Firebrand

Chapter 370: New Methods

Chapter 370: New Methods

New Methods

Standing in his classroom, Master Fenrick held up a piece of parchment with a strange semicircle and other lines drawn upon it. "This is the last rune I will teach you. Simply because we are out of time. Next Manday will be your last lesson in the subject with an examination taking place the following afternoon. I know you mageknights have weapon training, but you have been allowed to arrive late for that."

Martel could not help but feel a little rattled. Even if he believed Eleanor's words that an inability to cast these runes would not cause him problems, he disliked the thought of moving on to another subject with this one unfinished. While he might not have any immediate need or use for this kind of magic, it rankled him to have begun learning without actually getting anywhere. Perhaps he could continue on his own if time permitted it.

"Furthermore, I am aware that none of you have yet been able to actually cast a rune successfully. Don't be discouraged by this," the teacher told them. "The method for learning this is a little unusual compared to what you'll be used to here at the Lyceum."

Martel sat up straight, making sure to pay extra attention.

"Just as a mage will have stronger affinity for certain kinds of magic, so will some of these runes be easier for you to activate. I cannot predict which one, unfortunately, which is why I have taken you through as many as possible in the time allowed. For this lesson, you will practice the last one I show you as you have previously done with the others, but in between today and next Manday, your assignment is to practice every rune and find the one that speaks to you the strongest. Keep practising with that one, as you are most likely to find success with that particular symbol."

Martel glanced at Eleanor. Perhaps they would figure this out yet.

"As for today's lesson, this is the rune of warmth. You can guess what it does. In times of winter, this is a fast and easy way to stave off the cold. Listen. Vermi." The rune glowed with magic, and reaching out with his own, Martel sensed its heat. "Now draw it and begin practising," Master Fenrick commanded.

Even as Martel led his charcoal in the strange pattern of the symbol, he began to smile. He did not know how the Tyrians had made or discovered the symbols, nor how it worked. But he could feel it. Not physically – the parchment remained the same temperature regardless of his scribbles. But another of his senses, whether magical or instinct, told him of dormant heat waiting to be unleashed by this rune. He knew which symbol spoke to him. No matter how long it took, he would make this work.

***

As it turned out, it would take Martel longer than two hours, and he finished the bell without any clear progress. But he also found it a little hard to focus in that classroom; all the other students were likewise muttering to themselves, charcoal scratching against parchment, Master Fenrick walking up and down between the desks to issue corrections. He already looked forward to the peace and quiet of the library for his study session with Eleanor tomorrow.

For now, elemental magic awaited him, familiar and practised in solitude with only his favourite teacher present. "There you are, boy," Master Alastair said. "I think you are ready for us to practice the final step of the spell."

Martel already smiled. "Which is?"

"Sensing the element at play is the first step. Conjuring its counter is the second. The third is to actually use that conjuration to defend yourself."

The acolyte nodded. Simple and straightforward. Exactly what one could expect from Asterian magic.

"I'll conjure an elemental bolt and attack you. Don't worry, I won't use any spellpower."

Martel was tempted to say that made the Master of Elements different from Moira, but he kept silent and simply indicated his readiness.

A bolt of water formed between Master Alastair's hands and flew forward to strike Martel straight in the face. A moment later, a burst of fire came up from the acolyte's hands where the bolt would have been.

His face splashed, Martel felt the water drip down his hair onto his robe. "Was it necessary to aim for my head, master?"

"Necessary? No. Hilarious? Very." The teacher gave a wry smile. "Besides, I thought this would help to motivate you. "

"Trust me, master, I couldn't be more motivated."

"Excellent. We go again."

***

Mistress Rana stared at the object in his hands. "What manner of bizarre toy is that?"

Martel held out his hands to give her a better look. "It's not a toy, it's a clock."

The alchemist squinted. "Like that infernal thing in the entrance hall? But it's so small!"

"Smallest clock in Morcaster," Martel said proudly, feeling reasonably confident his statement was true. Excluding the one he had given to Maximilian, of course.

"Fascinating." Her demeanour did not agree with her utterance. "And why have you chosen to pollute my laboratory with that incessant sound?"

"Well, it's hard for me to know when to do the different steps of the fortitude potion. But with this watch, I can measure the time in between, as long as you tell me when, of course. So if I write it down, another time, I just have to measure the time to know when the next step is."

Mistress Rana crossed her arms. "Your little plan has two flaws. First of all, a good alchemist must be able to determine the progress of their potion with their own senses, not some mechanical monstrosity. If the ingredients are of different quality from one time to the next, it will alter the brewing process, making one step take longer or less time than before. Furthermore, you will have to drag the clock with you every time you want to make this elixir."

"Of course, mistress, I understand. I do want to learn to understand the process just through my senses. But I thought this might be worth a try. Experiment and see if something new can be learned. Perhaps even improved." He gave her a hopeful look.

"Preposterous," she mumbled. "An Asterian mage proposing to use a Khivan clock in Sindhian alchemy. Madness." Yet despite her stern words, her tone of voice seemed soft. Finally, she glanced from the contraption to Martel. "Fine. You may try this time. But if that device distracts you and ruins the potion, I'll throw it in the cauldron, and you can drink the resulting concoction."

"Understood, mistress." Martel smiled and began his work.