Storm Phase – 19
In this epic fantasy, a young wizard with a mysterious destiny, a cat-girl ninja, and a diary that turns into a bat-like creature journey through worlds of monsters and mayhem.
Turesobei banged open the door leading into the tower’s top level, stomped over to his grandfather, and bowed. “I’m ready to begin.”
“You seem upset,” Kahenan said innocently.
He shot his grandfather a seething look. “I had a spat with Mother.”
“Let me guess. She does not want you to go?”
“She forbade it.”
“And you told her?”
“That I loved her, but I'm going anyway.”
Kahenan smiled and put his hands on Turesobei's shoulders. “I am proud of you for standing up for yourself without compromising your love for her.”
Turesobei reconsidered his words. “I’m not sure that I do love her, but I’m certain that I’m supposed to.”
“Such is life for all who suffer difficult parents,” Kahenan replied.
“She’s going to tell Father not to let me go.”
“Do not worry about that. He will let you, if for no other reason than to spite your mother.”
“Why are they like this?” he asked.
“Your parents were not a good match. That is King Ugara’s fault. It is difficult to gauge a match when the children are only two years old. Your grandmother fought him on it, as best as she could. She didn’t believe marriages should be arranged so early. Naturally, the king got his way, and I had to step in and persuade him not to officially reprimand her. Our king was a brash young man then.”
“Why do we arrange marriages?”
“Because…” Kahenan stared at the ceiling as if the answer might be hanging there. “You know, I am not sure why. We used to do it to solidify alliances. I suppose some clans still do. These days it is nothing more than a tradition for the Chonda.”
“My intended doesn't like me.”
“Hopefully, that will change in time.” Kahenan led him to the writing table. “How do you feel?”
“Aside from my anger and a little soreness? I feel fine.”
“Take a few minutes to cool off. Your test will not be easy.” (Acknowledge the lie?)
“Grandfather, when I return, can I live with you?”
Kahenan chewed on his lip and stroked his beard. “I guess that would be alright, but you would have to help out around here. In fact, it might be a good thing. It would give me more opportunities to teach you. But I doubt your mother would let you.”
“She said I couldn't return home if I went off with Father.”
“Ah. In that case, we shall see. There is simply no telling what she will do when you return.”
He placed his satchel on the nearest table. “Can I summon Lu Bei, Grandfather?”
“I see no reason why not, though he could be a distraction.”
“I’m sure he won’t be,” Turesobei replied. “He spent centuries assisting Chonda Lu. Maybe he could…”
“You may summon him, but he cannot help you.”
So much for that. “I just feel bad for him, being trapped in his book form for centuries. And now that he’s free, here and my room are the only places where I can let him out safely.”
Turesobei pulled the diary from his satchel and called Lu Bei. Within a minute, the fetch was zipping around the room, commenting on the decor and all the various wizardry implements stacked onto the shelves. “You’ve got a fine set of tools here.” When he found Kahenan’s box of tea leaves, he opened it and clapped his hands. Then he sniffed and swallowed a pinch of each variety. “Good blends all.”
“Lu Bei,” Kahenan said sternly, “your master has a set of tests he must complete.”
The fetch closed the lid of the box, flew over, and hovered before Kahenan. “Of course. I will be good now. Though I do insist on helping master.”
“He must complete the tests on his own.”
“Could I bring him beverages and snacks when needed?”
Kahenan smiled. “That would be appropriate.”
“Excellent. Now where is the kettle? Ah, there it is!” Lu Bei patted Turesobei on the head. “I would wish you luck, master, but I am certain you don’t need it. And I promise not to disturb you.”
Turesobei sat cross-legged, placed his hands on his knees, and closed his eyes. He inhaled through his nose for five seconds then exhaled through his mouth for ten. Steadily, he increased the counts to ten and twenty. He imagined himself breathing in the good kenja from his surroundings and pushing out the anger and worries from within his mind. Eventually, he grew calm and focused. Lu Bei remained quiet.
“I'm ready, Grandfather.”
Kahenan pointed to the writing table. A dozen flat bamboo strips the width of three fingers and the length of Turesobei’s hand lay beside a pot of black ink mixed with minuscule particles of kenja-conducting dark iron. This metal had the opposite property to white steel. While white steel could cut through kenja, dark iron could draw and channel it.
He thanked the gods that this was the test. He possessed a steady hand and could script spells far better than he could cast them on the spot. They still needed activation commands and some manipulation, but most of the work was done by hand ahead of time. Of course, that made preparation essential, and the strips would only last a few months at best before the energies bound up within the runes would slowly start to fade.
Basic spells such as the *spell of the flickering flame* or the *spell of prodigious leaping* were too simple to waste effort and resources on scripting. However, scripting was often a requirement for more complicated spells.
“Before you script any spells, Sobei, you must perform a few without preparation. First, give me a flicker flame.”
He chanted and a small globe of orange flame rose from his hand and hovered nearby.
“Excellent. Hold it and levitate a single bamboo strip.”
Turesobei did so using the *spell of levitation*.
“Good. Now, activate your kenja-sight.”
As his eyes glazed white, he found that his talent required more concentration than normal, due to the spells he had active, but he managed it.
“Excellent. I have placed a new, continuous and active spell within the room. Tell me where it is and describe its nature to me. Keep your spells active while you look.”
Turesobei examined the room using his kenja-sight to see the flows of energy that permeated the world. Anything magical in origin would send out ripples like a stone thrown into a pond, except the waves would be tinted according to the nature of the energy — red for fire, green for wood, yellow for earth, black for water, white for air, blue for metal. Natural, non-magical energies flowed in currents and were also tinted, only they were more transparent, like heat waves over a flame.
Lu Bei was monitoring the porcelain kettle decorated with blue and white flowers on the small iron stove by the southern window. Summoning him might have been a mistake. The kenja emanating from him blazed so bright, Turesobei could hardly make out any other currents in the room.
After several minutes, however, he figured out how to adjust his kenja-sight so that he could filter out Lu Bei’s impact on the local kenja field. Once he did, he searched the shelves, the plants, and then the furniture. Slowly, the spell strip drifted downward, and the flicker flame globe dimmed. At the last possible moment, he noticed the spells weakening and brought them back to full strength.
A half hour or more passed, and he began to tire. He started to panic, but then he reminded himself that this was not difficult. It only required patience and stamina. Taking deep breaths, he refocused and continued searching.
Almost immediately, he spotted a nuance he didn't remember having seen before. A minuscule wave of water energy pulsed from the clasp that held his grandfather's beard in its braid.
He pointed it out and described the spell, then his grandfather exclaimed, “Excellent! And you did it with Lu Bei in the room, too! I should have considered that a requirement. With the fetch around, you are going to have to learn to filter out his effect on the kenja fields.”
Turesobei released his kenja-sight, the levitation spell, and the fire globe spell. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
“Now, you will need to script eight spells,” Kahenan said.
Gleefully, Lu Bei handed him a steaming cup of tea. “I am sorry my presence made things more difficult, master.”
Carefully, Turesobei took a sip. It was a black tea infused with the sweet flavor of plum and a hint of black pepper. Somehow, the fetch had timed things so that the tea was immediately drinkable. He downed the cup and held it out for more. The fetch handed him two warmed biscuits then raced back with the kettle to refill the cup. Starving now, Turesobei crammed down the buttery biscuits and followed them with the second cup of tea.
Lu Bei handed Kahenan a cup as well. His grandfather tasted the tea, and his eyes widened with surprise. “Where did you get this?”
“From your stash,” Lu Bei replied.
“This is not a tea that I own.” A broad smile spread across his wrinkled face. “Though I have had it before, long ago when I was a child. It was my grandmother’s favorite, and I have not had it since she passed away. How did you do it?”
“I blended three different teas together and brewed them carefully,” Lu Bei replied. “How it is that it tastes like your grandmother’s tea, I cannot say.”
Kahenan eyed the fetch, then shrugged. “Well, however you did it, the tea is marvelous. Thank you.”
Lu Bei bowed at the waist. “You are most welcome.”
Kahenan turned to Turesobei. “Now you must scribe three strips each of the *spell of summer healing*, the *spell of blinding*, the *spell of demon banishment*, the *spell of the fog cloud*, the *spell of the fire beam*, and the *spell of countering powerful spells*.”
“By the gods, Grandfather! Are you trying to kill me?”
“When you are finished, you can find me down at the pavilion. Do not wake me if I am napping.”
“Yes, Grandfather.”
Kahenan jabbed a finger toward Lu Bei. “Do not help him!”
“Only food and drink as agreed,” the fetch replied with an overly serious nod of his little head.
Turesobei gulped as he recited the list of spells. He would have to be careful not to work himself until he passed out. Casting magic depleted one's inner kenja, and the more times it was depleted, the shorter one's lifespan would be. Passing out from casting was particularly dangerous because it meant that all of one's kenja had been drained away, for at least a few hours. In the worst cases, that could lead to death.
Kahenan shuffled to the door. “Oh, one more thing. You may rest as often as you wish and join me for dinner if you like. However, you must finish all the spells by midnight.”
Fortunately, the kenja currents were at high tide because the dark moon Zhura, from which dark iron came, was dominant in the sky, while the bright moon Avida, the source of the ore from which white steel was made, was absent. That plus plenty of time to take breaks meant that he might just be able to do this without killing himself.
He dipped his brush into the ink pot and began scripting the first healing spell. Every line in every character had to be perfect, without any stray marks. He drew the characters on the bamboo strip with his mind focused on summoning and binding the power that would pour out from the characters when the command was given.
The other benefit to scripting spells, aside from the casting taking place faster, was that when in danger a wizard would not have to risk depleting his internal kenja to dangerously low levels simply by casting a few spells.
Laboring with only the occasional pause to sip tea and meditate, Turesobei lost himself in his work and had no idea how much time had passed. He forgot hunger, fatigue, worries… everything. He gave his entire being over to scripting the spells. When he finished the final one, he slumped over onto a meditation cushion. Lu Bei curled up beside him and transformed back into a diary as Turesobei fell asleep.
Kahenan woke him some time later and handed him a steaming bowl of fried rice mixed with purple kale. “You passed my test.”
Turesobei smiled numbly and ate.
“You really should learn to pace yourself, though,” he said with a mischievous smile. “You will not be young and vibrant forever.”
“I won’t if I keep working that hard.”
“Join me for breakfast early tomorrow, before you set off with your father.”
To Be Continued…