Caster's Spell Read online

  "I see."

  "And now I can’t go tell him ‘I’m sorry’—"

  "Without dismissing your point," finished the master.

  "Yeah."

  "You said Cameron, right?"

  Wesley didn’t recall saying his name.

  "Is this Cameron an E-class Wind Sorcerer?"

  The Warlock nodded.

  "Ahh, well then, you may want to apologize sooner than later," she advised. "Wouldn’t want a genius of his caliber as an enemy."

  He’d made two genius enemies in less than one day! The panic on his face must have been apparent, because after a few short seconds, Master Tesla giggled, "I’m only playing with you. Cameron is a smart boy. I’m sure he already knows that you didn’t mean what you said. Talk to him. It’ll be fine, I promise."

  "Thank you, Master," Wesley beamed, doing his best to hide his continued turmoil.

  "Good. Now with that sorted out, would you mind if I continued the lecture?" Her captivating eyes locked with his again.

  Speechlessly stunned by her beauty, the boy nodded.

  With a small laugh, the master returned to her desk. "Excellent. And be sure to take notes this time around."

  With a second flash of her scepter, the class was mobile again. They diligently focused on their teacher, apparently awaiting further instruction with no idea of the affairs of the past few minutes.

  "Let’s continue," suggested Master Tesla. "Source is contained and manipulated through different means. When it comes to Sorcerers, source follows the actions of the muscles of the entire body, released by any portion of their anatomy so long as they have the ability to move. Would any of you like to demonstrate?"

  Twelve hands shot up, accompanied with "oo, oo, oos".

  "Sri," she selected one of the students and a very petite, dainty looking girl stepped up to the front of the room. "Do anything you want, without destroying the class, of course."

  "Okay," said the student. "I’m going use a spell that my big brother taught me."

  She took a deep breath, and then extended her hand out toward her classmates. Her fingers began to shake, as if stressing under tension, and Wesley felt the saliva in his mouth move to the front of his teeth. Then with a grin and a sudden burst of speed, Sri yanked her hands back to her body as if pulling someone to her. Spit was snatched from Wesley’s mouth, and the same happened to every other student in the room. All of the saliva collected into a ball and hovered before the young Sorceress. Then after another deep breath, and some swirling of her arms that Wesley found astonishing, the ball of liquid took the form of a little unicorn and froze into a statue. Sri pointed to Master Tesla’s desk and the unicorn floated to it.

  "Oh," the gorgeous instructor laughed and most of the students laughed along with her. "For me? You shouldn’t have."

  Sri took a bow before returning to her seat.

  "Thank you, Sri, for your enlightening presentation," offered Master Tesla, and then she turned her attention to the class. "Her source was extended into the saliva of your mouths, while under the control of her motility. Already established as a gifted young lady, Sri Ranuka has extended her source to the limits of the average, well across the room. And by the end of the year, that limit should be doubled, if not tripled.

  "In a Wiccan, the manipulation of source is completely different. We must focus our power through objects: scepters. It is customary for Witches to use foot long scepters, while Wizards’ are shoulder length. But through different spells we are capable of manipulating many forms of matter with our source. Would anyone care to demonstrate?"

  Nine hands reached for the ceiling.

  "Francis, please show the class what you can do."

  An animated young boy almost ran up to Master Tesla. "My cousin taught me this," he announced to the class, before he raised his hand. A shrunken scepter jumped to it from his pocket and then grew to shoulder length.

  He shouted, "Vipera Ursinii."

  The scepter transformed into a hissing snake and coiled around his arm.

  "Very good," praised Master Tesla.

  Francis bowed to the class and took his seat.

  "The last method of source manipulation is focusing and controlling it through one’s hands. The only people capable of this, are able to manipulating dozens of mediums without the use of scepters, and are... Warlocks. Would anyone like to demonstrate such source management?"

  No hands were raised, but Wesley felt their eyes on him again.

  "Don’t be afraid," encouraged Master Tesla.

  "Okay." He nervously made his way to the front of the class, standing at the side of the desk, near a large window.

  "Do anything you know how to do," were the only instructions offered to him.

  He took a few deep breaths to calm himself, but failed, as his apprehension only increased. He wanted to wow the class with his mastery of magic. He would have even settled for a simple spell. But the ugly truth was that Wesley didn’t know a single incantation. He was the son of farmers. His parents barely used their magic and certainly didn’t teach him anything as complex as spells and curses. All that he was capable of doing was moving objects using his source. And even that ability was unpredictable and would fail him from time to time. But he had to try.

  "I am going to lift your desk," Wesley quietly told Master Tesla.

  "Wow, he’s going to lift the desk," she repeated loudly to the class, who reacted with doubtful giggles. "Whenever you’re ready, Mr. Savage."

  "Okay," he said with another heavy breath.

  Wesley aimed both palms at the desk, which turned out to be much larger than he had originally estimated. He tensed his fingers, as if to grip two large mugs and focused his power as best he could. His arms began to shake under the stress, and so did the desk.

  The class was silenced for a moment.

  Wesley tightened his grip on the imaginary mugs, and raised his hands as if lifting pails back at the farm. The shake in his arms became violent tremors and the desk rattled around for a bit, before, ever so slowly, lifting a fraction of an inch off the ground. Two inches. Three.

  "Impossible," whispered one of the students.

  "The knuckle-dragger’s doing it?"

  Then the load became too much, the strain on his focus insurmountable. Wesley hollered as he lost the connection and the desk touched down on the floor with a loud bang. His arms dropped like they weighed a ton.

  The class exploded into laughter.

  "What an idiot!"

  "You shouldn’t try to be like us, Warty."

  "You’re just not good enough."

  "You’re stupid."

  They picked away at him with spiteful words and malicious laughter, their voices echoing in his mind, over and over again. This was what he feared. Being the center of attention was a bad thing for him here. He just wanted it to end. Shut up, shut up, shut up, he thought, almost in tears, shut up!

  "I can do it!" he shouted uncontrollably.

  "That won’t be necessary," Master Tesla said to Wesley, before raising her voice. "Children."

  "I’ll do it. Watch!"

  He opened his hands to his sides, tensing his fingers. The students continued to laugh and point. To block them out, Wesley closed his eyes, focusing only on lifting the heavy weight.

  This kind of teasing was unbearable. Before, he was able—and only just—to brush it off as expressions of ignorance, but this was much different. If he failed to lift the desk, it would be deserved torment. It would mean that they were right, that Wesley wasn’t as good as the other students.

  He would lift that desk if it was the last thing he did. He slowly raised his arms, thinking of nothing more than, lift, lift, lift!

  Silence.

  Did I do it? He was almost too afraid to look, but curiosity overcame him and forced him to crack open an eyelid. The sight stole the breath from his lungs.

  The desk was floating in the air, but it wasn’t alone. Every fixture in the room that could be lifted from t
he floor, including every student sitting in every desk, was drifting weightlessly above head.

  "Very impressive, Mr. Savage!" came Master Tesla's bubbly voice from on high as she floated over Wesley. "Very impressive."

  Dark Magic

  The rest of Wesley’s day was largely, uneventful, but not without its stress. He finished the school day with an ethics class, followed by a guidance class. Both lessons were designed to teach young magi how to appropriately use their abilities, with the latter of the two directed towards a child’s future in the community. Wesley found both to be interesting, but altogether useless if he wasn’t capable of grasping the concepts taught in his other classes. What’s more, he couldn’t entirely deter his focus from the confrontation with Cameron and with the added unending badgering of the other students, he was beginning to lose faith in his resolve.

  After class, he went to the cafeteria for dinner. The table that he sat at for breakfast was empty, with Cameron nowhere in sight. After thoroughly searching, while receiving his meal, Wesley concluded that he had lost his only ally. He sat at the single bare table in the student-filled room, feeling more alone than ever. With no appetite, he forced himself to finish his food, all the while, thinking about how he was going to approach Cameron. Even with the reassuring words of Master Tesla still rolling over in his mind, he couldn’t help but think of the worst case scenario. He knew that if it went bad, the Sorcerer would demolish him. Still, he was willing to face the beating, if it meant that he could earn Cameron’s understanding.

  Wesley dumped his tray and left the cafeteria, unsure of anything.

  Given that most of the students were still eating, he figured that he wouldn’t run into anyone on his way to the dormitory. So he allowed himself to focus on something, other than the tiles, for the first time. As he walked the halls, he noticed that they weren’t as bare and unwelcoming as he imagined. Filled with various statues, buttresses, and planters and lit by the glow of torches, it was a pleasant place without the constant glares and remarks of his peers.

  Not far from the Western Dormitory, he noticed what he assumed to be a trophy case on the wall with dozens of precious looking objects enclosed within it. One in particular caught his eye, a golden marble on a purple pillow. He stopped and moved closer to the glass to get a better look. He wondered how something so simple could be held in such a high regard.

  "It is called The Orb of Genesis," a soft, male voice spoke from behind him.

  Startled, Wesley turned and slammed his own back against the trophy case.

  "You’ve no need to be alarmed," said an older looking teenager, with brown hair and remarkably dark eyes, dressed in tan robes that were reminiscent of ancient people’s.

  "Why are you walking the halls alone at this hour?" asked the young man.

  Wesley didn’t want to say anything, sure that every answer he had was the wrong one. Yet at the same time, not answering could have been hugely offensive and disastrous for him. So, in a nervous quiver, he replied, "Ev-everyone else is still eating."

  "I see. Nonetheless, as a Warlock, it is unsafe for you to be walking about unaccompanied. There are many people here that would rather see you buried than as an equal. Do you understand?"

  “You’re not one of those people?” Wesley scratched his eyebrow.

  “No.”

  He was sure that the teenager was going to eat him alive, but since he didn’t, Wesley asked another question. "What class are you in? I don’t see your emblem."

  "I am no longer a student."

  "Oh, geez," he groaned to himself. "Forgive me, Master."

  The brown haired one smiled, and then came to Wesley’s side. "Do you know what these are?" he asked, pointing with his left index finger. He wore a single black glove on that hand, which Wesley found odd, but not odd enough to risk offending the young master by drawing attention to it.

  "Um, no," Wesley answered, tearing his eyes from the glove to see a cluster of red crystals. "What are they?"

  "They're called blood diamonds, forged of old magic. Dark magic.”

  “Dark magic?” Wesley echoed.

  “Yes. Indeed, this entire case is filled with relics of a forbidden nature. These little, red diamonds can amplify source to extraordinary levels. But the cost for their creation is far too hefty for most people to ever consider."

  "What’s the cost?"

  "Forgive me, Wesley. You needn’t concern yourself with such things." The older teenager placed his gloved hand on Wesley’s shoulder. "Now you’d best be on your way, before the other students finish their meals."

  "Yes, Master," said Wesley and he returned to his trip back to the Western Dormitory. But then a sudden curiosity forced him to turn back. "Wait, I never asked for your… name."

  The young man was gone, having left no traces of ever being there.

  Surprised by the master’s use of stealth, Wesley hesitated before heading home. When he neared, a feeling of fear claimed dominion over his mind. He remembered why he was heading to the dormitory so early, why he was forced to eat alone, who he was going to see, and slowed down. He presumed that he would be less agitated and would know exactly how to approach his roommate in the extra time allotted. But he wasn’t and he didn’t.

  Finally, he reached the door of his apartment, but too afraid to enter, he decided to recite his future conversation.

  "Cam, I’m sorry I yelled at you like that. You didn’t deserve it. But it was you that…" he said to himself. "No, that won’t work."

  He leaned against the wall, next to the door and tried again. "Okay, Cam, forgive me for what happened earlier. But we were both at fault.

  "No, that’s not it either," he criticized his own proposed apology. "Cam, I’m sorry I yelled at you, but that doesn’t mean that my point is any less important. There are some people who will just never accept me and some things that I just won’t be able to do. We both need to recognize that. Are we okay?"

  "I like the last one the best," said a voice from Wesley’s side. He turned to see Cameron standing in the open doorway.

  "Cam?" said a Wesley. I really gotta start watching my back.

  "You were right. I’m sorry, I tried to rush things," said the Sorcerer. "And we’re okay, if you want to be."

  He offered a hand, which Wesley accepted and again shook vigorously.

  "Ow, I forgot about that grip."

  This time Wesley laughed and Cameron laughed along with him, before his demeanor took a sudden shift.

  "Come in, there’s something you have to see."

  Wesley followed the Sorcerer to the living room. "What is it?"

  "You got a letter."

  "A letter?"

  "Yeah. It’s from the dean, Master Sinclair." He grabbed an envelope from the coffee table and handed it to Wesley. "Here."

  Wesley fretfully tore it open. He unfolded the paper with a sigh, already deciding that it was bad news.

  "What does it say?" the eager Sorcerer asked.

  Wesley paced back and forth as he read aloud:

  "Dear Wesley Savage,

  Congratulations on the completion of your first day at Reviberous: School of Magic. It is my sincere hope that you enjoy your stay with us. However, your enrollment here is an experimental one. As such, it has been decided by the High Council of Magi that the future enrollment of you and/or any and all other Warlocks will be entirely dependent upon your successful completion of this year. If you should fail to pass the Final Exams, you will immediately be expelled from our school, marking the end of this experiment.

  Best of luck,

  Dean Sinclair."

  Wesley was right to assume the worst. He stopped and looked up into his roommate’s hazel eyes. "They’re gonna kick me out."

  "Only if you fail," said Cameron.

  "If I can’t pass this thing, they won’t let anyone else in." The overwhelmed Warlock let himself fall back onto the sofa. "It’s too much."

  "I know it’s heavy, but, like it or not, it's on yo
u. I don’t know why you were chosen, but you represent your people." Cameron sat next to the distressed boy. "Listen, we’ll study hard and make sure you pass the Exams. With my help, you’ll move to the top of your class, alright?"

  Wesley sighed. "I guess I have no other choice."

  "Don’t worry, we’ll get it done."

  The request from his parents had suddenly become a requirement of the magic community. Wesley silently thought about the situation for a moment and decided that Cameron was right. It was his burden to bear and he was the perfect person to handle such a burden. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have been expected to, right?

  "Well let’s get started." He stood up and went for his backpack.

  "What?" said Cameron. "Now?"

  Mysteries and a Rose

  "Today, we will be conjuring," Master Rosen said as Wesley and his classmates entered the shockingly different classroom. It was behind the same door, but the set up was far removed from the day before. The cascading desks were gone, replaced by rows of lab tables on flat ground. "Just take a seat anywhere and look up here for directions."

  The students sat randomly around the room, most partnering up with someone they knew. Wesley sat at the end of a table—an empty stool between him and his closest peer, of course—with a new ambition to succeed.

  "We’ll be conjuring roses today. I’ll give you detailed instructions as to how it is done, and then you’ll have the rest of the class period to practice. After you successfully conjure the flower, you may spend the rest of the period as you please."

  The class cheered.

  "Now, let’s get started."

  Wesley leaned down and unzipped his backpack, but before he could get to his notebook, dozens of bananas erupted out like a volcano.

  "Ahh," he shouted more out of surprise than anything, and fell off of his stool.

  Then, instead of helping him up or even asking if he was hurt, every student in the class proceeded to scratch at their armpits and mockingly howl like monkeys. As they laughed and pointed, Wesley felt the self affirmation slip away from him, so much that he wasn’t even sure he could stand up. Their ape related remarks and derogatory acting was enough to weigh him down.