Mageborn

by Michael DeAngelo

  Chapter Four: Arcane Intuition

  Folly’s Glen was far behind the aspiring mage, yet Forsynthia remained out of sight. Adelia’s eyes wandered to and fro often, but her gaze always inexplicably ended skyward.

  Merlin had followed the young woman immediately as she left the enchanted forest. They walked side by side, though every few moments the cat would outpace her and look behind with concern. If she noticed the feline’s curiosity, she didn’t allow it to show. Since the encounter with the dragon, she had barely spoken, and her mind couldn’t focus very long.

  The map Gaston had bestowed upon her remained rolled up in her satchel. Whenever her steps took her in the wrong direction, Merlin was there, helping her to subconsciously shift toward Forsynthia.

  Following an ascent over a steep hill, the city was finally in sight.

  Much time had passed, and the morning glow from when she had was replaced by a fading dusk. The sun, just barely peeking over the horizon behind her, cast long shadows from every tall tree and building – even the shorter topiary creatures. Those shadows couldn’t hide the sage who patiently waited just at the bottom of the hill, however.

  “How did you know I would be here now?” Adelia asked.

  A series of chuckles led the girl closer to her tutor. He reached out and lightly grasped her shoulder as he turned to walk beside her. “My dear, you have much to learn of a wizard’s intuition.”

  She nodded. “It would have made things less surprising in Folly’s Glen.”

  “Ah, so you found the place,” he said.

  “And left it no worse for wear.” Adelia absentmindedly patted her satchel. “Are you aware of the dragon that haunts that forest?”

  “No, not one in particular,” Gaston offered.

  His student quietly reflected on that comment before turning, concern showing in her eyes. “In particular?” she repeated.

  The sage shrugged. “That area and the mountains beside it have long been the destination of many pilgrimages. Wizards aplenty venture to Folly’s Glen, and countless dragons take to the skies above it.”

  “And this knowledge couldn’t have been passed along a little earlier?”

  Gaston couldn’t hide a mischievous smile. “It seems I’m sometimes caught off-guard by how inexperienced you are with all of this. I don’t see you as a student of magic, but the product of it. I see what you ought to become, once your training is competed.”

  “Thank you for the kind words, Master Camlann.”

  “Just Gaston will –”

  “If I may beg your pardon,” Adelia forcibly interrupted. “All the kind words in the world won’t save me from a dragon the next time Merlin isn’t nearby.”

  The sage nodded then. “You’re right, of course. And I… What’s that about Merlin?”

  “When the dragon landed before me, Merlin sat down in front of me and stared daggers right at that black-scaled monster. He must have sensed the dragon roots of your little cat because, not long after that, he took to the air and left us alone.”

  With widened eyes, the wizard shook his head. “My dear, it seems I may have misled you. When I was telling you the story of the cat’s origins, I was simply spinning a yarn. I was just having fun with you.”

  Adelia flashed a confident grin. “Perhaps there’s more truth in your tale than you realized.” Her demeanor swiftly changed. “I came this close to being eaten today. If Merlin wasn’t there, you and I wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

  Gaston nodded. “You’re right, of course. Most dragons don’t particularly care for the mundane events of our lives. They would have just as soon ignored you than anything. But a black dragon… They’re not exactly known for their compassion. I should have trained you better before sending you out there.”

  “Well, I’m still here. For whatever reason, the dragon left us alone. He took off as though he was scared. Whether he should have been, only Merlin knows.”

  Gaston smiled, conceding to the thought. “Other than that encounter, how was your adventure to Folly’s Glen? Were you more successful in finding herbs than you were in using them?”

  Narrowing her eyes, Adelia passed the satchel to her mentor. Once it was in his hands, though, she couldn’t suppress a grin of her own. “If the dragon hadn’t shown up, I would have needed a second pack.”

  “This is excellent, my dear,” the sage offered.

  “Yes, I’d like to think so,” she replied. “Although it does seem a shame that my calling in life falls to picking weeds.”

  “Don’t fret, child,” Gaston said. “You may find that it’s quite a relaxing hobby.” He chortled a bit but continued. “Next time I’ll try to provide you with a container that is a little less finite.”

  “I’ve never agreed to camp in Folly’s Glen,” she slyly remarked.

  The sage stood straighter then. “My dear, I can sense the confidence building in you. Just yesterday you were a meek little thing. I honestly couldn’t tell what you would amount to, though I had hoped for the best.

  “Today, though,” he went on, “today, I can sense a strength in you that even you thought was lost. And that intuition we’ve talked about… With a wit like yours, I don’t doubt that we can get you on the right track in a matter of weeks.”

  “I hope I do not disappoint,” she said.

  “Worry not,” he replied. “I won’t let you.” Smiling, he gently placed a hand on her back and guided her in the direction of the keep. “When you spent your time in Viscosa, I imagine you saw some of the so-called street rats – those men or women who preyed on people with tall tales and games of chance.”

  “If I hadn’t found help when I did, I may have ended up one of those street rats,” Adelia exclaimed.

  “I have my doubts about that. Even so, I’m sure you’re at least a little familiar with the shell game.”

  “Three shells on a table and a gem under a single one of them.”

  “They’re saying they’ll give you a gem now?” Gaston loudly cried before shaking his head. “I assure you, that jewel is a fake. Not that many people would ever win that prize. You see, those tricksters practice their own forms of magic. The power of suggestion is quite strong, and they wield it deftly. All it takes is one seemingly errant touch, one lingering finger.”

  Gaston stopped then. “If we may, I’d like to perform an experiment. We’ll play a shell game of our own, with a prize more valuable than some costume jewelry.”

  “I’ve never been very good at these,” Adelia insisted.

  “Fear not,” the sage said. “You’re not paying for this game.”

  He stepped back then, lowering his arms and holding them out wide. His robe lightly swayed as he summoned his magic. His fingers glowed yellow, and his student was focused on that appearance. All at once, he clapped his hands together and opened them a moment later, leaving three brown, walnut-sized shells hovering in the air. All three opened, displaying a small golden orb within the center shell.

  “This is magical power,” Gaston said, reaching out with one hand. The shining sphere slid toward his opened palm, revolving just above his skin. “If you can find it, it’s yours.”

  The pupil nodded at the thought of that promise but was too focused on the sphere to speak. Slowly, the golden ball slid back into place within the central shell. Gaston closed his outstretched hand into a fist, and all three shells shut.

  “Just as in the streets of Viscosa, I now ask you to keep your eyes on the shell with the prize inside. Don’t blink; else you might lose sight of what is at stake here.”

  The sage began rolling his hands about in the air, and the levitated shells adhered to his movements, hopping over each other or twisting beneath. Sometimes they pitched back or forward, nearly striking the pupil. All the while, though, she kept her focus. A determined gaze was etched upon her face.

  Finally, the pace of the shells’ movements slowed until they came to a sto
p in almost the identical spots they started in.

  “Now then, if you think you know where that magic power is, simply touch your hand to it,” Gaston said.

  Adelia hesitated for a moment but stepped forward. She reached out, lightly touching the center shell.

  “Are you confident that is where the power lies?”

  His pupil nodded. “I saw the glow within that shell when it started. I didn’t blink long enough to lose it.”

  Flashing a mischievous smirk, Gaston opened his hand. The central shell separated, yet there was nothing inside. Adelia stepped back, nearly stunned. She bowed her head in defeat. The sage clicked his tongue, gaining her attention once more. The other shells opened as well, revealing nothing within either of them.

  “I was never meant to win the magic power, was I?” she asked. Her voice was more powerful than Gaston had heard from her.

  He simply smiled brighter. “I can’t give you that power,” he said, stepping forward. “Because it is already within you.” He reached out, stopping just before her collarbone. Before her eyes, the glowing golden orb emerged from her chest.

  Despite the kind gesture, Adelia crossed her arms over her chest.

  One of the loudest laughs she had heard erupted from her tutor then. It was able to disarm her as well, for several moments later even she could not suppress a smile.

  “You are going to be a powerful sorceress one day,” Gaston promised. “It may be a slow road, but no wizard truly understood the arcane arts overnight. That road may have twists and turns and obstacles, but as long as you keep the pace, you’ll surprise yourself, I assure you.”

  He guided her toward the keep once more. They passed the wildflowers and the topiary guardians, until they were close to the drawn portcullis. The sage continued forward, but his apprentice stopped and hesitated. Gaston turned to look at her.

  “What if something happens like today?” Adelia asked. “What if a dragon decides that I’m not a mage, but a meal? I may not ever have the opportunity to learn the arcane arts.”

  The sage stood straighter upon hearing that confession. He slowly returned to her, subtly nodding. “Perhaps I’ve been too focused on the broader spectrum of magic to truly convey to you how everything works.” He shrugged, looking to his side. “This may seem a little strange, but let me try to explain how magic works on Tellest.

  “When you look around, you see the keep. You can touch the stonework, you can feel every groove. You know without compromise that it exists and that it is here. If you wanted, you could go out into Forsynthia, you can smell the flowers, you can taste the aromas of the cooking meats over at the tavern. We believe in these things because we so often experience them.

  “A normal person will not sense magic because they’ve never experienced it. Many people harness the power simply on faith alone, because its presence simply cannot be found.”

  Gaston spread his arms wide. “The realm we are in is the physical realm. We understand things because we can vividly sense them. Magic, on the other hand, exists in a different realm, within a separate plane of existence. It remains close enough to our world that those of us with faith in it can bend and shape it. We can pull it into Tellest, through the aether and give it form. When our use of it expires, it bleeds back into its original realm where it is restored.

  “You see, my dear, magic is not some finite thing we must preserve lest we lose it. The only limitations we have are ourselves. Magic spins around this planet like the clouds, opening in greater pockets without our making. Some of it lingers in places like Folly’s Glen.”

  “But how do I use it?” Adelia asked. “How do I make it some conscious thing? So far I’ve only been able to reach into that place when I’ve been scared to death. Why is it only then that magic serves me?”

  “Perhaps in those moments of desperation, your eyes see with more clarity,” Gaston reasoned. “If you were able to somehow peer into that place with more conviction, maybe you could readily shape the magic to your liking.

  “You see, different practitioners of magic sense the other realm in different ways. Some hear the words of some long lost secret and call them out to make them whole once again. Some chant to give themselves a stronger sense of concentration. I’ve personally found that shaping the invisible force aids me in my casting.

  “There are others who use baubles and trinkets. Staves, wands, and scepters become an almost divining extension of their bodies. It is as if they are attuning a part of themselves, housing it in that device.”

  Adelia nodded, struggling to take it all in. “Maybe a wand would serve me best.”

  “I’ve always thought it was best to focus on what’s been proven,” the sage offered. “We know you were able to summon your spells without a wand before. I saw it with my own eyes. And even then, you weren’t exactly in death’s grip.”

  “When I nearly eradicated your cat?” the student miserably said.

  “Exactly,” he contentedly replied. “You’re showing signs of progress, as slight as they may be.” The sage paused and looked around. He nodded then and urged the girl to turn to her left. “Why don’t we give it a try now?”

  They watched as a young archer slung a bow over his shoulder, approaching a training dummy he had already turned into a pincushion. Less than a dozen feet from there, a second dummy was positioned, seemingly free from the dangers within Hawthorne Keep.

  “Go ahead,” Gaston said. “Do your worst to it.”

  He stepped forward, turning to see his pupil. She stared at him pitifully, but he only grinned and crossed his arms over his chest, the sleeves of his robe draping over. A quiet sigh managed to shake Adelia’s small frame. She cast her gaze forward, landing it upon the formless face of the training dummy.

  As his student began to focus, the sage concentrated his sight on her eyes. He could see as her pupils constricted, and a slight grin lifted his lips upward.

  Adelia thrust her arm out, her face becoming stern. She stood there for some while yet couldn’t produce even a smoky fizzle as a sign of failure.

  “Keep pointing at him,” the archer cockily said. “I’m sure he’ll fall down eventually.” He turned back to his target and let his final arrow fly. It hadn’t flown ten feet from the bow before a strong gust of otherworldly wind sent it up and over the keep’s wall.

  The archer passed a sneer at Gaston, but the sage innocently looked skyward in the opposite direction. Stifling a growl, the other man in the keep’s courtyard stomped to his remaining arrows, ripping them from the dummy. He wasted no time slipping into the halls of Hawthorne Keep, leaving the sage and his student behind.

  “That’s better. One less distraction,” Gaston said. He could sense his pupil’s embarrassment but merely shrugged. “The boy is an excellent marksman, but he lacks any kind of manners. You’d never guess he was Lydick’s son.” He shook his head, discarding the notion. “Let’s try again, shall we?”

  Adelia breathed deeply, her attention fixed once again on the training dummy. Gaston watched as her focus flushed her cheeks red, her eyes narrowed, and her jaw locked. He could see as her arm trembled as well.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, lowering her extended limb and bowing in frustration.

  “You’ve been through much today,” Gaston offered. “Perhaps I’ve asked too much of you. While many of your tasks today have been absent of physical toils, none would dare say that you haven’t been mentally taxed. Why don’t I prepare you a cup of lavender tea to help you drift toward a pleasant sleep?”

  Sighing heavily, Adelia nodded. The sage once again placed his hand upon her lower back, guiding her toward the stairs that led to the second floor.

  “You shouldn’t expect too much of yourself at first,” Gaston said. “We already know you have a link to the magical plane. There’s no need to rush it. Now, why don’t we drop off those reagents in my room and I’ll see about making that tea?”
r />   “Yes, Master Camlann,” she agreed.

  “Just Gaston will do,” he replied, smiling.

  When the sage gently thrust open the door, both were surprised to see Edric and another man directly in front of them. The man who was unknown to them both held a dagger to Edric’s throat.

  The sage extended his arm then.

  His student raised her arm quicker.

  A blast of energy shot forth from Adelia’s open palm like a bolt of lightning. It struck the would-be assassin in his shoulder, flinging him backward. His arms straightened and stiffened from the shock, allowing Edric to sink from his grasp. As the hostage cleared, Adelia extended her other arm as well. Another flash of light blinded everyone in the room momentarily. Just as their vision returned, they could see the assassin tipping backward through the window. He pronounced his own surprise with a horrified yell.

  Edric ran to the window, while Gaston simply took a few steps forward. He looked into his student’s eyes. Darkened clouds seemed to crawl over her irises and pupils before they ultimately faded, revealing her blue eyes once more.

  Gaston couldn’t hide his smile.