June Novel Essential Information

Novel Title: Testing

Time Setting: 1895

Genre: Historical Fiction

Minimum Word Goal: 90,000

Timespan: May-July

Locations: Elk City & Ketchum, Idaho

Main Characters: Gabriel Ræder, Ivy Oldford

Background Information:

Gabriel was born the second son and fourth child of eight children to a well-to-do couple in Denmark. Due to his parents' abundance of funds he was quite well educated and developed passions for learning and horsemanship.

Being of a high social standing, his parents desired for him to marry one of a large number of rich, eligible bachelorettes for the sake of prestige, not love.

Gabriel, however, found none of them appealing, as he wanted to marry a woman he loved, not just one who had the connections his parents wanted.

Infuriated at his refusal of all their choices, his parents disowned him and caused all of Danish high society to shun him so badly that he was forced to flee Denmark. He came to America with two trunks of belongings and a hundred thousand Danish kronor — all he owned.

Slowly, over the past nine years, Gabriel has been working his way across America, trying to find a place to call home and a woman to love, which has brought him to Elk City.

Being as he's run out of kronor, and sold everything he was willing to part with, Gabriel is now required to work for his money, thus he is currently working in the mining business so as to gain enough money to continue on his journey.

Ivy was born the second daughter and third child of five children to a farming family in Virginia. Her family set out west when she was six and arrived in Ketchum when she was nine.

In Ketchum her father was quickly encouraged into sheep farming and has since made it so profitable for himself that he even employs his own shepherds.

One of these shepherds, Thomas Bramwell, has taken a fancy to Ivy, and she to him. Recently the pair have become and gaged and are planning on being wed come autumn.

Due to the upcoming nuptials, Thomas and Ivy agreed it would be wise for her to meet her future in-laws beforehand, and it turns out the Bramwell's barn collapsed due to the snow load over winter, so Thomas has gotten leave to help build a new barn and is taking Ivy along with him to Elk City to meet his parents while the project is worked on.

Pronunciation:

Ræder: raider

Next post will be June 6.

Ascent: Day 15

Word Total: 90,002

Year to Date: 510,032

Summary of Events:

Ilyé and Master Lyarí had a heated argument that caused Ilyé to be convinced Master Lyarí was selfishly wanting to prolong his reign and prevent Ilyé from achieving his destiny. Ilyé then was summoned to help find a missing young woman, but her father — the great grandson of one of Master Lyarí's brothers — didn't believe Ilyé was the Lemyazhmok as he was claiming to be, and, after finding the woman, wedding her to her lover whom her father didn't approve of, and returning, Ilyé killed him. He was then woken in the night by Master Lyarí gasping for air; Master Lyarí tried to talk to him, but couldn't get enough air, then the dragon Ilyé'd gotten acquainted with, Dyolazár, came and pretty much told Ilyé the same things, which he didn't appreciate . . . 

Excerpt of the Day:

""Yes," Dyolazár replied. "Because it is true. Your master may not have learned all that he could, and should, have from the volumes entrusted to him, but he was very wise and perceptive, should he have been born as one of my people he would have been much revered for that alone, aside from his skills in magic."

Ilyé glared at Dyolazár severely.

"Unfortunately you do not have the ears to listen," Dyolazár said. "Even if you learn all the magic known to your people, and even if you become a master at it all — and you are gifted as such that you would be able to — having stopped ears will bring about your demise."
Ilyé wasn't appreciating the lecture.

"You may well be able to survive for a good time and execute your will authoritatively, but the fact that you have stopped your ears will destroy you, Troubled Heart," Dyolazár said. "It is unfortunate that you should be so, that you should even turn against your own master in your consumption, but I fear that such will be, and I can do nothing to prevent such from being the case."

"You have no right to," Ilyé snapped.

Dyolazár snaked his head back and looked at Ilyé with indignation. "Do you wish to incur the wrath of my people?"

"I am the Lemyazhmok, and a master of the deep magic," Ilyé replied.

"You are no master of the deep magic," Dyolazár said, bringing his head in so close that Ilyé could feel his hot breath as he spoke. "And no matter if you are or not, my people are the masters of the deepest magic, and the deepest magic is stronger than the deep magic, much stronger. Do not boast so foolishly. We will come and annihilate your people if you should dare maintain such insolence."

Ilyé stepped back, a shot of fear clutching his heart as the image flashed into his mind of dragons flying over the South and burning it with fire, killing all of his people, and making his people no longer.

"What is your choice?" Dyolazár asked. "Do you boast and consent to this land becoming the new Syruolabé? Or do you recognise that your magical skills are nothing in comparison to my people, and preserve life as it now stands?"

Ilyé gazed silently at Dyolazár's glowing chest. He had a feeling Dyolazár was more than ready to blast fire at him if he chose to maintain his boasting.

Not that he could, he felt like a fool now.

"Haste, he fades faster," Dyolazár said, nodding toward the cave door.

Ilyé turned around and went over to Master Lyarí's side. His master still gasped for breath, turning his head slightly.

"Ilyé," he whispered, then lowered his head and stilled.

The rasping of his breath no longer filled the air. The room was silent. Ilyé stared, then startled when he realised Master Lyarí's form was fading away. He watched in silence until it was completely gone. His master was dead."

Dyolazár: deeohlahzore

Next post will be May 30.

Ascent: Day 14

Word Count: 84,006

Summary of Events:

Ilyé and Master Lyarí went to help a schoolteacher whose class had drunk magically-treated water and gone crazy and Ilyé had the teacher become his mate . . . until she conceived a youngling and he killed her in a rage. Master Lyarí was napping, so Ilyé went to help a man whose wife was having difficulty delivering her child. Ilyé then went to the lake and visited with the yellow dragon again and was positively flabbergasted to learn that dragons could live more than the length of an age. Master Lyarí went to visit his mate, and when he came back he was glowing oddly green, but claimed he'd been invisible . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

""I saw you," Ilyé said.

"Impossible!" Master Lyarí snapped. "You're not so much greater than me that you can go seeing magic! Not even the dragons can see magic. They can only see the effects it has — or not see, if that is the effect."

"I saw you, I swear I saw you," Ilyé replied. "You were glowing green, like this."

Ilyé held out his right forearm, which was glowing green as he'd seen. Master Lyarí looked at Ilyé, his brow furrowed.

"Your forearm's gone," Master Lyarí said. "It's invisible, just as I was."

"No, I can see it," Ilyé insisted. "It's glowing green, not like when my father and Nargya would try to be invisible and there would be a glow around their invisible outlines, but it's glowing as if its being shone at by a green light and is made of mist."

Master Lyarí was silent, gazing at where Ilyé could see his glowing right forearm, while Master Lyarí apparently couldn't see anything. Ilyé gazed at the same space, rippling his fingers up and down and watching as muscles lower down in his forearm also rippled, all of it looking rather eerie and unnatural in the green glow.

"It is those deep magic books you are reading," Master Lyarí said. "You have been given some greater power by them.

Ilyé let his arm return back to normal and looked at it.

"You have surpassed me by measures I never would've imagined," Master Lyarí said quietly.

Ilyé silently gazed at Master Lyarí. He still didn't feel greater than Master Lyarí yet; he had a feeling that once he actually achieved the position of Lemyazhmok for himself he would be able to feel such.

"I must read those books," Master Lyarí said. "I've waited too long to read them."

"No," Ilyé said sharply.

Master Lyarí turned and looked at Ilyé with a disturbed expression. "Just because your magical skill is greater than mine does not mean that you are superior over me, I can still read the books of deep magic if I should so desire, and I will not see you stop me,"

"No!" Ilyé snapped.

"I am your master!" Master Lyarí cried. "I will not be defied."

Ilyé saw blue light swirling like a whirlwind around Master Lyarí's hands as he stretched them out, and then raised them and aimed them toward Ilyé. Raising his own hands, Ilyé took the blue light onto his hands and sent it back at Master Lyarí, who startled when he was suddenly engulfed by the light, pulled to the floor, dragged against the wall, and tightly confined.

"No! No!" Master Lyarí cried, desperately trying to undo things to liberate himself.

Ilyé watched his master struggle and cry out, but did nothing to aid. Master Lyarí could remain there for all he cared, and starve himself to death. Ilyé would then get what he wanted more than anything: the title of Lemyazhmok."

Ascent: Day 13

Word Count: 78,003

Summary of Events:

Ilyé massacred his entire family and was then confronted by an unhappy Master Lyarí who made it that Ilyé could no longer kill people unless he was in a calm state of mind or was not killing them in revenge. Ilyé, in his voracious reading, came upon some heavily-enchanted volumes speaking of a magic known as deep magic which was rather difficult for even Lemyazhmoks to do, and began practising the exercises, one night having to go out to a lake to do some exercises requiring water . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

"He'd done most of the exercises when he was startled by the sound of slow, rhythmic flapping, and then the shadow of a great dragon, which circled around overhead and caused Ilyé to gaze with wide eyes as he landed with hissing and spraying of water and steam in most every direction.

A large dragon whom Ilyé could tell even in the dark was yellow snaked its great head toward him and looked at him seriously for a long time before speaking.

"Who are you to be exerting influence over the deep magic?" the dragon asked in a deep, rumbling voice.

"I am Ilyé Nikadenaer, Apprentice of the Lemyazhmok Zharíka Lyarí," Ilyé replied confidently.

The dragon looked at him with an expression that seemed rather dubious.

"Raise your head, look at the stars," the dragon said.

Ilyé looked up. He didn't see anything spectacular.

"Who gave you this mark?" the dragon asked, its claw touching exactly where the last dragon's claw had touched, a long time ago.

"I do not know his name, but he was orange, and he had come to aid Master Lyarí when the waters would not show him images as they were supposed to," Ilyé replied.

"Hm," the dragon growled deeply. "You are the one he spoke of, Troubled Heart, the Fearless One."

"My heart is not troubled," Ilyé said.

The dragon uttered a deep, rumbling chuckle that sounded much akin to a thunderstorm. "We are perceptive people who can see deeply, we can see things in others that they do not believe they have, and it is such with you Troubled Heart."

"If you're so perceptive then why is it so troubled?" Ilyé asked.

The dragon growled and his chest seemed to glow under the water. "You know well why it is troubled if you will look deep within yourself, but you will not, and if you will not look deeply within yourself then you do not need to know why you are troubled."

Ilyé said nothing, he felt he may have crossed the dragon a little bit already, and he didn't know that he wanted to experience what it would be like to be breathed on by fire — and it would surely ruin the volume of knowledge on the deep magic he had beside him, something he didn't want to lose.

"You are only an apprentice, though," the dragon said. "Why is it that you are practising the deep magic?"

"Master Lyarí does not know it, he did not read the volumes written on it, so it is that I am teaching myself," Ilyé replied. "Besides, Master Lyarí has said that the waters have told him much about me being a greater magician than he.""

Ascent: Day 12

Word Count: 72,025

Summary of Events:

Ilyé hadn't felt that Master Lyarí had been resolving any major issues in his rounds and that they were purely a formality to announce Ilyé as his apprentice, but finally they arrived at a town where the magicians were severely divided over an issue, and Ilyé got to exact the punishment on the dissenters. At the next town Ilyé learned that mates were different than husbands and wives, and how, and to his great horror that Master Lyarí himself had a mate whom they would be visiting shortly. Ilyé didn't like Master Lyarí's mate — especially being as she accidentally closed the door in his face — and so didn't bother socialising. Finally the rounds were over and being as Master Lyarí was quite tired Ilyé took advantage to begin the exacting of his revenge . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

"He found his wall still intact, and he found that his entire family was home. Quickly he finished up the wall and then flew in through the opening and landed as silently as possible on the roof.
"Níléts Ajuné!" Ilyé called in a deep voice that he'd been practising for some time.

Quickly his father hurried out. Ilyé magically sealed the house door after him, along with all of the windows and other escape routes — even the chimney.

His father rushed around, looking puzzled. When he turned back toward the house, however, he stopped dead still.

"You!" his father screamed. "Nargya! My elixirs!"

Ilyé spread his wings and used one beat to carry himself off of the roof and onto the ground.

"He can't hear you," Ilyé said. "You are completely at my mercy."

His father laughed. "Oh really? I can go anywhere you know."

"Show me," Ilyé challenged.

Indignant, his father turned and galloped at full speed. Ilyé smiled when his father crashed into the wall.

Although he was stunned, his father pretended nothing had happened and galloped off to another place. Several times he tried, even at the place Ilyé had last left open, but couldn't get through anywhere.

"Well, so you've put a wall around the place," his father said. "I can fly over it."

Ilyé watched with a smirk as his father flew and ran into the wall on every side, as if he were a flying insect caught inside a house, trying to get out. Ilyé hoped his father felt like an insect.

No matter how high his father flew, he never got over the wall, and then his head started running into the top. Ilyé felt a clutch of worry, if his father found the opening he'd get away.

Thankfully his father was too tired from trying to find a way out to look too long, not to mention the head-banging dazed him, so he came down.

"You think you're going to do something to me?" his father challenged.

"Yes," Ilyé replied coldly. "I think I am going to kill you."

"You and what army you pathetic youngling?" his father sneered.

"I don't need an army," Ilyé replied, a smug smile coming over his face. "I am, after all, the Lemyazhmok's apprentice."

A look of pure horror and rage came over his father's face that Ilyé couldn't help but smile at.

His father screamed, shouted, raged, and threw himself about in a frenzied fit. Ilyé watched smilingly and made sure to keep out of the way of his father's fury. He wouldn't cower now. He had the power, and he was going to exact his revenge.

Reaching his hands out in front of himself, Ilyé made the first wound, which caused his father to shriek and leap about in pained fury.

"You may think it is you that will kill me, but it is I that will kill you!" his father screamed.

Ilyé merely smiled. No, he would get his revenge, and it would be magnificent."

Ascent: Day 11

Word Count: 66,006

Summary of Events:

At one of the next towns on their rounds Ilyé challenged a fellow winged centaur to a race and easily beat him, much to the other centaur's displeasure. The next town was one from which Ilyé had been shot at before and he flattened the entire town in his rage when he was called a monster, but Master Lyarí made him restore it. As they were journeying Ilyé thought they were being followed and discovered when they camped for the night that it was his father's friend who'd sent him back to his father the first time he'd been in the area, and so killed him. At the next town Ilyé and Master Lyarí spent the night and had a discussion . . . 

Excerpt of the Day:

"Master Lyarí sat down beside him and gazed into the flames for a few moments before looking at Ilyé, who couldn't even see any of his master's facial features in the firelight.

"I've been doing much thinking as we've been journeying, and I do believe I've discerned the purpose you have for the wall which you've built around your parents' home," Master Lyarí said.

Ilyé looked at him with intrigue, but divulged nothing.

"You wish to kill your family in revenge for their ill treatment of you," Master Lyarí said.

There was no sense in denying it. "Yes."

"I would advise you not to Ilyé," Master Lyarí said. "As much as they have caused you great harm and anguish."

"And why not?" Ilyé demanded, anger rapidly rising to a boil within him.

"Because their power no longer can affect you as you have the power to counteract it entirely," Master Lyarí replied.

"So?" Ilyé demanded. "They tortured me for their pleasure!"

"But they did not kill you Ilyé," Master Lyarí said. "Therefore I do not believe that your killing of them would be justified."

"So then what do you suggest?" Ilyé sneered.

"I suggest that you torture them in return, even worse than they tortured you," Master Lyarí replied. "Show them that they were wrong to have tortured you, make them suffer and regret, and let them in their regretful torment take their own lives if they so choose."

"I want the ultimate revenge on them," Ilyé said.

"And the longer you draw it out, the more ultimate it will be, I guarantee you," Master Lyarí replied. "I've been subject to killing many people over my years because they've chosen to cross me or behave insubordinately toward me, and the ones whose tortures I dragged out longer were the ones that I enjoyed more than the instant deaths."

"I will draw out the kill," Ilyé said. "Like I drew out my father's friend's death."

"Longer yet," Master Lyarí said. "Far longer yet. Years, not hours."

"I couldn't possibly wait that long," Ilyé said.

"In fact, sometimes I find it more preferable if they just kill themselves, as I can't say that I entirely enjoy killing," Master Lyarí said. "Part of why I drag out the torment, I must admit."

"Part of how the cowardliness of your childhood has remained," Ilyé said.

"Excuse me?" Master Lyarí demanded.

"You are not fully brave," Ilyé replied. "And I should hope that someone as wise and powerful as you recognises that."

"I do not like how you are talking down to me," Master Lyarí said. "I am your master, and I will be until my dying day."

Ilyé exhaled sharply, but said nothing.

"I do hope that you will not kill your parents brutally," Master Lyarí said after a long pause.

"No one will be killed more brutally than they," Ilyé replied. "No one else deserves to suffer a more brutal demise.""

Ascent: Day 10

Word Count: 60,008

Summary of Events:

Ilyé continued to work on an ice wall to help trap his family and get revenge on them and ended up using his magical skill to control the mind of a questioning local, which greatly impressed Master Lyarí, who decided that Ilyé should start going on rounds with him. Master Lyarí then told Ilyé of the hierarchy of the magicians and some of the more intellectual things Ilyé would need to know to be the Lemyazhmok before taking him on his first set of rounds . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

""As I think should be plainly obvious, I have chosen an apprentice," Master Lyarí said quietly. "The youngling Ilyé Nikadenaer."

"He doesn't look much like a youngling," one of the magicians said doubtfully. "He looks more fully grown."

"One more year and he will no longer be a youngling," Master Lyarí said. "But for now a youngling he remains."

The magician who'd spoken nodded, although he seemed rather doubtful still.

"Can we be sure that he's still a true one of our people, and not some sort of a halfbreed?" another magician asked.

"Yes, you can be sure," Master Lyarí replied. "He is the way he is because of a curse that I put upon his parents."

"But you should know better than to choose the firstborn of a curse to be your apprentice," a magician who sounded and looked old — at least by his hands — said scoldingly.

"I am the Lemyazhmok!" Master Lyarí snapped. "I know what is best. I have made my choice, and it isn't like you'll be alive long enough to suffer should there have been any folly on my part, which I doubt!"

"But he is the firstborn of a curse!" the old magician protested.

"The waters foretell of incredible greatness which he will possess," Master Lyarí said sharply. "And already I have proof that he is destined for greatness because he has outdone my own skill with greater rapidity than I outdid my own master. Already he has mastered the ability to control not only the minds of others, but his own, magically, and I had not even brought up the topic in training."

"The firstborn of a curse will bring doom upon us all," the old magician said. "That is how we got the Lemyafiok in the first place! Their founders' parents had been cursed by the first Lemyazhmok, and then came the origination of the Lemyafiok! Surely he will cause the Lemyafiok to become the supreme magicians and destroy us!"

"His father was a Lemyafiok," Master Lyarí said.

"So?" the old magician challenged.

"I will not tolerate the presence of the Lemyafiok," Ilyé snapped. "I should like it to be that the position and the practise of the Lemyafiok be completely eradicated from this land."

"You're just saying that, boy," the old magician said.

Ilyé felt a rush of overwhelming rage within himself and before even he had realised what he was doing the old magician lay on the ground, blood spurting from his neck, his body twitching, underneath Ilyé's legs.

All of the other magicians were standing well back of Ilyé, who casually glanced at his bloody hands, then looked up at the rest of them.

Out the corner of his eye he spied Master Lyarí, his arms crossed over his chest, his face turned to Ilyé in a severe glare.

"Control is one thing you've yet to learn, Apprentice Nikadenaer," Master Lyarí said cooly."

Lemyafiok: lehmyahfeeock 

Ascent: Day 9

Word Count: 54,006

Summary of Events:

As soon as Master Lyarí left on rounds again Ilyé went to see about getting revenge on his family, only to find that they weren't home. He then went to see where they were, but the pool wouldn't show him any images, so he got mad at it and then was sent into the dreamworld where the queen of legend visited him again. When Master Lyarí returned Ilyé learned how to work magic with snow and then began to build a wall to entrap his family, but was spotted by Nargya, which prompted him to flee and he saw that a dragon was coming to help Master Lyarí figure out what was wrong with the waters. After the waters were restored the dragon turned his attentions to Ilyé . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

"Ilyé felt like his master was afraid of the dragon, and like he were trying to placate the dragon, as if it would explode into rage at any moment.

"This youngling shall serve a special purpose," the dragon said.

"The waters have already told me he will have greatness exceeding even my own," Master Lyarí said quickly.

The dragon nodded its great head. "He is already well on his way."

When the dragon released his wing, Ilyé slowly retracted it. The skin felt funny where the dragon had touched it — although it wasn't like he'd ever been touched by a dragon before.

"He does not fear as you feared," the dragon said.

"No, he has much less fear than I," Master Lyarí said, his mouth curled in a bit of a timid smile.

"There is no fear in him even now," the dragon said, putting its great finger on Ilyé's chest.

Ilyé looked down at the golden claw whose point was settled exactly between his collarbone ends at the top of his breastbone. The pad felt odd, almost like it was covered in some sort of a grit, against his skin.

"And yet you are still afraid," the dragon said. "Even your master before you was afraid. He is not. Not now. He will never again fear my people. Not even the greatest among us, despite the fact that he is small enough to be held in one hand."

The dragon raised its fingertip off of Ilyé's chest. He felt the sharp point of the claw digging through the skin at the top of his breastbone, but he didn't cry out. The pain of the waters had been greater than this.

"You feel no pain youngling?" the dragon asked, removing his blood-tipped claw from Ilyé's chest and looking at it with intrigue.

"The waters caused me greater pain," Ilyé replied.

The dragon coiled his head back and looked at Ilyé, almost like his brow was furrowed. "The waters?"

Ilyé turned over his hand so the dragon could see it.

"He struck the waters when they showed an image that displeased him," Master Lyarí explained quickly. "I hadn't given him any instructions on the waters."

The dragon brought his head close to Ilyé's hand so that Ilyé could nearly touch his eye. He then reached out his hand and placed a large fingertip over Ilyé's fingers.

"And you have lived?" the dragon asked.

"Yes," Ilyé replied simply.

The dragon lowered his hand and pulled his head away. "Much, much greatness is in store for this youngling."

Ilyé silently gazed at the dragon's head. The longer the dragon remained here, the more he felt comfortable around it.

"But greatness is a poor prescription for a troubled soul," the dragon said.

Ilyé startled and looked at the dragon with puzzlement as he spread his great wings and took off, his tail sliding after him, dripping with river water as he left them behind to gaze on his retreat."

Ascent: Day 8

Word Count: 48,017

Summary of Events:

Ilyé and Master Lyarí watched in the pool as Ilyé's father went to lead a group of magicians who hated Master Lyarí to overthrow him when the young magician who'd gotten upset at Master Lyarí for not choosing him as an apprentice arrived, humiliated Ilyé's father, and led the group to do as Ilyé's father had planned to. Ilyé and Master Lyarí got ready and met the group, whom Master Lyarí put on an incredible show of his power for . . . before murdering all of them. Ilyé then continued on with his training as normal, and during one session was told how Master Lyarí had come to be the Lemyazhmok . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

""I've grown and matured much since I was a youngling Ilyé," Master Lyarí said, smiling. "I have a much sharper mind now. However, when I was a youngling I was terribly cowardly, which is why my parents decided I should be trained as a magician. So they made it known to the magicians around that their youngling was available to be apprenticed."

Ilyé nodded.

"Many magicians came and spoke with me and whatnot, but I found them all terribly frightening, and was insufferably shy with all of them, which displeased them greatly," Master Lyarí looked off in the distance. "Except the most frightening one of them all."

Ilyé listened intently.

"He was so much taller than the others, so much stronger, and his voice was terrifying, not to mention he never let me see his face," Master Lyarí continued. "Without once speaking to me he said he would take me as his apprentice. So I had to go with him, even though I didn't want to, and my parents couldn't come with me."

Ilyé sat down and made himself comfortable to listen.

"The only reason he held my hand was to keep me from running back home to my parents as he led me through the terrifying, dark forests; past frightening, gargantuan lakes; and then along a viciously raging river through a mountain valley so scary and forbidding I screamed and fought him the whole way," Master Lyarí said, smiling. "Worst of all, was the big, black cave we went into at the end. Absolutely everything was terrifying, and then I was trapped in the cave forever, as far as I was concerned."

In his mind, Ilyé could almost see Master Lyarí as a youngling, trembling with fear.

"As I spent time in the cave and with the big, monstrous magician, I found that neither one of them was actually that scary," Master Lyarí continued. "And Master Diúnodro was, in some ways, a rather cruel and unkind master. I especially thought so then too, but that was what I needed, because if I would've had someone who would've treated me lightly or kindly, or someone who would've pitied my fright, I never would've conquered it. And now here I am, no longer a coward."

Yet it was so easy for Ilyé to imagine Master Lyarí as a fearful youngling.

"I was so frightened of everything that I couldn't hardly aim to throw the knives, I thought mountain peaks were going to come crashing down on me," Master Lyarí chuckled. "Master Diúnodro's patience was commendable. He made me do it, but he never pushed me or beat me. He never got frustrated with my cowardice, but he showed me that, in truth — and especially as a magician — I have absolutely nothing to be afraid of.""

Diúnodro: d'younohdroh

Ascent: Day 7

Word Count: 42,009

Summary of Events:

Ilyé watched through the pool as Master Lyarí made his rounds and encountered a young magician who thought he'd been promised the title of Lemyazhmok, and was furious that he wasn't. Ilyé then did some training before he and Master Lyarí sat down to dinner and Ilyé was told the difference between elixir magic and real magic . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

""Well, it's rather complicated," Master Lyarí replied. "But there are two kinds of magic, the real magic, which is the most powerful magic, and there is the elixir magic, which is based on a lot of complex timings, lengthy chants, and insufferable details."

Ilyé furrowed his brow, it still didn't make any sense.

"Elixirs are created by collecting different parts of plants and animals, and even some things from ourselves, mainly the first milk of a first-time mother, and the afterbirths as well, and the closer these things are collected to a full moon, the better," Master Lyarí continued. "And if they're close to particular full moons: the midsummer moon, the midwinter moon, or the first moon of spring or autumn, they're even more powerful — or so it's said, although I don't believe it's necessarily true."

"But they seem all sorts of strange colours," Ilyé said.

"That comes from combining different things," Master Lyarí replied.

"Oh," Ilyé said.

"Different elixirs have powers over different things, and if you combine different materials you get different powers and whatnot," Master Lyarí said. "Overall it's honestly rather confusing even for me. And then the different spells to be cast require different application methods and one has to be insufferably specific otherwise the spells fail."

It sounded that way, from what Ilyé was hearing.

"Additionally it is exceedingly difficult to carry out the spells, there is little control, and different weather conditions can determine the failure or success of certain spells," Master Lyarí said.

The memory of the explosion came back to Ilyé's mind all too quickly.

"And the worst part is that the power does not come from yourself," Master Lyarí said. "You are utterly dependent upon on the elixirs and the weather, your power is severely limited by many things, and poor training can ruin you — as you should know well from experiencing your father and brother."

Ilyé nodded.

"Real magic, on the other hand, comes from you," Master Lyarí said. "There is no wand, no elixirs, no chants, no weather limits, it comes from within you, and you can do anything with it. Not that it doesn't have its own conditions."

"Like what?" Ilyé asked.

"Nothing you'll ever have to worry about, I can assure you," Master Lyarí said. "However, some people — like your father — have violated the conditions and thus have lost their ability to perform real magic. Those sorts of people are typically the only people who work elixir magic anyways, although some of them will train their children in the arts of elixir magic — or will try to and fail horribly."

Ilyé shifted his jaw. "They can lose their ability to do it?"

"Yes," Master Lyarí replied. "But if people follow the conditions they will become incredibly powerful magicians, although none more powerful than the Lemyazhmok.""

Ascent: Day 6

Word Count: 36,007

Summary of Events:

Ilyé had a dream that he didn't understand and he learned that it'd featured a legendary woman of Qikatalukiq's past from the Lemyazhmok and learned her story. He also discovered that the place where his hand had struck the water was permanently blackened, but not painful. He then looked in the waters again, still displeased by what he saw, and left the Lemyazhmok behind again paying a visit to his family — who didn't receive him well — before returning and deciding he would undertake the training to become the Lemyazhmok's apprentice, which first required a journey through a magic portal . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

"Ilyé passed through it and found himself in the middle of a forest, standing by a place that was ruined, with many broken trees, and a blood red lake in the middle of it, with broken trees jutting out of it.

Soon Master Lyarí was standing beside him.

"Take off your cloak," Master Lyarí said.

Ilyé did so.

"Go into the water," Master Lyarí said, taking Ilyé's cloak.

"It's not water," Ilyé said. "It's blood."

"Yes it is," Master Lyarí said. "You noticed. Go in."

Reluctantly Ilyé stepped forward.

"Keep going," Master Lyarí said.

Ilyé kept walking, stepping delicately and grimacing at the thought that he was walking in blood, he was getting it all over himself. He stopped once it was at his neck. He wasn't going any further.

"Keep going!" Master Lyarí called.

Ilyé made a face and grimaced. He didn't want to get it over his head, it'd be in his ears and nose then!

Reluctantly, though, he continued in until he was fully submerged. He then went to start backing out, but found that he was stuck fast. He couldn't get his feet free. He spread out his wings and tried to fly, but he couldn't get away.

Suddenly he felt something that wasn't in the least bit comfortable and his eyes were being forced open. All he could see was redness, he couldn't even see his hands. He wanted to get away, he needed air.

No matter how he struggled he couldn't get out, he needed air, he gasped and his mouth filled with the taste of blood. He wanted to get out, he needed to get out. He had to get away.

Finally he was let go and he fled out of the blood as quickly as possible. Once on the shore he coughed violently and swiped at his face to get the blood out of his eyes.

"Be still," Master Lyarí said.

Ilyé stilled. He heard Master Lyarí murmur something and then he felt like it was all gone. He opened his eyes and saw his vision was unharmed. In fact, he felt completely dry.

He noticed Master Lyarí reaching out over the blood with a goblet. Ilyé startled when the blood rose and filled the goblet. Master Lyarí then turned toward Ilyé and held out the goblet.

"Drink it," Master Lyarí said.

"I already got a bunch in my lungs," Ilyé said.

"Drink it," Master Lyarí said firmly.

Reluctantly, Ilyé took the goblet in both hands and drank it back until it was empty, as he was sure he would get in trouble if he didn't.

"Now we will wait here until we know it has gone through," Master Lyarí said.

"How will we know that?" Ilyé asked.

"When you have movements," Master Lyarí replied.

Ilyé looked at Master Lyarí utterly reviled.

"That is how we will know," Master Lyari said. "And I agree with you that it isn't pleasant.""

Ascent: Day 5

Word Count: 30,008

Summary of Events:

Ilyé tried, once again, to journey all of the way to the easternmost island of Qikatalukiq, Rivisiviq, but this time was chased away by three arrows when he was close enough to see the island. He managed to get all the way back to the Lemyazhmok's cave and decided he wasn't trying again until success was guaranteed. The Lemyazhmok told him success would be best guaranteed if he magically disguised his wings, which left him to decide if either he wanted to learn magic, or if he'd be willing to travel to and from the Lemyazhmok's cave every six months to get disguised. He woke in the middle of the night, disturbed by the pool in the Lemyazhmok's cave, and decided to go look at it . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

"In the image that appeared was his parents. They looked younger, and Nargya and Baranyana looked like they were younglings. He watched as Nargya and Baranyana were left behind and his parents set off.

They went on foot, following the river, which he recognised as the river Nirkob, following it until they reached the foot of the cave. If it wouldn't have been daylight in the image he may've actually gone to the door to check if they were really there.

His parents followed a trail up to the doorway and stepped inside. He watched as they rummaged around and even each looked into the pool, but then quickly turned away, without the pool showing him what it'd showed them. Suddenly a shadow came over the door and they turned.

Ilyé watched as the Lemyazhmok — who also looked younger — strode inside, his entire carriage and countenance wrathful. Ilyé had yet to hear a sound from the pool, so he couldn't hear what was being said.

He watched as lightning suddenly flashed forth from the Lemyazhmok's hand and struck both of his parents; and then suddenly they vanished from the cave and the scene abruptly changed back to the house Ilyé had known so well as a den of torture.

His father emerged from the door and waved farewell, his mother, Nargya, and Baranyana all waved in return. The four of them looked a little older now. The image followed his mother and siblings into the house where his mother was writing in the agony of birthing.

Two strange women stood by, he guessed they were midwives making sure the delivery went safely. One moved in close to his mother as if to confirm his guess.

He could tell the birthing process was leaving his mother in pure agony and finally the second midwife went in with her hands while the other pulled. A blonde-haired youngling with a red-brown coat was nearly out.

Finally it slid free. It was winged with black wings; skin wings. His wings.

He'd been born blonde and copper? He was reviled by the thought. It was impossible.

But the images kept moving without letting him process the idea and he watched as his baby coat shed out the blonde and copper to become straight black. As it was now.

Shortly thereafter his father returned to the images a screaming fury. He winced as his mother was beaten, and when the pool started to show images of him being beaten he struck the water to make it go away.

A vicious pain ripped through his hand and he screamed, going to clutch his hand to his chest, but suddenly the burning started to spread where his hand had touched his chest, so he held it away, but it still crawled along. He'd never felt a pain like it."

Rivisiviq: rihvihsihvihck

Baranyana: bahrannyahnah

Nirkob: nearcob

Ascent: Day 4

Word Count: 24,003

Summary of Events:

Ilyé learned from the Lemyazhmok that the whole reason he looked like he did was because the Lemyazhmok had cursed his parents when they'd dared cross the threshold of his home; he then got the Lemyazhmok to let him go and decided to set out on a trip to the east, except that he was spotted by soldiers who thought him an enemy and started shooting at him, getting him in his hindquarters and forcing him to turn to the mountains, where he found a cave and decided to stop . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

"Who goes– oh, you're back young Ilyé," the Lemyazhmok's familiar voice reached his ears, but he didn't open his eyes. The pain was too much for him. He was just glad he'd found help.

He heard the Lemyazhmok's footfalls ringing off of the rock, he couldn't tell if they were approaching or receding.

"And what did they do to you?" the Lemyazhmok asked, then tsked. "That's not very good. You've swollen terribly. It must've been a poisoned arrow."

Ilyé cried out when he felt a hand touch his hindquarters.

"It's alright," the Lemyazhmok said quietly.

Slowly a sort of dullness came over his hindquarters. He couldn't feel them, but yet he knew they were still there.

A grunt sounded. "It was barbed and poisoned, a terrible arrow, meant to kill," the Lemyazhmok said. "You are fortunate young Ilyé."

Ilyé opened his eyes. He could see there was a glowing in the cave.

"Now get up Ilyé," the Lemyazhmok said.

"I can't feel my hind legs," Ilyé replied.

"I'll make sure you don't drop off the cliff," the Lemyazhmok said. "Come on."

Reluctantly Ilyé gathered his legs under himself and got to his feet, furling his wings against his sides.

"Now come, let's leach out the poison," the Lemyazhmok said.

Ilyé followed the Lemyazhmok into his cave and slowly looked around.

It was a large, cavernous place; there was a pool whose edge was raised out of the stone floor to his right, and many books, boxes, jars, and more aligned on shelves to his left, where there was also sleeping quarters.

"Lie down on the bed," the Lemyazhmok said as he walked over to a shelf.

Ilyé obliged, moving uncertainly due to the numbness in his hindquarters.

The Lemyazhmok came over to his side, a small jar in his hand. He set the jar opening over the damp-looking place on Ilyé's hindquarters that made him feel squeamish to look at.

Closing his eyes, the Lemyazhmok took a deep breath and the jar glowed for a long time before the Lemyazhmok raised it up, turned it over, and put the cork in the mouth.

The jar was now filled with something that looked terribly dark green.

"What is that?" Ilyé asked.

"The poison from the arrow," the Lemyazhmok replied.

"There was that much?" Ilyé asked.

"Only because it was embedded in your flesh for so long," the Lemyazhmok replied.

"What are you going to do with it now?" Ilyé asked.

"I'm going to put it with all of the other poisons in my collection," the Lemyazhmok replied.

"You collect poisons?" Ilyé asked.

"Usually for revenge purposes," the Lemyazhmok replied. "I'll save the arrow for the same thing."

"And I can leave now?" Ilyé asked.

"Not yet," the Lemyazhmok replied. "First I need to do this," he pressed his hand over what Ilyé was sure was the wound where the arrow had entered.

When he raised his hand, there was no sign of it, which caused Ilyé to startle slightly."

Ascent: Day 3

Word Count: 18,004

Excerpt of the Day:

After finally making it nice and far away from his family, Ilyé ended up running into a friend of his father's who magically sent him back home to be tortured some more; but more of the tortures failed and finally his brother became convinced that Ilyé was cursing the family by his presence, so they decided to up and move, abandoning Ilyé in their house, where the Lemyazhmok found him . . .

Summary of Events:

""The waters have told me much about you," the Lemyazhmok said. "I haven't seen all of it, but I have seen a fair bit of it. Not all of it is easy even for one as great as me to understand, but it is enough to prove to me the truth: you are going to be very great."

The Lemyazhmok definitely had his attention now. He was going to be great? He couldn't begin to imagine how, but he hoped that part of it included paying his father and Nargya back for what they'd done to him.

"But before that can happen, a lot of other things need to happen first, Ilyé," the Lemyazhmok said.

He glared at the Lemyazhmok. How dare he use the name so familiarly.

The Lemyazhmok smiled, as if he'd noticed. "That would be the first one: you need to accept me, and trust me."

Oh really? And why should he do that?

"Here," the Lemyazhmok said, squeezing his hand as if he were grinding something and causing light to fall again.

A bowl of hot porridge appeared in the light and the Lemyazhmok held it out to him.

He looked at it warily. He didn't know that he wanted to take it.

"You haven't eaten in far too long, you must restore your strength if you are to come with me and fulfill your destiny," the Lemyazhmok said.

So he needed to go with the Lemyazhmok to fulfill his destiny now? He didn't see why he'd have to do that, but the smell of the porridge was making him desperately hungry, so he took it and ate.

With every bite he felt like he gained new strength. He wasn't sure that he'd eat the entire bowlful, but all too soon it was gone. He wished there was more.

"Now, will you come with me?" the Lemyazhmok asked.

"Why should I?" he asked defiantly.

"So as to fulfill your destiny," the Lemyazhmok replied.

"Surely I don't need you to fulfill my destiny," he snapped.

The Lemyazhmok looked at him seriously — not that he was sure how he could tell, being as the Lemyazhmok was still wearing his hood that kept his face from being seen — "Because it is your destiny to take my place after my days are completed."

His eyes widened. What?

"Once my life is complete, the waters tell me it is you who will be the Lemyazhmok, the greatest among all magicians," the Lemyazhmok said. "And there will be no Lemyazhmok who will be comparable to you in greatness, not even I.""

Ascent: Day 2

Word Count: 12,005

Summary of Events:

Ilyé's father tried and failed multiple times to rebuild his magic room with magic, then the Lemyazhmok made an appearance and rebuilt it for his father, despite their hatred of each other. Ilyé was subjected to more torture, but one of his father's spells failed and soon started a forest fire that Ilyé managed to escape before it was put out by the Lemyazhmok. Ilyé managed to stay away from home, but he couldn't sleep in the forest very well, especially when a dragon flew overhead; despite his fear of it, he followed it to see why it'd come . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

"The water was steaming heavily. He could see a dark-coloured tail sticking out of the lake water into the trees on the far bank.

Coming out of the steam toward the near bank was a great head that had a mouthful of jagged, pointy teeth, and great nostrils, large eyes that seemed to glow green slightly, and a significant amount of horny buildup toward the top, but no actual pointed horns jutting from it.

The huge lips were moving in coordination with the thunderous rumblings. He couldn't understand them, but he had a feeling the dragon was speaking in its own tongue anyways, and he didn't know the dragon-tongue.

Soon he noticed that, not far from the great dragon head, was a small figure, incredibly dwarfed by the dragon. One of his own kind, garbed in a cloak, and when the dragon rumbling went silent he saw gestures, indicating that the figure was speaking, but was too far away for him to make out what was being said.

As silently as he could, he advanced along the shoreline, keeping in the trees, straining his ears to understand what they were saying, hoping that the figure would be speaking his own tongue, and not the tongue of the dragons — not that he was sure how they would be able to understand each other that way — but he hoped it was so, just so that he could understand.

His journey was slow going as he both watched for obstacles and for whether or not the two conversing at the lakeshore had noticed him.

He managed to get quite close to them without being noticed, but found to his dismay that the figure was speaking in the dragon's tongue as well. He watched them talk for a long time, the steam continually rising from the lake, which he guessed was because the dragon was very warm.

Their tones of voice suggested that they were in agreement. There was no discrepancy, no cause for alarm. They were merely having a nice visit. He thought it odd that they would visit, and to do so in the night too, but then again, he could imagine many panicking at the sight of a dragon if it came to call in the daylight.

Finally the figure dipped low in a bow before the dragon, who then raised up its head, and then its great upper body, which seemed to make the steam fade some, and then spread its great wings.

The great creature surged upward and the dark wings flapped almost like thunder, only one beat carrying the dragon into the air, and then another beat a few moments later, settling into a slow rhythm that faded rather quickly.

Watching and listening to the dragon depart had distracted his focus from the figure on the shore, but now that the dragon had faded from sight he looked to the shore and noticed to his horror that the figure had turned to face him, and was looking directly into his eyes. It was the Lemyazhmok.

Ascent: Day 1

Word Count: 6,017

Summary of Events:

Ilyé was hiding from the rain being as he was forced to stay in a room with a poor roof when his brother came in and tried to work a magic spell — despite the fact that rain often had negative effects on spells — to disastrous effect . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

"His head snapped up at the sound of the door opening, causing his head to strike some of the broken stone that was above his head. A warm stream of blood ran down his face quickly, forcing him to close his right eye and watch Nargya with only his left.

Nargya had a large cloak on which the rain hit and rolled off of easily. He wished he had a cloak to shelter him, but then again, he wished he had a lot of things. It didn't help anything, though.

Pulling back a part of the curtain which protected the elixirs from the rain, Nargya reached around. He heard bottles clinking. Was Nargya going to be foolish enough to try a spell on him in the rain?

He reached up his hand to stem the bleeding and wished again, this time that the niche was larger, and had a curve in it so that he could be hidden from sight and shielded from the spells that were always directed his way.

Nargya looked to be moving quickly, but being as his back was in the way it was difficult to see what he was doing. Glowing elixir bottles came and went as his hands reached around in view, and finally light glowed in front of him.

Soon Nargya shifted around to show that he'd done one of the most difficult things for any magician to accomplish, especially those who, like them, used wands and elixirs: he'd created an orb.

From what little he'd seen of orbs, Nargya's looked rather unstable, with lots of sudden flashes snapping around it, and it looked rather wobbly too, not smooth, round, and steady. He cowered deeper into the niche, grimacing as broken stones dug into his body the harder he pressed it into the wall.

Stretching out his fingers in what looked a rather uncomfortable way, Nargya arced them around the orb and raised it without touching it until it was over his head. Smiling sinisterly at him, Nargya then threw the orb.

As soon as the rain touched it, the orb exploded in a bright flash and then a wave of force hit him and pushed him into the niche harder. He felt rocks falling on him and covered his head.

A louder and more powerful explosion then rocked the room and there was so much noise going on that he couldn't pick out where it was all coming from, he could just feel more rocks falling on him."

Nargya: nahrghyah