Yrael, the Eighth Bright Shiner (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
mogget_cat) wrote2006-08-24 12:52 am
mogget_cat) wrote2006-08-24 12:52 am
OOM: In Chassel
Jonarin kept up with the older Charter Mage as best he could. Ten years old and apprenticed now for nearly a year already, he mostly functioned as an assistant, when not simply instructed to stay out of the way.
But this was exciting! In the last twenty years or so, since the King had taken the throne, things had quietened down terribly. Nothing ever interesting happened, any more, it seemed. But today at sunset, Jonarin had been interrupted in sweeping the doorstep by one of the local men. The man had hurried up to him, saying something had happened to three of the other Charter Mages of the town. Someone coming along the road had caused an altercation of some sort, and, as the Mages were most often used as mediators in arguments between townspeople, they had been sent for.
The three Charter Mages who were easiest to be found had come and... the man had been uncertain exactly what had happened next. The Mages had yelled for the people to get away from the traveller, and had tried quickly to throw Charter spells of binding at it, but they had no effect. The townspeople were trying to get out of the way of the spells, heading for the gate, but the traveller somehow... and at this part of the man's story Jonarin starting thinking the man was embellishing the story a bit too much for even a ten-year-old to believe... the traveller had blurred and somehow was between the Charter Mages and the gates to the town, blocking their retreat.
The man had been trying to get out of the way, himself, at the time, but had seen how the traveller seemed to stay just short of contact with any of the Mages. He would get close enough to make them stumble back a few steps, yes, but not ever touching. The traveller, the man said, moved so fast the Mages never hit him with the spells they cast. Sometimes the spells would come so close as to seem to pass right through the traveller, but they would never hit.
As he rushed along after the Charter Mage, towards the gate, Jonarin wondered about what the local man had said, about how the traveller almost seemed to drive the three Charter Mages farther away from the gates and into the surrounding woods, making them step back or stumble with every movement: like a sheepdog with sheep, or a cat playing with cornered mice, the man had said.
Who acts like that? Jonarin had thought to himself, shaking his head.
Jonarin had quickly told the Mage he was apprenticed to, and the Mage had immediately headed out the door, a tense, closed look upon his face.
Jonarin wasn't about to miss whatever happened, if he had anything to say about it.
But this was exciting! In the last twenty years or so, since the King had taken the throne, things had quietened down terribly. Nothing ever interesting happened, any more, it seemed. But today at sunset, Jonarin had been interrupted in sweeping the doorstep by one of the local men. The man had hurried up to him, saying something had happened to three of the other Charter Mages of the town. Someone coming along the road had caused an altercation of some sort, and, as the Mages were most often used as mediators in arguments between townspeople, they had been sent for.
The three Charter Mages who were easiest to be found had come and... the man had been uncertain exactly what had happened next. The Mages had yelled for the people to get away from the traveller, and had tried quickly to throw Charter spells of binding at it, but they had no effect. The townspeople were trying to get out of the way of the spells, heading for the gate, but the traveller somehow... and at this part of the man's story Jonarin starting thinking the man was embellishing the story a bit too much for even a ten-year-old to believe... the traveller had blurred and somehow was between the Charter Mages and the gates to the town, blocking their retreat.
The man had been trying to get out of the way, himself, at the time, but had seen how the traveller seemed to stay just short of contact with any of the Mages. He would get close enough to make them stumble back a few steps, yes, but not ever touching. The traveller, the man said, moved so fast the Mages never hit him with the spells they cast. Sometimes the spells would come so close as to seem to pass right through the traveller, but they would never hit.
As he rushed along after the Charter Mage, towards the gate, Jonarin wondered about what the local man had said, about how the traveller almost seemed to drive the three Charter Mages farther away from the gates and into the surrounding woods, making them step back or stumble with every movement: like a sheepdog with sheep, or a cat playing with cornered mice, the man had said.
Who acts like that? Jonarin had thought to himself, shaking his head.
Jonarin had quickly told the Mage he was apprenticed to, and the Mage had immediately headed out the door, a tense, closed look upon his face.
Jonarin wasn't about to miss whatever happened, if he had anything to say about it.