Riloth the 19th the 78th

The smoke I inhaled did not kill me, but I laid in a state in and out of sleep the rest of that day. The next morning, I was woken by a nudge from Dagmar.

“Get up!” she said in a tone reminiscent of Ren’s training commands. “We got things to do today. Be downstairs in five minutes.”

I lamented as I rose. Am I cursed to only encounter bossy women?

She left, and I took my time getting ready, reflecting on my stupidity of the today before.

In hindsight, an open flame in the woods was a bad idea. Best I don’t let Dagmar learn about this. At least I got a new spell out of the ordeal.

At the thought, I reached into the Arcane Realm and followed my new instincts to summon the pocket of wind around my body. Instantly, a torrent of air spiraled around me, wreaking havoc on the order of my room. My discarded sleepwear—along with papers, quills, and bedding—blew away from me across the room, where it fell subject to a light breeze.

After a few moments of chaos, the room settled with all the nearby contents pushed out of my immediate vicinity, save for the heavy furniture. The writing chair now trembled slightly in the wind just beyond the spell's reach and all the items beyond that fluttered in the breeze. I could feel that the wind directly around me was spinning in a chaotic whirl, but I could see the air beyond the spell’s effect was only being displaced by the new air of the spell.

Another aspect of the spell—which had escaped my notice in the chaos of the fire—was that breathing took more effort. I could still breathe, but it was similar to traveling on the Kituh; the rushing air seemed less willing to enter my lungs and each breath felt shallow.

I drew my knife and cut a scrap off of my shirt, which flapped violently in the wind. Holding the strip close to my chest, I released it. The spell carried the strip in a rapid tumble around my body once, after which it flew away and settled in the far corner of the room where the wind was still.

I took a step towards my bed and watched my surroundings. The covers blew away as the source of the wind grew near them. Taking a step in each direction showed this to be the case.

The wind is being conjured around me, where it circles me for some time before blowing away. It must be creating air, unlike my other wind spells, which only move it about in a specific manner. How long does the conjured air last?

I spied the vials from the two potions I’d drank among the spare clarity potions on the floor, but getting them was no simple feat. As I stepped towards them, the wind disturbed the settled detritus in my room and blew them beyond my reach. After some angling, I cornered the vials and scooped them up.

I cleared the air out of each with a quick non-magical puff and then waved them about in my bubble of air, before resealing them and trapping the summoned air inside.

If I check these periodically, I can determine how long the conjured air persists in this realm.

Next, I closed my eyes, and activated my Willsight. Not fully entering my mental vault, but envisioning my bridge opening a crack as I touched that meditative state. When I opened my eyes, I saw only a torrent of blues identical to my own aura. It was like my first experience with my Willsight, where I could see nothing but gray. I held my hand up to my face and could make out the outline of the less turbulent aura of it.

I released the spell, and the wild blue swirls surrounding me slowed and settled into the more tranquil two-tone blue swirling of my aura. Slowly, the blue diffused through the air in the room, covering it with a blue haze that lingered.

When I opened the door to the hall, the air of my room mingled with the air in the hall, and quickly dispersed. With that test done, I released my Willsight and carried on. I left my room running through possibilities. My feet brought me to the baths. Steam filled the room and provided another opportunity to test the effects of my as yet unnamed spell.

I recast the spell and the wind burst forth around me. It quickly displaced the steam in an ever-growing circle centered on myself, clearing the air in a bubble, and creating a wider area of thinner vapor. As the mist was displaced, more still rose from the water. This new rising mist showed a breeze emanating from myself, leading towards the open windows set high in the wall on the opposite side of the pool.

One final test, I hope this works, or I will have to explain this all to Dagmar. Dagmar! Oh no, I’m late!

I walked towards the edge of the pool. As I had hoped, when my envelope of air reached the surface of the water, it was blown away and a bowl-shaped indentation was formed. Water sprayed over the rim as it was constantly displaced by newly conjured air. Each step into the bath displaced even more water, until I was standing in the center of a cylinder of air that rose to my chest. This pocket of air was not the full two feet I’d observed outside the pool—the water was held at bay nearly a foot away from my chest, and there was a puddle at my feet.

The water acted as a funnel for the air, directing all of its force to blow directly up in a pale imitation of Updraft. At the edge of the water, the wind threw a torrent of spray far into the air, causing the room to be showered in the rain. The bath water around me also began to spin in the direction of the wind, and I could see a subtle whirlpool begin to form as it built up speed—though while I stood there it never reached the rapid spin of the air.

I took a step forward and was surprised to find that the water did not hinder my movement. I had expected to encounter resistance as I displaced the water with my movements, but it seemed the spell took care of that.

This could probably work as a method of reducing drag, though I can’t imagine a situation where it would be necessary. Mage Armor had a similar effect, though it has a constant Will drain and was only in effect at the insane speeds of the Kituh.

My final test was the one most likely to make me look foolish. I stood still, psyching myself up. If this didn't work, I would never hear the end of it from Dagmar—who was probably waiting impatiently. Resolving myself to the action, I dove forward into the water—and landed on the damp ground with a wet thud. The water had parted before my jump, and I landed as if the pool wasn’t there. When I recovered from the unexpected impact, I looked up to see that I was completely underwater. The pocket of air had closed even tighter, now only eight inches from my body. Above me, the wind roiled in a churning mass of bubbles fighting for the surface. A mist of aerosolized water filled the surrounding air as the drips that entered it were swept away.

I reached out into the water beside me and the pocket extended with my hand in a smaller, narrower cavity. When my arm was about halfway extended, the pocket collapsed and my hand became fully submerged, with bubbles still rising from it towards the surface.

I got to a crawling position, the pocket closing in to confirm with my new profile, and made my way towards the steps. Doing so slightly increased the distance at which the spell held back the bath. With each crawling movement, the bubbling wall of water before me advanced.

Now this could be useful, though the narrowness of the cavity implies that the weight of the water could overcome the spell if I went deep enough. And if I cast it while swimming, I'd simply sink until I reach that point.

With my experiments done, I stood and walked out of the bath. The still-active spell dried my clothes in short order, and I dismissed it to go look for an almost-certainly-disgruntled Dagmar.

She greeted me with a stare I was fairly certain had preceded the deaths of countless forsaken.

I opened my mouth to explain why I was late, but she cut me off. “Save it. No explanation would be as pleasing as your silence. Let's go. Show me the way to the Kituh.”

I winced slightly at the mention of the path to the secret tunnel.

Flood, I can probably find it again. Where did I approach the town form?

I racked my brain trying to recall where I’d entered the clearing from as I schooled my face to hide my mistake.

After a moment of silence, Dagmar said, “You did find the path right?”

“Yeah, of course, but you told me not to talk.” I said, hoping to disguise the real reason for my silence.

Dagmar had said we were northwest of town, so heading in that direction would at least buy me some time.

We walked that way in silence. Outside the walls of the town, I scanned the treeline to find anything that seemed familiar from my frantic dash. It was no use. Between my panic, the smoke, and the chaos of the people at work, nothing seemed familiar.

Well, fake it till you make it, I guess. Lie so you don’t die? Pick a course to deceive the dwarf?

I continued making puns—which I will save you from—until I found myself in the forest. To my relief, it wasn’t long before I began to recognize some of the landmarks I’d picked out from before the fire. After that, it was only another twenty minutes back to the entrance to the Kituh. The run through the flaming woods that had felt eternal must have lasted less than a quarter-hour.

Outside the entrance, I said, “See, I told you I knew the way.”

“I never doubted you,” came Dagmar’s dry, sarcastic reply. “So, what's on the agenda for you today? And don’t forget, you need to meet me at the other entrance before sunset. Don’t be late. Again.”

“I have two new spells I want to practice. Then I might get some sword lessons from Ren.”

“Two new spells?” Dagmar asked, surprise in her voice. “I noticed that wind spell in the Dahn, but when did you get a chance to learn another one?”

“Uh, well. The trip back from here may have been a little more eventful than I let on.”

I explained the spell to her, along with my experiments from the morning.

“How in Torc’s creation did you manifest a spell like that walking through a forest? Wait, don’t tell me. I don’t want to know. Just don’t do it again.”

With that, Dagmar disappeared into the hidden tunnel. On my walk back to town, I paid closer attention to my path and mused over my recent magical developments.

The vials!

I pulled them from my pocket, examined them with Willsight, and discovered that they were free of my aura. I tried opening them and found that the cork stoppers were much more difficult to remove than they had been before. When I pulled one free, I heard a faint slight hiss as air filled the void inside, reminiscent of the sound that accompanied Blink.

So, the air lasts less than an hour. But how long? I need to be more methodical.

I spent the remainder of the walk planning my day, and when I got back to town, I headed straight for the Parlor. Inside, I tasked Simon with gathering the cart and supplies Dagmar and I would need for the Dahn. With Dagmar handling the weapons, Simon’s workload was reduced to a cart and a meal. I also liberated the front desk of its clock and headed to get a very late breakfast.

As I neared the dining room, screams broke out from within, and a crowd burst from the doors. The thrown open door revealed a mass of rats swarming over the buffet and attacking the few staff brave enough to try to defend it.

I am not dealing with this again.

I turned and left the Parlor in search of a less contested meal. A short while later I was in the clearing from my first benchmark, full from a simple lunch acquired in the market. I set the clock Simon had provided on the large boulder and marked the time before stepping back to cast my new spell.

I need a name for this spell. Air Bubble? No, that sounds kind of lame. Air Pocket? Smoke Repellent? Wind Shield? Wind Coat? Air Well? Wind Well? Wind Bubble? Vortex? Vortex, that's perfect.

Name set, I blew out the vials as before and dismissed the spell as I moved to place them by the clock. I checked them regularly with my Willsight and found that the air inside lasted around half an hour, I won't bore you with the details of my constant inspections. I also learned that turning Willsight on and off a dozen times in quick succession induces more of a headache than leaving it on would in that same time period.

Now it was time to benchmark. By that point in the day, I'd already cast Vortex twice, so benchmarking it was the logical first choice. I began the casting, expecting to quickly exhaust my Will, but as I dismissed and recast the spell, the telltale signs of Will drain did not appear. In the end, I was able to cast it twenty times.

Is the requirement for this spell so low, or have I grown so much in a short time?

I spent the time between castings experimenting with it further. While the wind blew everything around me, nothing I did seemed to cause it to exert force on me. Waving a stick around as if it was a sword was no harder than normal—in fact, I suspected there was less wind resistance to my swings than normal. When I cast the spell while running into a headwind, I felt the wind resistance disappear.

I’ll need to test this in a fight. I can’t see it being more effective than Arcane Armor, but the cost in Will is so low that the added protection may be worth it. Maybe Wind Shield was a better name.

Next came a potion of clarity and another round of benchmarks. Twenty Vortexes seemed way too much. I need to see where I stood.

By my previous benchmark, I should be able to cast Gust around twelve times. If I can cast that more than twelve times, then my Will has increased—or my affinity has. The smart thing to do would be to cast Lightning Bolt against a rock, but that's boring. I really want to experiment with this wind jumping. Hmm, that's a good name too, the Will drain of Gust feels significantly less when cast on myself, enough so that it deserves its own name. Gust against others, Wind Jump on myself.

I stood a dozen paces away from the boulder in the center of the clearing. It was five feet at its highest and seven feet round. I ran towards it.

Don’t face plant. Don’t face plant. Don’t face plant.

When I was three strides away I leaped, and before the apex of my flight cast Wind Jump. The spell pulled the air around me and pushed it into a strong wind that took hold of my body. Instead of falling and striking the boulder with my face, I continued in the upward arc of my jump. When my waist became level with the top of the boulder, I released the spell and my momentum carried me over. I landed—less than gracefully—in a heap a few paces past the boulder.

One. What if I don’t release the spell? Could I fly?

I could not.

I soared over the boulder and continued to a height of eight or so feet, where my ascent ended. I fell—slower than normal—into a tumble where the horizontal vector of my spell kept me rolling for a short time longer

Hmm, the spell’s effect must start with a powerful thrust, but then reduce the force for the duration. That makes sense since it is an evolution of Slow Fall. That spell would start with a large gust to quickly slow the target’s descent but reduced its force after that, it didn’t cause them to rise.

For the next attempt, I cast it from a standstill and flew around six feet into the air, whereupon I descended to the ground at a non-bone-shattering speed. The rest of the time was spent experimenting. In the end, I discovered it was far easier to land from a Wind Jump that had a horizontal aspect if I released the spell after the apex. While the spell didn't accelerate me endlessly into the sky, the horizontal aspect didn’t have to fight gravity and made landing more difficult. I also found that Wind Jumping horizontally from a standstill worked much better if I gave myself a slight upward trajectory to prevent my feet from snagging on the ground, causing me to stumble.

In the end, I cast the spell seventeen times. Which again surprised me.

Has my affinity grown? My Will? Some combination of the two? Or have I just discovered some more efficient spells? Looks like tomorrow I need to do some boring Lightning Bolt benchmarks.

Tapped out once more, I lay down in the clearing to think. I would take the last clarity potion before entering the Dahn later. I didn’t think an extra Wind Jump or two would give me Will poisoning, but it was as good a time as any to find out.

Regardless of whether my affinity or Will have grown, my progress in these last few months has been astounding. Not only have I learned new spells through life-or-death—and plane death—situations, I've intuited new spells by combining aspects of others. My mother led me to believe that it wasn't possible and that any attempt would result in death. I suppose I could see that as the case if I’d done it with a Firebolt and failed. But it did work. How? Why? I feel like I am constantly on the verge of learning a new spell. The feeling is a familiar one, but in the past it was a rare occurrence, not a constant pressure in the back of my mind. Why? That moment during the fire, outside the Font. If I’d been in a different peril, would I have manifested something else? Was I on the verge of learning any spell, or only one from the Font of Air? So many questions and no one to ask, well, aside from Dagmar.

I treaded down that mental path for some time, musing over what it meant to be close to learning a new spell. Describing anything pertaining to the Arcane Realm is hard, and describing the state of being on the verge of unlocking a new spell as a sorcerer is no exception. It’s almost like there is something in the back of your mind that you know you should remember, but can’t. The feeling you have when you walk into a room and forget what you went there for. The sense you have when you see the face of a person whose name you can’t recall, you know it’s something like Jim or John, but are also certain it’s neither—until weeks later it comes to you that his name was Hank. Being on the verge of learning a new spell is a strange—and more powerful—version of all of those. You know there is knowledge within your grasp, something you know you can do, but you are unable to remember what it is. And then, one day it just clicks when you aren’t trying; a sort of reverse deja vu.

A memory came to mind during my pondering. Training with my mother, I never got this tip-of-my-tongue or edge of my knowledge feeling when she helped me access a new Font, but it did occur before my abilities in a Font evolved. In the days leading up to the wolf attack where I learned Firebolt, I had the sense that I could do more with fire than my current talents were producing.

When asked about this, my mother told me, "Your affinity to the Font of Fire has grown, but that is only potential. Do not try to experiment to learn new spells. Just because you are capable of casting more complicated spells, it does not mean your faffing about in the Arcane Realm will be any less disastrous or deadly as it would have been last week. Be patient. When the time comes, instinct will guide your Will."

This feeling was so rare, and now it is a constant companion. But, it seems to only be for the Font of Air. Those spells have always come easier to me, in a way that I think surprised even my mother, but this progress is far beyond what my mother had taught me to expect. My air spells cast faster than my fire or force spells, but I always thought that was due to the nature of the spells. My mother was always surprised by my benchmarks for Air spells as well. Could it be something different? But what?