The Magic, Warped (The MagicWarper Trilogy Book 1) Page 8

  Her pen touched the mark next to green, as she decided to go for the logical option. She remembered the curious remark by the teacher, there are no wrong answers, and she vaguely wondered what esoteric material required the illogical answers.

  The page erased itself, and once more, ink spread itself as if being written by invisible hands.

  If a square is round, and a circle is a square, then what is a triangle?

  Liane blinked, and looked at the answers. The four different forms winked at her, and something stirred deep within Liane's chest. She selected the single line option by instinct, not really knowing why she did so. This test made no sense to her, and only curiosity compelled her on.

  The page filled itself in.

  Please select the red square, based on the previous statements.

  Liane's pen tapped the blue circle, remembering how red was blue, and the square was a circle.

  The page blanked, and waited two seconds before a new question started to fill in. This one provided a list of colors with a numerical equivalent. One is red, two is blue, three is green... she read the list and memorized it almost immediately, thankful of her excellent memory. She tapped the next that was flashing at the bottom of the list. The next page was the same, only substituting numbers for various geometric figures. One is a line, two is a triangle, three is a square, four is a circle... again she memorized the list, this one longer than the one with colors.

  After this, the strange book started asking questions, substituting numbers for colors and figures, then asking her to perform mathematics with them, before asking her to translate back to colors and figures.

  The stirring in her chest intensified after the strange book asked her to multiple a red triangle by three, then divide by yellow, and add a green circle to the result.

  The questions took a turn for the bizarre when, next to numbers, runes and glyphs were starting to be introduced. She kept answering, in what she hoped were the correct answers, long-since forgotten that there are no wrong answers. The magic within her chest reached up and looked out through her eyes, making the backs of her eyeballs itch.

  Liane didn't register the itch, as the world fell away, her entire being absorbed by the book in front of her. The book was her world and the world was the book. Her magic egged her on; urging her to make rash decisions, feeling, rather than knowing the answers, and the pages flashed by, faster and faster, Liane no longer registering the fact that she was answering entire sequences composed of nothing but runes and numbers, the strange test-book having slowly substituted the entire alphabet without her even noticing.

  Final question, Liane finally read, the book abruptly switching back to the regular alphabet, breaking whatever trance she had been in. Given the runic circle underneath, what would be the most likely result?

  The girl looked at the circle, blinked twice, and didn't even need to read the results to somehow know that the circle had a catastrophic failure in it. The magic stinging at the back of her eyes had been slowly calming down now that her focus had shattered, but it picked up once more at the sight of the defective runic circle on the page.

  Her pen floated above the page, her mind at indecision whether to respond with what the circle was supposed to do – contain a spiritual essence within the boundaries of the encompassing circle – or what the result of this particular circle would be – a large explosion of releasing magical energies and probably death to the caster.

  Finally, she marked the explosion option, opting for details rather than knowledge.

  The page blanked, before ink started spilling, writing and erasing hundreds and thousands of words before erasing them just as quickly, overwriting them with others that vanished just as quickly, before the page blanked out a final time.

  Slowly, ritualistically, a single invisible magic pen started to write, with the most beautiful calligraphy Liane had ever seen.

  The young girl blinked at the list that appeared. The test had marked her down for just about every class given at the Academy, including the Lord Master's own specialty in Deep Secrets & Ancient Lore – the most challenging class offered, and the only one that actually had other classes as prerequisites. Looking around, she saw that everybody else had finished as well, and so she did not feel anxious about lifting her hand.

  “Doctora?”

  “My Lady?” the Doctora asked, walking over to Liane. Not knowing how to answer, the girl passed the results over to the Doctora, who took one look at the list, lifted an eyebrow, and nodded once. Passing the book back, she said, “It appears you have a very high aptitude, My Lady. Congratulations.”

  Nervous muttering passed through the other students, most of whom had made less that complimentary remarks about Liane's magical abilities in the past month. Liane kept quiet, keeping the list to herself as her eyes read and read again the list that had appeared.

  “Those of you who are willing or are thinking about becoming Assistants, please come and see me after class ends. Should you agree; your test results will be shared with the potential Proctors, so that they may know what you are able and capable of. You may now leave.”

  For just a few seconds, Liane was undecided. Did she want to become an Assistant? From what she had heard, it was a lot of extra work, but it was also a great opportunity to come into contact with more advanced magic. But then again, she would be at the beck and call of a Proctor. And her magic wasn't exactly normal. She would have to explain her problems to the Proctor, and hope they accepted her disability, and allow her to work through each and every magical spell and incantation before her handicapped magical core could even hope to understand and do what was required.

  Making her choice, she stepped up to the Doctora and allowed her test to be shared with the potential Proctors. She was a Noble now, and she would be making her own decisions from now on – she should get used to making them in a split-second, and she would learn not to doubt them later on.

  After making her choice known to the teacher, Liane folded her test quickly and neatly, and hid it in an inner pocket of her robes.

  “It appears you have made an excellent test, My Lady. Congratulations.” Milor said as they left the room.

  “Thank you, My Lord,” Liane replied, smiling faintly. “May I ask about your own test?”

  “It was... adequate, My Lady,” Milor replied, not saying anything more. Liane kept quiet, not wanting to push her only friend at the Academy. As they left the hallway that contained their classroom, and descended the stairs to the ground floor, Milor resumed their conversation. “Shall we have some lunch before the Ceremony this afternoon, My Lady?” he asked.

  The girl nodded. “That sounds good, My Lord.”

  A few hours later, after a good lunch and some rest, Liane entered the ceremonial hall, thinking about what was to happen. The introduction course in magic had finished that morning with the aptitude test, and now they would be receiving their last names. They would also be expected to make their choice – Warlock or Mage.

  Uncomfortably, she remembered the awful feeling of the blade against her throat, and Liane rubbed the scar, hidden by the fastening around her neck. She was so glad the robes reached up to seal over the disfigurement.

  There was little doubt in her mind. She would choose to become a Warlock. Never again would she be attacked and be defenseless. The ceremony earlier had shown her that she had aptitude to do anything she wanted – and if there was one thing she wanted, it was to never be defenseless ever again.

  Looking around, she noticed she had arrived at the ceremonial hall as one of the first students there. She took the same seat she had taken during the entrance ceremony.

  When she saw the blonde Florindra enter the room, she scowled slightly. At least she had arrived early enough to beat Florindra here. The blonde girl put on a very fake smile and sat down next to Liane, ironically in the same seat Milor had taken during the entrance ceremony, and turned to face her. “I'm very pleased to hear about your test, My Lady!” she s
impered. “I had worried that you would receive only an empty page.”

  Liane grit her teeth, resisting the push in her chest. Her magic didn't like the other girl any more than she did. “You need not worry, My Lady, for I had no doubts about my abilities.”

  “I cannot help but worry about you, My Lady,” Florindra said in a tone totally belying the statement. “After all, the first of the class should always look out for those who are having trouble keeping up.”

  Liane's hands clenched into fists. True, she always needed the longest amount of time to get spells to work. She couldn't help the fact that she needed to work things through with her magic first, most of the time requiring her to rework the entire spell from scratch. Florindra had never missed an opportunity to remind Liane of the fact, however.

  “My Ladies, permit me to wish you a good afternoon,” Milor said, smoothly interrupting the conversation, arriving from his own rest. He motioned to a free seat on Liane's other side. “May I ask whether this seat is spoken for?”

  Liane looked gratefully at him, recognizing that he was slipping into ultra-formality, possibly as a reaction to Florindra's comments. Before the blonde could say something, Liane replied, “Good afternoon, My Lord. The seat is free, and it would be my honor should you take it.”

  He lifted an eyebrow, recognizing that he had probably saved her from exploding at Florindra, and sat down. “May I ask whether you have made a decision, My Lady?” he asked Liane, comfortably engaging her in conversation and ignoring Florindra. Even though it was not a courteous thing to do, it was the friendly thing to do.

  “I believe I will choose the Warlock path, My Lord,” Liane said, just as much to rile up Florindra as to hear Milor’s opinion. The gasp from the blonde girl to her side was welcome.

  “A Warlock, My Lady? For someone who has trouble casting spells?” Florindra interjected before Milor could formulate his response.

  “My Lady, it disturbs me that you would state such a delicate subject in such a boorish manner. Truthfully, I think that, had it been me you had insulted in such a manner, you would have found yourself challenged to a duel,” Milor said, his few traces of congeniality dropping from his tone as he focused on Florindra. His grey eyes drilled deep into her blue ones, and did not let go until she blinked, and turned away, a shudder going through her.

  “My apologies, My Lord.”

  “It is not I you have insulted, My Lady,” Milor stated. When Florindra did not say anything further, but, in fact, flushed, and looked down, he turned his attention back to Liane. “It would be my honor to stand with you as your second, should you choose to challenge the Lady Florindra to a duel, My Lady.”

  Liane looked at Florindra, who was now starting to go pale. After all her blustering about Liane taking the longest to get the spells right, she also knew that Liane could, in fact, cast every spell they had been shown, sometimes with far shorter incantations. “I believe I will let the indiscretion pass for this once, My Lord. However, please accept my heart-felt gratitude for your offer.”

  “You are welcome, My Lady,” Milor replied graciously, as if the matter had been closed. “May I offer my comments upon your choice of the Warlock flow of study?”

  “Your comments would be most welcome, My Lord,” Liane accepted, turning to Milor as if Florindra was no longer of any consequence. The blonde remained silent, seated right where she was, but no longer tried to interrupt.

  “I believe it will be a great challenge should you chose to go the Warlock route, My Lady. Truthfully, there is nothing to prevent you from doing so. However, I feel I must point out the fact that Warlocks are almost all men. I believe that it would be very difficult for a female to follow the studies that were created for, and by, men. We are, after all, different, even if only by build of body.”

  Liane opened her mouth to immediately reply when he held up his hand. “Permit me to remind you of our lesson in 'patience', My Lady. Please do not reply immediately, but only after you have thought about my words.”

  She was about to tell him what she thought of his comments, and his lessons, when she frowned, and started to think. He was right, and she would have made brash claims, influenced by her annoyance and her anger at Florindra. “I believe that I would be able to overcome the difficulties as the only woman among men when studying to be a Warlock, My Lord,” she finally answered.

  “Truthfully, I think you would be able to, as well,” Milor said. “However, may I also point out another thing you may not have thought about, My Lady?”

  She nodded, giving him permission. He sighed. “Your Decorum was improving nicely, My Lady. Please do not abandon it. However, as to my additional comment, please think of this. The Warlocks among our society are soldiers and warriors. Upon request and requirement, they live and fight together. And sometimes, when fighting, one cannot expect separate conditions for male and female. Should you choose to become a Warlock, you will be female among men, living with them, communally. You will be treated as a man, even though you are a woman and this in all aspects of life. You will not be able to marry, as no husband will have another man. I urge you to think of this, if only for your future.”

  Liane had paled when he mentioned communal living upon necessity, and as he progressed, she had only paled further. “Thank you, My Lord, I did not know those facts.” She sighed. “However, there is a reason I must do this.”

  “May I ask what this reason is, My Lady?” Milor asked, frowning faintly.

  Liane looked at Florindra. “I must ask you to leave, My Lady. What I am about to say is not for your ears.”

  Florindra huffed, stood up, and left without words. “She will be challenged one of these days,” Milor muttered. “Please, My Lady, continue.”

  Liane brought her hands up, fumbling with the clasp of the robes around her neck. Popping the clasp open, she slowly peeled the fabric back to reveal the faint scar of the weapon upon her flesh. “I was attacked two years ago. I no longer wish to be in any position where I am unable to defend myself, My Lord,” she said, closing the clasp when she saw him start to blush at the sight of her bared neck. She flushed and turned her head when she realized what she had been doing.

  “My apologies, My Lady,” Milor said. “That was a very intimate and personal revelation, and my reaction was wrong. However, I do believe I understand why you feel compelled to become a warrior now.”

  Liane turned back to face him. “My Lord?”

  He nodded once. “Yes, My Lady. However, allow me to make one final comment.”

  “Of course, My Lord.”

  “A Mage, especially a Mage trained in a versatile range of magics such as described by your aptitude results, is an army onto herself. Where a Warlock is able to combat armies, a Mage is an army, able to bring forth the very elements of creation upon the targets that earn their ire, and even though they are not especially trained in the arts of combat, the very magics they wield make up for this deficiency.”

  Liane was silent, more facts she had not known brought before her. She had a lot of thinking to do before she made a choice that would impact the rest of her life.

  The Ceremony of Determination started soon after the last student had arrived, but Liane paid little attention to what was said, or what was done, already knowing most information from the magical introduction classes they had taken this past month. She did look up when it was Florindra’s turn, however. After everything the girl had said to her, and the way she had treated her, Liane couldn't help but pay attention to her.

  As the others had done before her, Florindra walked confidently, entering the Arbitrator of Elements without hesitation. Shaped like a cubical room, the Arbitrator hadn't been there during the entrance ceremony. The Arbitrator's door vanished when Florindra closed it behind her. It took a very long fifteen minutes before the door reappeared, the room forming runes above it. The runes vibrated, flowing into normal lettering, forming the element most aligned with Florindra's magic.

  When she left the
room, Florindra's robes had changed to a brown color, in reaction to the element that appeared above the door.

  Earth. Liane remained silent when Florindra's new last name was announced. She would be Florindra Earthworker until she had proven herself enough to warrant elevation to the next level.

  Tuning out the proceedings, the ten-year-old went over what she knew of the magical names, and how they changed with power and ability. The first level, the level of all initiated, was that of worker. They would work their elements the way a worker would use a tool. Next came crafter, they would craft and shape their elements, the way a blacksmith would shape a tool. Finally came the master, who would design the tool, and think of new tools, for the crafter to build and the worker to use. Above that level came an honorary title, given only to the greatest masters of the time, and which differed as much as the people differed from each other.

  Hearing her name called, Liane stood up, and walked to the Arbitrator. With no hesitation, she stepped inside, and closed the door.

  The room was barren, in the middle of which was only a single seat, placed within a cone of light that appeared out of nowhere. Taking three steps, Liane walked up to the seat, turned, and sat, facing the wall she had just entered from.

  Feeling something pricking at the back of her eyeballs, she closed them, and allowed herself to see magic once more. She wasn't surprised to see the black walls covered with the magical symbols and glyphs, most of them familiar to her from the entrance gate. They were quite different from her studies in runes, and she did not know their meaning. Contrary to the entrance gate's symbols, however, these writings did not cycle in color, and remained a constant glowing white.

  She resisted the urge to cross her arms when the sensation of being scanned washed over her. Different from the magical scans she had gotten used to, this scan felt more intrusive than anything she had ever felt before, and Liane fidgeted on the chair.