Gorn,

I write this letter with the trepidation of what Mages may, or already have, become. What is a Mage without the connection to one’s Art? The control your ritual of initiation may exert over the Guild’s members is what I find most worrying.

I do not impute you to abuse this control. I know you for the noble person that you are, but nobody lives forever. Not even Mages as powerful as you and me. So I wonder, will your successor hold the same values as you do? What if, someday, members need to take an oath on their Inner Landscape, forcing them to obey the orders of a single person?

What kind of power would that person wield?

A letter from Elusco to Gornatius Siti, founder of the Guild of Mages. Dated 582 a.f.

Once again, Silas got a branch thrown to his face. He managed to dodge this time though, if only barely.

“How is this magical training? I don’t even know how to control a single piece of wood!”

He kept glancing warily at Tom, in case the old man decided to throw another branch at him.

“Right! Which is why, today, you are going to learn how to do so!” Tom proclaimed, wriggling his eyebrows.

Eyes squinting, Silas shook his head.

“Then why did you… Ah, nevermind.”

Tom simply ignored Silas’ apparent lack of enthusiasm.

“To manipulate anything with your Art, you need to first establish a connection with it. To do so, concentrate on your Mage sense and try to latch on to it. If a stable connection between you and the object is established, you can use this connection to guide the energy from your Inner Landscape into the object you are trying to control.”

“The rest is simple. Simply will the object to levitate,” Tom said. Suddenly every single stick and branch in a wide circle around them started to move upwards, stopping at the height of Silas’ head.

“The more you practice, the easier it will be to split your attention between different targets. The bigger and denser your Inner Landscape, the longer you will be able to use your Art before growing tired. Any questions?” Tom asked, the dozens of branches and sticks simultaneously falling onto the grass again.

“You earlier said that by getting access to my Inner Landscape I became a User. What is the next stage then? And at what stage are you?” Silas asked his master.

“The next stage is called Wielder. To become one, every User needs to enlarge their Inner Landscape to its limit. The name of my stage is not something I will share with you since it would only raise more questions.”

“You’ll have to satisfy yourself with this.”

Suddenly, the earth below Tom started to rumble. A platform of earth separated itself from the rest of the clearing, catapulting Tom into the air. After reaching the height of the treetops around them, the platform stopped rising.

Looking down at Silas from high above, Tom simply stepped off the platform. Instead of falling, the old man gracefully floated down, the earthen platform still hanging in the air.

“Along the higher stages the use of your Arts becomes increasingly complicated, but also quite versatile,” he said, now almost having reached the ground again.

Silas’ eyes were as big as saucers. Tom now stood in front of him, his face as impassive as ever. The boy’s gaze alternated between Tom, the hole in the earth, and the platform of earth still hanging in the air, high above them.

“Creeaaak,” said Gnarly. Its gaze was focused on the platform above, one arm reaching out as if to touch it.

“Maybe the tales about Ignis are not that exaggerated, after all,” Silas said dreamily. His father had told him many such stories about the famous fire Mage, and how he had single-handedly defended the pass to the barbarians hundreds of years ago.

A snort from Tom brought Silas out of his reminiscence.

“Any fire Mage calling himself “Ignis” is a joke, if you ask me. Might as well hang paintings of yourself in your own bedroom, if you’re that far gone,” Tom said, upper lip raised.

“How can you say that? You didn’t know him,” Silas replied.

Tom opened his mouth to respond, before abruptly closing it again.

By now the earthen platform was gradually floating down, fitting perfectly into the hole it had created. Silas watched as the grass grew seemingly of its own accord and covered the upturned earth. After just a few seconds the grass looked as smooth as ever, not a single halm betraying what had just happened.

Completely ignoring Silas’ disbelieving look, Tom told Silas about his next task.

“I want you to use your Art to levitate a stick without it falling. But don’t forget to tend the garden and check the fence you do so,” Tom instructed him.

Silas sighed. Tending the gardens was not that bad if he was honest with himself. But Silas felt like he was at constant war with every rabbit in the forest. No matter how high or sturdy he made the fence, the annoying buggers would always find a way around it.

After finishing the tedious task Silas sat under his favorite tree, a stick laying in front of him. Closing his eyes, Silas opened himself to his new sight. Around him lay various pieces of wood, each one a vague outline to his new sight.

Singling one out, Silas concentrated his sense on one piece that lay in front of him. It became clearer the longer he focused, the outlines becoming more defined with each heartbeat.

Next was moving the energy from his Inner Landscape through the connection into the stick. Splitting his focus turned out to be harder than he had originally imagined, and the connection almost broke. It held on though, like a thin but durable string of silk. Eagerly, Silas shoved the white mist of his Inner Landscape into the stick. Silas opened his eyes.

“Up!” he commanded.

To his surprise, the stick shot up almost instantly. In the span of fewer than two heartbeats, the stick had already passed his head. But it soon fell down again, the connection broken as the piece of wood continued to gain altitude.

The shadows of the tree lengthened as Silas proceeded to practice with the stick. He soon found out that making the stick fly was not the hard part. Yet holding it in one place without losing focus, that was something else entirely. If he used too much energy, the stick would gain altitude, with too less it would start to fall.

Frustration rising, Silas chose to do a short break. He stared at the stick in front of him, wondering what he did wrong. It seemed impossible to guess just how much energy was needed to make it float.

But what if he did not have to guess? Concentrating on it once more, Silas tried to get a feeling for how heavy it was. Inner Landscape connected with the stick, Silas then held it into the air, willing it to stay. Balancing the weight of the stick with a steady stream of energy, Silas slowly pulled his hand away.

His heart skipped a beat when he saw it floating calmly in the air.

He had done it! Eyes wide as saucers, Silas stared at the floating stick before him. He could not stop himself from giggling. This was real magic! Enthusiasm renewed by his sudden success, he continued to practice.

However, making an object rise and then float in the air still proved to be too difficult. The intent he projected onto the stick had to be absolute, with no room for doubts. The moment he switched his mental command from up to float, the stick fell. Nevertheless, he was pleased by his success.

Leaning his back against the trunk of the tree he sat under, a slow smile spread across his lips. Eyes closed, he the stick float in front of him. With the connection established, the floating piece of wood became clear to his sight. While everything else only had vague outlines, the stick was clear, almost alight, to his newfound sight.

Satisfied with his success, Silas bathed in the midday sun. The stick continued to float while he dozed, a slight tug on the energy of his Inner Landscape.

“You certainly chose the smallest stick you could have found,” a voice interrupted his peaceful dozing.

Becoming awake in a heartbeat, Silas immediately pointed to the still-floating stick.

“Master! I managed to make the stick levitate as you told me to!” he exclaimed.

Tom harrumphed. “Marvelous. Go get your spear, it’s time we do some real sparring.”

Breaking his connection with the stick Silas got his spear from inside the cabin. Why did the old man have to be so grumpy all the time?

“Now that you have learned the basics of fighting with the spear, we can finally start with the interesting part,” Tom began. “Since the shaft of your spear is completely made of wood, it can be controlled just like the stick you levitated earlier."

"What I want you to do now is to form a connection with your weapon. Guide the energy from your Inner Landscape into the spear to empower your strikes. This will make you hit both harder and faster, while also increasing your control over the spear. Watch.”

Tom then threw a branch into the air, his spear at eye level. For less than a heartbeat, the branch stood still before falling. Like a bolt released from a crossbow, Tom’s arm shot forward. Multiple times, the old man stabbed the brach while falling, his movements so fast they left afterimages.

It ended as abruptly as it began, with dozens of small wooden pieces falling onto the grass. Reverting to his starting position, Tom looked at Silas calmly. Not a hint of exertion could be seen on him.

Propping his spear on the ground, Tom pulled the blade off his spear. Silas watched as the wood previously holding the blade formed itself into a round knob, now pointing straight at him.

“The stronger the connection and your affinity for wood, the easier it becomes to enforce your strikes. However, control is the most important part here,” he clarified. “Establish a connection with your weapon, and thrust at me.”

Seeing the impatient stare in his master’s eyes, Silas quickly connected the spear with his Inner Landscape. It was an odd experience, holding the now-familiar weapon in his hands while also perceiving it with his magical sense.

His eyes were focused on Tom’s spear as he advanced. Striking forward with a long thrust, Silas forced the energy into his weapon. The spear accelerated suddenly, surprising him with its speed.

It yanked on his shoulders, and Silas immediately lost balance. He felt the knob of Tom’s spear before he saw it, the old man’s voice droning above him as he lay on the soft grass.

“Instead of pushing the energy into your spear, you want to supply it with a steady stream. Simply will the energy to empower your strikes, instead of using the energy itself to strike. The latter will only result in you losing control. Again.”

By the time Tom called an end to their sparring, Silas could barely stand anymore. After resting for a bit, Silas stumbled towards the cabin using his spear as a third leg. Tom’s voice greeted him as he entered the cabin. The old man was bent over the table, chopping carrots as he looked at Silas.

“After lunch, we’ll practice the same thing, but with the bow instead. The aspect of control is even more important here since the slightest fluctuation will cause the arrow to shake and steer off-course,” he explained.

Despite his exhaustion and pain, Silas smiled. Every time they went out to hunt, Tom had been the one to shoot their prey. Once he had taken a shot from so far Silas had barely been able to see the deer they had been hunting. The arrow had reached the deer in an instant, hitting it straight in its heart. Now he knew how his master had managed such a shot.

Silas already imagined himself with the bow in his hands, the arrow exploding forward. Crashing into the wall of the shed, the force of it was so great the arrow went straight through the wall.

“Are you waiting for something?”

Tom’s eyebrows were raised expectantly as he looked at Silas. Had his master said something? Eyes darting from left to right, Silas took a hesitant step backward.

“Uhh… no?”

The chopping sound became louder.

“Then why are you still standing there?” Tom’s eyes stared into him.

Silas swallowed. Judging by the twitch in the old man’s right eye, his master had definitely said something. Taking another step backward, Silas glanced towards the door. By now the knife was so fast Silas could see bits of carrot flying around. Tom still stared at him.

“Did you say something, master Tometheor?” Bit by bit, Silas edged his way closer to the door of the cabin. The twitch in the old man’s eye intensified.

“Garlic. Shed. Now.”

A while later the two sat around the campfire, eating their respective bowl of stew. Gnarly sat comfortably on Silas’ shoulder, chewing on a piece of apple. Lifting his head, Tom studied Gnarly for a second.

“Besides working on your Inner Landscape, you should also get accustomed to using your Art together with Gnarly,” he told Silas. “Since it’s a creature, it naturally has access to its Inner Landscape already. Nevertheless, Gnarly needs to practice its Art just as much as you do.”

The spoon with stew stopped just short of Silas’ mouth. He had not even thought about his little friend, and whether it would need to break through as well. Concentrating on a small stick lying around the campfire, Silas tried to tell Gnarly to make the stick levitate.

A heartbeat later the stick bobbed in front of Gnarly, who let out a proud creak at having accomplished the task. Silas’ mouth hung open for a moment. On its first try?

“Seems like I have a bit of catching up to do,” Silas mumbled into his bowl.

“That is impressive indeed,” Tom observed.

Silas’ jaw clenched. It was just not fair. He had worked so hard and had gotten access to his Inner Landscape two moons before Tom’s deadline. Yet the old man had never praised him, not even once.

A soothing creak and a few pats on his ear brought Silas out of his angry thoughts. He sighed. Knowing how Gnarly had just done as he asked it to, it was hard for him to be angry at his wooden friend. Hidden behind the wooden bowl in his hands, Tom’s mouth twitched ever so slightly.

After the meal, Silas eagerly took the bow and quiver out of the cabin. But he soon had to admit that empowering his shots with his Art was even more difficult than using it on the spear.

To accomplish what Tom called an “empowered shot”, Silas had to first establish a connection with the arrow and then take aim on his target. After that, he needed to direct the energy of his Inner Landscape along the connection and into the arrow before actually releasing it.

The goal here was to empower the natural trajectory of the arrow, rather than try to push it forward.

It was not only a complex but also a very delicate process, requiring absolute control during each step. Silas always lost focus either while aiming or trying to infuse the arrow with energy. Sometimes, it simply flew forward without him releasing the string. In other instances it wobbled in mid-flight, completely missing its target.

No matter how hard he tried, he could not manage to shoot a single empowered arrow toward the shed. After yet another failed attempt he resigned himself to train with the spear instead.

Concentrating on his forms, Silas lost himself in the connection with his spear. Although he soon started to sweat, he found it to be a calming experience. Tom’s voice coming from his back eventually brought him back to reality.

“Already gave up on the empowered shot, I see?”

Turning around, Silas frowned at his master.

“It’s just too difficult! How am I supposed to split my focus like that?” he retorted.

“Don’t worry, you’ll get it eventually. I think,” Tom responded with a shrug of his shoulders. “You won’t need it for tomorrow anyway.”

His master’s gray eyes had a strange sheen to them. He looked… excited?

“What are we going to do tomorrow?” Silas asked, stepping from one foot to the other.

Tom smiled.

Gods, no. Silas immediately prepared himself to dodge another branch. Eyes wide open and smile so wide Silas could see his teeth, Tom stared into him.

“Tomorrow, we are going to hunt.”

Somehow, Silas had the impression his master was not talking about rabbits or deer.