9. Benjin #2
Haldric tightened his jaw. After a tense moment, he expelled a breath.
In that instant, his tired face appeared almost human.
Benjin found himself admiring the sharp planes of his cheekbones and the firm contours of his well-defined jawline.
Of course, then the prince had to go and ruin it by speaking.
“Look, I realize we got off on the wrong foot and things haven’t exactly improved since. But despite what you might think, I bear you no ill will. I simply wish to get through this tedious exercise so that I can attend to more important duties.”
More important duties. As if Benjin needed more evidence that Haldric viewed Benjin as beneath him.
“Whatever. Get on with it, then.”
Haldric’s full lips twisted into a frown. “Very well.”
He strode over to the far wall and waved a hand at it in a complex gesture. Azure runeflame flowed from his fingers, conjuring a black slate. More flicks of his fingers etched silver words atop it.
“In the early days of Allaria, the first humans living in the Mortal Realm drew lifeflame from the natural world around them and soulflame from within their own bodies and minds. Then, came the discovery of the Shroud adjacent to our reality. Aspiring mages learned to tap into its power, harnessing its runeflame to alter the fundamental order of the world.”
Annoyance flared in Benjin. “I’ve heard all this before—most everyone has. Then, greedy mages pushed too far and accidentally opened a rift in the Shroud to the Void.”
“Indeed. Thus, did they discover voidflame, a twisted echo of runeflame’s order.
Their folly broke the world asunder and left the uninhabitable Netherwaste as a testament to their hubris.
Many were tempted by the power promised by voidflame.
” He fixed Benjin with a hard look. “Don’t be one of them. ”
Benjin scowled. “I’m perfectly in control of myself. If anyone here is at risk of succumbing to hubris, it’s you.”
Ignoring his jab, Haldric nodded. “Good. Make sure it stays that way. Control is important for wielding any magic, but especially for runeflame. Even tiny errors can dramatically alter how a spell behaves.”
Turning back to the board, Haldric added the last two sources of magic to it: dawnflame and duskflame.
“When the Void first invaded the Mortal Realm, the strongest wielders of lifeflame, soulflame, and runeflame came together to fight it. Thus, did they fuse their magic and create the Immortal Realm on the edge of the Shroud to protect us. There, souls pledged to the Dawn and Dusk Councils fight an eternal war against the aberrations from the Void that seek to unravel existence.”
“The Celestials and Infernals,” Benjin said. “Good and evil.”
Haldric rolled his eyes, lowering his hand.
“That’s just superstition. Duskflame often receives a negative connotation because of its association with Nalax and less savory magic like necromancy.
But it is merely a tool, no different from any other.
Both dawnflame and duskflame accomplish the same goal—protecting us from the Void. ”
Benjin raised an eyebrow. “By that logic, isn’t voidflame just another tool?”
Haldric adamantly shook his head. “Voidflame is far, far too unstable. Only the insane or foolhardy would ever dare use it.”
Benjin opened his mouth to retort—not so much because he disagreed but because he enjoyed pushing Haldric’s buttons—but the prince cut him off.
“All of that is mere background. What matters to us is the Shroud and the runeflame which comes from it.”
The board listing the six sources of magic flickered out of existence.
Haldric strode back toward Benjin, holding up a hand ablaze with blue fire.
“Runeflame requires strict teaching and dedication if you want to be a true mage and not some back-alley sorcerer peddling cheap tricks. It’s all about learning to recognize and produce patterns. ”
Performing a complex gesture, Haldric conjured a small, floating orb of light. Benjin recognized the basics of the spell—he’d attempted a similar cantrip during his exam with Dexil. Haldric’s, however, blazed far brighter.
The prince sent the orb floating toward Benjin. Benjin stretched out a hand for it. Right as his fingertips grazed it, the orb puffed out of existence. His lips quirking slightly, Haldric made another hand motion that levitated a book off a nearby table and plopped it into Benjin’s lap.
Benjin couldn’t help but begrudgingly admire the speed and deftness of the prince’s technique. Even such simple magic required precision and skill to pull off so adroitly.
“There are seven fundamental disciplines of arcane magic,” Haldric said. A small rock appeared in his palm. “Conjuration—creating or summoning an object or creature.”
The rock lifted from his palm, floating in midair much like the orb of light or the levitating book. “Evocation—manipulating raw force.”
A shimmering sheen of magic briefly enveloped the rock. It faded to reveal a glass globe had taken its place. “Alteration—transforming one thing into another.”
Hefting the glass orb, Haldric suddenly hurled it at Benjin. Benjin shouted in alarm, flailing in his chair to shift out of the way. A barrier of force appeared in front of Benjin just in time to deflect the projectile. It ricocheted off the shield and shattered against the floor.
“What in the name of the Goddess?” Benjin hissed, on edge for another attack. His own runeflame crackled at the ready.
Again, the corner of Haldric’s mouth ticked up in the barest hint of a grin. “Protection—warding against physical or magical harm.”
He appeared unfazed by Benjin glowering at him.
A sudden wave of happiness washed over Benjin.
Warmth flooded him, and he fixed Haldric with a broad grin.
How had it taken him this long to notice how beautifully the prince’s emerald eyes sparkled?
He yearned to stroke his fingers through Haldric’s raven black hair.
The strange euphoria vanished as quickly as it had come, leaving Benjin blinking in confusion. His cheeks heated when he realized his previous vein of thought.
“Compulsion,” Haldric explained, appearing amused by Benjin’s discomfort. “Making someone think, do, or feel something.”
Sorry, a voice whispered in Benjin’s mind.
He jerked his head around, searching for the voice’s source before narrowing his gaze on Haldric.
Divination, the voice said. Though Haldric’s lips didn’t move, the intent concentration on his face and the runeflame flickering over his fingers made Benjin certain the voice came from him.
Understanding, predicting, or communicating something.
Turning away from Benjin, Haldric gestured at the pieces of the shattered orb scattered across the floor. In a shuddering wave of glass, they flowed back together until the glass orb sat there, whole and unbroken.
“Restoration.” Haldric leaned down to pick up the orb. “Returning an object or creature to its natural state by healing or mending it.”