[Unlikely Twins] [Unlikely Twins] 5 – The Makings of a Wizard

[The Scythe]

[Unlikely Twins] 5 – The Makings of a Wizard

[Unlikely Twins] 5-1 Flirting Atop The Tower

“Maybe when I’m an emperor,” Finast said, looking up at the sky.
“Will you kiss me when I’m an emperor, Melsa?” He looked over at the
girl next to him. She was a slender blonde with a round face and full
lips. She winked at him and set down the water bucket she was
holding. With her hands free, she quickly made the signs for wood and
iron, whispered, and yanked her hands back quickly. Finast’s bucket,
which he’d been resting on, jerked out from under him and flew into
her hands, dumping him to the ground.

“Ooomph!” he said as he landed. Melsa giggled. Finast rolled on side
side and leaned on one elbow. They grinned at each other.

“You know,” she threatened, “if Majordomo Sman finds you like this,
you’ll get the switch.”

“Let him try,” said Finast said, but he jumped up quickly. She tossed
his bucket back to him, picked up hers, and poured it into the wooden
tank.

The tank was big. Big enough for the two of them to reach their arms
around it and still not touch fingertips. Out of the apprentices, it
was their turn to fill it today, and it was the last chore of the
day. They stood next to it nearly at the top of the Mage De Veras’
tower. The only thing higher was the sheltered observatory telescope.

Melsa leaned over the metal railing and let go of the bucket. Before
it had fallen a handspan, she quickly made the signs and whispered
again, and the bucket hovered in mid-air. She let it down briskly,
but controlled, down the four stories of the tower to dip into the
aqueduct that ran along the wall at the back of the cobbled yard.

Finast looked down over the yard. The apprentice barracks, where they
slept except for Melsa, the gate and carriage shed across from it.
Down below them, the first floor of the tower was much wider and held
the kitchen, workshop, and hall.

Melsa brought her bucket back up, past the bedroom windows and the
master’s study.

“You know, if you make me fill the tank all by myself, I really will
call the majordomo on you,” she threatened. But the humor in her
voice said otherwise.

“Well, I’d better throw net.” Finast dropped his bucket on the
walkway and shook out his arms, limbering up. He made a big show of
it. Then, rather than wood and iron, he made the mystic sign for
water itself. He used much larger and more sweeping motions than hers
had been. As he’d been taught, he sealed the connection between
himself and the water below with its True name.

“Aqeua,” he whispered.

With the bond came the joy of feeling Power flow through him. It was
the same the first and every time he used the Art. Now he could feel
the water below as if touching it with his own hands. It was a
feeling beyond and deeper than mere physical wetness. He touched the
Truth of its nature. He sensed Water, and it was his to command.

Below in the aqueduct, at the point he focused on, the water swelled
up. Just past that, the water trailed off. While he held it in
place, the water continued to flow into his trap, swelling higher and
higher. When it reached the edges, rather than overflowing, the water
stood up in the air, bulging outwards. His hands started into
constant motion, tugging, teasing, guiding, urging. The swelling wall
of water rose several feet above the top of the aqueduct, until at
last the whole mass heaved itself up out of the waterway. Sweat
beaded Finast’s forehead, and his hands raced from bulge to bulge as
the mass rose bulkily upwards. It shed drops and small globules
continually from any place his hands weren’t fast enough to massage
into shape.

Melsa’s jaw dropped, and she nearly lost her bucket. It wobbled and
sank a bit but then she focused and regained control. When it reached
the railing, she snatched it with both hands and held it tight to her
chest. Wide-eyed, she watched as Finast directed the mass of water up
and over their heads. A few drops came free and hit them, making her
blink and wetting his hands. His face was a mask of concentration.
Under better control now being so close, he funneled the edge of the
mass into the mouth of the tank. It shrank and shrank until the last
dollop slipped into the tank with a splash.

She snapped her mouth shut. Then Melsa grinned and shook her head.
She dipped her fingers into he bucket and flicked the water at him.

“Showoff,” she said, but there was humor in her voice. Finast grinned
back at her, breathing ragged, arms hanging at his sides like dead
fish. It was the hardest thing he’d ever done with the Art. It
rivaled the hardest day ever out fishing. But he’d done it, and he
felt on top of the world.

Melsa poured her bucket into the tank and looked in.

“Well, another one just like that and we’ll be done for the day,” she
said, turning to look at him. Finast shook his head.

“Maybe,” he panted, “tomorrow.”

Catching his breath, he went on, “So, what’s the bucket count now,
would you say?” An impish grin was on his face.

“Well, at least we won’t get in trouble for being slow,” she said with
a twinkle in her eye. Velsa stepped back to the railing and lowered
her bucket over. Finast did as well, and the two of them finished the
rest of the work, joking and laughing together. What was more, they
brushed up against each other several times and she no longer shied
away. When she tipped up the last bucket, he reached up and said,

“Hang up your bucket for you?” She nodded and let him take it.

“Thanks, she said, smiling. They stood there for just a moment, close
enough to see the color of each other’s eyes. He leaned forward ever
so slightly, but she bowed her head, blushing brightly, and slipped
around him. Then Finast’s shoulders slumped, ever so slightly, and he
lowered the bucket.

“Beat you down to the workshop!” she called from the top of the
stairs. As he turned, she flashed him a smile and a wink, smoothing
over the awkward moment. Grinning back, he flung the buckets to their
hooks and chased her down the stairs, two at a time.

[The Scythe]

[Unlikely Twins] 5 – The Makings of a Wizard

[Unlikely Twins] 5-2 Rivals in Quartz

Arriving on the ground floor, Finast and Melsa checked their pace for
fear of getting caught. The majordomo would be about, making sure all
the chores were done to satisfaction before Mage De Veras’ afternoon
instruction.

They let themselves into the workshop quietly, quite early, so they
were the first to arrive. The acrid smells of acid, copper, and
pungent herbs washed over them. By now, after two years under the
Mage’s tutelage, Finast had begun to feel as nearly at home in this
room as back on My Lady with its smells of fish and the sea. On both
sides of the room were workbenches with thick wooden tops. They were
worn with years of use and had scorch and tool marks that showed a
history of apprentice mistakes. Above the tables were shelves filled
with all manner of containers, vials, spools, and baskets, while
drawers below held the bulkier materials – metal stock, rocks, even
dirt. The far wall held wide windows with heavy curtains, held open
with ties, either to fill the room with light or shut it out as their
instructions in the Art might require.

The afternoon sun reflected on the many silver rune-marks in the
room. They framed all the windows, bordered the ceiling on all four
walls, ran up and down the four corners, and also framed the door. By
now Finast recognized and could write most of them – symbols to
control fire, limit pressure, and many others, but only if they
reached dangerous levels.

The atmosphere of the workshop always lent itself to quiet tones of
voice. After standing silently together for a moment, the pair
started the normal preparations for instruction. Out of one drawer
Finast drew sheets of parchment, and from the one next to it, Melsa
drew quill pens and ink vials. These they laid out on the workbenches
for each of the apprentices who’d be arriving.

With nothing to do now but wait, Finast and Melsa watched out the
windows for the other students to come across the yard. They trickled
over as they finished their chores for the day: Kristoff, tall,
blonde, with a sharp chin and cheekbones, Kimble, middling height with
his black hair and slightly rotund look, Muhnari from the eastern
islands with his swarthy complexion and straight black hair.

The door opened and the other three came in from doing chores in the
tower: Khayven, the headboy, was tall and thin, with spectacles and
short brown hair. Drogan, of medium build, with his easy smile, cleft
chin, and sandy hair, and Julain De Veras IV, son of the Master. He
wore his straight black hair tied back. His aristocratic nose and the
square set of his jaw showed the imprint of his father.

When Julain saw Melsa and Finast standing close to each other he
scowled. Finast’s mouth turned up in a slight grin, but Melsa stepped
away to busy herself straightening the papers, ink, and quill at her
part of the workbench.

“Done so quickly?” Julain asked accusingly. “I’m going to laugh out
loud when Sman beats you for shoddy work,” he added. When Finast
first arrived at the tower he would’ve risen immediately to Julain’s
taunts, but by now he knew the odds had swung in his favor.

“At least I DO work,” he said coolly. Drogan frowned, being the one
Julain usually made do both shares of their chores.

“Stop it, both of you,” Melsa interrupted. “You’re acting like
children.” Khayven, the headboy stepped into the middle of the room.

“That’s enough. The Majordomo’s done checking up, and he’ll be here
any second.” That ended all discussion. The door opened again, and
the apprentices came in from the outdoor chores. Sensing the tension,
they paused just inside the door.

“Places,” said Khayven, and they all stepped to the usual spots at the
workbenches.

In through the door came the Majordomo. Thin and of medium height,
his brown, leathery, skin, curly hair, and loose, white robes marked
him as a desert nomad. He was well known in Bairvan for his strict,
judicious running of Mage De Veras’ affairs. He stood to one side of
the door and reviewed all the apprentices critically.

“I doubt I need to ask, but Melsa and Finast, which of you filled the
tank without using a bucket?” he said seriously. Finast summoned up
the boldness he’d learned to use when his father would ask questions
like that. He stood straighter.

“I did sir,” he said.

“You must not waste water. As this is the first time, the consequence
will be only a double amount of firewood to be cut tomorrow, and a
warning. But wasting the drink if life is unacceptable. Do you
understand?”

“Yes sir,” Finast replied, relaxing at how much worse it could have
been. The majordomo went on, addressing them all.

“The chores are done adequately,” he pronounced. The apprentices
breathed a collective sigh of relief. Reworking chores meant less
time for sessions with the Master AND the Majordomo standing over you
while you redid the poorly done chore.

Julain scowled at Finast. Finast could tell the pompous oaf had hoped
to see some real punishment to gloat over. One chore doubled was
almost nothing from Majordomo Sman. He grinned and winked back.
Julain’s eyes narrowed, and his fist clenched.

“The Master is getting the book for today’s session,” said the
majordomo. “He’ll be along momentarily.” Then they all stood
silently. The apprentices started to fidget, but the majordomo
stilled them with a glance.

Then the door opened and Master Julain De Veras III entered the room.
Looking the image of his son, only with gray streaks in his hair, he
wore deep blue robes trimmed with silver runes, the sign of his
profession. In his arms he carried a tome nearly as big as his chest.

“Good afternoon all,” he said as he made his way across the room. Near
the windows was a lectern with silver runes along all its edges, and
with a sigh of relief he set the tome upon it. The majordomo spoke.

“Master De Veras, all the work for today is complete.”

“Thank you Veladoc. As efficient as usual.” With that, Sman left
returning to his own duties. After the door closed, the Mage spoke
with humor in his voice.

“Who was it that filled the water tank today?”

“We did sir,” Finast and Melsa said together. The question was much
less fearful coming from the Master.

“And you brought up the water with no bucket, yes? the mage went on.

“Only part of it sir,” Finast explained.

“An excellent display, my boy. A wonderful show of your talent! I
was in my study when the water passed my window,” said De Veras
approvingly. Julain shot daggers with his eyes at Finast. If looks
could kill he would have been dead on the spot. The mage came over to
Finast and put his hand on his shoulder.

“Sometime I’ll show you how to increase the viscosity of the water.
Much easier to transport that way.” Julain was seething. The other
apprentices watched and edged slightly away from him, waiting for an
outburst. But the mage’s son held it in. De Veras went to the center
of the room.

“Today you will learn the principles of storing energy in physical
objects. Khayven and Julain, you separated out the quartz samples
with flaws, yes?”

“Yes sir,” Khayven said. Julain was silent.

“Very well, pass them out, one each.” Khayven opened one of the
drawers near them, took out a set of quartz crystals, and he and
Julain started passing them out.

“As you all know, Existence has three parts, the Physical, the
Spiritual, and the Power, which connects the other two and flows
between them. The new principle to understand is that physical
objects may act as reservoirs or containers for the Power.”

Julain stopped in front of Finast and held out a crystal to him. His
expression was cold. Warily, Finast held out his hand, but the Mage’s
son turned his own hand over, dropping the quartz to the floor.

Finast waited to pick it up until Julain had moved out of arms reach
before stooping to pick it up. He wished he’d known the true Name and
the Symbol for quartz already. Having it float back up to him would
have shown Julain. After all, it wasn’t Finast’s fault he had more
talent. And Julain needed to be taken down a peg anyway.

“In addition,” De Veras went on, “the more organized the structure is,
the more able that material is at containing the Power. Sometimes
this occurs naturally, as with mithril and adamantine, which are
silver and diamond but are infused with the Power, making them lighter
and stronger than would otherwise be possible. The simple quartz
crystal in your hand is also quite capable of storing Power, and with
that done physical energy can also be contained. This is what you
will learn to do today.”

The mage stepped back to the lectern, and opened his tome to a page
marked with one of the many ribbon placemarks woven into the spine.

“Let’s begin with our historical example,” he said. “Drogan, it is
your turn to read. The top of the page please.”

Even with the tension between the apprentices, they all paid close
attention. Drogan had the best reading voice of them all, and the
histories always captivated them. He went to the lectern, cleared his
throat, and began to read.

“The Crimson Heart of Dunekar the Cruel,” he said. As he read, the
silver runes running up and down the lectern began to glow faintly.
In the air above the mage’s head, images began to take shape, so he
stepped to the wall next to the door.

“In the year 463, in the dwarven Thanedom of Megulehkar, one of the
largest rubies of all time was discovered by the sons of Marekul.
Marekul was known among the dwarves as the greatest warrior and
artisan of that age.”

Following the words, the terrain of the entire continent was shown.
Then the view focused down on craggy mountain peaks. They faded and
were replaced by images of Marekul and his sons by torchlight, working
a mine face with pickaxes.

As Drogan told the tale, the images showed Dunekar, one of the sons,
cruelly murder his brothers to obtain the Heart. It followed him
through blood feuds, and laid bare his cruelty in overthrowing the
Thane and slaughtering entire families in his thirst for power. The
apprentices watched as Dunekar used the power of the Heart to win wars
and expand the bounds of the Thanedom.

When the dragon Vestemeresh invaded, they were witnesses to fiery
destruction, as well as the chaos he wrought with the stone’s power.
The souls he enslaved inside it were seen as faint shades drawn into
the Heart as the dragon ate their flesh.

After he was overthrown, they saw the all the three races, dwarves,
humans, and elves, having united to destroy him, beg the Gods to rid
Ifreann of the cursed artifact. And they saw an artist’s image of the
Goddess Emaneress, giver of rain, daughter of Oceanis, appear in Her
glory. She kissed the Heart in blessing to balance out its evil. The
image was suffused by brightness, as the image of a Goddess’ eternal
beauty cannot be captured by any scrying known to men or elves.

Finally they witnessed the Heart being given to the High Priestess
Laveena Cebela, who swore an oath to hold the Heart, but never to use
it.

Drogan finished reading, and the scene faded from view.

Mage De Veras stepped back to the middle of the room.

“The Heart of Dunekar is obviously an extreme example, but it
illustrates the principles involved, and the seriousness of the
knowledge of energy storage and magnification of the Art.”

“Let us begin.”

As always when learning the Art, time flew by for Finast, and as usual
he picked up the new true Symbols and Signs involved. They learned to
perform written spells relating to storing Power and energy, as well
as how to do it directly with hand-made Signs and spoken words.

The mage finally released them when he was satisfied with their
progress. He made special note of both Khayven and Finast’s work who,
as usual, were quicker at becoming adept. This time though, Finast
didn’t notice Julain’s angry look, nor did he see the master’s son
slip two of the crystals in his pocket when the rest were collected
and put away.

Out in the yard, the apprentices took their break before readying the
hall for supper. Most of them talked excitedly about the lesson and
their new achievements.

Muhari slapped Khayven on the back. Melsa talked about how they were
able to capture different colors of light by using a prism. Julain
and Drogan had their heads together whispering and casting glances at
Finast.

Finast was thinking about the Heart of Dunekar.

“Maybe I’ll be the one to find it someday,” he thought out loud.
Melsa grinned and poked his arm.

“Wake up, EMPEROR Gynal,” she quipped, but her smile softened it. He
started, realizing he’d spoken out loud.

“Oh yes!” Julain called sarcastically, “Finast the Great! Lording
over us with the Heart of Power in his hand. THAT’ll be the day! You
haven’t got a clue, do you?!”

“More than you!” Finast called back. “You wouldn’t have anything if
it weren’t for your father! At least I wouldn’t have to have someone
else with talent use the stone for me!” He tossed his head at
Drogan. Julain bristled but went all cold and calculating.

“You must be insane if you think a fishmonger’s son could ever rise
higher in life than the docks, Gynal!” Jualin spat the words out.

Melsa tried to step between them.

“Calm down, he’s just baiting you,” she said, but he wouldn’t have
it. Finast clenched his fists.

“Fishing CAPTAIN. There’s a difference!’ He called back.

“Oh?” Julain said archly. “So you think you’re better than me? More
talented?” He mimicked his father’s words. “Show me,” and with that
he pulled his hand from his pocket and threw one of the quartz
crystals at Finast.

With long practice at sea, Finast caught it. He was about to bark
another insult, but Julain was already holding a second crystal,
passing his hand over it, and speaking the words they had just
learned.

His stone began to glow.

Finast lifted the crystal and began the same. He made the Signs for
quartz, sunlight, heart, and the energy of the wind. As he wove their
Names into the spell, he felt their essences all around him. The
Sun’s light streaming down from the sky he caressed and guided down
into the matrix of quartz. The heat he brought in also, not only from
the sun, but also from the ground and even from the other apprentices
around him. They shivered involuntarily. A light wind touched his
skin and he guided that energy also down into the stone.

It was far more than any of them had done during instruction.

Still drawing energy, Finast looked to his opponent. The glow from
Julain’s crystal was mediocre! At best! His was shining like a star
captured from the sky, radiantly sending shafts of light from every
facet. He held it above his head and reveled in it. But that was
when he saw the look of satisfaction on Julain’s face.

And he felt something go wrong. Finast looked up just as the crystal
shivered once in his hand and then burst. The blast of light, heat,
wind, and shards hit him full in the face, and he knew no more.

[The Scythe]

[Unlikely Twins] 5 – The Makings of a Wizard

[Unlikely Twins] 5-3 The Crimson Heart of Dunekar the Cruel

The entry for the Heart from “Blakely’s History of Artifacts Since the
Age of Storms”

The entry for The Crimson Heart of Dunekar the Cruel reads as follows,

In the year 463, in the dwarven Thanedom of Megulehkar, one of the
largest rubies of all time was discovered by the sons of Marekul.
Marekul was known among the dwarves as the greatest warrior and
artisan of that age.

Marekul and his sons initially worked together to cut and polish the
gem. What they failed to realize, not being wise enough to consult
any Mage, was that the stone was a natural container for the Power.
The oldest son was killed by a blast of energy released during the
initial cuts. After consulting Even Caruthi, a principle artifacer of
the time, proper precautions were taken, and work on the stone
continued. It was formed in the shape of a humanoid heart, in honor
of the brother who died.

Dwarven nature being jealous and greedy, as is well known, the
remaining sons eventually fell to fighting over the stone. To try and
resolve the conflict, they agreed to give it to their father, who held
it as the most prized treasure of his house for many years. When he
was killed in the orc wars of 472, however, the brothers’ jealousy
returned, to the point that Dunekar, the third eldest, killed his
brothers for it. The second eldest was killed in the midst of a
heated argument over the Heart, and his blood spilled over the jewel.
It was reported that the color of the stone therafter deepened greatly
with every exposure to blood and death. Dunekar killed the remaining
three by murder when he discovered their plan to turn him in to the
Thane’s justice.

He, of course, claimed a plot to take the stone from him, and
considering the dwarven greedy nature, that may have been true.

In any case, the murders led to blood feuds between Dunekar and the
wives and children of his dead brothers. In the ensuing strife
Dunekar triumphed. In order to restore peace the Thane was obligated
to recognize Dunekar’s victory as the will of the Gods.

During the period of peace, Dunekar did what few dwarves have ever
done: studied the Art. Realizing its power, and refusing to trust it
to a hired mage, he learned to use it himself to increase the potency
of all his spells. His political power grew as well. Finally he
challenged the Thane’s authority. Once again, bloodshed followed, and
Dunekar claimed that the Thane sought to take the Heart for himself.
After several bloody battles, Dunekar arose as the new Thane. His
forces were adequate, but the power of the stone was overwhelming.
One of his actions on taking power was ordering the deaths of the
Thane’s family and heirs to prevent future blood feuds. It was then
that the conquered clans began to call him, “The Cruel,” which would
send him into a murderous rage upon hearing it. He always maintained
the enemies he fought were out to take the Heart from him.

For decades he ruled Megulehkar, and was loved by many in his own clan
because of the rewards and authority he gave them over the defeated
clans. His reign was so successful that the borders of Megulehkar
nearly doubled, conquering several other Thanedoms as well.

When Dunekar finally died in the year 560, he left the Thanedom and
the Heart to his son, but with him gone, fighting over the Thaneship
and the jewel began anew. For the next hundred years Megulehkar was
wracked by the succession wars. In their weakened state, the dwarves
were unable to resist the dragon Vestemeresh, which means Flesh
Burner. He plundered their halls and lived there for twenty years
until they united and drove him out. But the Heart he took with him.
In the goblin kingdom of Gurrecken he used its power to control six
tribes, and they plundered all the surrounding lands at his whim.

It was at this time that the power of the Heart to contain souls was
made known, as Vestemeresh held the spirits of wise or powerful
captured prisoners as slaves inside it after eating their bodies.

To defeat the dragon and his goblins required the combined strength of
the elven kingdom of Lovitaria, the human kingdom of Velelond, as well
as Megulehkar. With the dragon destroyed and the goblins scattered,
the Heart was to be given back to the dwarves, but bickering and
challenges to single combat immediately broke out. The Thane at the
time, a strong friend to the wiser and cooler human and elven heads
who advised him, declared the Heart cursed beyond worldly redemption,
owing to the murderous circumstances of its creation.

Calling up their priests, they prayed to the Gods for help. The
Goddess Emaneress, giver of rain, daughter of Oceanis answered their
prayers and appeared to them, but she refused to take it with her to
the immortal realm, saying that it was a part of this world from which
it had been drawn. Instead she agreed to bless it, to balance out the
curse. This she bestowed with a kiss, the mark of which could be seen
on the Heart ever after.

To keep it from causing further harm, it was given to the human High
Priestess Laveena Cebela, who was highly regarded as being just, and
who swore an oath to keep it hidden, but never to use it. It was
believed she took it to the elven temple stronghold of Analamdris, but
when that finally fell to the troll clans of Mktakrupt in 855 it was
apparently not there, as the troll shamans certainly would have used
it. Afterwards, there were many who searched her out to use the
heart, either to beg her for some good cause, or to force he to give
it up for nefarious purposes. So she went into hiding.

She was known to be alive at least until the year 945 when she
presided over the blessing of the world after the Second Great War of
Ifreann. This humble author had the great privilege to meet Her
Holiness at that time. After that she returned to her seclusion and
if any living know of her location, or that of the Heart, it is not
known to this author, or any of his colleagues.

The Mage Royal, The Esteemed Kalvan Blakely, Year of 967.

[The Scythe]

[Unlikely Twins] 5 – The Makings of a Wizard

[Unlikely Twins] 5-4 Finast’s Oath

Finast woke in a bed much nicer than his own. His mattress was a
cotton sack stuffed with straw, the same as the other apprentices, the
same as he’d had growing up - serviceable, but nothing to get excited
about.

This one though HAD to be feathers. It was so comfortable it made him
want to stay there all day. And since he was very tired, he went back
to sleep.

The next time he woke, he started to wonder where he was and what was
going on. When he remembered Julain and the crystal he sat straight
up.

“Why that…” he began, but a throbbing headache stopped him. He put
his hand to his head and realized why his eyes were still closed: They
had bandages over them. Sitting still, the pain passed after a moment
and he gingerly felt his face. A wide band of cloth ran around his
head, holding think, soft, pads over his eyes. When he lifted them
slightly, the light that came in was blinding, so he slid it back
down.

Then he smelled it. Somewhere near him was a bowl of Cook’s fish soup
and a loaf of bread with butter. His stomach growled and rumbled. So
he made the attempt again, lifting the bandages a bit, then getting
used to a little light, then lifting a little more. Eventually he was
able to eat one-handed while holding the bandages up to see a bit.

As he was eating there was a knock on the door. Finast looked up
towards the sound and blinded himself for a second. When it cleared
he realized he was in one of the guest bedrooms in the tower. From
the other side of the door, he heard Melsa’s voice.

“Hello?” she said.

“Come in,” he replied, happy to see her.

“Good, you’re awake. And hungry too.” She sounded amused. “The
healer said you would be. He also said you can take off the badges as
soon as your eyes are ready.” He accepted, so she began to unwind
them from around his head, and then took them off his eyes. He
squinted even in the faint light from the shuttered windows.

He continued eating, she told him how the Master had rushed in, how
the healers had been called, and how he’d spent he last two days
mainly asleep under the healer’s care.

“Two days!” he exclaimed. She went on to tell him how the Master had
discovered Julain’s deliberate use of a flawed crystal to goad Finast
into hurting himself. None of the other had been close enough to get
seriously hurt. Some had been knocked down and some had scratches.
She told him how Master De Veras had been ready to disown Julain over
the incident, but how their wife and mother had intervened. The
Master had reduced it to only a beating. Being nobles, the Master had
administered it himself, in private, out of the view of the others.
But Julain had been sleeping on his stomach and in pain since then.

“Serves that goblin right,” said Finast.

“He’s not a bad person,” Melsa countered. “But he never really got
over having to give up his room in the tower when he apprenticed with
us.”

“Even so,” Finast said, “He got what was coming to him.” Melsa
frowned and changed the subject.

“The others will want to see you, now that you’re awake,” she said.
“Finish eating while I go get them.” She left, and Finast did just
that. He felt much better.

Shortly, the small crowd of apprentices piled into the room, minus
Julain and Drogan. Kristoff went straight to the window and opened
the shutters.

“Augh!” blurted Finast, throwing his hands over his eyes.

“Oh, sorry!” Kristoff said, reaching to close them again.

“No, it’s alright. I need to get used to the light anyway,” Finast
said. He took his hands from his eyes slowly, blinking furiously.
They all crowded around and congratulated him on his recovery.

“And your face won’t even hardly scar!” said Kimble enthusiastically.

“Kimble!” exclaimed Melsa.

They explained that the healer mainly eliminated the cuts from the
quartz shards. Finast could only feel one, just under his right eye.
He knew he’d been very lucky.

Muhnari congratulated him on how powerful of a spell he’d cast.

“I just can’t believe Julain would go that far,” Khayven said.

“I bet now you’d think twice about trying to find the Heart of
Dunekar, eh Finast?” Kristoff said.

“What do you mean?” he countered.

“Well, I mean a single piece of quartz did all this. And the Heart is
so much more powerful. It’s crazy.” Finast remembered the look on
Julain’s face and felt a hot fire inside.

“No it’s not,” he declared. “It’s not crazy, it’s Power. I’m going
to be a mage, and I’m going to find the Heart and use it to become the
most powerful mage Ifreann has ever seen!” he said emphatically.

“Whatever the cost.”

He thought, but didn’t say, “Then no one will be able to treat me like
Julain.”

The other apprentices were silent.

“Oh, you don’t mean that,” said Melsa in a worried voice.

“Oh yes I do,” Finast replied, his voice gaining heat. “Oceanis as my
witness, I WILL obtain the Heart of Dunekar, may he consign me to
Chaos if I don’t!”

The room hushed. Kimble‘s mouth gaped. The room darkened slightly as
a cloud passed across the sun. Through the center of the cloud, a
single ray shown down upon the Mage’s tower and lit the room.
Finast’s eyes met Melsa’s, and he saw horror there.

And then the moment was over. The cloud moved on its way, and all was
normal again. But the mood in the room had changed. They all knew
the Sign. The Gods had heard and borne witness to the oath.

The others tried to chat a bit more, but the mood was a bleak one now,
and they slowly trickled out. Melsa looked at him as if he were
headed to the gallows.

“It’s all right, Melsa,” he tried to reassure her. “I will do it.”
She smiled wanly and nodded, but he could tell she didn’t believe him.

“I’ll see you later,” he said as she left. She didn’t reply.

It would be a few more hours before Finast got up and left the room.
Most of that time he spent looking out at the horizon, deep in
thought.

[Confusion]

Somewhere else, deep below the surface of Ifreann, a dark feast was
taking place. Beings of an alien, incomprehensible nature grasped and
tore and pulled and nibbled and devoured. One of them, more easily
sated than the rest, relaxed for a moment, enjoying the presence of
its companions and their revels. Many of their kind paid little heed
to the mortal realm above, but this one often took interest.
Occasionally it even acted as a hunter of special meals.

Something pricked at its senses now. Ahhhhh, there it was. A
foolish, young surface dweller it was. Now that the young human had
the creature’s attention, it would have to investigate more. But that
was for later. When it was ready it would take up its sometimes-name
of Confusion and visit the mortal realm on another hunt. But for now
the latest feast was not yet over. With a razor sharp thought-claw,
it sliced off another strip from the still screaming soul. It nibbled
delicately, savoring the flavors of terror and pain.

[Finast]

Finast spent several more years at De Veras’ tower learning the Art.
He grew to become an excellent Mage. In time, the shadow of Julain’s
crystal and Finast’s oath faded somewhat, although the two spoke
little to each other afterwards.

For his masterwork to become a Mage, Finast purchased a raw diamond
and shaped and enchanted it to enhance and reflect whatever was
directed towards it. Spells became more powerful. Speeches became
more inspiring. Songs became more beautiful. Light became more
dazzling. Master De Veras and Finast presented it together as a gift
for Lord Tolwyn VII’s birthday. Tolwyn was a well-known music lover,
but had horrible pitch and rhythm. His court was often obliged to
endure shudderingly bad performances. So the gift was received with
great appreciation by the Lord, who rewarded them both handsomely, and
with real enthusiasm by his court, who now couldn’t get enough of the
works by De Veras and his apprentices.

Kenemar, Finast’s father, was of course happy for his son and visited
regularly. And Finast was happy too, save for his oath, which he
never once forgot in all the short time he was the toast of Bairvan.

[Admin] Here ends [Unlikely Twins] 5. Garan’s section 6 will be
coming soon.