Pressure

[Zook Murnig]

The sky's voice whipped around him, swept him up in its capricious storm. "Chaim," it spoke, not breathily, but as breath itself. "Not Chaim, sorcerer."

It had been a mistake, he realized, to use the title. "Caduceus, then, O Queen," replied the magician, calling out to the very air about him, clinging to the defense he knew would fall. "Caduceus Grimaldi."

A laugh crowed in the clouds surrounding him, pressing in unendingly. Their cold, biting breezes seeped into him, cutting deep. "Nay. Caduceus, neither. More lies." The sylph's amusement echoed hollowly from every direction, causing the Canaanite to keep his eyes moving, searching for its source.

He breathed deeply, letting down the barrier he had held for eleven years. In that time, he had not spoken that name, been called that name. It was tradition, that a Sinai never give his birth name outside the community. "Cohen. Cohen Ephraim," he shouted, and immediately regretted it as he felt the pressure of her form against his vulnerable back.

"Truth, Cohen Ephraim," she whispered in his ear, nibbling at it with knives. Each syllable perfectly formed, perfectly pronounced, perfectly controlled and controlling. He flinched at the Air Queen's intimacy, and felt her mastery taking him, taking from him. "I would have granted your wish, caller, had you not lied to me. For your dishonesty, you will pay, and prove your worth to me."

"What is your desire, O Queen?" The words dried his throat as they formed, his voice becoming ragged and hoarse under her influence.

"Kellon," was Paralda's reply.

[Atzar]

Cocky, they say. My mouth was as dry as the deserts of Fallien, my hands as clammy as linens after a nightmare.

Reckless. A tornado raged in my head, scattering thoughts a thousand different ways. Say something! they screamed, but afraid that the words I spoke might be the ones to forever lock me out, I couldn’t utter a sound.

Arrogant. I stood in awe of the tall, well-built man before me. His short, snowy beard and hair betrayed his age, yet he carried himself as if he were in his prime. He wore a robe of the purest white, and his power radiated from him like heat from the sun. This man was akin to a God, and I a lowly mortal. It didn’t help, of course, that his jaundiced gaze matched me to a rat scurrying underfoot.

“Well, boy? Speak!” he commanded with no preamble. He didn’t need one; I knew exactly who he was. I had, after all, sought him out at his estate some distance from Radasanth. Even now we stood in the shadow of his home. The place was large, and the quality of the façade’s stonework stated louder than words that the owner had spent a large sum of money on it.

“L-Lord Levis.” The words sounded cracked and unclear to my ears, so I tried them again. “Lord Levis. I wish to learn from you.” Chancing a glance at his fierce, unrelenting stare, I quickly amended that. “If you’ll accept me, of course.” What a weakling I was.

For an eon his green eyes bored into me. I stood uncertainly, awaiting his judgment, growing more convinced with each passing second that it would be accompanied by lightning – or perhaps some ethereal energy beyond my ken. Imagine my surprise, then, when he responded with laughter. The low, quiet sound was a sharp contrast to his strong, authoritative voice.

“Lord Levis,” he repeated my words, still chuckling. “How delightful. Lord, indeed.” He stepped aside and waved one hand to beckon me into his home. “Come in, come in. I suppose I have time enough to dissuade you of these foolish illusions.” Trembling slightly, I did as I was bidden, and he quickly ushered me into the abode. He followed me in and closed the door behind him. “Lord Levis, indeed,” he chortled one more time.

He led me to his library. Emboldened by the simple fact that I had not yet been reduced to cinders, I licked my lips and appraised the interior of the big room. It was about what I’d expect from a wizard’s home, even one as famous as Levis. Books and scrolls were everywhere. They overflowed from tall shelves, piled high on wooden desks and even spread over much of the polished granite floor. Halfway up the high stone walls rested six simple bronze sconces, and each bore a wax candle that burned bright enough to banish all but the darkest of shadows.

“Sit.” Levis pointed to a chair amidst the maze of paper. As I picked my way toward it, the sturdy old wizard crossed the room and stopped behind the only desk in the room that was free of books. Ignoring his own chair, he merely leaned forward on his fists. His imposing stare returned, reading me, judging me. “Do you know why I live out here, boy?” When I shook my head wordlessly, he continued. “Radasanth is a fair place - there are certainly many worse cities in the world, at any rate. It has anything a man could possibly need or want. So why wouldn’t I simply live in the city, so that these conveniences would be that much closer to hand?” His eyes narrowed. “The reason is people like you."

Any comfort I had begun to feel in his presence was immediately dashed away by that statement.

“Radasanth is full of people like you. You can produce a few modest arcane acts, so you fancy yourself a true wizard. So you proclaim yourself a student of magic to all who lend an ear, and you practice, and you study, and in the course of your studies you happen upon my name. ‘Oh,’ you say, ‘but what better way to further my abilities than to apprentice myself to such a powerful individual?’ If I lived in Radasanth, there would be a line outside my door day and night.”

I could feel my cheeks burning at the blatant insults. “But I’m not like the others!” I flared. He may have been a powerful wizard, but I wouldn’t stand for disrespect.

His stare twisted into a sneer as he saw his remarks hit home. “But you are, and your response is proof! Nearly all of you make that claim. ‘But I’m different,’ you all say. Ironic, I think, that your desire to stand out is what makes you the same.”

I stood up, clenching my fists in anger. “Let me prove it, then.”

He laughed at that, not out of mirth, but rather derision. “Prove it? Boy, what could you possibly do to convince me that you’re a worthy apprentice? I have no need for an underling. I have no desire for one. It would simply be a burden, an imposition.”

If he was trying to goad me, it was working. “I’ll fight you to prove my ability.” I hissed the words between clenched teeth. I knew that he would likely eradicate me, but I no longer cared.

But to my surprise, his expression changed. The jeering, contemptuous sneer disappeared, giving way to a peculiar mix of amusement and exasperation. “If you pitted your skill against mine you’d be but a twig in a forest fire.” He sighed. “Does your pride mean so much to you, boy? Do you seek me to prove yourself, or to better yourself?”

Still offended, I opened my mouth to respond, but something stopped me. Perhaps it was the sudden honesty after his mockery. This was a serious question, not an insult. Do I seek to prove myself, or better myself? I turned the words over in my head. At first, they felt similar, but as I dwelled on them I began to perceive the true difference. To prove myself would be to increase my standing in the eyes of others; to better myself would be increase my standing in my own eyes.

It was as if Levis could hear the gears grinding in my head, because at that moment he spoke again. “You intrigue me, boy,” he said. His voice was quiet now, no longer forceful and confrontational. “Perhaps you aren’t merely the next in a line of ambitious idiots.”

My heart leapt at first, and then plummeted as I recalled my last challenge. “You’ll fight me, then?” I asked, my skin going cold.

Admittedly I was relieved when he shook his head. “No, no. My guidance would do a corpse no good. Besides, I have little interest in how powerful you are now. I seek knowledge of other, more important factors. How intelligent are you? How well do you learn? How creative are you with the power you have now? And thankfully, I know of a perfect way to test these things, to see if you are worthy of inheriting my knowledge and aid.”

He stood up straight then and fixed me with a commanding eye. “In Radasanth, there is an establishment known as the Citadel. It is a place of wonders, a place that allows fighters to spar with one another in any environment imaginable – but most importantly, the monks there have the ability to wake you from the dead and heal your wounds, no matter your fate. We will travel there at once, where I will witness your prowess in battle! And if your pride in it is so great that it led you to challenge me, then it must be an amazing thing to witness indeed!”