Fire and Rain

Author's Note ▼

Rewritten as a first chapter for a contest entry

CLARINDA'S MAGIC MISADVENTURES
         

By Graywriter

          CHAPTER 1: FIRE AND RAIN

          Clarinda Klanquer stared glumly at her spell book. Nothing was going right. The dark night and the heavy rain pelting against their dormitory window only reinforced her gloom.
          "Gloria," she called to her best friend and room-mate at her desk across their cramped and cluttered student quarters, "can you help me with these fire spells? I can't seem to raise so much as a single spark. Maybe it's all this rain."
          "I doubt that. I know you've been trying hard, because I've seen the smoke coming out of your ears. I thought for sure your brain was smoldering."
          "Ha, ha. Look here, does this or does this not say 'Ignis imperatus creatarus'? And is that or is that not the spell for starting a fire?"
          Gloria, as pert and pretty as Clarinda was plain, came and peered at Clarinda's notebook. "I'm not sure what that says. It looks like a tiny gargoyle with inky feet hopped across the page. But it should say 'creatatus'."
          Clarinda took her quill and scratched at one of the gargoyle footprints. "Thank you. Now, what about this one? To warm a small room. Use the general preparation followed by incantation of 'Ad calefacto vulva adamo'."
          "Oh, Clarinda!" Gloria giggled and blushed. "Wherever did you get that one? That spell will, um, warm up a part of a girl's body. I'm absolutely certain Ms. Fangustin wrote no such thing."
          "Come to think of it, Anthony Cressida whispered it to that chesty Ferina Plumkin while I was taking notes. I guess I got them mixed up. At least that explains why I got hot pants, but no warm room."
          "Here, copy from my notes while I take a break." Gloria passed over her spell book and headed for the toilets, murmuring as she went, "Ad calefacto...."
          Tongue clamped between her teeth, Clarinda diligently reviewed her friend's notes, and made several corrections to her own.
          Magic is so capricious. Hold your tongue wrong, or forget to look cross-eyed, or say one stupid word wrong, and the spell fails, or turns your pencil into a worm, or something. Well, let's try again.
          She ran through the general preparation instructions, which in this case involved placing tinder (a crumpled page from her notebook) on an altar (a pie plate) and focusing her attention. She intoned, "Ignis imperatus creatarus!" Nothing happened. Oh, right. Should be 'creatatus'.
          Just as she recited the corrected incantation, with greater emphasis--IGNIS IMPERATUS CREATATUS!--lightning streaked the sky and thunder shook the building.
          She blinked in sudden darkness. There were shrieks and curses from up and down the dormitory. Apparently all the candles and lamps had gone out. She heard doors bang open and girls began wandering the halls, calling to each other and laughing.
          Clarinda realized that she could see her room in a dim red light. She felt warm, even hot, all over her body, and the smell of smoke crisped her nostrils. Looking at herself, she realized that she was glowing cherry-red, and her clothes were on fire. So was the desk where she had rested her hand.
          She rushed into the hallway, not realizing that wherever her feet touched the floor, she left a tiny blaze. Everyone gasped and drew back from her. "Clarinda, you're on fire!" several shouted. "Stop! Drop! Roll!" called one. "Get outside in the rain!" someone more sensible advised.
          Leaving a blotch of fire with every step, she fled.
         

# # #

          The downpour sizzled off her heated skin. Her clothes had pretty much burned away, and she found it pleasant being naked in the rain. She pointed at a nearby bush, murmured the fire incantation, and was delighted when it burst into flames. A few charred saplings later, she realized she need only think the words and she got fire. She held out her open palm, and despite the pooling rain, created a handful of flame that she could control from a gentle glow to a roaring blaze. Wow, this was great stuff! For the first time, she felt like a real sorceress.
          She looked back at the dormitory. Smoke streamed from a few windows, and groups of soggy students milled around in the quad, but the downpour and the spells of the masters and some senior students had evidently extinguished the blaze.
          The rain tapered off to a drizzle. Her inner glow and its accompanying euphoria faded, and she began to shiver in the damp night air.
          Oh, Aerlon, what have I done? I almost burned down the whole girls' dorm. I am in so much trouble! If Ms. Fangustin doesn't kill me, I'll be in detention for the rest of my life.
          On the other hand, a lifetime of detention meant she wouldn't be expelled and forced to go home and marry that horse's back-end, Darrell, as her parents had arranged. At least there was no need for her to be cold. She conjured a glow in her cupped hands, wrapped herself in flame as temporary clothing, and trudged back to the dorm to face her punishment.
         

# # #

          A hall monitor led the cooled and re-dressed Clarinda to the office of the headmistress. As they approached, they could hear the strident voice of Ms. Fangustin through the closed door. "The girl is a menace, a walking disaster," she screeched. "She is distracted in class, takes shoddy notes, fails to complete assignments and those she does attempt she messes horribly."
          Clarinda squirmed: that was all true.
          The monitor knocked, opened the door, pushed Clarinda into the room, and fled. The trembling novice found herself facing the furious Fangustin, skinny and waspish in her rage. The headmaster and headmistress looked on with apparent calm, though their slight frowns and firm lips suggested otherwise.
          "Well, close the door and come in, child," invited Mistress Leafbrook.
          Clarinda sidled in, shoulders hunched as though anticipating a blow. The adults were seated, but there was no chair for her. Evidently she was to stand while they sat in judgment.
          "You stupid amateur!" began Fangustin. "Of all the fool stunts to pull! You nearly--"
          "A moment, please, Ms. Fangustin," interrupted Master Runebluff. "Would you be so kind, girl, as to tell us what happened in the dormitory earlier this evening? Leave nothing out, please."
          She told them everything. When she got to the girl-part-warming spell, Ms. Fangustin looked like she'd swallowed a rat, while the heads merely nodded for her to continue.
          "Very good, thank you," said the Master when she had finished. "Do you think you could demonstrate? It's quite all right. With us here, it will be safe. We've prepared a fire in the grate. Would you light it, please?"
          Clarinda looked over at the fireplace and saw tinder, kindling, and logs ready to go. Without moving from where she stood, she ignited the tinder and smiled as she watched it blaze.
          "Excellent. Now can you do the Handful of Fire spell for us?"
          Clarinda held out her cupped hands and created a soft bed of coals. When the Master nodded, she grew it into small flames; at another nod, a roaring blaze. At a gesture from the Mistress, she folded her hands and the flame cut off.
          "See? I told you she's a danger to herself and others," snapped Ms. Fangustin. The Master waved her quiet.
          "Does it hurt you to work with Fire, child?"
          "No, sir, Normal magic gives me sniffles and stuffed sinuses, but the fire spells are fun and easy."
          "It is intriguing that you find it easy, since what you are doing is advanced Elemental magic," began Runebluff.
          "What she is doing is risking the lives of every student and master in this school," snarled Fangustin. "She needs to be punished and then expelled!"
          "Please do not interrupt again," snapped Runebluff. The teacher responded with a haughty huff.
          "Clarinda, there are post-graduate sorcerers who cannot do this as quickly and easily. I daresay even Ms. Fangustin would struggle to match that speed and ease." Fangustin turned red and looked furious.
          "Our concern is for the safety of yourself, others, and the school. You are known to be impulsive, and to attempt spells without due concern for preparation or correct incantation. For this reason, we will restrict your ability with a binding spell. Your access to the element of fire will be limited, as will your control. Further, for the sake of student discipline, you will serve one week of detention, under direction of Ms. Fangustin."
          He looked at the teacher. "Does that satisfy?"
          "Not nearly, but I suppose it will have to do."
          "Very well. Clarinda, your detention will start after supper tomorrow night. Damage to the dormitory was minor and your room is restored and ready. Go and get some sleep. You are dismissed. Ms. Fangustin, please do remain."
          Clarinda paused in the hall outside the door, thinking. A week's detention was not harsh; it would end well before the level one exams. A limit on her ability to harm was reasonable. Just as an experiment, she tried to ignite the paper in a near-by trash basket: nothing. She held out a palm and was able to call up a small glow. Good enough, and definitely better than being sent home to a forced marriage to Darrel-under-the-horse's-tail.
          Ms. Fangustin hurled the door open and stormed out of the room but jerked to a stop on spotting her troublesome student. Clarinda's feelings of relief withered and died at the sight of her teacher's sudden smirk.
          "You-- you-- you! Ha! Mine for a week, yes," Fangustin hissed "You will beg for expulsion!" The cruel delight in her smile promised Clarinda seven days of hell. Fangustin's cackle of laughter and the clangor of imagined wedding bells pursued her as she fled to her room.