubbed my arm as my mind threatened to wander back into that fantasy. “He needs a psychologist.” I reminded myself. “I think I'm going to turn in early,” I stated firmly.

Dexter didn't look up as he nodded. “Alright.” He replied. “I'll try to be quiet.” I stood there for a minute, waiting for him to say something else, but he didn't continue. I let out a sigh as I moved to the stall. “Just rub one out.”

I was back home, lying in bed, comfortable and warm. The covers wrapped me in a soft and warm embrace. I opened my eyes to the pristine extravagance of a pale white room. The linens, the walls, even the curtains were a clean comforting white. I suddenly felt movement to my side and I turned to identify it. It was Dexter's exposed form, calm and comforting. He turned to me with a grin. “Ready for round two?” He asked sensually.

I grinned alongside him as my mind wandered back to our latest encounter. “You know it, baby,” I replied sexily. Dexter grinned as he leaned in close and pulled me into a tender kiss. His warm lips enveloped mine and his tongue gently prodded, encouraging me to allow him entrance. I obliged and responded in kind, breathing increasing as his sparse beard gently scratched my chin. He seemed to grow impatient and moved to nuzzle my neck, sending a chill down my spine with every kiss he planted there. I felt his strong hands making their way up my front, approaching my breasts. I let out a moan as he squeezed them firmly. He let his fingers wander towards my nipples and twisted gently. My heart continued to race as I reached down and firmly grasped his shaft. I faltered as Dexter suddenly spoke.

“I did better today than you've been doing all week.” He stated, a little angrily. I paused as I tried to give context to the statement. I pushed him up so that I could look at him. I now noticed the room was slowly changing from a bright white to a dark red.

I felt my lips tremble as I tried to rationalize his words. “W-what do you mean?” I asked worriedly. Dexter didn't say anything for a minute. So, I tried again. “What do you mean b-” I started, but Dexter interrupted.

His expression grew sour as he spoke and began to scowl at me. “As if you improved at all when you trained with Bulak.” He hissed. His lips formed the words a second after I heard them.

I pushed him off me as the dark red walls started to drip. “W-what are you talking about?” I asked, a little panicked. I felt my body trembling slightly from fear. “I've learned plenty. J-just today I learned abo-”

“Don't blame that on me.” He hissed, interrupting my pleas. “I was trying to help. You just refuse to listen to anyone but yourself.”

I shook my head as realization dawned on me. “This isn't right,” I said weakly. “You're not stable. You need help.” The floor of the room started to fill with a thick dark red liquid. I clamped my hands over my ears and squeezed my eyes shut as I tried to make sense of everything.

Dexter continued to growl as I tried to calm my mind. “You're too impulsive to be trusted with anything,” Dexter muttered, his voice invading my thoughts. “You can't even focus enough to cast a spell.” My eyes shot open as I realized what was happening. I was no longer lying in my bed at home, safe and sound. Instead, I was laying on the sack of hay I was using as a mattress, Dexter's blankets shielding me from the cold winter air. I laid perfectly still as I strained my ears to hear more of Dexter's monologue. “I, on the other hand, had enough sense to know how to stabilize the irregularities and produce a steady spell. . . . Don't use that excuse again. The only one getting in your way is yourself. Not Amelia, not Bulak, and definitely not-” I moved slightly, trying to hear him clearly. Dexter suddenly stopped talking. I could sense him on the other side of the car, frozen in place. I suddenly heard movement and I let my body fall limp to the bed, eyes closing shut. I slowed my breathing and laid there, as still as possible, while I felt his gaze directed at me. I waited for what felt like an hour while my heart pounded in sharp contrast to my slow breaths. I finally heard Dexter move away and resume speaking. I strained my ears to hear. “She seemed pretty drained today, we should call it quits too. . . . We can continue working on spells later, for now, we need rest. . . and a way to fix that damned plural.” I laid there as I heard Dexter climb into the loft and hoist himself into his hammock. I didn't dare move, for fear of him hearing me. Instead, I tried to rationalize his series of statements. “Why's he referring to himself in the plural? He seems fully aware of the fact and legitimately annoyed by the phenomenon. Is this some sort of bleed over from his concussion? That sounds pretty rare, what would the chance of the happening be? Do you really want to go over statistics after you were whisked away from home by a green storm? What exactly are the odds of that happening? . . Fair enough.” I laid there as my heart finally slowed and I could finally think about getting back to sleep. “All's not well in Snakhagr.” was my final thought before drifting back to sleep.

I was the first one to wake up this time. I stretched as I pulled the covers off me and lowered my feet to the floor. “Never thought I'd get used to waking up wearing a guy's shirt.” I thought as I reached for the shirt I'd removed last night to sleep. “The boxers on the other hand. . . It's weird to have so much unnecessary room. . . Though, on Dexter, the room is far from unnecessary.” I pulled the shorts up as I yawned and walked over to the table, expecting Dexter to be standing there. Instead, I saw the spell book open to the entry on Impact. “This one seems kind of useful. Though, it's a little too ‘in your face' for my comfort. It says here the spell needs to make contact with a surface to actually cast. No Impact from a safe distance.” I flipped through the book as I tried to find the basic barrier. The spellbook Brokil had pulled it from seemed more focused on combat spells than the all-around broad stroke this spell book was. I finally found it and began reading.

Dexter woke up what must have been an hour later. “I really need my own way to tell time. . . Maybe I can talk to Urog about that. I think I know enough for her to build something useful.” I'd practiced the barrier enough to considerably reduce the steps I needed to cast it. Dexter voiced a “Good morning.” as he climbed down the ladder. “Did you sleep well?” He asked in his now default monotone voice.

I nodded in response. “Like a log,” I replied, letting my latest barrier dissipate. “And you?”

Dexter just shrugged as he walked over. “A little sleepless.” He replied. “I spent too long planning for the rite.” This time his excuse sounded rehearsed. I paused as I considered pressing him but decided against it. “He needs time . . . Maybe after the funeral. . . But for right now he needs time.” I turned back to practicing the spell. Dexter stepped next to me as he joined my practice session.

Brokil arrived first again, this time he carried a large staff as he walked in the door. “This should allow us to gauge your mana pool.” He said, setting his bag down and waving the staff. It was topped with a large blue crystal, clutching it like a claw. He waved me over as he explained how it worked. “I apply a small amount of mana and it uses that to compare the mana within you.” He pointed the crystal at me. “I have modified it to display above the crystal as opposed to within it. That should ensure that I'm able to correctly read the display it creates.” He looked up at me as he widened his stance. “Ready?” He asked. I shifted slightly as I nodded. He nodded in response and turned back to the crystal. He adjusted his grip and suddenly seemed to focus on the blue gemstone. It glowed briefly, and a small black cloud appeared above it. I waited for Brokil to say something, but he just frowned at the cloud. “Odd.” He stated.

I looked up at him. “What?” I asked.

Brokil waved at the cloud. “It should be displaying something.” He replied. “A set of numerals representative of your mana pool, but . . . there is nothing.” I turned back to the staff as Brokil set it on the table and pulled an old book out of his bag. The cloud dissipated. “I am certain I ingrained enchantment correctly.” He growled, flipping through the pages. “I even tested it on fellow mages at the Institute. It worked perfectly on them. Is there a difference if used on an outsider?” I looked over his shoulder at the page he was reading. It was a detailed description of the enchantment, but I couldn't make heads or tails of it. I noticed Dexter approaching the staff on the table. I turned to him as he picked it up and pointed it at us.

His brow furrowed briefly as he looked at the gemstone. “You just give it some mana?” Dexter asked. Brokil nodded, not looking up from his notes. Dexter turned back to the crystal and pointed it at Brokil. He seemed to focus on it as a cloud materialized above the crystal. A series of white Orcish numerals appeared in the cloud, I can only assume quantifying Brokil's mana pool. Dexter then pointed the staff at me and the symbols vanished. He switched the direction between the two of us as he seemed to think deeply. “What if it’s working fine.” He suddenly asked, pointing the staff back at me. “I can see your mana. I don't see why it's not representing Amelia's.”

Brokil shook his head insistently as he looked up from his notes. “It is meant to display the numerical representation of mana, but it appears to be failing.” Brokil insisted, looking down at his notes again. Dexter seemed to consider for a minute.

“What if it is the right representation?” He asked calmly. Brokil turned to stare at him.

“What do you mean?” He asked.

Dexter shrugged, placing the butt of the staff on the ground. “How do you guys represent zero?” He asked. “What do you do when you want to say you have nothing of something?”

Brokil seemed to consider for a moment. “We would leave the column blank or indicate it with words,” Brokil replied. “But what does that have to do with this?”

Dexter turned to the gemstone now by his head. “What if this is the blank column?” He asked, looking back at Brokil. Brokil tilted his head as he considered Dexter's words.

I turned to Dexter, justifiably concerned. “Are you saying I have no mana?” I asked.

Dexter shrugged, letting the staff rest on his shoulder. “It might be possible.” He replied, scratching his head. “We have no idea how magic works. There might be a reason our world hasn’t discovered it.”

He turned back to Brokil, expectantly. Brokil stayed silent for a moment as he face twisted in thought. “I have not heard of such a phenomenon.” He replied curiously. “I have heard of people with large amounts of mana, with little ability to wield it. But, I have yet to hear of a mage with your level of skill that does not have the mana to wield it.”

Dexter seemed to consider a moment, then flipped the staff around, presenting the handle to Brokil. “There's a first time for everything.” He stated unusually calmly. Brokil looked at the handle hesitantly, then reach out and took it. Dexter took a step back as Brokil widened his stance again and pointed the staff at him. The cloud materialized above the crystal and remained void of symbols. Dexter tilted his head slightly as he stared at the cloud. “Interesting.”

Brokil lifted the staff up and rubbed his head with his hand. “This is unheard of.” He repeated. “Does this extend to all outsiders? How can an entire people have no measurable mana yet produce those that wield such monumental skill in the mystic arts.” I looked away as I considered the implications. “No mana means I'll need to draw from my stamina to cast powerful spells. Or, I find a way to squeeze the efficiency out of what I have. Either way, the reasons to build up my stamina just skyrocketed.”

Dexter's voice interrupted my line of thought. “It doesn't matter how.” He stated, rubbing his temple softly. “All that matters is what we do with this new information.”

I turned to him, confused at his reaction, or lack thereof. “You're not the least bit upset at this?” I asked.

Dexter just shrugged. His face remained emotionless as he spoke. “I'm fucking pissed at it, but that doesn't change the facts of the matter.” He replied. “All we can do is work with what we have.”

Brokil seemed to nod at the statement. “I suppose you have a point there.” He confirmed. “This matter may be out of our control. The best that can be done is to work with it.” Dexter nodded as he gestured at Brokil.

“Exactly.” He said. “No point getting worked up about something we can't control. Now let's get back to work.” I stared at him as I considered who he meant when he said ‘we'.

Bulak showed up about two hours later. She knocked firmly on the door as I finally mastered casting the barrier in a single step. Dexter moved to answer the door. “Let's get started.” He said, wasting no time with banter as he pulled open the door and stepped out. I turned to Brokil.

“Is Dexter acting strange to you?” I asked.

Brokil seemed to consider for a moment, then shrugged. “Not more unusual than I have experienced..” He replied. “Though, he was stone still yesterday when I was explaining how to draw from his stamina pool. I thought he'd somehow fallen asleep. He didn't move until I looked at him quizzically. And even then, it was only his head and arm to give me confirmation of his attention.” I rubbed my temple at that statement. “That's definitely out of character. He couldn't even sit still for half a minute when he was sorting through the book. It was always a rhythmic tapping with his fingers or strolling around the table as he sorted the books into piles.” Brokil's voice interrupted my thoughts. “But he was highly receptive of my instructions.” He said. “He caught on almost immediately.” I nodded at Brokil's statement. “That's the only positive aspect to come out of this. . . Why am I so worried? . . . Because you know that when things start to point to something sinister they don't just vanish on their own.”

I rubbed my head as I resigned to waiting for more details. “Let's just resume practicing,” I said begrudgingly.

Brokil nodded as he motioned me to follow him outside. “Given this new development, I am inclined to bring you some mana stones.” He said, pulling open the door.

I looked at him curiously. “Mana stones?” I asked.

Brokil nodded, turning to me as he stood in the doorway. “Stones that are enchanted to store mana.” He explained. “Mages use them to flesh out their spells if they ever run low on personal mana. Given that you and Dexter have none, I feel you shall need to rely on them to cast more powerful spells.” I nodded at the explanation as I followed him outside. I closed the door behind me and saw Dexter and Bulak sparring. I could see what Bulak meant by the unnatural movements. Dexter's actions were almost robotic, like a video game character that had limited animations. I watched as he deflected some strikes from Bulak and returned some of his own. Bulak eventually got the upper hand and landed a strike. Almost immediately Dexter's stance fell away as he panted hard. From where I was, it seemed like Bulak was explaining a defensive technique. After a minute Dexter nodded and returned to his original stance. “That's a lot less fluid than what he was initially doing. It's like he's putting careful thought into each movement.” I turned back to Brokil as I continued to follow him a short ways away. “We shall continue practicing your barrier spell,” Brokil said, turning to me. “This time I intend to show you what occurs when this barrier spell is broken.” I nodded as I took my position opposite him and began to cast the spell. “It still blows my mind that shit like this exists. How have humans not found this out? . . . Well, it seems like we're incapable of storing mana. It's pretty hard to develop something when you don't have the resources to develop it. . . Fair enough.” I turned my attention to Brokil as the barrier materialized in front of me.

Brokil widened his stance and stared at me. He waited for a moment as he appeared to prepare himself for the spell. Suddenly, Brokil thrust his hand forward and a large stream of water came barreling towards me. It hit my barrier and caused a rumble to permeate the field, cracking it. I let in a small gasp as I felt something try and break my concentration, but I refused. I forced my mind to maintain the spell as the stream slowly died and I could see Brokil again. “Holy shit.” I gasped. “I did not expect that.”

Brokil grinned as he straightened and saw my barrier. “I'm impressed. You managed to maintain the spell.” He remarked. “Most mages would have lost it on the initial impact.”

I nodded, rubbing my head. “It felt like something was trying to pull my attention away,” I replied. “Like a sudden bout of ADHD.”

Brokil tilted his head as he looked at me quizzically. “What manner of ailment is that?” He asked.

I considered for a moment then shrugged. “A disorder categorized by an inability to maintain focus on a single task, hyperactivity, or a general lack of impulse control,” I replied. It was a boring but concise explanation of the condition, something I probably studied countless times over.

Brokil just continued to stare at me. “I am uncertain of what that would imply.” He prodded. “But if you were able to maintain concentration enough to defend against that spell, then I suggest we practice your ability to maintain a spell under stress.”

I nodded as I rubbed my head again. “I guess that's the best course of action,” I replied. “If Dexter follows through with his promise, I can only imagine how many times I'll have to use it.” Brokil nodded as he widened his stance. I prepared for his next strike as a thought ran through my mind. “I just hope he won't try and go overboard, not before I figure out what's wrong with him.”