#dragonhero

The wind howled sorrowfully outside Janus’ chamber window.  Muttering to himself about the noise, he remained seated at his desk, stubbornly refusing to admit defeat to the intrusions of the outside world.  He ground the tip of his quill into the page of his book, spreading a blue-black splotch out from the corner of the page.  Had he realized what he was doing, he would have been even more irritated at the loss of the expensive ink.

After breakfast, Photass got up from the table and started wandering off to the door.  “I’ll see you for lunch, bro.  I’ve got target practice until Fynder is awake and free for training.”

“Keep an eye on your arrows,” Raspan said to his retreating back.  “The gardener found more in the hedges the other day and wanted me to tell you that if he finds any more, he’ll tell Fynder.”

Photass waved away his words nonchalantly in a manner that lead Raspan to believe that even after breakfast, his brother was still not fully awake.

Raspan stood at the bottom of a staircase seemingly made of crystalline starlight.  It rose up into the sky, climbing toward the brightest star in the sky, an eight pointed star known as the Dragonstar by the elves.  Stepping on to the stairs, the young elf felt a weightlessness about him that made each step easier.  He ascended what seemed to be miles of stairs in mere minutes, and soon he was so high up that he could not see below him. 

A thought occurred to the elf as he poured from the water pitcher into the cup.  “You say you’re Janus’ assistant, and no longer a student,”

Merrin nodded.  “For at least a year.”

Raspan arched an eyebrow.  “You seem awfully young for a journeyman wizard.”

The boy grinned taking a seat at the foot of the bed.  “Janus doesn’t normally take pupils.  I was an exception, he made that very clear.  You’re lucky too, in that regard.”  He leaned forward, a curious wonder in his eyes.  “What kind of practice do you have with spells?  Illusion?  Enchantment?  Or do you have a connection to the fey?”

Raspan cleared his throat.  “I … don’t actually know any spells,” he admitted sheepishly.

Merrin’s expression started to sour with disappointment.  Raspan actually felt bad about saying as much; the young mage was clearly excited to meet another magically gifted person.  However, a moment later Merrin’s features became quizzical and introspective, a look that was completely foreign to the beaming bright face he had on not a minute ago.

“Are you cursed, or maybe under some other spell?” the boy asked suddenly.

Taken aback, Raspan merely shook his head.

“Did you display any kind of tendency toward innate sorcery?”

“No, I’m just …”

Merrin’s face lit up.  “Then you’re here to study forgotten magic!”

Raspan nearly fell out of his chair.  How perceptive could a child be?

“What is it you’re here for?  Time magic?  A warlock pact?”  Raspan was about to answer when the boy threw up his hand.  “No wait!  You must be here to learn sword magic!”

“… Yes.  That’s exactly right,” Raspan said, a smile born of the ludicrous situation tugging at his lips. 

“That’s amazing!” Merrin beamed.  “Sword magic has almost disappeared from magical practice in the past hundred years, it’s rare that even elves choose that path nowadays.”

“Just a second,” Raspan said, still smiling in disbelief.  “How in the name of the court of Latherean did you guess that?”

Merrin folded his arms.  “Well, you said you didn’t know any spells.  There’s more than one way to use magic, right?  Some curses indirectly bestow magical talent, and many sorcerers manifest there talents without knowing what it is.  But you still might have recognized that as magic.  I asked those just to be sure.”

“However, there are still lost and rare magic schools to be accounted for, you might have shown interest or promise in those.  These are really the only things I thought Janus would take someone in for.  That’s when I realized that before a hundred years ago, elves were talented in the blending of martial and magical combat.  I just put two and two together.”

It seemed to Raspan that this boy’s version of simple was more complex than what most other people would call complex. 

“But a real swordmage!” Merrin continued.  “That’s far more interesting than just having another wizard around.  I’d like to see what it’s like when your practice begins; I’ve heard it’s quite a sight and no mistake!”

Raspan chuckled.  “As long as Janus doesn’t mind, I would like that, if you don’t mind showing me a bit of what you’ve picked up.  I’ve read a lot of magical theory, and I wouldn’t mind having some of the theses I’ve read up on backed up by a real mage.”

“You have a deal, then,” Merrin smiled.  He slid off the bed, and waved over to the door.  “Why don’t I show you around?  Despite appearances, this place isn’t that big, and you’ll have plenty of time to study later.”

Raspan nodded, but remained seated.  “That sounds good,” he said, tearing off a hunk of the bread on the tray and dipping it in the stew, “but I’d rather not waste this food you brought me.”

“Oh, right,” Merrin said sheepishly.  “Forgot about that.”

I hope that was enough Merrin for you all, because the next bit is going to cut away to some other people.  It may be more interesting than what amounts to basic (yet necessary) characterization. 

After his lesson, Raspan was told to return to his room, where his studying could begin.  He returned to the room to find a tome on a desk near the window that had not been there before, entitled “Theories of Arcane Forms and Their Practical Applications.”  A marker had been in it denoting the beginning of a section on elven practices.  Despite the stodgy title, Raspan found the text to be descriptive and intuitive, using examples and comparisons for many of the ideas presented.

So engrossed was he in the book that he did not realize how hungry he had grown until much later when his stomach growled angrily.  He was about to place the marker on his page to seek out sustenance when he heard a knock at the door.  He figured it was his new teacher; he promptly hurried to the door and pulled it open. 

His greeting was caught in his throat as he realized his guest was only four feet tall.

Standing at the door to Raspan’s room was a young human boy who looked to be barely past his tenth winter.  He was dressed in simple, loose clothing of bright blue, a joyful look that was completely at odds with his surroundings.  The top of his head was wrapped in a red bandana in the style of street children, but his eyes held an innocent cheerfulness that only the young seem to have.  In his hands he held a platter laden with food.

“Hello!” the young lad said with a smile that could have disarmed a chained gauntlet.  “You must be the new student!  I bet you’re hungry, right?  This is for you.”

Raspan looked down at the contents of the platter.  It contained a bowl of rich, fragrant stew, a small loaf of fresh bread, and a crystal pitcher of clear water with a small clay cup.  He nodded his affirmation, he was still stunned by the surprising guest.  The boy lifted the platter toward him, and Raspan took it from him gently and placed it on his desk.

“If that’s not enough for you, I’ll show you where to get some more,” the boy said.  “I’m not sure how much elves eat, so I brought a fair helping.”

“That’s very generous,” Raspan said, finally finding his tongue.  “I wasn’t aware of any other students in Janus’ care.”

“Oh, I’m not a student anymore, really,” the boy said.  “I’m more of an assistant.”

“I see,” Raspan answered, unsure of why anyone would willingly expose themselves to Janus for longer than was needed. 

“By the way, my name’s Merrin,” the boy said.  “I’ve been here for a while, so if you have any questions, I’ll be glad to help.”

Raspan nodded appreciatively.  It was good to know that there was a friendly face sharing the tower with him.