50 – Misinterpreting

Saffra had traced this arrangement of runes so many times that she was sick of it. She could go the rest of her life without sketching that sequence, mentally or physically, a single instance more.

And never mind trying to manifest that design into reality. [Scorchlance] was complicated even on a basic level. She would struggle to paint it with ink on paper. Doing so with the unwieldy, chaotic force that was mana was an exercise to induce madness.

But she’d been practicing relentlessly these past few days. Even more so than usual. Part of the reason she’d performed better than average at the Institute was because she liked training. Not for the act itself, necessarily. As much as the end result inspired awe—pulling forth great gouts of flame from nothingness—magic could be frustrating enough to make her want to rip her hair out. But because training occupied her mind. She didn’t like sitting alone with her thoughts most days, so that frustration was, in a way, a salve. One she applied often.

Especially these past few days. Being back in Meridian had dredged up all sorts of unpleasant memories. She’d thought she’d gotten over what had happened at the Institute, and Isabella. But no. Never mind that she hadn’t stepped foot anywhere near the Institute; simply being in the city had brought back that bone-deep dread from those first few days after her expulsion. Of all the places in the world, why had Lady Vivi’s business taken her here?

With the sort of razor focus granted only from the agony of a thousand failed attempts, she painted the eleventh rune…the twelfth…the twentieth…until the last glowing arcane symbol of [Scorchlance] formed ahead of her, and a shoddy—but stable—imitation of Lady Vivi’s spell shone in the air.

And didn’t destabilize?

She froze, wand pointed at the spellcircle.

She’d gotten it? Just like that?

But that was how most first incantations came about. Getting closer and closer, until, eventually, an attempt crawled over that invisible line that determined ‘good enough,’ and the spell finally obeyed.

Jolting out of her shock, she incanted—before the spell fizzled away—“[Scorchlance].”

A small sun ignited in the center of the spellcircle, then hurled forward, hues of red and orange swirling and expanding into the shape of a spear. Launched with the speed of an arrow, when [Scorchlance] met the gold-rank training dummy, it burrowed into the blocky wooden torso and tore through reinforced wood to detonate. A gigantic fireball engulfed the dummy, Saffra’s shield flaring in response even twenty feet away.

She stared, wide-eyed, at the resulting carnage. The training dummy’s chest had all but blown apart. Would its self-repair enchantments even work, after that? But yes—with relief, she saw that the magical dummy was repairing, if slowly, and the flames quenching, so she hadn’t ruined the expensive practice equipment.

That had been a gold-rank dummy. Rated for level 450. A single [Scorchlance] had nearly blown it apart? She’d expected the spell to be strong, but that strong?

A smile slowly spread across her face.

“Ha!” She jabbed her wand in the dummy’s direction. “Only took two million tries! It wasn’t even hard! Coulda done it in my sleep!”

“Well done,” a familiar voice intoned.

Saffra didn’t scream, because that would be way too embarrassing of a reaction. Definitely, she didn’t jump two feet in the air and spin to face the intruder while backpedaling in a panic, wand raised defensively.

It was, of course, Lady Vivi. She had raised both hands, an obvious sign of apology, even if her smooth face and bored red eyes didn’t mirror the gesture.

“I didn’t mean to startle.”

“You didn’t startle me!” Her slamming heart begged to differ, but who cared what it had to say? “Who sneaks up on people like that! What’s wrong with you?!”

It was insane for someone as unbelievably lucky as her to speak so disrespectfully to her master, but Saffra had never been able to control her mouth when her emotions ran hot.

“I didn’t want to break your concentration,” Lady Vivi responded evenly. “It was shaping up as a promising attempt.” She nodded at the already mostly repaired dummy. “And you got it. That was your first success, I take it?”

At the praise, she swallowed and looked away. “It’s about time,” she muttered. “Only took me three times as long as it should’ve.”

A short pause. “It’s supposed to be difficult. I think you picked it up quickly.”

Saffra scoffed. “I bet you were casting spells like that when you could barely walk.”

The retort wasn’t fair. She knew her mentor was just trying to be encouraging, and Saffra barely deserved that. So why was she being difficult?

“These things come at different paces for everyone,” Lady Vivi said after a moment of silence.

“I guess,” Saffra mumbled, at least not digging her heels in about it. But as much as she knew she was being annoying, she also knew she was right. Someone who had reached level nineteen hundred…who was probably draconic royalty…had surely never struggled with magic as basic as tier four.

A week ago, she’d hardly have considered tier four as supreme magic worthy of an archmage, but she’d at least have taken pride in adding another to her arsenal. Her view on magic had been seriously warped these past several days. Watching someone erase a Titled-rank monster with a single spell…how couldn’t she see the world differently after that?

“Besides, the only reason I learned it as fast as I did was because you held my hand through the whole process.”

“That’s how teaching is supposed to work.”

Which was an annoyingly fair response. “I guess.”

After another short pause, Vivi said, “You had breakfast? I came down and couldn’t find you. I had to ask Tilly where you went.”

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“I ate.” Not much, but she had nibbled at the corner of some toast Missus Tilly had offered. So she wasn’t lying. “Didn’t sleep great,” she added in explanation, since that was the implicit question.

Vivi didn’t ask why she hadn’t slept well, or try to pry at all, which was something Saffra really appreciated. Honestly, this whole apprenticeship would’ve been a dream if not for how she’d ended up in Meridian. Saffra had enjoyed seeing Missus Tilly again, and Will and Rose might finish whatever mission they were out on in time for her to see them too, but other than that, being in this city made her…anxious. She couldn’t shake the feeling Fate was out to screw her one more time. That she would, somehow, be thrown into the warpath of a Caldimore or one of their cronies. If not the Duke himself. Or the High King. Why not? That was her luck. It was why she’d been sticking to the inn and refusing to go out. She’d learned her lesson; if she provided the slightest opening, Fate would take it.

She pushed the malaise away. “Any plans today?”

“I handled most of what I needed to. I still have a few things to deal with, but I’m waiting for certain arrangements to be made. So I’m free.”