The Weight of Magic: A Progression Fantasy Epic (Restriction Book 1), page 1
WEIGHT OF MAGIC
©2023 DK Holmberg
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ALSO IN SERIES
The Weight of Magic
The Shades of Magic
Contents
ALSO IN SERIES
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Thank you for reading The Weight of Magic
Chapter 1
THE TEMPLE RUINS
Torian had always found the ruins of the ancient temple to be somewhat peaceful, something that he knew strange given that it was a place of destruction from the war that had raged through these lands long ago. In the generations that had passed, most of the remnants of the war had been cleared and repaired, including his town of Sarot, so that little of the days of the split of the Siansaal Empire remained. Other than the temple ruins.
“Pay attention, Torian,” Gaspel whispered. “The temple might be gone, but you should still honor the Saith.”
Torian looked over to his instructor. Gaspel had been in Sarot, teaching at the school for the last year and had been generally kind to him, something that Torian could not claim about all of his instructors. Gaspel hadn’t reached the same level of frustration at his lack of progress the way so many of the others who came in from the university in Corsalt had, but his experience suggested that would come in time.
“I’m paying attention. I’ve heard this speech a few times.” And he didn’t want to admit that he struggled with his faith in the Saith.
Willa, the most tenured instructor and the only one who claimed to have come from Sarot herself, stood not far from him and several other students—including Torian’s younger sister Liana—while talking about the ways that the empire had once celebrated the god in this temple.
“It’s still polite to pay attention to your instructors,” Gaspel chided, his appraising look telling Torian that he somehow knew about Torian’s lack of faith.
Torian knew better than to argue, especially with Gaspel. He had been generally patient with him, and under Gaspel’s guidance, Torian had managed to learn a few more of the first-tier patterns that he had not known before. At least, he had learned the technique of them, even if he had not yet managed to successfully use them.
Dary, the younger boy of significant potential, shot Torian an irritated look. He was standing close to Willa and shifting his feet with just as much irritation as Torian had. Probably more, Torian decided, as Dary really had no interest in the academic side of school. All he wanted was to learn how to use his patterns, summon power that he felt was his right as a budding sahir, and probably head off to the university.
The local sahir school taught students to reach the power of the Saith that fueled the magic of the world: light, dark, air, water, earth, cold, and metal. Each of the patterns they learned helped to harness one aspect of that energy. When—and if—a student mastered the primary patterns, they progressed to learn additional tiers of patterns. If someone could master the third tier, they could train at the university in Corsalt.
That had always been Torian’s dream—even though he knew it unrealistic. Even if he never went to the university, he’d love to be able to call himself a sahir, but that took mastery of the first tier, something Torian still hadn’t achieved.
“I’d like for each of you to find me a marking of the empire,” Willa said.
Torian had missed most of her speech, having let his mind wander as he looked around the ruins. Most of the stone here came from toppled walls that had once towered over this land. The school had drawings of what the temple had once looked like, and even seeing those drawings depicting it, it was difficult for Torian to visualize what it must have been like. The temple would have been impressive. Even in its ruined state, it was still impressive. That was part of the reason that he enjoyed coming here.
Not the only reason, though. He often felt the power of this place.
There were times when he thought he imagined it. The Siansaal Empire had known different kinds of power than the nation of Navarin did, even having rumors of sahir so powerful they were called by another term—valsahir. Navarin had no valsahir these days, though it trained plenty of sahir of various potential. Torian suspected the stories of the valsahir were just that—stories.
“Be careful as you look through here,” Torian said to Liana as she started past him.
She was a few years younger than him and looked like a younger version of their mother, with the same black hair, round face, and quick smile. Liana rarely offered that smile to Torian, though.
“I’m not as accident-prone as you think,” she snapped but did so keeping her voice down, glancing anxiously over to Dary and another one of the students who often stayed near him, a girl named Eliza who shared Dary’s potential, along with his lack of interest in actually studying. “You don’t have to watch over me.”
“I’m not watching over you.” Torian looked around briefly and realized that he was the only one, other than Liana because he had delayed her, who had not started off to go and look for markers of the empire like Willa had asked. Gaspel was talking to Willa, motioning to a pile of stone and asking some questions that Willa seemed irritated to be answering, her wrinkled lips pursed in a frown. “I’m just—”
“You’re doing what you always do. Just because we lost Leven doesn’t mean you need to watch over me like a mother hawk.”
The mention of their brother came like a slap to Torian’s face. Liana could often be rough with him, though he had long ago learned to ignore the worst of her barbs, as he viewed it as her way of grieving. He wasn’t going to let her push him away.
“I’m sorry. I could look with you.”
“We need to find a marker of the empire,” she said, growing even more annoyed, “and you just don’t have the right talent, Torian.”
She hurried away from him, joining Dary.
Along with Dary and Eliza, Liana picked her way over a pile of rubble, disappearing.
“You can come with me,” a soft voice said behind him.
Torian looked over. Jensen was barely eight years old, looking every bit of it with his smaller and petite frame that was not helped by his oversized robes, but already incredibly gifted. He had rapidly learned how to control the primary patterns when he had first entered the school and had progressed through the first-tier patterns faster than anybody in Torian’s memory. He’d already tested for sahir, reaching his first-tier medallion, something that Torian had not accomplished in his time at the school.
“You don’t want me with you,” Torian said.
“You’ve bee
“Sometimes,” Torian said. “But it’s not common for it to do so. If you stick to the paths through it, you don’t have to worry about your footing at all.”
Jensen nodded, his brow wrinkled thoughtfully. “If we stick to the paths, won’t that make it less likely for us to find empire markings? Willa says that the ruins have been picked over by historians, so anything of value will have already been gone through.”
“I don’t think there’s anything of value left in the temple. Remember, it was destroyed decades ago.”
“Can you imagine what it must’ve been like back then?” Jensen looked up as if he were doing just that, his eyes widening ever so slightly. He pressed the tips of his fingers together, and Torian recognized some of the patterns he was using, though the dexterity within Jensen’s fingers was beyond what Torian possessed. He shifted his hands slightly, using one of the primary earth patterns, though a second-tier pattern. The ground near him started to tremble ever so slightly as he released some of that power. “They must’ve had incredibly powerful sahir who built it.”
“Or perhaps more than only sahir,” Gaspel said, coming over to join them.
He flashed a smile at Jensen. Torian had seen the two of them working together, so he knew that Gaspel was offering Jensen private instruction, which wasn’t terribly surprising given Jensen’s potential. Most of the instructors who’d come to the school over the last year, and there had been three others who had been through here, gave Jensen extra attention. It was considered an honor to be the one to escort a student to the university once they passed into the third tier. Everyone, other than Willa, wanted that opportunity.
“I’m not so sure I believe the stories of the valsahir,” Jensen said.
That surprised Torian. He would’ve expected that if anybody believed the stories about the ancient magic users, it would have been the youngest—and most powerful—among them.
“I’ll tell you a secret,” Gaspel said, leaning down toward Jensen. “I’m not so sure that I do, either. We would have found others by now.” He straightened, pressing his hands together briefly. “If you fear the stone, focus on the second-tier stacked stone technique. You can use that to stabilize your footing. You are certainly capable of doing that, Jensen. And I imagine capable enough that you can have Torian go with you. Besides, it is only sensible that the two of you travel together. We wouldn’t want anybody to get lost in the ruins.”
“Has that happened before?”
Torian looked away. He couldn’t tell if Gaspel looked in his direction or not.
“Nothing to be concerned about, Jensen,” he said. “It looks like my colleague would like to visit some more. Now hurry along. The first one of you who finds one of the empire markings will have Willa’s favor. You know how much that is worth.”
Torian looked over to Willa. She had always impressed him. Not only because of her control of her sahir power but because she had managed to use that power for the betterment of her people, something that Torian would like to replicate.
Torian motioned for Jensen to follow. Even if they were to find the empire marking on any of the ruins, Torian doubted that he would get Willa’s favor. Working with Jensen would make it more likely that the younger boy would get the attention, anyway. Not that Torian minded, after all. If they found anything, it would probably be because of Jensen, anyway.
“Where do you think we should go?” Jensen asked.
“Well, I would suggest that we try heading toward the center of the temple. Or what was once the temple. The outskirts of the temple have been picked over.”
“Do you know which way to go?”
Torian nodded and motioned to a pile of debris that heaped in front of them. The footing was unsteady, Torian knew from experience, but not dangerous. There were other places within the temple that were more dangerous. Places where the stone still wobbled unsteadily. Places like where his brother had been lost.
“Oh,” Jensen said. “That’s probably better, anyway. It looks like the others are heading the opposite direction.”
“They probably think they know where they’re going, but I doubt they do.”
Unless Liana spoke up. She knew the ruins fairly well also. Most of that came from their mother’s interest in the ruins, something that she shared with Willa, though probably for a different reason.
“I can go first. I can use the stacked stone pattern to keep them all stable,” Jensen said.
Torian nodded, not wanting to argue with Jensen. It wasn’t necessary here, but the further that they got into the ruins, the more it might be necessary. Torian had stopped exploring after Leven’s death years ago. Leven had preceded Torian in school and had more potential than even Liana. Probably as much as Jensen if he had had the time to develop it. Ever since then, Torian had struggled with his own power.
The two of them made their way forward, with Jensen scrambling up the rock and pausing every so often to press his hands together. Each time he did, the ground trembled, the ruins shifting very slightly, enough to cause some debris to shift around him, then he looked back at Torian and waved for him to follow. He didn’t want to upset Jensen and tell him that his effort was not really necessary, so he waited for the boy to do it.
By the time they reached another small space, the sun had shifted, sending shadows down into the void.
“Should I dispel them?” Jensen asked, pointing to the shadowy pool near them.
“You can do that?” Torian tried to keep the surprise from his voice. Dispelling shadows was a second-tier pattern, but it was considered the most complicated of the second-tier patterns. If Jensen had already mastered that, he would be ready to begin learning the third-tier patterns.
“Most of the time,” Jensen said. “I wasn’t really able to until Gaspel came. He’s given me a few tips over the last year. It’s a tricky hand position.”
Jensen brought his hands together, which Torian immediately modeled, as he knew the hand position to use the dispel shadow pattern, even if he couldn’t draw on the power necessary to make that pattern work.
“Oh. You know it,” Jensen said.
“It’s one thing to know it, and it’s another to use it. I don’t have that strength.”
“You have to have some. You’ve mastered each of the seven primary patterns.”
“I have. But I’m still struggling with the first-tier patterns.” Those patterns were variations of the primary patterns and considered a marker of a true sahir.
“You’ll get there, Torian. Everybody has their own path.”
Torian snorted. “You sound like my mother.”
“My father says that to me too.”
“I imagine most priests have that view,” Torian said.
Jensen jumped down into the shadows, shifting his hands as he did, and the darkness began to separate. Shadow dispel was a limited pattern, but it did cause the darkness to peel away as if it were some layer of fog that simply vanished. It wasn’t permanent. It would hold for several minutes before the darkness would begin to press inward once again, but it was useful nonetheless.
“Does he mind you attending school?” Some priests were known to feel that training as a sahir took power from the Saith, the seven gods celebrated by the church. Not all felt that way, though. Torian didn’t know which way Jensen’s father leaned.
“I don’t think he was thrilled that I have the potential that I do,” Jensen said, sounding as if he were older than his age, “but he understands.” He wrinkled his brow, standing straight, and deepened his voice. “Navarin needs all the sahir protection possible. We must defend against the return of Rusav and celebrate the Saith.” He smiled, as if talking about another invasion of their Rusavian neighbors shouldn’t terrify them. “Don’t tell him that I imitate him like that.”
