I was excited. I didn't care about the motivation that made Oleg want to teach me. Whether he wanted to see my disappointment or hoped for a tasty dinner—none of it mattered to me. Honestly? I didn't care as long as I could give it a try.
"Alright, let's start with the basics," Oleg began. "If you have the right predispositions, you can become one of two things: a warrior or a mage."
Oleg certainly didn't look like a mage...
"Why only one of those two?" I asked, curious.
"Don't interrupt me, boy." He continued, "You can use energy either externally or internally. There's nothing in between."
"And what are you?" I asked.
"A warrior," he replied, flexing his muscles. "But when I was younger, I wanted to be a mage, which is why I know two spells."
"Will you show them to me?"
"I can't use them, because I'm a warrior," he said, slightly irritated. "Are you listening to me?"
Ah, right, I got myself a magic theory expert.
"So how am I supposed to learn them?"
"I'll sing you the incantation, and you repeat it," he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
This giant is going to sing for me? I couldn't hold back my laughter.
"What's the spell?"
"Why do you want to know, when you'll fail anyway?"
"Fine..." I said, a little offended. "Let's go."
He started, though I wouldn't call it singing. He was off-key, like he was trying to belt out a nightmare.
"The tone doesn't matter," he concluded. "The key is the right tempo and articulation."
"Okay, I'm starting."
"Wait."
"What now?"
"I doubt it'll work," he added cautiously. "But just in case, stretch your dominant hand out toward the forest."
"Why?"
"Just do it."
I stretched my hand toward the nearest tree and started the incantation. I tried to match Oleg's tempo and style of speaking as best as I could. Slowly, from syllable to syllable, I went through the spell. It took about six seconds.
The moment I spoke the last syllable, my vision blurred, and a wave of weakness washed over me. I sank into darkness...
"What?" I yelled, confused. "Where am I?"
"Congratulations," said Left, peeling the skin off my rabbit.
I was lying on the ground at the hunters' camp. I was in shock. I didn't remember what had happened in the last few minutes. I felt as drained as if I had spent the whole day working in the field with Mark.
"What happened?" I asked, trying to sit up.
"Take it easy," Left said, placing a hand on my chest. "You won't be able to move for a few minutes."
"Why?"
"Look," he pointed to the nearest tree.
I turned my head and looked at the place Left was pointing to. There was a hole in the tree trunk, the size of a fist. It didn't go all the way through, but it was impressive.
"Did I...?" I asked, stunned. "Was that me?"
"Yeah, you did it."
"Look at our giant," Tom added.
Oleg was sitting stiffly by the fire, grilling a rabbit. His gaze was blank. Is this how the eyes of someone look who has spent their whole life dreaming of being someone else but didn't have the predisposition? Do I see glimpses of envy... or sadness in his eyes?
"Thank you, Oleg," I said gratefully. "If it weren't for you, I wouldn't have been able to do it..."
"We're even," he muttered, picking up the rabbit.
"Wait, don't eat yet."
All eyes were on me.
"I said there'd be something extra if I was satisfied." I motioned toward my bag. "Oleg, inside is my gift for you."
The giant looked at me, raised an eyebrow, then stood up and walked toward the backpack.
"A stone?" he asked, pulling his hand out of the bag.
"Lick it."
"Is this...?" he started, staring at the object.
"Yes, it's salt," I replied. "Enjoy."
Another fifteen minutes passed in silence, interrupted only by the sound of the hunters eating. I had a moment to think about a few things. Why does magic require an incantation? Why am I able to use magic if it's mostly inborn? Why do I feel so exhausted after one spell? What was that spell? Questions piled up in my head, but I knew I had to approach them calmly. Maybe I could still get some more information from them.
When they finished eating the stew, I was able to sit down on a log, which served as a bench.
"Our little princess feeling better?" Right asked.
"Yeah, though I still feel weak."
"I'm not surprised," Dawid said. "Six-year-olds don't use magic."
"Why not?"
"Because they can't repeat a complex incantation?" Right replied.
Those chants are nothing compared to the complex formulas I hammered out in one evening before a session.
"The training of young mages starts at ten," Left added.
"At the earliest," Right complemented. "On average, it's twelve."
"So late?"
"That's when you can determine if a child is capable of using magic," Dawid continued. "You don't make every child you meet recite a spell."
Does that mean I'm four years ahead of typical mages these days? I need a proper teacher...
"Uh-huh," I said, confused.
"Uh-huh? That's all you have to say?" Oleg got annoyed. "Do you realize how lucky you are?"
"Sorry, I didn't know..."
"You're unlucky you weren't born thirty years earlier," Oleg said sadly.
At these words, the others stared blankly at the ground.
"Why?"
"War, boy, war..." Dawid replied.
I remember Mark mentioning something about a war in the west, twenty years ago.
"You're not likely to find a mentor. There aren't as many mages as there used to be."
"Then I'll teach myself," I said, believing my words.
"Do that, practice and hard work are the foundation of magic," Oleg said. "When you turn twelve, go to the city. They'll determine your affinities."
"Affinities?"
"Boy, I'm not an expert on this to explain it to you," Oleg replied. "I'm just an ordinary warrior..."
After another hour, I had regained enough strength to head back to the village.
"Ball!" Oleg called from a distance. "Come tomorrow, and I'll teach you the incantation for the second spell."
"Okay!"
Although I was still a little tired, I felt confident. It's hard to express in words how excited I was. I have a talent for magic, and I already have my first spell. Unfortunately, in the heat of the moment, I forgot to ask what it was called.
As for Oleg, I liked him. He's an example of someone who creates a tough shell around themselves, but deep inside, there are still warm feelings.