10. Haldric

ten

Haldric

Haldric entered the Grand Magus' tower, relieved when he didn't see Benjin there. Their lesson yesterday had started off okay enough, but it had ended as disastrously as Haldric had predicted.

Benjin had talent—even Haldric could see that from how swiftly he'd picked up the runes they'd practiced. Yet, he was also hasty and far too reckless. That stunt he'd pulled with the levitation spell could have ended far worse than it had.

What if instead of fizzling, the mismatched spell had amplified and attempted to levitate the entire room straight out of the keep? Or Goddess forbid, what if it had inverted to voidflame. Not even the Grand Magus' wards could've protected them then.

"Your Highness," Dexil said in greeting. He spared Haldric a fond smile before returning his attention to the thin sheet of metal before him.

Haldric recognized enough of the protective sigils to guess this was part of the warding he was working on for the upcoming Summit. Thinking of all those governors gathered in one place, looking to him for guidance, sent a wave of anxiety washing over him.

He tried to shove it down, focusing on his main purpose here. "I hope I'm not disturbing you. I wanted to speak to you about your new apprentice."

"I always have time to spare for you, Your Highness. Did your joint lesson yesterday go well?"

Haldric hesitated. Despite his dislike for the young mage, he didn't relish the prospect of getting Benjin in trouble. Still, he couldn't ignore his concerns either.

"To be honest, it nearly ended in disaster. I'm not certain Benjin possesses the proper temperament to be a mage. His eagerness to experiment almost put us both in jeopardy."

Dexil clucked his tongue. "I was afraid of that. Not to worry—I'll talk to him. Next time though, I suggest you proceed with more caution. It's probably best to avoid channeling any runeflame until you're confident he's mastered the rune."

Haldric blinked, certain he must have misheard. "Forgive me, Grand Magus, but did you say next time?"

"Of course." Dexil indicated the incomplete wards with a glowing palm. "I expect things will only grow more hectic as the Summit nears, and I don't want either of you to neglect your magical training in the meantime."

Haldric fought down a grimace. "I'm not certain that's wise."

"Please, Your Highness, just until the Summit. I suspect you may be pleasantly surprised. I learned much from practicing with my peers at the Arcanum."

Stifling his complaints, Haldric inclined his head. "Of course, Grand Magus. I will do my best."

It's only another five weeks until the Provincial Council meets, Haldric consoled himself as he exited the tower, leaving Dexil to his work. And who knows—maybe by then the Grand Magus will have found a more suitable apprentice.

The next few weeks passed all too quickly. Haldric's days remained as packed as ever, practicing his swordplay with Marshal Fendrel and attending to his other lessons with as much enthusiasm as he could muster.

Every new morning brought him one day closer to the Provincial Council's arrival. A gnawing worry grew in his gut that he couldn't seem to dispel. His father would be relying on him to hold his own against the other governors, and Haldric felt increasingly certain he'd let him down.

After how their first session together had ended, Haldric had expected his bi-weekly practice sessions with Benjin to be yet another source of stress. But to his surprise they proved, if not exactly enjoyable, then at least bearable.

There was something about the apprentice he found strangely compelling. Benjin was undisciplined to be sure and liable to take offense to even the smallest perceived slight. Yet in a strange way, their sessions offered Haldric a reprieve from the rest of his overwhelming duties.

Everywhere else, he was the prince and heir with the weight of the kingdom resting on his incompetent shoulders. But in that sitting room, he could let his mask slip a little and pretend he was just a boy again, studying runeflame for the sheer joy of it.

Benjin didn't have any lofty expectations of him because he was a prince. If anything, Benjin seemed to resent his title and look down upon it. And while Haldric still sometimes found himself yearning to slap the insolent brat, it was also refreshing to feel like there was someone who didn't expect anything from him due to his impending crown.

Perhaps there was hope for Dexil's unorthodox apprentice yet.

"You're still doing it wrong," Haldric sighed. Ignoring the light brush of Benjin's shoulder against his arm, he leaned in and gestured to the rune scribbled on the parchment. "Those lines are too close together, and the tip of the bottom line doesn't curve inward enough."

"It looks exactly the same as yours," Benjin said.

Haldric shook his head, exasperated. "No. It doesn't. If you'd just properly apply yourself, then you'd have gotten it by now."

"I am applying myself. Though it would be a lot easier if you'd stop hovering." Benjin slumped back in his chair and stretched. When Haldric caught himself tracking the lithe movement, he jerked his gaze away. Benjin continued, "Plus, I still don't see why I need to memorize all these runes before we practice more spells. Hand gestures can achieve the same effect with far less precision."

"Which is why we're starting with the runes first," Haldric said. "Otherwise, you'll enforce bad habits and sloppy spellcraft. Now, pay attention, and you might actually learn something. Here, let me demonstrate again."

Haldric reached for the quill. Instead of handing it over, Benjin tossed it atop the parchment and stood. Haldric scowled at the fresh ink bleeding into the paper and marring the runes etched there. "Be careful!"

"Goddess' mercy," Benjin said, spinning on him. "Can you at least try to set aside your superiority complex and your hatred of lowborns for one second? Believe me, I don't want to be here any more than you do. But this is the task the Grand Magus set for us, so I intend to see it through."

Haldric blinked, his usual mask of calm slipping before his shock. "What in the name of the Goddess are you talking about? I have nothing against lowborns."

Benjin snorted, rolling his eyes. "Of course not, Your Highness ." He managed a mocking bow. "My humblest apologies."

Forcing down his anger, Haldric said, "If anything, it seems to me like you have a problem with nobles. Ever since you first saw me in Dexil's chambers, it's as if you've been looking for any excuse to hate me."

"I don't need an excuse," Benjin snapped. That gave Haldric pause. Before he could question it, however, Benjin turned away. "Let's just get back to work." He settled back into his seat and picked up the discarded quill.

Haldric watched Benjin resume copying the runes Haldric had shown him, silently replaying Benjin's accusations in his head.

"The Grand Magus is lowborn," he said, earning a surprised glance from Benjin. "And I have nothing but the utmost respect for him. It's the actions and achievements of a person that define them, not the circumstances of their birth."

Benjin arched an eyebrow, and Haldric found himself momentarily captivated by the shimmering gray depths of his eyes. "So, you're telling me that if a maid and a lord both came to you, begging your attention, you'd treat them the same? Give both their statements equal weight?"

Haldric hesitated, and Benjin shook his head, returning his attention to his parchment. "That's what I thought."

"Perhaps you're right," Haldric said after a moment's consideration, relishing the startled look that flashed across Benjin's face. "Perhaps it's a failing I need to work on."

Benjin recovered quickly, his expression turning mocking. "What's this? The vaunted prince admitting he might be fallible? My ears must deceive me."

Though it wasn't much different from the countless other jibes Benjin had thrown at him, something about the words cut more deeply, lodging in Haldric's chest. He couldn't help but think of Melisie, and just how inadequate he'd proven at filling her shoes.

Perhaps he'd have been happier as a lowborn, living in a small hut in some unimportant village somewhere. But alas, he'd been cursed to be born a prince.

He cleared his throat. "Enough banter. Focus on your runes."

But Benjin was studying him now, his expression thoughtful as his pale eyes narrowed. Haldric shifted uncomfortably beneath the silent scrutiny.

"What?" he demanded at last.

"Why do you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Retreat inside yourself like that." Benjin's slate-gray eyes bored into him, seeming to pierce him and pin him in place. "It's like…like you're putting on a performance, trying to shut yourself off from everyone else around you."

The observation slammed into Haldric, dragging his fears of being an undeserving impostor to the surface. "Fine," he snapped, desperate to change the subject. "If you don't feel like practicing your runes, then tell me what first drew you to runeflame. How did you learn to channel?"

Benjin visibly prickled, his shoulders tensing. "You mean, how did I learn to channel as a lowborn? I suppose you think magic should only be for the wealthy, huh?"

Oh, for the Goddess' sake! "You know perfectly well that isn't what I meant! Rich or poor, it makes no difference when it comes to magical talent…though I'll admit, it's easier for some than others to hone their craft." A small smile graced Haldric's lips as his thoughts turned to the past. "For me, it was the stories my father used to read at bedtime—tales of brave heroes and noble magicians. I used to dream of becoming a great mage and traveling Allaria to help those in need."

Benjin's harsh glare softened. "What changed?"

Picturing his sister, Haldric shoved down his grief and straightened his back. "My responsibilities caught up with me. A prince can't exactly go gallivanting off across the countryside whenever the whim strikes him. My father and the kingdom need me here. What about you?"

An unexpected vulnerability flickered across Benjin's face. He shrugged. "I learned everything I know via trial and error from an old spell tome I stumbled on as a kid."

Haldric barked an incredulous laugh. "So, you're saying you've always been this reckless?"

He regretted his words the instant he said them, certain Benjin would take insult. To his relief, Benjin's face split in a wry grin. "Believe it or not, I was careful." His expression darkened. "At least, until the baroness I'd borrowed the book from caught me with it."

"What did she do?"

Benjin stared at the scribbled parchment in front of him. His fingers twitched restlessly in his lap. "What do you think? She sent my mother and me packing the next morning with nothing but the clothes on our backs. Since then, I've managed a few basic cantrips I picked up from that book and a couple other things I taught myself along the way."

Despite himself, Haldric was impressed. There was something admirable about Benjin's determination to learn. "Care to show me what you know?"

Benjin's cheeks reddened. "It's nothing compared to the sort of magic you can do. That demonstration you showed me the other day puts anything I can do to shame."

"Show me anyway. Please. I want to see."

Benjin glanced at him, his eyes unreadable. After a span of heartbeats, he sighed. "Suit yourself."

Haldric watched curiously as Benjin made a series of crude hand gestures. Though Haldric recognized some of them, he'd never seen them arranged in such a peculiar configuration.

His breath caught when the flame from a nearby candle shifted into a pair of fiery simulacrums. Though the little figures were indistinct, Haldric could tell from the way they moved that they were arguing.

He studied them for a moment, then grinned. "Is that supposed to be us?"

"Mhmm. I think I nailed the arrogant way you stand quite well, if I do say so myself." The small smile Benjin gave him took any sting out of the words.

Benjin gestured, and the figures shifted into two new people Haldric didn't recognize dancing slowly with one another.

"Who's that?" he asked softly, admiring the twirling figures. The underlying runes might've been poorly made, but the overall effect was impressively complex, mixing a Conjuration with several different Evocations.

Benjin was slow to answer. Haldric glanced at him, surprised to see his drawn, pained expression. "My mother and father…or at least, what I imagine they might've looked like together. I never met my father, and Mom doesn't like to talk about him much. All I know is that he was a soldier."

Sympathy shivered down Haldric's spine. "My father is the same way about my mother. She passed when I was very little: an accident while out horseback riding. The chirurgeons couldn't get to her in time."

Benjin nodded, a silent understanding flashing between them. Unsure what else to say, Haldric focused back on Benjin's display. It was a kind of magic he'd never practiced himself—the sort you might see from a bard or other street performer. Impractical, with no real applications…yet undeniably beautiful.

Benjin finished his routine. A faint blush colored his cheeks as the fiery figures winked out. "Like I said, it's not real magic—just a trick I picked up to help me earn some extra coin."

"I thought it was brilliant," Haldric said truthfully. "No wonder the Grand Magus agreed to take you on as his apprentice."

Benjin's blush deepened. "I, um, didn't show him that one. I was worried he'd find it too frivolous."

His light gray eyes met Haldric's, an emotion in them that Haldric couldn't quite decipher. Something stirred in Haldric's chest, and he found his gaze lingering on Benjin's long, lean lines and the nest of blond curls that fell about his narrow face. His heartbeat quickened as a fresh tension filled the air between them, one Haldric wasn't entirely sure how to break…or if he even wanted to.

Suddenly, Benjin jerked to his feet. Muttering a vague excuse under his breath, he turned and fled from the chamber, leaving Haldric blinking confusedly after him.