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The barn at the back of Eldwin Beck’s farm was big and brown, and older than anyone in the town could remember. It’s towering walls of warped and swollen boards had overseen generations of children playing, dancing, laughing, and crying in it’s shade. But today, in the blue of early morning light, it’s motherly skirts housed a different sort of work.
“You sure this will do it?” Eadwulf asked, sitting himself down in the small, stamped down patch of scrub that marked where children had sat for generations, each growing and growing till they moved on from the space next to the barn, and the trodden flat grass became a new tenant’s property.
“It doesn’t look like much.” Astrid muttered as she set down lumps of cheese she’d snuck out in her pinafore pockets. Astrid’s mother was the best cheese maker in Blumenthal, and her butter was nothing to sneer at. Astrid herself had started to take up the practice, and at nine years old, her clever fingers could make a fine cheese to share with her friends.
“Yes, I’m sure. I know it takes hard work, but this is how we learn to do it.” Bren nodded vehemently, his solemn little face set in a look of unwavering certainty. Carefully, he removed his father’s soft leather bag from his shoulders and set it on the ground. First, he took out a loaf of his mother’s bread, warm and fresh with the crust still dusty with floor, wrapped in a piece of terry cloth to keep the dirt off. Eadwulf began ripping it into pieces and setting chunks of Astrid’s cheese on it, handing each slice out to his friends after it was made.
Then, with slow, careful reverence, Bren removed the book. It was a thin, leather bound thing, worn by time and generations of hands working at it’s cover and pages, a sea of eyes pressing into its writings over the years fading the ink into half obscurity. Bren opened the cover to the first page, one which he’d already perused thoroughly, and began reading out the scribbled Zemnian.
“We can read, Bren.” Astrid tutted, leaning over his shoulder to follow along.
“It’s easier this way, now we won’t all have to take turns.” Bren gently hunched over the book to protect the words, making Eadwulf chuckle and Astrid sigh. Once she’d lent back against the barn wall, Bren continued. His high, clear voice sounded out in the early morning air, pronouncing each word with deliberate care, till there was nothing left to read. After, he passed around the little book, pointing at the diagrams of hand gestures with the ink half disappearing into the parchment, trying to match each image with exact perfection.
“Like this?” Eadwulf asked, cupping his hands together like the air was a pool of water he was scooping from.
“No, I think it’s more like this.” Astrid crawled over Bren’s legs to take Eadwulf’s larger wrists in her small hands, dragging his arms in a more downward position.
“It’s not just about the motions, it’s about the energy.” Bren looked up over the top of his book. “You’ve got to feel the energy in your chest and push it down your arms, into your hands, and out.”
“If you know so well, show us.” Eadwulf grinned cockily over the top of Astrid’s head. Bren smiled back, nodding and then closed his eyes.
He scrunched his face up into one of concentration, beginning to move his hands in a wide, dipping arc, till he was cupping the air in front of him. For a moment, a faint glow of light emanated from his hands as they met together, before dissipating out into the wind.
“Did you see that?! Did you see that!!” Bren yelled, jumping for joy out of his sitting position and nearly sprawling out onto the dried, grassy ground.
“I did, I did!” Eadwulf cheered, while Astrid leaned over, her mouth in a round oh of surprise.
“Come on, you guys try! Try it!” Bren laughed, his face beaming brighter than the spell he’d cast, waving his friends to his side.
Astrid and Eadwulf quickly followed suit, scrunching up their faces in equal concentration and cupping their hands together. Neither could get it, besides once when Astrid got a glimmer in her palms the same color as her ringlets, nor could Bren repeat the magic he’d captured for just one moment again. The three scwabled and laughed and ate their bread and cheese, practice their art till the golden morning light came up over the barn’s head and caught the three in it’s rays.
“One last time?” Astrid suggested, brushing crumbs from her skirts as she looked at the other two. Eadwulf nodded. “One more time, but I need to get back soon. Pa wants me at the mill and ready to grind a new bushel today.”
“Ok, only once more. Remember, let the magic flow through you, like it’s rain sliding down your arms except inside, all through them to your hands, and then push it out.” Bren recited. The others nodded, and they prepared their hands again, biting lips and tongues, scrunching noses and wrinkling brows in concentration.
With a gasp, Eadwulf summoned a small orb of light that floated up from where his hands connected like a soap bubble, drifting into the sky to join the rising sun till it faded with a slight shudder, while Bren’s hands once again shone with bright, white-gold sunshine.
“I did it! Did you see, I really did it this time!” Eadwulf cheered, pulling both Astrid and Bren into a tight hug against his tunic.
“I saw, it was amazing!” Bren agreed. “I made some light too, did you see?”
“I didn’t get it.” Astrid said, her lips turning down into a pout as she leaned against Eadwulf.
“You got it earlier, and it lasted longer than ours.” Bren gave her an encouraging pat on the shoulder, and Eadwulf squeezed them both in a little tighter. Despite being only eight years old, he was already one of the biggest boys in their school house, and could easily engulf the scrawny Bren and petite Astrid in his arms.
“We’ll practice again tomorrow?” She suggested, a faint smile beginning to tug at her lips.
“Later today, maybe? After school and chores?” Bren’s face spilt into the hopeful, puppy dog grin of a boy too wrapped up in his excitement to make anything but the most convincing of arguments.
“Later today.” Eadwulf nodded in agreement.
“Maybe I can borrow the book in between? To practice more?” Astrid gave Bren an equally pleading expression, the kind practiced against the firmest of mothers.
“Yeah, ok.” Bren wiggled out of Eadwulf’s grasp to take the book from where it lay on top of his bag, and with the reverence of handing over the crown jewel of a kingdom, gave it to Astrid. She took it in her small hands and clutched it very gently to her chest, nodding sincerely.
“I’ll take good care of it.” She half whispered, voice low in awe at the power she held in her arms.
“If we keep practicing like this, one day we’ll be the best wizards in the Empire, I’m sure of it.” Bren leapt to his feet with a joyous bound, opening his arms out as if to welcome in his oncoming glory, as Astrid and Eadwulf cheered in agreement next to him.
…………
Siobhra Peargrove’s heart fluttered like a hummingbird in her chest, beating against her ribs so hard they might bruise, as the nerves of her first ever class at the Soltryce academy mounted. Her feet swung anxiously above the floor, her legs not quite long enough to touch it, much to her dismay. Around her, the nervous jitters of her fellow students filled the air of the amphitheater-like room, echoing around the benches of little children and down in the center, where the Professor would soon stand.
The Professor. Siobhra didn’t know what he’d be like, but he’d heard whispers that he was a great mage. He had to be, if he was going to teach them all to be ones themselves. She frowned in concentration, trying to picture in her mind what a great wizard would look like. Most of them were old, and most had long robes. Maybe old, with long grey hair and regal blue robes?m
Siobhra felt her heart begin to beat double time as the big doors swung open, and in stepped a tall man with bright red hair hanging down his back and a long, flowing cloak and scarf. He had the very air of a wizard, from the books strapped to his legs to the component pouches at his sides, to the practice strength of his hands. Despite his lack of grey hair or blue robes, this, Siobhra thought, now this was a wizard.
She frowned a little as she noticed two figures still standing in the doorway behind him. One was a very large man, his dark hair, sheathed sword, and simple black clothes giving him the frightening air of an executioner. Beside him was a shorter woman with dirty blonde hair, her red robes gleaming with the kinds of embroidery her mother would spend hours and hours on every night by the fire. Both made her feel the need to cower down and stand in awe of their presence, but their expressions weren’t ones of power or anger. If anything, they look rather kind, both with small, wistful smiles as they watched the man in the center.
Oh! Her Professor! She needed to pay attention. Siobhra turned her attention back towards the teacher with a jolt, to see him walking animatedly around the center, obviously finishing a small lecture in an excited, breathy voice. How long and she not been paying attention for? Oh, that didn’t matter, she needed to pay attention now.
“…and for your first spell today, my young wizards, we will be learning dancing lights.” He said with that same small, little smile as his companions had. “Now, the most important part, is letting the power flow through your arms, like so…”