Powder and Smoke

[Therin]

The ceiling arched high overhead, as though the great hall was a pathway beneath the arms of titans. The sun was low on the horizon, but couldn't be seen through the massive oak double doors. Twelve tapestries hung on the walls, dour visages of ancient headmasters glaring down at the contents of this huge, hallowed room.

"Kneel."
"Yes ins-"
A dull thwack echoed off the rafters. "Do not speak unless spoken to."

The target of this rage stifled a sob and fell to his knees, hands quivering in his lap, lanky hair hanging limp and drenched with sweat over his face.

"Recite the vows."
"Yes, ins-"
Another blow, followed with remorseless severity: "RECITE THE VOWS!!"
"This gun is mine and mine alone!"
A heavy switch revealed itself in a gnarled, upraised hand for just a bare fraction of a second, then whistled down and connected with a wet, bone-jarring thud. The kneeling boy cried out in pain.
"Next vow."
The words came out in a rush. "I hold it not with m-my hand but with my m-mind and my heart!"
Another thud, and another sobbing cry. "Next vow."
"I fire it with my hand and m-my hand alone!"
Thud. "The mind and heart are nothing but obstacles." Thud. "To the purity of the trigger." Thud. "Next vow!"
The boy was on his hands and knees now, his whole body shaking, racked with sobs. He stuttered once and fell silent again, and was rewarded with a particularly violent hammer blow from the switch.
"NEXT VOW!!"
"If I fire this gun in anger I am unworthy to be its master!"
Thud. "Next vow!"
"If I fire this gun in shame I am unworthy to be its master!"
Thud. "Next vow!"
"If I fire this gun in sadness I am unworthy to be its master!"
Thud.
"If I-"
Lightning quick, the switch came down again. "DO NOT SPEAK UNLESS SPOKEN TO!"
The boy collapsed with a sob, and was immediately hauled to his feet with a curse. "Get up, you spineless worm!"
He staggered, but managed to hold his feet until the switch ripped sidearm through the air once more, bringing him to his knees. "Next vow!"
"If I fire this gun in laughter I am unworthy to be its master!"
One final, violent, screaming blow, and then temporary silence. Then the instructor spoke again.
"Final vow."
The boy stuttered, sobbed, and spoke, "The gun and the Void are inextricably joined; the Void is the only refuge from which my aim can be true. To fire the gun outside the Void is to be unworthy."
"Which of those sins did you commit today?"
"I f-fired my gun in anger."
"And my star pupil died for it." The instructor raised the switch, and punctuated his next sentence, "And it will. Not. Happen. Again."
"Yes instructor."
"Get out of my academy."
"But-"
"GET OUT!!!"
Sobbing, broken, and banished, the boy stumbled out the door and aimed himself vaguely in the direction of the cold mountain path.

The Path was the first harrowing test of entry into the mountaintop academy. The ten-day uphill journey was to be made alone, with no aid or succor given by any outside party, lest the cadet be immediately and unequivocally expelled before he even set foot on the grounds. There was a wooden arch over the very last step, near the peak of the mountain. Under it stood the headmaster every year, to make the welcoming speech: "Congratulations. You have just climbed ten thousand steps. Now your training begins."

Going the other way was easier, but in a way, that only made it all the worse.

[Blackmage]

Interesting... I like it.

[Therin]

Edit: I'm sorry, something struck me as funny in the middle of writing this, and now it blows. I swear to God, I'm going to come back in a couple days and make it all better. I promise. I'm so sorry T_T

Five years later...


Kneel
His instructor's voice still rang in his ears, bringing with it memories of the monestary, crisp mornings, clear air, and a clean conscience. These he banished to whence they had come, leaving only the voice.

"This gun is mine, and mine alone."
Crack the barrel and check the chamber, make sure you aren't about to blow your own face off.
"I hold it not with my hand, but with my mind, and my heart."
Oil the cleaning rod and push it through the barrel, turn one quarter and retract. In, turn one quarter and retract. Repeat until your mind is clear of thought, just as the barrel will then be clear of impediments.
"I fire it with my hand, and my hand alone."
Check the hammer and the mechanism from all angles, then clean both with the miniature rod.
"If I fire this gun in anger, I am unworthy to be its master."
Pop the cylinder. One by one, starting at the apex and moving left, clean the chambers.
"If I fire this gun in shame, I am unworthy to be its master."
Remove the cylinder and carefully clean the rotation rod.
"If I fire this gun in sadness, I am unworthy to be its master."
Reassemble the gun, this gun, your gun. It shall be your companion day and night, rain and shine, until your last breath leaves your body.
"If I fire this gun in laughter, I am unworthy to be its master."
Now start checking your bullets. If it's dented, toss it. If it's wet, toss it. If it looks at you funny, toss it. These are the words with which your gun will communicate with the world around you. Make sure they are perfect, and they will be true.
"The gun and the Void are inextricably joined; the Void is the only refuge from which my aim can be true. To fire the gun outside the Void is to be unworthy."

He closed his eyes, leaned back on his heels until his face was a mask of nothing, a blank slate on which could be painted whatever was needed. Then he picked up the gun. In one fluid motion, he whirled to his feet, whipped the revolver up and pulled the trigger. There was no sound but the click of a dry hammer, but a fractured mirror hanging on the wall marked where the bullet would have flown.

And then the sun came up.

Bright rose fingers pried open the shadows to reveal the city streets, ten floors down. One by one, streetside doors began to open, and the flood of daily traffic commenced its course; thousands of people walking or driving to work. From a hundred feet up, it looked like an anthouse dreamed up by the God of A Million Little Complications, after a night of hard drinking and a few games of Whack-The-Guy-Next-To-You. The kind of place that makes perfect sense to those who inhabit it, but strikes people who see the big picture the way a spaghetti-flavored doughnut strikes a world renowned gourmet.

Edit: Now you understand. ^^;