4 – Void Magic

Apparently, void magic affinities were rare. Like really rare. And having an excellent one, well, I guess that was just unheard of. Linli had a great time lording it over everyone that he was right, and making Erl pay up his ten gold coins. Myrl was quick to point out that having an excellent affinity didn’t exactly count as overpowered, considering the fact that Linli himself had a perfect affinity. Bagavash clapped me on the shoulder in his signature style and said, “We’ll make a wizard out of you, yet.”

Senior Archmage Alynur just gave me a look that I couldn’t quite read.

Dinner consisted of the [Fireball]-cooked trout the boys brought home from the lake that Erl cooked up with some spring asparagus and potatoes. Bagavash dragged out a chair from a supply closet on the bottom floor of the tower, but there was a brief debacle over where it should be placed.

The dining table was a circular stone masterpiece of masonry and engravings. It sat in the center of the circular main room of the tower. A spiral stair wrapped around the sides, giving access to various rooms that lined the outer wall. The light of the setting sun filtered in through windows high up in the tower’s facade, but the main light was supplied by an enormous blue crystal that hung in the air halfway up the tower. It gave off an otherworldly blue glow that cast everything in a mysterious light.

Anyway, when Bagavash brought out the extra chair for me, everyone had their own opinion about where it should go. Linli liked his position where he could see the entrance to the kitchen, and Myrl didn’t want to scoot closer to Erl because he claimed he smelled bad. The wizards had been sitting in a five-pointed star orientation for lord knows how long, and I was messing up their groove.

Eventually, to make it fair, everyone’s chair was moved to form more of a hexagon shape of six equally placed chairs. There was some general grumbling, and I felt bad to have been the cause of it. But soon everyone seemed to forget when we dug into dinner.

Erl was an excellent cook. I couldn’t remember the last time I had a meal that tasted this good. Afterward, everyone got out their pipes, and we sat, leaning back in our chairs and blowing smoke rings up toward the suspended blue crystal. Well, they blew smoke rings. I was still trying my best to appreciate the smoke without getting light-headed.

Senior Archmage Alynur broke the silence. “Necromancer attacks have been getting worse. I received a report today that children are going missing on the eastern border.”

“And why doesn’t the White Tower send wizards to deal with it?” Bagavash said, clearly a little frustrated. “If they have the audacity to tax those lands, they should at least have the decency to protect them.”

“From what I understand, they sent quite a large force,” Alynur explained. “But the Archsorcerer is getting crafty. It seems the necromancers have been busy in that wasteland we exiled them to.”

“Can we not talk of such things?” Erl said. “It is young master Mark’s first night with us. It would be a shame to mar it with discussion of the dead eaters.”

“Right you are, Erl,” Bagavash said. “We should be celebrating. After all, we have a void wizard in our midst!”

“Can we break out the ale?” Linli said, looking to the Senior Archmage with pleading eyes. “Certainly this warrants it. We haven’t had a new member since Myrl joined us, and that was nearly seventy years ago now.”

Everyone turned toward Alynur expectantly. He cast his eyes around the room. “Oh, I suppoooose,” he said, finally conceding.

There was general cheering at that.

“But just the hop ale. We’re saving the barley wine for the Beltane Festival with the witches.”

“Aye, Senior Archmage,” Linli said. “And those lustful minxes will need it too, lest we fall victim to their charms and end up one of their husbands.”

“Just fetch the ale,” Erl bellowed at Linli.

Linli gave a dismissive wave and scurried into a cellar. He returned moments later with six flagons of ale, three clutched in each hand. An impressive feat for a gnome.

The ale was good, though not as good as the home-cooked meal. I guess advances in refrigeration and yeast science really helped the flavor of beer. As I sipped at the foamy head that tasted slightly of homebrew, I had the thought that I might be able to help them improve this…

After a moment, I asked, “Can you guys tell me a little more about void magic? I’m not quite sure I understand it.”

Glances passed between the wizards, no one seeming to want to take up the responsibility of the explanation. It was Bagavash who finally cleared his throat. “Void magic is the least understood of all the magic paths. To put it simply, void magic is the magic of the primordial nothingness. Perhaps your experience as a dimensional traveler gave you that affinity. It is said that the void is what connects the dimensions.”

Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.

“So I have the power of nothing,” I said, a little disheartened.

“You have the power to turn things into nothing, lad. There’s a big difference.”

Now it made sense why the wizards were so astonished when I received my void magic affinity. While fire magic could burn things and water magic could presumably flood or freeze things, void magic had the power to make things simply stop existing… That was a formidable power indeed.

“Of course, that won’t be till you get to far higher levels,” Bagavash clarified. “At the beginning, I’ll wager you’ll have trouble vaporizing an apple. Let alone an undead warrior.”

“That’s the second time I’ve heard you guys mention levels,” I said. “How do you know what level you are?”

They all looked at me a little dumbfounded. After a beat, Bagavash said, “The system, of course. Didn’t you have one in your world?”

“System?” I said. “I’m not sure I understand…”

“Well, you’ll know soon enough. Tomorrow we start your training.”

After we finished our ales and the pipe leaf was naught but ash, Bagavash led me to what would become my room in Bluebell Tower. “It’s not much,” he said as he pushed open the creaky wooden door of the ground-floor room. “But it’ll be good for ponderin’.”

I wasn’t quite sure what he meant by “ponderin’,” but I was too tired to ask him to explain it. The room was simple and small, almost like a monk’s cell. There was a narrow bed with rough-looking blankets, a small desk positioned in front of a single window, and a tapestry on the wall depicting an almost psychedelic mandala-style symbol.

We stood there in awkward silence for a moment. “Well, er… goodnight,” Bagavash said, scratching the back of his head. “I’ll see you first thing tomorrow morning.”