He dreamed of his father’s house. He remembered laying on the stone floor and tracing the lines, exploring the webs of minerals and crystals contained within.
-–
Meyriv opened his eyes. Dawn approached, and the caravan leader had given the order to prepare to embark. A few of the other candidates were beginning to wake.
His mind lingered on his dream. He longed for the stability his childhood house reminded him of.
Funny, I only value that stability now that I don’t have it.
He quickly packed up his bedroll and blanket and affixed them to his pack. He took great pains to be awake and prepared ahead of most others in the caravan.
Jeb stepped down from his wagon and glanced over. “Up first again, Meyriv? I’m beginning to think you don’t like sleeping.”
He shrugged.
The caravan leader stoked the cook fire to life.
“Ever thought of talkin’ to people? Maybe you’d even find some friends.”
Meyriv’s jaw tightened, but he simply shrugged and walked away.
He sat down on a rock a few paces from camp, pulling a pebble from his pocket. He began to practice. He focused on the lines and divots in the rock and tried to move energy from himself to it. It took several moments of intense effort, but gradually it grew warmer and began to glow, barely noticeable in the morning light. He was so intent on his practice that he failed to notice someone approaching.
“Whatcha’ up to?” A voice interjected from nearby.
Meyriv carefully returned the pebble to his pocket and saw a young man, probably around nineteen, leaning against a tree. One of the older candidates. His name was… Ned? …No, Neff.
He turned away and pointedly ignored him.
“Are you sure you weren’t tryin’ to practice magic? Because if that’s the extent of your abilities right there you’re wastin’ your time.”
Meyriv shot him a withering glare, “Mind your own business.” He growled.
“Hey, I’m trying to help you. You gotta play to your strengths to succeed, and magic just ain’t one of yours. I’ll be lucky if I get accepted, an’ I’m the strongest of the six applyin’ in my town.”
Meyriv turned his back contemptuously. He feared the youth was right, but he didn’t have any other acceptable options. He squeezed his eyes shut.
I don’t want the impossible… simply some control over my life.
He would have to hope that the evaluator would perceive his strong discipline and dedication. He resolved to work even harder to prove the young man wrong.
He joined the caravan as they began to move, assuming his usual position several paces ahead of Jeb’s wagon. The caravan was scheduled to arrive at the city of Bridgeport in two more days, culminating the three-week journey from Meyriv’s remote hometown of Untak.
Bridgeport was a coastal city and central to trade in the region. Every few months since the annexation, imperial evaluators regularly traveled through cities and large towns in the province, testing those with the potential to train as mages. Those lucky enough to be selected would then begin their new life as an apprentice to an imperial mage.
Meyriv continued his daily practice every time he had a spare moment. He was aware his abilities were weak, but they had improved a great deal since he first discovered them.
The caravan arrived in the city and made for an inn. Jeb announced, “Better rest up, hopefuls! Tomorrow morning you’ll see if the journey was worth it.”
The candidates were shown to their rooms. Meyriv was in a room with Neff and two other teenage boys he didn’t recognize. He considered this a good thing; He didn’t get along with most of his peers from his village.
One of the boys threw himself onto his cot and sighed contentedly. Meyriv silently agreed. The cots were barely more comfortable than a bedroll, but he was glad to be indoors.
He awoke the moment light streamed in the small window. The other youths in the room slept soundly, their snores echoing off the walls. Meyriv packed up his things with practiced efficiency and loaded them in the wagon. Today he would get his chance. He was determined to be accepted.
Jeb led the way to the Mage-baron’s estate. The evaluations would take place in his hall.
When they arrived, the candidates were instructed to line up by the doors to the rooms set aside for evaluations. There were about fifty aspiring mages in total, a mix of Bridgeport natives and individuals from various caravans. Many of them looked around in fascination at the elegant tapestries adorning the walls, or the finely carved stone pillars looming above.
While waiting in line, the candidates almost all showed signs of nervousness. Many fidgeted with their clothes or hair, others stared ahead silently, trying to appear calm.
Meyriv simply held his pebble tightly behind his back with clasped hands and closed his eyes, keeping himself aware of the stone but being careful not to expend any energy before his evaluation.
At last, he got to the door and a bald middle-aged man motioned him in. He wore fine clothing, although slightly tight around his not-insubstantial belly. The man’s beady eyes looked him up and down for a few moments. His lips curled into a smirk. “I’ve seen enough. You may go.” He snapped,
Meyriv flinched as if struck. Sweat beaded on his forehead and his cheeks flushed bright red. “What? I haven’t even demonstrated my magic yet!” he protested with a shaky voice and a defensive stance
“I don’t need that to know you have no significant ability. You may go.” The man said dismissively, using one of those condescending tones adults use when dealing with troublesome children. Meyriv remained frozen in place, still in shock from this turn of events. The man sighed, firmly grabbed Meyriv’s shoulder in a painful grip, and led him out the exit door with a final shove.
Tears welled up in Meyriv’s eyes as he processed what had happened and he haltingly started walking, stumbling down the hallway. He heard the din of the other candidates milling around the waiting area and he froze, his heart sinking even further. He knew if they saw him in this state they would ridicule him, particularly after such a brief evaluation. After a brief look at his surroundings, he scrambled up a narrow stairway, his heart pounding in his chest. He quickly glanced over his shoulder before ducking into an empty room and collapsing in the corner. He struggled to steady his breathing and was unable to hold back the tears as they began to spill down his cheeks. It was all he could do to stop from bawling loud enough for the entire building to hear.
His thoughts raced, Do effort and discipline count for nothing? Why haven’t I gotten stronger than this?! I devote more time to practice than any of the others! I deserve to be accepted!
Several minutes passed by, and he heard some footsteps in the hallway. He tensed and tried to make himself as small as possible, not wanting to discover the consequences of being somewhere he wasn’t supposed to be. Soon, the muffled sounds of voices drifted from a nearby room, alongside the crisp pop of a bottle being opened and the telltale clinks of glassware. Meyriv tilted his head and carefully shuffled a bit closer so he could hear the conversation.
“…finished evaluating your lot too? Any highlights?”
“No, just average abilities at best. It’s no more than can be expected from a backwoods province like this. What a chore.”
The other voice grunted in agreement. “Same here. How many positions do we need to fill this run?”
“Seventeen.”
“No openings with ol’ Irotem? I thought his last apprentice was elevated this past year.”
“Yes, but his territory was already sparsely populated, and after that one… disaster the remaining settlements have been all but deserted. He’s just too stubborn to get up and leave with the sane people.” The man said with a chortle.
“That’s assuming any of them were sane to begin with, living that close to those cursed swamplands. At least Irotem’s smart enough to stay holed up in that mountain fortress of his.”
“Regardless, with most of the people gone he no longer qualifies as a Baron. As such, we have no obligation to send him an apprentice nor pay for their training.”
“I see your point… What’s he even up to these days? Not politics, that’s for sure.”
“I don’t know. Research? Reading? Maybe writing another dusty tome for the Kzekians to drool over? He’s an odd one, but I guess once you become that powerful you’ve earned some eccentricities. Although, from what I’ve heard he hasn’t really done much of anything in decades.”
“Age catches up with all of us I suppose…” One of the voices droned.
The conversation moved on to less interesting topics for a few minutes, after which Meyriv heard the sounds of people getting up from chairs. He held still and tried to keep his breath quiet, waiting for the footsteps to fade down the hallway.
“Irotem…” He had never heard the name, but this particular mage might represent his only opportunity to learn from a master. He clenched his fists and hurried back the way he had come and quickly caught up to the rest of the group. Those who had been selected had already been escorted away to prepare for their travels.
Jeb led the remainder of the group back to the wagons. “The lot of you aren’t nearly as cheerful on the way home, but I suppose that’s to be expected.” He said in a consoling tone.
Before the caravan left the city, Meyriv stopped in the market and bought a map of the surrounding areas. He made sure to have the seller mark the location of Irotem’s territory and the optimal routes he could take.
With the remainder of his money, he bought as much food as he could. Hopefully, he could ration it to last until he got there. The journey could take as long as two weeks for a slow-moving caravan, but he hoped to make it in four or five days if he could keep up a decent pace.
The other rejects had lives to return to. Meyriv had nothing. He had just spent the last of his money. He had no choice but to succeed. He set his jaw in determination.
Meyriv continued with the caravan until the road forked and they went southwest. He walked alongside them for a few hundred meters and then slipped quietly into the trees to the side of the road and doubled back to take the northward path instead.
After sunset, he continued along the road until it became too dark to see. He camped on a small hill by the road and started his practice routine. As usual, the pebble glowed weakly and became warmer with his efforts. He scowled as he was yet again reminded of his weakness. As he tried to sleep, his failed evaluation replayed in his mind time and time again, tormenting him as he slogged his way into a fitful slumber.
For the next three days, he followed the road, making good progress. The road became rougher and started climbing uphill. Meyriv would not allow himself to slow down, despite his legs feeling increasingly leaden. I will succeed, no matter what. He repeated in his mind.
On the fourth day, a dense fog rolled in. He was forced to slow down to keep from wandering off the path. Twice he stumbled and nearly fell into a ravine*. On the fifth day, the fog began to clear, but his food was almost gone. Finally, he arrived at a deserted village. The area was permeated with the scent of rotting wood. He shivered and gave it a wide berth, trying to ignore the silence and emptiness as it unearthed painful memories from his childhood.
Eventually, he found the mountain path that led toward Irotem’s home. He hadn’t been able to get specific details about its location, but based on the vague descriptions he had heard he knew it was somewhere in the nearby mountains overlooking these lower plateaus.
As the sun set, light became visible further up the mountain. He hurried towards it and finally found his destination, a looming building that seemed to have been carved directly out of the mountain.
He knocked on the door, but no one answered. With no other options, he set up camp outside.
Sometime past midnight, Meyriv awoke in a cold sweat, feeling an unnatural sense of dread. He looked up and around, but fog enveloped everything beyond a few meters. Faint, unearthly shrieks echoed in his ears, but he couldn’t tell if they were real or products of his imagination. He picked up a stick with trembling hands and stoked the campfire back to life. His heart raced and he struggled to stay calm. He told himself that it was only a nightmare and would soon pass.
Without warning, his fire began to flicker and dim and then went out, like a candle drowning in wax. He fell onto his back, gripped by paralyzing terror. His muscles wouldn’t respond to his commands.
A meter in the air above him, a faint glow in the fog caught Meyriv’s attention. As he watched, it brightened until a glowing orb of cyan light emerged. His fear dissipated in an instant and he was mesmerized by the orb’s calming beauty. He felt weightless, as if his body were a mere vessel for his soul.
The orb slowly drifted towards him. He reached out his hand to touch it—
“STOP.” A woman’s clear voice interrupted from a few feet behind him as the door of the building opened, flooding the area with light. His hand grazed the orb, passing through it without resistance. He felt a shiver travel up his arm as it grew numb. Meyriv jerked his hand back as the voice cut through the trance. He looked over to the doorway and saw the aged woman watching him with grey eyes ablaze like radiant silver flames.
He felt a sharp pain in his head, as if claws had closed around his mind and pulled.
The orb backed away and disappeared again into the fog as consciousness fled his mind.
