“I’m not getting it.” Odd whined in dismay, once again twisting her fingers through the four-step pattern. Galia could feel the ripples of energy forming around her companion. “Fotya!” The energy felt as if it were jerked off balance, then dissipated. There was a puff of smoke and a hint of ozone in the air as the spell failed for the fifth time. Odd gave a little screech of exasperation. “It should work! I’ve got the schima, there’s nothing wrong with the nevma, am I doing the lexma wrong? Does it sound wrong to you, Galia?”

The imploring eyes behind the thick optics made Galia sigh inwardly. The first few weeks of training had been boring lectures from Journeymen in the Tower of Creation. Mostly on elementary spellwork, focus and forming schima. Then they had moved onto nevma training, learning the eight prime forms and the first sequence of derivations from those forms. Meridraste’s had said that there were sixty-four derivations on the prime forms, each with an associated schima, used to build more complex spellwork.

After working through the basics, they had been given over to Master Horngrym and a class in Destruction.

“Mages are often targets of attack.” Master Horngrym had lectured. “We can be devastating if given time to prepare. Our enemies know this and so they focus on attacking us first in any combat situation. We are not spending all this time and effort training you to end up with a Gnoll ripping your throat out. To that end, we teach you basic combat magic first, and then you can go off and learn whatever nuances and vagaries your other Masters want you to learn.”

Galia had felt that barb directed at her and the other students in Changes. It had taken some effort, but Galia had swallowed her pride and allowed herself to learn.

“The spell is unraveling at the end.” Galia said, sighing. “Are you sure you’re keeping the schima locked?”

“Yes!” Odd said, frustrated. “It’s one of the few things I’m actually good at!”

“Ok, ok!” Galia said, placatingly. She didn’t know why the others were turning to her, she had been trying to summon her own flame bolt without success for the last hour, same as they had. “The lexma sounds right, but I could be wrong.”

“You’re not.” Uli said from where he sat off to the side. They had taken over a small practice room in one of the laboratory buildings that dotted the campus. The entire building had seemed empty, though they had heard the echoes of other students’ voices coming from somewhere. Douglas had told them that they could use any practice rooms that had been marked for open study. It was safer to practice here than in their own rooms back at the Tower, after one of Odd’s cantrips had backfired and caused the entire floor to warp and distort, Master Rathwin had told them not to practice in the Tower until they were more experienced. Uli slid off the table he had been sitting on and crossed over. “The lexma is the most forgiving part in Destruction magic. I must have heard Fotya pronounced a half-dozen ways during class and they were all right.”

“Then what’s going wrong?” Odd asked, sinking to the floor, primed to start a good long sulk.

“I may have an idea…” Uli began but trailed off. His shyness was getting better over the past few weeks, but it still surfaced now and again.

“Go ahead, Uli.” Galia sighed. “We’re not going to bite your head off.”

“Well, my…my teacher before I came here, they were very skilled in Destruction magic, combat magic in particular.” Uli said, walking to the center of the room and looking at the wooden targets they had erected at the far end. “And they said that combat magic was more than just running through the formula, emotion and intention plays a big role.”

Uli turned and stared at the target. His fingers moved with precise movements through the four-step nevma, finally leveling his extended forefinger and pinky towards the target. “Fotya!”

A brilliant yellow-white ball snapped into existence then shot off in a blinding blur towards the target. The bolt punched a sizzling hole in the wooden target, then splashed against the stone wall behind it, leaving a scorch mark before dissipating. Uli looked satisfied, but not happy, as he usually did with successful spellwork.

“Impressive.” Odd said, leaning back against the wall. “Still doesn’t help me.”

“Emotion and intention.” Uli said. “You have to want to cause destruction, to do something that would hurt someone else. Combat magic flows from how much you want to hurt or kill your opponent versus how much they might want to hurt or kill you.”

“So I have to get angry at a plank of wood?” Galia asked.

“Kind of?” Uli shrugged. “More you want to cause it to be destroyed. That you want to smash it apart, or burn it to cinders, that sort of thing.”

“Sounds kind of dark.” Odd said, wrinkling her nose in distaste.

“It’s fighting.” Uli shrugged. “You get your hands dirty when you fight.”

Galia frowned and stood next to Uli. She stared down at the target; she pictured that Anton Belmont was standing in front of it. She had only seen the man a few times since they had shared a carriage, but each interaction had somehow been more annoying than the last. Anton had amassed a small cadre of followers who followed him around the Tower grounds like a little pack of sycophantic dogs. Whenever she had crossed their path he had stopped his group and said something in low tones to them eliciting gales of laughter as they walked on.

Her fingers flashed through the nevma and she barked out the command word without hesitating. The bolt that streamed from her fingers smashed the wooden target to splinters then disappeared into a rolling bloom of flames that quickly disappeared against the back wall.

“Emotion…yeah, that seems to do it.” Galia said, blinking.

Uli swallowed hard. “Y-yes, the stronger the emotion, the stronger the spell.”

“That doesn’t make any sense!” Odd groaned. “Meridraste’s goes on and on about control of emotion, precise focus, all of that stuff being the center of spellwork. Now we have to picture people we don’t like to flick a bit of fire at a table!”

“Frustration might work.” Galia suggested. “Give it a try, Odd.”

Odd looked at her with narrowed, irritated eyes. She rose and stomped to the center of the room. With annoyed sloppiness she went through the pattern the pointed at the target and sneered out: “Fotya.”

Galia got her sight back after a few moments but motes of color floated in her vision. Uli was cowered as far away from Odd as he could get, head buried in his hands. Odd stood in a daze, blinking as steam rose from her slightly singed clothing. Her face had gotten the deep red of a bad sunburn, all except where the rims of her optics had left a shadow. At the other end of the room the targets had been obliterated. A charred blast mark eight feet across showed clearly on the opposite wall.

Odd wobbled on her feet and Galia dove to catch the young woman. She managed to slow Odd’s descent, so she landed in a sort of soft flop rather than a bone-rattling fall.

“I feel floppy.” Odd mumbled, her pupils wide and dialated, her skin was clammy and pale beneath the sunburn.

“Mana burn.” Said a voice from the door, Galia turned and saw Master Horngrym. The Master of Destruction had pulled her hair back in a severe bun that accentuated her cheekbones and dressed in a simple, yet flattering dress of crimson silk slashed with cream along the bodice. “Mistress Rehn pushed too much of herself through that spell. Made a First Circle spell the equivalent of it’s Fourth Circle counterpart. Impressive, but it had the predictable side effect.”

“Is she going to be all right?” Galia asked, frustrated that Horngrym had done nothing to help.

“Oh yes.” Horngrym said, flippantly. “As I said, it’s just a little mana burn, in the beginning you power your spells from your Core, and that only has so much energy. We call that energy mana. Eventually you will burn through all the energy your Core has to spare. At that point it basically tells your body to shut down until it can rebuild that reserve. The effect is called ‘mana burn’, it’s unpleasant but does not cause any lasting damage. A good night’s sleep and some food and she’ll be right as rain.”

Uli finally recovered enough to approach. “I didn’t realize that…I didn’t know…”

“The emotional ramp?” Horngrym asked. “Quite clever, it does give those First Circle spells a bit of a kick. Don’t rely on it as a crutch though, emotion is fickle and can fail you at the most inopportune times. Focus is key, knowing deep down that the spell will do what you are telling it to. You are imposing your will on the universe, children. Plucking the sun from the sky with your naked fist, not asking mother for a candle after dark.”

Uli bit his lip and nodded, keeping his eyes lowered. Galia fumed quietly, if Horngrym had told them these things during classes it might have helped, and Odd wouldn’t be lying on the floor of the practice chamber.

“Something bothering you, Mistress Amneris?” Horngrym asked, looking down at where Galia knelt, a hint of a smile on her dark red lips.

“Just wondering what brought you to the practice labs, Master Horngrym.” Galia said, returning her smile with one of her own. “The Destruction students have one of their own built into the Tower, I’d heard.”

They locked eyes for a moment and Galia felt a strange sensation, like Horngrym was trying to puzzle out something from the look in her eyes, the set of her face. It was only for a moment and then the sensation passed. Horngrym cocked her head, a dark look in her eyes. “You Amneris, so damn clever. That’s one thing you have in common with your father and your brother. Clever. The rest is different, I wonder if that’s your mother’s doing. Garrett and Galyn took to Destruction like a fish to water. Makes sense, Garrett’s parents were Xatharin. Greatest Destruction mages in the world are Xath.”

Galia expected some snide comment. Her Xatharin heritage was easy to see, though lighter than her father it didn’t mean that the Solarians looked at her any different. Horngrym looked like the type to make disparaging remarks, call her night-skinned, or drae-kin, though her ancestors fought just as hard against Draenos as any Solarian. It was just bad luck that summoned drae had skins as black as onyx and not white as chalk, then maybe the comparisons would go the other way.

Horngrym gave a little twitch of her lips, an almost smile as though she just thought of something funny and repressed it as either unimportant or not for current company. “You’re right, my students have their own practice ranges and labs. Believe me I’d much rather give this duty to one of them, they’re far better suited to it, but I suppose you need the practice.”

“Duty?” Uli asked, worry blossoming on his face yet again.

“A task to test your skill and provide a service to the Towers.” Horngrym said, adjusting the sleeves of her dress absently. “There are a series of storerooms near the Tower of Changes, they have unfortunately attracted an infestation of Dyre Gnawers. They need to be cleared out. I’ve spoken to Master Rathwin and he agrees that it would be a suitable task for the three of you.”

“Aren’t Dyre Gnawers dangerous?” Uli asked.

“Quite.” Horngrym nodded. “Five times the size of your normal rat and with no fear of humankind. In fact, a lone human is something they consider quite a snack.”

Galia shook her head and rose to her feet. “Wouldn’t that be better entrusted to your students? The three of us can barely cast a firebolt reliably.”

“Ah, you see that is a problem, my students would excel at this sort of task, and I would love to see what kind of clever variations on their basic combat spells they come up with.” Horngrym explained, taking a few steps back towards the door. “The place is the problem. The infestation is in the tunnels beneath the Tower of Changes. Destruction mages would find themselves facing the Gnawers and the Tower defenses. Your home, your mess, I’m afraid.”

Uli moaned to himself softly and Galia fought hard to keep from rolling her eyes. “Master Rathwin authorized it?”

Horngrym nodded. “You can ask him if you’d like, but he’s closeted himself in his sanctum working on some piece of useless esoteric spellwork, most likely.”

“When do we need to get this done?” Galia asked.

Horngrym glanced down at the prone form of Odd. “No rush, tomorrow sometime would be just fine.”

“We’ll get it done, Master.” Galia said, with more conviction than she felt.

“Excellent!” Horngrym said with a broad smile. “I’ve put a few scrolls aside at the library for you. It wouldn’t do to go face monsters with just the one spell.” She said as she left the room, giving them a dismissive wave.

Galia and Uli looked at each other for a few moments, Uli’s start terror shone in is deep brown eyes. “That…that did not sound good.”

“No, it didn’t.” Galia said, bitterly. “I want to verify this with Master Rathwin. Can you help get Odd back to the Tower?”

Uli looked down at Odd with uncertainty. “I guess I could get a wheelbarrow or something.”

“Please, Uli.” Galia said, closing her eyes. Why does everything have to be a struggle. “I have some things I need to do; can you handle this?”

Uli looked doubtful but nodded.

“Great, I’ll see you at dinner.” Galia said and left the training room herself. Let’s find that damn cat.

***

“I have no idea whether Master Rathwin agreed to Master Horngrym’s request or not, and no you can’t go ask him.” Douglas said. The calico was sunning himself in the golden light that shone through the library’s main window. It had taken Galia most of the afternoon to track down the elusive feline, she had a feeling that he could make himself quite scarce when he wished to.

“It seems dangerous.” Galia said. “Dyre Gnawers don’t sound like your standard rats.”

“Undoubtably.” Douglas confirmed. “They’re huge and territorial, they work in packs and they’re drawn to magic like a pig to truffles.”

“So why send untrained apprentices to deal with them?” Galia asked.

“Probably to take out one or more of you.” Douglas said, stretching languidly.

“Tower Wars again?” Galia sighed.

“Always.” Douglas said, regarding Galia with sharp green eyes. “Horngrym has been after Rathwin’s staff for a decade now. The title of Master of the Towers of Osterlan comes with access to significant power. Your father and her were forming quite the little cabal before he headed out on his latest escapade.”

“Why would they want Rathwin’s position? Aren’t they both Masters? And Horngrym has her own Tower, why covet Changes?” Galia asked, confused.

Douglas blinked slowly. “Rathwin isn’t just Master of Changes, he’s Master of the Towers. Osterlan is his fief, just as surely as if he were a lord or baron. More, since he can call on the power of all four Towers at will. Do yourself a favor and pick up a history of the Tower Wars and the formation of the Osterlan Order while you’re here. I’d advise starting to use the library for its intended purpose sooner rather than later.”

“Father hates being tied down.” Galia mused. “Why conspire to take the Towers?”

“Maybe he was just helping Horngrym? They’re very good friends.” Douglas said, voice dripping with innuendo. “Besides, Horngrym has been his staunchest ally every time he goes into the wilds searching for gods know what.”

“Doesn’t matter.” Galia said, shaking her head. “Can Horngrym order us to do this, or not?”

Douglas yawned, exposing his many sharp teeth. “She’s a Master of a Tower, she can order you to walk to Kas Solas to pick up breakfast and Rathwin would only be upset if you didn’t pick anything up for him as well. If there are any breeches of etiquette Rathwin will handle it, after it’s over.”

“Which is why Horngrym told us to do it now, so Rathwin couldn’t object.” Galia sighed.

“The girl can learn!” Douglas exclaimed, sleepily. “Now run along, I’ve only had two four-hour naps today and I’m exhausted.”

Galia stood for a moment while Douglas drifted off. She considered dropping a heavy book near him to startle the smug feline awake, but since she wasn’t sure that Douglas was entirely a cat, she decided against it.

Approaching the check-in desk, she took her first look around the library. Stacks of shelves crammed with books and scrolls stretched into the dim depths of the building. Much like the Tower of Changes, the library felt bigger than it should be, like the building had more room inside than was bounded by its outside. Several heavy doors lined the walls, most had thick locks and looked like they hadn’t been disturbed in ages. A few had locks and were guarded by one of the Paladins of Rasander. The closest to her was guarded by the tall, short-haired woman she had seen on her first day. No longer sweating and now clad in mail with a surcoat displaying the mountain and star of the Wanderer. She held a heavy spear in one hand and a shield in the other. The paladin kept her eyes locked on something in the middle distance, as though she were completely oblivious to the world around her. She had pretty green eyes, Galia noticed, again feeling heat in her cheeks.

“It’s not a good idea to stare at them.” A voice said from behind the desk. Galia looked down and blinked in surprise as a white-haired halfling man clambered onto a stool and began sorting through books. He wore a leather vest filled with pockets and the cuffs of his white shirt were stained with blots of dark ink. “They’re not too thrilled watching the backs of idiots who are researching the next fool thing that’s going to get them or their party killed.”

“They just seem to be watching doors.” Galia said.

The halfling snorted, not looking up. “Those are restricted archives. Any time a mage enters then a Paladin of Rasander must stand guard.”

“In case someone tries to break in and attack them?” Galia asked.

The halfling looked at her like she had grown a third eye. “In case something tries to break out. They hold them back until the Masters can be brought.” He shook his head and went back to his sorting. “Though Amneris is usually quite competent, haven’t had a break out from him since he took the Third Circle.”

“Galyn’s in there?” Galia asked, brightening.

“Last I checked.” The halfling shrugged.

Galia smiled and headed towards the door. At her approach the paladin’s eyes flicked to her, brows furrowing. Galia tried to put on her most disarming smile. “It’s all right, my brother is in—”

The paladin lowered her spear in a swift, fluid motion, bringing her shield up and taking an aggressive stance. “Halt! Come no further or I will gut you like a fish, do you hear me?”

“I just wanted to see my brother.” Galia protested, taking a step forward.

The paladin brought her spear just beneath Galia’s chin and those pretty green eyes went hard. “What part of ‘gut you like a fish’ don’t you understand?”

“That’s enough, Charity.” The halfling had come from the desk and was now standing at Galia’s side. “Gray robes mean an apprentice, and we go easy on apprentices, remember?”

Charity frowned, but her eyes went from murderous to merely annoyed. “I understand Master Rootstrider.” She lowered her spear and took a step back. “This area is off limits, apprentice, please keep your distance.”

Galia nodded, rubbing beneath her chin.

“Told you they were grouchy!” Douglas called from his sunbeam.

Rootstrider shook his head. “Come along, I have something for you at the desk.”

Galia followed him back to the check-in desk, trying to keep from looking as embarrassed as she felt. “Something for me? You don’t even know who I am.”

“There’s something of a family resemblance.” Roostrider said, clambering back onto his stool. “Your brother almost did the same thing when your father was working. He and Rodrik nearly came to blows, that would have been a mess.”

“Really?” Galia chuckled. “All I ever heard was of Galyn the perfect student.”

Rootstrider gave her a disbelieving look. “Rathwin almost expelled him a dozen times before he reached First Circle. Talented, yes, perfect, far from it.” The halfling dug out three tightly wound scrolls and placed them on the desk. “Master Horngrym left these for you.”

“Thanks.” Galia said, picking them up and unrolling the first. It was a spell, something to make her harder to hit, some sort of armor she guessed from the structure of the schima.

“Of course.” Rootstrider said watching as she studied the scroll. “Do you know how to use those?”

“Just follow the directions?” Galia said, suddenly unsure.

“Yes, if you only want to use the spell once.” Rootstrider said slowly. “Those are quickspell scrolls. More forgiving than traditional spellwork. Cast using the instructions on the scroll and you have cast the spell, but it will destroy the scroll and if you try to cast it a second time using the same methodology the spell will fail.”

“Of course.” Galia said, shaking her head. “Of course they are.”

“What do you need them for, if you don’t mind me asking?” Rootstrider asked continuing to sort books on his desk.

“Am I supposed to tattle on other Masters?” Galia asked with a snort. “Seems against the eat or be eaten ethos around here.”

Roostrider chuckled, his wrinkled face crinkling around ice blue eyes. “Never was one for Tower politics, that’s why I went the Artificer route. Books and scrolls are my only cares. I only ask because you seem a mite dismayed to getting single-use aids.”

Galia looked the halfling over. He had the air of scholars she knew back in Peracost, complete with ink-stained sleeves. She supposed that he couldn’t do any more damage to her than she had already done to herself. “Master Horngrym is sending my friends and I into the tunnels beneath the Tower of Changes. There’s a Dyre Gnawer infestation that she wants us to root out.”

Rootstrider’s face darkened, his eyebrows knit together in a mix of concern and anger. “You’re part of the new class, right?”

“Yes, all three of us are.” Galia replied.

The halfling wizard unrolled the three scrolls and snorted in derision. “Three Shield scrolls, gives you temporary protection to physical attacks. It’s finicky though, especially for a First Circle spell, it exhausts itself quickly you might get one or two uses out of the shield before it fails, requiring you to re-cast. Did she tell you what she was going to give you?”

Galia shook her head.

“I thought not.” Rootstider sighed. The halfling pondered the three scrolls for a few moments. “Stay here for a moment, I have something that may help.” Hopping from the stool, Rootstrider moved swiftly into the stacks and disappeared among the row of books.

Galia was left alone at the desk, she fidgeted uncomfortably in the profound silence of the library. She looked over at the paladin, Charity, and was surprised when those pretty green eyes flicked from her to the distant-alert posture she’d had before Galia had approached. Galia cleared her throat, nervously. “I’m sorry about…well, approaching?”

Charity grunted, blinking in acknowledgement. The paladins were a highly expressive bunch.

“I was just excited.” Galia continued. “My brother Galyn is in there, apparently, and we’ve both been in the Towers for more than a month and I’ve barely seen him. Hardly know where he is most of the time.”

Charity’s face remained impassive, but Galia caught her eyes flicking over a few times.

“Anyways, thank you for not gutting me…like a fish?” Galia said with a shy smile.

For a moment she swore she could see the paladin’s lips quirk upwards. “Just remember to keep your distance.”

Galia laughed and nodded. “I’ll do that.” She wanted to say more but at that moment Rootstrider reappeared from the back of the library, he carried three small leather books, each one appeared to be pocket sized and had a plain cover with no lettering.

“Had a few spares back in the lab, thought you could use them.” Rootstrider said, placing the books on the desk and then clambering back onto the stool.

Galia picked one up and leafed through the pages, they were all blank. “They’re empty.”

“Of course they are, wouldn’t do you much good if they weren’t.” Rootstrider said, confused. He stared at Galia for a few moments while she returned a blank stare. “Gods you’re new, aren’t you? These are quickspell spellbooks, a little bit of a cheat. Inscribe the schima, the nevma notation—they have taught you nevma notation, right?” Galia nodded, it was part of the introductory course. “Small favors, anyways nevma notation and the lexma in High Malconian runes, not vernacular Malconian!”

“Then what?” Galia asked, still confused.

“Then you’ll have the spell ready so long as you have the mana to spend.” Rootstrider said. “Open the book to the spell perform the final nevma, intone the lexma and the spell works. You should be able to transcribe those scrolls into these as well as any spells that you’ve already been taught.”

“Just Elemental Bolt.” Galia said.

“The Fotya variant?” Rootstrider winced.

“Yes, Horngrym said we weren’t ready for the other variants.” Galia replied. “Why? What’s wrong?”

“Dyre Gnawers are resistant to fire.” Rootstrider said with a sympathetic grin. “Good news is that you should be able to puzzle out a variant using Meridraste’s, assuming you have a copy?”

Galia nodded.

“Small favors.” Rootstrider sighed. “The chapter on elemental theory should help you work around the schima and lexma problems, but the nevma will take some work since the pattern is a second derivative from the prime.”

Galia’s head was whirling. “Can’t you just…show me?”

Rootstrider blinked. “Teach you Destruction magic when Master Horngrym has explicitly said you weren’t ready? No thank you, I value my head where it is.”

“But what about all this?” Galia motioned to the spellbooks.

“I’m just giving you tools and some helpful hints. What you do with it is entirely up to you.” Rootstrider said emphatically. “Understand?”

It began to dawn on Galia what was happening. Directly teaching her magic would be going around one of the Masters of the Tower but giving her the ability to teach herself was something else entirely. “Apprentices are allowed to learn on our own? Beyond what the Masters have taught us?”

“Within limits.” Rootstrider said with a slightly crooked smile. “You may have access to learning materials within the First Circle. Not completed spellbooks though, just treatises on theory, history, and application.”

“Why would they let us do that?” Galia asked. “Isn’t it dangerous?”

“Oh yes, very much so.” Rootstrider said. “But that’s the point of magic, isn’t it?”

Galia found herself nodding slowly, as though a fundamental truth had just been revealed to her. “I think I’m starting to understand the rules.”

Rootstrider laughed. “Oh, my poor child.” He laughed, though there was a hint of sadness in his eyes. “You’re just beginning to understand that there is a game.”