1A/N: Updates every Sunday!
Chapter One—The WAFE Mage
Ben ran.
He tripped over his feet on nothing but air, stumbled back up and continued running. Behind him, reaching out to claw at him from just a hair's breadth away, was fire and laughter and screaming.
He stumbled again, but was not able to catch himself before he fell on all fours. He crawled instead, feeling hot breath on his neck and a mother's pleading. He twisted around, but there was nobody there. Instead, a burning manor stood right in front of him. Glass shattered, and black objects he couldn't identify fell from the windows.
He looked up and saw a figure pressed against the attic window. It was a blurry, and too far away to clearly make out. But Ben saw the woman that was there scream at him as if he was floating in front of the window. Her bronze locks swung as she cried for help, shaking her head and body in terror.
Ben tried to get up and save her, but she was dragged from the window even before he swayed onto his feet. He heard her screams suddenly, even though he'd heard absolutely nothing since he fell down. He reached out to her, but was jerked back.
He found himself on the ground, spread-eagled as roots sprang up from the earth and restrained him. He struggled uselessly as the roots thickened until it felt like they were the gnarled branches of trees rather than the tiny roots of garden plants.
Before him formed a circle of black shapes. They had no features or clothes, it was as if the darkest ink had risen up and coalesced into humanlike shapes. He struggle again, trying to will the roots away, trying to burn them to crisp, but he could do nothing.
"Oh Ben, you're a good boy, aren't you? You won't struggle, will you?" he heard her say.
And then, he was inside the manor, just lying on the floor and completely able to move. He jumped to his feet and backed up against the wall of books. This was his father's study, a room he was rarely invited to. He would be in so much trouble if he got caught.
He'd brought the figures with him into the room. But now they were all people. Normal people who looked like they had their own husbands, wives, and children at home. They looked like fathers and mothers and nursemaids.
"He's a wonderful specimen," one remarked idly.
"Yes, he is! Imagine what we could do with him. Train him? Sell him? Breed him?" another replied cheerfully.
Ben grabbed a torch from the stone wall behind him and held it in front of him like a shield. He tried willing the fire to jump from the torch to the circle, but nothing happened.
He dropped the torch and pushed the air in front of him, hoping to blow away the men and women. The air didn't respond.
Desperately, he wiped his tears and tried to create a flood to drown them. The water disappeared, leaving only salt on his hands.
Throughout his struggles, the group of friends chatted. They caught up on work tales, and the mischiefs of their children. One woman studied him, but did not respond even when he begged her to let him go. The man standing next to her genially argued with a friend about how much Ben was worth.
They oscillated between his weight in gold, and nothing more than a bronze flake. The man who was trying to sell him supported both prices, but couldn't seem to decide which was the better bargain.
He caught a glimpse of bronze and struggled from the table he was suddenly strapped to, calling out to the woman. She was gone before he could fully turn around to see her, leaving behind a bracelet that fell to the ground in slow motion.
And then, finally, he was alone. He had his bed and desk, his clothes and shoes. But his room did not have doors or windows, just blank wall on all sides. Ben ran to the wall and started banging on it, screaming to be let out, promising to behave. He screamed until his voice gave out, and then his legs. He pounded until his hands were bloody, and there were hints of flesh and bone.
He tried calling out for his parents, for his nursemaid, and for his elements. There was no answer.
Ben woke up gasping. He scrambled off the bed and ran to his backpack. He pulled out what he needed, hands trembling and body shivering. There was a jar filled with earth, another filled with glitter, a water bottle filled with water, and a box of matchsticks. He arranged them all in front of him, and pulled his feet under him.
He reached for the earth first, and held the jar in front of his eyes. He moved his thumbs as he held the jar, and let out a sob of relief when the earth moved with him. He spent a long moment molding the earth through the jar.
He picked up the water bottle and opened it. He concentrated on the water and pulled it out, letting it float on the air above the bottle like a gentle wave. Calming, he gestured for the water to enter the bottle again, and it did so smoothly.
Next, he picked up the jar of glitter and held it in one hand. He held the other hand in front of the jar and crooked his fingers. The glitter started flying and spinning around in the jar. He rotated his pointer finger slowly, and the glitter flowed in a circle. Smiling slightly now, he put the jar down.
Finally, he drew out a matchstick from the box. He held it up and took a deep breath. He blew it over the matchstick, and it caught fire. He stared at the flickering flame for a long time, visions of a burning mansion dancing at the edge of his vision. He sighed, now properly awake, and banished the flame.
He slowly put everything back in his bag where they belonged and got to his feet. He stretched, trying to relieve his aches. The sun lighted his small room, telling him that he needed to be up. He glanced at his watch and confirmed the time. He was due to work in half an hour.
He went to the adjoining bathroom and leaned over the sink. He splashed cold water over his face and then took his first look at himself in the mirror. He black, wet hair hung over his eyes. There were complimenting shadows that surrounded his eyes, making their violet shade seem darker than it actually was. When he was healthy and free of nightmares, his pale skin brought out the depth in his eyes. Now, his face just seemed sallow.
He sighed at the mirror and straightened up. He looked at himself, catching his own eyes and holding it.
"I am safe, I am hidden, they will not find me," he told his reflection. "I have powers, I will use them, they cannot hurt me. I am me, I am myself, they do not own me."
His voice was raspy with unused and sleep, but it held strong. He had been telling himself this for three years, and the doubt that had plagued him the first few months was almost all gone. He was the wafe mage, after all.
The ladies that came to Salister were great sources of information. Ben had learned long ago that the old grandmothers, who came to the restaurant to meet friends and chat about their families, knew so much, had experienced so much, and were always willing to share. If only you listened.
"My grandson just started there last week," Mrs. Cache was saying. "The family was so proud of him! It been a long time since anyone in the family went to Manseker."
"Not since Gerard, if I'm not mistaken?" Janine, never Mrs. Heckle, asked.
"Yes. Not since Gerard, the Goddess be with him."
"How is young Liam taking it so far?" the third old lady, Mrs. Brinkam asked, as she leaned across towards the water jug.
Ben hurried across the room and grabbed the jug instead, giving Mrs. Brinkam a smile. He let go of the tendril of air he had been grasping as he reached them.
"Thank you, sweetheart," she smiled at him before turning back to Mrs. Cache.
Ben took the chance to pour water into all of their glasses, offering each of them a small smile.
"Oh, he's having a grand time so far. Thank you, John, dear," she said to him after he filled the glass.
"Of course, Mrs. Cache," he replied before reaching for Janine's glass.
"I am only worried that the family is putting too much pressure on him," she continued to her friends. "He is only sixteen, after all. Just a child. But his parents, my darling Jez too, push him hard."
"They want the family name to become something again," Janine said.
"Janie—"
"Oh Mozzie darling," Mrs. Cache chuckled. "She is right after all. The Cache family hasn't produced a mage in so long. They see Liam as their chance to get back into the limelight."
Ben tensed. He forced his shoulders to relax and continued walking away from them. He swept his gaze around the room, making sure all the patrons were satisfied. He walked to the bar that stood in front of the kitchen and reached behind it for a cloth and the soap bucket. He crooked his fingers as he did so, pulling the air towards him again. It brought with it wisps of the ladies' conversation.
"Jez was so upset when he got to Manseker as a sixteen year old, and the Gates wouldn't accept him. He threw the biggest tantrum, one I still tease him about." Mrs. Cache chuckled again.
"I remember that time," Janine said. "He'd shown no sign of the elements, but was still so convinced he could get in."
"Poor child," Mrs. Brinkle murmured.
"Nothing poor about him, Mozzie dear. It just wasn't meant for him."
The kitchen door opened, and Ben quickly jerked his fingers away, sending the air back to the table. Sal stepped out, rubbing his hands on his apron.
"Hey Johnie boy, no new customers yet?"
"Not since the last time, no," Ben replied. He scrubbed at the table harder, sloshing soapy water everywhere on its glass surface. When the table was clean enough, he leaned back and swept his hand over the table and towards the soap bucket. The extra water rose from the table and flew to the bucket, gliding like a wave in the air.
"Such amazing talent you have, my boy," Sal remarked. He was always slightly amazed when Ben called on the elements. Well, one element in particular. As far as Salister knew, Ben was a fifteen-year-old orphan named John with an affinity for water. Just water.
"It's nothing," Ben muttered. He glanced at the ladies, "Hey, do you know about Manseker?"
"The mage school?" Sal asked.
"I guess. The ladies were talking about it, and I was wondering. I've never heard of a school for mages."
"Well, how else would mages learn to use the elements properly?" Sal smiled at him.
Ben shrugged. "I always figured you just learned as you go."
"Only you, my boy. Most mages can't control their powers as well as you can I don't think, and at such a young age at that." He grabbed the bucket and took it back behind the bar. Ben followed him. He was eager to know about anything relating to mages.
Sal grinned at him after dropping the bucket off, before grabbing the cloth and putting it away. "Come on, Johnie boy. I'm sure Mrs. Cache knows all about the mage school. And she'd be happy to tell you." He started walking towards their table.
"No," Ben started, "It isn't a big deal." He didn't want to cause anyone trouble, or make them notice him in any way more than just a waiter.
"Don't be silly. Don't you want to go to a mage school and learn about your powers?"
"I—yes."
"Then come on, she's the best person here to tell you. Her husband was a mage you know?"
"Yeah. I heard her tell that to her friends."
Sal grinned at him and stopped by the ladies' table. "Hello Mrs. Cache, Mrs. Brinkam, Janine. How are you ladies doing today?"
"Just great, Sal," Mrs. Brinkam smiled at him.
"Perfect. Has the food been satisfactory?"
"Of course. Amazing as usual."
Sal beckoned Ben forward and gestured to the ladies. "You all know John here, of course?"
When they nodded, looking slightly confused, he continued. "Well, he heard you talking about Manseker and was curious about it. He's a water mage, you know."
"Oh! Is he?" Mrs. Cache smiled widely and turned around to look at him properly.
"I am, ma'am. I'm sorry for listening in on your conversation."
She shook her hand, "Not an issue. If we didn't want anyone to hear what we were saying, we wouldn't be meeting here now, would we?" She beckoned him forward and gestured towards a chair. "Sit down, my boy. Do you want to know about Manseker Academy?"
"Yes, Mrs. Cache."
"Well, I'll try to tell you as much as I know. Would you mind if I borrowed the lad, Salister?"
"Not at all. It's why I brought him to you." Sal smiled at Ben, and he found himself smiling gratefully back. "I'll be in the kitchen if you need me," he said and walked back.
"Now," Mrs. Cache started, leaning towards him. "How old are you?"
"Fifteen. I'll be sixteen in January."
"Perfect, perfect. My grandson's just started there this past week. He's a water mage too, he is. A wonderful lad."
"I heard, ma'am."
"Now, what do you know about the Academy?"
Ben shrugged, "Nothing at all. This is the first time I've heard about it. I didn't know a school for mages existed at all."
"Academy, dear. And there are four of them. Manseker is the one closest to us, of course, just on the other side of the White Forest."
The White Forest wasn't far away from Tremlin. It was named after the white poplar trees that made up the majority of the forest. Ben had never travelled through it before. He'd come to Tremlin from another direction.
"It's a four day walk, but the path is well worn, and there are many travellers," she continued. "Manseker Academy is a grand school, headed by one of the four Great Mages. Each of them takes care of one of the Academies. Have you heard of the Great Mages?"
Ben nodded, "The four most powerful mages, right? One for each element."
"Yes, well, Great Mage Azareth Bath heads Manseker Academy. I've never seen him personally, but Liam writes that he seems like a wonderful man."
"What about the school itself? What can you tell me about that?" He tried to curb his excitement, not wanting to bother the ladies too much.
"Academy, dear. Most mages start there the year they turn sixteen, and spend the next four years there. That's usually how long it takes to graduate from the program. Once you do, of course, you're completely trained as a mage, and able to be employed as one too."
That…seemed amazing, really. He hadn't met a lot of mages in the last few years, and he almost never used his powers around people. He missed being able to do that. Training formally, and being employed as a mage seemed like a wonderful goal.
"So," he asked her. "Is it all mages there? At the Academy? I've, uh, not been around mages much. What I do is mostly self taught, and it's not a lot, really."
"I wouldn't worry about that. Everyone who goes there starts fresh. Since mage powers develop at around fifteen, the children don't really have any control of their powers before they join. You'll fit in perfectly."
He can't remember a time when his powers had not been developed, but he doesn't tell her that. The people in the towns before had always commented that his powers had developed early. Thankfully, they weren't too suspicious since thirteen was not really that much younger than fifteen.
He thought about it, being able to actually learn who is was, and what that meant. He would be around other mages. Maybe he would even find another mage who could control all four of the elements? It seemed unlikely, but in a school for mages, it could be possible.
He frowned suddenly. "Uh, I don't really have the money for it, though." The school definitely sounded prestigious, and that meant money. He always saved up most of what he earned, but maybe he would take up another job.
"It's completely free," he heard Janine say and turned to look at her.
"Free?"
"Yes. The school is run on donations from its graduated mages. I know Cindy writes them a check every year."
Cindy was Janine's wife. She was an air mage who was employed in the next town as a veterinarian.
"Yes, yes," Mrs. Cache agreed. "Completely free. The education, room and board is completely paid for by the mage community. Even the books and clothes are available for free."
Ben stared at them. It suddenly seemed too good to be true. He'd never heard about Manseker before, and now he was told there was a school just for mages that provided everything they needed for four years?
Janine seemed to sense that he was overwhelmed and gave him one of her rare smiles. "Yes, it does seem like a bit much, doesn't it?"
He nodded.
"Mages are an important part of our society, child. And a part that can harm us if their powers are left uncontrolled. Training for mages is absolutely crucial. And, you know, it pays well if you can find a job. Giving a small amount of that money to the school that taught you everything is a very small price to pay for most everyone."
"I guess," he mumbled. "Uh, how would I get there? And when can I go? As soon I turn sixteen?" The questions came pouring out of him, unbidden.
Mrs. Cache shook her head and smiled, "No, dear. The school year starts on the first day of Autumn, on the Equinox. All new students enroll then. You'll have to be at the Academy grounds on that morning, for Invitation Day."
Next Autumn. That gave him almost an entire year. And suddenly it was too far away. But it was something. Something to look forward to. Something that would help him find himself, hopefully.
Maybe something that would make him stop and stay. He'd been adrift for three years, travelling from village to village, never making friends and moving before he got too attached. Maybe Manseker would be the place he finally stopped.