Novice's Trial

Vayne stood in the Trial Room of the Wizards’ Tower. It was a small nondescript, square room set away from the rest of the Tower on the first level, containing only one old, rickety table and an even older chair. The room was lit by four candles in the corners of the room, as this was on the first floor and could not have windows and still be defensible. The candlelight suited the room in Vayne’s eyes, as it made everything look more intense and serious. This was the Trial Room, after all; where hopefuls who wanted to join the ranks of the Wizards of the Wizards’ Tower came to be tested and those who had finished their apprenticeship would be tested to see if they were ready to receive their blue, green, or even red robes. Although Vayne remembered reading that those who picked the red robes often met strange deaths not long after choosing that course.

He grinned to himself, considering what had happened to those stupid enough to declare themselves as followers of Zamorak when surrounded by Saradominists. He glanced around the room once more, his foot tapping as he waited impatiently for the examiner to arrive. However, he was no longer tapping a leather boot against the floor. The wizards had been kind to Vayne, giving him some new clothes made of white cotton and some soft shoes. However, their kindness was lost on Vayne, who thought it was only his right to receive those gifts. He leaned upon his staff thoughtfully, wondering what the exam would be; a demonstration of magical power or perhaps just a simple test to see if he could use runes?

The wood-and-iron door opened and Vayne’s thoughts came screeching to a halt. He turned at the sound as the examiner entered the room, his blue robes flowing behind him and beautiful Saradomin Staff tapping against the stone floor softly. He moved quickly and sat down, adjusting the old blue Wizards’ Hat that rested on his long silver hair and leaning his staff against a corner. He fixed the ruffles in his robe and untangled his Legends’ Cape, which was made of the brightest white material and was strangely cut into several bands that fell from the top of the cape. Then he looked up at Vayne, revealing the old but vibrant face and shining silver beard of the Head Wizard himself, Sedridor.

Vayne stepped back, surprised, but Sedridor’s eyes returned to his desk, looking at a piece of paper that Vayne had filled out after he had arrived yesterday afternoon. Vayne took the moment to admire the legendary old wizard and his staff. Vayne was slightly disappointed at the man, for he looked as you would expect a wizard to look; old, venerable, but still possessing an energy that belied his old age; nothing particularly extraordinary there. But the staff! The staff was exceptionally beautiful, a symbol of what Vayne hoped to achieve. It was silver and smooth with a stunningly brilliant gold four-pointed star resting at the top. The flickering candle-light made it look as if magic was moving around its golden surface.

Sedridor cleared his throat loudly and Vayne realized that time had slipped away as he imagining himself with a similar weapon, but perhaps more dangerous looking, gaining the respect of those who had spurned him. But instead of that weapon, he was painfully aware of his plain wooden stick that, while smooth and strong, was nothing in comparison to that mighty and beautiful staff. Sedridor looked at him sternly, his gaze scolding Vayne, and Vayne returned his gaze with a glare from his intense red eyes.

Sedridor was the one to break contact, looking down at the paper. He pointed to the paper and then inquired in a clear voice that was equally accustomed to kind words and harsh reproaches, “Well, Vayne, you wrote here that you have had no prior training in the magical arts before coming here, beside Self-Training?” Sedridor’s eyebrows knitted together in disapproval; those who were self-taught hardly ever managed to pass even the first part of the Novice’s Trial.

Vayne smirked and nodded. He was slightly angered that he had to remain standing while the wizard sat, but it allowed him to look down at the wizard, allowed him to feel a bit of misplaced self-importance.

Sedridor frowned but nodded slowly. “Very well, Vayne. I am Head Wizard Sedridor, a faithful servant of Saradomin. I am here to give you your Novice’s Trial, so here is your first test.” Sedridor reached inside his robe and produced a bolt tipped with a tiny opal, two Air runes, and an Astral rune. He pushed these to Vayne’s side of the table and then leaned back in his chair, ready to be amused by Vayne’s attempt to enchant the opal bolt. He swished his hand through the air as he proclaimed, “Enchant the Opal Bolt.”

Vayne nodded, walking forward to the table. He stared at the bolt, thinking hard. Although opals were the easiest of all of the items to enchant, he had never before attempted it, or even gotten his hands on an opal for that matter. Nevertheless, he picked up the runes and the bolt, his head bowed and eyes screwed up in concentration. His form seemed to sag against the table as pulled upon the magical part of him to enchant the bolt.

Then the bolt glowed with bright orange light that radiated off of every surface, especially the Saradomin Staff. The bolt stopped glowing after a mere two seconds, but Vayne was satisfied and laid the bolt down on the table carefully, as a mother would lay down her child.

Sedridor leaned forward; surprised that Vayne had managed to enchant the bolt. He smiled slightly and picked up the bolt. “Very good. Now, let’s see if you managed to enchant the bolt fully, or only got half-way there.” Vayne’s nose crinkled up, insulted.

Sedridor did not notice as he reached inside his cloak and pulled out a small, plain leather pouch with a great silver wolf stitched into the side. He tossed the pouch to the ground and it was immediately replaced by a stunningly beautiful silver and blue Spirit Wolf. The Spirit Wolf looked around and spotted its master and then proceeded to run up to him and nudge him playfully. Sedridor frowned sternly and ordered the wolf to stand on the opposite side of the room. The wolf obeyed, dejected, and moved past Vayne without a look. The wolf was a majestic and strong creature, coming up to Vayne’s waist in height and possessing a width that was longer than Vayne was tall, despite the fact that he was the lowest of all of the summons.

No sooner had the wolf turned about to face his master than Sedridor had launched the opal bolt at the poor thing. It jumped back in surprise, not really seriously hurt by the thrown bolt that was now sticking out of its front left leg but deeply surprised that its master had attacked it. It whined softly for a moment, but stopped abruptly when a bolt of lightning suddenly took form above it and struck it down. Vayne shielded his eyes from the strangely orange but still blinding flash and then tried to cover his ears as light thunder echoed around the room. The wolf’s ashes faded away.

Sedridor smiled widely and clapped. “Well done, an excellent enchantment!” Vayne let out a deep sigh of relief; surprised that he had managed to enchant the bolt on his first try. His relief was short-lived, however as Sedridor pulled from his pocket a jumbled pile of runes. Sedridor sat back in his chair, regarding Vayne for a moment. Vayne stared back.

Sedridor motioned to the runes, “You have passed the first test, and here is the second. This is, to some, the hardest test. To others, it is laughably easy. You have one minute; sort these runes into seven Air Strikes, three Confuses, a Water Strike, and two Earth Strikes. Begin.” Sedridor sat back leisurely in his chair, tipping his hat so that it covered his eyes.

Vayne frowned, but he set to work immediately. First he sorted them according to type, so that individual stacks of Air, Water, Earth, Mind, and Body runes rested on the table. Then he recalled the books he had so vigorously studied in the Varrock Palace Library, remembering the spells written between those leather covers. His hands moved in a blur as he sorted out the runes. A few seconds later, the runes were organized as specified, but with a few Air, Mind, and Earth runes left over. Then Vayne waited, taking the time to stare longingly at the beautiful Saradomin Staff.

About thirty seconds later, Sedridor lifted his hand and proclaimed, “Times up!” He bent over, looking down at the runes that Vayne had sorted. He had done perfectly, seven Air Strikes, three Confuses, one Earth Strike, and two Water Strikes, with two Air, Earth and Mind runes left over. That was particularly impressive, for many hopefuls failed the test because they saw the left over runes and thought that they must have made a mistake.

He sat back, smiling. “Very good. You have passed the second test.” Vayne did not sigh with relief this time, for he had known without doubt that he succeeded. Sedridor frowned slightly. “The first two trials tested your magical skill, power, and knowledge. Now it is time to see how you fight. Some believe the best of a person comes out in battle. So, prepare yourself and fight well!”

Sedridor pulled a pouch with a goblin stitched into the side out of his pouch and threw it to the ground. Vayne stepped back, surprised, as a Goblin jumped out, for he did not know that a Goblin summon even existed! It jeered at him, revealing the few, yellow teeth it had left in its rather large mouth. It was very short, about one-half Vayne’s size, but had muscles bulging from his green skin under his brown, poorly made goblin-mail. He had twinkling, mischievous brown eyes under his rusty old medium helmet. He swung the sharp wooden stick that he called his trusty spear and charged.

Vayne did the first thing to mind; he swatted his staff at the Goblin’s head. It connected with a solid thunk and sent the goblin flying sideways into the wall. The goblin crawled back to his knees, glaring at Vayne with near-primal rage. He lowered his spear and prepared to stubbornly charge again.

But Vayne was not going to let him charge.

An Air Strike struck the goblin in the face, sending him back to into the wall. Another Air Strike hit the goblin, then another, and another until the air runes were completely exhausted. He still glared at the goblin, but he merely sank to the ground in defeat. Then he faded away as the Summon ended.

The chair scraped against the floor as Sedridor stood up. He offered his old but firm hand to Vayne saying, “Welcome, Vayne, to the Wizards’ Tower!”

Sedridor sat in a bare, plain room in the basement of the Wizards’ Tower. This room was where he came to think and be in private, for it was hidden away from the rest of the tower. It was deep, deep underneath the tower, connected only by an old tunnel known only to the Head Wizards themselves.

He leaned back in his old, soft chair, his eyes closed in concentration. His hat was down over his eyes to keep out the flickering light that came from the single candle on the wall. His silver beard moved as he mouthed words that were transferred across the land to Varrock through a complex and very difficult spell.

“He is indeed extremely talented, perhaps as great as you or Traiborn… But he seems to have the make of a Zamorakian mage.”

A voice filled his ears, the old voice of Aubrey echoing from his shop. “What makes you think this, my old wise friend?”

“He fought the goblin ruthlessly, obliterated it without hesitation. Not afraid of destroying a living life.”

“Hmm… Perhaps he is just the type that likes to attack everything with all that he has to complete his goals.”

“I fear that he is straying towards the path of Zamorak.”

There was a pause, but Aubrey did reply after a few moments. “That is the truth; he is indeed falling towards evil. I sent him to you in hope that you and the other kind wizards can change him. Can I count on you for that, old friend?”

Sedridor nodded to himself. “We will try.”