Isidor said, putting on his mantle of teacher.
Tartum half flew to get his spell book and was twice as quick to get outside. He found Isidor just ouside the wagon, unrolling one of the scrolls Tartum had written. Another one had already been unrolled and was laying face up on the ground. Tartum went to stand next to his Master, spell book in hand.
“First things first. Open your book to the first page.” Isidor said.
Tartum obeyed without question. He opened his book to the first page and looked up at Isidor. He handed Tartum the scroll he had just finished writing today.
“Now, place the left edge against the inside binding of your spell book, open yourself to the source, and let it flow into the parchment. Once the parchment is infused, flow the magic through it, into your spell book. Just like with the quill, when you were writing the scroll.” Isidor instructed.
Tartum opened himself to the magic and did as he was told. The magic flowed through him and into the parchment. The words on the paper flared to life, and when the magic completely infused the scroll, the whole parchment began to glow with the same blue light the words did. Doing as he was instructed, Tartum then concentrated his focus on shifting the magic from the infused scroll, to his spell book. The reaction was incredible. Tartum felt his book come alive and was lost in the ecstasy that came with successful magic. He felt like he had found his long lost soul mate or something he had been missing his whole life. It was the most amazing experience of his life, everytime it happened.
On the outskirts of his reason, Tartum could faintly hear someone familiar yelling. He looked at the man yelling at him and did not recognize him. Beyond the ecstasy, he felt almost nothing, yet something inside him told him to listen to the stranger. He didn’t want to, the sensation was completely wonderful. The nagging “voice-thing” inside him wouldn’t be ignored, however and the conflicting feelings disturbed the ecstasy of the sensation. The man did look familiar, and the desire to obey him was strong. He was saying something to him. Tartum couldn’t hear him over the rush of the magic coursing through him, but he could make out the words by concentrating on the stranger’s mouth.
Kak-Gereta...Krak-kereta...Korack-Jeeta. Korack-Jeeta. “ Korack-Jeeta? ” Tartum said, more of a question then a statement. The magic left him, the sensation flowing out of him as fast as the magic was. He was himself again, the magic’s hold over him had vanished with the words, and Tartum collapsed. He was gasping for air, he felt like he had just ran for ten miles, uphill, with a pack of starving wolves hot on his heels. Isidor was shaking him, telling him to stay awake, to stay with him. He seemed close to tears. Tartum held up his hand to indicate to his master, he was ok and just needed some time to recover. He had no idea what had happened, but it was exilerating! The sensation was fantastic! He couldn’t wait to do it again.
While he was catching his breath and waiting for his heart to stop trying to beat through his ribcage, Tartum wondered at why Isidor had him invoke that spell without warning him. The only two conclusions he could come up with, as he laid on the ground, breathing like a dog suffering from heat stroke, were that, one, Isidor had no idea that was going to happen; or two, Isidor was testing him. He was hoping it wasn’t the latter. Tartum enjoyed the sensation, but hated the aftermath of his most recent experience. After putting more thought into it, Tartum decided Isidor had no idea it was going to happen. He had been about to cry when Tartum came out of it, and he had never seen Isidor cry. What the hell was going on?!
“Isidor...what...happened?” Tartum said between breaths. It had been almost ten minutes, before he was finally able to wheeze out the words.
Isidor roused at Tartum’s question. He composed himself while Tartum was
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