Cyran tried to hide the surprise in his voice, "you were friends with my father?"
'He never spoke of Abus, I would have surely remembered him describing such a colourful person.'
"Yes, I was," Abus' countenance regained his earlier warmth, as though his sudden lapse had become a figment of his imagination, "no doubt he has told you many a story about one as great as I." He strut about with all the confidence of a peacock displaying its plumage.
"Actually, no. He was very private about his time as an adventurer. This whole time I had thought he did it by himself,"
Abus turned, indignation plain on his face, "BY HIMSELF?! You are a few bolts short of a thunderstorm if you think he could have pulled off half of the things he did without me! The nerve!" Suddenly catching himself by his own outburst, he cleared his throat and started to fuss over his clothing, "well, that would all be a story for another time. Get those abominations for boots on and be ready to leave, I just have something to take care of."
Suddenly finding himself in the reality of not knowing much about his father, Cyran complied and began to gather his things with a rather sour expression. He wished he could have asked his father all about those days and who Abus was and more, yet now the opportunity was lost forever. The thought constantly nagged at him, threatening to drag him into a spiral of depression.
'I can weep later, mother and Arlen could still be out there.'
Even though the burned out house provided no cover, the night air still seemed to feel a little more crisp outside. The moonlight once again bathed the remains of the village in a ghostly silvery blue light. This only highlighted how still everything was; how lifeless. Nothing moved, as though frozen. Not even the grass seemed to bend. Cyran searched around for the mage and eventually found him standing in front of his fathers grave. The tall jester laid a solemn hand upon the hilt of the katana which emitted a soft glow that grew in brightness. Cyran watched as an icy streak spiralled down the blade and sunk into the earth. Frost spread out over the burial mound and entombed the former sentinel in a case of solid ice. The light from Abus' hand pulsed and icy roses of the most brilliant sapphire bloomed from the mound, the frigid air casting a sullen mist around his splendorous work.
Abus removed his hand and stepped back. The crackling of settling ice was followed by a moment of silence until the mage, hung his head and slowly turned. "Goodbye, old friend, this is all I can do for you now" he said despondently. Spotting Cyran, he smiled. "Don't mind me, I'm just keeping a promise."
Until the selection tournament and the night of the attack, Cyran had never seen magic and even then he had only seen it used for destruction, sowing the seeds of his hatred for it. Yet the scene before him brought forth tears. His father would be immortalised within beautiful magic. Abus stepped forward and patted Cyran on the shoulder steadying him, his other hand forming runes which formed a gate behind them. Cyran glumly shuffled through it to find himself inside a long hallway. Gaudy furniture lined either side with rich paintings adorning the walls. The subject of most of them looked to be a single man, wielding the elements to such a magnificent degree that he cut waves of enemies down with a single wave of his hand.
"Beautiful, isn't it? A bit embellished I must say, but I did wake up on the right side of bed that morning. As well as a properly balanced breakfast," Abus said as he stepped through his warp gate, gazing at the painting as though it were a long lost lover. "You will notice of course, by the extravagantly stylish decor, that you are in fact in my home so please, no crying on the carpet."
Cyran gave the mage a queer look, his hands balling into fists at his side, "so we ran all that way to the village when we could have teleported right there? We could have got there in time to actually DO something!"
Abus, unflinching, reached out and flicked the Cyran's forehead, "do pipe down. No shouting in my house. I said the magic there prevents travel IN. I never said anything about getting OUT, young master Crayon. If I couldn't at least do that much then I wouldn't be worthy of my title as grand mage of Movar!"
Releasing his balled fists, Cyran glowered at the floor, not content with the mage's answer. Following Abus through the house, they eventually came to a particularly heavy set looking door. Upon closer look, Cyran found that it was just a slab with no keyhole or handle in sight. As though sensing his dilemma, Abus placed a hand upon the door. As though his hand had ignited gunpowder, lines of the most brilliant white began to fizz and etch an intricate design into the slab.
The mage then stepped back and beckoned for Cyran to open the door. The sturdy looking door would need a powerful push to open it so Cyran charged at it, guiding his shoulder to the side he guessed was the opening edge. Like a cat avoiding his touch, the door parted just enough to let the charging bull through without touching him. It moved with so much speed that Cyran couldn't adjust his charge. Instead, he tripped and crashed into the large room.
Abus walked through, clapping and guffawing as he looked down at the boy sprawled out on the floor, "honestly, that will never get old for as long as I shall live! You should have seen your face! Hahahaha you were like, whooaaaa!"
Cyran got up and dusted himself off, failing to see the joke. Were it not for his curiosity about the door, he would have been much more foul tempered. "So what is this room?" Cyran spoke, eager to change the subject.
"This is the room I use when dealing with particularly volatile magic. It is highly reinforced with protection magic that I performed myself. It should be able to withstand tier 4 spells, and the occasional awakening." Abus walked to a table with a cloth which he grabbed with one hand and flung off, sending dust motes high into the air.
"What do you mean 'occasional awakening'?" Cyran replied.
"Well, it isn't unheard of for some individuals to be unable to handle the process and explode," the mage said flatly.
"Wait, EXPLO-"
"Right then! Lets get started shall we!" Abus flourished his hand and the table slid towards Cyran. Before Cyran could dodge, a chair swept his legs from under him, having him seated just as the table slowed and placed itself in front of him. He tried to stand but found that his feet would not move. The wood of the chair had grown another twining branch that had clamped around his feet that his grip just could not budge.
"It's all rather simple really," Abus continued, "just place your hands on the table and focus on your breathing. I will do the rest." He approached the table and placed an orb on the table. The contents looked like clouds, constantly whirring and shifting through and unseen breeze.
Cyran was sweating, and totally at the mercy of this hideously dressed madman. He had no choice but to trust the man his father had been friends with and do as he asked. The way he saw it, with everything that had happened recently, exploding wouldn't be a bad way to go. He placed his hands on the table and endeavoured to slow his breathing down. Abus circled him until he was directly behind Cyran where he reached out and placed a palm on his back.
Warmth slowly built up from Abus' hand whilst Cyran focused on the orb in front of him. That warmth from his back also began to emanate from his own hands upon the table. Cyran could see the dust in the air gliding down in an attempt to settle onto the table only to be shoved away by an unseen force. The clouds in the orb began to condense in the centre and, from there, expanded outwards, their colour shifting. The heat grew in strength until it was almost unbearable. Cyran clamped his eyes shut and grit his teeth, willing his endurance to hold.
"There we are, all finished," Abus announced as the heat vanished. The tension dispersed. The chair Cyran sat in eased, as though to allow Cyran to sink into a more comfortable position, releasing his legs at the same time.
Cyran opened his eyes, the fuzzy world again focussing into clarity. The orb was flashing with a pure light blue colour, as though a thunderstorm were brewing within the glass confines.
Cyran picked up the orb and held it up, scrutinising every inch, "so what does this mean?"
"The colour? No idea, never seen it before. It would, however make a great scarf!" Abus' head appeared next to Cyran's showering the orb with his own investigative glares. "I was right all along, of course. You are a mage awakened! Congratulations!" Abus accentuated this news with more finger gun explosions in the air. "And with that, I have a proposition for you if you'd like to hear it,"
"A proposition? What?" Cyran's intrigue had been piqued.
"You are going to need to learn how to use this gift and I have no time to play babysitter to one so rudely dressed. I do, however, have connections to an academy that could teach you all you need to know." Abus took a seat at the table sipping on a hot drink that Cyran knew was not there before.
"My father has died, his killers roam free and my family gone. Yet you want me to simply go to school?! I have to go find them so why would I do that?!"
Abus' shrewd mismatched eyes shone with a dangerous glint from beneath his hat as he sipped his drink. He gently placed the cup on the table and leaned forward, flashing a toothy grin that made Cyran uncomfortable.
"Because you are weak."