Vigo unbuckled the belt from the dead wizard and pulled the sword and scabbard away from the lifeless and bloodied body. He wrapped the belt around the scabbard and tucked the wizard’s sword beneath his pack.

  “You didn’t want to let him go?” Leif was still looking at the now still body of the bounty hunter. He felt confused. He wasn’t altogether against the killing but the hunter had no longer been a threat. He’d been begging for his life.

  Vigo ignored his question and looked straight into Leif’s eyes, “Why is Prince Magnus of Maedelund sending bounty hunters and wizards after you?”

  “I don’t know,” Leif responded, sucking in a breath of air that he seemed to hold for a moment too long.

  “You’re lying,” said Vigo sharply. “I’ve seen or heard of precious few living wizards or witches these last five years. And here Prince Magnus is pairing them with bounty hunters to hunt you. You’re important to him. You’ve put my life in danger and you’re lying to me. I don’t care who you are but I need to know why I just killed a wizard and a hunter.”

  Leif had set out on this quest in secrecy for a reason. After witnessing the two killings and seeing the anger in Vigo’s eyes, he supposed he had little choice but to tell him. He hoped he could trust the wizard. “My father is Eric Olander. He was…next in line for the Maedish throne. That is, until he was wrongly imprisoned in Maedelund some weeks ago. My mother was given a tip that the prince would be collecting me next so I left to find a wizard.”

  Leif looked to Vigo apprehensively, then continued. “It has become a running joke among the Maedish aristocracy that whoever has a claim to the throne tends to be quietly removed in one way or another. Magnus isn’t the problem, or well, he is a problem, especially since he is himself a wizard, but not the root of it. After King Boe died, Queen Isabella became paranoid.”

  “Well, that is news I was not expecting,” said Vigo, “What was your father charged with?”

  “Evading taxes.”

  “And did he do it?”

  “The evidence they presented was fabricated.”

  “That’s a dodge,” Vigo smirked. “Are you telling me, that I have taken on as an apprentice, the next in line to the throne of Maedelund, while the current queen and prince are trying to have him killed?” Vigo jerked his sword from the chest of the dead wizard. He then carefully wiped the blood from the blade using the unbloodied parts of the wizards clothes. Despite the gruesomeness of the scene, the way Vigo was unbothered by the killing and cleaning was almost darkly comical.

  “Well, my expectation was that they did not want to kill me, just to charge me as a conspirator in my father’s case. I thought if I left they would be glad to be rid of me. I didn’t know about the bounty hunters, or wizards. I hadn’t expected I’d even need to be sharing in this level of detail about my situation.” Leif kicked at the bloodied dirt.

  “Well, I suppose I understand your hesitancy in wanting to go to Danaria at least.” Vigo then responded to Leif’s original question, “The bounty hunter had proven that he’d been willing to kill you. You’re under my protection. If there is a threat, I’m going to eliminate it. Monsters must be brutalized, shamed, and destroyed, even if those monsters happen to be human.” He paused, then, “You are my apprentice and that makes you my responsibility. The world needs wizards, but I will not be burdened by a responsibility that is of no value to me, or an apprentice that doesn’t trust me.”

  Vigo then stepped up close to Leif and grasped the front of his shirt. His voice was quiet but deep. “Don’t lie to me again.” Leif felt his throat go dry and fought the urge to swallow. He nodded. Vigo released him.

  ***

  The next night Vigo and Leif sat by a fire. Vigo had gone quiet after the attack and for most of the next day as they traveled. They’d found a small clearing surrounded by rocks and trees and a small pool. The pool was fed by a delicate waterfall pouring over a crack in the rocks. The sun just barely peeked over the top of the rock and would soon be gone. The serenity of the scene was a welcome change for Leif. He hadn’t been able to get his mind to stop replaying the violent deaths he’d witnessed.

  Vigo had disrobed and bathed in the natural basin. Leif desperately needed to do the same but a glance at Vigo’s frame had made him acutely aware of his own lanky thin limbs. Vigo’s body reminded Leif of the heroes he’d seen in paintings or grand statues. The wizard looked like he’d been the greatest work of a master sculptor. The sculptor had somehow given the statue the spark of life and named him Vigo. Leif decided to wait and bathe in the morning despite how cold it was getting.

  Leif sat by the fire warming his hands, wondering if Vigo actually planned to wait until they arrived at Danaria before beginning his instruction in earnest.

  Instead of pulling his book from his pack though, Vigo set several thick logs into the flames and stepped between the fire and the small pool. Their fire danced in his steel blue eyes as he spoke, “Everything around you, the entire world, is made up of particles of energy.”

  Leif watched him. The fire itself began to expand so Leif leaned away from the growing intensity of the heat. Vigo held his hands out before him.

  “Magic is the ability to harness and control that energy.”

  The fire swirled and snaked before him, slowly at first, then climbing higher and weaving around them. Leif sprung to his feet to fully grasp what he was witnessing and in slight concern for his own safety. The fire had become a stream of burning flame flowing through the air the way a river flows across the earth.

  “Magic is a tool of your will. As a wizard, you are the master of the world’s energy. It is yours to command and control. You can use it to create or to destroy.”

  A new movement at the corner of his vision caused Leif to turn. A swirling stream had peeled away from the cascading waterfall. Like the fire it swirled and wove itself through the air. The effect of the fire and water curving around the space was frightening and beautiful. The two weaves curved towards and around each other. Vigo wove them together into a rising cyclone over the pool. The head of each stream broke from its swirling path and the fire and water arced towards each other. A violent searing sound ripped through the clearing as the fire and water crashed together. Steam erupted from the clash.

  The fire dissipated in the air. The floating stream of water splashed down in large droplets into the pool. The glade was serene again. Vigo’s performance had burned through most of the wood in their firepit so he added more branches to keep it burning. Leif continued standing, in awe of Vigo’s ability and focused on his words.

  “There are limits, however. There are rules of nature by which we’ll always be bound.” Vigo made a show of twirling a stick between his fingers.

  “The energy we draw upon is everywhere, including within ourselves. With magic we can add strength to our bodies, speed to our movements, energy to continue when our bodies tire. Through our magic we can vastly increase our capacity for creation or violence; our impact on the world.

  “Training a wizard to know what he can do with his power does not take long with the right level of intensity, but mastery requires dedication to improvement. It begins within ourselves - training and mastery over yourself, over your body translates to power and mastery of the world around you. This is part of why we train with swords. It is an art that requires both physicality and mental acuity under stress. When you incorporate magic into that process you’re forcing your power and your control to grow. Your body, your mind, your magic, your abilities, adapt and grow in response to extreme stress. So very simply, in order to produce outsized growth, we induce extreme stress. We do this enough times that your ability to respond appropriately becomes second nature.

  “Your aim from the beginning, must be growing your own power - mastery and control over yourself and your environment. Your words, your wishes, your promises are nothing without power. Fix it in your mind, not as the end but as the path. Every achievement is another turn on the path towards excellence.

  “Perhaps the most invaluable gift that magic imbues is rarely seen or understood by non-mages. When summoned, magic brings with it a raging inferno of self-belief. The will to act and the burning knowledge that you can succeed is what has built the world. A mage in the throes of their magic will have an iron-like confidence in their power and ability.

  “Make no mistake, Leif, in many ways, we are not unlike the gods our lessers pray to.”

  The weight and grandiosity of Vigo’s words made Leif uneasy. He hadn’t embarked on this endeavor to philosophize or bolster his ego. Ultimately however, he supposed it was power he was seeking. “Are all wizards like you?”

  “No. You’re lucky.” Vigo smirked, lifting his chin.

  “Does all wizard training begin this way?” Leif asked.

  “Not for a long time. Mine did. Your path starts with me. When I feel you’re adept enough, which won’t be long, you’ll make your way to the Temple of Godfrey. Assuming you survive, you’ll be a wizard. The Guild moved away from this curriculum and eventually did away with it completely because it’s dangerous and because they could increase membership if they lowered their standards. That’s not how I do things.”

  Vigo looked candidly at Leif. “The trick you did with the bread was just that, a trick. That was a whisper of your magic you allowed to creep into the world. It’s time to bring out the rest.” Vigo leaned over and drew the thinner blade from its sheath where it had lain next to his pack. He then pulled out the sword he’d taken off the wizard a few nights earlier.

  He handed the dead wizard's blade to Leif, “Your sword is fine but this is heavier and stronger; more suited to a wizard and in particular, a wizard’s training. Let’s begin.”

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  Leif took the sword. It was heavier than he’d expected. The design was symmetrical and without ornamentation. The hilt bore a simple circular pommel and a straight rectangular cross-guard. There was enough room on the handle for a second hand if needed. The unsharpened base of the blade curved inward slightly before joining the sharpened edges. Despite the weight, it felt smooth and balanced in his grip.

  He’d always been a decent hand with his blade and he was looking forward to finally doing something. Even if he didn’t yet know what this had to do with learning magic.

  Leif felt his heart rate increase. The beats thumped in his chest. He held his blade before him, waiting for Vigo to engage.

  Vigo stepped forward. Leif followed his movement. The large man moved easily and deliberately. Vigo watched Leif - it was the observation of a teacher watching his student. Vigo tested him. He stepped to the side, then back, then closer. Leif adapted. He adjusted his footing, shifted his hips and kept his weight centered. Then swiftly, Vigo extended. To Leif’s eyes it seemed to be the smallest movement. The blade came towards Leif’s left shoulder. Leif parried Vigo’s blade away and responded. He directed his own blade back towards Vigo. He didn’t want to actually hurt the man so he aimed towards the outer edge of Vigo’s left arm. When his blade arrived Vigo wasn’t there. He was moving, and speaking. “You’re slow.”

  Leif attacked again. “Be faster,” said Vigo. Adrenaline sparked through Leif and he launched himself into an attack against the wizard.

  “Cut me, make me bleed.”

  As Leif attacked, Vigo moved. He moved in the way a stream flows around a rock. Leif was the rock. There was no effort or friction in Vigo’s movements. He’d step, and turn, and parry as if he knew well in advance Leif’s entire mode of attack. He’d swat Leif’s sword away, sometimes with his hand, with the same state of indifference as he’d brush away a gnat that deigned to fly too close. When Vigo spoke there was no indication of effort in his voice. He was simply an instructor conveying to his student. “Your magic is there, use it. Feel the energy around you and within you.”

  Not once had Leif’s blade come close to Vigo. Realizing that he was outmatched, Leif pressed the attack. Striking at Vigo’s limbs and core. Leif drew on every ounce of skill and strength he could muster.

  Vigo continued his dance. “Your magic is waiting for you. Use it. Unleash it.” Leif could feel his arms beginning to tire under the weight of the heavy, unfamiliar blade and the intensity of his attacks, but he continued. He stuck and swung towards Vigo. Anger welled up within him. He was being toyed with.

  Vigo gently began to press the attack. His blade flicked towards Leif. Leif parried and missed. He felt the flat of Vigo’s blade slide along the side of his face past his left eye. Frustration burned through Leif. He seethed and struck back. His own sword cut through nothing but air. In the heat of the duel, the thought surfaced that Vigo’s blade reminded him of a hummingbird. It snapped across Leif’s vision to counter or parry Leif’s every movement. There was no wasted effort. There was nothing Leif could do to stop him. This man was the master of the space around him. Space which included Lief.

  “There is a well inside you, overflowing.” Leif continued to attack. “There is light and energy coursing through your body. It begs you to use it.” Leif’s arms burned, his breathing was heavy and forceful. “You’ll never touch me fighting like this. You’re a bloody mage.”

  Leif circled. He lunged in and danced back. His breathing was labored and his attacks were futile. The flat of Vigo’s blade tapped his thigh, then his ribs. Leif forced his anger down and focused his thoughts on his body and movements. He didn’t know what he was supposed to feel or think or do. He continued his attacks but with each lunge he focused on the movement of his body.

  He felt nothing. Nothing but the exertion of physical effort.

  When Vigo finally stopped, it felt to Leif like they’d been dueling for an hour. His arms were heavy. His shoulders burned. His lungs drank in air the way a man dying of thirst swallows water.

  “Well,” was all Vigo said as he placed strips of dried meat in Leif’s sweating palms. He pulled out his book as Leif ate his meal and rolled over to sleep, embarrassed and disappointed.

  ***

  The next two nights they had found inns at which to stay and eat. The foot traffic on the road and the density of the towns grew the closer they came to the coast. Vigo wasn’t overly talkative on the road during the day. He told Leif that he should be practicing drawing his magic out every moment he had, then he had been in his thoughts and he spent much of his time examining the pages in his book. Leif guessed it was because of the number of people they’d seen and perhaps Vigo was concerned about running into another bounty hunter. Either that or he was angry with Leif.

  At each stop to rest during the day, and each night, Vigo and Leif dueled. Each time Leif failed to bring forth anything remotely magical. It had been such a short time yet he was beginning to doubt himself, and Vigo. Vigo had been disappointed and then was outwardly irked that Leif still hadn’t used magic, which irked Leif since he had no idea what he was doing.

  Once again, Leif stood opposite Vigo in a small glade, sword raised. “Begin.”

  Vigo stepped forward, feinted, and slapped Leif’s thigh with the flat of his blade. “Too slow.” Leif launched into an attack, stabbing his sword at Vigo’s chest and arms. “Hideous.” Anger burned through him. Vigo wasn’t helping him figure his magic out at all and the wizard was just getting angry and condescending with him. He swung his blade wildly as a feint, then moved in. He locked his hilt against Vigo’s then moved to strike Vigo’s chin with his fist. “Pathetic!” Vigo shifted his head slightly and Leif’s fist flew over his shoulder. Almost in slow motion, Leif felt how exposed he was, he felt Vigo coil his arm, then felt Vigo’s fist strike just below his sternum.

  Leif keeled over onto the ground. Small ragged breaths came but he couldn’t get enough air to his lungs. “Get up.” Vigo slapped Leif’s thighs and back with the flat of his blade. “Get up!” The slaps were not gentle. “Grow up! You’re in a battle for your life!” Leif swung his sword from the ground to block Vigo’s next slap, then pushed himself to his knees. His breath was coming back, slowly. He tried to force more air into his lungs as he pushed up to standing but Vigo stepped forward and shoved him backwards. His back bounced off a tree and he rolled to the ground. Leif didn’t wait this time. His breath had returned and fury overtook him.

  He jumped back towards Vigo and reengaged. “No good.” He fought through his own weariness and shame and felt within for anything that he could use. He felt the air in his lungs and the soreness of his muscles. He examined every inch of himself as he fought. He knew it was there, he just had to find it.

  He examined. He lunged. “Hideous.” He defended. “No good.” And he felt a spark. Deep within him. It was dormant. It was part of him. It was quiet. A sleeping force. Another limb he had never used and hadn’t known existed. He reached for it, forced it to wake.

  Leif didn’t know exactly what he was doing, or what he should be doing. He only knew there was a wellspring of energy inside of him that hadn’t been there before. No, that wasn’t right. It had always been there; he just hadn’t been aware of it. He hadn’t looked for it. He hadn’t felt it.

  Vigo pressed. He forced Leif back. “Use it!”

  Leif attacked. Vigo stepped away and flicked his sword back towards Leif’s right shoulder. Leif saw it coming but Vigo’s blade was so fast. Once again there was no way he’d catch it. And yet, something within him urged him that he could.

  In the fraction of the moment when Vigo’s sword came towards him, he felt the bursting of magic within himself. The knowledge that he could stop Vigo’s blade overcame him. He watched the razor sharp and shining sword coming towards him. It moved so slowly to his eyes, it almost made him laugh. He had finally figured it out.

  He whipped his own sword back and parried. Vigo’s blade passed harmlessly over Leif’s shoulder.

  Leif was amazed but Vigo didn’t give him time to appreciate the moment. The wizard pressed the attack. Leif saw each strike as if in slow motion. His parries became easy and fluid against Vigo’s methodical strikes. Leif swept Vigo’s blade away from his legs then blocked the next strike at his shoulder. He attempted his own attack. Vigo just smirked. The wizard parried Leif’s blade away then casually slid his own sword over Leif’s shoulder again and pressed it to his neck.

  Then Vigo stopped. He lowered his sword with a smug look on his face. “You found it.”

  “That was incredible.” Leif realized he was panting and despite the short bout, weariness weighed down on his body like a stone on his shoulders.

  Vigo gave Leif a small nod before he turned and walked back towards their firepit. “One last thing for tonight. Just for fun.” Vigo waved his hand and the fire snuffed out. “Relight the fire. Use magic.”

  Leif slumped before the small circular pit they’d made. He was sweating and his shoulders burned from the duel with Vigo. The magic had been there. It had responded to him. In that moment, he’d been more alive than he’d ever felt. “Shouldn’t we talk about what I just did first?”

  “Your power has always been there, Leif, you just called upon it for the first time. Truly sought it out and brought it forth. Now hurry up before you forget what just happened or you fall asleep.” Vigo began tapping his foot to hurry Leif along.

  Leif begrudgingly turned his attention to the firepit and took a deep inhale to calm himself. The brown and blackened branches had been alight moments before. Whisps and swirls of smoke tumbled upwards, billowing into the darkening sky.

  “Focus on the space; the branches and the heat still emanating from them. Now, recognize the energy there. There are particles, swirling, dancing. Reach out with your magic and take control of them.”

  Leif didn’t know what all that meant but he tried it. He realized he was far more committed to Vigo after what had happened during their duel. Vigo had been right. Vigo had helped him use magic. Vigo could make him into a wizard. His methods may be unexpected, and harsh, but maybe this is how wizard instruction always went.

  Leif focused on the fire pit. He saw the blackened wood, and smoke and ashes. He reached for the magic, the coiled glowing power within himself. He didn’t know exactly what he did but once he took hold of it his magic seemed to respond to his will. He reached out as Vigo had said, feeling for something within the pit. He dug into the forms before him. Deep within them he felt it. Movement. Like a buzzing sound that he knew was there but couldn’t actually hear. It was so slight but there were…things, moving. He couldn’t see them with his eyes but he knew for certain they were there.

  The magic that filled him came with an awareness of a thousand new sensations. He could feel every blade of grass, every pebble, every miniscule drop of moisture in the air, the vibration of Vigo’s chest when he breathed, and the patter of the soft breeze against each strand of his own hair

  Leif delicately, slowly, reached out with his will. His magic responded. The dancing particles became his. They were cradled in his power. He owned them wholly even as they moved on their own. He tried to focus on maintaining his flow of magic and control rather than his astonishment at what was happening.

  “Now, speed them up.”

  Leif focused. He concentrated on the movement of the particles. Gently, he willed them to accelerate. The dancing and swirling increased.

  “Faster!” Vigo urged him.

  Leif sped them up. They danced and bounced faster and faster. His awareness of them became a blur. Particles crashed against each other then raced away. The buzzing without sound intensified. Then suddenly, a small speck of flame appeared on the branch that had previously burned. It wrapped itself around the wood in a flowing embrace. Leif released the particles and watched in awe at what he’d created, and in happiness at what he’d discovered about himself.

  “Well done, Leif,” said Vigo, a smile gracing his cheeks. “That’s all for tonight.” The wizard unrolled his pack and prepared his place to sleep, then he drew a roll of salted meat from his saddlebags for dinner.

  Leif returned the friendly smile, feeling pride in his effort for the first time in days. When he rose to unroll his own pack, Leif realized just how exhausted he was. He knew he was weary from the previous nights of dueling Vigo but this was deeper. It was as if the force holding him to the earth had intensified and was pulling him by his head and shoulders and insides towards the grass. He wanted to reflect on everything he’d just learned. He wanted to test the magic within him that was so much more present than it had ever been. He wanted to ask Vigo how to shoot beams of light from his hands. He laid his head down just for a moment. As soon as he closed his eyes he slipped into sleep.