Aknuman looked at the twin doors, and swallowed. They were about twelve feet high and ten feet wide together, and made of some heavy reddish wood. The edges of the doors were bordered with gold, and the gold was etched with hieroglyphs which praised Thoth, the god of knowledge, and told the history of Aknuman's guild, the Order of the Stars. Aknuman stared at the intricate glyphs of warding etched into the doors, in which molten silver had been meticulously poured. The deadbolt looked to be gold, but the young man figured it was gold-plated; the precious metal was a notoriously weak substance to be fashioning locks out of. The cavern he was in was cool and shaded, though the sunlight pouring through the mouth of the cave gave ample light to see by.
Hekhnim, Aknuman's master and Initiate of the Order's Seventh Circle, stood beside the doors. His blue-black robe sported inlaid silver stars that twinkled when they reflected light, like a swath cut from the night sky. Hekhnim's face was thin and dignified with age, and his light brown skin was lightly etched by time. He sported a copper beard cover. Hekhnim wasn't wearing his ornate, noble headdress, instead revealing his head, bald save for a long braid of black hair shot through with storm cloud gray.
Aknuman self-consciously reached under his head wrap and felt his thick black hair. When he proved himself a man, his head would too be shaved. He adjusted his simple yellow-orange robe, which marked him as an initiate of the First Circle, and looked at Hekhnim. "Master, what do you wish me to do?"
Hekhnim drummed his fingers on the deep blue leather cover of a large spell book; his pouches and carrying bag were fashioned out of the same hide. The leather had been reportedly taken from an Apophis-spawn that Hekhnim had defeated by himself. He said in his deep, practiced voice, "First tell me what magics I've woven into the doors."
Aknuman looked at the doors and concentrated, whispering a brief incantation. His eyes glazed over, and a few drops of sweat beaded his brow. After about a minute, the doors' forms began to blur and become mere outlines as his senses shifted to the astral plane. Aknuman saw a translucent, bluish-silver energy field shimmering and shifting around the doors, concentrating around the dead bolt. The young mage shifted his vision back to the material realm, and looked at his master. "It is..." Aknuman shuffled his feet, trying to remember the correct name for the spell. "...an intermediate enchantment of magic resistance?" he asked, looking at Hekhnim with his large brown eyes.
Hekhnim nodded his head once, in confirmation. "Are there any other magics that I've woven into the doors?"
Aknuman once again focused his magical senses on the door and chanted, standing still and unblinking for nearly two minutes. He looked at his master and shook his head no.
"Good, my young apprentice. Your task is now to open the doors."
Aknuman felt his heart sink. How could his master ask him to perform such a feat? He could barely master rudimentary magics, much less cancel an archmage's spell! This would be his test, to see if he was wizard material or not. Aknuman concentrated and focused his sekhem, hoping he had not wasted too much on the divination spells.
He walked to within ten feet of the doors and closed his eyes, searching his mind for the right spell. He started chanting the necessary words, summoning and shaping the sekhem, while reaching for the mummified raven's claw in his right pouch. He held it with his fingers, and made grabbing motions with it while activating the spell. The spell's power accumulated as a ball inside his skull, building in the area behind his eyes. He opened his magic-sensitive eyes and saw not the physical realm, but the door as it appeared in the astral plane.
He reached out with his psychic energy, the ball becoming a silver-reddish hand connected to his forehead by a thin chord, and with this mental hand Aknuman reached for the deadbolt. The hand swiped at the bolt but slid off the energy field that surrounded it. He tried finding weak areas in the force field to slip through, but the protean field always shifted to block his hand.
Aknuman realized he wasn't going to slip past it, and decided to force his way through it. He called on his depleting sekhem reserves, transformed his mental hand into a claw, and struck at the magic resistance field. First his claw bounced off ineffectually, but finally he managed to penetrate its surface. He continued to batter at the weakened area, ripping his way through the field. The last of his sekhem spent, Aknuman continued his assault, calling upon his very life energy to power his magic. His head began throbbing in pain, and his limbs weakened. His nose spontaneously bled. Still, he pressed on, determined to prove that he was a true mage to his master.
Finally, Aknuman tore a hole in the enchantment, and wrapped his psychic claw around the dead bolt. He focused his power, trying to slide it over, but couldn't summon the mental strength to move it more than a thumb's width. Suddenly Aknuman's head felt like it had split open, and blackness filled his vision. The door faded along with the rest of the world, and consciousness left him.

***

Aknuman woke to pain, dampness and the smell of pungent herbs. He slowly sat up and opened his eyes. He brought his hand up to his nose; it still bled. Aknuman's body hurt all over, especially his head. He saw Hekhnim squatting over him, squeezing out a wet rag over his face and holding the herbs to his face. The master smiled and said, "They taste terrible, but chew on these. They'll alleviate the pain. Now watch as I instruct you in the proper wizardly method of opening doors."
Aknuman did as he was bade, and grimaced as the bitter leaves made his mouth pucker. He looked at Hekhnim walk over to the doors; his vision was blurred, and he currently saw two masters and three sets of doors. His vision cleared a bit, and he saw only one of everything again. His head was pounding, and he wanted to pass out again.
Hekhnim said, "Are you watching, young mage?" Aknuman nodded. Hekhnim simply reached over, slid the dead bolt over, and pushed the doors. They swung wide, revealing a candle lit room. Aknuman's jaw dropped.
Hekhnim cleared his throat and asked, "First, Aknuman, think. Did you see any enchantments on the door that would have prevented you from gaining entry, such as a lock spell?"
The apprentice said, "No, master."
"And did you detect any trap spells that would have hurt you had you opened the door?"
The apprentice said nothing, the question a rhetorical one.
Hekhnim's demeanor became more serious, and he said, "The most valuable thing for a mage -- and for a soldier or a pharaoh, for that matter -- is this," he said, tapping his temple with his index finger. "Wisdom is anyone's most valuable tool, his greatest companion. Without the understanding of how to use his magic, or when not to use it, all the world's spells do a wizard little good. Always try the direct and simple method first. Your lesson for today is concluded, young Aknuman."
Aknuman nodded, slurred something, and then fell forwards. The last thought he had before he went to sleep was that he wasn't going to be getting his head shaved today.