Chapter 120: The Tempest Archmage

  Stryg woke to the smell of jasmine tea. He opened his eyes and was met with a grey domed ceiling.

“You’re awake, good,” Ismene said.

  She sat next to him, drinking a steaming cup of tea. He was lying on the steel metal plates, the sound of rushing water right beneath him. 

  Stryg groaned in pain as he pushed himself up, “I’m still here? What happened?”

Ismene took another sip of tea before answering, “Our lesson is not over, where else would you possibly be?”

  Stryg grimaced at the pain radiating from his skull, “How long have I been out?”

  “About two hours. I would have taken you to a white mage, but I wanted to see if Riri was right about your healing capabilities. It seems he was, otherwise, you’d probably be in a coma.”

  “Two hours?” Stryg rubbed his temple. “I missed my next class.”

“So did I, yet here we still are.” She handed him a cup of tea, “Drink up, it’ll help soothe your muscles and warm your body.”

  “...Thanks,” he said cautiously. He stared at the cup without moving.

“It’s not poison. If I wanted to harm you we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

  “I know, it’s just… Why are you being so nice to me all of a sudden?”

“Tea? I’m simply being courteous.” Ismene placed her cup down, “I suppose I should clarify a few things.”

  “Like why did you attack me? It was a test right?”

“Correct,” she nodded.

  “And I failed,” he sighed.

“Why do you say that?”

  “I wasn’t strong enough to stop your torrent spells,” he looked over his own soaked clothes.

  “The test was not to see if you were strong enough to stop my attacks. I am one of the most powerful magi in this city and you are just a novice. The outcome of that fight would be obvious to anyone. But, yes, you did fail.”

  Stryg gritted his teeth. Despite all his strength he was still failing. He bowed his head, “I apologize for my failure. I will not fail you again.”

  “No need to apologize and yes, you will fail again, I have no doubt of that.”

  Stryg’s face grew a shade darker. “W-what was the test then?”

  “Now you’re asking the right questions. The test was simple. I wanted to see if you could spell-cast properly. You could not. You still use anger as a crutch for your will and focus.”

  “Wait. So you attacked me over and over, to see what the source for my focus was? You could have just asked.”

  Ismene poked him in the arm with her cane, “Wrong again. Asking you would not have helped either of us. I needed to show you that your anger was not enough. Even when I goaded you into a rage your anger was not sufficient. Your spells were all force, no finesse. Blue magic has always been about control, not random bouts of rage.”

  She lifted his arm with her cane and pushed the tea cup towards his mouth, “And I needed to see if your heart was capable of more than just anger. Fortunately for you, it was.”

  “What do you mean?” He furrowed his brow but took a sip of the prompted tea.

“You don’t remember casting a torrent spell at the end of our little test?”

  “Vaguely? I was in a lot of pain,” he massaged his bruised shoulder.

  She sipped her tea, “You didn’t rely on your anger. The torrent spell you cast was artless and crude, a novice’s spell no doubt, but it came from a raw place deep within. It was born from frustration and it was a manifestation of pure determination.”

  “...I don’t know what that means.”

“It means I’ll accept you as my student.”

  “I’m not sure that’s a good thing,” he swallowed.

  He had never seen such powerful torrent spells before, that much was true. But no one had ever beaten him to such a degree either. He had no idea Ismene was such a powerful mage. Learning from her would be an honor and yet terrifying all at once.
  Ismene’s lips curled slightly, “We’ll start by getting rid of that stupid crutch of yours. Loh decided to give you the easy route for spell-casting. Anger may grant you a powerful focus for spell-casting, but it will never be as reliable as what I will teach you.”

  “You mean regular meditation?”

She smacked his wrist with the cane.

  “Ah!” He winced in pain.

  “You are young so I will overlook your ignorance just this once. Elzri Noir is a very wise man, he would not have sent you my way if you did not have true potential. It is time you begin acting like it.”

  Stryg took a deep breath, “I understand. I’m sorry.”

  “Hm, good,” Ismene nodded. She pushed herself to her feet, “True meditation is simply a way for us to find ourselves. An act of defiance. Taking a stand to not run away from the monsters that plague our thoughts.”

  The cane clattered to the floor, “It is when you find your true self that you will know if you have the strength to face that individual. Because, if you can, then you will learn you have the strength to face the world.”

  “I’m not sure I understand,” Stryg admitted.

“You will, in time. No one can teach you this, not really.”

  Her body began to glow a soft blue. The air popped with static power. Ismene closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and opened her arms wide, “It must come from within you!”

  Blue streaks of lightning burst forth from within her. Stryg fell back as the lightning crackled all around him, curving about the chamber, looking for somewhere to escape.

  Ismene’s grey hair rose in the air, her black robes billowed around her, the sapphire of her mage necklace glowed brightly. Her beige eyes were hard with resolve. Gone was the frail old woman and in her place was a terrifying avatar of storm magic.

  Ismene held her palm open wide, the lightning streaking across the chamber screeched in response and curled around her hand, condensing into a small glowing orb. She clasped her hand shut, the dense orb of power sputtered and spun erratically before settling into a spear of electric energy.

   Ismene slowly turned to Stryg and offered him her free hand, “Are you ready to learn?”

Stryg’s eyes widened in awe, “Yes!”

  “Then we have a long road ahead of us, apprentice,” Ismene grinned.

  The lightning fizzled and the blue light faded away. Her hair fell down around her face, concealing the Tempest Archmage and leaving an old woman in her place. Ismene bent down and grabbed her cane. She hobbled back over to her cup of tea and sat down with a tired sigh.

  “Stryg, you have used your anger to ignore your problems and lash out at the world with magic. Effective, yes. But, limiting. You are depriving yourself of knowing how truly powerful you are. It is time we begin to rectify that.”

  “If I do what you say will I be able to create lightning like that? Can you teach me that storm spell, the one with the spear? I’ve never seen anything like it,” Stryg scooted closer to her.

  “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. There is a reason why most blue magi can only cast the torrent spell-form. Mastery of storm magic requires complete lack of emotion, total focus, precise control, and an unbreakable will. You have none of these qualities.”

  “So, you’ll only be teaching me torrent magic?” His shoulders slumped.

  Ismene laughed, “Please, you’re not ready to learn any spells. If you are to reach your true potential we must start from the beginning, your foundations. Until I deem you ready, we will spend our sessions training in meditation and breathing control.”

  Stryg blinked, Fuck.

“This time there will be no beautiful dwarves to distract you,” she raised an eyebrow.

  “Eh?”

  “Elzri explained to me your physical capabilities, including your enhanced night vision. After that, it was quite easy to conclude why a teenage boy failed in my class. Now, close your eyes and let us begin.”

  “...Understood, master,” he hung his head.

~~~

  Stryg stood in front of a large mansion enshrouded by pale white walls. He showed the guards at the front gate his nameplate and announced his reason for visiting. The guards discussed between themselves and nodded. One of them said they understood and to please wait a moment, while the other guard ran off into the mansion.

  Stryg balanced on the heels of his feet and glanced around the street while he waited. The Villa District definitely lived up to its name. Mansions ran across almost every street. The few areas without mansions were filled with high-end stores catering to the rich. The cobblestone streets themselves were polished and impeccable. He wondered how many cleaners passed by every night to keep it so.

  The streets were fairly empty compared to the Trade District. There were no bustling of crowds nor shouts of sales. Instead, well-groomed centaurs trotted about with their wealthy riders. Every so often a carriage would pass by, a small face peeping out the window. 

  The silver gates behind Stryg swung open. The guards stepped aside as a young man ran over.

“Stryg! You made it,” Clypeus laughed with a wide smile.

  “Thank you again for the invitation,” he bowed slightly.

“Not at all, I’ve been needing a training partner.” Clypeus placed a hand on his shoulder, “Come in, come in.”

  Stryg stepped into the courtyard and slowly gazed over the villa. There were several white stone buildings of varying sizes connected to each other through large halls. Green grass covered most of the ground save for the winding brick stone pathways spreading throughout the courtyard. Flowers and shrubbery decorated the edges of each courtyard, with even a few trees growing here and there.

  Stryg found himself smiling, he hadn’t seen trees ever since his training exercise in the academy’s grove. He missed the familiar plants.

  “So, this is your home?” Stryg asked.

  “Well, it’s House Gale’s main residence within the city. My family has many lodgings. I’m currently staying here, but I consider my real home a manor up north, away from the city, it’s where I grew up. A little confusing, I know.”

  “No, I think I understand. I share a similar sentiment, just in reverse.”

“Oh, I see… Well, our training ground is in the back. Let me show you,” Clypeus pointed with his thumb.

  “I’m right behind you,” Stryg nodded.

“So, how have you been? I haven’t seen you around campus much these past few weeks.”

  “I’ve been busy training, haven’t had much free time.”

  “And now you’ve come to train with me,” Clypeus chuckled. “Always the hard worker, huh? I bet your magical skills have improved a lot.”

  “If only,” he mumbled.

  Stryg was still only able to create simple shapes from his illusion spells and he was unable to retain their shape whenever they were struck by one of the wind chimes. Vayu said he was making good progress, but he didn’t feel that way. As for Ismene, he was stuck doing meditation practices that he was still utterly failing. Sure, he didn’t have Kithina to distract him, now he just had a terrifying mage staring at him.

  “Here we are,” Clypeus nudged his shoulder.

  Stryg looked up to see a large pond with smooth stepping stones chequered across its clear surface. A woman in loose white robes danced over the stones, her body a blur of rhythmic patterns. Her silver sword swiveled in her palm, each stroke glancing the pond’s surface, sending water droplets flying in fluid arcs.

  Stryg lost himself in the beautiful dance, his eyes mesmerized by the seamless sword strokes. The end came abruptly, the woman’s movements froze, one leg held bent in the air, her blade in mid-thrust. She slowly looked over at him.

  “Cly, this is the one you brought for a training partner?” Gale asked calmly.

  “Yup. You remember Stryg, right? He was at Mellow Bloom during the Seregulus Hunt,” Clypeus patted the young goblin’s back.

  “Hello, again,” Stryg placed his hand over his heart and bowed.

“I remember you, but as I recall you were a mage, not a swordmaster,” Gale said.

  “Actually, I came hoping to pick up on a few ways to counter sword attacks,” Stryg said.

  Gale skipped across the pond, her feet barely touching each stepping stone. She landed softly on the grass in front of them.

  “You’ll get your chance. I just don’t know how much you’ll actually be able to learn. But, if you really wish to be Cly’s partner and train against me then I have no objections,” Gale said.

  “Thank you for your acceptance,” Clypeus bowed deeply.

“Let’s make this quick, it’s almost dinner time,” Gale raised her blade.

  Stryg glanced between them, “Wait, what?”