Abigail Ch 7 (Patreon)

Who’s going to train you now, Abigail?

Fairfield District, Tullents City

Earthday, Seventh Month, the year of King Bastian 347

THE TWIN BATTLE mages from the night before were sitting in the audience, and both jumped to their feet, startled by the voice directly over their shoulders. The brother cast some form of golden shield between himself and the man standing there, while the sister unsheathed her broken sword, enveloping it in a yellow shimmer that sparked arcs of lightning.

Abigail marvelled to see the missing part of the sword light up with magic as if it were still whole.

The red-headed, curly haired woman snapped, “How many times must we tell you, Fawler? It’s rude to suddenly appear out of nowhere!”

Fawler, the man with a mole by his nose who’d opened the doors so dramatically the night before, looked down on the woman with a smirk. “I always keep it in mind, Miss Dapperly.”

“Can we get back to the matter at hand?” Laurance demanded. “What is happening here, Master Ulrik? What is she even touching?”

Abigail snatched her hand away from the orb, and the light faded. In a small voice, she guessed, “You c-can’t see it, c-can you?”

“I can.” Master Ulrik squeezed her shoulder. “But only because I am the Tullent's Mages Guild Master and bound to the orbs. ”

He looked over each of the mages in attendance. “You might be wondering why I summoned you all here today, masters of your field. It wasn’t just to take on a prospective student. I’d like to introduce you to the first of her kind in over a hundred years: a fourth-tier mage with a gift for divine magic.”

Too many people spoke at once for Abigail to make out the particulars, but she saw Jess and Olivia smiling up at her.

“You may come to me with questions after the ceremony,” Master Ulrik addressed the room. He turned a sharp eye on Fawler. “That means you have to take her.”

Fawler shrugged. “A deal’s a deal, Hans, but I’m still bringing her back for evaluation. If she doesn’t pass, I hope you’ll reconsider.”

Abigail couldn’t keep the plea from her voice. “D-do I have to...”

Master Ulrik sighed. “Yes, Abigail. Damien Fawler is the only mage I know who’s studied your magic — or has any sort of affinity. He’s your best hope at mastering your powers.”

Master Fawler came closer, and Abigail tried not to stare at the beauty mark beside his nose. Master Ulrik handed Abigail the second bottle of enchanted water. Up close, she could see weird etchings in the glass where the purple mist concentrated. It looked like a tulip carved between a decrescent and crescent moon.

“Do you swear to allow the Tullents Mages Guild to bind you as an apprentice mage, to guide you in the law of magic, to keep you until you become a journeyman?” Master Ulrik asked. “Do you swear to follow our guild and to accept a member of the guild as your master?”

She looked at the bottle, then at Fawler. Did she really care how unpleasant her master was, as long as she had any guild master at all?

“I so swear.” She accepted and took a swig.

Master Ulrik turned to Fawler and repeated, “Will you drink from the Guild Glass, accepting Abigail into the Mages Guild and accepting her as your student?”

“If I must.” Fawler sighed, picked up the bottle and downed the rest.

Abigail didn’t know what to expect, but her new master abruptly leaving wasn’t it. He put the bottle down on the table, faced Master Ulrik, and announced, “I’ll pick her up tomorrow.”

Then he left.

Just walked right out.

Nobody stopped him, and there was obvious approval from her friends among the adults when the door closed behind him.