Cold, piercing rain fell from the sky.
Thoma stood waiting at the stables of Codrean, where his older brother was to present him with a gift for his eighteenth birthday. Wading through the newly-muddled and horse-shit caked path towards him was Bernar, the boy’s older brother of five years, with his leather boots heavily drenched from the downpour. A reasonably good-looking man, with a strong jaw and shoulders, tar-black hair, and bright yellow eyes, Bernar was clad in a leather training jerkin, boots, and a coat that deflected the rain straight down to the ground.
The younger brother, ecstatic with the gift, clumsily attempted to mount the stallion. Seeing as he was too short to get his foot in the stirrup, his brother dragged a nearby shodding stool his way. He crawled up onto the horse's back with difficulty, as the horse’s size was much larger than the one he was previously used to, and struggled to get his right foot to the other side.
Bernar let out more of a maniacal cackle than a regular laugh while watching. Infinite mocking was his prerogative as the older brother. “I should have thought this might happen before I spent three-months’ salary on your gift. You’re a fine sword-caster, but if mother had seen you struggle like this, there is no way she would have let you try to become a horse-caster,” he said, between laughs. Thoma grimaced, and his green eyes squinted. “It's my first time trying to mount a horse this large, you lout. My old horse was much shorter than this one, and that’s not even mentioning you put the stirrups a little too high,” he replied.
Bernar shook his head. “That's because our rotund father had used this saddle for decades until it was passed down to me. I’m not sure if you remember much about him, but he used this saddle often, and ended up tearing through the leather straps that were used to buckle it in the right spot,” he replied. “After having kept it in storage for so long, I had forgotten about the tear. I’ve had to compromise with them being a little higher until I can get them repaired properly. The horse alone drained a lot of my savings,” he continued.
Thoma recognized that his brother did, in fact, spend a lot on his present. “I’m not saying that I’m ungrateful, brother,” he began. “I do appreciate the gift a lot. I’m just trying to figure out how to get my arse settled into it,” he continued. Bernar shrugged, continuing to watch his brother struggle a little longer before finally getting into the saddle.
Thoma finally settled in, and readjusted the stirrups as close as he could to his liking. “There, that’s much better,” he stated proudly. “Is it comfortable at least?” Bernar asked. “Father has definitely broken this saddle in, heavy bastard that he is,” his younger brother said. “Good. I hope you’re ready for your horse-caster certification. If worse goes to shit, at least you'll have a horse that could belong to a god,” he said with a grin.
A spell was the simplest form of magic used by the Synners - a group of warriors who gained improved mana-based abilities through the consumption of a plant known as Gwynnleaf. They were called ‘synners' due to the Church of Mideia branding them such, as they opposed the natural order between gods and men.
“And what if I can do all of that at once, do you think the Master will finally train me to become an all-caster?”, Thoma asked. “I can't say for sure, but if he decides to accept you for all-caster training, I would suggest you dig deep and dedicate yourself to succeed,” his brother replied. “All-casters are rare enough as it is, and we synners are likely to become a dying breed. Some have even become outcasts of society for having done some ill deed that would hinder the betterment of humanity. However, we must always do our best to avoid following in their footsteps, because when all is said and done, we were created for ridding the world of evil,” he continued.
Thoma knew what his brother meant from his history lessons over the years. Tales of synners turning their backs and betraying their own kinsmen over conflicting ideals or other such reasons had reached the far corners of the Continent - deeming them outcasts and traitors to their own kind.
“In any case, let’s begin,” Bernar said with a wave of his hand. Thoma nodded and stuck his heels into the horse's side. Hoof-fall like rolling thunder whipped up a splash of mud, and his single braid of long, brown hair flowed in the wind. He held onto the reins as tight as he could, focusing on breathing in rhythm with the horse's gallop, relaxing his mind to focus on the challenge ahead. Casting from a solid stance is relatively simple, but this is a whole new devil I'll have to manage, he thought.
He was closing the distance between himself and the target quickly, and knew he had to begin gathering mana. The enchanted ring - which all synners wore - served as a magical ward, which helped stave off, but not entirely block the heat produced by the condensed mana just before casting a spell. He focused on the one he had to produce, and reviewed the training he had had since he was only five years old.
First decide, transfer, then conduct, and finally, release! Never mix the order up or the spell won't work, the Master’s words echoed in his head.
He decided to try to impress his brother with a bolt of lightning that could be cast from one’s fingertips in any direction desired. The target was well within striking range for the spell’s effect, and he took a deep breath before the channeling process. It required the one who wished to use a spell to draw mana from the Ethereal. The invisible realm surrounded all things – both living and inanimate – which was the origin of the mana itself. He began to focus as intensely as he could manage, while still maintaining his posture in the saddle.
He forcefully closed his eyes for an instant, using all of his willpower to divide his attention, and send his consciousness into the other realm. His eyes reopened, as the dilating pupil covered the olive green irises and the white of his eyes as his consciousness went from the Between into the immaterial world.
A realm of pure and plentiful power where bright, colorful shafts of light circled a bright sphere of pure power in the sky, while stars of all sizes wheeled overhead and meshed together with the shafts. Anytime there was a merging merging of a star with a streak of mana, which was a magnificent sight in and of itself, it released a blue and orange flare.
Thoma looked about him and observed the ongoings above him as he did every time he wished to draw from the realm. He had no need to rush, as time was not something the realm took into consideration - the only one to have such a characteristic. It was filled with life forms that roamed the vast forest of magnificent trees. The shimmering lake that was a stone’s throw away shimmered and reflected the light produced from the sphere above it. The river that flowed from it constantly changed its shape and color, according to the merging stars with the shafts of power. He outstretched his right hand towards the sphere, and opened his fingers as wide as he could. The mana began to flow in tendrils towards his hand, warming the air around it wherever it went.
They wrapped around his fingers, and the connection began harnessing the shafts of light and transforming them into a nebula of raw mana that encased his body like a gaseous cocoon, which began to show itself in the Between as it enveloped him.
With his will, he absorbed the mana into his body and mind quickly, where it could be shaped and molded into the spells he'd already learned. He condensed what he had gathered to his hands, and proceeded to cast.
The mana cloud surrounding his body suddenly condensed, and moved with the fluidity of a river towards his right hand, warming the little armor he was wearing and making the hairs on his arm stand on end as it went. The warmth gathered into an indigo opaque sphere that glowed in the palm of his hand. The heat it generated grew rapidly, and was beginning to seep through the small ward from the ring on his hand. Time to cast. Otherwise my ward will fail and my hand will melt from the heat, he thought.
He whirled his arm the same way he had practiced so often in the late hours of the night - a clockwise circle with his hand, and a pull-push motion with his arm. He made quick work of it, and released his spell, its heat going with it. It all happened in a fraction of a second, and the bolt of indigo lightning shot out from the fingertips of his glove. The bolt traveled through the air, and any falling drop from the sky was vaporized as it went. It was so hot, and the air around it so cold, that the crack from the rapid compression and decompression of the air was so great, the resulting boom was as though the hammer of the thunder god had struck a mountain.
It quickly met its target, leaving it in little more than shards and splinters with an explosive reaction. Charred bits flew everywhere – a few of them passing him by a little too closely for comfort. The unfortunate chicken who pecked at the ground behind the target, was, unsurprisingly, turned into little more than a pink, feathery mist.
Bernar's jaw dropped as he looked on in astonishment. “Haha! You've done it, you lanky, little bastard! Well done!” he shouted in excitement. His younger brother looked over his shoulder as he turned the horse. “Did you have some kind of wager with someone on whether I would've royally fucked that up?” Thoma shouted back. “On the contrary, I was actually hoping you would be able to do it,” Bernar replied. Thoma rode up to his brother's side and dismounted with more grace than he had had when he tried to mount the large horse. Bernar embraced his little brother, and patted him firmly on the back. “Finest use of the Kyr spell I've seen in awhile,” he said. “Well executed, but dangerous,” he warned. “Horses get spooked easily, and most horse-casters recommend using 'quieter' spells while riding. Luckily, this one’s well-trained and kept his composure,” he continued.
“So I've heard,” Thoma muttered under his breath. “Although I'm sure that the Master will be surprised once he hears what I've accomplished,” he said. "I don’t doubt it, little brother," Bernar said. “I know for a fact I wasn’t pulling these kinds of stunts at your age. Hell, he might train you to be the best all-caster of all of us. After all, he does sense that you have much more power than most of the other boys here.”
“I pray that he does. I would do my best to be the best he’s ever seen,” Thoma said with ironically little self-confidence. His brother smiled and put a gloved hand on his younger brother's shoulder. “I'm sure you will be, and I'll help you in that endeavor wherever I can,” he said warmly. “Does that mean you’ll let me kick your arse in sword training?” Thoma asked. Bernar laughed heartily. “You're more than welcome to try, but I guarantee you won't land a blow if you don't pack on some muscle. Your arrogance far outweighs your flagpole build as it is,” he said. “I might not have your strength, but I'm at least twice as fast as you,” Thoma replied.
“Sure, sure,” Bernar said sarcastically. “But what is speed when your legs are sore, arms are tired, breathing heavy and all that after only 10 minutes of having it out with one of those damned-ugly creatures outside?” Bernar asked. “No, little brother. You'll need both to survive out there. Being good with mana manipulation will only get you so far,” Bernar said with a seriousness his younger sibling had never seen in him. Thoma began to think about the reality of the world outside the fortress’ walls he was yet to explore.
“But, enough about that for now. We should head back to the dorms and celebrate your accomplishment today,” Bernar said, flicking the back of his hand onto his distracted younger brother’s chest. “It's fucking cold as a witch's tit out here, and pissing more than the sea goddess herself can muster. We still have to change our clothes for supper,” he continued. “I guess you’re right,” Thoma agreed reluctantly, for he loved the rain and cold.
“I’m almost always right!” Bernar exclaimed. “Not always…” Thoma said, grinning slyly. “If you’re going to mention that incident with the Dawn Nymph…” Bernar began. “I didn’t say anything!” Thoma jested. The pair chuckled lightly and continued on their way. “I suppose we could try another horse-casting, or perhaps spar with each other tomorrow?” he asked his older brother. Bernar shrugged and displayed a one-sided smile “I suppose we could do some sparring tomorrow, but we'll have to deal with whatever the Master has planned first. I hear he wants to give us his version of a 'surprise test' tomorrow,” he replied.
A surprise test, huh? Thoma thought.
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