Leaving for mage's spring

We left early the next morning.

It was barely dawn as we passed through the ornate doors of the royal palace. The marketplace, although not bustling as most traders were nursing hangovers, was quite full of middle-aged housewives.
The mage Cirl Tieryn led the way towards the main gate. He wore, like all mages, a plain dark cloak bearing the insignia of Mage’s Spring. His mount, a pretty dark grey stallion called Wind, was a properly trained warhorse-his gaze never wandering from his master’s goal.

My horse was a stocky strawberry gelding. She was undoubtedly shorter than any other horse in the company. So, combined with my own meager height, I was convinced that, if it weren’t for the mages flanking me, I would have wandered off and gotten lost in an instant.

***

“You’ll need a proper mount for this journey. Her champion has arranged for you to take one of the palace horses,” Cirl had led us to the stables after last night’s council and shooed us towards the animals.

I started towards a handsome black stallion and offered him an apple from my pocket. He ate it happily and blew on my hand as I rubbed his back.

Lance came over to pat its head, his eyes twinkling as he said solemnly, “Too big for you.” Then, he went to check out a horse in the next stall.

I realized 2 things.

One-he was right, and
Two-most, if not all, the horses in the stable were as tall as this fella.

Sighing resigningly, I was not so undetermined to visit each horse before confronting Cirl with my problem. He was conversing with Deke when I found him and they laughed good-naturally at my predicament. Finally, Deke suggest that I take a foal of his favourite childhood mount.

Once we reached the royal forest, we split into two groups-Cirl, who would lead the magelets on their quests, would ride leisurely while Deke and the other mages would ride hard directly to Mage’s Spring to prepare for the trainee’s arrival and graduation ceremony.

As per Numaine’s orders, we rode beside Cirl as Wind picked his way through the foliage. The trainees, twenty-seven in all, rode behind us on warhorses-apparently, the mage’s training curriculum included basic weapons training so the trainees had to spend one year learning the ways of a page. A group of five certified mages trailed the magelets, barking at them endlessly.

When we reached the border of Erindiur, Cirl systematically ordered the trainees to set camp against the cliffs. The sun’s glow was waning rapidly and the trainees hurried to complete their chores before nightfall.

We had a light supper of stew and bread before unrolling our sleeping bags (the hard rock made it impossible to pitch tents and the overhanging buff sheltered us anyway.) I fell asleep listening to the older mages chant as they drew protective circles around the camp.

***

The first thing I noticed the next morning was that my muscles had turned to mush. It’s one thing to ride a horse for say, a few hours but its completely different when you are doing it all day while silently praying for your frisky mount to stop hopping.

Lance noticed my wince as I rolled up my sleeping bag. Grinning annoyingly, I curbed the urge to smack his head just for being so perky first thing in the morning.

We had a light breakfast of bread and cheese before I mounted my ready horse-Cirl insisted that we were NOT allowed to do any ‘unneccessary chores’ like cleaning our horses and tack. Since Lance and I didn’t know how to do those things anyway, we agreed. Still, I’m gratefully to the poor trainee who helped me with my horse-she was in perfect condition.

Patting my gay little mount happily, I waited as the trainees scrambled up their own mounts and positioned themselves. Stationed behind Wind, I nearly fell off my horse when Cirl split the cliffs to reveal bleak, yellow sand.

I had expected to go around the cliff…not through it!

I heard Lance’s low grumble about Mages and their early morning nonsense as I followed everyone in. Cirl then closed the magically-created arch and turned to address the trainees.
“Wind,” he paused to pat his mount, “The air you breathe. With control as fine as sand, as torrent as gale, you will lead this power. Command it.”

At that, the trainees dismounted and spread around the desert perimeter. Actually, it wasn’t even a proper desert. It was just a circular patch of sand enclosed by cliffs. Overhead, the sun was still shining and I suspected that the circular desert, with a radius of less than a kilometer, was specially chosen and isolated for this quest.

Each magelet was now standing back to back with a cliff wall, about fifty meters apart from each other. They waited patiently as the five mages ascended magically created stone steps to platforms some two to three hundred meters above the sandy ground. The steps shifted back into the wall and the mages then raised their hands and, with a loud “whoosh”, they created a shimmering rope of fire with their adjacent partners. The five lines of fire formed a large five pointed star that was suspended above the trainees.

Cirl went to the center of the desert, turning Wind as he looked at each magelet in the eye. When he finally finished, he bellowed a lout “BEGIN” and galloped Wind towards us as the first magelet lifted his hands and created a huge whirlwind of sand. The ‘hurricane’ spiral this way and that, doing a little dance and finishing in a complicated knot that died once it hit the mages fire star above. The sand fell back down in a controlled manner and not a grain hit any of the people or horses present. The presentation took about half an hour for each trainee as they displayed their skill in using the wind to control the sand.

My personal favourite was a sand-made flowing waterfall that later turned into a shifting fire-like marvel.

There were, of course, many other sand movies, as I liked to call them. Among which were flying horses and even a full battle between a giant and a knight! Each display would grow from small to big and always ended when the sand reached the fire star above. By the time the last trainee had finished his display with a large sand firework display, the sun had long set and everyone scramble wearily to eat the food that Lance, Cirl and I prepared. Sleep came easily that night and I remember dreaming of a sand Lance and I fighting a large sand dragon.

The next morning, breakfast was a fast but heavy affair as Cirl told us we would not be eating lunch. After that, the mages and magelets took their spots again and I wondered what would happen next.

Nothing happened.

For at least an hour, the mages and magelets sat on the sandy ground and meditated. Lance and I were getting bored of brushing the horses when, at once, everyone in the arena jumped up and started waving their hands rapidly.

Sand flew everywhere as all the magelets packed them into shapes that whirled and swam in concertion. It was the scene of a busy ocean floor- fishes of different sizes and types swam and fed on small worms and plankton. Crabs scuttled to and fro, dancing in disarrayed formations. Sharks chasing a dolphin with a sand Cirl on it. Mermaids playing musical instruments as little merchildren played catch with several octopi. It was so beautiful and precise, not a single grain of sand stayed in place for over a second. Overhead, the pictures changed rapidly as a large boat came and shadowed the ‘ocean’, nets flung down to catch the fish.

Lance, Cirl, the mages and I watched in silence as the display continued throughout the day, changing from scenario to scenario. There was even a scene of the marketplace we passed last morning, complete with stray chickens running about and flies hovering above vended fish!

The display went on for exactly twenty-four hours (according the Cirl) although I missed some of it when I went to bed. Cirl, who insisted on staying up all night, allowed the magelets to take a break every hour for five minutes each. However, only one magelet could rest at a single time so the display continued non-stop.

The next morning, the magelets finally stopped their display with a lavish sand-made water fountain and they spent the rest of the day meditating after their meals. Lance and I passed the boring day by mostly sleeping and cooking.

On the fourth morning of our desert days, the camp was packed quickly and the horses saddled soon after breakfast. We left though another magically-created arch some distance from the one we came through before. On the other end was a forest completely unlike the royal forest. The trees were tall and ever-green and the birds and bees sand and swarmed unrestrained through the canopies. Pines gathered to our left while to the right stood the tallest oaks. A river ran into the cliffs-a rare occurrence in the strangest of lands.

“Here in the Freefire Wood you’ll attempt tour second and third tasks,” there was a dramatic pause from Cirl as the magelets began murmuring between themselves. Apparently, they were shocked as this was the first time two tasks were done simultaneously. With potential war beckoning, Numaine had decided to take such a drastic approach not only to save time, but also to push the magelets to their fullest potential.

“Quiet.”

Cirl dismounted and walked amongst the panicked teens.

“Do not fear. The tasks, like all others before them, are not impossible.”

He gestured at the tress surrounding the trainees, “Pine, Oak, beach, hardwood-any possible type of tree lives evergreen in this forest. Any type except Apple. Your earth task is to grow an apple from any of the trees here and bring it to me…”

“…your fire task is simpler-to live without fire until such time has passed that your earth task is complete. Neither provisions nor your horses will you take with you. You are to go empty-handed. I will camp at the junction of the rivers [INSERT NAME] and [INSERT NAME]. The other masters will be patrolling Freefire. Should you encounter any difficulties, send fire into open air and they will ride to you.

Now, unmount and go.”

After a lot of scrambling, the magelets were gone. For once, the company seemed calmer as we leisurely rode towards the river junction with the magelets’ horses in tow. The masters accompanied us on either side-they would only leave for their duties after the camp was set.

Our camp was much more comfortable than the last. First, the masters crossed the river junction into a part of the wood filled with rubber trees. There they manipulated the trees into making a rough pen big enough for all the horses. Cirl, Lance and I camped on the opposite bank where lots of willow trees eagerly made us a nice shed-like shelter.

We unpacked our gear and proceeded to collect wood-Cirl: not from the trees!- to make a small fire. We then had a lunch of ham sandwiches and porridge wish honey and drank from the sweet waters of the Freefire rivers.

As we chatted about the wonders of the forest, one trainee returned with a petite but rosy apple no bigger than a ping pong ball. Smiling nervously, he handed the fruit to Cirl and stepped back, twisting his hands in an agitated manner.

Cirl inspected the apple for about, oh, thirty seconds? The, in one swift, feline move, he threw the apple up, spiraled to his feet, unsheathe his sword and pierced the apple just above the licking flames of our campfire. There, he held it until it looked a nice, crispy, tarnished red. He then handed the apple to the trainee who, looking more anxious than before, took the apple and bit into it. At this point I realized I was wincing but nothing happened. After he finished the apple, Cirl motioned for him to throw the core into the river junction then cross to the rubbery side of the river where he would wait with the horses until the last trainee arrived.

Wondering about Cirl’s behavior, I sat in the hut pondering about it until I fell asleep. There is something oppressive about this forest. It is beautiful and magical and perfect (except for the lack of apple trees) but yet it seems sort of shy and withdrawn despite being full of life.

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