[original] Dragon-Mage Series - On Magic and Heal-All Brews
Now that the noises have died down, I managed to type this Varen and Alain fic I had in my trusty notebook (TM). Still no smut, but the information on mages that shows up here will prove useful in future fics in this series.
I have no idea what is wrong with yahoo!groups, so I'll post it there tomorrow. If they fix it by then, of course.
This isn't beta-ed, so if you catch any errors do let me know.
Title: On Magic and Heal-All Brews
Author: Alice Montrose
Pairing: none so far
Series: Dragon-Mage (original fantasy)
Summary: Varen explains some aspects of magic to Alain.
Archive: My website and anywhere else I decide to post it on. All other please ask. You may store a copy of this story on your computer and share one with your friends.
Feedback: Encouraged! Comments, constructive criticism, suggestions and other stuff can be sent to alice_montrose {at} yahoo.com
Disclaimer: This is an original story. All characters and events are purely fictional and they belong to me. If you want to use them in a story of your own, please ask first.
Rating: PG for this part.
Notes: Since this is part of an ongoing series, some things might not make sense at first. If you have any questions, I'll try my best to answer them - but if you do ask, please let me know if you don't want any spoilers.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
It was a lovely mid-autumn day, and Alain returned from his ride to the smell brewed heal-all coming out of Varen's house. Braving the smoke and stifling heat of the kitchen, he realized that the potion was thankfully in the process of being placed into recipients. Though he had to admit, this was a new method to do so - for each jar already held a piece of honeycomb.
"What's the honeycomb for?" Alain asked, watching Varen pour the concoction in the recipient.
The mage smiled. "To make it taste better, of course. I've added citrine grass as well." He stoppered the jar and gave it a few good shakes, then placed it on the shelf and started filling another one.
Alain became very interested in his actions, indeed.
"Aren't heal-all brews supposed to taste nasty?" He crouched to be at the same level with the glass recipients and watched the foul-smelling brew flow over the honeycomb. "The gods know, every single one I've drunk tasted as bad as it smelled."
Varen raised a brow and smirked. "Then I assume your mages are not too loved by ailing children. And that they either forgot how to make their brews taste... acceptable, or they take hidden pleasure in seeing their patients drink foul potions."
"The archmage called it punishment for all those afternoons I spent swimming in the pond and acting ‘below my status'," Alain informed him.
Varen's smirk widened. "I do remember him as a sensible young man." He made to stopper the final recipient, but Alain's hand closed on his wrist.
"So, can I have a taste?"
The mage watched him carefully; the prince looked entirely too giddy.
"No," he replied. "You are not ill, therefore do not need it." The last part was added too quickly for Alain to protest, and Varen's wrist slipped past the prince's hold in an entirely unnatural fashion. The jar was sealed and placed on the shelf next to the others, then the cupboard locked and the key vanished from the mage's hand right under Alain's astonished gaze.
He still had to figure out what kind of trick allowed Varen to vanish objects at his will.
"But..."
"No, Alain. Abusing nature's kindness is not my way."
Explaining himself was also not Varen's way, but the thoroughly confused look on Alain's face eventually made him take pity on the young prince.
"I sometimes wonder what they teach at that fancy Mage Collegium," he grumbled, mostly to himself, as he gathered up the canister, funnel and sieve. He gave the last two to Alain and motioned for him to follow outside, to the small trough by the fountain he used exclusively for cleaning his instruments.
"It is very simple, really. Like this water," - he cupped his hand and raised it, letting Alain see the liquid flow between his fingers - "magical powers come from a source. Part of the life stream that creates all things, they are inborn and present in different measures for each individual; some remain dormant, some manifest themselves. Nature is also part of this life stream. Therefore, when one makes use of something that is part of nature, one must offer something in return, to make sure the Great Balance of Things remains unchanged. Sometimes the offer is unconsciously made, at other time it is ignored on purpose - and then nature will find a way to take what is needed in order to restore the balance.
"True magic is a fickle art, Alain. But with natural magic such as potions, I find that the health of those I cure is payment enough. Does that make any sense to you?"
"It is a little confusing," Alain confessed. "And what happens if one takes but does not give back?"
"Ah yes." Varen set aside the newly-cleaned instruments and sat down, resting his back against the well's rocky enclosure and motioning for Alain to sit next to him. "There are those with no regards for the balance, who believe that everything is there for the taking and there will be no consequences for the misuse of power. The price those mages pay is a terrible one - their powers get out of control and they die very young."
It was an interesting theory, the prince thought. He recalled his original impression that coming to serve as Varen's apprentice would serve no purpose, and realized he had been wrong to think that. He was learning a great deal, even if some were not skills and knowledge a prince needed.
"What about the ones they call abominations... the dark mages?" They were not a topic often discussed outside the collegium, but his second-eldest sister had told him frightening stories that the archmage had shared with his students during lessons.
Varen weighed his answer for a moment. "Dark mages, as your people call them, are quite rare. Usually they get mistaken for mages who have abused their inborn power and perverted their connection to nature. But a true dark mage is one who has dedicated his existence to all things evil, while still remaining part of the Great Balance. For there is no good without evil, no relief without pain, no joy without tears. However... the price these mages pay is even more frightening, in its way. In time, they lose their ability to feel common emotions such as pain, or love, or even hate. Their only craving is for power: power that would enhance their own, power to sustain them."
Alain gave Varen a speculative look. "Like the powers you have? To maintain yourself young when, by all accounts, you have lived centuries? To control beasts the way you do..."
"I do not" - Varen snarled - "control beasts. They listen to me because they know I care for them. Even the fire wyrms, if you must know - perhaps them in particular, for very few would care for such creatures. No, Alain, my powers are inborn, and I accept both the privileges they offer and responsibilities they bring. Besides, were I a dark mage, you would have known by now."
Being the recipient of Varen's deadliest glare, Alain had edged away from him, though here wouldn't have been any way to escape if a mage of Varen's calibre wanted him dead. "So you're just eccentric," he half-asked, half-declared.
"Very eccentric," the mage corrected, but he wasn't glaring anymore. "At least so it seems, by your people's standards.
"Perhaps it's just the fear of someone so different."
"Fear, awe, not a small amount of envy and lust. Or so I find. Over the centuries, do you know how many have tried to bind me to them, to unveil my secrets, or to kill me in order to eradicate what they do not understand?"
Unconsciously, Alain bent closer. "What happened to those people?"
"Some lived, some died. Some lived and wished they had died. Depending on my mood at the moment." Varen shrugged and got up. "Come, princeling. I still have some blackcurrant brandy to bottle, and those stories are meant for long winter nights anyway. If you're still interested in them by that time, of course."
Alain knew he'd always be interested. And he suspected that Varen knew he knew.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
I have no idea what is wrong with yahoo!groups, so I'll post it there tomorrow. If they fix it by then, of course.
This isn't beta-ed, so if you catch any errors do let me know.
Title: On Magic and Heal-All Brews
Author: Alice Montrose
Pairing: none so far
Series: Dragon-Mage (original fantasy)
Summary: Varen explains some aspects of magic to Alain.
Archive: My website and anywhere else I decide to post it on. All other please ask. You may store a copy of this story on your computer and share one with your friends.
Feedback: Encouraged! Comments, constructive criticism, suggestions and other stuff can be sent to alice_montrose {at} yahoo.com
Disclaimer: This is an original story. All characters and events are purely fictional and they belong to me. If you want to use them in a story of your own, please ask first.
Rating: PG for this part.
Notes: Since this is part of an ongoing series, some things might not make sense at first. If you have any questions, I'll try my best to answer them - but if you do ask, please let me know if you don't want any spoilers.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
It was a lovely mid-autumn day, and Alain returned from his ride to the smell brewed heal-all coming out of Varen's house. Braving the smoke and stifling heat of the kitchen, he realized that the potion was thankfully in the process of being placed into recipients. Though he had to admit, this was a new method to do so - for each jar already held a piece of honeycomb.
"What's the honeycomb for?" Alain asked, watching Varen pour the concoction in the recipient.
The mage smiled. "To make it taste better, of course. I've added citrine grass as well." He stoppered the jar and gave it a few good shakes, then placed it on the shelf and started filling another one.
Alain became very interested in his actions, indeed.
"Aren't heal-all brews supposed to taste nasty?" He crouched to be at the same level with the glass recipients and watched the foul-smelling brew flow over the honeycomb. "The gods know, every single one I've drunk tasted as bad as it smelled."
Varen raised a brow and smirked. "Then I assume your mages are not too loved by ailing children. And that they either forgot how to make their brews taste... acceptable, or they take hidden pleasure in seeing their patients drink foul potions."
"The archmage called it punishment for all those afternoons I spent swimming in the pond and acting ‘below my status'," Alain informed him.
Varen's smirk widened. "I do remember him as a sensible young man." He made to stopper the final recipient, but Alain's hand closed on his wrist.
"So, can I have a taste?"
The mage watched him carefully; the prince looked entirely too giddy.
"No," he replied. "You are not ill, therefore do not need it." The last part was added too quickly for Alain to protest, and Varen's wrist slipped past the prince's hold in an entirely unnatural fashion. The jar was sealed and placed on the shelf next to the others, then the cupboard locked and the key vanished from the mage's hand right under Alain's astonished gaze.
He still had to figure out what kind of trick allowed Varen to vanish objects at his will.
"But..."
"No, Alain. Abusing nature's kindness is not my way."
Explaining himself was also not Varen's way, but the thoroughly confused look on Alain's face eventually made him take pity on the young prince.
"I sometimes wonder what they teach at that fancy Mage Collegium," he grumbled, mostly to himself, as he gathered up the canister, funnel and sieve. He gave the last two to Alain and motioned for him to follow outside, to the small trough by the fountain he used exclusively for cleaning his instruments.
"It is very simple, really. Like this water," - he cupped his hand and raised it, letting Alain see the liquid flow between his fingers - "magical powers come from a source. Part of the life stream that creates all things, they are inborn and present in different measures for each individual; some remain dormant, some manifest themselves. Nature is also part of this life stream. Therefore, when one makes use of something that is part of nature, one must offer something in return, to make sure the Great Balance of Things remains unchanged. Sometimes the offer is unconsciously made, at other time it is ignored on purpose - and then nature will find a way to take what is needed in order to restore the balance.
"True magic is a fickle art, Alain. But with natural magic such as potions, I find that the health of those I cure is payment enough. Does that make any sense to you?"
"It is a little confusing," Alain confessed. "And what happens if one takes but does not give back?"
"Ah yes." Varen set aside the newly-cleaned instruments and sat down, resting his back against the well's rocky enclosure and motioning for Alain to sit next to him. "There are those with no regards for the balance, who believe that everything is there for the taking and there will be no consequences for the misuse of power. The price those mages pay is a terrible one - their powers get out of control and they die very young."
It was an interesting theory, the prince thought. He recalled his original impression that coming to serve as Varen's apprentice would serve no purpose, and realized he had been wrong to think that. He was learning a great deal, even if some were not skills and knowledge a prince needed.
"What about the ones they call abominations... the dark mages?" They were not a topic often discussed outside the collegium, but his second-eldest sister had told him frightening stories that the archmage had shared with his students during lessons.
Varen weighed his answer for a moment. "Dark mages, as your people call them, are quite rare. Usually they get mistaken for mages who have abused their inborn power and perverted their connection to nature. But a true dark mage is one who has dedicated his existence to all things evil, while still remaining part of the Great Balance. For there is no good without evil, no relief without pain, no joy without tears. However... the price these mages pay is even more frightening, in its way. In time, they lose their ability to feel common emotions such as pain, or love, or even hate. Their only craving is for power: power that would enhance their own, power to sustain them."
Alain gave Varen a speculative look. "Like the powers you have? To maintain yourself young when, by all accounts, you have lived centuries? To control beasts the way you do..."
"I do not" - Varen snarled - "control beasts. They listen to me because they know I care for them. Even the fire wyrms, if you must know - perhaps them in particular, for very few would care for such creatures. No, Alain, my powers are inborn, and I accept both the privileges they offer and responsibilities they bring. Besides, were I a dark mage, you would have known by now."
Being the recipient of Varen's deadliest glare, Alain had edged away from him, though here wouldn't have been any way to escape if a mage of Varen's calibre wanted him dead. "So you're just eccentric," he half-asked, half-declared.
"Very eccentric," the mage corrected, but he wasn't glaring anymore. "At least so it seems, by your people's standards.
"Perhaps it's just the fear of someone so different."
"Fear, awe, not a small amount of envy and lust. Or so I find. Over the centuries, do you know how many have tried to bind me to them, to unveil my secrets, or to kill me in order to eradicate what they do not understand?"
Unconsciously, Alain bent closer. "What happened to those people?"
"Some lived, some died. Some lived and wished they had died. Depending on my mood at the moment." Varen shrugged and got up. "Come, princeling. I still have some blackcurrant brandy to bottle, and those stories are meant for long winter nights anyway. If you're still interested in them by that time, of course."
Alain knew he'd always be interested. And he suspected that Varen knew he knew.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~