The Committal

Part Five: A Farewell, and a Beginning

The morning after the Supper, Strider had given me a Magykal mark on my left arm to denote my experience and what "element" I was (which he said was an old categorization from when there were enough Wizards to go to school together, but it didn't mean a whole lot nowadays), a stylized gust of wind with one hollow circle beneath it, denoting that I had started my first year of training. He had told me that it would take twenty-four years to be a full Wizard, when the training mark would be replaced by a mage's true mark. He intended me to ascend to immortality one day too, but assured me it would be "a long age before you're even within shouting distance."

We pulled up to the gate, and we were let through; Gringe knew me(for better or for worse), and Strider wouldn't take no for an answer. We set our horses in the stable and headed up Wizard Way. I kept my hood up, because I knew the fact that the ExtraOrdinary Appentice was missing would've spread quickly, and we wanted this to be as quiet an operation as possible. I looked around and once again felt a stab of regret at my decision. You've had the Supper and gotten marked. You have your Apprenticeship gift, I reminded myself, fingering the black pendant. There's no going back now. I don't know whether the thought thrilled me, terrified me, or depressed me.

We reached the doors of the Wizard Tower. I spoke the password-I still knew it, and they hadn't changed it in case I came back-and we walked into the lobby. I breathed a little deeper. It felt good to be back, even if I wouldn't be again for a long time.

Welcome, ExtraOrdinary Apprentice, the floor told me as it swirled around my boots. I felt a little flutter in my chest, a little rising panic realizing that when I came back down, it wouldn't say that any more. What would it say? Welcome, Former ExtraOrdinary Apprentice who walked out on the ExtraOrdinary Wizard? Welcome, Magykal Traitor? My mind raced ahead of my footsteps, panicking all the way up to the ExtraOrdinary's rooms while I was still in the lobby. Welcome, Froda Bjørnasen, the floor flashed around his feet. Whatever his real name was, the Tower didn't know it either. Though I didn't know where the "Froda" came from. Something told me, though, that it definitely was not his real name.

We stepped onto the staircase. My hood was still up, because I would still get a massive scolding from half the Tower after the Committal, and we were on a schedule. At least that's what Strider said. Though honestly, I didn't want to spend more time here than I had to. Once, the ExtraOrdinary Apprenticeship was all I had wanted, but now, I was rejecting it. I felt ungrateful. Marcia would need to find a new Apprentice, a new successor. I knew then that I didn't want to meet them. Not ever. How would the Castle history portray me? As the ExtraOrdinary Apprentice who stole the Queen Jenna's right to perform the spell then scarpered after the coronation? Would my name be reviled? Would they gloss it all over entirely?

I had been so lost in my own thoughts that I hardly realized that Strider and I stood in front of the door to Marcia's rooms. What was I giving up? "There's no going back now." I don't know if Strider told me this or simply thought it, but I knew he was right. My time for doubts had passed.

The door swung open. It still recognized me. Inside I found Marcia's things in a disarray. At the sound of the opening door, she came down the stairs and stared at me.
"Septimus!" She cried, relieved. She rushed towards me, nearly tripped twice on a pillow from the couch, and was two feet away from me when she noticed Strider.
"Who are you?" she asked hostilely, back to her usual manner. Her hands had stuck to her hips as if by magnetism, and she scowled fiercely at Strider. Already I missed her.
"Madam Marcia. I come here regarding your former Apprentice's future," Strider said softly. He had his voice turned onto a mode where it was soft, soothing, and pleasant to hear, to the point of which someone could be so fixated on the tone they would not wholly notice what was being spoken. It almost worked on Marcia, but shortly after he had finished speaking she popped her eyes open and flung out a retort.
"Former Apprentice? I don't know who you are, or what you think you're doing, but Septimus is still my Apprentice regardless of what happened with the Committal."