The last tome I am able to read through from Val Maxis’s library is The Combat Mage. It covers casting in close quarters, when being attacked by an armed foe, while bound, while mounted, when grappling, and all other manner of altercations. There is a chapter on the intricacies surrounding counter magic and why it is so difficult. What I get out of it is that counterspells are not something to rely upon but, in rare circumstances, I may be in a position to do it and should know how.
Val Maxis summons me. This time to his office, not the elaborate private study as before. This is the first clue I have that this meeting will mark the end of my apprenticeship. Before I go to the office, I pack all my things and return the borrowed tome to its shelf. I have never owned much, even when I settled in Nodkis for near on a decade, and everything I now possess can be carried on my person. No need to be rude, however, so I do not wear my bedroll and pack to the meeting.
I knock on the door and it opens. Val Maxis is sitting at his desk with a letter bearing his mark sealed in front of him. Probably some kind of kind of document that officiates the ending of my education here—a very Val Maxis thing to do. Closing the door behind me, I sit across from him. The chair is too small for my frame—most chairs are—and even sitting I tower over him.
Though strict and bound to rules of his own design, the man is still a pedagogue and he explains his position in depth, probably hoping to reach me. Even though I know he is brilliant in magic, he doesn’t seem to understand entirely why I have done as I have in my time here.
“You have no patience for the proper way of things! One cannot put the cart before the horse. I have been teaching for forty years and never have I encountered a student who cannot learn this simple rule. It is your age, perhaps. I shall not make that mistake again. Young minds are pliable and ripe for instruction, like a new block of marble in the sculptor’s hands. Yours is already chiseled into a form that leaves little room for change.”
It is an apropos description that I hadn’t expected from him, but the pot is certainly calling the kettle black. I keep quiet and he continues.
“There is fire in you, I see. I had hoped to harness that and mould you into a potent wizard. One that could have even administered the tower in my absences or succeeded me when I retire. That was misguided of me. I did not know what kind of man you were when I took you in. Now I see that you are one whose ambition clouds his judgment! I had high hopes that you had improved your control over it after running off with those scouts to stare at some arcane run-off. You seemed settled after that and the reports of your performance during your nighttime missions were favorable. Yet now you are back to stealing knowledge from my libraries, and I cannot have that.”
Wait, he had thought I had changed and was pleased with those torturous few weeks of being on my best behavior? And he had hoped I would take over for him and spend the rest of my days surrounded by children, dedicated to shaping the little minds of the next generation of mages? This man knows nothing about me, not that I would share it freely anyway. Still, a man of his intellect I would have expected to understand that my ambition would drive me to leave eventually. Perhaps, to him, ambition is merely an academic construct. Not something that will lead to me steering the nations of the world toward their final sunset.
I become more settled in my mind about what he is working up to. It will be for the best to leave this place. I will simply start where I left off: gather and recruit followers to increase my reach, groom a charismatic figurehead to be the face to my voice, and spread my influence over the world through its own shadows. I can acquire tomes, as I have before, and teach myself enough magic to rival even Val Maxis. I can craft spells of my own making, now that I know its shape. I can travel far and wide and learn to master things that he might never have heard of.
Administer the tower while he’s gone? Folly. Although…
For a moment I contemplate building my influence through a network of indoctrinated wizards that go forth from the walls of the tower like busy bees to do my bidding.
No. I would not be able to do such a thing under Val Maxis’s nose and it would impair the plan’s efficacy were I to kill him before my network was self-sustaining. I am in no worse position starting from scratch.
“And so, though it pains me to turn an apprentice away, I think it for the best for you to leave. I can no longer be your master. Here, I outlined it all in this report along with a letter for your next master, should you find one. Perhaps it will help him or her to unlock your potential as I failed to do.”
He hands me the sealed envelope and wrings his hands when he leans back, as though unconsciously washing his hands of the situation. His eyes are slightly glazed and I wonder if he was up all night deliberating and preparing for my dismissal. Perhaps he fought with his desire to harness my capability and his love of having things done his way.
A long sigh precedes his last words to me, “You may remain in the tower until the end of the week, if you need. Do not fool yourself into believing that you will be able to make it out with any of my tomes. From now, they are strictly off-limits. I ask that you not force my hand into more drastic measures than this polite stipulation.”
I stand and look down at him from my full height. This man who took me in and taught me to shape the arcane. Who saw greatness in me. Who allowed me to steal knowledge when he could have kept me out. Who hoped that I might one day succeed him. One day, I will have to kill him in order to realize my purpose.
But that day is not today.
Instead, I agree with him. “It is for the best. Good-bye, Val Maxis.”
There is no need to berate him, no need to explain the ways he failed me as a teacher, how his rules confine him. He does not share the heights of my ambition and chooses not to see past the quaint, little life he has built for himself here. It would be a waste of my breath to sit and explain where things went sour between us, and would ultimately serve no purpose. Even if he were to change his mind after all is said and done, I would not stay.
He seems a little surprised that is all I have to say after laying his thoughts bare to me. Perhaps he’d thought I would beg to stay or try to explain my viewpoint. I have never felt the need to correct people when they are wrong. Why start now?
I turn and exit his office without further ado. I stop by my room and pick up my things—which are already conveniently packed—and leave immediately. Though I could stay until the end of the week, there is nothing here for me. I do not require any more of his teachings, his library, or his hospitality. I’ve incurred enough debt to him already. It will be a burden lifted to spend not one more day in the tower.
Outside, the sun is high in the sky and the air is warm. Summer’s end means that the harvest season is nigh upon the farmvilles to the south and Nodkis merchants will be hiring extra help to transport the yield near and far. This time of year, it will be easy to find work, and I will need money and supplies to begin my operation in earnest. So, as my owl soars high and unrestrained above me, vexed by the noon day’s sun, I turn reluctantly toward Nodkis. It will take a few, sustained days on foot but my stride is long and my path clear. Clearer now than ever before. It will not be an easy road but it is one I was always destined for.
The Wordbearer Chronicles is a dark fantasy web series with new passages on Tuesdays.
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