Chapter 12

“It is good to celebrate your victories, for those who do not celebrate are with the Enemy. And those who are with the Enemy are all of them dead.”

The Guardian’s Instructions, penned by Rigel Knotsworth, year 1002

Carvings

"So, you’ve survived the training so far,” Silas said.

Oliver frowned and nodded as he entered the Mages Lodge, still twirling the wand slowly around his fingers. He seemed to be getting worse as time went on, dropping it more and more.

“Give your wand-twirling a rest,” Silas said, reading his thoughts. “Your body can only handle so much at once. If you keep practicing without stopping, you’ll be too sore to do it right, and then you’ll form a bad habit of doing it wrong. Take a seat.”

Taking a relieved breath, Oliver placed the wand in the extinguished bin and sat on a wooden chair at a small, wooden table, his muscles aching as he did so. The sun had set, and the room was lit with candles that seemed too—those aren’t candles, he realized. In place of candles were thick logs that were Casting magical light toward the ceiling.

He returned his attention back to Silas who stood next to a dirty chalkboard. He and Ilan were the same height, both muscular, both fit, but Silas seemed to fill more space. Not because of his mass, but something about his additional age, experience, wisdom, and just the way he stood, made him seem as broad as a lone mountain.

Silas pulled out a chalkboard and began to write on it. “While your body is healing,” he said while writing, “let’s train your head.”

“Okay,” Oliver mumbled. “What’s that?” He pointed at what Silas had etched on the chalkboard. At first, it looked like a child’s doodling, but then it began to make recognizable shapes: an infinity sign with a vertical line down the middle. Silas added a couple numbers and arrows near the shapes.

“This,” Silas said, dusting off his hands, “is the Carving for oak.”

Oliver squinted, trying to make sense of the drawing. “It looks like a butterfly.”

Silas gave Oliver a flat stare. “No. It’s a Carving.” He grabbed a brown wand from off a large rack connected to the wall, labeled oak, and he began to twirl it slowly. “A Carving is what we call the routine you need to perform in order to Cast a wood’s magic. For Oak, it’s two figure eights, and then two vertical spins away from you.” Oliver recognized Silas twirl the wand in the same pattern of twirls Ilan had him do earlier. “Can you see how the drawing matches the routine?”

Oliver tilted his head. He didn’t see it at first, but then he caught the similarities. What Oliver thought were butterfly wings was a figure eight, and its body represented a vertical spin.

“Oh, I see it!” Oliver said. “The arrows tell you which direction to twirl it, right?”

“Right,” Silas said. “But the numbers are a little trickier.”

“The first number tells you the order to do the different twirls and the second tells you how many times to do that specific twirl.” He paused after Silas didn’t respond. “Right?”

“Right.” Silas eyed Oliver curiously. “Now watch me do it with the wand. This time I will actually Cast light by beginning and ending the routine in Casting position.” He held the wand in front of him with its tip vertical.

Silas twirled the wand slowly for Oliver to observe, and when he finished the routine, the tip of the oak wand emitted a bright light. Without fail, Oliver got goosebumps as he witnessed magic once again, but it didn’t last as long as before.

Silas pointed at the drawing on the chalkboard. “Having the routine—or the Carving—drawn out like this makes it much easier to memorize all the different Carvings for all the distinct types of wood. There are twelve different wood types we know of that Cast magic. Here, this will give you an idea of what you’ll need to memorize.”

Silas grabbed a bundle of three scrolls off of a shelf and handed it to Oliver, who untied one, unrolled it across the table, and whistled softly as it spread a little beyond the table’s end. The scroll was beige with blackened words, numbers, designs, and symbols etched all over it. “I’ve got to memorize all this?” Oliver asked.

“Not all,” Silas said. “The top half is what you’ll need to focus on. It deals with Casting magic. It’s for mages-in-training, like you. The bottom half is for carpenters. It explains how to make each magical weapon.”

That was comforting news because the bottom half seemed to have more detailed information than the top. Silas pointed at the scroll’s title. “This scroll contains everything you need to know about the three Wand Woods: oak, elm, and maple. On the left of the scroll are the three wood types, in the middle are the types of magic they each Cast, and on the right are their respective Carvings. Below each wood type is a detailed explanation of how to properly use each wood type, how long they last, and other specifics about them.”

A quick look was all Oliver needed to feel overwhelmed. The Carving for elm had too many circles and numbers for Oliver to make sense of. “Wow… I’ve got a lot to learn.”

“Yes, you do.” Silas put the oak wand—which had stopped glowing—in a recycling basket. “Maybe now you’ll understand why this is called the School of Magery. It takes an educated mind to memorize all this, no less put it into practice.”

“This is incredible.” Oliver still poured over the scroll, admiring the detail put into it. “I wish we had a copy of this in 4027. Who wrote it?

Silas hesitated to answer, but eventually said, “It’s a copy of the original Scrolls of Magic, written two thousand years ago.”

“And who wrote the originals?”

Silas eyed Oliver carefully. “Well… the Guardian of Magic did.”

An awkward silence fell between them.

Oliver gazed back at the scroll, grasping the gravity of his words. “So, you think I wrote this? Two thousand years ago?”

“Some do….” Silas folded his arms, frowning.

Oliver was grateful he didn’t have to argue the matter with his coach; they both knew he was no guardian. Regardless, the scroll impressed Oliver. Could I have written this? he thought. How? It looked far more elegant than his own handwriting. Then again… it was only a copy. “Do you have the original?” he asked.

“No,” Silas said. “Only copies remain.” He cleared his throat. “Time for a demonstration.”

He went to a rack that ran along the lodge’s wall—which held dozens of wooden weapons, each labeled with their specific wood type—and he grabbed a handful of them and laid them on the floor before Oliver. Silas didn’t smile as he walked—or ever, really—but Oliver could sense the mage’s enthusiasm as he quickened his pace and spoke with more animation.

“Out of the twelve known magical woods, we have only six here,” Silas explained. “First are the three Wand Woods in the scroll you’ve opened: oak, maple, and elm. You’ve already seen oak, but not the other two. Let me show you maple.”

Silas picked up a light brown wand off the table and faced Oliver. He twirled the wand around his fingers with amazing speed and ease. When he finished the Carving, the entire wand began to pulse slowly, humming with a soft vibration, as if it had its own magical heartbeat.

“Now hold still,” Silas said. “This may feel… strange.” He slowly touched the wand’s tip to Oliver’s arm, to which he recoiled immediately. It felt like a bee sting, but in an instant, the pain disappeared and transformed into a warmth that spread quickly through his entire body. The heat vibrated through him to the same rhythm of the wand, which was no longer glowing. The heat intensified around his hands and other muscles, feeling slightly uncomfortable for a couple of seconds, and then the feeling disappeared.

With wide eyes, he raised his hands and stretched his fingers. They weren’t tired anymore! He stood up slowly, expecting his muscles to be sore, but they weren’t. His aches, pains, and bruises had vanished! He felt one hundred percent healthy, even completely rested! Oliver looked up at Silas, “That was… amazing!”

Silas actually smiled, though it was a half-smile. “As long as a person’s heart is beating, maple can heal them to perfect health. It’s remarkable magic, certainly, but it does come with its own costs and dangers.”

“Dangers?” Oliver bounced on his toes, feeling great. “How could this be dangerous?”

“Read this.” Silas pointed at a paragraph on the scroll just below the Carving for maple.

When the magic within maple wood Casts, it transfers its own life force into the recipient, ending its life consequently. To the recipient, this action can heal wounds and rejuvenate the body, mind, and soul. While this is often advantageous for obvious reasons, one must be cautious not to overindulge in its magic. An unhealthy dependency on it may occur.

Oliver looked up. “It’s addictive?”

“Extremely. Some people Cast maple’s magic on themselves even when they’re healthy, which creates a euphoric high, and then leads to a deep decline in energy over time.”

“A magical drug….”

“Make sure you use maple only when you truly need it. Most mages carry a maple wand with them just in case of emergency. You can use its magic on yourself, but it may be difficult or impossible to perform its carving when injured. That’s why maple is usually Cast on someone else.”

“Does it work even if you’re sick?”

“Yes.”

Oliver looked back at his unwearied hands. “Wow.”

Silas threw the maple wand in the extinguished bin and picked up another. “This is elm.” He twirled the yellowish-brown wand around his fingers, doing more spins than before. Oliver glanced between Silas and the scroll to try to understand the Carving, but he twirled it too fast for Oliver to follow. When Silas finished, a beam of red light shot out of the wand, and then it stopped midair.

It… stopped.

Oliver shook his head, blinking, not quite sure what he was seeing. It was as if a… long, red, translucent chimney brush grew out of the wand. It was the same shape as a chimney brush, except for the top. In place of several dozen wire bristles, the circular top was flat and smooth.

“What you’re seeing is not a trick of the eyes,” Silas said as he moved the wand from Casting position to a horizontal position. The red pole and circular top moved perfectly with the wand’s tip. “Elm Casts a magical extension. Or a shield, if you wish. We call it both. The magic extends directly out of the tip and creates a wide shield at the end which is great for defending and even attacking. Here, feel it.”

He handed the wand over to Oliver, and he was immediately surprised by how light it was, much lighter than a chimney brush would be. He reached out to touch the six-foot extension and was amazed to feel substance. It looked like it was made with glass with a soft, red hue, but it felt as hard as wood. The shield at the end—which had about a 3-foot diameter—was lit with bright, magical veins that webbed along its surface.

Oliver waved the wand a couple of times. “It’s so light,” he said. “It looks like something this long should weigh more and should bend when I wave it around like this.”

“It’s magic,” Silas said as if that was answer enough… and… it was. “Try hitting that beam over there.”

Oliver did as instructed, approaching the thick, wooden beam that stretched from floor to ceiling, and swung the elm wand at it. The extension hit the beam with a soft whack, not even causing a dent in the wood.

“That’s why elm is mostly used as a shield,” Silas said. “The entire extension weighs only as much as the weapon you hold; in this case, that little wand. So, if you were to hit an attacker with this, it would feel like getting hit by this wand. But when it comes to blocking magical attacks, it becomes very useful; you’ll see.”

Oliver gave the elm wand back to Silas, who threw it in the extinguished bin before it was fully extinguished. That’s right, Oliver thought. You can only use it once. There’s got to be a way around that…

Silas clapped his hands together. “And those are the three Wand Woods. They’re called that because we mostly use them in wands. However, you can use them in other weapons as well. For example, watch me Cast oak with a staff.”

The General began to twirl a man-sized staff in the same Carving as he had with the wand. There was a clear difference in how it was performed, but it was still the same movements: two figure eights and two vertical spins away from oneself. With the wand, Silas had done the vertical spins directly in front of him, but with the staff, he had to do them at his side, so he wouldn’t hit himself. At the end of the routine, Silas hoisted the staff vertically, and a brilliant, white light appeared at its tip.

“Wow…” Oliver said, gaping and squinting at the light. “It’s so much brighter than it was with the wand.” He noticed, however, that it wasn’t as bright as the light emitting from the magical logs placed around the room.

Silas nodded. “Here’s the rule: the more wood there is, the more magic available. A staff will Cast light brighter and longer than a wand, and a log will Cast it brighter and longer than a staff. When I Cast elm with a staff, the extension is about twice as long and twice as wide. A log obviously has more magic, but it is rotten difficult to twirl. This is why staves are the weapon of choice for most mages. Let me show you another.” Silas put the staff in the extinguished bin even though it was still emitting light.

Oliver frowned. “So, once you use a staff’s magic, it’s useless?”

“Not completely. If you’re in battle and don’t have access to another staff, then you can use it as a basic melee weapon. Hence the strenuous training with Ashley earlier. Most staves and wands for mages come standard with a bladed tip.”

“Yeah, I got a close-up view on that.”

Silas gave a knowing smirk and continued. “Even if the staff breaks, the wood is not useless. It can be used for carpentry of all sorts. The large wagon outside will haul all of the extinguished wood to be delivered to carpenters across the city.”

“Interesting. Wood is still valuable even after its magic is spent.” Out of habit, Oliver noted that fact as later ammunition for the Lumber Debate, but then remembered the debate was in a different time, a different world.

“Open up the second scroll,” Silas instructed. “This one is about the three Staff Woods: yew, ash, and willow.”

Oliver did, laying it on top of the Wand Woods scroll. It looked just as overwhelming to read as the one below. “Yew is water,” Oliver read. “Ash is fire. And willow is wind.” He looked up. “I think you showed me these three this morning in the woods.”

“That’s right.” Silas grabbed a bow and arrow and held the arrow as if it were a wand. “They’re called Staff Woods because they’re usually Cast with a staff, but not always. For example…”

He twirled the arrow around his fingers in a Carving that seemed similar to oak, but with many more spins. When he finished, the arrowhead burst into flame. He notched the arrow in the bow, pulled back, and let it fly across the lodge.

The arrow remained aflame as it soared through the air, but its light disappeared when it embedded itself in the bullseye of a target standing near the far wall.

Oliver whistled softly. “Nice shot.”

Silas shrugged as if bullseyes were as common to him as dandelions in a meadow.

A second later, the straw target caught fire, small flames burning from the bullseye out. Tendrils of smoke started to collect near the ceiling.

Silas picked up a staff and signaled Oliver to follow him toward the burning target. “You saw me do this last time, but now let me explain it.” He twirled the staff around his body in a blur of motion. When he stopped, a fountain of water began spewing slowly out of its tip, spilling all over the floor. “Whenever you Cast water or fire,” he said, “you need to also Cast wind. It will push the water or fire in the direction you want it to go. You have to have a staff like this one that has two wood types combined. Watch.”

He began twirling his staff around again, in a new routine. Water was flung in every direction, soaking the lodge, some of it getting on Oliver. He was too entranced to mind getting a little wet.

When Silas stopped, a gust of wind shot out of the staff’s tip, which pushed a torrent of water upward. Silas quickly pointed the staff at the burning target and drenched it in a matter of seconds. When he was done putting the fire out, he took the staff outside and shot water onto the grass until the staff’s magic extinguished.

“That took longer to extinguish than a wand,” Oliver noted out loud. “Is that just because the staff is bigger than the wand?”

“That and because certain woods take longer to burn than other woods,” Silas said. “Even though a maple staff is larger than an oak wand, it extinguishes in a matter of seconds while the oak wand takes minutes. Maple’s magic extinguishes immediately, no matter how much wood there is, but a maple wand can heal minor wounds while a maple staff is required for major wounds. Now, watch this.”

He picked up a long log from off the table. It was roughly as tall as Silas, wide enough that his fingers didn’t touch when he held it, and its bark had been removed. “Logs are difficult to handle, so they are rarely used for close combat.” He slowly spun the heavy log with both hands, grunting with effort. He had to expertly maneuver his body as he twirled the log so that he achieved complete vertical and horizontal spins. When he returned the log to Casting position, a beam of bright light shot out of its tip, causing Oliver to squint.

“However,” Silas said, “logs are the most powerful and last the longest. This light will last through most of the night.” He walked over to the wall and placed the log on a ledge next to the other logs that Cast their magical light on the ceiling to illuminate the room. “Logs and arrows are mostly used in major battles by ranks of soldiers who can memorize one or two Carvings. You won’t need to bother practicing with them yet.”

Oliver nodded, taking it all in.

“Logs and staves cast for more time because they take longer to burn,” Silas said. “Can you see it burn?” He pointed at one end of the log.

Oliver narrowed his eyes, confused. The log cast a magical light above its tip, but it was clearly not on fire. Then… he saw it. Right where Silas was pointing was a subtle change of color in the wood. A discoloration crept down the log from brown to slightly less brown and a little gray. “What is that?” Oliver asked.

“It’s the magic burning out of the oak. It’s easiest to see in logs because they’re so big, but you can see it in every wooden weapon with enough practice.”

“It looks like… it’s fading.”

“It’s dying. After a tree is cut, the wood can survive for a few days to a week, depending on its type. You see, only living wood—greenwood—can cast magic. Once the magic is cast, the wood dries up and can be used as a melee weapon, carpentry, or firewood.”

Oliver nodded, absorbing the information. “So, all of these staves and wands on these racks were recently cut?”

“Right, and even if we don’t get around to using them all for magic, they won’t be wasted, just recycled.”

“That’s amazing.” Oliver thought for a moment. “So, if I were weaponless in the forest, could I break a branch off a tree and use its magic?”

“No. It’s more complicated than that.”

“I figured it would be. Otherwise, people in my time would’ve stumbled onto magic long ago.”

Silas nodded. “We only know how to use magic because the Guardian of Magic taught our first ancestors in the year 1000. Without him, we may never have learned it; it’s far too complicated to stumble upon.”

“So how does it work?”

Silas scratched his beard and pointed to the scrolls on the table. “It’s all detailed here on the rest of the scroll, but I think it’ll be best if I show you. Come with me.” Silas left the lodge at his typical fast pace. Oliver had to jog to catch up.