Chapter 1

Ashur PoV

Crossing through a vestibule, a five-year-old boy squirmed nervously in a thick, padded chair beside his father. Stained shirts over burlap trousers made him feel out of place in the immaculate tower. They had been waiting for hours in a foyer, waiting to meet one of the towers illustrious occupants. His father sat in the chair next to him, at stayed unusually quiet as he gazed silently at the heavy, black stone walls. Intricate designs carved into them told a story he didn’t know. A knight, a giant, a minotaur, and a mage were all laid out like constellations at war. Only you couldn’t tell who was fighting whom.

High above their heads, iron lighting fixtures supported a glowing blue flame brighter than anything he’d seen. Ashur was told they were enchanted lights. Not uncommon, but more expensive than anything the either had ever laid eyes upon. The lights had to be recharged regularly, which required the talents of a mage, and those kinds of talents didn’t come cheap. Hundreds of these lights ran along the tops of the angled walls of the Mage’s Guild, a clear testament to the source of the magic items.

“I wonder if I’ll be able to make some of those for my room,” Ashur thought to himself.

He wanted to go inspect them, but he knew this was no place to play around. Adrian had told him that a wrong look or misspoken word at the guild could land them both in dire straits. Those inside were either men of nobility or fierce battle mages, neither of which should be offended at any cost.

The Mage’s Guild was home to most the magic users in the kingdom. Inherent magic usually followed bloodlines, giving every child of a mage had a very strong chance of inheriting the gift. It was rarer to have a mage born amongst the general population but not unheard of. The odds were stacked against it though, with only one out of every five hundred commoners being born with the ability.

Being blessed with an inherent mana pool wasn’t enough though, you needed to be able to use it. The only way to do that was through spells, and that knowledge was tightly horded by the guild, which in turn gave them control over most of the kingdom’s magic. Although there were other groups amongst the kingdom that were trained to manipulate other forms of mana, and there was actually a royal academy for casters like wizards, the Mage’s Guild was the largest by far.

A gangly, pimply-faced apprentice wearing a long, blue robe approached the pair sitting on the bench.

“Follow me,” the apprentice barked, his voice cracking awkwardly. He hurried off without a care, not glancing once to see if he was being followed, and leaving Ashur and his father scrambling to catch up.

The apprentice led the pair through winding passageways adorned with beautiful murals and lit with more enchanted lights. The narrow hallways smelled of juniper, which his father said reminded him of own mother, and put them both more at ease. Not sure if it was an enchantment or coincidence, the two did not investigate the source and hurried to keep up.

The group came to a small room containing an ornate glass table and three chairs. The boy hadn’t seen a piece of furniture yet that he wanted to touch. He was afraid that even his presence alone would mar their beauty. An unimaginable battle scene was etched into the tabletop. The minotaur from the foyer held a war axe, facing off against a small army of dwarves. Above the army was what looked like a grand wizard, staff in hand. A wave of lightning shot forth from the wizard towards the horde. Ashur couldn’t tell if the wizard was fighting with or against the Dwarves, but he was too nervous to risk asking the story. He just filed the sight away in his mind, another wonder of the guild.

The apprentice mage pointed toward the three chairs, “M’lord will be here shortly,” and promptly left the room.

“Da, why are we here?” the boy’s mousy voice broke the silence that was stagnating in the room.

“Ashur, just as I told you on the King’s Road, you’re to be tested today,” his father whispered.

Ashur was a tiny lad. At five years and nine months he’d pass for a child two thirds his age. Tussled sandy brown hair sat atop his head. His skin was already tanned from playing outdoors; a telling indicator of his family’s place in society. He was not underfed but was already developing a lean, sinewy look that matched his father’s. Even on a cobbler’s wages, there had been some hard times in the city, and food was scarce.

“Do you really think I can be a mage, Da?” Ashur asked.

“That’s what we’re here to find out. Now stand still and be quiet. You need to make a good impression in front of this wizard, er, mage, or whatever he is,” the man sighed.

The broad oak double doors burst apart as if a gust of wind had thrown them open. A tall, painfully thin man entered the room with a flare. His black robe was so dark it seemed never ending, like a moonless winter night. Gold runes were embroidered up the robe’s sleeves, and a multicolored glyph that Ashur had never seen before covered the mage’s heart.

“State your names,” the mage sighed as he sat down.

“I am Adrian of Shogon’s Gate and this is my boy, Ashur,” his father replied after taking off his hat and wringing it in his hands.

The mage scoured at Adrian, “Of course I know who you are. How dare you insult my intelligence? I’d tell you my name but simply hearing it might kill you both…”

“Alright, fine. I’ll tell you. I am Poupon The Magnificent.”

The mage went silent and stared at the father and son for what seemed to be an eternity, “Alright, well, you survived hearing my name and thus have passed the first test.”

Ashur couldn’t tell if the mage was serious, taunting them, or just a whacky blowhard.

“I have been told you think the child is a mage. Tell me why,” Poupon’s voice brimmed with a casual arrogance, apparently a common skill honed within the guild.

“M’lord, several months ago, my son became upset and seems to have killed our dog,” Adrian stammered.

“I think that’s more likely to make him a serial killer than a mage, fool. We’re better off going ahead and having the poor child executed now to save innocent lives. Guards!” Poupon yelled.

“No, no, m’lord! He killed the dog by accident, from across the room….. without touching him,” Adrian cried. “The Earl’s mandate states that we must report to the guild if we suspect someone of performing magic.”

If a person is blessed with innate ability to store mana, the energy must be intentionally drained periodically or it would find its own escape. Case in point, Bosse the dog. A century prior, after a string of unexpected explosions and innocent deaths, the Earl’s father had made it mandatory for all those with inherent mana be tested and subsequently registered. If parents failed to register their children, they’d be held accountable for the child’s mana. Depending on the incident, that could be a fine, indentured servitude, or death.

Poupon stood up, placing his hand on the boy’s forehead. His thin, liver spotted fingers were like icicles dangling from his palm.

“Be still boy!” the mage snapped as Ashur tried to pull away.

“Inspect Person!” Poupon intoned, clearly using a skill. “Hmm, he isn’t a one trick pony like the Gifted, there is something more, but it’s weak.”

Ashur felt the cold seep from Poupon’s palm, chilling his thoughts, but it didn’t lower his excitement. Being Gifted was generally a blessing, but it was sometimes a curse. The Gifted were born with an ability to do one certain thing, a single magical knack. It could be anything from shooting blazing beams of fire from their eyes, to always waking up with perfect hair, but like any other inherent mana user the energy had to be used, or it would go off randomly. Poupon let out a dramatic sigh, looking down at the now half-conscious boy.

“He has the mage’s gift, with multiple affinities as well, but it is weak. His strongest seems to be force magic, which fits the incident with your mutt. It matters little though. His mana pool is most the pathetic I’ve ever seen,” The old mage intoned.

Poupon grabbed his staff resting against the table, standing tall before Adrian and Ashur, “By edict of the Earl, you’re are being given the most basic spell of your affinity and a modicum of instruction.”

“Has the boy been imprinted with anything yet?”

“No sir,” answered Adrian.

“He should have plenty of anima for a minor spell then,” Poupon again wrapped his corpselike fingers around the child’s skull and intoned, “Imprint Spell: Grasping Hand!”

And nothing happened.

“That’s odd, but I supposed that such a young soul may not yet be solidified enough to imprint, especially a black soul capable of canine mutilation,” Poupon stated. “I guess you’ll have to do this the old way.”

“It was an accident. He’s just a kid…” Adrian started.

“Shut it! Can you read?” Poupon asks.

“Yes, yes, m’lord. I can,” replied Adrian.

“Good, that saves me some trouble then. Wait here. An apprentice will return with the manual for Grasping Hand, the beginning Force Magic spell. It is a very basic spell that anyone with a mana pool can learn. At seven years of age, bring the child back to the guild for retesting. If he cannot cast the spell by then, you’ll be fined. And by the looks of you, you’ll be paying that fine via imprisonment,” Poupon grinned.

Adrian looking around nervously, “But sir…”

“No buts!” Poupon yelled. “A talented child can learn his first spell the old way in a few months. Surely your little wretch can learn it in over a year.”

Poupon gliding to the doorway, with a graceful gait and feet unseen beneath long robes.

“And as I’m sure you know, sharing information on spells from the Guild without consent is illegal. It is punishable by lashing or death, depending on the spell. If the manual isn’t returned in the same condition it was lent to you, well a prayer to your god might help, but it won’t save you,” Poupon hissed.

Without another word, the mage was gone and Adrian sat in silence beside his son.

The blue robed apprentice retuned with a thin, soft covered booklet containing only a few pages. He dropped it on the table in front of Adrian and left without speaking.

“Well, I guess that means we’re done, come along Ashur,” said the tired cobbler.

The two left the tower and began their long walk home though the city of Shogon’s Gate. The Mage’s Guild was in richest corner of the Merchant District, and far from where the poor cobbler lived with his only son. The hungry pair walked quickly in an attempt to make it home before dark. In the day time, most of the city could be considered to be reasonably safe, and where they lived near the city wall was not in a bad district. Still, it was near the border to Ragtown which meant that it would be wiser for them to be inside after sunset, even though they had almost nothing to steal.

Shogon’s Gate was not a large city, even by the standards of relatively small Kingdom of Dreham, and only had a population of around twenty thousand souls, but it was a notable one. It was located on the southern tip of a crescent shaped peninsula, with the other tip of the crescent only half a league away. The natural shape of the land formed a gateway from the Yalic Ocean to the shallow inland Glygh, and a constant crosswind kept the city smelling of salt and fish.

To the southwest of the city lay the Green Expanse, a massive, untamed forest and well known monstrous zone. A towering wall, five times the height of a man, drew a straight line across the peninsula separating town proper from farmlands that were slowly eroding the edges of the forest in the name of growth. The wall was not just there for looks, and had been built after horde of monsters from the green had sacked the city fifty years ago.

The young Ashur had been born in Shogon’s Gate, so rather than worrying about monsters from the Green, he was fantasying about being a powerful mage. A hundred questions shot through Ashur’s head, but he was too out of breath by the fast pace being set by his father to ask any of them. He started making a list of most important ones for when they finally returned home, but the childish thoughts soon disappeared at the thought of a meal upon arrival. It had been a long day waiting at the guild and both father and son were famished from the stressful ordeal.

The family of two lived in the cobbler’s tiny shop. It was a simple place, which catered to the working class of the city and residents of Ragtown. It had two rooms upstairs for sleeping, and a small kitchen behind the combined workspace and showroom downstairs. Adrian unlocked the front door and listened to the little bell over the door jingle when they entered. Stumbling to the kitchen after the long walk, the weary duo sat down to meager dinner of day old bread, toasted in the fire, and some hard cheese.

They ate in silence, and it was not until after the dishes were clean that Ashur dared to speak to his tired father. Most of his questions already forgotten, the boy asked the ones that stood out the most.

“Da, how come they couldn’t imprint me with that spell?”

“Dunno boy, probably just an age thing like that fella said.”

“Da, can you read me the book?”

“It’s been a long day boy, can it wait?”

“Please, please, please Da?” Ashur begged excitedly, “I’m gonna learn magic!”

Sighing, Adrian wearily pulled out the thin magical study guide. Catching Ashur’s eyes with his own, Adrian spoke in his most serious voice. It was the tone that Ashur heard when he was getting punished, and he paid close attention to his father’s words.

“Boy, this book is worth more than the shop. It’s worth more than our lives. If ya somehow muck up and damage it, they’ll truss us up and sell us like slaves.” Adrian paused to let the gravity of his words sink in. “May not seem it, but this life we live is better than most. There is plenty to eat, we got a roof over our head, and we got no one botherin’ us. We may not be livin’ like them bastard nobles, but we’re a pair of princes compared to them poor bastards over in Ragtown.”

“We got us an opportunity here for an even better life, but screwin’ it up means losin’ everything. So from now on, you’ll spend all your time learnin’ that spell. Every day from breakfast until dinner you’ll practice it, until ya got it good.”

“No food or drink near the book, and clean your dirty paws before you think of touchin’ it. If it’s not on the table being studied, it stays on that shelf right there. If I ever catch it otherwise, so help me I will tan the skin off your hide and use it for boots!”

“Once you learn it, no one sees you casting it but me. No one likes them stuck up mages, and it won’t be doing us any good to let anyone know ya got magic tell you’re properly guilded. So keep it a secret, ya hear?”

Stunned by his father’s intensity, Ashur replied with a quiet, “Ok.”

“Now repeat what I just said.” Adrian ordered.

Ashur was a little frightened by his father’s demeanor, but fully intended to abide by his every instruction. He was getting to learn magic after all. After parroting back his father’s rules he went and washed his hands. He then placed the book reverently on the kitchen table and then looked to his father for approval. At Adrian’s nod he proceeded.

The book’s cover was made of soft hide and contained the spell’s title, Grasping Hand, written in plain script. Opening to the first page Asbur saw a simple and yet complex symbol which his father told him was a rune. It was beautifully drawn by an expert calligrapher in seven smooth strokes of the pen. Some of the lines started fat and stayed wide, but others changed in width, slimming down to a point or even flaring out again.

To Ashur’s eyes, it was beautiful.

Turning to the next page it read: The spell Grasping hand is considered the first spell within the Force affinity. It is classified as a minor rune based spell and is generally suitable for all mages. The spell grasps a small object and brings it to your hand.

The initial cost of the spell is approximately 10 mana. To cast the spell study the entire rune on the previous page, which is the combination of the rune for a Force, Fàs, modified by the a movement rune, ça, and the mana limiting ìl. Picture the rune in your mind and channel mana into it. Next draw the rune in the air with your dominant hand while saying the entire rune aloud, ìl-Fàsça­­. While you are doing this, picture the item you want in your mind and then draw it to you.

Practice without mana until you are able to do it consistently. Grasping Hand is a channeled spell and must be released by cutting your mana off from the rune. Using the base cost of the spell an object weighing up to one half stone can be lifted and or moved. The object must be within five paces. Lifting a heavier object will cost additional mana or require advanced mastery. If this is your first time learning a spell read the following page to learn to how to access your mana.

Turning to the next and final page, Ashur learned how to manipulate his mana. It read: Inside of every mana user resides a container of energy, generally referred to as a mana pool. As soon as it is located by the user, they can usually instinctually feel it at all times. In order to cast spells, you must first practice basic mana control. Do so by drawing small amounts of mana from your pool, and then move into various points in your body. This will not harm the user, as the user’s mana will recognize its own flesh and travel back to the pool naturally when it is not being manipulated. Do not under any means attempt to move the mana into another person, as it will likely result in the death or serious injury of one or both parties. Once the user is able to control the mana within his own body, he can then channel it into spells by forcing the mana into the rune building in his mind.

The bottom of the page instructed him on the basics of meditation. It read: Mana will always regenerate based on the user’s natural rate. The rate will improve over time depending on the amount of mana being used. The more you empty and fill your pool, the more your natural rate of recovery will improve. You can also draw in mana to fill your pool intentionally by meditating. The user needs to find a place he is comfortable and sit or lie down. The user then needs to clear his head, locate the ambient mana in the world and draw it to him. Some users feel it coming through their skin, some absorb it through their ears, for some the smelling is the key, and others breathe it in through their lungs. The user must find what is right for them. More detailed instruction and professional guidance is recommended.

Ashur found the instructions both simple and complex at the same time. In the following weeks Adrian would be forced read the book to his son more times than he could count. It took Ashur a while to fully understand some of the concepts, but soon enough the boy had every word memorized, and the meaning of all the words filed away within his tiny head.

For a book worth more than his life, it sure did not contain a lot of information. In fact the entire thing only left him wanting to know more. How did the runes work, how many were there and how were they discovered? Where did mana come from? What was it made of? Multitudes of unanswered questions stacked quickly inside of his young mind, and yet he had no one to ask about them

Ashur watched his father worked hard every day to even provide them both such pathetic meals like potato soup and day old bread. Even before his father’s speech he recognized that they lived better than most, but he wanted more to life then this simple survival. If he could become a guilded mage, they would live like kings, a fact that his father was now constantly reminding him of. They could have anything they wanted, if he just dedicated and worked hard enough. Hard work was something that Ashur could do, and every boy wanted to learn magic, so no extra dedication was needed.

In a simple cobbler’s shop, inside of a little kitchen, the tiny Ashur made a silent declaration. He didn’t care what that goofy old fart Poupon said about his lack of ability. He was going to dedicate himself to magic and become one of the greatest mages Shogon’s Gate has ever seen!