The next morning came with a lovely bite to the air. The kind that instantly wakes you up, even better than a strong coffee. Ras had been kind enough to lend us a spare tent so we didn’t freeze overnight, not that it would have done much given our constitutions. Still, it was a kind gesture that was appreciated. What I didn’t appreciate was his teaching method as we started on the trip to their village.

  Ras was looking at me as I tried to get comfortable in a lotus position in the wagon, his staff set across his knees as he mirrored my positioning. “This will be both annoyingly familiar, and unfamiliar at the same time. I’m going to go over how our spellcasting works. You will be adept at parts of it, but woefully lacking at others. This is normal. Think of it like writing with your off hand. You know how it works in theory, we just have to train your body to work correctly.”

  “First, we have mana. Unaspected, it is produced by all living creatures. Some call it a core, some a dantian, mana heart, the nomenclature doesn’t matter. What matters is that it is what powers all spells, and that you can control it. Most visualize it located just behind and below your heart. What you should have no issue doing is sending that mana to create a sphere above your hand. Do so now.”

  I easily complied. Creating many shapes like this was second nature to me. “Good. Go ahead and stop for now, while I explain the more intricate parts of spellcasting. The unaspected portion of spellcasting skips this step, but normally the second portion of spellcasting is choosing which element to imbue into your mana. The scholars at the Ebon Scale Academy would call it something pretentious like and arcane imbuement matrix. I think they just like trying to sound smarter than they really are, and I think of it as a reverse filter. Instead of removing things, you are adding elements to your mana. The more you understand your filter, the easier and more mana you can color with it. Your problem is that you have way too many filters and no skill in choosing which one.”

  “We will work on that today, but there is one more important part of spellcasting you will need to work on. The pretentious call it the Spellcaster Optimization Matrix. I just call it your spell parameters. Watch.” He formed a small flame above his hand, one you wouldn’t be surprised to see on a lighter. “Flame. Quite possibly one of the simplest fire spells. But how you change the parameters can have drastic effects. Increase the heat?” As I watched, the flame turned a pale blue before returning. “Relax the output width?” The flame flared outward, the tip splitting and dancing in the simple breeze from Ras’ exhales. “Constrain it instead?” The flame switched from out of control dancing to a concentrated jet a few inches long. “And then we have compression.” I watched as the flame shrunk down to a sphere, yearning to break free.

  “Simple changes, drastic effects. And this is the building block for far more intricate spells. From this constrained flame, I can create the fireball spell. Compression shape, spin, launch energy. Do I create a piercing tip from a different mana aspect? Do I want it to explode and catch everything in the area on fire? Your old system did all this for you. You know the theory, but your foundations are weak. We will fix that. I’ll let you pick what we work on first. Output parameters or aspecting?”

  “Aspecting.” I immediately replied, wanting to work on what I viewed as my weakest point. From my last battle, even if I choose the wrong element it still came out in the general shape of the spell I was attempting.

  “Very well. Create your sphere of unaspected mana again. As we move, I will have you change the aspect, hold it for 5 seconds, then return to unaspected.”

  If that was all he was going to do, it would have been far too easy. What I didn’t realize was that Ras had a sadistic streak. As I started working, he slid around behind me, far too silently for someone that old had any right to move. Before he even called out a new element, the poking started. A quick jab with his staff right into my kidney.

  “Gah!” I cried out, jumping in place and losing concentration on my spell. “What the hell was that?”

  “Distractions.” He simply said. “Now, back in position. Start with whatever element you like. Keep going with that element all day.”

  I was grumbling in my mind about unexpected distractions, but still followed his directions. Not wanting to be too destructive since my concentration was also being detected, I went with light first. Less chance of me losing eyebrows or catching the wagon on fire.

  And thus the next three days of my torture began. Ras was adept at poking me at random times. And when I picked the wrong element. And when I was losing concentration. But when I started trying to anticipate when the jab would come, he added a lovely little jolt of electricity. Each punishment was justifiable, but each came with a shadow of a smile that reminded me of why I preferred dogs.

  Though I hated his methods, I had to admit that they were effective. I started out making slow progress, but as it started to become habit and muscle memory started taking over, the jolts and jabs would come quicker and quicker. Day one had each jolt causing either the element to switch or the entire spell to destabilize. It would then take me nearly a minute to get the correct element aligned again. Day two had that down to 45 seconds, but with much less element switching. That was also the first day that I got an electric shock, which caused a switch to flame and a singing of my eyebrows. Not enough to be truly noticeable, but the smell was enough to cause small grins from everyone at dinner. Even Elendria.

  It wasn’t quite noon on the third day when I started hearing cries about the village being near. My concentration completely lapsed as I felt the mood of the caravan rising rapidly. “I suppose we need to call it here.” Ras said, for once not punishing me with a staff jab. “Come. Fresh air will do you some good.”

  I followed him out, eyes widening as I took in their village. I don’t know why I expected thatched huts or something similar. Maybe a bit of latent racism, but the amount of worked metal they had in their equipment probably should have prepared me. Instead of a poor, third world village I was looking at a walled town. The walls looked to be about ten meters tall, slightly angled and with crenellations. Solid looking, they were made of regularly cut stone. Guard towers every so often, with a pair flanking a recessed gate made the approach imposing, especially considering the amount of open ground we had to cross with absolutely zero cover.

  Oddly, there was no line waiting to enter, but several guards ran out in a loping gate to greet the caravan. To my surprise, they were more canine in appearance, built and colored like a German Pinscher. Most greeted the first few wagons, falling into a guarding pattern while one that was starting to get a bit of grey around his muzzle headed our way.

  “How goes the trading Ras? Find anything good?” he called out as he got closer, though his eyes narrowed and his nose twitched as he tried getting my scent. “And who is this human who doesn’t smell exactly human?” There was a distinct warning growl in his last sentence.

  “Outworlder with the same grudge as us old friend.” Ras answered softly. “Less said out here the better.” I could tell he wasn’t happy with that answer, but still went along with it. Just when I thought we would be entering the city without any more drama, my hopes were dashed. Arms crossed and toe tapping, she was glaring at each wagon that passed, dismissing them after a quick once over. Her hair was a black Mohawk, her fur was a light brown with shades of red, and black spots covering her arms. Her gaze locked on me, and she gave a very toothy grin before hopping up onto the seat beside Ras.

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  “Ras, dear. Why did you not send a runner ahead to warn me about someone who was so injured?” While her tone was calm and level, I could see the fur on Ras fluff out in fear.

  “Rehema, I don’t know what you are talking about. Sean here isn’t that badly injured.”

  “So I’m wrong?” She asked him, then looked at me. Every sense I had screamed danger, and that there was no way out of this.

  “That’s not what I said.” Ras stammered as we entered through the portcullis. All thought of helping him out of whatever situation he had gotten himself into fled as I looked at the immaculate city before me. The streets were paved stone with gutters, laid out in a perfect grid pattern and wide enough for two wagons to pass side by side, with a little extra for a sidewalk on each side. Each building was three stories of the same stone the road and walls were made of, but painted in vibrant geometric patterns. Flat roofs made of timber covered each building, but the strangest things were the windows. The glass all had a faint yellowish tinge to it. Each building had a sign with writing and pictures on it, and there seemed to be a competition on who could make the most colorful sign.

  The people of the city matched the riot of colors on the buildings. Humanoid mammals of all types went about their day, though most did give a nod of recognition to people in the caravan. We only went a few streets into the city before turning off the main thoroughfare, heading to an area that had less pavement and more packed dirt roads, along with several large what I assumed were warehouses as they had very few windows and all were at the upper ends of the buildings.

  “And what do you have to say about that Sean?” A gentle thwack on my arm brought me back to the conversation between Ras and the hyena lady.

  “Huh? Say about what?”

  “Men.” She huffed, sitting back with her arms crossed. I really hoped I didn’t just undo whatever magic Ras had wrought to calm her down.

  “Sorry, I’ve never been to a city like this.” I said as we entered one of the warehouses. The caravan was a model of efficiency as wagons were parked and unloaded. Elendria appeared at my side like a wraith, getting a slight jump out of me.

  “No matter.” Rehema waved my explanation off. “What I really need to know is how badly you are injured. I can sense the destructive energy in it, though where it is.” She trailed off, studying me as I didn’t show any signs of impaired movement.

  “Maybe we should get to that quieter place and get the whole story?” The guard asked, looking at Ras when he spoke.

  “Much as I dislike agreeing with Ritter just on principle, he might have finally dug up a point.” Rehema said, getting a growl out of the guard. Ritter I guess.

  “Fair enough. We have a lot to talk about and it’ll be easier to get it all out at once.” He made a waving motion with his staff as he got down, and we followed him out of the warehouse and down the street. Rehema kept throwing glances at me, ones that kept getting a bit more annoyed as she started switching to Elendria beside me. I mentally shook my head, not wanting to get in the middle of whatever silent communication was going on between those two. I didn’t need to be a fortune teller to realize that all those routes ended up with me in a much worse position.

  Instead of doing that, I simply followed in silence as we went deeper into the warehouse district. After several streets, we came out to an area that was obviously family housing as opposed to the main street and its competitive stores. The designs were still there, though the colors tended towards the calming blue and green end of the spectrum. The laughter of kids filled the air, making me miss Isabelle. Eventually we came to a long hall style house that had no decorations whatsoever. We went through several halls to come to a plain meeting room, though this one had a couch in one corner in addition to the table.

  Rehema immediately turned to me. “Show me the injuries. Talk while I examine them.” And so I pulled out my wings, wincing in pain as they materialized and started our tale. How I was a Chosen, how I had eaten a dragon heart, coming here through the portal and fighting the guardian. Elendria remained silent, watching everything Rehema was doing to my wings while I answered questions.

  “And you say this was from the guardian?”

  “Yes.” I said, hissing as she did something. “Do you know why it isn’t healing?”

  “That’s the easy part. Because you haven’t done anything about the energy trying to eat through you.” She answered.

  “Wouldn’t my healing naturally fight it?” I asked.

  “Is he always this dense?” She asked Elendria.

  “He has his moments.” She answered.

  “Anyway, your healing does nothing to fight the energy trying to destroy you. It just tries to heal.”

  “But wouldn’t the energy eventually dissipate?” I asked. “I mean, healing takes energy as well. Shouldn’t they, I dunno. Cancel out or something?”

  “If the energies clashed, yes. That would work. But this spell is insidious. Figures it came from that damnable snake. It lets your body heal a bit, then it destroys the new tissue. Or whatever your wings are actually made from. Then it retreats a bit and draws in ambient mana to recharge itself. So unless you actually take the fight to it and overwhelm it in one go, it will keep coming back. Eventually your wings will grow scar tissue, and it will probably be happy with crippled wings. I didn’t realize it earlier, but I was actually sensing the malice inside the spell, not the destructive energies.”

  “So all I have to do is overwhelm it?” I asked.

  “Yes. But it will take a lot more than what you are thinking. I’ve tried attacking a small portion, and the response is troubling. It immediately counterattacks while a portion withdraws and starts drawing in ambient mana.”

  “Not all the portions are connected.” Elendria pointed out. “Instead of overwhelming everything in one go, which you think impossible, why not completely clear areas?”

  “Worth a try.” Rehema shrugged. “Here, start with this part.” She pulled a portion of my wing in front of me, and I saw three of the silver strands had gotten tangled together, and the red energy was preventing them from straightening out.

  “Like this?” I asked, pooling some energy into my palm and reaching towards the wing.

  “Seriously?” She groaned, then thumped me on the forehead. “What has that useless Ras been teaching you? If you do it that way, you’ll drive the energy deeper into the wing itself. Flow your mana through the wing and flood it from that direction.”

  Properly chastised, I followed her directions. Since I never really imagined my wings sending out mana before, I thought for a half second that it would be a lot harder than it really was. I guess because of their ethereal nature that their mana conductivity was high. The energies collided, and searing agony shot through me as several spikes of the red energy pierced through the shield of mana I had tried to create and immediately started branching out inside my wings.

  It had been a very long time since a spike of foul magic had infiltrated my body. All the way back to when I was first summoned and had that slave collar slapped on me. Removing that was a cakewalk compared to trying to pin down a spell that was actively trying to avoid being captured. One that would never succumb to attrition as I could sense part of it rapidly draining the ambient mana. Rather than finesse, I decided that brute force was the way to go. A massive wall of mana formed at the base of the strands, empowered by a bit of spirit. It rolled down like a tsunami, crushing and expelling everything in its wake, further shredding the ends that the energy had managed to dig into.

  “Not the cleanest removal, but it at least prevented it from scarring.” Rehema commented in a dry voice.

  “So.” I panted a few times, trying to fight through the agony. “What’s the plan Ras?”

  “Train through the winter here, then head out to do whatever you were planning on doing. Rehema, you ok with helping with the wings? Ritter, any objections?”

  “Any foe of the snake is a friend of mine.” Ritter growled.

  “I can oversee the healing. But only if we do a section once every three days.”

  Ras was nodding along when I interrupted, “Sorry, what do you mean the whole winter? How long is that going to take? I only have a year to get this done.”

  “Why would that matter?” Ras asked. “It’s not like a month of training is going to set you back.”

  I looked at him like he had grown a second head. “A month?”

  “Yeah. Winter is fairly quick here. Usually only one big snowstorm or two. Month, month and a half tops. Then the caravan can head out again.”

  “You would travel with us?” Elendria asked.

  “You’ll need the cover.” Ritter answered. “Just don’t attack anyone in the city the caravan is in. Either have him carry you or whatever, but do nothing that draws attention to the caravan.”

  With that plan in place, training began in earnest. Two days of solid spellwork with Ras. Every third day started with a morning of meditation to prepare, then a painful afternoon with Rehema supervising. It was a constant battle, as the spell learned the more I managed to dislodge. At the first sign of a mana surge, it would drill in to my poor, abused wings. So I got faster at charging the wall. Then it started condensing down to weather the flood. So I had to set up secondary surges. Other parts tried to combine, and Elendria would create ice walls to keep them separate. It was a constant arms race, one I was determined to win.