The Choice of Magic - Michael G. Manning Page 0,55

second hour, Will was ready to give up. “Why don’t you just take control like you did before? You do it and I’ll learn from that.”

The old man shook his head. “What I did before was compress your turyn, so it would fit within the spell-cage. You had to learn how to keep it that way on your own. This is almost the opposite of that.”

That gave Will an idea. Forcing himself to release his inner grip on the source of his turyn might give him more power to work with. He was rewarded moments later when a sensation of intense pain built within him. He clamped down on his source immediately.

“Fool,” remarked his grandfather. “You have to use the turyn you’re absorbing, not the turyn from your source. That’s why the spell-cage stays on, so you don’t develop sloppy technique.”

“I hate you sometimes,” said Will honestly.

The old man grinned. “Time for some staff sparring, then. You can try this again tomorrow.”

He didn’t have any better luck the next day, the next week, or even that month, and to make matters worse, his grandfather delighted in taunting him about his failure. “The first-year students at Wurthaven learn to do this during their first week. It’s the most basic step to creating magic. They don’t even let them start learning the runes until they manage this,” teased the old man.

Will was sitting down in the yard in front of the house, doing his best to concentrate. He was sweating in the heat, and a swarm of gnats seemed to have decided he would make great company. “Can you leave me alone?” he complained. “I can’t focus.”

Arrogan walked a slow circle around him. “Focus? A child could do this. If you weren’t such a moron, you’d have done it by now. Stop thinking so hard and just do it!” He stopped in front of Will and a strange expression crossed his face.

As Will inhaled, he was assaulted by the stench of something akin to rotten eggs. When he glanced up, he saw the old man watching him, and on seeing his reaction, Arrogan burst into laughter.

His frustration boiled over, and for a moment the world turned red. Within him, his anger churned and twisted, spinning until he could feel it as an almost physical object. Snarling, he pushed his hand out and his feeling became real; an intense ball of crimson light shot forth toward Arrogan.

The old man’s eyes widened in surprise, and he raised a hand just before the vicious ball of power struck him with a deafening thunderclap. Will was almost blinded by a flash of light, and when his vision cleared he saw his grandfather still standing, his hand outstretched, palm touching the ball of light. Arrogan’s face was a picture of intense concentration and his brow was beginning to bead with sweat.

“You’ve made your point, boy. Let it go. Now!” ordered the old man.

Will was still angry, and it was a second before he realized he was still connected to the energy, that he was in fact pressing it forward against his grandfather’s hasty defense. Meeting his teacher’s eyes, he wondered what would happen if he didn’t relent. I’ll teach the old bastard a lesson. He pushed harder.

Arrogan grunted, and his arm bent under the pressure. “This is why I hate training apprentices,” he growled under his breath. Sticking his left hand out to one side, he sent a red line of power out. It flowed with fluid grace and began to circle Will’s ball of focused hatred.

Will felt his control beginning to slip as whatever Arrogan was doing began to eat into his spell. His anger turned to panic as he felt his determination falter.

“Let it go, boy!” commanded his grandfather. “You’re just making it worse. If this goes much further, I won’t be able to contain it, and I guarantee that I won’t be the one who winds up a smoldering pile of ash. My kindness only goes so far.”

Unsure what he was doing, Will let go of his anger and tried to relax. As he did, he felt something snap within him, and pain shot through his body. Gasping, Will fell sideways and lay on the ground. Looking up, he saw his grandfather still struggling with the ball of turyn he had somehow conjured. It was growing smaller by the second, with streamers of light trailing behind it like smoke as the old man guided it into a circle around his body. He seemed to