Now, as far as I can tell, magic is very much real on Arcadia. And not the slight of hand, smoke and mirrors stuff from Earth. This is the summon monster, shoot lightning, superpower kind. But as it turns out, the number of people who can actually use magic is rather limited. Perhaps one in a thousand or so, or about 0.1%. That’s why, though I’ve heard stories of its usage, I’ve very rarely seen it being performed. In fact, only two instances come to mind. One was a divination spell used by the local priest to find a child who had gotten lost in the mountains. Another is an evocation spell used by a traveling healer to aid some of the sick in the village.
The stories of sorcerers and their ilk, on the other hand, is an entirely different matter. There seems to be no end to the accounts of legendary mages who fought off terrible beasts to save the world. Of course, they always take place in faraway lands, beyond the Great Forest or across the Forbidden Sea, not in our peaceful Kingdom of Engleton, but the fantastical descriptions piqued my interest nonetheless. Mages with the ability to change the weather on a whim, to walk on water, soar through the sky, conjure all manners of beasts to do their bidding. How can I not be the tiniest bit curious? Especially with the book already in my hands. Just a quick peak...
With a stupidly wide grin across my childish face, like a boy on Christmas morning, I begin to flip through the sheets of the magic tome. The first dozen or so pages of the book appear to be a disclaimer of sorts. It’s long, legal sounding, and filled with difficult words. I skip this part. Then comes a description of the different schools of magic. I would read this, had I the time, but I’m unsure when my father might return. So, I also skip this part. Finally is the collection of actual spells. There’s about thirty or so listed. At the top of each page are the spells’ names, their functions as well as the invocations needed to cast them. Some spells require further gestures or body movements. These are diagrammed with pictures on subsequent sheets. The more complicated spells also require physical materials. I imagine these to be eyes of newts or frog tongues or the like. Having no such items on my person, however, I disregard these spells completely.
Flipping through the book, I pick an easy looking spell at the start of the list. From its description, I think it’s used for beginners to practice magic. And given that I couldn’t be more of a beginner, well, it sounded like the perfect fit. The page reads, “... novice spellcasters… something… practice… something something… magical effects… something… light candle… something something… 10-feet range… something...”
Okay. Admittedly, my literacy is… rough around the edges, but I think I get the gist of it. It sounds like a parlor trick. You know, the kind where someone lights a candle with their “mind”? Only instead of mind, it’s magic. Or are they the same thing in this world? Um, whatever. My point being, the spell is classified as a transmutation, level 0 spell, which means it should be fairly weak, right? So even if I miss on some of the details, what’s the worst that can happen?
I go fetch an unlit candle from my father’s desk, placing it on the window sill. Then, I take a few minutes to study the invocation, committing the words to memory by repeating it under my breath. After that comes the hand motions depicted in the drawings, again which I memorize. Once I’m fairly certain I understand what to do, I set the book down on the ground. Then, standing, facing the window, I focus on the candle and begin the casting.
I repeat the words, loudly, clearly, as the book states, while simultaneously performing the gestures. I end the casting by calling out the spell’s name, which in theory should activate it. “Prestidigitation!”
I’m not sure what I was expecting to happen, but… I guess I was expecting “something” to happen. Flashing lights? A magic circle appearing beneath my feet? Theme music? Instead, I get nothing. No flames. No reaction of any sort. The candle by the window remains unlit, and there’s no indication that a spell was even cast.
“Huh, that’s weird,” I mumble, wondering if I had performed the magic incorrectly. I take my position and try again. And again. And again. By the fifth attempt- and failure- I’m starting to feel my heart sink. It briefly crosses my mind that I might simply not be one of the lucky few blessed with magical capabilities. After all, even though my father could use magic, and there is a hereditary component to magic aptitude, it was by no means guaranteed that it’d pass down to me. It is one in a thousand, after all, and there’s only, what, a thousand people in all of Tavenport? All of Tavenport to produce a single mage. The odds are definitely not in my favor.
I shake my head. No, it’s too early to throw in the towel. Maybe I should consider other possibilities first. Like if I got the invocation wrong? My comprehension of runic words is still fuzzy, after all, so it’s entirely possible I misread some of the spell. I refer back to the book, scanning the page, and then it hits me. “Oh, duh!” I say, slapping my forehead. Turns out, I had indeed made an error. I had misread one of the vowels, like reading “e” when it should have been “a”; it changes the entire invocation. Correcting for my mistake, I recommit the words of the spell to memory. Then I stand once more and start casting.
The words complete, the motions finished, I extend my arm forward, pointing at the candle. “Prestidigitation!” This time, I can sense something is different; I can feel my body tingling. The hairs on my arm stand on end, my muscles tense and there is a palpable energy in the air around me. Something is definitely happening. Something’s coming. Something-
BOOM!
The explosion propels me backwards, and I suddenly feel weightless, my body flying through the air until it strikes something, hard.
I drop to the ground with a thud.
