Primal Wizardry - A Magic School Progression Fantasy

The last hundred years have given rise to the discovery of Illusian races with Primal abilities, none—as far as this researcher knows of—of Midlian origin. The most famous among them are the Bond primals of the Iron Vein Tribe. As a key figure in the Last Dragon War, Bearskin lead his people out of isolation to aid in the war against the dragons’ horde.

Lidian’s Manual to Magical Fauna, 283rd ed

—

Kole’s unintended sleep was interrupted by a subtle woosh and he opened his eyes to see a young man sprawled on the floor groaning.

“Ow,” the man said as he rose unsteadily to his feet.

He was dressed in light leather armor and and was covered in dirt and blood in various stages of dryness.

Goblin blood by the odor that was newly familiar to Kole.

Kole panicked, but then quickly realized this man was not a part of the students pursuing him.

Mustering his courage, Kole asked “Who are you?”

“Who am I? Who are you? Where am I?” the man answered, now on his feet and looking around the hideout.

His eyes landed on the contents of Kole’s bag which had spilled out on the floor and his demeanor changed. His posture tightened, and he brought his hands up to his waist as if ready to grab something… or cast a spell.

“And where did you get that?” he demanded, pointing to the journal.

Kole grabbed the journal and clutched it possessively. He wasn’t particularly fond of the ratty thing, but he’d already had to recreate his notes in the thing once, and he was loathe to do it again—though, it hadn’t been as difficult as he’d expected to fill the with notes on his lectures thus far from memory.

The man reached his right hand out, palm raised expectantly before looking at his palm in confusion. His eyes briefly lost focus, and then he looked from Kole to the journal and his brow rose in surprise.

“Oh,” he said, mournfully before he collapsed to the ground unconscious.

Worried that it was a trick, Kole turned invisible before approaching. Approach is maybe too strong of a word in the small confines of the corner he was hiding in.

When the stranger didn’t move, Kole kicked him and was rewarded with a painful groan.

“What in Fauell was that for?” the man asked.

“Why are you in my room. Who are you?” Kole demanded again, no longer scared.

The man opened his eyes and looked directly at Kole’s own despite the invisibility.

"I wouldn't call this a room," the man observed

"I wouldn't say you're in a position to be judgmental," Kole retorted, no longer afraid of this interloper.

“Can you get me some water?” he asked.

“No. Who are you? How did you get here?”

“Fair enough,” he laughed and said seemingly to himself. “I suppose I should trust it.”

He continued, looking at Kole once more, “You can call me Theral. What year is it?”

“What do you mean?”

“I would like to know what the current year is.”

“836,” Kole answered.

“836 of what calendar?” Theral said, a little exasperated. “AF? Dome? Midlian? Canton? Arbith?”

Looking at him now, Kole realized he was only a handful of years older than himself, though his attitude suggested him to be older still.

“AF,” Kole said, now much more curious than anything he’d been feeling prior.

“Oh, well then I got here via magic.”

“Magic?” Kole asked, still confused by the situation.

“If we are just going to keep repeating each other back and forth, this is going to take a while. Can I please have something to drink?”

Distantly in the hall beyond the plank covering the opening to the “room” voices shouted, “I heard someone back here!”

“Is this bad?” Theral asked Kole.

Kole nodded, and the stranger sat up with great effort.

Theral stuck out his hand before him but then stopped himself, asking “You’re going to die bad, or you’re going to get in trouble bad?”

“Probably the second,” Kole admitted.

Theral relaxed slightly and began casting a different spell “Grab anything that’s important to you.”

Kole complied, picking up his torn bag and throwing his scant belongings into it.

“All done? Great. Try to just go with it.”

Kole felt a grip on his arm, and then the sensation of the world falling out from under him. He sensed that he could resist, but remembered the stranger’s words and gave in.

And then, he found himself back in the room he’d found the journal.

“Are we safe here?” Kole asked, still panicked. “They are tracking me somehow.”

Theral cast a spell with a rather long verbal component and thrust his open palm towards Kole.

There,” he said, “that should break the tracking.”

It only then sunk in that they’d just teleported from his hideout to this room.

“How did you do that?!”

“Magic, obviously. Did you hit your head?”

“No, I mean, how did we get here?”

Slower, Theral repeated, “Magic. Obviously. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“No, that has to be at least a fourth-tier spell. How old are you, 18? There’s no way you could do that.”

“Sure, lets go with 18, it's technically correct which is the best kind of correct and often the only kind that will keep you sane. Listen, why don’t you tell me how you found that journal while I drink this entire jug of water, and then I’ll explain some things.”

Theral picked up the pitcher that Kole recalled contained mayonnaise and began to drink out of it, still wincing from the pain of whatever had befallen him.

Not really sure what to do, Kole complied and told the man of how he’d stumbled across the hideout while fleeing the professor.

“You’re one to talk,” he said, interrupting. “You’re what 14?”

“15,” Kole said reflexively.

“Okay, 15. Invisibility is at least a third tier. Maybe a chameleon spell could be done at second. Or has wizardry come that far?”

Come that far? What does he mean? Kole thought

As if confessing some great sin, Kole admitted with embarrassment and shame, “Actually, sir, I’m a primal.”

Sir? Why did I call him Sir? He asked himself. The man was hardly his senor, but he did exude an air of authority common only to the most competent wizards Kole had interacted with.

“Really!?” Theral said, with eager excitement. “Which Font?”

Taken aback by the sudden interest, Kole was at a loss for words.

Misunderstanding the silence, Theral continued, “Oh, is that private? I’ve not met another primal wizard before.”

“Another?” Kole asked, full of hope. “You’ve met one before? Who? Where? Can I meet him?”

“Well,” Theral answered, his turn to feel embarrassed. “It's a bit of a special case, but I’m sort of a primal Wizard.”

“How?! How do you create gates? How do you escape the pull of your Font?”

Theral cocked his head for a moment, but then seemed to understand.

“Oh, that makes sense,” he said seemingly to himself. “With a bridge opening too close to a Font, it could anchor it to that spot in the Arcane, much like a Primordial does to anchor a gate. Wait... does your bridge open near a Font or in a Font?”

“Yeah… the first one.” Kole said, confused even further.

This young prodigy was outlining common knowledge as if he’d just pieced it together. Was he dumb? Or sheltered? Who didn’t know why primals couldn’t be wizards. But… he’d correctly guessed that Kole’s bridge opened next to his Font, and not inside, and he’d never heard anyone else even suggest the possibility.

“Well that would make things easier. So you are what? A Light primal?” Theral asked. “Sorry, if thats rude.”

Theral cast a Light spell as he spoke, fully illuminating the room.

“Illusion,” Kole corrected, and then pointing to the light asked, "How'd you do that?"

"What do you mean?"

"You're a Spatial primal right? From the Hollow Peak? How'd you cast Light?"

"Oh, I see. Holl—," he cut himself off, then said to himself "no, better not to ask."

Back to Kole, he said, "How about you tell me about what your specific issue is, and we'll see if we can help."

"We?" Kole thought, looking around the room.

Kole weighed the risks of sharing his not-so-secret secret with the stranger, but as he thought about it, he had nothing to lose—except for his life, but no one has hunted sorcerers in ages.

So, Kole told the man about himself. How his mother was a Mirage Knight—which the man hadn't heard of but restrained from asking about—how his father was a Stormcaller, and how he'd chosen to pursue wizardry at a young age. He then went on to tell of how he'd unlocked his vault at 9 and opened a bridge at 10, and that the bridge had opened outside of Font of Illusions, instead of inside it like all the other primals.

The man seemed to grasp the significance of that, and then asked a bunch of questions.

Kole explained, "I can cast any cantrip but, it takes about 15 Will for me to even open my bridge to a gate, which makes anything beyond a cantrip cost more than I could afford until recently."

"15 Will, as in Will grains?" Theral asked.

Kole nodded and Theral gave a gesture to carry on.

"So, I can cast spells, they all cost too much. I'm a sorcerer too, but I unlocked a weak chameleon spell at first that later became Invisibility. There's not a lot of problems turning invisible doesn’t fix, and my sorcery doesn't seem inclined to branch out to new Fonts."

"Have you tried tying yourself to a tree? Drowning? Smoke inhalation?" Theral asked, entirely serious.

Kole laughed, but then realized it wasn't a joke and said, "No. No one does that barbaric nonsense anymore."

He seemed to look disappointed by the answer but then smiled and asked, "Why don't you just cast from your bridge? Send the spell out without a path or gate and just modify it until it gets there. Illusions probably adjusted to—"he paused to think, "Sound, Light, maybe Mind?"

"Here," he continued, pulling out a rather ornamented golden spellbook from a satchel that still smelled new, but looked as if it had already been in countless battles.

Without looking he pulled two sheets out of the book and handed them to Kole.

"Take these, learn the spell component and ignore the rest."

"How do I create a path?" Kole asked as he looked at the spellforms he'd just been handed.

They looked far less complicated than the ones he was used to learning. They were free of all the support structures that had been developed to reduce Will cost while retaining potency.

Positively archaic. Kole thought. Exactly what he needed.

Theral looked at the book shelf and moved to grab a book but winced in pain. Instead, he flipped his spellbook to a different page without looking and pulled a handful of sheets out.

"Flood, I'm heading back. These will help with the path, they're my notes from some of those books" He said, dropping the stack of pages by the bed beside him.

"Leave this on the door." Theral said as another page flew out of his spellbook into Kole's hand.

Kole looked up to the door Theral had gestured to and saw the room now held a second door on the back wall.

Kole read the note:

Let the kid stay.

-T