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The Power Of A Name

March 19, 2014

Alyxzandyr Stachiewicz stretched his legs under his desk. He sat against the wall in the second to last row beside one of the large arch topped windows. He fidgeted, a slender, pretty, pale skinned boy, with fair hair, and intelligent blue eyes. His angelic face was belied by the mischievous smile that frequently flashed across his face.

Professor Waltun Makacynus droned on at the chalkboard, his voice a high-pitched shrill like the annoying buzzing of a no-see-um. He was a gangly scarecrow of a man, his robe bagging and sagging loosely around his scrawny frame. Only a few scattered wisps of gray hair covered the dome of his skull which shone pinkly under the magelight balls. Blue veins traced lacy dark lines underneath his thin skin. His long beard waggled as he spoke, brushing his chest like a large dogs tail. “And the name of the Fifty-Sixth Wizard of the Kingdom of Galauldan was Mardovudd of Swynmarsh, he was responsible for the creation of…”

Alyxzandyr tuned him out, the History of Magic class was so boring and dull! Frustrated he wondered when were they going to be taught something interesting like battle spells or changing potions? He stared wistfully out the window at the school grounds. The sky was a clear blue and the snow had finally melted. Spring was freshening the green moss and lichens covering the stones. He wished that class was over and he was free. The zolphruxt fish would be biting in the creek. He licked his lips. He could almost taste their fried sweetness. He had a spool of twine and a hook in his right pants pocket. The Head Cook, Mistress Feathergurst made a fine lemon, herb, and butter sauce. He was sure she would make him some if he shared the fish. The osteryabells should be blooming, he’d gather her a handful. Flowers always melted a woman’s heart whether they were from a ten-year old like him or a grown man.

“And just who was responsible for the Spell of Unmaking Matter, Master Stachiewicz?” Professor Makacynus thundered suddenly, slamming his fist on the podium.

Alyxzandyr jumped slightly in his seat. He racked his brain and swiftly answered. “That would be Gworeniel Menzelfricke the One-Hundred-Forty-Ninth Wizard of Eastmerrow from the Kingdom of Ciralth, sir.”

“And what is the cardinal precept of that spell?” He glared sharply.

“The Mage must know and speak the true name of the object to be Unmade or the spell will backfire and the Mage himself risks being Unmade sir.”

“And what is the true name of this piece of grey granite?” He held a small chunk of stone up in his left hand.


“Please use the Spell of Unmaking on it.”

“From here Professor Makacynus?” Alyxzandyr asked, startled.

“What is the second precept of the spell Master Stachiewicz?”

“What a Mage can See, he can Influence sir.”

“Exactly! You may begin.” Alyxzandyr concentrated fiercely. The stone shivered, crumbling to sand. Unnoticed by anyone, the large granite boulder outside that the Professor had chipped the stone from also quivered and vanished.

“Very good Master Stachiewicz.” Alyxzandyr relaxed as Professor Makacynus dusted his hand off on his robe and turned his attention elsewhere. He sighed mentally and braced himself to pay attention to the rest of the lecture.


In response to Weekly Writing Challenge: Power Of Names
For our fiction writers, show us the power of names, is it the name of an object, person, or place? What power does the name provide?


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