Light of Amorth, pt 5
Advanced Metaphorical Image Casting would have been better titled Advanced Stupid. Mrs Dunbar already had several nicknames: Mrs Dumb-Fart, Mrs. She Done Fart, most of them ended in Fart. In a way, it was her own little rebellion.
Cassandra Little peered back over her shoulder, out the open door. She uttered a spell under her breath, and the world in front of her faded into a dull shimmer, and the hallway outside the door appeared in crystal clear view in the center of her field of vision. She allowed her mind to move slowly down the hall toward the artifacts that were collected in Goodnight Hall.
"Sh, child," she heard in her head.
She turned her vision and faced a short man who was probably older than he looked. His hands were disfigured, and he stood hunched over. His thick neck supported a too wide a face, and his mouth was crooked into a slanting smile.
"Sh," he said again, and he held up a hand. "You're about to witness the coming storm."
Image Casting was great if all a magican wanted to do was observe. The stout man turned and shuffled toward the doors that protected the artifacts from wandering first years. He lifted his hands, formed a sigil, and the locks and protections dissipated like water, sparking and smoking as they parted where the doors met. He turned to face Cassandra's vision again.
"I'm not your ordinary spellcaster," he whispered to her like they were close friends and had been for years. "I'm not even an un-ordinary spellcaster." He chuckled at himself. "You see, most spellcasters have to imagine the their target, whether it's transmuting a cup to bowl or a dog to a cat, or convincing the daylight to turn to night.
"You see, I can manipulate the world by just waving my hands, like this." He twitched a finger, and the doors slowly slid open. It still takes Cassandra several minutes to affect change on physical objects.
"I've been playing with this ability for a while." He pushed at the ground with his palms and he levitated over the enchanted floor. In front of him, the number of highlight and lowlight spells quavered and shattered into a prism of color. "I'm currently projecting an aura of unsight ahead of me."
He stopped suddenly.
"And, that's what I'm looking for."
Cassandra shifted her focus on a carved canister.
"That, my dear, is the Light of Amorth. And that, my dear child, will be the savior of the human race."
He glided right up to it, held out a hand, and -
"Ms Little, how many times have I asked you do not image cast while in class?"
Cassandra's vision splintered and evaporated, and the face of Mrs Dumb-Fart crisped in front of her. She fell backward out of her chair.
"There's someone in Goodnight Hall!"
They felt the rumble tear through each of them, and the ground shook so violently that Mrs Dunbar was thrown to the floor. The children screamed and scurried out the door, pushing and shoving each other. At the far end of the hall, the exposed air of the midsummer day blew through and flipped papers and stirred curtains.
Mrs Dunbar grabbed Cassandra's arm. "How did you know?"
She wrenched herself free, ran to the end, and peered out over the rubble.
Georgina Fosterday looked up at her, and they made eye contact.
Cassandra had to tell her, but she didn't know how.
-JR Simmang
Cassandra Little peered back over her shoulder, out the open door. She uttered a spell under her breath, and the world in front of her faded into a dull shimmer, and the hallway outside the door appeared in crystal clear view in the center of her field of vision. She allowed her mind to move slowly down the hall toward the artifacts that were collected in Goodnight Hall.
"Sh, child," she heard in her head.
She turned her vision and faced a short man who was probably older than he looked. His hands were disfigured, and he stood hunched over. His thick neck supported a too wide a face, and his mouth was crooked into a slanting smile.
"Sh," he said again, and he held up a hand. "You're about to witness the coming storm."
Image Casting was great if all a magican wanted to do was observe. The stout man turned and shuffled toward the doors that protected the artifacts from wandering first years. He lifted his hands, formed a sigil, and the locks and protections dissipated like water, sparking and smoking as they parted where the doors met. He turned to face Cassandra's vision again.
"I'm not your ordinary spellcaster," he whispered to her like they were close friends and had been for years. "I'm not even an un-ordinary spellcaster." He chuckled at himself. "You see, most spellcasters have to imagine the their target, whether it's transmuting a cup to bowl or a dog to a cat, or convincing the daylight to turn to night.
"You see, I can manipulate the world by just waving my hands, like this." He twitched a finger, and the doors slowly slid open. It still takes Cassandra several minutes to affect change on physical objects.
"I've been playing with this ability for a while." He pushed at the ground with his palms and he levitated over the enchanted floor. In front of him, the number of highlight and lowlight spells quavered and shattered into a prism of color. "I'm currently projecting an aura of unsight ahead of me."
He stopped suddenly.
"And, that's what I'm looking for."
Cassandra shifted her focus on a carved canister.
"That, my dear, is the Light of Amorth. And that, my dear child, will be the savior of the human race."
He glided right up to it, held out a hand, and -
"Ms Little, how many times have I asked you do not image cast while in class?"
Cassandra's vision splintered and evaporated, and the face of Mrs Dumb-Fart crisped in front of her. She fell backward out of her chair.
"There's someone in Goodnight Hall!"
They felt the rumble tear through each of them, and the ground shook so violently that Mrs Dunbar was thrown to the floor. The children screamed and scurried out the door, pushing and shoving each other. At the far end of the hall, the exposed air of the midsummer day blew through and flipped papers and stirred curtains.
Mrs Dunbar grabbed Cassandra's arm. "How did you know?"
She wrenched herself free, ran to the end, and peered out over the rubble.
Georgina Fosterday looked up at her, and they made eye contact.
Cassandra had to tell her, but she didn't know how.
-JR Simmang
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