Macromancy (Chapter 2)

“How very kind of you to say. Flattery is a fine thing, apprentice. But compliments won’t make you a better sorcerer. And I believe you know this. Why are you really asking about macromancy? Because you know all too well that you’d never be permitted to use anything I taught you about it outside of this room, or else you’d end up exiled right beside me. So, why then? Is it to amuse yourself? To mock me? To gain a good story you can tell your friends back home in that miserable kingdom full of such pathetic pretenders, so you can say that you witnessed forbidden magic performed before your own eyes?”

That flare of aggression in Caelia’s retort made Darvan anxious at first, until he realized that there wasn’t anger behind these words, but a great deal of hurt. Much like his own. In that moment, he sympathized with her.

“No, Master. I swear. I only want to understand, to be the best I can be, and… be of help to you, in some small way. If I can. It would be so tragic, if no one was ever allowed to appreciate your real power.”

Caelia’s expression softened then, as she seemingly accepted this reply (or at least wasn’t openly infuriated by it), which caused Darvan to partially let down his guard. This made what happened next all the more startling. In a painless yet body-wracking flash that felt paradoxically at once like being thrown into ice-cold water and gently falling asleep all at once, Darvan dropped supine upon the marble. This was different than any of the more-pedestrian spells Caelia had cast his way already for these as-yet unsuccessful training sessions. Even before Darvan quite understood what had happened, he innately sensed the sheer earth-shaking will-dominating power of whatever magic had just passed through him at her command. At his next blink, the novice sorcerer found himself looking up at Caelia, only not just as he would if he’d fallen to the ground, but rather in the way he’d look up toward a colossal mountain’s dizzying peak far above. His eyes bulged and his jaw dropped, as he realized instantly that his master had indeed granted his request, albeit in actions rather than words.

This was it. This was macromancy: the very rare discipline she’d once demonstrated with such awe-inspiring strength that it earned her a lifetime marooning.

Not only had Darvan just been shrunk down to roughly the size of a mouse, but Caelia herself now loomed huge in the expansive chamber, having enlarged herself until she towered high enough to touch her auburn crown against the distant ceiling. The absolute gulf between their sizes was breathtaking, flooding him with even greater reverence and appreciation for her power than he already felt. And even though Darvan had just experienced but a taste of Caelia’s actual might, he could sense how effortless that shift had been for her. Such complex sorcery couldn’t have been simpler for her. His pulse pounded and his head swam, not with terror, but rather exhilaration, even while there was something objectively scary about such a supremely capable magic-wielder.

“I can sense in your heart and your mind that your words are genuine. You don’t wish to entertain yourself or ridicule me,” Caelia softly declared in a voice that nonetheless resonated deeply through the hall like rolling thunder. With her enormous hands planted upon her stately hips, her dark emerald robes billowed as she stepped forth, causing the floor to tremor every so slightly with each measured impact by her massive bare soles. “But still, this truth I sense only means you believe you are ready to learn even a fraction of my power. And belief is not ability. It is not reality. So, apprentice. Can you REALLY handle what makes me, as you said, one of the most powerful people alive? Are you even close to prepared?”

Darvan was at a loss for words, overcome with total deferential amazement to this nonchalant display of the strongest magic he’d ever seen. Though even if he’d managed reply aloud, it seemed Caelia’s last question was rhetorical, because she didn’t offer him much opportunity to speak again. Instead, the lovely larger-than-life giantess paused just before taking her next step, as the supple peach-pearly orbs of her right-foot toes came to rest like plush boulders within brushing distance of where her apprentice was left to lie. And then Caelia raised her foot again, though much slower and more deliberately this time, allowing it to hover in midair just over her student. As if preparing to step on him. Darvan was abruptly swallowed by the shadow of that humongous sole, which dwarfed him so absurdly that he could’ve easily been hidden beneath her pinky toe. Yet he still didn’t feel any true dread, even though she could technically crush him right now: only increased appreciation for the unrelenting power advantage she lorded over him. It wasn’t that Darvan was without dignity or pride himself, either. His response to her superiority was as natural as breathing, and he could only imagine that just as many people – if only they were allowed to witness Caelia’s macromancy in full bloom – might feel this same rightfully humbled awareness and astonishment, rather than the horror and disapproval the governing council had suffered instead to banish her. Staring up-close now at the underside of his master’s gargantuan naked foot, Darvan observed every skin cell, every smooth contour, every blushing hue, and every meaty wrinkle making up the living treasure map of her ample sole like squishy riverbeds.

“Y-Yes, Master,” he breathlessly squeaked out. “Yes, I… am prepared.”

“I see,” Caelia boomed again.

Then her foot descended, as if aiming the doughy epicenter of her bare sole squarely for her shrunken apprentice on the ground. Darvan tensed in readiness but didn’t try to crawl away or protest, nor even did he flinch, as the talented giantess dipped her foot just low enough to place the puttied terrain of her arch in direct yet controlled contact with his flat upturned little body. Bizarrely, it felt almost like Caelia was knighting him, only using her immense foot instead of just a sword, and again her miniature pupil felt a spark of her true power through that touch. The warmth of her skin alone was intoxicating, as was the aroma of loamy earth and night sweat mixed with a hint of sweet elderberry. Darvan had indeed only asked his master about her true power with the intentions of enriching his own meager skills and, if possible, offering her the chance to put her real skills to use – yet a part of him still feared initially that he’d made a mistake in inviting such chaos on himself. But now, with Caelia’s prodigious foot gently reposed upon his oddly relaxed little body, he was more certain than ever that he’d made the right decision here.

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THE END (for now)