The Lich

Magik Camp

Fourteen days before the winter solstice, I joined the Drafting Battalion on a fortnight march through three villages of roughly equal population and territory to my own. The last rendezvous before reaching our training camp was the Northern Capital of Cain, Argedon.

Argedon alone contributed more than twice the number of recruits we had already gathered, bringing our total numbers to roughly three hundred. Most the recruits who actually go on to become Battlemages originate from the capital city, as it is the region in which individuals with the highest of latent magik potential have congregated for ages.

One recruit in particular caught my eye through the masses, however. A young woman, no older than nineteen years of age. Slightly taller than most women of her age, with the figure and silhouette that of one matured another five years. Stark raven hair barely grazing her shoulders, eyes the deep green of autumn pines after a fresh rain.

Objectively, none could deny her physical beauty, yet that paled in comparison to that which one could not see. The aura about her, one of power, grace and intellect; still yet, playful, lively and adventurous.

With so many aspiring youths volunteering for the Draft, here in the Capital the Battlemages require a demonstration of innate talent for commanding magik. Brief, quick demonstrations, feats of healing, summoning or manipulating the elements of nature. Most would-be recruits opting to summon a small ball of light or seal small cuts in their hands.

Her aura gave her away to my senses before her turn had come, and knowing she would be the most promising candidate, I found myself fixated on the raven haired girl. Sure enough, as it came to be her opportunity to show her ability, even the seasoned Battlemages of Cain had locked their attention to her. She took a leveling breath, deep green eyes hidden behind long, dark lashes. As she opened her eyes again, she raised one palm to the sky and silently called forth a single bolt of lightning from the heavens. Bringing her hand down to her waist, she held with both hands the pure fury and brightness of a raging maelstrom.

All watched in awe as the lightning arced back to the clouds when her grasp loosed. She was destined for the higher ranks of the Battlemages, perhaps even the title of The Lich.