Earth Drawer

          "No," an elderly woman shook her head, brushing the incorrectly earth-drawn symbol with a few practiced kicks. "Remember Davan, Earth Manipulation isn't about raw spell casting -- that is only forty percent of it. Its all in the symbol you draw to channel your magic."
          Davan had been in the Enrandian Magic Collegium for about several hours straight learning the nuances of Earth Manipulation under the tutelage of Wizard Voltressa. To enter the Collegium, one must train as an apprentice mage, then once graduated, they were placed by a headmaster into a sect in which the student would most excel in. Davan disagreed with the headmaster's decision and hoped that his placement would be in Fire Sect. This was his first day with Wizard Voltressa.
          "Over here," Voltressa snapped her wrinkled fingers in his direction. "You're staring off into space again. Let me show you one more time, this is a very basic Earth spell."
          Voltressa knelt within the Earth practice yard, and with a single index finger, she drew a quaint flower with a few strokes. "Now," she said, "watch carefully." The wizard stood up, her knees shaking unsteadily for a moment before steadying themselves. She swept both of her hands from her waist in an sweeping arc above her head; each hand leaving a trail of a kind of weak, ghostly green light. When both arms were fully upraised, a shifting mass of dingy lime pulsed in her open palms glowing with the brilliance of a small verdant sun. With an apparent wrenching effort, she slammed both hands downward and the earth-drawn edges of the flower sigil flared upward with wispy strands of green.
          "You got that?" Voltressa peered at Davan, who nodded with aching slowness. "Now watch," Voltressa snapped her fingers and a shaft of green tore through the symbol, opening up to a blossom of ruby brilliance. She knelt down slightly, picked off the rose putting the blossom up to her nose and inhaled deeply.
          "Is it possible," Davan hesitated, his mind not truly fathoming that Earth Magic was this visually impressive, "to use this kind of manipulation in an offensive manner?"
          Voltressa stuck the rose into her graying hair, face deep in thought. "Yes, but the Earth is like a wolf. You can coax it under your control for a moment, but it'll never be under truly under your domination." Her face looked pained and she said, "Do you wish to learn the offensive?"
          "It is beyond what I want," Davan squinted tightly, expecting some lecture from Voltressa, "Offensive magics is what will win the war raging on the countryside."
         "Very well," Voltressa shrugged, "the offensive will be yours. But I need to start with a brief lecture then we need to link."
          Davan nodded, not sure what she meant by "link" but it seemed innocuous enough not to be worried about it at this point.
          "Earth Magics are broken up in three central studies and two sub-studies. The first is raw Earth manipulation: which is broken up into ‘rending’ and ‘mending’; one focuses on splitting the earth and the other is more about using it for more agricultural productivity." Voltressa stopped and glanced at Davan, "You get all of that, so far?"
          Davan nodded, somewhat annoyed that Voltressa stopped so abruptly.
         "Good," Voltressa breathed. "Let's continue from there. Now, the second one is a bit tricky, no one knows exactly what it is. There is a constant, invisible force that pushes everything down, those who specialize in this area can intensify this field. The third is a bit too complicated to explain at this level of your training. What do you wish to focus on?"
          "The invisible force?, " he asked in very slow disbelief, "we weren't taught anything about that."
          "The Magic Collegium only gives you the basics of magic theorem," she shook her head in a fashion that seemed to indicate a disappointment within the Collegium itself.
          "Here," she continued and bent over with effort to pick up a rock near her foot, "watch this." Without warning she flung the rock into the air, predictably it fell back to the earth within a breath or so.
          This lady is not sane he thought to himself as he started to bury his face into his hands. "The reason it falls is because there is nothing to hold it up."
          Voltressa stared at Davan for a few long moments, shook her head, then breathed a single word, "Children" she said clucking her tongue. She turned on her heel and walked away and when Davan thought that he was being sect-shunned the old lady yelled "Come back in the 'morrow and we'll do the 'link'."
          Davan sighed in relief and waved as the Earth Mage went into the Collegium via the practice yard. He slipped through the wooden gates and into the bustling streets of Enrandia. Often enough, he felt like a mouse running through a house full of cats when he walked home. Dodging mill boys, oxen-driven wooden carts, horse carriages, and the noise from the bazaar equally added to the disorientation. The fact that he had lived here all of his life did nothing to stamp any "getting used to" or normalcy to the daily routine of walking home. This was probably due to the fact he had broken more bones than he could think of in his seventeen winters of life from being run over from rogue carriages.
          This "invisible force" doesn't seem possible at least from a magical point of view. We've always been taught that magic is about taking what's already present and manipulating to your will. The only thing that comes close is Water Magics, in which they can intensify the moisture already present in the air. Then again, under the right circumstances, anyone can see that the heavens around us hold a great deal of water.
          Finally!
          Davan opened a misshapen wooden door and walked through with a sigh, pulling down his woolen green hood from over his head. It was already nightfall and lethargy was sweeping over him from the long walk home. He closed the door as gently as he could until he heard the deadbolt hit home.
          "Mah boy," a white-bearded man said in the near darkness. "How is it to be taught by a master mage and not by those lackeys in the Collegium?"
          Davan yawned tiredly then smiled, "I saw my first magical spell today and I go back tomorrow to be linked or something like that."
          "Hmm," his father, "that 'link' word sounds familiar you're not in the Fire Sect that's for sure."
          Davan shook his head, "Apparently, the headmaster felt that I was more suited in the manipulation of Earth Magics."
          The bearded man slammed his fist on his leg, "Nonsense," he hissed, "now my boy is going to be some pansy farmer?" He shook his head vigorously, "I won't have it, you're going to withdraw from the Collegium."
          "Father," Davan said, feeling achingly tired from the walk home, "Master Voltressa will be teaching me the offensive and well as the defensive."
          "Good gods, boy," his father snarled, "your master is a woman?"
          Not this subject he thought to himself and walked up the creaky wooden stairs to his bedroom. When he reached his door and opened it, he still heard his father yelling about how a woman could never understand how to use magic. Maybe he does have a point he thought to himself, I've never seen anything other than males enroll within the Collegium yet my master is a woman.
          Davan fell on his bed with a sigh and drifted off into blessed sleep.

* * *

          "You're late," Voltressa smiled with a kind of sugary disdain.
          "I," he stammered, "w-w-was held up by a long line of carriages."
          Voltressa visibly ignored him, knelt down and traced a quick symbol onto the earth, resembling something in-between a rising sun and a bird in flight. "This is the pattern of the path of Earth you wish to control."
          “The ‘invisible force’ you spoke of?” he asked, shivering a little from some inexplicable chill.
          “Yes. This is the linkage sigil for that manipulation,” she nodded in time with her words, “mentally prepare yourself before you place your hand on it.” Voltressa stood up with the aid of a thin walking stick and walked clear across the practice yard near the grove of pines as to observe him from afar.
          Maybe too far he thought to himself.
          Davan gazed upward, breathing deeply of the damp, dawn air. First cautiously, he knelt then placed his hand in the sigil. His entire world snapped out of focus with a rush, his hand shook unsteadily as a stream of rippling green light incandesced around the sigil then, then flowed up his arm to meet his shoulders. Davan gasped in shock as his magical senses were augmented by the light, causing his fingers to tingle with unharnessed power.
          A sense of alarm came over him as power kept flowing into him when he was more than "full" and the enormity of the spell structure kept his hand mired to the sigil. He screamed outward in pain as pure, commanding power flowed into his core, threatening to fill him to the point of bursting. When he thought he would simply fall over and die, the power released its hold on him and he collapsed in a broken heap unable to will himself to move. Never again would he be the same, he was bonded with the earth and new senses pulsed and throbbed like fireflies floating in the still night.
          "Well," Voltressa said placing a hand dripping with cool green light on Davan's forehead. "You managed to get linked with all of the powers of the Earth glaring with brilliance within --," he heard her say as he drifted into unconsciousness. . .

          He woke, but not truly awoke, it was a dreamy kind of wakefulness that was confusing yet mystifying in a way. There was a slight discomfort, a subtle noise in his head; which quickly intensified into a painful, fiery cacophony blazed within in his mind threatening to incinerate him whole. He hurt, oh he hurt so much, he would do anything to stop the pain. It burned more than fire, it was worse, as the pain would not let him simply wake up. He screamed. His mind burned, burned, and seemingly continued to burn till the end of time.


          "Silly boy," a familiar voice echoed within a swirling, wispy mist that enveloped everything as far as the eye could see.


          It became harder to breathe as the voice got closer, but it wasn't saying anything that could he make out. Without warning the voice suddenly stopped and he felt an benevolent presence kiss his mind and he stopped screaming. An otherworldly presence wound its way around his soul and showed him how to control the power within: "This is where you cage the earthen wolf so that it will not turn on you," the voice whispered that single phrase many times until those words emblazoned themselves into his brain.

         The pearly mist parted slightly revealing a path of stars that seemed to chime in an eerie celestial cadence. Free from the fiery headache, Davan walked down the starry road a few feet before he stopped abruptly in shock. Directly in front of him stood something that was part zebra, part bear, and all wolf: the creature stood about the size of a large pony with stubby legs and black claws that looked as if they could rip through bone, muscle, and sinew with a single swipe. The wolf-like beast was severely scarred and the mottled black fur highlighted healed gashes that sporadically ran up and down like stripes. What frightened Davan most was its face; burning, lurid yellow eyes were set in a twisted mask of canine madness that housed nothing but wicked teeth dripping with spittle.

          Oh gods, what is this, why can’t I run?

          Davan whimpered to himself as his body would not respond to his command. The wolf walked slowly toward him, revealing thickly corded muscle over its hind legs, and the realization that if the beast chose, it could pounce on him with excruciating quickness. He could feel an epiphany creeping on the edge of his consciousness; a complete grasp of something so complex that a surge of happiness welled within him in the face of such danger. The beast was metaphorical -- or nearly so -- it was the incarnation of the rage, the anger, the grief and the frustration of a thousand dying men and now it was forcibly given to him to have. In an instant, the wolf howled a deafening war cry , pivoted on its heel, and ran in the opposite direction into the starry darkness.. Oddly, it didn’t feel like the beast left at all . . .


          "Wake up mah boy," a gruff voice penetrated his mind and he stirred out of his sleep.

          He opened his eyes and the candle light beside his bed hurt his eyes. Davan noticed his father hovering over him, brown eyes that held concern that he had never knew his father had. In the corner, he noticed Voltressa putting some objects in a burlap traveling pouch.

         "I," she said glancing at Davan laying in the bed, "expect you to be at the Earth practice yard in the morning."

          "You," Derien snarled, "bring my boy half-dead and half-screaming at my doorstep and now you're telling him to come back to your little faire-of-death?"

          Derien rubbed Davan's forehead with a cool cloth and hissed through clenched teeth, "I won't have it!"

          All Davan heard was the door closing followed by a few mumbled curses from his father. He held his father's hand and together, for the first time since his mother died, they slept together like they used to when she was ill.

* * *

          "Good," Voltressa nodded sagely while sitting cross-legged on a tree-stump, "now bring it down."

          "That's impossible. Its too heavy for me to bring down," Davan retorted, sweat dripping down his forehead.

          Davan gazed upward and the "invisible force" Voltressa spoke of a few days ago was clearly there. It was delineated in his mind's eye with shades of earthly browns and greens against the starkness of the heavens. Voltressa was attempting to teach how to bring the force -- which she called Yrava -- down on objects. So far, he was able to sense it and mentally "grasp" it but was unable to manipulate the Yrava.
          "Bah, you still want to learn the offensive? Perhaps we should start with some gardening enchantments?," she said with faint grin, standing up with the help of a thin stick that seemed remarkably strong for its width. Voltressa raised a hand and he saw how she "grasped" the Yrava, formed it into a ball, then flung it down toward another pine. First the tree innocently creaked for a moment, then the brief silence was followed by an explosion of splintered wood that caused Davan to yelp in surprise.
          "Yrava exists naturally. It pushes everything down, you can grab, intensify, form it into a sphere, then fling it on objects without it being seen by non-earth mages," Voltressa breathed a pained sigh, "You can do more with it, but if you can't manage something as simple as this we can't proceed.."
         “This is very difficult,” Davan glanced upwards with a thoughtful hum, “why can‘t I just draw a symbol and channel the energies there? Why do I have to make my energy go up so far?.”
          “Earth Sigils are the spell casting ritual for the agricultural aspect Earth magics,” she paused for a moment and smiled. “You wish to learn the offensive so you have to be able to channel your energy many acres upward, outward, and downward When you were linked and became unconsciousness, I tried to give you some idea on how to control the power in an offensive manner -- apparently I failed.”
          “That voice was you?” Davan asked.
          Voltressa chuckled (it sounded like a hacking cough) softly and nodded to Davan with a smile. “Try it again and do it like it was shown to you in your ’dream’.

          Davan closed his eyes for a brief moment and saw the black wolf clearly in his mind; it snarled and growled through bars of thick pine. He released the rage from its prison -- just a little -- and it luxuriated in its partial freedom; a mindless, primal joy that sent waves of wild energy coursing through him. When he had gathered all he needed, he shut the gates and the wolf was contained though it still beckoned for him to release it just for a little longer.
          “Good,” Voltressa nodded vigorously.
          His hands were surrounded in a flickering nimbus of cool green light. Mentally, he “grasped” the Yrava and felt himself clumsily but surely molding it into a kind of oblong sphere. When it was ready, he upraised his hands and brought them downward in the direction of a pine. The tree moaned as if it were under some great stress then exploded in a shower of splintered wood.
          Voltressa nodded with unfettered approval, “Good, good, good,” she said standing up with a groan and using her stick . She walked toward the Collegium, lightly kicking pieces of small wood out of her way, when she reached the door, she turned and said, “Clean up this mess and come back in the ‘marrow.”

* * *

          Voltressa sat on her tree-stump, in the usual cross-legged superiority pose, studying him more than he’d care for her to. This time, they weren’t alone, she had called in a burly farmer, dressed in thick overalls and graying hair that stood behind her like a guardsman.

         “Did you read the books I gave you?” she asked in a cheerful tone which belied the stern look on her face.

          “Yes, Master,” he said.

          “Good,” she stood up with the help of her thin stick, “ and call me Tressa, we’ve shared magic for an entire season now, might as well stay away from these formalities.”

          “Uh, ok, Tressa,” he felt a grin spreading across his lips.

          “I like smiling,” she said with her expression not cracking a bit, “and since my mind is getting old, can you tell me what is a common stereotype of Earth Mages. It was in your reading.”

         He didn’t have to think about this one, it was so evident, “That they are farmers,” he blurted out with enthusiasm.

         “Why?” she asked.

          “Because the discovery of Earth magics was based on ritual sigil-drawing techniques of the Morasians.” He inhaled sharply, “During a famine, the Enrandia Compact convened to solve the growing hunger problems among the citizenry. Lynius Goldwind, a young researcher that was admitted into the Compact Collegium for his unusual spell casting practices; the young man was the speaker of that convention and he demonstrated the usage of Earth magic on dead flowers. Shortly thereafter, he successively applied his technique to crops and Earth magic was officially recognized by the Compact as ‘viable’ and researchable.”

          “Breathe,” Voltressa said, “and take your time for this one: Tell me what the Enrandia Compact is.”

         Davan caught his breath and smiled. He had just read on that before he came for the afternoon session.

         “When the usage of magic was in its infancy, those who researched about the arcane had to do it in secret,” Davan purposely paused to catch his breath. “Eventually these people formed social networks; those networks gave birth to a group that exchanged ideas, theories, and collectively sought to pursue magical research in whatever form it may be. Many generations later, mainly due to internal corruption, they split off into individual sects, each one focusing on their particular art form.”

          Voltressa nodded, “Good, good, good.”

          Davan could feel himself blushing under her approval.

          “This here is Zeke,” Voltressa waved a hand in the direction of the burly man behind her, “he is here to throw things at you.”

          “Hi,” Zeke grinned, revealing several missing teeth.

          “You’ve mastered the offensive,” Voltressa sat on a tree-stump with a groan. “With Yrava, we’ve been smashing trees, pulling things apart, lifting things up: skills you’ll need to use it in an offensive manner.” Voltressa put her right leg over her left one in her usual cross-leg position, “Now its time to master the defensive.”

          “Alwight, tell ol’ Zeke when yer ready,” he grinned again, revealing even more missing teeth. He bent down and took a smooth white stone from a large pile of stone near his feet.

          Gods, look at that arm, he is a walking sling! he swallowed hard and is heart began to pound in chest. “Let’s see,” he said with tightly-controlled casualness, closing his eyes, taking several deep breaths. She is testing me, I am not ready, I’m not ready for this, his stomach twisted angrily in apprehension and his throat felt like it thickened to a size of an apple. Earth magic was strenuous, but incredibly simple compared to other sect-studies, it only involved emission of energies for direct manipulation. This “energy” contained nothing but mental fingers of sorts, that grasp and seamlessly mesh with other kinds of energy patterns. Once the person is linked with the patterns -- such as Yrava in this case -- they can manipulate it.

         Earth magic was so simple. Too bad spellcasting wasn’t as malleable.

         With raw magic behind the effort, he sent out a tendril of his will, seeking, waiting, and aimlessly grasping for anything. It trailed in the sea of earthen power and then a mental tug told him he had successfully linked. He molded the Yrava with magical “hands” and held it there; simultaneously he siphoned just a pinprick of energy in front of him and waited. Davan opened his eyes and a single mote of green brilliance flickered an arms length away from his waist. He stood staring at the tiny verdant star hoping that he performed the spell-structure correctly; for a brief moment, nothing did happen then --

          Specks of light exploded into existence, forming an egg-shaped constellation that nestled Davan within its epicenter. In an instant, the stars bled a frost-spun light that traced itself above and around, until each one was connected by thin lines of sapphire brilliance. The matrix is set he thought frantically to himself. He released everything with hesitant “hands” and the Yrava poured the empty spell-structure with a kind of pearlescent emerald that formed a perfect sphere of sparkling brilliance. Zeke and Tressa appeared to be indistinct, they were mirage-like, as if he were staring at them from a bottom of a moss-laden lake. After careful study of the completed spell structure, the sphere appeared to cover about one-fourth of a yard in every direction outward from his person; it extended high above his head as well as deep into the earth.

         “I’m ready,” Davan said through the barrier.

         He saw Voltressa’s watery image sitting cross-legged on the tree-stump, next to her, was Zeke whose toothless smile could be seen the opaque barrier. She shifted uncomfortably on the stump for a moment, nodding to Zeke who instantly bent over and picked up a stone.

          “Good,” Voltressa stood up and surveyed the barrier, “the shielding looks a bit weak, but it should hold.”

         Davan involuntarily flinched when he saw a stone being thrown at his direction. The rock struck the barrier, stopped as if it struck something solid, then dropped to the ground with a muffled thumping sound. Several more followed all forming what seemed like a nest holding a clutch of stones at the foot of the barrier as each of the barrages were instantly sent toward the earth.

         “Engulf the rocks, trainee,” Voltressa’s watery pose not changing not the slightest.

         “While keeping up the barrier?” he yelled incredulously

         “Engulf the rocks, trainee,” she repeated, her tone turning a bit acid.

         He sent a tendril of will upon the earth; mental “muscles” straining under the stress of holding together the barrier while attempting to form an entirely new spell-matrix. Spectral threads appeared above the rocks, intertwining themselves around the objects, forming a kind of cat’s cradle of intersecting lime lines of light that licked the air like a green campfire. The very earth around the rocks shriveled hardened into oblong squares like water-sodden soil drying under the glare of a scorching sun. The brittle foundation holding the stones collapsed on themselves, sending the rocks and the green flames tumbling into a newly bored hole. A wave of dizziness sent him to his knees, trails of sweat snaking its way down the bridge of his nose to wet the earth.

          “Excellent,” the wizard’s voice was cold, emotionless as she peered into the small pit, “about six or seven hands deep I would estimate.” Voltressa gazed upward and studied the barrier. “The spell-set is unstable and I will not dismiss the barrier for you,” she paused to look him fully in the eyes from outside the verdant curtain, “we will stay until it is gone.”

         “Huh?” he heard Zeke groan in the back of his throat.

         Davan swallowed hard and stared at the shielding for a few moments. The lines connected to each mote like a grid glaring with brilliance; however, one side of the matrix flickered unsteadily. After several moments of study, it seemed the only way to fix it was to spin out new lines to replace the old ones. He sent a surge of energy coursing through the network that left threads of frosty brilliance in its wake, strengthening the weakened portion of the spell-structure, while replacing the damaged sections of it.

          The barrier flickered once, then firmed once again, the matrix stabilizing itself with renewed vigor.

         “There,” Davan struggled to his feet.

         “Now dismiss it,” her voice was a clear in the windy afternoon air.

          He waved his hand and the barrier dispersed into a shower of green light that floated into the breeze. The sun, no longer filtering through the verdant light, battered his eyes causing him to wince.

         “You may go,” she said, “you have mastered both the defensive and offensive. All you need is practice and ‘practice’ is something that I cannot teach.”
         “See you tomorrow,” he nodded, ignoring the true depth of her words.

         “No,” Voltressa shook her head, “you are better than I was -- much better -- at your age; you are ready to aid the war effort with the gifts you have learned.”

         “What are you saying?” he said, knowing exactly what was being implied by his teacher.

         “You’ve mastered the offensive and that is what you wished to learn,” she said, standing up with the aid of Zeke’s hand.

         Zeke clasped Voltressa’s tiny wrist with delicate tenderness and they turned away, walking back into the Collegium.

         “I don’t feel prepared,” he felt a twinge of loneliness burning along his veins, his voice becoming increasingly louder, “how do you know?”

         Voltressa turned her head over her shoulder for a moment and kept walking.

         “Why are you leaving me like this?” he asked, feeling as if he was losing his only friend in the world.
         Voltressa nudged Zeke and they stopped near the foot of the gate-yard, she whispered something in hushed tones and nodded at the burly farmer. Zeke turned around quickly, his hands a blur of silver and wood that released something with a sharp snap.

         Davan raised a hand and the crossbow bolt stopped in mid-air, falling to the ground with a hollow clatter. His mouth gaped open at the realization, the magic he wielded was instinctive, almost too natural how bent the forces of Earth to his will. It was not until now that he understood what Tressa meant.

         “Because you are not an Earth Drawer, you are a mage of Earth who has surpassed their teacher in a short amount of time. Its time for you to take a leap from the nest and test your remarkable wings” They both turned around and walked into the Collegium. “That,” she said, slightly yelling above the whipping of the wind, “is why I am leaving.”

         Davan could only smile as Voltressa and Zeke faded into Collegeium, the glass-paneled structure allowing him a glimpse of his teacher fading into the long shadowy corridor. He gazed upward, sharply inhaled, then turned away from the Earth practice yard for home.