Sorcerer’s Apprentice (closed)

Mystic Den is not a place found easily, and rarely is a place for more than the occasional dignitary visitors. Today, den was filled with the voices of men, commoners mostly, moving goods to wagons. Ironically the last time the place was as busy was to perform the same activity it does now. The loudest of all were three commoner men struggled to drag the large chest to the side of the riding carriage. It was the last of the items that needed to be loaded, but the way they struggled and their corresponding choice of words only heightened the obvious weight of the object.

The only men who weren’t straining with the goods were two at the house’s entry observing the work below. They were dressed nearly alike, in dark brown robes tied at the waist with a simple rope. They school of wizardry demands masters to look not much different than monks, except, as with all wizards of their age, no beard or hair shall be cut. Thus the two men of similar cultures look much alike if it weren’t for the noticeable difference in age. One had a much shorter beard, the kind that would suggest it was just at the start of determined growth. “I shall write to you,” he stated factually in a way to suggest there were feelings to hide underneath. “As soon as I arrive at my destination, then as often as I can. I shall never stop asking for your guidance, Master.”

“There will be much to do when you arrive,” the other responded. The lines of age around his face suggested he had seen many years, but his hair remained dark suggesting they greyness of life hadn’t reached him. Yet, that suggestion would be quite wrong. “I don’t expect you to write.”

“It is the least I could do,” the younger responded. “Besides, Master …”

“And the day has come to end calling me your Master,” the elder responded. “When you leave this glen, noone is your Master. In a fortnight, you are one of the wizards of the School of Alchemy and shortly you will take on an apprentice of your own. As well, shortly my new apprentice. There can only be one who shall call me Master.”

There was a tense silence that lasted for nearly more than a breath. Broken by a laugh by the younger. “Well, I must ask you want you bloody well expect me to call you because if I meet you in King’s Bridge, I shant say to you ‘Good to see you Wulfsten Osgar the Wise, Wulfsten Osgar the Brown of the Den, Golem Slayer, Keeper of the Flaven Stone, Protector of the Bedwin Forest, Wizard of the West. Would you like a cup of tea?’

Geoffrey let there a be a pause for a moment, then continued, “Or would calling you Master suffice?”

His former master couldn’t help to laugh at the flagrant use of his titles. “I will miss your wit, Geoffrey, most of all” as he patted the former student on the shoulder.

A fourth man began working with the chest closer to the carriage, yet it seemed like the job only became harder. It was almost as if the weight of the chest grew two fold with each new man struggling with it.

“I don’t remember you enjoying it when I newly arrived,” Geoffrey responded. “I believe I remember fearing you most of my first year. I only hope you soften sooner to the new apprentice when he arrives.” That made Geoffrey think to ask, “Still no word of the next apprentice?”

The elder shook his head. “We leave those who decided such things to man. You will learn this too if the gods allow you to exceed mortality. What you expect to occur once will change with the passing generations. I have dealt with it for scores of years, and remain patient with the needs of man. It could be I will not know of my new apprentice until he arrives on my doorstep.”

“I hope that is not too long. I hated being alone in this place when you were on your travels. I would rather that you not be here long without someone.”

The older wizard took a long breath, collecting his words, and then responded. “I will give you three expectations and then you are to leave Mystic Den.” Without waiting for a reaction he began, “First of all, I expect you to no longer worry about me. I maybe as old as the trees themselves, but I am no more feeble than you are.”

“I did not mean to suggest you are feeble, Master, I …”

“Second,” the elder interrupted, “If you need to refer to me outside of formality, Osgar will suffice. Yet, I would welcome if you call me Brother.”

Geoffrey smiled warmly. “And the third, Brother,” he said carefully using the name for the first time.

The elder raised an eyebrow sternly, his eyes returning to the darkness of an inpatient teacher. “The powers you have learned are to be used for good, not for teasing commoners.”

Geoffrey laughed a little, and waved a hand. In an instant, the chest the men were struggling with lifted like a feather in their effort. It landed on top of the carriage and strapped itself down. The men looked back at the wizards, not at all amused at the trick.

...

In time Geoffrey's carriage was on the road to King's Bridge, and Osgar was left behind in the Den. For the first time in years, he prepared a dinner for himself only. He sat to read in a newly quiet home. He walked by the student's room, empty unlike it it so normally is. Geoffrey was right, Mystic Den is a lonely place when there is only one here. That will change soon enough, as it has repeated as such for hundreds of years.

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The Master - The Master
Mystic Glen

http://gregory-mack.deviantart.com/art/Apprentice-Mage-463314662

Arewyn stood before the entire high wizard council. Eswar the wisest looked down at her with and exasperated expression. To her left was her father, a 6 foot 7 merchant with the mucles to life a horse. And to her right was her moth, 7 months pregnant and far more intimidating.

"You just don't understand, Mrs Steltar. We can't accept an application after your daughter lied about her gender." Eswar said.

Arana Steltar stomped her foot. "That was a paperwork error on your part!" she insisted, for the fifth time. "The council approved my daughter for an apprenticeship. You're not gonna go back on that because of her gender? Are you? What kind of high council would you be?"

The high elder sighed again and shook his head, and Maras Steltar stepped in. "Your wiseness. Arewyn is extrmely talented. Show him, Arewyn."

Arewyn smiled and held out her hand. Sitting on her palm was a small glowing butterfly. It was a beautiful translucent blue and the air around it sparkled.

The council murmured boredly.

Then suddenly the room was filled with butterflies, glowing on the elders shoulders and fluttering into their beards. Arewyn laughed.

"Not bad. Illusions. Can you do anything else?" the wisest asked.

Arewyn smiled wide. And then suddenly she was gone, in her place a pile of clothes. The council looked confused, until something nudged its way out of the hood of her cloak. A hedgehog.

"Transfiguration? That incredibly impressive for someone your age." Walvich the highest said, interrupting for the first time. Arewyn reformed, holding the clothes from the floor to cover herself. Her father scowled at the council, checking for wandering eyes as she quickly dressed.

"And we do have a master that just moved up his apprentice. Osgar." another wizard said.

The wisest sighed and shrugged with resolve. "I suppose-"

Arewyn cheered and her parents hugged.

"However Osgar will need time to prepare and-"

"Thats fine." Arana Steltar interupted. "We'll stay here in the high wizard academy. Our home in the valley is too far so we can just wait here."

The council shook their heads. "No no-" the wisest said. "No we will get Arewyn to Osgar immedietely."

---

The highest was old and nice. He showed Arewyn how to perform a simple teleportation spell and promised to give her a push in the right direction. Soon she found herself in a lush green valley, where folliage met stone.

"Nice place." she said, wandering to the door. She knocked and waited, yelling out "Hi! I'm Arewyn! Your new apprentice!" she held put the letter that the highest told her to give to Osgar.

Osgar threw the door open a meer instant after the knock finished. He peered at the new apprentice, clearly judging her in that first impression of what stood in front of him. He crossed his arms, his hands sliding up the sleeves of the long brown robe that billowed from him. In his mouth he chewed a pipe with a long handle to the bowl, the bit of the pipe shifting between teeth making the whole of the instrument sway.

He reached for and grasped the note, and read:


Osgar growled under his breath. In some ways the language itself was offensive, as if the simple fact that she was female regarded special instructions. Then again, such an unprecedented appointment to be thrust onto him was just as bothersome. It was, however, the ruling of the council, and not for him to reject.

He rolled up the note, gauged her once more. Her soft brown hair & her gentle green eyes made her appear not much more than a child, younger than any that the council would even consider. Yet for Osgard that is a hard judgement. No girl comes to the den, for that matter no woman. Life in the den is simple, self-sufficient, and quiet. To Osgard, ‘simple, self-sufficient, and quiet’ would rarely define a woman in this world.

“Welcome to Mystic Den,” he said as welcoming as the poor to the tax collector. “I am you Master. That is what you will call me. You are my apprentice until you have proven to be anything different, whether good or bad. You’re ability to prove to me you are anything more than a little girl will rely on your ability to listen to what I say and do what I ask. What skills do you possess that deems you worthy to be my apprentice?”

He bore down on her like a king to a treacherous peasant. He made it clear that not only was she below him that she was also a complete burden. She met his scowl and back down a bit. She tried to keep the pain out of her face and look strong.

"My specialty is tricks of the mind. Illusions. Its the only book I had available back at home. That and a small excerpt on transfiguration." she caught her gaze straying from his, but moved her eyes back to meet his. She wouldn't let her confidence fall despite how much he tried to intimidate him.

"I taught myself the bare minimum control over the elements. If I'm determined enough I can move rock. If I'm cal enough I can move water. And if I'm focused enough I can summon or put out a small ammount of fire. But I never had any training in forms or incantation so my abilities there are very minimal."

Before she had knocked she had started a small illusion on herself. The magic behind it was so simple that it was barely noticable. She just made herself a bit taller. She had originally done it to make herself seem older, but now it was kind of funny. When he looked away she shifted the spell so she was a tad shorter than her normal size. Or when he looked her over, she would wait till his gaze was else where and change the color of her eyes to blue. She wanted to know whether he would be impressed or irritated at her fooling him.

Noticeable it was. Immediately he felt the need to comment on it.

“If you gain enlightenment, you will grasp a power of magical awareness. All of us hold an aura about us which changes when someone uses mystical abilities. That training is long to come for you, but I mention this for a simple fact. I can always tell when you are using spells, even when you think you have hidden it.”

Still, her ability to do slight transfiguration was not lost on him. Such skills were hard to perform, and to do so with the subtlety she was attempting suggests the start of mastery. Impressive at such a young age. Yet she would need to be challenged on her elemental control; something where none can surpass Osgard.

Something else, latched onto his pysche. The color of her eyes, the way they changed. At first when he realized they changed from their original brown to blue, it struck him at a deeper layer than his judgement of her. At first it seemed upsetting that it was no longer that dark hue; but the brightness of the new color seemed livelier. He tried to ignore it and move on.

“I will need to test your skills in time, but first, come inside and I will show you this home.”

They entered into the building that was a mix of stone, wood, and window. The bottom floor consisted of a sitting area next to a fireplace; kitchen with a stove, stone oven, & table; a fairly large laboratory & library; a single door seemingly to a stairwell; and a small bedroom. “As you can see, there are only three doors in this place. One at the front, one at the back, and the one that leads to my private room. Only if I approve are you to open or go through the later. This bedroom,” pointing to the small place with a single bed, small desk, and chair, “is yours. Apprentices are not given the luxury of privacy, I don’t care if you are a little girl, some methods do not change.”

He stopped, turned to her, and gave a long deep sigh. “You said you can summon fire if you concentrate. That shall be your first test. Go to the stove. Summon your fire. Make us dinner. If you cannot summon enough fire to light a stove, than I shall make dinner … but only for myself.”

He stepped over to the table at the kitchen, and waited for her to begin trying.

Arewyn grinned. He had caught her in her trick, but she wasn't the least upset. He seemed to loosen up at her little display of deception. He explained that higher magicians could sense when magic was being used, and even better, he would teach her. Her grinned widened.

She noticed that when he stopped talking he faltered. He was looking at her eyes. Dissecting their color change. His gaze held a strange expression. Did he see something he liked? Her grin fell a bit as she gazed back at him. He shined so bright, with an inner light that just... Hypnotized her.

But it whisked away. He turned and led her into the house. It was breath full inside, but simple. She liked that. It was such an interesting place. She was disappointed to see her small area in the corner. He could see her sleep. He might see her change. However lack of privacy wasn't going to stop her, not when she was this close to living her dream.

He gestured to the stove and told her that she was to make a fire. Fire was her hardest element to work with, but far. But she had a fire in herself already, eager to please him. She sat down and began to focus. She started by claiming herself, then began focusing on the hearth. She could smell the pine log in there. The cedar chips around it. They were both easy to ignite. She could feel them, see them. She concentrated.

First they grew warm. Then they smoked a bit. She focused harder, breathing calmly as she tried to will the hearth to ignite. There was a crackling and several sparks and she jumped a bit, opening her eyes to see what she had done. A few small flames had sparkled all over. Taken aback a bit, she turned and looked at Osgar,p. He was watching, she turned back to the stove and breathed. Slowly, she coaxed the small flames to knit together. The spread, grew, and moved to each other.

The stove had a fire going, one not too shabby. It wasn't a roaring flame, but it would do for a meal.

The aura around Arewyn flickered and shifted as she concentrated. Much of it was misdirected, uncontrolled. Evidence that she even her youthful weakness still held more power than she knew, but knew not how to direct it or indeed that it was there at all. It was the way the aura changed that made him curious. He could see it enveloped her, like a mystical glow that reached from where the powers originated. Unlike most, even himself, where the fire invocation would grow from the mind’s eye, the tell tale brimstone tones grew from her torso, flickering out where her clothing hid the feminine curves.

This new apprentice was going to challenge him. Already she is showing traits which he would need to study. For hundreds of years, Osgard has studied the magics, mastered so many the elemental skills; yet to his memory had never seen a woman possess these abilities.

In fact, it had been years since he had seen a woman.

The fire grew and the gentle smell of cedar grew in the room. With a soft smile he nodded. “Success. You will eat tonight. There is ham and potatoes in the pantry, unless your cooking skills lead you to some other path. Preparing dinner nightly shall be one of your chores as long as you stay in the den. Before that ...”

He walked across the floor to stand beside her. He took her hand in his and turned it over to have the palm face up. Her skin was softer than he expected, likely that of a gentle life of a girl. Trying to not let that distract him, he slid his energies through their hands. “Think not so much about what you try to effect, think of where you can focus the energies. Fire does not come from wood, it comes from you.” Slowly embers dance out of her palm and burned out into the air. “Imagine as one would want a seed to spread, one wouldn’t ask the seed to take to the wind, one would focus on blowing air and let that affect the seed.” A small flame created itself just above her palm, space enough to not burn skin but close to feel it’s heat. The way he stood holding her palm, it was much like the flame - space enough to not feel her body, but close to feel it’s heat. “Once you can find where it comes from, then you will find how to control it.”

She had done it, her face lit up with a smile as the fire lit up with warmth. She had done it, and master granted her permission to eat. He seemed a bit in awe, but she could tell he was trying to hide it. Her excitement wasn't even dampered by his instruction to cook for him every night. She cooked all the time back home. It would be simple, and perhaps he would enjoy her cooking and open up to her a bit more.

She froze, stiffling a gasp as he took her hand. She nodded, soaking in his words and instruction. She breathed and changed her approach to the flame. It burned more now than before, better and hotter, but more controlled. She smiled at him. "Magnificent, master."she told him. Even a little instruction helped her improve ten fold.

When she smiled to him, he felt some of his resolution break. He quickly let go of her hands and moved back to his chair.

“Now to dinner with you,” he spoke coldly.

As she cooked, his mind churned with what seemed to be so different with his reactions to her. Yes there always was a pleasure that came with forming a new apprentice. That is what he convinced himself that it was. The joy of his own duty.

He tried to give a different outside view of the churn he held inside. As she cooked, he sat back with his arms crossed, watching everything she did with an evaluating mind.

As she was finishing, as she was readying their meals, and even as they at, Osgar started asking her more to gain better understanding of his new apprentice. “Tell me, where are you from,” he asked. “Are there others there that have the gift.” “When did you know you had the gift - what was the first moment you know, what did you cast?”