Read The Black Mage: Apprentice for Free Online Page B

turn.
    "All right, mentees, this time in your
castings I want you to focus on time. Try to hold your partner in
the air for as long as you can. Once you feel comfortable, try
alternating the pressure and keeping the same five feet level.
Being able to maintain a stable pain casting – no matter the
pressure - will help train your magic should you be caught off
guard with an unexpected injury." The man paused, his ice blue eyes
locking onto me. "Some of you could certainly use the
practice."
    Ignoring the disparaging comment, I set to
work in my casting. I would gladly practice Byron's drills all
night, if only so he could see me try. Not that the man would ever
acknowledge I was. Trying, that is.
    "If you drop me I won't hold it against
you."
    I tried to smile at Ian but it did little to
mask the anxiety in my throat. Concentrate Ryiah . I gently
dug the blade into my right palm, refusing to flinch as the sudden
pain released my magic. Ian was instantly hovering in the air.
    I let him float for a minute more before I
decided to test the pressure, alternating between light spurts of
pain. Ian remained level. I took turns nicking my fingers and
sliced deeper into my palm, trembling as my casting fought to
increase and dissipate in union with the hurt. I willed it to hold
and braced myself as magic and pain continued to surge through me,
struggling to break free.
    My eyes watered and burned but I ignored
them. Ever since the incident during my first-year trials pain had
made my magic unstable. Which meant the past three months were a
nightmare to train in. Every little injury opened a floodgate of
pain magic – and if it was bad enough, like in the case of my
fractured arm earlier, I wasn't always able to hold it back.
    Ella suspected a barrier had broke – the one
that usually kept my pain magic at bay. During the trials I had
attempted a pain casting, spearing myself with a sword and sending
an entire building crumbling in its wake. The act had been rash,
and it only made sense that so much magic and a near-death
experience would leave a large crack in my defense. Normally people
built up to that level of casting, slowly, with incremental levels
of pain – not the other way around. Master Byron had implied as
much when I had first come to him with the question.
    "Practice. It is the only way you are going
to exert any control over your pain castings. We avoid teaching it
to the first-years for a reason, apprentice. Now because of your
ill-chosen act you will be battling powers much stronger than a
second-year should deal with."
    It was the reason the masters saved the
method for apprenticeship.
    "A mage is always fighting against pain
castings during injury – usually they spend years working up to the
magic you will be fighting now. You broke a barrier that requires a
control you do not – and will not - have for many years."
    I had been crestfallen and angry when I'd
first heard the master's diagnosis. But Darren, in a random moment
of kindness, had pointed out something I'd missed. Yes, I would be
forced to battle stronger forces than everyone else who had pain
magic, but I would also be competent faster as a result. "I did
something similar to you two years before I joined the Academy,"
he'd confessed. "I still fight pain magic when I get hurt, but if
you were to watch me pain cast now you would see I have a lot more
control than the others." And he'd been right.
    Blinking, I realized that Darren and I were
the only ones still casting. The other two mentees – two
fourth-years had already quit. Moment later my own palms trembled
and I knew it was time to end.
    I lowered Ian to the ground, releasing the
pressure of the knife.
    Two minutes later the non-heir followed
suit.
    "Well done, Darren. Ryiah that was…
acceptable." The master seemed to be pulling the words from his
teeth.
    The mentors took over casting. I braced
myself for Ian's inevitable misstep but nothing bad happened. The
third-year seemed to be