A Fool's Tale

Chapter 23 - The Apprentice

Master Isidor warned me training would be difficult, but I did not truly comprehend the suffering that was to come.

On the first day of my apprenticeship, he placed a thin candle upon the worktable and instructed me to sit in front of the unlit taper.

"Do you recall the pain you experienced when your innate pool of magic reacted to me and Malacor?" he asked.

I nodded. If only I could forget.

"What you must do is delve deep into that feeling, for that is where your magic resides. After you are within your core of magic, look for a burning sensation. It represents the power of fire. When you find it, focus on the wick of the candle. If all goes well, the wick shall ignite."

"And if it doesn't go well? Is there any danger?" I exclaimed with alarm, imagining an explosion destroying us and the laboratory.

"If it doesn't go well you'll have a searing headache, and have to try again. As for danger, the risk is minimal because you'll be focusing on the wick, and you will not, under any condition, attempt anything more dramatic." Isidor narrowed his eyes and his voice became stern.

I hesitated. I dare say few people would willingly immerse themselves in the excruciating pain I'd experienced. "Are most apprentices successful on their first attempt?" I looked to Isidor for reassurance.

He chuckled. "My dear boy, you should count yourself lucky if you manage to light that candle before the day is done."

Not quite the response I was hoping for.

And so the longest day of my life began.

Taking a deep breath, I closed my eyes and searched for my pool of magic. It was surprisingly easy to find, a shimmering well of power pulsing in the recesses of my mind. I plunged inside. Immediately, a searing pain shot through my head, as if someone had taken a spike and thrust it through my eye. Instinctively, I tried to push it away. The agony intensified. I opened my eyes and withdrew, pressing the heels of my hands against my temples, trying to rub the pain away. Despair rushed through me. How could I possibly find the power of fire while enduring such torment?

"You tried to push it away, didn't you?" Isidor observed.

"Yes, but the more I fought, the worse I felt."

"It's natural. Everyone reacts the same way. You're instinctually using magic to fight against your own magic. You are battling pain with more pain. You need to embrace the emotion, not struggle against it."

"Why didn't you say that from the start?" I complained.

"It wouldn't have mattered. Your instincts would have taken over. It's better to learn from experience." Isidor blandly brushed my comment aside.

I disagreed, but didn't see the point in arguing.

Steeling my will, I tried again. The dagger of agony drove into my brain. I tried to embrace the feeling, but instinctually found myself fighting against it, and soon retreated as the pain escalated.

"Perhaps you understand now." Isidor smirked, then he turned away and began tinkering on one of his charms, humming a cheerful tune to himself.

I gritted my, sorely tempted to rage at him about the impossibility of the task he set before me, but I sensed Isidor was testing my will. Fine. I'd pass his stupid test, even if it killed me.

Clenching my fists, I tried again...and again...and again. I do not know how many times I tried and failed. I lost track. I was living in a world of pain with brief reprieves of pounding headaches; my head slumped upon the table.

Eventually, I learned to stop fighting against the magic, which helped, but I could still only withstand the agony for brief periods before giving up.

At the end of the day, when I'd nearly given up all hope, I felt a pulse of heat. I snatched it, opened my eyes and focused on the wick of the candle. A searing blast of pain shot through my body. It was as if I'd been placed into a pit of fire. I tumbled from my chair onto the stone floor and rolled around, trying to put out the flames. There was nothing to extinguish. It was all in my mind.

"Master Isidor."

"Yes Gael." He turned from his work.

I wearily stood and pointed a shaky finger at the now flickering candle.

Isidor beamed. "Oh, well done. On your first day no less."

I didn't know whether to celebrate or cry.

"I need to go home." My throat felt like glass shards had been stuffed into it, and I spoke each word with care.

"Of course. Do be careful on the stairs."

Turning, I slowly walked away.

"And Gael..."

I paused.

"...try not to despair. It will get better."

I nodded, but I'm not ashamed to admit that tears streamed down my face as I inched down the staircase, clinging to the thin iron railing. I don't know if it was the agony in my head or his kind parting words that caused my tears, but I didn't think I could endure another day like that. The thought of returning filled me with dread.

The next day, I was scheduled to work at the stables. Talia was there when I arrived.

"Sooo, how did it go," she asked cheerfully.

"Fine," I grunted and brushed past her.

"Did you cast any spells?" She continued happily, not picking up on my foul mood.

"I have work to do." I strode into the stables and slammed the door shut. It was a nasty way to treat my best friend, but I was so out of sorts that I didn't even feel bad about my ill manners.

Grooming the horses was peaceful, and although much of the work was physically tiring, it gave my mind an opportunity to recover. I daresay if Isidor had expected me to return today I would have just been another failed apprentice. As it was, fear of magic occupied my thoughts for most of the day, and yet my core of resolve to protect Talia at any cost held strong.