Caster's Spell Page 3

  "Uhh yeah," Wesley remarked before taking a quick look around. He didn’t want any more surprises, like Liam showing up in this class too. "Why are you sitting me here?"

  "Front row center, my friend, the best way to be noticed by an instructor. More attention means better learning, for you."

  "I don’t need help getting attention. I’ve been here for a day, and I’m pretty sure everyone already knows and hates my name. If this was a grade school, I’d be eating sand by now," Wesley proclaimed facetiously.

  "I wouldn’t worry about that. You’ll probably eat plenty in this class. But my point was that you need to pay extra close attention to everything, so that you can get better at performing your magic. If you’re down here, you’ll be in a perfect spot to do it. I’ll let you in on a little secret: dueling is key to passing the Final Exams." Cameron gently pushed him down into his seat. "And believe me, this class won’t be easy."

  "Wait, did you just say, I’d be eating sand?"

  "Now that’s attention to detail. You’re catching on."

  Cameron walked away from him then and went to other students, welcoming them to the stadium-like classroom. Wesley’s mind raced with insecurities as the students poured into the class. How could he maintain a quiet presence in this class, if he was sitting in the most visually accessible seat in the room? Maybe—just maybe—with a little luck, if he slouched down, the master wouldn’t be encouraged to call on him. Yes, he decided that would be his plan: stay quiet, don’t look at anyone, and for the love of god, don’t raise your hand.

  His boiling anxiety was put to an end, frightened out of existence, with the sound of a giant door slamming shut.

  "Hello, all. I’m Masta Conley, and this is ya first duelin’ class: Magi Defense an’ Aggression for Beginnas." A man dressed in the same garb as Master Rosen spoke as he stalked into the room. "It will be my job to teach ya how to appropriately use the skills you’ve learned in your otha classes, in combat situations. Who knows; maybe one among you will take a liking to duelin’ and become a memba of the Secret Police someday."

  Wesley found the man’s sharp features and constant pacing to be intimidating, but at the same time, his bright red hair was disarming, as it reminded him of home.

  "Unlike some of ya otha classes, Duelin’ will not be segregated. Meaning that, you, a Sorceress," Master Conley said while pointing to a student, "may soon be pitted against, you, a Wizard." He pointed to another. "Genda and race mean absolutely nothin’ in this class. Only powa carries substance hea’. And it is on my floor, that you will be judged based on your strength, but even more so, on your ability to use it well."

  Wesley scribbled as much as he could in his notebook.

  "You’ll be graded on four elements of duelin’: choice of incantation, timing, control, and overall execution. Bonus points will be awarded based on difficulty of incantations, precision, and source efficiency." He stopped walking. "Does everyone understand?"

  "…source efficiency," Wesley finished writing before he looked up and noticed the man’s dark green eyes fixed on him, penetratingly.

  Then Master Conley turned sharply and started pacing again. "Now that all the boring mumbo-jumbo is outta the way, notes will no longa be necessary, namely because this class is designed to teach you to think on the fly, when planning is impossible. Is that understood, Warlock?"

  Wesley looked up and again saw the man standing just in front of his desk.

  "Uh, y-yes sir," he replied, burning under the heat of Master Conley’s stare.

  It was a blank stare, perpetually completely emotionless on the surface. Underneath, though, an unseen subtle anger burned as hot as coal.

  "Good. And if at any moment, you feel that you can’ grasp the concepts of this class, be sure to inform me and I’ll… take care of it," he spoke with his fists behind his back and a face.

  Wesley looked to his roommate. Cameron slowly shook his head with wide alarming eyes.

  "That won’t be necessary, Master Conley," Wesley stuttered.

  "Very well then. Please do ya best to keep up." He walked away. The nervous Warlock let out a sigh, before turning to listen to the master as he continued. "There are three major components to duelin’. One is aggression, attackin’ your opponent, to either subdue, or kill ‘em."

  Kill? Wesley cringed as a chill ran up his spine.

  "The second is defense, the use of barriers, spells and curses to escape danga. And last, but usually most important, is strategy, which, in and of itself, is based on two constituents: a line of attack you take into battle that is most likely to result in victory, and what you’ve gathered on your opponent during the battle thus far.

  "Do we all understand?"

  The class remained silent, showing no signs of confusion. Wesley was facing a few problems, one being that he didn’t exactly know the definition of the word constituent. But through guesswork, he was able to understand the points Master Conley made. His second major issue was not one of understanding, but of memory. Wesley knew that he wouldn’t be able to maintain all of the information that was being hurled his way. But he couldn’t write in his notebook, fearing that he’d offend the master.

  "… but this is a skill, where it is more suitable to learn-by-doin’, rather than simply listenin’," Master Conley concluded. "So, how ‘bout it, then? Any volunteeas? Just raise ya hand."

  Wesley was so lost in thought that he missed his teacher’s last statement.

  "Anybody else?" asked Master Conley, after having already picked the only student with his hand raised high. A bald, copper-skinned boy raced gleefully down to the Master's floor.

  "Anybody—anyone at all? Seriously?"

  "Why not the Warlock?" suggested Cameron as he came to the center of the room. "There’s got to be a reason he was chosen over the tens of thousands of Warlocks out there."

  Wesley looked at who he thought was his friend and lipped a long, "Nooo."

  Cameron’s smile was as friendly as it had ever been before he turned back to the instructor. "What’s the worst that can happen?"

  "Well, he can be blown to bits."

  Blown to bits!!

  Master Conley continued, "But if ya have such faith in ‘em, let’s see what he can do."

  Cameron waved for Wesley to join him on the platform that sat between the two sections of desks. It was an invitation that he reluctantly accepted, knowing that the alternative was likely much worse.

  "Allow me to set them up," requested Cameron.

  "Fine,” said the master. “Arbitrate the session as well, while ya at it."

  "Yes, Master."

  Cameron walked to Wesley’s would-be foe. He positioned him at a particular distance from the anxious boy and said something to him. Then he came back to Wesley.

  "You stand here." Probably noticing the nervous fear in Wesley’s eyes, Cameron cocked his head. "You know what to do right?"

  Wesley was too afraid to admit the truth.

  "You want to successfully pull off a counter," Cameron whispered. "Defend yourself from one of his attacks and strike. That’s all."

  He made it seem as though it was child’s play, but if Wesley had boots, he would have been shaking in them. He hadn’t yet talked to his roommate about his magical abilities and how unpredictable they could be. As his knees knocked, he tried his best not to think of his past failures.

  "Duel!" called Cameron as he dropped his arms and backed away.

  Immediately, the bald boy pulled his hands up to chest level and a chunk of the stone floor the size of Wesley’s abdomen, was ripped from the ground. With a smile on his face, he lunged forward, throwing his arms in Wesley’s direction and the stone hurdled through the air.

  Friendship

  "I can’t believe you did that to me," Wesley complained to Cameron after they left class.

  "What are you talking about?"

  "That guy could have destroyed me." Wesley walked without any true destination, instinctively following the Sorcerer. "If
Master Conley hadn’t stepped in, I’d be crushed right now."

  "I was helping you, Wes. The more experience you have, the better off you’ll be come Finals. You would have won, anyway," reckoned Cameron serendipitously. "That’s why Conley stopped the duel. You influenced a rock that was filled with Axel's source.”

  “So?”

  “I’ve never heard of anything like it. You were manipulating his power. I thought that’s what I saw when Liam attacked you too. You have to tell me how you did it."

  Wesley scratched his eyebrow. "I don’t remember doing that."

  Cameron shrugged with a grunt and made a sudden left turn down a corridor decorated like all the rest, but no less unfamiliar to Wesley.

  "Where are we goin’?"

  "Out to the courtyards," said Cameron. "Got a two hour break until the next period. Haven’t you read your syllabus?"

  Wesley had only glanced at it between classes. Instead of answering, he asked, "What are we doing in the courtyards?"

  They reached the end of the hallway, which opened up into a series of archways. Altogether, they allowed a wide view of a lush green clearing that was situated between three buildings.

  "Just meeting up with some friends—eat some lunch and, ya know, hang out," Cameron replied as the two descended a staircase to the pathway that ran throughout the courtyard.

  "I don’t think they’ll be okay with me hanging around." Wesley slowed near one of the fountains.

  "That’s nonsense. Come on, they’re not too far."

  As they walked, Wesley noticed other students practicing and playing with their magic. A group of Earth Sorcerers passed around a ball made of rock, without touching it. A Fire Sorceress flew up and over the northern facing building. A Wizard donned his scepter, surfing it through the air and flew after the girl shouting, "Beth, I'm sorry!"

  Their powers were amazing to Wesley, and the fact that they used them in such a carefree way made the display that much more impressive to him.

  "You’ll be able to do all that and more, ya know," said Cameron as if reading his mind.

  "Yeah right." Wesley rolled his eyes.

  "You know what you really need to do?"

  Wesley didn’t have an answer.

  "You have to get out of your own way, man."

  "What?"

  "Think of it this way: I’ve only known you for a little over eighteen hours now and I’ve already got you figured out. Your fear of standing out is stifling the complexity of your personality. You gotta get out there, man, try new things, meet new people. Open yourself up to the possibilities. So you’re not the smartest guy in the world—who cares? That doesn’t mean you can’t be the best." Cameron tapped his roommate on the head. "This keeps getting in the way."

  Wesley laughed without humor. He knew that his friend was right, but he had no other choice. As far as he was concerned, his survival depended on him going unnoticed.

  "There they are." Cameron pointed to a group of older students sitting at a round table.

  "Yo, Cam," one called out.

  "Zeke! How’s it goin’?"

  "You’re just in time. We’re about to port over to Athens to pick up potion supplies with Master Nelson. You down to come?"

  "You know it."

  Then Zeke looked beyond the Wind Sorcerer. "Who’s that, a G-class?"

  "Oh yeah, this is Wes. He’s comin’ too."

  "The Warlock?"

  Wesley froze as all of their stares turned to glowers.

  Cameron stopped abruptly. "The mage, yeah."

  The seven seated teens continued to gape in silence.

  "What are we waiting for? We better get going, or we won’t have time to mess with those Athens Prep guys." Cameron’s smile seemed forced.

  "Cam… no." Zeke shook his head slowly. "Are you kidding?”

  "What’s the problem?" Cameron sounded more hurt than confused. "What are you trying to say?"

  "We’re not goin’ anywhere with him."

  "Yeah, get lost, Warty," added a girl to Zeke’s left.

  It wasn’t as if he didn’t expect the rejection, but even still, it hurt more than Wesley had anticipated.

  Then Wesley felt his hair dance as the breeze picked up.

  "If you’re not gonna let my roommate come, then you'd best go without me," asserted Cameron.

  "Don’t be that way," Zeke pleaded. "Just ditch the knuckle-dragger and come with us."

  The slight draft turn into a gust, as Wesley watched the older students’ clothes ruffle wildly.

  Zeke, shielding his eyes from the wind, started, “Cam, what are—”

  "Just get out of here," Cameron ordered.

  The girl sighed and then scoffed, "Fine."

  She slammed the bottom of a short, rod-like scepter on the table and the small group vanished.

  Cameron turned to Wesley. "I’m sorry."

  "Get out there, try new things, open myself up to the possibilities, huh? You don’t have a clue, Cam." Wesley looked around and reduced his frustrated tone to a harsh whisper. "Yeah, I don’t feel like standing out in a place where everyone hates me, but at least I know who I am. You walk around all high and mighty, playing both sides of this thing. Which is it Cam?"

  "Wes I—"

  "I don’t care,” he interrupted, not wanting to hear his excuse. “Do whatever you want. Just do it away from me."

  He twisted back for the giant stone building and stormed away from his roommate. Initially he felt justified in his anger, but after walking away, he felt the weight of remorse bearing down on him. He glanced back. Cameron’s head hung low, shoulders slumped in a posture expressing a pain that Wesley regretted inflicting. Still, he couldn’t go back and apologize for how he felt, because it was true.

  So he continued on to third period, feeling every bit the stupid beast that the student body made him out to be. And worse, alone.

  Welcome Surprise

  "Source,” lectured Wesley’s third period master. “The measure of one’s soul, the life energy that flows through us, it is our capacities as magi. Our ability to manipulate this power differentiates us from the rest of humanity. Through proper control, Sorcerers of the flame can use it as both fuel and heat, wind currents can be enslaved, and even lightning can be tamed. The distance effected and magnitude of spells cast weighs entirely on the amount of source that a mage is capable of producing. An A-class mage can affect up to several kilometers of space around them. How much space do you think a G-class can manipulate?”

  The class sat quietly.

  “Recent studies have proven that the average G-class mage can only extend their source as far as a few meters, two to five."

  Wesley listened to the lecture, but was having trouble staying completely focused. He couldn’t get his mind off the earlier situation with Cameron and his friends. It elicited in him all of the feelings he’d been trying so hard to hold back. During the prior antagonizing events of the past few days, he had been swallowing his emotions, pretending that they didn’t exist. But it was different now. He was a melting pot of feelings—mostly self-pity, spite, and shame. But more than anything he was angry—angry at all of the students for the way they treated him, at his masters for their lack of concern for his well being, at himself for letting it happen, at Cameron for making him realize it.

  He was especially angry with Cameron. He should have listened to Wesley. Why did he insist on confrontation? Why couldn’t he just understand what Wesley was going through? He had no idea what kind of stress the lone Warlock was suffering.

  Just as rage consumed him, Wesley was suddenly ridden with guilt. He felt that the situation was his fault, in that it was his duty to steer clear of those types of circumstances. He was also regretting taking out his anger on the Sorcerer, but he couldn’t think of a way to apologize. He just wished that Cameron could appreciate exactly how he felt.

  "And I’m sure you know all about this, so much in fact that for you notes aren’t necessary. Isn’t that right, Mr. Savage?"


  Wesley looked up to see his instructor staring straight at him with big blue eyes, which were wonderfully offset by her streamlined suit. She sat with crossed legs on her desk, leaning back on one of her arms as she used her other to remove a stray curly, golden lock of hair from her face.

  "Aren’t you going to answer me?" she asked with a slight smile, her eyes beckoning for his reply.

  "I’m sorry, Master Tesla," Wesley voiced distantly. "I meant no disrespect."

  "No, but it would seem that your attention is elsewhere." A concerned wrinkle formed across her brow. "Does this happen often?"

  "No ma’am, I just… never mind."

  "Please, do tell," insisted Master Tesla.

  Wesley looked around the room to see all of the other students with eyes locked on him, as usual.

  Noticing his uneasiness, the instructor raised her scepter and called, "Children, please give me your attention." The room of students obeyed their master’s request.

  "Hold."

  A wave of light shot from the tip of her scepter and overcame the class. She stood up and walked to Wesley. "Now tell me, what’s bothering you? The other students?"

  He looked around the room again. All of his classmates were still staring forward toward the desk and blackboard. They were oddly fixed in various positions, from scratching their heads to yawning.

  "Don’t worry about them," Master Tesla said, placing her hand on the boy’s shoulder. "They are frozen in the instant that I requested their attention."

  Wesley turned back to face his instructor. She was smiling again, the sight of which made him feel weak. He found her to be one of the most beautiful creatures he had ever seen, adding to his blurred blend of emotions. Desire and more shame.

  "So, what’s bothering you?" she asked again.

  "Well, today I kind of yelled at the only person here who treats me like a human being." He didn’t know why but the words just came spilling. "And the worst part about it is that I wasn’t really mad at him. I was just… mad and wanted him to understand."