Originally published on gohavok.com.
Hanu flattened the parchment on the grass and reviewed his handwritten spell for the final time. Proper exit condition for the main loop? Check. Clearly defined energy conversions? Check. Timeout in case of emergency? Of course.
“This is it,” he said.
The maple trees surrounding the clearing rustled in response. Birds above exchanged chirps. Rabbits darted through the thick grass in a game of chase, a dandelion exploding into white as they passed. A curious squirrel watched Hanu from atop a root, munching on a nut.
“Shoo!” Hanu shouted. “You don’t want to be around for this.”
Hanu pulled a thick tome from the old leather bag resting in the grass behind him. He flipped to the last of a dozen bookmarks. Following a diagram at the center, he removed a piece of wire from his pocket. He wrapped one end gently around his forearm and poked the other through the corner of the parchment.
“Compilio,” he whispered.
A jolt of electricity circled his forearm.
Hanu let out a sigh of relief. It works.
“We’ll see who’s too young for magic now,” he said to himself as he untied the wire. He stowed the book, spell, and wire in his bag then sat cross-legged in the middle of the clearing, palms down so that the tall grass brushed his fingertips.
“Scatter!” he shouted at the squirrel who continued to watch him. “Trust me, you’ll want to give me some space.”
Hanu leaned back and turned his gaze to the Giant Teeth Mountains beyond the forest. They had a particular way of calming him. The tallest of the mountains had an irregularly shaped peak, as if a god had taken a bite out of it. Hanu liked to imagine himself moving there. He would use magic to build a cabin in the middle of the toothy gap. It tugged at him in a way he couldn’t explain.
Deep breaths. Ten of them.
“I will learn,” Hanu muttered.
His heart pounded. His hands trembled.
Another deep breath. The name of the spell had to be spoken clearly.
“Sustained growth.”
Life flooded into him. The grass turned brown under his folded legs. Then black. The darkness spread.
Hanu smiled and closed his eyes.
Energy and euphoria filled him. He could accomplish anything with this power. And it only grew stronger.
Hanu opened his eyes. Dandelions shriveled and fell into the circle of death. It continued to grow.
And grow.
Soon, it reached the edges of the clearing. Alarm replaced ecstasy. How long had the spell been going? He counted in his mind.
Ten seconds. The darkness reached the trees.
Thirty. Their leaves turned brown like autumn. Then black. A shower of ashes settled on Hanu’s head.
One hundred. The limbs cracked and crumbled.
Panic seized Hanu.
It should have triggered a timeout!
He ripped the spell from his bag and skimmed to the exit conditions. His stomach sank.
“If a timeout occurs and the energy quota is reached,” he breathed.
It should say “or” you idiot!
Thick branches fell, shattering into a thousand pieces all around him.
Surely the spell had exceeded the energy quota by now. Both conditions should have ended it minutes ago.
Hanu resisted the urge to crumple the spell and flipped it over to check his calculations. He read it three times before he spotted it. A miscalculation in the unit conversions.
He’d multiplied by six over one instead of one over six.
Thirty-six. The spell was off by a factor of thirty-six.
Animals fled. The soil dried and cracked. Trees fell. Energy continued to pour into Hanu. Too much energy. A headache pounded against his skull. His body trembled, every part of him burning as if in contact with hot coals. He couldn’t take it. A scream tore from his lungs…
A wizard and his apprentice found the young man curled in a ball, surrounded by a sea of black. The wizard would have sensed that level of magical energy tens of leagues away, but at just a few miles, it had blazed like a beacon. It’s no coincidence, so close to the mountain.
“I thought it was the Delvers for certain,” the apprentice said. “But he’s barely more than a child. Serves him right, dabbling in arts he doesn’t understand.”
The wizard knelt and felt for a pulse. It was faint but steady.
“He will live,” he said. “He must have a strong pool within him.”
Stronger than either of us. He scooped up the young man and cradled him against his chest.
They made their way back through the piles of ashes and dried-out animal bones. The empty sky gave the moist air an unnatural, suffocating feeing.
They soon reached the edge of a lonely village. Once, it had been surrounded by trees. Now it was an oasis amid a sea of flat destruction.
The boy stirred and opened his eyes. “I’m sorry.”
“Without our wards, this village would be gone too,” the apprentice said, his voice low and hard.
The wizard spoke in a more calming voice. “You must learn your limits. We may be able to help.”
The apprentice scowled. “I say we leave him to make his own mistakes. He’s a danger to anyone near him.”
As they waited for the guard to open the village gate, the wizard’s gaze traveled to the Giant Teeth Mountains. They landed on the highest peak, its missing chunk yawning to the open sky.
He sighed and closed his eyes. No, he would not leave anyone else to suffer that fate. That which rested within the mountain must have drawn the boy. He will need my guidance if he is to have any hope of surviving the encounter.
The gate opened, and the party made its way inside.
“What happens now?” the boy asked in a shaky voice. “Will I be punished?”
“You will have the night to recover,” the wizard instructed. “In the morning, you begin your training. You must learn to restore, not destroy.”
