From Iron and Ruin

Lessons and Lies

Chapter Six: Lessons and Lies. 

Eira's students were young-faced and soft, dressed in pale white robes that held a blue trim around the cuffs and the neck. As we stepped inside, the three students fell silent. Two girls and a boy stood there silent and immaculate. One girl smirked as Gwen shifted through the doorway awkwardly, grumbling that it was too small for her.

I was a bigger source of intrigue as they snapped to attention, eyeing me cautiously like I was some kind of experiment that was going to explode before them. Eira, dressed in ice-blue robes, smiled beautifully at our entrance. Gold rings shimmered from her fingers and she seemed to dance as she moved, fluid and effortless in her grace.

"Seeker Birchwood, Miss Feldspar, welcome!" Eira spread her hands out wide, beckoning us in. "This is my class of advanced Magins, all who hold the potential to become proficient Magisters. This fine young man is Anthony Bronlin."

The young man looked soft. Pale, pudgy hands and slicked back blond hair that looked too thin to below to a boy of his age. He managed a weak smile, eyeing Gwen like she was going to lunge and gobble him up. Trembling, he raised his hand and managed a weak greeting as he shook her hand. To me, he managed a weak smile. "Seeker Birchwood."

The next girl was dark skinned like Eira and she greeted us with a cautious warmth. Byomi. The last girl, however, with her dark hair and freckled skin, just held her breath as I held out my hand to her. For a moment, I frowned, wondering if I had somehow gotten their human custom wrong.

"I – we don't have to shake hands Seeker Birchwood."

Something tightened in my chest and I looked to Fyr uncertainly. Her lips pressed tight together, anger splicing her expression. Magister Eira frowned at the girl. "Mabel, you are being rude."

"I –"Mabel's cheek darkened. "I just know that Elves do not greet each other this way. They twist their hands like this..." she brought her hand up to her brow and pressed her two forefingers to the centre and swept it out shortly.

"You know elvish customs?" I asked, delighted.

"I know a little." Mabel hedged, slightly uncomfortable.

I didn't question her more and Fyr, Gwen and I settled back to watch Eira' class. The hour seemed to fly and I was intrigued by how the Water Magister thought her class of budding experts. Eira seemed so lovely and warm, but she held their attention with an iron-fist, demanding perfection. Her most repeated word – do that again"

The way she ruled her classroom reminded me of Mentor Elre's training sessions. His relentless pursuit of perfection from his students. The desire to do well for him. The memories were tinged with fondness now.

"Many think that water is the weakest of the elements but that is not true." Eira prowled around her students while water moved around her waist like a snake. A blue stone, set in a choker at her neck, pulsed gently. "They are wrong. Water can give life and it can also take it away. Just like fire burns all in its path, it also gives warmth. I have seen Water Magins use their magic foolishly and drown in their own spells. I have seen them kill their friends with a wrong twist of their hands, or a stupid use of their perceived strength. We are not Elves. Magic is not in our blood like it is in theirs. Without our casting stones, our magic is wild and chaotic. Even with our casting stones, we need to be smarter than it."

Her fingers curled and she held a knife of ice, wickedly sharp and gleaming as the light from the window caught it. "Ice is my love, as fire is Magister Fyr's love. Ice can burn just as deeply as fire, kill just as swiftly and matches its beauty. It can take years of mastering this one facet of water to truly control it. One wrong, overreaching move and the ice you're casting will solidify your blood and kill you. Questions?"