“Master Devlin, thank you for joining us today. Would you please explain just what you meant by that?” Headmaster Dondrian asked.
From the looks on the faces of the gathered wizards, with the exception of Magus Allister and the headmaster, his presence came as a surprise.
“You have a boy that you claim is highly clever and not lacking in intelligence, can undo the wards of established wizards, nearly kills half his classmates with a spell only a journeyman spell caster, at the least, should be able to manage, yet fails to learn anything beyond the typical novice spells. It should be obvious even to cookbook spell casters like yourselves what the problem is. You are trying to teach wizard spells to a sorcerer!” Master Devlin exclaimed.
A collective gasp arose from the mouths the wizards in attendance and once again, Azerick found all eyes in the room turned to him.
“What does that mean; I’m a sorcerer?” Azerick asked.
“It means that we were trying to make you into something you are not. Most people with an intelligence as astute as yours can learn some very basic spells, little more than tricks really, even if they lack the true gift of magic. What confounded us all was the fact that your aura showed a strong propensity for channeling magic. What we failed to see was that you possess a spirit that runs directly counter wizardry. Simply put, you cannot be a wizard, we cannot teach you, and you cannot learn to become a wizard. Who you are, your very nature, simply will not allow it. It would be like teaching a horse to fly,” Magus Allister explained in a soft voice.
“Does that mean I have to leave the Academy?” he asked, suddenly very concerned.
“No, I have asked Master Devlin if he would take you on as his apprentice, and he has been generous enough to accept you if you wish to do so. You will stay at the Academy, stay in your own room, but Master Devlin will teach your applied magic and magical theory classes to you. Would you like to study under Master Devlin? Please know that sorcerers are very rare and we are all quite proud to host your instruction here at the Academy. However, if you would prefer not to apprentice under Master Devlin, we will find you a position at the Martial or Scholar’s Academy.”
“Yes, where the next student who hits you with a sword at the wrong time, catches a fireball in his face and you both die a horrible death,” Master Devlin said in a sarcastic tone.
“Master Devlin, please. Whatever polite social graces our guest may lack, he is correct," the old wizard said, facing Azerick again. ”You do run the risk of losing control of your power again. In fact, the older you get the more likely it will happen, unless you are able to learn some control on your own. It is possible. There are hedge wizards and sorcerers out there that have done that very thing. However, it is not a path I would recommend,” Master Allister informed the young sorcerer.
“I want to go with Master Devlin. Wizard or sorcerer, I know that I am meant to wield magic.”
“Very well, Master Devlin will take you to where you will begin your instruction. You may go now,” Headmaster Dondrian said, dismissing him.
Without so much as a nod to the assembled wizards, Master Devlin opened the door and rushed Azerick out of the room. They walked in silence down the stairs of the headmaster’s tower, across the main hall, and up the stairs of another tower where he was ushered into a round room similar in size and shape to the headmaster’s Office. It contained most everything a student and Magus would require.
There was a bookshelf with several books lining the shelves. Azerick could tell that they were a new addition since they were about the only thing in the room not covered in a thick layer of dust. At the far wall, a large desk sat facing the door; a smaller desk sat facing it about ten feet away. A table sat against another wall near a shuttered window that Master Devlin stalked over to and opened, letting in some much needed fresh air. Across the room from the window, an alcove opened up into another room.
“Take a seat, boy,” the sorcerer commanded, pulling up the chair from behind the large desk but chose not to take a seat as well.
He paced about the room, hands steepled under his chin.
“Tell me what they have taught you so far so I have an idea of how much damage they did,” the intimidating sorcerer demanded.
“Um, I learned several cantrips, verbal, somatic, and reagent requirements for several novice spells and a few apprentice spells even though I have not been able to cast any spells above novice yet and none without great difficulty and problems. I learned about the history of magic, magic fundamentals, and alchemy, and I am good in math, writing, and engineering. Oh, and I can also animate simple constructs powering them with basic spells for short periods of time.”
The last statement actually got a reaction from the dour sorcerer in the form of raised eyebrows.
“You have a reasonable level of education which is good, I can’t abide a dullard. I have not the time, patience, nor inclination for such. Remember what you learned about magic fundamentals, but do not attempt to use anything they taught you about magic. That information is for the sake of knowledge itself. As for as your education in applied magic; forget everything they taught you completely, it will do you no good. Worse yet, it will keep you from learning what you must about sorcery.”
He clasped his hands behind his back, turned, and stared down at his new apprentice.
“I am what you shall become, a sorcerer. I am impatient, intolerant, and rather brusque. I lack a certain political tact that some people are apt to call rudeness, and I make no apologies for it. I am a hard taskmaster and you may not like my methods or demeanor, but I assure you that you will learn. You are the only student I have so you gain the benefit of having my expertise and pleasant disposition all to yourself. You may ask your question now,” Master Devlin invited, finishing his speech.
“You called the mages in the headmaster’s office cookbook spell casters. What did you mean by that?”
“I meant to insult them, as I often do to my great pleasure, but I suppose you are looking for a more specific answer to your question. What do you know of sorcerers?
“Nothing, nothing at all; I thought they were the same as wizards just called something different.”
“I will forgive your ignorance and your insult this one time. No, wizards and sorcerers are quite different though to the ignorant what we do may look the same. It all has to do with the way we tap into the Source. You do know what the Source is, don’t you, boy?”
“It is the source of all magic, where we draw on the energy to power our spells,” Azerick answered, glad he was able to show his new master that he was not totally ignorant.
“Correct, the greatest difference is how we tap the Source. Wizards have to memorize and constantly maintain long complicated spells containing words of power and roll bat guano between their fingers and other such reagents to gain access to the Source. The reagents act as a sort of bridge or catalyst to the Source. It is why I call them cookbook casters because like a baker or scullery maid using a cookbook to create a meal, anyone with a touch of magical proclivity can pick up a spell book and cast any spell they find in that book if they are given enough time to prepare. Assuming they have the appropriate amount of skill of course.
“A sorcerer has no need of animal droppings, spell books, or anything else to wrench open a path to the Source because we are part of the Source. The Source flows through us all the time like a small tributary that branches off the main river and returns to it further on. Sorcery still requires certain hand gestures to weave the magic channeled from the Source to form our spells and to use certain chants that enable us to better form those weavings of magic, with some exceptions. Sorcerers are able to cast some spells without the use of the verbal component, but it is far more difficult and taxing. Some wizards of sufficient power can emulate this as well.”
“So if sorcerers don’t have spell books or instructions, how do they learn their spells?”
“Each sorcerer casts his or her spells differently. You have to determine the most efficient way to access the Source and bend it to your will in a way that works best for you. I can give you basic instructions in how to form castings and draw upon the Source, but you will have to learn how to form the final spells yourself. As you increase in your skill and power, you must think hard on what type of spells you want to learn next since you do not have the luxury of swapping out spells on a whim like a wizard can. Once you learn a spell it is yours forever and can never be replaced, so think carefully on what type of sorcerer you want to be because the number of different spells you will have access to is limited.”
“Wouldn’t it be better to be able to have a selection of spells to choose from? It seems to me like a wizard has an advantage in that he can tailor the spells he has memorized for a given situation.”
“There are certain benefits to be had in that regard, I’ll grudgingly admit. However, how often do you think you will know exactly what to expect, or what you will encounter? That is why it is very important to know what kind of life you will lead. Knowing that will allow you to focus on the spells that you will likely use most often. You can read scrolls of magic and use wands or magical devices just as any wizard can if you have need of a particular spell or to augment your arsenal if need be.”
“So who is more powerful, a wizard or a sorcerer?”
“I may be a bit prejudice in my opinions, but for sheer destructive force, a sorcerer will almost always outclass a wizard. A wizard may be able have more variables to his casting, but a sorcerer can cast far more spells before fatiguing. A wizard must spend hours pouring over his spell book to memorize his spells and prepare himself in the event that he may be required to use his magic. A sorcerer is always ready, and after he is fatigued to the point where he can no longer cast, he needs only get a few hours of sleep like any man and be ready for battle once again. Make no mistake, when a general or a noble goes into battle, he will take a battle-trained sorcerer over a wizard every time. The amount of shear destructive force a powerful sorcerer can lay down is a truly awesome thing. We don’t just know magic, we are magic.”
Azerick absorbed this information and ran it all through his mind.
What kind of sorcerer do I want to be?
He thought about the conflicts in his life thus far and the need to avenge his father. He knew that the time of violence and the need to defend himself has not passed and he made his decision with ease.
“Master Devlin, I know what kind of sorcerer I need to be. I am ready to begin as soon as you are willing to teach me.”
“Very good, you show enthusiasm without a childish flippant attitude. We will begin in the morning. You will study under my tutelage in place of your applied magic class and history, I think. I need to bring you up to speed and this is more important than learning about old dead wizards. I will see you tomorrow. You may go,” he said in dismissal.
Azerick returned to his room, nervous about the sudden change in his life, but the knowledge that his failures in magic were not a result of his ineptitude buoyed his spirits.
Rusty was still in class so he had the room to himself. He sat in solitude for a time pondering everything that had happened in the past couple days. He thought of the mysterious and frightening vision or dream he had. He thought about what it would mean to be a sorcerer. Thinking of that, he stretched out his hand and tried to touch the Source with his mind.
He felt the strange tingling sensation course up his arm until he felt it all over his body. It came to him much easier than it had when he tried to touch it in the wizard way. He started moving his hand, shaping the energy from the Source into a specific purpose with his thoughts and will. He called out a word of power purely on instinct and felt the deep pleasure that controlling and releasing magical energy always brought him.
“Hey!” Rusty shouted as he came through the door.
Azerick opened his eyes and immediately saw that he had set Rusty’s blanket on fire. Both boys rushed to the bed, folding the blanket up and snuffing out the flames.
“At least I only set my own stuff on fire,” Rusty complained.
“Oh really? I didn’t realize Carrot was wearing your hat.”
They both laughed at Azerick’s jest as well as the small accident that left a large scorch mark in the middle of Rusty’s blanket.