The group was led over to a medium-sized building with two floors. The first floor had a sign hanging out near the road’s edge which read “The Alchemist”, and the top floor appeared to be some type of residence. Tristan assumed it was, in all likelihood, where the owners lived. A small patch of land was fenced-in between the building and the next; and raised planter boxes were growing all manner of medicinal herbs he was familiar with.

  Dismounting and whispering to both horses to stay put, Tristan was led inside by the young boy escort, who was greeted warmly by the shop keep; a middle-aged woman with predominantly Human heritage, but there was some splash of another heritage far down her line of ancestors. “Ah, young Master Birrow. You must be escorting the Elf I heard saved our town the day prior.”

  The young boy grinned and nodded, “Yup! This is Tristan, he’s a white-haired Elf. Father said that we should listen to whatever he needs and get it for him.”

  The shop keeper nodded, “Well, Master Tristan. How can I help you?”

  Tristan looked around the shop, “I really just want to restock my herb supplies for potions, poultices, and the like. If you have any books on alchemy or elixirs, I’d be happy to take those – but only if you’re willing to part with them.”

  The woman drummed her fingers on the countertop, “I cannot give you my manual as I use it with my two apprentices. But supplies are in ready supply.” She chuckled at her own little play on words. “Just let me know what you need.”

  Tristan began listing off items, and the woman went around the shop grabbing bundles of the various herbs he had requested. After five minutes, there was a small basket full of ingredients. Tristan made sure to ask for small amounts of each, since he knew he could make bushes or trees to produce more of the ingredients in the Fey Realm.

  Looking around, he spied one more item. A giant jar of oil. Perfect, he thought, I can use that to suspend the liquid since we don’t have any means of producing oil as it stands in the Fey Realm. “Can you part with that jar?” he asked as he pointed at it.

  The woman looked up and then shrugged, “Sure. Grapeseed oil. Decent stuff, but it’s got a bitter flavor when used in potions; so, it’s my last resort. Not neutral like canola oil.” She grabbed the jar and added it to the pile.

  Tristan gestured, “Felicity, voisitko s?ilytt?? t?m?n?” (Felicity, would you please store this?).

  The shopkeep looked at him quizzically, and Felicity reached down, tapping the basket with a paw-claw and sucking it into the storage dimension. The shop keep’s jaw went slack, and Tristan smiled. “Thank you for the help.”

  He turned and left, finding the Archon outside, smoking his pipe. He nodded at Tristan, “Got what you needed?”

  Tristan nodded, “Yeah.” Looking down to the lad guiding them, this Birrow, he softly spoke. “Please take us to the essence-weaver’s abode for our last destination.”

  The boy smiled and waved for the duo to follow him. Re-mounting, the two men followed their guide a few streets over and then dismounted before entering a squat, single-story building that looked to be one of the older ones judging by the weathered stones along the exterior.

  Obadai chose to come inside, extinguishing his pipe, and the two were met in the entryway by the old essence-weaver Farrow. Tristan glanced between the older man and the young boy who escorted them, noting the similarity in their faces. Ah, he thought. The similar naming scheme also gave it away. This boy is related to the essence-weaver, somehow.

  Sorcerer Farrow smiled and bowed slightly, “Welcome to my humble abode. Now, let us see what we have available. You sought spell books, yes?”

  “Correct,” Tristan stated.

  Obadai cleared his throat, “Anything spare you have to give.”

  “Well, sadly I am the only essence-weaver in Priam’s Overwatch. The younger ones headed off for that essence-weaver school on Yustat. The allure of knowledge was great.” He chuckled as he walked over to a bookshelf and began pulling books out, setting them on a small table. “What they fail to realize is that you can learn just as much from a good book as you can from an in-person instructor.”

  “In my experience,” Obadai stated, “teaching new essence-weavers from spell books is only good at the higher Orders. Starting out, they should not rely on primers, despite the prevalence of their production and sale.”

  Tristan frowned, “I learned from primers, mostly.”

  Obadai glanced at him, “I think you had good primers. Bought them from Archon Matteo Farsight, yes? He probably got you good primers.”

  Sorcerer Farrow shook his head, “Archons. My word, you have socialized with some powerful essence-weavers. There is maybe one Archon in every ten-thousand people.”

  That shocked Tristan, and he glanced at Obadai who nodded curtly confirming the information. And I’ve met two, Tristan thought.

  Farrow kept talking, “But Elves are one of the exceptions. They tend to be very powerful essence-weavers, if less capable combatants.” He paused in his book search to glance at Tristan, “And yet you charged a demon lord outright. Curious.”

  “I’m only a mage,” Tristan replied. “My grandfather taught me to master the basics before moving on. I have the essence capacity for Second Order and was going to start learning some spells of that classification.”

  Obadai rolled his eyes, “Typical. Hurvun would be like that. I disagree with him, Tristan, as a single, high-Order spell can end most fights before they begin.”

  Farrow chuckled, “I agree with this Hurvun. The basics should be well-mastered before moving on.” He finished removing items from the bookshelf and rattled off the contents, “I’ve got a spell book for flora, water elementalism, rejuvenation, hexes, earth elementalism, communication, protection, and fortune – but good luck using that spell type. It is very finnicky.” He patted the pile of books. “All but the fortune and hexes spell types go up to Sixth Order. Those two only go up to Second Order – a parting gift from a traveling merchant I helped years ago.”

  Tristan looked at the pile of books and felt a sense of excitement rush through him. “Thank you,” he said as he met the Sorcerer’s gaze. “This is…more than I expected!” he tapped Felicity who had been laying flat on his head, “Hey, store this stuff.”

  “Sorry?” the Sorcerer asked.

  Felicity sighed and reached her hand down, moving all the books to her storage space. “I’m booored, Tristan. I want to go cause some mischief!”

  The Sorcerer just looked at Tristan quizzically, then shook his head. “Well…thank you for saving our town. Any advice for closing rifts like that in the future?”

  Obadai slid a bit of parchment over to the man, “This spell should work on any sized Incursion point. I wrote it for Fifth Order, which I trust you are capable of.” He glanced at Tristan, “Shall we continue our travel?”

  Tristan nodded and bowed to the older man, “Thank you for these books.” He turned and left glancing at the young boy who had shown them to their destinations. “And thank you, child. Please, return to the headsman and convey our thanks; but we must depart.”

  The boy frowned, “Aww, we were going to have a feast to celebrate the heroes!”

  Tristan looked at Obadai who shrugged, “We could stay in town for a feast. But it is another chance for those people to find you.” He was referring to the assassins, of course, and Tristan picked up on that instantly.

  “No, we aren’t risking innocents getting hurt on our behalf.” He looked down to the boy, “Sorry, lad. We will have to pass on the feast.” Re-mounting Onyx, Obadai mounted Midnight behind him, and the two set off to leave town from the southern road.

  Tristan poked Felicity gently, “Go ahead and cause some mischief – but catch up! And don’t get seen!”

  She grinned and jumped from his head, “I’m going to cause so much chaos!”

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  The Archon looked at Tristan with a single eyebrow raised quizzically as he lit up his pipe once more. “I assume you sent your fairy dragon companion – Felicity, yes?”

  “Correct,” Tristan replied.

  “To cause mischief.” Obadai chuckled and shook his head, “Did you also send her into King Arinclex’s vault to pee on paintings?”

  “No, just to steal some treasure. The peeing on paintings was her idea.”

  The Archon looked at Tristan aghast, “You instructed your companion to steal from the crown? Granted, I don’t work for him anymore – but still, that was brash.”

  Tristan shrugged, “It was only a bit of treasure. And it’s not like the king would miss it. Plus, it made you think a fairy dragon was on the loose; meaning I could chase it down-”

  Obadai cracked a smile, “Ah…a solid plan. Giving yourself the means to be gone for long spans of time chasing this fairy dragon you have already established as being difficult to track and kill.” He took a puff of his pipe as the two left the town proper and began to traverse the lowlands at a slow, gradual descent. “I understand. Once more, showing wisdom beyond your years.”

  Tristan turned in the saddle, “Time to hold up your end of the bargain.”

  “Oh?”

  “Teach me some spells.”

  Obadai smiled softly as he plucked the pipe from his mouth, “What do you wish to start with?”

  “What are you good at?” Tristan countered.

  “Well, revival, necromancy, and divination, seeing as I can do those up to Thirteenth Order thanks to my bloodline and current essence capacity. Teleportation, communication, protection, realmwalking, and fire elementalism.”

  “Looks like fire elementalism. The First Order spells, first,” Tristan said. He directed his speech to Onyx and Midnight, “No bucking, and just keep going ahead. It might get warm, but I promise you won’t be hurt.” The two horses snorted and tossed their manes slightly: seemingly understanding Tristan’s desire.

  The Archon nodded, “Well, first off, I know you know Dragon’s Tongue, so that covers one issue as elementalism best responds to that language. I am not fluent in that language, and so I only have the memorized phrases for the spells. What Order?”

  “First,” Tristan stated. “I want to get used t-”

  Obadai waved the words away like smoke from his pipe, “Yes, yes. You want to master the basics. I disagree, but if you insist, we shall proceed with First Order spells of the fire elementalism spell type.” He cleared his throat and held up his index finger, “Fire elementalism is less essence-intensive in warm environments, and in cold environments costs more essence.”

  “And the backlash?” Tristan asked.

  The Archon smiled, “Yes…that.” He tapped out his wood chips from the pipe onto the road and began tapping down more. “Well, for offensive spells, you will experience heat that can burn your flesh. Defensive backlash is that the temperature around you will increase and can even ignite flammable objects like dry grassland. For control spells, you will become parched.”

  Obadai held up his index, middle, and ring fingers; “I’ll teach you two control spells, one defensive, and one offensive. The first control spell is simply called Extinguish Flame. It does what it describes. Handy to learn before we have you lobbing around spheres of flame.”

  Trsitan nodded enthusiastically, “Great, let’s start!”

  Obadai put his into the corner of his mouth so both his hands were free. “First, you interlace your fingers like this.” He faced both palms away from his chest. “Then, you bend the fingers into claws.” He bent his fingers as he described. “Last, you interlace them to make a lattice.”

  Tristan followed the steps, “This is like Melt Ice – an ice elementalism control spell – but the palms are reversed. Facing out instead of in.”

  “Interesting,” Obadai muttered. “Water elementalism is normally associated with being the opposite of fire elementalism, but I am curious if ice elementalism is similarly diametrically opposed. In either circumstance. The spell phrase is as follows: Ich befehle dir, Flamme und Hitze, zu verschwinden. Kehrt zurück in die Asche, aus der ihr gekommen seid.” (I order you, flame and heat, to recede to nothing. Return to the ash from whence you came).

  Tristan repeated the spell a few times; his mastery of the language enabling him to rapidly memorize it. “May I try it on your pipe?”

  Obadai nodded and held his pipe out, lighting it.

  Tristan spun his essence crucible and felt the powerful energy surge through him. He directed it into the lattice and focused his gaze on the pipe as he repeated the spell phrase. He saw the slight embers snuffed out in an instant, and grinned. “Done!” He did feel a little thirsty after performing the spell, but swallowing his saliva seemed to help deal with the sensation.

  Obadai nodded, “Good. Now relight it. Next spell. Ignite Flame. Also in the control category. Single hand.” He held his index finger upright, curled his fingers into the palm, and the thumb wrapped around the outside edge of the knuckles. “This will not create flames that are far away from you – but it will enable you to light objects you touch with the finger once the spell is active. The spell phrase: Entzünde und lodere, finde ein Zuhause auf meiner Haut und verbrenne alles, was ich berühre.” (Ignite and blaze, finding a home upon my skin, and burn all that I touch).

  Tristan repeated the gesture and the spell phrase. He felt the essence race up his channels and sent a surge of heat through his body that was soothing and comforting, like when he sat in front of the fireplace on a cold evening back at the family estate. He could feel the heat in the fingertip, and held it out to the Archon, who lit his pipe from the outstretched appendage. “That was easy,” he said. Letting the essence fade away, his finger cooled.

  Once more, he felt very thirsty, and this time he reached around before realizing that he had no canteen. Felicity had clearcool elixirs, and that was about it.

  Obadai chuckled, “Thirsty?”

  Tristan nodded, “Yes. Do-”

  Obadai held out a canteen, “Yes. I do have one.” Tristan took a swig while Obadai puffed on his pipe. “Two more spells,” he stated as Tristan wiped his lips and handed the canteen back to him. “Heat Shield is the defensive one, and almost always a prerequisite before casting offensive spells in the fire elementalism category.”

  He held up his palm towards Tristan, all his fingers and the thumb together, and placed it over the center of his chest, palm touching his breast. “Simple spell gesture, as most combat-focused elementalism spells tend to be. The spell phrase is: Ich rufe eine Barriere herbei, die vor Flammen und Hitze schützt.” (I summon forth a barrier to protect from flame and heat).

  Tristan repeated the gesture and spell phrase, spinning his crucible and pushing the flow of energy to his hand as he did so. A small film of red seemed to cover his body, and as he held his hand up, he saw it bubble slightly like hot water. “That’s it?”

  “Yes,” Obadai replied. “Oh, and you may want to-”

  Tristan rolled from the saddle as Onyx bucked him back. He fell on his ass and let out a grunt of pain as Onyx trotted away, looked back at Tristan, and shook his head before circling back.

  Obadai laughed, “I did tell you that the backlash for defense spells of this spell type cause the ambient temperature to increase drastically. That’s on you.”

  Tristan got up, rubbing his sore bottom, and nodded, “Right.” He let the essence fueling the spell fade and saw the slight coating over his body vanish. “I don’t think I need that spell before using offensive spells, since I drank fire dragon blood.”

  Obadai took a draw on his pipe, “Right, I forgot about that. You dragonslayers get the resistance of the dragons whose blood you drink, correct?”

  “Yes,” Tristan said. Going over to Onyx, he whispered, “Sorry boy, that was my bad. I deserved to be bucked. It won’t happen again.”

  Onyx snorted but allowed Tristan to re-mount and join Obadai on the road once more. Felicity flew over and landed on Tristan’s head, cackling. “I saw that! I am never letting you live that down! It was hilarious.”

  Tristan frowned, “Yes, and now my ass hurts.”

  “Ah, Felicity must be back if you are talking to yourself,” Obadai calmly said.

  Felicity dropped her invisibility and began making paw-claw biscuits on Tristan’s head. “Yep! I did some amazing pranks. First, I found some fishermen and swapped their fish for hay! Then, I scattered the fish in a field! Oh, and I found some unattended knick-knacks that I nicked from unattended niches.” She giggled at her wordplay.

  Obadai shook his head, “Mischievous creatures. Well, last spell for First Order fire elementalism – Fireball.” He held his hand out in front of him, palm up, at chest height, tucking the thumb and pinky into the palm, and holding the other three fingers out in front of himself.

  “This will create a sphere of flame that grows the more essence you use. It has a one-hundred-foot range before it fizzles out to nothingness. It will not pierce, but will splash; a slight impact, but the primary focus is to ignite targets and set them ablaze – which you can then use other, higher Order spells to amplify, cause to spread, cause to explode – all manner of effects. But igniting targets is the starting point.”

  Tristan nodded and copied the spell gesture, “The spell phrase?”

  “Oh, do keep in mind, when you do this, it won’t increase the ambient temperature, but it will cause you to become burned as if you held your hand too close to a flame. Given your consumption of fire dragon blood and apparent resistance from that, I would not be too concerned. And make sure you aim up once you have the spell ready to fling. Once you stop pushing essence into the sphere, it will launch in the direction your middle finger points while making the spell gesture.”

  He cleared his throat and incanted the spell phrase. Tristan slowly followed, word by word. “Ich beschw?re die Wut von Hitze und Flamme: Bilde einen Blitz, der mein Ziel verbrennt und versengt.” (I summon forth the rage of heat and flame: form a bolt that will burn and sear my target).

  He spun his essence crucible as he said the words, and felt the energy surge through his channels, to his fingers, and saw a crackling, crimson sphere of flame start the size of a marble before slowly growing. As he watched, fascinated, he saw it shift to a silver color as the sparks of crimson, gold, black, and icy blue all seemed to fight for dominance as a secondary hue. As it grew to be the size of a bucket, the gold seemed to win out and color the sphere. Pointing his palm up, he made sure his middle finger was pointed at the skies – and stopped the flow of essence.

  The golden sphere shot up into the sky, and the heat from the sphere seemed to burn and boil the very air as it raced up before fizzling out. “I just did a fire spell,” Tristan whispered to himself. Pulling his hand down, he felt like his hand had been held over a candle – not directly touching, but close enough to feel the heat.

  “Impressive,” Obadai stated. “Your base essence is silver, and yet you had other hues vying for dominance. Must be a side effect of your consumption of dragon essence crucibles.”

  Tristan glanced up at an impressed looking Felicity. “What do you think?” he asked her.

  She chuckled, “Don’t let The Matriarch see you doing that in the Fey Realm.”

  The two shared a slight chuckle as the day continued onward, and the trio continued their travel; Tristan practicing all the spells in turn, dismounting as necessary for Heat Shield. By the time evening came upon them and they diverted course, he had handily memorized the four First Order spells.

  “Thank you, Obadai,” he said as they got off the road and found a small dell in the landscape.

  “You are welcome. I look forward to your continued growth.”