Living Words

The house that loomed before him wasn’t really threatening. It was in the middle of the prosperous, bustling town, with cheerful paint and a garden that was greener and healthier than any Guylian and Justain had passed on their journey through town. The windows were washed, with homey, colorful curtains showing through the glass. The porch was sturdy and didn’t shake under their weight, and really, Guylian shouldn’t be fighting back panic at the prospect of using the polished brass doorknocker.

Justain had no patience for him though, and Guylian’s fingers gripped the strap of his bag tighter as Justain knocked loudly, three times. Guylian ducked his head to study the tops of his shoes, worn and flecked with mud from the journey. If he wasn’t looking up, he didn’t have to see Justain’s scowl or the face of the man who might possibly become his new teacher.

Might possibly, but wouldn’t if Guylian screwed up. Justain sighed impatiently, and Guylian noted the irregular flecking the mud had made when it had been flicked around by the laces of his boots. Justain reached for the knocker again, mumbling something derogatory under his breath.

The door opened before he could actually knock again, and Guylian made the mistake of looking up to watch Justain’s hand fall back to his side. Hastily, he looked back down, but not before he managed to get an eyeful of the beautiful young man who answered the door.

"About time," Justain barked, stepping forward and into the house. Guylian blushed furiously - surely this couldn’t be the mage he was supposed to learn from. He was young, nearly as young as Guylian if appearances were anything to go by.

"Good to see you too, Justain."

Guylian snuck another look, unsurprised but unnerved all the same to find the mage’s eyes on him.

"Come on, inside," the mage coaxed. "Before the pixies get out."

"Pixies?" Guylian asked, startled but stepping forward just the same. "Pixies don’t exist."

"Hmm." The mage winked, shutting the door behind Guylian. He didn’t elaborate, and Guylian glanced around, half-wondering if this mage was insane.

"Justain, get out of my kitchen!"

Guylian watched, completely at a loss as the young mage wandered away. He disappeared into the room at the end of the hallway, skirting a heavy wooden table that jutted out into the hallway dangerously. Guylian frowned fretfully, wondering if he should follow – but no, he hadn’t been told to, and the mage had made no indication he should do anything but not stand outside.

"It was a long trip," Justain grumbled, entering the hallway again with a thick chunk of bread in one hand and a goblet of dark wine in the other. Guylian straightened, trying to look inconspicuous and probably failing miserably.

"Long enough you couldn’t send me a note saying you were coming?" The mage asked, nudging Justain out of the way. He gave Guylian a thoughtful look and Guylian resisted the urge to fidget, half-sure there was something he was supposed to have done that he hadn’t.

"Is he your apprentice, Justain?" The question was gentler than Guylian had expected it to be, but was plenty enough to make his shoulders tense even more.

"Yes," Justain snarled, and Guylian dropped his gaze to the pretty hardwood floor he was standing on. He couldn’t apprentice with this mage; he’d spill something or put a scratch in the lovely furniture or floors or worse, kill the garden.

"You don’t have an apprentice now, do you Macati?" Justain asked, his intent obvious in his voice and Guylian wanted to melt into the pretty hardwood floors in shame. Macati wouldn’t want an apprentice who couldn’t learn from Justain, one of the masters of the kingdom.

"You…" Macati began, but trailed off, and Guylian could feel the weight of his gaze. "You’re staying the night, at least. I’ll set you up in the work room."

"I planned to start back tonight," Justain replied, in that tone of voice that brooked no argument.

"Hah," Macati scoffed, and Guylian glanced up, startled. Justain and Macati were staring at each other unwaveringly. "It’s three day’s travel to get here. I think you can spend one evening in a real bed before heading back."

Justain’s eyes narrowed… but then he sighed, waving his hand dismissively. "Fine."

Guylian stared. Justain never backed down. On anything.

"Guylian, go with him and make sure things are set up properly," Justain ordered grumpily, taking a heavy sip of his wine.

Guylian flushed as Macati focused on him again, tamping down on the urge to run outside and give up on this "becoming a proper mage" business.

"Upstairs," Macati directed, gesturing for Guylian to precede him. Guylian nodded clumsily, his fingers clenching another increment tighter about the strap of the bag he carried. The stairs were also beautiful; hardwood that matched the hallway floor, polished to a shine that gleamed under the sunlight streaming through the windows that climbed the wall with the stairs.

The second floor turned out to be one large room – the work room, as Macati had called it. It smelled of pine and burnt wood, and the ceiling sloped up with the roof, peaking lengthwise over a long worktable. There were windows set into the ceiling, illuminating the entire room, and bookcases that lined the short span of wall that existed before the ceiling started slanting up.

Macati laughed quietly, and Guylian blushed, stumbling into the room further to let Macati finish his climb. Macati stepped up, giving him a gentle smile that only made him blush more. Glancing around the room again for something to look at other than Macati, Guylian jumped when Macati whistled softly.

And then he had to duck, as something small and glittering fell out of one of the roof windows, and then flew straight at him. Straightening carefully, Guylian tried to calm his heartbeat as he stared at the small, winged, and still glittering creature perched on Macati’s hand.

It looked exactly how any child’s book would depict a pixie.

Guylian stared in disbelief, taking a step closer thoughtlessly. Pixies were completely mythical creatures. The closest things to them were faeries, but faeries were the size of a small baby, not as large as a dangerously pretty mage’s fist.

Macati tilted the creature towards him invitingly, and Guylian hesitated. He was being stupid and rude. It wasn’t real though, Guylian realized after a second. The foot was unraveling, back into ash and some sort of plant material.

"Can’t let the pixies out," Macati said lightly, giving the construct a boost into the air. It flew back over to one of the windows in the roof, pressing its tiny hand against the glass.

"How practiced are you at magic?" Macati asked, crossing the room swiftly to the table. He started shutting ingredient boxes and spellbooks, sending dust into the air to sparkle in the beams of sunlight shining through the roof.

"Um," Guylian managed, but didn’t know how to answer that. Though it would help if he could figure out whether staying with Macati would be better than staying with Justain.

"How long have you been with Justain?" Macati asked, stacking books together efficiently. He glanced over at Guylian curiously, not looking annoyed or malicious as he carried a stack of books over to a plush armchair, shoved into the corner between two bookshelves.

"Two months," Guylian replied quietly, his shoulders sagging. Only two months, and Justain was already desperate to get rid of him. Macati let out an impressed whistle, and Guylian flushed, wondering how much more wretched this could get. He’d tried his best to please Justain, but he seemed to be unable to do anything right.

"Can you do growing spells?" Macati asked, and Guylian nodded. He wasn’t an idiot, and anyone who could read could do growing spells. "Good. Pillows? I have a spell…" Macati trailed off, looking thoughtfully around the room. "Plant base, so green bookshelf…" He wandered towards the opposite end of the room, and Guylian blinked, noticing the different colors on the bookshelves for the first time.

Blue would be for water-based spells, green for plant… gray for either air or metal, the red for fire, of course –

"Here," Macati announced, shoving a spellbook at him. Guylian jumped, startled, accepting the spellbook without thinking about it. "Just read it, you’ll get pillows."

Guylian nodded dumbly, glancing down at the page. The spell was written out in thin, spidery script, on a page that had obviously seen better days. It was a plant-based spell… Guylian read through the spell quickly, easily translating the ancient Civomic in his head. It would work, but he could cut out that extra phrase… and it would be cleaner if it were all in one tense – and Macati was watching him, probably waiting to see what he could do.

Beginning the chant slowly, Guylian took care to pronounce the strange syllables properly. He debated for half a second leaving the spell the way it was – it would work – but in the end he gave into the part of him that insisted on doing it properly, the way the original spell casters would’ve done it.

The pillows grew from one of the ivy plants that ran along the tops of the bookcases, and Guylian finished the spell quietly, glancing up to see thick, fluffy pillows drooping from four spots. Macati was watching him speculatively, and Guylian blushed, shutting the book carefully.

"Do you do that often?" Macati asked. Guylian shrugged, wishing he’d just left the stupid spell alone. Or that he had managed to keep Justain from trying to get rid of him. Hunching his shoulders a little, Guylian wondered how much effort it would take to make himself part of the floor.

Macati made a thoughtful noise, but didn’t push it. Instead, he turned back to the table and started chanting himself. Guylian listened intently, quickly translating what he could catch as the table transformed itself into a wide bed. Curious, he wouldn’t have thought to use "fergaso" as an adjective –

"Fetch the pillows, would you?" Macati asked, straightening the sheets that now covered the table-turned-bed. Guylian nodded, moving to collect the pillows. They were soft and fluffy, and Guylian happily hid behind the armful as he carried them over to the bed. But then he had to let them go, and Guylian regretfully noted that he was much closer to Macati now.

Macati smiled encouragingly at him, sitting down heavily on the bed and flipping through his book carelessly. "Aren’t you curious about the pixies?"

Guylian startled, having forgotten about the constructs. Macati whistled, and three of them flew down from the ceiling. They really were ingenious, lovely little creatures. Guylian stepped closer, again attracted to the fascinating creatures, and then there was nothing else to do but fully approach Macati or look even stupider by hanging back.

"They’re nice," Guylian murmured, his eyes steadfastly trained on the pixie on Macati’s shoulder.

"But?" Macati asked teasingly, a flick of his fingers sending a pixie flying towards him.

"But they’re not real," Guylian replied quietly, relaxing his grip on his bag to hold out his hand to the pixie construct. It landed daintily on his fingers, tilting an exquisitely expression-filled face towards him.

Macati laughed – a light, happy noise – and Guylian snapped a startled, guilty look at him as the pixies around him took flight.

"What makes you say that?" Macati asked, his tone almost playful and Guylian looked away, focusing on the pixie still perched lightly on his hand. It was fluttering its wings, looking poised to take off like its fellows had.

"You’re right, of course," Macati continued when Guylian couldn’t find the right words to reply with. "What gave it away?"

"Pixies don’t exist," Guylian replied, earning an affronted look from the construct. Really, the level of detail was amazing. Guylian wondered for a moment if he would ever be able to duplicate this work.

Definitely not, seeing as he couldn’t manage to keep an apprenticeship for more than two months.

"Anything besides that?" Macati asked shrewdly, watching him curiously. Guylian glanced up, his eyes landing on the fraying pixie. A bit more of its foot was spotting gray and green, and more dust, with less sparkle, leaked from it than from the other pixies.

"Oh." Macati stood suddenly, startling Guylian into taking a step back and the pixie on his hand into flight again. Whistling softly, Macati held out his hands to the fraying pixie, smiling ruefully as it landed awkwardly on one foot.

"I knew I shouldn’t have rushed that last one," Macati said, giving Guylian a wink. Guylian blushed, his curiosity about the pixies growing. Ash wasn’t a normal base for animated constructs.

"Here, hold this for me," Macati instructed, holding out the pixie. Guylian hastily lifted his hands, his blush intensifying when Macati’s fingers brushed his. Macati left him with the fraying pixie, crossing the room to pull another spellbook out of the stacks he’d moved from the table. "Now where…" he mumbled, flipping through the dark blue book quickly.

"All right, Guylian," Macati began, and Guylian nearly dropped the pixie as his name fell from Macati’s lips. "Can you tell me what the base is?"

Guylian frowned, ducking his head to study the pixie. Two bases, like he’d thought earlier – plant and ash. But Macati had asked about the base, as though there was only one.

"Plant…" Guylian offered, trailing off. Macati nodded, but waited expectantly. "…and ash?"

"Exactly!" Macati declared happily, causing the pixie to ruffle its wings agitatedly. Guylian blushed, ducking his head to stare at the pixie again.

"Would you like to see the spell I used to make them?" Macati offered, and Guylian nodded quickly before he could talk himself out of it. Macati smiled happily, tilting the book towards him.

An elegant facsimile of a faceless pixie stared up from the left page, and the words of the spell were drawn in a beautiful script across the right. Guylian frowned, unnerved by the picture. Why didn’t it have a face?

"Creepy, isn’t it?" Macati made a face, and Guylian nodded wordlessly in agreement. He much preferred the version he was holding.

"One of my previous apprentices was more interested in scribing than in learning magic," Macati explained, tilting the book so Guylian could better see it. "I’ve adapted the spell a little," Macati ran his fingers down the margins of the spell side of the book, over the cramped scribbles jotted down in the free space.

"See here – nium instead of niax, to give more shape to the brow," Macati explained, and Guylian nodded; it made more sense grammatically too. "And this section to form the mouth. If you look, it even opens."

Guylian blinked curiously at the pixie, who obediently opened its mouth. Guylian smiled faintly at the lack of teeth, wondering how much work Macati had put into this spell. Macati smiled brilliantly, touching his fingers to the top of the pixie’s head.

"I still haven’t figured out the hair," he confided, and Guylian nodded, wondering how Macati had managed eyes. The pixie’s gaze followed Macati’s hand as he retracted it, and Guylian desperately wished that Macati had been his first teacher, and that he wasn’t going to mess this up as badly as he’d messed things up with Justain.

"So what do you think I did wrong?" Macati asked, flipping the page and displaying the next two pages of neat, elegant script offset by cramped scribbles in the margins. Guylian shrugged, looking away. It was a complicated spell, and he’d only been officially apprenticed for two months. There was no way he should know what Macati had done wrong.

Macati started to say something more, his eyes fixed on Guylian curiously, but heavy footsteps sounded on the stairs. Guylian jumped, nearly dropping the pixie as Justain came into view. He gave the pixie Guylian was holding a dark look before scowling at Macati.

"Your kitchen tried to attack me," Justain announced stiffly, looking extremely displeased. There was a smoldering burn on the shoulder of his vest. "And I don’t know what you did, but I can’t break it."

Macati laughed, setting the book down on the bed next to him. "All right, all right. I’ll feed you, as long as you promise not to eat me out of house and home this time."

Justain snorted, crossing his arms over his massive chest and giving Macati another dark look. Guylian set the pixie down on the bed next to the spellbook, earning a sad look and a rustle of wings from the construct.

"Are you hungry, Guylian?" Macati asked, smiling gently at him. Guylian shrugged, rubbing his fingers together to try and get the sparkling dust off. "You can stay up here and look at the spell more, if you like."

"I – yes," Guylian agreed, not looking at Justain and really only looking at Macati’s hands because he couldn’t bring himself to look higher.

"Alright," Macati agreed easily. "Just come down if you get bored."

Guylian nodded, listening to Justain’s heavy footsteps clunk down the stairs, followed by Macati’s slipper-softened steps.

When he was sure they were gone, he sat down gingerly, watching the pixie curl up contently. Its entire leg was spotted green and gray, and Guylian wondered how long it had before it completely disintegrated. Given the rate of decay, probably at least another hour. Macati must have been working on the pixies when they arrived.

So it was probably their fault he’d hurried the last pixie. It gave him a mournful look as Guylian tugged the spellbook closer. If Macati had been rushing, he’d probably put the closing on a little fast and the spell was unraveling since it hadn’t set.

Justain could talk for hours. Well, he could talk for hours if he was drunk or if he had someone he wanted to talk to. He never talked to Guylian for hours – the most he managed was half an hour before he realized who he was talking to and got cranky again. But he’d probably talk Macati’s ear off, and the pixie would be little more than dust before Macati came back to take care of it.

Skimming his fingertips down the page face, Guylian scanned across the spell, his lips quirking into a smile. Macati had written it. The words were elegantly scripted across the page, but it had all the overtones of Macati’s voice. There were a few odd word choices, and Guylian’s fingers itched for a pen to write in the better words, but he wasn’t going to impose on Macati’s hospitality more than he already was by reading the spell.

The closing was standard, with a few oddities to hold the ash and plant bases together. Probably Macati had stumbled or skipped a word there, finishing the pixie for a moment before it started to lose cohesion.

Guylian laid his hand flat on the bed next to the pixie, willing it to climb back onto his palm. It did, after a moment, limping across the bedspread and leaving smudges of gray dust behind. Guylian lifted it, cupping free hand around it gently to make sure it didn’t fall.

The pixie tilted its head curiously at him, its mouth twisting into a tiny pout. Guylian smiled, and quietly started to speak in Civomic, letting the spell unfurl without much thought. Justain would skin him if he caught him doing this, so hopefully no one would notice until after they’d left.

The spell was short and to the point, and the pixie grimaced as he murmured the last few words to hold it together as it was. He couldn’t fix it – the spell was too complicated for him to completely fix the pixie, but he could halt the degeneration until Macati got back to it. The pixie didn’t move, just stared at him expectantly from its perch in his hands.

"That’s all I can do," Guylian told it quietly, well aware of how silly it was to be talking to the construct. It probably couldn’t understand him. The pixie smiled at him though, and Guylian again marveled at its eyes – a pale blue color, they were the most realistic eyes Guylian had ever seen on a construct.

The spell would probably tell him how. Guylian moved to set down the pixie, but was startled when it took flight instead, flying straight for his face. It settled down on his shoulder, scooting across the fabric of the shirt he wore to hook its arm around his collar. Guylian froze, afraid to move, but the pixie didn’t let go or do anything unpleasant.

Guylian tried shrugging, but it still didn’t move. Not wanting to hurt it more, Guylian sighed and decided to let it be for now. Hopefully it would get bored quickly and fly off before Macati or Justain came back.

Smiling faintly, Guylian tugged the book close again, and bent over the book to begin dissecting the spell.