Blackwater Canyon, Chapter 7
Friends in High Places
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Previously: Myriam ends her relationship with her fiancé and tells her parents she will be attending Darrington Magus Academy.
“In accordance with the divine decree of Emperor Tiberius II, all mages must master the four arts: Wand Craft, to harness intention; Chalice Craft, an initiation into receptivity; Sword Craft, of intellect and defense; and Talisman Craft, to crystallize the enlightened mental state of the mage into the physical world.”
Written upon a displayed scroll the halls of Darrington Magus Academy.
/ / /
James
The semesters turned to summers, and summers into transitory years, which morphed upon themselves as ever shifting desert dune fields. In the blink of an eye, James began his third year at Darrington Magus Academy.
James had forged immigration documents and paid the hefty toll to enter Castle Rock Province allowing his family to settle in a quaint town outside of Solvana, the walled capital city of the Mercovian Empire. With a steady, passive income stream of ever booming agave production, his mother pursued her dream of operating a menudo restaurant, which Alexandra helped run, of which his father enjoyed retirement from ranching life and became the book keeper.
Outside the walls of Solvana, the city snaked outward into suburbs that offered abundance in both sustenance, population, and commerce, a vast difference from the barren dunes.
The surplus of trees were suffocating and the waters of oversaturated streams and decorative fountains felt a luxury, not to mention the constant thickness of moisture in the air. Being able to dip his hands into cool fountain waters felt expensive. It became James’ personal theory that the reason city folk tossed coins into the fountains was to contribute to their water usage.
Akyl found his theories on city things amusing and discouraged James on occasion, nudging reminders that in the city, copper coins were simply talismans for wishes, not for any serious forms of payment.
When he first arrived to Solvana, James tossed a copper coin that he found wedged in the cobblestone roads and wished for wind blown silt to clog his nose, but amidst his studies at Darrington those thoughts quickly faded.
On occasion, Alexandra and his mother communicated by letter mail, inquiring about his studies and progress, detailing their accomplishments with the restaurant, which apparently had attracted loyal customers ‘intrigued by the soup’s unique savory flavor’. They offered to plan a visit beyond the walls, but James refused, ‘too busy with coursework’ became the excuse.
It was not a lie—Darrington kept him plenty busy.
Darrington Magus Academy had very selective course work, in which all mages were to master a particular tool craft each year in attendance, the intention of their tool crafts were often compatible with the mages magical affinity. From the start of first year to completion of the fourth and final year, the successful tool craft mastery rate was typically around twenty-seven percent, on an average year. Following the senior oral examination, the graduating rate was even less so.
Above all, Darrington was the type of academy that held prestige with the name, the type of school that attracted children of officials, and the chances of catching the eye of the Empire’s Ministry was high, given the mage reached graduation. It was the perfect place to build connections.
In James’ first year Latin lecture, struggling to pronounce spells correctly, he met Sterling Wendolyn, whose father was an active member in the Mercovian Ministry of Magic and Sainthood. They became quick friends and academic rivals. What should have been considered controversial subject matter, borderline heretical within the walls of the Academy, came to the table naturally in conversation between them.
As James studies progressed, he found issue in the way the Academy taught students to channel their energy through the use of enchanted items rather than to rely on himself as a conduit of his own magic.
Akyl’s insight into those musings were as such: maintaining a distinction between soul and one’s magic was deliberately crafted that way by the Ministry. Magic, inherently, existed everywhere; the forest looked upon one, just as one would look upon the forest. By drawing a division between soul and magic, even if magic was generated from the soul itself and was manifested by an individual’s will power, made people attach reason to magic.
“Magic Law does not operate on Reason. They think to themselves that magic must behave in such a way because of the symbols that are tied to crafted objects,” Akyl had attempted to explain one evening. “But the truth is more aligned with where that magic comes from in the first place.” To which he did not expand.
James assumed Akyl meant, of course, that magic was generated from the soul. But his mind always drifted to that first conversation, that window into Saintly knowledge in the cave, in which Akyl hinted to magic arriving on Earth from Saints themselves. James imagined the distinction must be drawn to maintain a degree of control over the populous, but those heretical thoughts were never explored aloud.
This was why Akyl was impressed with James to such a degree on their first meeting. Under self study alone, in the poor desert village in Noband Province, with restricted access to magic refining resources, James gained proficient control of his will when it came to harnessing static—which he learned was more correctly termed the ability to ‘harness electrostatic discharge from the atmosphere’.
Sterling admitted, as the son of a Ministry member, who grew up with ‘such controversial table talk and the likes’, that his opinions did not fall far from what James described—that magic and the soul were inseparable forces.
Sterling was a spirit medium, he could hold direct communications with forces of nature and had not found any magically imbued object to enhance his endeavors, and, as he reminded James, he grew up with the resources and connections to test these hypotheses.
/ / /
Now, sat across from Sterling at a metalwork classroom table after hours, James would sketch a line of his long sword design, then erase it. He could not decide the direction he wanted to take his ceremonial sword. He had narrowed it down to a single handed, double-edged blade, but beyond that, all creative thoughts evaded him.
Akyl kept his thoughts to himself on the matter of blade choice. To Akyl, his final decision seldom mattered, as it was unlikely the blade would ever be used on a battle field.
Meanwhile, Sterling refined the measurements on his colored dagger sketch, a double edged obsidian blade fitted to a bronze hilt. In a separate notebook, he sketched symbols onto a line sketch of the dagger with careful precision.
Maybe I should just scrap this and make a dagger instead, James thought-spoke to Akyl.
There is no use in turning back on your decision, Akyl replied.
James huffed a laugh beneath his breath. You mocking me now?
“What?” Sterling asked while intently looking over his sketch.
James peaked up from his drawing. “Nothin’, just thinking about a rumor I overheard in class today.”
“What’s that?”
“Apparently when Professor Kurrick found out he didn’t make tenure he started showing up to class drunk,” James said. “Brought on brief nostalgia. I had a grade school teacher who would do that in my village, but he never got fired for it.”
“Oh, it’s worse than that, he severed a part of his pinky while teaching students to sharpen their swords,” Sterling said without looking up from his sketch.
“Poor bastard,” James’s snicker turned into a grunt as his freshly sharpened pencil caught in a groove on the table and snapped the point.
“But my father assured me that Professor Bradley is a much better choice for the job, so we are in good hands.” Sterling set down his pencil, watching James resharpen his own. “Speaking of, when I met with my father this past weekend he mentioned some trouble out east.”
“Oh yeah?” James peaked up, catching Sterling look over his shoulder.
“He wouldn’t tell me details, so I suspect it has something to do with a rogue spirit,” Sterling scratched his draft paper. “He tends to do that when he does not want to influence my intuition on a case. I will be joining him on this assignment, so I will be absent at the end of this week. Mind grabbing me a spare copy of any homework?”
Sterling was very much aware of James’ attachment, of which he was sure that ‘it came from the desert’. It was only spoken aloud between them once, and remained unspoken about since. As far as James was aware, Akyl’s true identity remained private.
“Of course,” James examined his fresh pencil carving. “Do you even have to ask at this point?”
“All in formality, my friend.” Sterling folded up his draft and tucked it neatly into his satchel. “Meet for dinner when I am back?”
James and Sterling exchanged a farewell. Sterling departed, leaving James to his own frustrations.
You have never resorted to compulsory measures with Sterling, why is that? Akyl manifested as a hollow shadow in the seat Sterling no longer occupied.
Because I think he can be trusted, James replied, honestly. Besides, I think Sterling would pick up on something strange if I even tried.
You could have persuaded him to bring you along on his father’s mission, Akyl said, crossing his arms. The closer you get to the Ministry—
On that point, would that not work best if I persuaded his father directly? James brushed eraser tailings away from his n’th failed attempt at a sword sketch.
Maybe you should start by persuading Sterling to help you with your sword design, Akyl said flatly. He seems fluent in ancient verse, it would save you a lot of time in your final year.
James tapped his pencil on the table. You’re suggesting that “he is crafting the dagger as a talisman itself?” He finished aloud.
Akyl shrugged. I doubt he would give you an answer so freely without persuasion.
James reviewed his sketch. There was no use continuing on with this failed design. He would have to start fresh in the morning.
Maybe Akyl was right. Sterling, who was the top rank of their class, had access to the Ministerial Archives through his father. There was no telling the depths of Sterling’s knowledge, or what his father would admit to him in privacy. He could—no, should—utilize his resources.
But James was going to accomplish their goal of obtaining a position in the Ministry his own way. He had been clear with Akyl the entirety of his journey thus far.
He had persuaded the Castle Rock guard to allow his family passage into the province over conjured documents, he had persuaded the Darrington Magus Academy admission board to allow him to take the late comers examination when his family first arrived in Solvana—of which he had passed on his own volition, thanks to a simple persuasion to obtain study materials off a current student while he was loitering outside the Academy grounds.
If it came to it, and Sterling resisted divulging secrets, then perhaps a bit of persuasion would do the trick, but he had not even attempted to ask such details from his friend, as Sterling gave subtle details freely. It was not worth risking the relationship he had built with Sterling, not when he was a doorway into the Ministry.
/ / /
James tossed his pencil sack into his satchel and roughly folded his sketches intent on heading back to his apartment. As he rounded the corner out of the classroom, he stopped in his tracks.
Just down the hallway, leaned against the wall, was a head of springy curls.
He walked towards them quickly. “Mina?”
“Sorry, were you speaking to me?” The girl turned, revealing kind green eyes. It was not Mina.
“Forgive me.” James took a step back, quickly diverting his eyes, looking for an escape down the hallway. “You just remind me of a… friend from back home.”
The girl waved farewell to her group of friends, then extended her spare hand to him in greeting. “The name is Myriam. Where is back home, third year?” She mentioned to his poorly folded sword sketches.
“South,” James peeked at the spines of books she held to her chest. Parson’s Guide to Medicinal Herbs in Northwestern Mercovia, Wands for Craftsmen, Theosophical Insights Volume Thirteen… “What is a first year healer doing in the metal work building?”
“South? How ominous,” Myriam looked behind him, then sized him up. “Funny you should mention old friends. I am here to meet up with one of mine.”
“Ah,” James ruffled his sketches. “Is your friend also in the middle of the dreaded third year sword craft?”
“No, actually he is a natural refiner,” she smiled. “Comes from a lineage of metallurgists.”
“How goes your wand drafting?” James peeked behind her down the empty hall. It was awfully quiet. Was it just the two of them?
Myriam set her books on the floor at her feet and retrieved a leather bound notebook from her pack. “I have the general shape I am going for, but I am having trouble deciding on the material I want to use.” She traced her fingers over her sketches and neatly written notes. “How did you go about deciding?”
James’ instinct was to lie. To tell her that he had crafted his wand from the hardwood of ash and move on. It was not a total lie, per say, it had been the wood he considered in his first drafting of his wand, but in the silence of the dimly lit hallway, it was almost as if untruths would illuminate themselves as sparks of static on drifting sand.
“Poplar was the wood I settled on. A durable hardwood, able to survive drought and flood alike.” He wanted to say more, but stopped his explanations there. “It really depends on how you want to go about directing your magic. You are a healer, right?” He mentioned to her books. “Consider the conifers. Pines and firs are useful for sorcerers interested in longevity.”
Myriam frivolously took notes with a seemingly expensive stone inlay pen. Even standing, with curls dipping in front of her eyes, holding her notebook in the cradle of one arm, her cursive was delicate and even.
“I didn’t even consider looking into the symbology behind the trees. Do you mind explaining why you chose poplar?”
“Durability.” James shrugged. Poplar was conductive, which channeled his affinity for electrical manipulation with ease. The hardwood of poplar was less likely to sustain damage over time from repeated use. And maybe, just maybe, its resistance to drought held a bit of sentimental value.
Here I was thinking you were about to get sappy, Akyl teased.
Myraim tucked curls behind her ear, flashing eyes the color of imperial jade. “That’s it?”
James diverted his eyes. “I’m a simple creature, I suppose.”
“I see how it is,” Myriam said on a stoop to get her books. “You will only continue to divulge your secrets after being fed. Men are all the same.”
“Not necessarily—”
Myriam raised on her toes to peek over his shoulder and waved. “Asher, over here! Meet… sorry, I don’t think I caught your name.”
James ruffled his hair on a turn and awkwardly greeted her friend with the shake of hands. Asher was well manicured, his hair draped delicately over complimentary soft features. After being scrunched over the drafting table like a shrimp for several hours, yielding only disappointment, James internally recoiled with how disheveled he likely appeared.
“James Koen. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
Myriam smiled up at him. “James here is working on his third year sword design. Asher knows all about metals for this and that. Maybe the two of you would get along.”
“I suppose I could offer some assistance,” Asher replied with obvious discomfort.
“Don’t sound so dull, Asher,” Myriam playfully backhanded his shoulder. “We both need to make some friends. Have either of you eaten dinner?”
“What about—?” Asher protested.
“I don’t want to impose.” James started down the hall. “Sorry about earlier, have a nice evening. Good luck on your wand design.”
Image: Satellite view of White Sands Missile Range, New Mexico
Blackwater Canyon Table of Contents
I see you are a chemist. I teach high school Chemistry. Nice chapter, thanks.