Chapter 489: The Eagle Flies Alone
The Eagle Flies Alone
Martel felt confused briefly when he woke up until the familiar surroundings of his room at the Lyceum asserted themselves. Minimal sleep and the change of bed from the warehouse to his school had thrown him off until he remembered why he was back. He had classes today in fire magic, which he would attend per his agreement with Mistress Juliana.
After eating breakfast at an empty table, savouring the hot porridge, Martel went to the western courtyard for his lesson. The statue of Atreus greeted him, wet from last night's rain. The banners hung from the windows, ready to become targets; the other students stood around as well, keeping their distance to him as usual.
Moira appeared. "When you feel done wasting time, go ahead with the lesson."
Martel looked at the other students. All of them had chosen to use a ranged spell to directly attack the target, rather than establish a connection with the fabric and igniting it directly.
Martel understood why; it seemed more likely to succeed. If his need to burn a piece of cloth flapping in the wind had been urgent, he might have chosen the same. But this was a lesson, meant to help them grow their magical prowess. Hitting his target with a spell might improve Martel's aim, but not his talent with magic. It seemed to him that extending the range with which he could use magic seemed more beneficial. For that reason, while the other acolytes unleashed bolts and blasts of fire, Martel simply let his magical senses extend forward as far as it could.
He felt nothing, other than the flashes of heat from his fellow students' spells streaking through the air. The distance was too great. But it could be increased, he figured. Martel had improved his spellpower, enchantment, and other aspects of his magic simply by practising; the same could hold true here. He would ask Moira for guidance if he thought it helped, but he had no desire to interact with her; perhaps he might seek out Master Alistair if he wanted advice.
For this lesson, he would let his own thoughts and instinct guide him. But he needed a way to measure whether he improved his magical reach. Looking around, Martel saw a twig on the ground about twenty paces away. Although wet from rain, it was still a material that would happily burn if persuaded. Reaching out with his magic, Martel provided the needed persuasion, and the wood ignited.
"Someone's far of the mark," Harriet snickered before resuming her own spellcasting.
Ignoring her, Martel raised the wind to push the twig further away from himself before he once more reached out with his magic to tangle with his target, testing his abilities at this new distance.
***
Martel looked up to see Eleanor take a seat opposite him at his dinner table. She gave a quick smile. "It has been a while since I last saw you around the castle."
He nodded a little, swallowing his food before replying. "I'm spending most days down by the docks, making potions. I sleep there as well to avoid wasting time going back and forth. I'm only back on the two days when I have fire lessons."
"I had heard something to that effect," she related, "that you had left to do alchemy with Mistress Rana. I just found it hard to believe that you would be excused from all classes, but I see now the truth was somewhere in between."
"I'm surprised anybody noticed I'm gone. Other than you."
"Oh, everyone's eyes are on the copper lanes and those in near proximity." She hesitated. "You may have noticed that people are keeping their distance to you. Words like 'pestilence' scare people to a nearly irrational degree. Hence all the talking about you, I guess. People are nervous, even if you are not going inside the actual district."
"Honestly, I hadn't realised. I usually eat alone, which suits me fine. Not that I mind my present company." He looked up at her with a smile.
Strangely, Eleanor seemed apprehensive. "Yes. I am sorry that I join you so rarely. I spend my days with the other mageknights, one class to the next, so we usually eat together as well."
"I know, don't worry," he impressed on her. "I'm just glad to have you as my friend. You're not required to do anything."
"Maybe I just feel guilty because you are volunteering your services to help the city while I and others do nothing. At the very least, you should be thanked for your efforts rather than shunned."
"I guess that would be nice, but it's not something on my mind." Martel gave a shrug as he finished his meal. "It doesn't really matter what others think. I'm doing it regardless."
"So you are. Morcaster is fortunate to have people like you."
"And some who do far more than me. At least I'm not in any danger of getting sick, unlike those who've gone inside to the copper lanes. Me, I just work in a warehouse."
"Still, most of us do nothing." Eleanor gave him a mirthless smile. "Suddenly, all my spells and magic seem far less impressive."
"That's the hardest thing about learning magic, isn't it," Martel considered. "It's not just about all the things you can now do. It's also about all the things you'll never be able to do." He rose from his seat. "I'm going to get some sleep before my next class. Not a lot of it available down by the docks," he jested. "I'll see you later."
She looked up at him, her expression remaining much the same. "Of course. Take care."
***
Getting three hours' sleep between classes felt like a luxury; about half of what he usually got at night lately. For his afternoon lesson, he resumed his attempts at improving his ranged magic, still with little success. Afterwards, he waited until supper was served, ate his fill, and then returned to the harbour, where he had time to brew two potions before going to bed.
The sourc𝗲 of this content is free(w)ebnov(𝒆)l