To Become An Aether Master
Cetirnen cursed as the spell fizzled and snapped, arcs of power burning new scores into the wooden table, one tendril even whipping out and shattering is a shower of sparks against his personal shield. A headache began to form behind his eyes, and the words of the textbook wavered in and out of form.
Obviously, he was done for the day.
He closed the book with a brutal snap, shoved his chair back from the table, and stalked from the stone chamber.
"Neo'Savok, really, must you lock yourself in that drafty chamber every day?" Vadil whined, "You should be holding court, letting your people see you, not... not isolating yourself like some stuffy Magician!"
Cetirnen's green eyes flashed. "You mean, let the courtiers see me, not my people. My people, my real people, see me plenty."
Vadil grabbed Cetirnen's arm, forcing both of them to stop. "Those scruffy peasants aren't the ones keeping you on your throne! You're doing yourself no favors by tossing the courtiers and other important members of the nobility from Castle Renosant! And the succession! You need--"
"I need," Cetirnen coldly interrupted, "for you to release my arm and see yourself out."
Vadil snatched his hand back as if burned, face flashing first red then pale with anger.
"I would suggest you return to your manor," Cetirnen continued. "Perhaps some time in contemplation will assist you in seeing the world for what it is."
"Yes, my lord." Vadil ground out. "I will do so. May I expect a summons when I am to return?"
"Yes. I will summon you when your services are required."
Cetirnen watched the man go, face showing no expression, but inwardly he was rejoicing. Vadil was just as much a viper's son as any of the other courtiers, for as much as he pretended to be loyal. Cetirnen knew of four different noble Houses the man reported to, and Vadil had begun making overtures to a fifth. Of course, this meant that he'd now have to ferrit out the new spies for the Houses, but perhaps the new would give him a better game than Vadil ever had.
"F'give me, m'lor, but us girl's'll be right pleased to see that 'un go," came the soft voice of Mashi, one of the castle servants.
He nodded, acknowledging the statement without turning to look at her. Mashi, bold enough when no one could see, became a timid mouse as soon as he leveled his gaze upon her. She was also, timidity and commoner status aside, his teacher for the magics of Air and Light.
"The rank test went rogue on me again," Cetirnen said, gesturing for her to follow him as he continued his walk through the hallways.
"Air'll do that, m'lor, 'specially with you bein' Earth-natural and all." Mashi slipped into place a few steps behind him, voice barely loud enough for him to hear. "It wants a light hand on th'reins, not rigidity. Air needs room t'flow an' flex, even moreso than Water does."
Cetirnen nodded once more, running her advice through his mind. It was difficult to remember to let Air just flow, when Earth needed to be watched and guided carefully. But if he could master Air, if he could ascend through the ranks, he'd finally have the last piece of the puzzle that had eluded him since he had first begun studying the other disciplines.
He'd begun early enough. Earth from the time he was born. Shadow at fifteen. Fire and Water, secretly, and with different teachers, at sixteen. Light and Air were the last two he needed to learn and master, in order to reach that... knot, that strange longing that rested at the core of his being.
Never mind that nobles never 'polluted' their abilities with other specialties. Never mind that he had already been declared a Crystal-ranked Strategist at the age of fifteen, one of the youngest Earth-masters in history, rivaled only by...
Aether magicians.
"M'lor?" Mashi's voice broke through his thoughts, bringing him back to the present. "Be there somethin' wrong?"
"No, no, I'm fine." Cetirnen waved off her concern for him. "I was just considering how I'd approach the problem next."
Mashi laughed softly, "Oh, m'lor... iffen others had your dedication, th'world'd be a better place."
"Or, at least, a more studious place," Cetirnen said drolly.
He held his breath, watching as the wisp of magic uncurled into a pale blue-white flower. Air magic flowed through him like a gentle breeze, content to exist within the boundaries he had given it, so long as he gave it its head.
It was like a fractious mount, Cetirnen mused, even as the flower expanded into a fluttering rush of petals that wove about over the desk. Air was unwilling to be broken to harness, but content to work as a partner.
Finally, his body protesting, he remembered to exhale and breathe again. This was the second-level Air test, putting him as Wind-ranked, and he felt confident in his ability to breeze through the third and fourth level tests. All he had needed was that final push, that final reminder that Air was not Earth.
Mashi sat a few feet behind him, watching in approving silence as he changed the rush of petals into a swirl of cross-patterns, mimicking the currents of a storm. Cetirnen shivered at the feeling of building power, as each rank test unlocked a greater flow of strength through him.
He started to panic, as the flow threatened to overwhelm his boundaries, to sweap across his mind and scour it clean with a rush of pure power.
"Calm," Mashi whispered softly. "Calm, m'lor. Th'tighter you grip, th'more it wriggles."
Cetirnen struggled with himself for one brief, terrifying moment, fighting back the impulse to grab and hold that would have him dead at Air's fickle hands. He teetered there on the edge, staring into the pale infinity that was Air's pool, knowing that one wrong move would send him tumbling down to be scoured clear.
With a grimace, he clamped down on his own emotions, sent a prayer off to Ilmea, Lady of Air, and... let go.
For one brief, infinite moment, he was terrified that he'd done the wrong thing, as the rush of Air rose up, filling his channel and spilling... up? The rush of power rose above the channel, standing like a solid wall, not a finger of Air straying beyond the boundaries he had set, but stretching up, and up, and up...
"That's it, m'lor, you have it," Mashi's soft voice was reassuring, connecting him once more with the external world.
Cetirnen breathed a sigh of relief as he watched the storm-pattern of petals continue their weaving path, unruffled by his struggle. He hadn't failed.
Storm-ranked Air master.
Only one left.
The only one he hadn't attempted before.
He licked his lips, watching the swirl of petals, then exerted his will once more. Slowly, ever so slowly, the storm-patterns merged, meshed, swirling about one another. A tiny tornado swirled atop the desk, growing taller and thinner as he fed it power, beating at his control, demanding more power, more leeway, more freedom.
He refused. He wouldn't control it minutely, but he wouldn't let it do whatever it desired. It was power, and it was his - partner or not, it had to work within his rules, just like he had to work within its rules.
It struggled once more, pressing at his control, testing his boundaries...
And then settled, swirling contentedly, a tiny tornado perched atop his desk, as tall as him.
"You did it, m'lor," Mashi breathed. "Gale-rank Air master."
With a rush of relief, Cetirnen allowed the tornado to collapse into a pile of petals, then let the petals themselves dissolve back into pure power. Power flooded back through him, filling that last, empty part of his soul.
"Tis a shame tradition keeps you from declaring y'self, m'lor." Mashi spoke briskly, as she set a glass of water next to his elbow. "Imagine th'shock! Our own Neo'Savok, an Aether master!"
Cetirnen gave a tired chuckle, taking a sip from the cup of water. "I'd rather keep this a secret."
"Oh, aye, m'lips are sealed, m'lor."
"Good. I'd rather people underestimate me."