“Hard to imagine mejai being strong enough to actually pull that off, though,” Maiya said.
“That is because high rank spells consume a significant amount of prana. With enough mejai, it is possible to consume so much prana from the air that large-scale magic becomes impossible. Lower rank magics will, of course, continue to function, but strategic level spells—the spells that can decide the outcome of a battle in moments—will no longer be in play.”
Riyan looked at them appraisingly. “This strategy is not viable in only one area of the world. Do you know where?”
Maiya spoke up. “Places where magic doesn’t work at all?”
“Correct. The Voided Lands. Barren, pranaless regions on the western coast of the Known World. The land of the Pagan Order, a country that exists exclusively within the Voided Lands. Few live there by choice. Those that do are savages, living more like animals than civilized people.”
He gestured to the box before them. “Now, let us return to the lesson I planned for today. These orbs all belong to the Life Affinity. The small ones are Grade C. The large one is Grade A, and it cost me more than your entire village earns in a whole month, so do not touch it.”
The two friends eyed the orbs like they were divine treasures.
“Who made these? They’re beautiful!” Maiya said, her eyes gleaming.
“A thaumaturge out of Daha. Thaumaturges are rare magical craftsmen who etch these orbs with the inscriptions required to power various spells.”
“How does that work?” Vir asked. If he could understand the workings of orbs, then perhaps he could learn more about why he couldn’t use magic.
“No one knows,” Riyan replied. “Every thaumaturge in the world merely copies inscriptions passed down for millennia. As far as we know, every inscription we have today comes from the Age of Gods. They are gifts from the gods themselves. If someone tells you otherwise, they are either lying, or they’re Altani. Though I doubt even Altani Thaumaturges have cracked the secret, or we’d be seeing new designs flood the market.”
Vir deflated, crestfallen. If no one knew how they worked, he stood little chance of unlocking their secrets himself. Not that it’ll stop me from trying…
Their instructor continued. “The orbs you are familiar with are only of Grade D. Utility orbs. They can provide heat for cooking, cool the temperature of a small space to preserve food, lock doors, and have a myriad of other applications. In short, they are the pillars of our very society. Everyone, without exception, can use utility magic,” he said, eyeing Vir.
“We suspect utility magic was invented by the gods for the layman. Their uses vary, but they all share one trait: they are universally weak. Because they were designed to be. Orbs of D Grade consume one hundred times less prana than orbs of C Grade, which is where combat and affinity orbs begin. B Grade orbs consume ten times the prana of C. A Grade orbs consume ten times that of B.”
“Is that the highest Grade?” Maiya asked.
“For you? Yes. Few people ever even lay eyes on an A Grade orb. They are expensive and rare, and those who can wield them are even fewer still. But there is in fact one Grade higher. Technically, two.”
Vir had heard rumors of A Grade orbs that could create blizzards or summon down storms of lightning. His mind had a hard time imagining anything more powerful than that.
“S Grade orbs belong to the domain of myth and legend. I have seen more combat than most men would in several lifetimes, yet I have never once seen S Grade magic in use. Though I have read reports of tornadoes that can crumble Kin’jali walls and meteors raining from the sky with the power to wipe out entire villages.”
Vir gulped. He’d always thought of his meteor-summoning fantasy as just that: fantasy. To think a real spell existed that did exactly this… He wasn’t sure whether to jump for joy or to cower in terror. Probably the latter.
“And,” Maiya whispered. “There’s more?”
“Artifacts,” Riyan stated. “Lost magic from the Age of Gods, if you believe the stories. Each one is supposed to be unique, and apparently none of them have powers that even remotely resemble those of orbs. I say ‘apparently’ because they are objects of myth. I have never seen one in person.”
He paused and swept his gaze over his disciples.
“The Order of the Mejai Sorcar ranks its mejai according to how many orbs of a particular rank they can charge simultaneously. The more one can charge, and the higher the orb tier they can charge, the higher their title. And now, we have come to the limit of what I understand of prana. This is all I can impart to you about magic.”
“But then, how am I gonna learn?” Maiya complained.
“I may not have the skills to train you, but I know of someone who can,” he said. “Now, I have work to do. Your time is your own, but do not exert yourselves. The boy has yet to recover from his wounds.”
The Ghost of Godshollow packed up his precious orbs and retreated to his room, leaving Vir and Maiya alone in his opulent living room.
“Phew!” Maiya said. “That was a lot. I mean, it was all super interesting, but I can almost see the steam coming out of my head, y’know?” Maiya grabbed Vir’s hand. “C’mon! I found a spot nearby. Think you’re gonna like it. Oh, but let’s grab Neel first. He’d be sad if he missed out.”
She retrieved Neel from their bedroom and led them out of the abode and up to the summit of the hill that hid the house. On it was a lone, branchless tree, its many limbs gangly and gnarled.
“It isn’t as impressive as Rabbit Hill, and the tree’s not even big enough to climb, but the view’s pretty great, right?” Maiya said.
Neel predictably began running circles round the tree, as if it was the most fascinating thing in the world.
“It sure is,” Vir replied. From here, they had a three-hundred-sixty-degree view of the surrounding hills and sand dunes. Vir suspected this spot was directly on top of their bedroom, idly wondering if there was a hidden trapdoor that led up here.
Maiya lay down and stared at the beautiful orange hues of the sky. “Looks like we just missed sunset. Won’t be long now before night falls.”
Vir’s burns hadn’t quite healed yet; large movements still caused him a great deal of discomfort. He sat beside her, trying to stay as still as possible. Neel joined them, resting his belly on the warm, comfortable sand.
“So much has changed lately,” Maiya said, gazing up at the sky. “Everything’s different now. Thought we could use a spot that felt a little familiar, y’know?”
“Tell me about it. This is a wonderful find, Maiya. I like it here. We should definitely visit more often.”
“I honestly can’t believe that just a week ago, my biggest worry was baking your birthday cake.”
Vir laughed.
Maiya propped herself on an elbow. “And now I’m living with some stranger. And I can’t even go back to Mom and Dad.”
“You can. Someday. I’ll never see Rudvik again.”
Neel sat up, expectantly searching for his old master upon hearing his name.
“I’m sorry, Vir, I didn’t mean to—”
“It’s fine, Maiya. I’ve made my peace with it,” Vir said, dismissing her concerns. “I’m gonna live my life the best way I can. That’s the only way I can do justice to Father. Actually…”
“Yeah?”
“Maiya?”
“Yeah, Vir?”
“I… have something to tell you.”
“You know you can tell me anything, right?”
“I… I think I can see prana.”
Maiya bolted upright. “What!” she shouted, causing Neel to startle and bark.
Vir’s mouth went into overdrive, startled at her reaction. “Ever since our encounter in the Godshollow, I’ve been seeing these colors. Except, they’re not really colors, but I don’t know how else to describe them. Anyway, they’ve been incredibly distracting. Sometimes I can barely even stand without falling over. I’ve also been noticing patterns to them. Like, the colors inside Riyan’s body? Brown and white—and Life Affinity orbs are white!”