Chapter 11: 11. Six Colours

An excerpt from Yenna Bookbinder’s ‘A Travelling Mage’s Almanac.’

“It was with some trepidation that I entered into an accord with the witch Lumale. Even in our relatively tame initial meeting I sensed a great deal of frustration and anger from her, especially directed towards mages. I’ve barely travelled at all with this group and already I am parlaying with a witch of all things! Had I known this expedition was to be so eventful, I may have at least hesitated somewhat more before undertaking it. Lumale’s approach to magic is fascinating, however…”

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“With that all aside, how did you enjoy your meals?”

All the tension in the room evaporated in an instant as Lumale’s act as a sweet cafe owner returned. The silupker held Yenna’s hand for a moment longer than was appropriate, before allowing the group to answer.

“It was great!” Jiin was first to answer, all smiles now. “Even Demvya liked it, though she ain’t really got much, uh, frame o’ reference.”

“It really was quite something, especially for someone who can’t—” Mayi cut herself off, earning a giggle from Lumale. “Erm. I mean no offense.”

“Of course not. People rarely do! How about you, mage?” Lumale turned her attention to the table, where Yenna’s skhei roll sat untouched, her kaffe merely sipped.

“I’m afraid in all the excitement, I nearly forgot my hunger. Perhaps you might tell me more about the illusions you use while I finish my meal…?” Yenna seated herself again—she was quite hungry, though she detested eating without something to occupy her mind while she did so. It was at this point she recalled Tirk was still sitting nearby, the boy eyeing Yenna’s dinner with a bit of drool in the corner of his mouth.

“How about a meal for the little lad instead?” Lumale leaned down a bit to match height with Tirk. The boy perked up instantly, and after a brief moment of going over the menu, Lumale departed to prepare something for him. Yenna was still curious about something Tirk had said earlier, though.

“When you walked in earlier, you said your horn always points you to a story. How so?” Yenna found a new page in her journal and looked back at him, ready to write it all down.

“Are you gonna put it in your journal? Wow! Only super-important things go in the journal, so that means my horn is super-important, yeah?” Tirk bounced with joy, and Yenna couldn’t help but melt a little at his expression.

“I…yes, I suppose it might be quite important. Now, tell me all about it.”

“Well, you see, um,” Tirk paused for a moment to steal a lump of cheese from Yenna’s roll, “Sometimes—tasty!—when someone’s talkin’ about a reeeally interesting story, I can just…tell! I feel a li’l byu-byu feeling in my horn, and I follow it! And the Captain says it’s my special power, and that I’m helping the whoooole expedition when I follow it!”

“I, erm, see. I think.” Yenna tapped her chin with her finger, slightly confused. “Would you mind if I cast a spell to look more closely?”

Tirk didn’t have any objections, and was rather more excited to see his food—Lumale had prepared scrambled eggs, topped with a herb that Yenna recognised as a local one used for cooking—though her knowledge ended with its lack of magical properties. Yenna rubbed a ring and cast a small spell, her fingertip glowing with a pale blue light. As the boy eagerly tucked into his food, the mage tapped the finger to Tirk’s horn—only for the spell to fizzle and fade.

“No reaction at all?” Mumbling under her breath, Yenna was startled to realise Lumale was watching her intently—and likely had been, the entire time.

“That’s because you’re swinging magic around without the slightest hint of finesse.” The witch gave a small chuckle. “You mages always cast like a painter trying to paint a masterpiece with a wall brush. Cautious to the last, I suppose.”

Yenna raised an eyebrow. “I’m not really sure what you mean. The spell was meant to make an object with magical properties glow, by causing it to accept a spell of light.” 

Lumale laughed her jingling laugh, deepening Yenna’s frown.

“Your problem is with the very basis of your spells. Perhaps you might like to give a little lesson to everyone here on how you cast a spell, and I might chance to tell you how you’ve been taught wrong.” The witch leaned against the table, and Yenna could feel herself being goaded. Her mental discipline kicked in and calmed her, but she still felt it necessary to follow through here.

“Fine. I don’t mind teaching, and if I might learn something too then there’s no harm in it.”

“Hah! Always trying to act cool. I can tell it bothered you, that your discipline might be wrong on some fundamental level. It’s the basics that have slipped by you, I can tell. But do go on!”

Ignoring Lumale’s taunts, Yenna pulled one of her rings off and held it up to show everyone. Jiin was eating the remainder of Mayi’s meal, and Tirk was all but licking up the last scraps on his plate, but all eyes were intently turned her way.

“The first step in spellcasting is to gather magic. Each of my rings contains a spell of their own, a simple thing that causes it to gather and utilise magic in a different way. This one in my hand has a spell called a ‘magic cycler’—I push a small amount of magic into it to activate its spell, and it continuously draws magic from the area and condenses it so I can use it for a lasting spell.”

Yenna rubbed the gemstone atop the ring with her thumb, holding it up for everyone to see. On the inner surface of the band, minute symbols glowed with a pulsing, revolving light, accompanied by the gemstone itself giving off a tiny amount of hazy smoke. The demonstration was somewhat ruined by an insistent, hollow sound that Lumale made as she tapped her fingers on the table—the witch was evidently giving her something of a hurry-up.

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“Right now, I don’t have a spell using that magic, so it’s just dissipating back into the air quite harmlessly,” Yenna noted the haze as she slipped the glowing ring back on, “But I can now harness that magic to cast a spell. I’ll use it to cast a spell of light most associate with enchanted torches—”

“How about,” Lumale chimed in, reaching a hand towards the ring, “You let me cast a little spell here? Then, I can show you what’s wrong with your trinkets.”

Slightly insulted but ultimately curious, Yenna held out her hand so that the witch could take the ring off of her—instead, she grabbed Yenna’s hand and pulled it towards her, performing gestures with her other hand. Her grip wasn’t tight, but it came with an insistence of power that made the prospect of trying to pull free an unpleasant one. Yenna watched, at first with worry and then with fascination, as the haze emanating from her ring transformed and coalesced.

“One mistake the mages have always made is their insistence on the singularity of magic. You consider it the base component, the purest form, and attempt to shape it to your will. However, you have it all backwards.” With a few gestures, Lumale cordoned the haze into a pillar of white light. “I know mages are interested in the mundane sciences. Have you ever passed a beam of light through a prism of glass?”

“Yes, I have.” Yenna looked into the beam, a frown forming on her face. “The light splits into many different colours. Are you saying…?”

Lumale gave a self-satisfied chuckle. “Yes, exactly. Magic is not the blank slate upon which you may add colour, but all the colours themselves, waiting to be split. For the sake of our non-magically inclined friends, allow me to introduce to you all to the six colours of magic.”

“Colours…? Surely you mean elements?” Yenna couldn’t help but interrupt. Surprisingly, Mayi nodded in agreement.

“I’ve heard of the elements. Ice, Water, Lightning, Fire, Earth and Air, right? Even mundane medicine is concerned with elemental balance in patients. We use certain herbs or tonics to cure maladies caused by imbalances.”

“Did you know Aulpre’s modern medicine was also inspired by the work of witches?” If Lumale could have, Yenna knew the witch would be smirking right now. “But before I go rightfully claiming all works as a product of witchcraft, allow me to elaborate on the colours.”

With a few quiet chimes and a flick of her fingers, the silupker conjured up a small bead of glass. Holding it over the top of the pillar of light, the magical energy split six ways like the petals of an ethereal flower. Each one shone with a myriad of colours that overlapped and blurred into each other near the edges, the primary colour of each petal being most prominent at its furthest tip.

“There are six primal colours, and each holds domain over an element—and so much more. Each colour encompasses a range of emotions, of concepts, of strengths and weaknesses.” The witch stopped, seemingly entranced by the flower’s beauty, running her fingers across the six petals. The first was an icy blue, coated in a fine layer of frost. Its neighbour was a brilliant aquamarine, dripping slightly. Next, a regal purple that crackled with sparks, and a burning crimson that seemed to give off more light than the rest. Last, a golden petal coated in dust, and an impossibly thin, green petal that seemed to flap in unseen wind. In this order, Lumale explained their names.

“This is Stasis, the colour of ice, of calm and stillness. Then Flow, the colour of water and sorrow. Pride, the colour of lightning and fear, and Wroth, the colour of fire and anger. Lastly, Certainty, the colour of earth and contentment, and Joy, the colour of air and happiness.” As Lumale’s fingers hovered over the green petal, she suddenly reached forward and plucked it, causing the whole illusion to fall apart except for the petal.

“Mages are content with wasting time and effort on overpowering magic into new forms. Witches simply take the things they need and subtract away the rest—no wasted excess.” The witch tapped the top of Yenna’s ring, and the enchantment stopped its work. 

Yenna pulled away her hand and frowned. “This is fascinating, but what difference does it make? Mages cast via addition, and witches via subtraction?” 

As she spoke, Yenna began a sketch of the flower in her journal. With a huff, Lumale placed the green petal in its corresponding place on the image, and stained the page green with its power.

“It is important, dear mage, because your current techniques are like using a sledgehammer to sculpt a masterpiece. Perhaps I was wrong—mages aren’t ready for such precision.” The witch gave an exasperated shrug, and Yenna felt herself being goaded once more. Despite it all, she wasn’t going to let this one go unchallenged, not when she needed Lumale’s help with the black book.

“I apologise for speaking in haste. I would be delighted for you to enlighten me in your ways—”

“Great! Meet me behind my shop.” Lumale barely waited for Yenna to finish before trotting out the door. The group stood there, open-mouthed in surprise—she really had just run for it. Out of all of them, Tirk was the first to hop up. With a cheeky grin, he waved for the rest of them to come with him, and who were they to deny his enthusiasm? Stowing her journal for now, they all gave chase.

Behind the shop was a small clearing, and Lumale had conjured a number of floating lamps to illuminate the area. With a wave of her hand, she used a spell to draw a large magic circle in the dirt—in turn, that spell erupted into a wide stone platform, big enough for two people to stand on with some room in the middle. Yenna immediately recognised it for what it was.

“A duelling circle? You don’t mean to fight me, do you?” Yenna made a point of standing at the circle’s edge, for entering it was a traditional means of accepting a challenge¹. Lumale laughed, her earthenware hooves clinking loudly on the stone.

“No, not quite. I wish for you to prove to me you are worth teaching. You certainly look the part, and give off the boring, book-bound aura of a mage, but I wish to see your technical skill.” With a flick of a hand, the cafe uniform illusion vanished, replaced with the truth of her vibrant green silk robes. Between her fingertips appeared a hat with an excessively wide brim, which Lumale twirled onto her head. With her other hand, a swirling mass of white light appeared in the centre of the platform.

“A simple challenge—a test of control. If you can’t handle a trifling contest like this, you certainly can’t handle my secrets.”

One of Yenna’s back legs twitched, ready to reflexively step away. She took a deep breath, steadied herself and stepped forth into the circle.

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¹ - Duelling circles are a tradition that seem to date back to the ancient wizards of Aulpre, and are also a surprisingly common feature of magical traditions the multiverse over. Arcane mages use these to test various skills, often stipulating certain rules or restrictions, though a variety of unspoken, traditional laws exist. For starters, stepping into the circle is always an acceptance, though exceptions are made for those forced to do so by extenuating circumstances. In Yenna’s time, duels to the death have long been outlawed, and duels that end in significant harm were frowned upon. There are also tenets covering the duellist’s ability to concede at any time, protections for duellists before and after a duel, and even issues of fitness for attending a duel—for example, a duel can be declared null and void if the restrictions in place would clearly and unfairly benefit one duellist over another.

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