And So the Student Has Surpassed the Master

"And so the student has surpassed the master." 

I will always remember the day my mentor told me that. The pride and satisfaction that made up his whispery voice; the mirth and joy that caused the edges of his eyes to crinkle below his bushy white eyebrows.

As a mage's apprentice I knew what I would be getting myself into: that there was little chance I could be a wife, or mother children; that I would spend my days studying and practicing. I would live at the edge of the kingdom with my mentor while I honed my magic, cooped up in the towers of the fief castle, agonizing over my annual assessments that would track my progress on my way to mastery.

It was not a very social life, but I never much minded that downside of training: very few people could ever be in the position I was in, and so I cherished it to the best of my ability despite the many setbacks and doubts I had during my days as an apprentice.

Oh, but the day of my graduation was euphoric! I remember my robes for the occasion: dark blue and embroidered with fine, silver thread. I had never been wealthy enough to possess such clothes before and had felt quite giddy in them, to say the least. I was still a young woman at that time, so of course I spent time gawking over myself in private, standing before a mirror and spinning in the flowing fabrics.

Thankfully, the actual ceremony was not too long, but it was done in as much regency and precision as anything I had ever experienced even to this day.

The transition from apprentice to mage was odd, to say the least, but I performed well. Years flew by, and I kept up my studies. My power grew, and magic was second nature to me; as easy as breathing.

Upon the death of the last Kingdom Court Mage, it was decided that I take his place among the Council—the highest position a mage could hold. I, a woman, in the most powerful position my art could offer me! There was some, of course, who were begrudged to the idea but could not deny me my skill. I performed my job with as much logic and leadership as I possessed, and in hindsight I hope my old mentor would be proud of me—may he rest in peace.

When I grew older, and age took from me my youthful resilience and energy, I knew it was time I take on an apprentice.

Gawain was as much an enthusiastic apprentice as I remember myself being. He was short for his age and rather scrawny, with a mess of black hair that crowned his head. I found out early on that he had a natural ease with magic—something I admit not possessing in my early years of training.

Not surprisingly, Gawain excelled in the field of magic, but, sadly, was impatient and unsteady with his castings. There was many times Gawain's magic got away from him, almost as though his magic could not be contained in his mortal body. I taught him meditation and ways to keep his magic tame, and though he learned them well enough, I realize now he utilized the techniques rarely.

Gawain soon grew out of his lanky, adolescent body, and his face matured in the way any young man hopes it would.

His magic was no different: as Gawain matured, so did his magic—powerful, awesome, and terrifying.

I don't know when I first started losing his admiration—for I know it was there in the beginning—but it slipped away from me: slowly, like water dripping through the cracks of an old, failing dam. Perhaps it was because I mothered him too much, having praised too often and asserted too sparingly. The boy that had started off slightly impatient, overly giddy, but altogether willing of my teachings had grown arrogant, pretentious, and condescending.

However it came to be, I lost the connection, and despite myself, I grew apprehensive.

During what would be his final years as an apprentice, I soon realized Gawain had far surpassed my strength and power. And, at eighteen—the year that would hold his final assessment and graduation—Gawain realized this too.

I remember wrangling my doubts and troubles one crisp, fall morning and sitting Gawain down on the porch of the old cabin we both lived in to express my worry for him.

"I believe it best we postpone your assessment," I stated. My apprentice's brows furrowed, and his dark eyes grew cold.

"Postpone?" His laugh was cold, and he scoffed at me. I said nothing to him, and the dry smile faded from Gawain's face when he realized I was serious.

"There's no need to postpone my assessment! I've far surpassed any apprentice currently in training!" He stood from the seat beside me and turned to look down at me: "You can't do this to me!"

I stood calmly, meeting Gawain's eyes. "It was both myself and the Council who decided it would not be wise to have you graduate. Your magic excels over others, yes, but I do not believe you carry the right attitude about your power to be called a master."

Gawain said nothing for the next few moments. His hands curled into fists and his jaw clenched.

"You fear my power. That's what it is," he whispered to me. "I'm stronger than you, and you don't want me getting into a position of power, because that means you won't be the greatest anymore!" His eyes went wild, and magic curled around his hands, eating at his palms.

I looked desperately at him, mouth agape. "Gawain, this has nothing to do with something as petty as my pride! I can only blame myself for having to postpone your graduation, but know that magic is not about power! It is about knowing how to wield it and learn from it!" I calmed myself, and shook my head. "Gawain, all you have learned from your magic is the power it grants you. You are not ready to proceed any further right now."

Gawain took a step back, and his magic flared again, crawling up his arms. His lifted his chin and swallowed. "I won't let you keep this from me."

"Gawain, please, I—"

Enraged, Gawain raised his hand and sent a spell forward, rocketing towards me. I countered, but my speed was affected by my surprise and I stumbled.

"How could you betray me like this?" Gawain screamed, stalking forward and causing me to trip off the porch and onto the open grass. "I could be the most powerful mage to come out of this kingdom, yet you want to forfeit me that opportunity?"

"I want to give you the chance to hone your magic even further, Gawain!" I countered, straightening myself from my fumble. "You still have things to learn, things that are keeping you from graduating, things that will—"

"My magic is already honed." His face twisted in anger, and Gawain threw his hands forward, shouting Latin that was obscured by the sound of crackling energy.

I gathered up my magic and shielded the attack, but could not ignore the strength my apprentice's spell held. Seeing another attack coming, I uttered my own spell and cast it.

The next moments were a blur for me, and even to this day I cannot fathom the power that came from him: the crazed and angered look in my apprentice's eyes, the obscenities shouted at me from someone I had known since childhood—worst of all was his magic: pure, wild energy, stronger than my own and any other mage I had ever encountered.

At the mercy of another wild, tearing burst of magic, my sight turned black, my ears rang in a high-pitched, whining tone, and the world twisted. I felt myself hit the ground, felt the grass against my cheeks and hands. I tried lifting myself, but my arms failed me.

I heard Gawain cast another spell through the ringing in my ears and not a second later did the impact of the spell seize my limbs and nerves. I brought up my own spell to find Gawain and immobilize him, only to find my apprentice's mind and body cocooned tightly in a web of seething magic—one my own could barely penetrate.

I heard footsteps grow closer to me. My eyesight returned, only barely, and I had enough energy to turn and shakily look at my student before me.

His eyes blazed and his chest rose and fell with his hectic breathing. He clenched his jaw and took a deep breath through his nose. He opened his mouth, and I shall never forget the hatred that was housed in my apprentice's voice that day. . .

"And so the student has surpassed the master."