by B. J. Beach
Mage Prime
by
B. J. Beach
Book Two of
‘The Trouble with Magic’
©2014
Having purchased this eBook from Amazon, it is for your personal use only. It may not be copied, reproduced, printed or used in any way other than in its intended Kindle format.
This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance between the characters in this work and any persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
The right of B. J. Beach to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1998.
Published by Ex-L-Ence Publishing a division of Winghigh Limited, Gloucester, England.
Contents
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTYONE
CHAPTER TWENTYTWO
CHAPTER TWENTYTHREE
CHAPTER TWENTYFOUR
CHAPTER TWENTYFIVE
CHAPTER TWENTYSIX
CHAPTER TWENTYSEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTYEIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTYNINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRTYONE
CHAPTER THIRTYTWO
CHAPTER THIRTYTHREE
CHAPTER THIRTYFOUR
CHAPTER THIRTYFIVE
CHAPTER THIRTYSIX
CHAPTER THIRTYSEVEN
CHAPTER THIRTYEIGHT
CHAPTER THIRTYNINE
CHAPTER FORTY
CHAPTER FORTYONE
CHAPTER FORTYTWO
CHAPTER FORTYTHREE
CHAPTER FORTYFOUR
CHAPTER FORTYFIVE
CHAPTER FORTYSIX
CHAPTER FORTYSEVEN
CHAPTER FORTYEIGHT
CHAPTER FORTYNINE
CHAPTER FIFTY
CHAPTER FIFTYONE
CHAPTER FIFTYTWO
CHAPTER FIFTYTHREE
CHAPTER FIFTYFOUR
CHAPTER FIFTYFIVE
CHAPTER FIFTYSIX
CHAPTER FIFTYSEVEN
CHAPTER FIFTYEIGHT
CHAPTER FIFTYNINE
And now
CHAPTER ONE
The large wicker basket swung slowly from side to side as it floated down, landing with a gentle thump on the bed of the cart. Symon, magician and personal advisor to King Vailin II, gave a little smile of satisfaction.
Patting his palms together he scurried over to the doorway of his tower. “Come along, Karryl!”
Clutching a large cloth-wrapped bundle, a tall, dark-haired young man came clattering down the wooden staircase.
He grinned down at the diminutive form of the magician. “Well, I think that’s everything. I’ve left all the inside doors open like you asked, and I’ve placed a ward on the door at the top of the stairs.”
Symon looked up at his apprentice and raised one bushy white eyebrow. “Why didn’t you put the bundle in the basket?”
Karryl’s grin widened as he nodded towards the end of the cart. “I was going to, but someone else had other ideas. The space was occupied.”
Symon peered over the tail end of the cart into the basket. Enormous amethyst eyes looked back at him from a grey furry face.
The magician chuckled. “Well, that explains everything, except perhaps why she has decided to accompany us in the first place.”
The cat gave a little ‘Miaow’, before wrapping her thick fluffy tail round her back paws and proceeding to wash her face. Symon stood for a while, seemingly in deep contemplation of the cat. Eventually he nodded and turned to watch as Karryl pitched the bundle onto the cart, settling it securely amongst the miscellany of books, small pieces of furniture and household items which were already loaded.
Turning to look up at the squat bulk of the stone-built tower, Karryl gave a little sigh. “I shall really miss this place you know. Do you think we’ll ever come back?”
Symon inclined his head, a characteristic mannerism to which Karryl had become accustomed during the years he had been apprenticed to the little magician. “You may well return here if you wish, but I doubt if I will. As you know, I have made the tower and its grounds over to you, so the choice is entirely yours. I will give you the keys later then you can come and go as you please.”
The big heavy draught horse whiffled and stamped impatiently. Leaning against one of the massive wheels of the cart, Karryl worried at a thumbnail, a thoughtful expression on his face as he watched Symon close the tower’s wooden door and slip a heavy brass lock through the hasp and staple. From the deep pocket of his russet coloured robe the magician produced a large key and secured the lock, before bending down to retrieve another, even larger, key from beneath an upturned earthen-ware flowerpot just inside the small porch. Slowly, almost regretfully it seemed, he inserted the key in the door’s own lock and turned it. The tumblers dropped home with a loud click of finality, and the two keys were placed carefully in the pocket of his robe. Looking over his shoulder, he gave Karryl a brief nod then stood back from the door, his hands held out at arm’s length, palms forward. Karryl moved away from the cart and came to stand beside him, feeling the unmistakable prickling on his skin as Symon began the spell of warding. On the last word of the spell the diminutive magician lowered his hands.
Glancing at Karryl, he moved away from the door. “You know what you have to do.”
Karryl waited until his master and mentor was standing behind him then looked purposefully at the door. He said no words and made no gestures. He had discovered in the early days of his apprenticeship that he could control his spells by thought and will, much to Symon’s consternation as well as that of a few other magicians with whom he had been given the opportunity to work. Now he concentrated on the door, overlaying his own warding on the one Symon had set in place. Satisfied that all was secure and as it should be, he turned about and climbed up on the seat of the cart beside Symon. The magician settled the reins in his small slender hands, ready for the off. With a cluck of his tongue, Symon had the cart moving. The great horse leaned its powerful shoulders into the harness, broad feathered hooves and iron shod wheels crackling and crunching into the gravel. Making the wide turn around the tall and ancient oak tree in front of the tower, they headed for the long lane which would take them up to the palace. Karryl afforded tower and tree one more lingering look, then said a silent goodbye to the place which had been his home for the last four and a half years.
Now, after three weeks of sorting, packing, and occasional trips to their new quarters in the palace, the last of their belongings rode behind them as they rattled and jingled along the hard-packed stone and dirt lane. Skilfully negotiating the right hand bend at the top of the rise, Symon gave all his attention to the handling of the horse. Sitting straight up in his seat, Karryl craned his neck to look over to his left, trying to see across the steep over-grown bank to the stream which bubbled and chattered far below it. Known locally as the Wyreditch, it would continue to flow, not only down to the sea, but also through Karryl’s memory as the place where events had been put in motion which resulted in his being discovered as the second Mage-Prime of legend.
“We never did investigate the cottage, did we?”
The magician gave a
little shrug. “No. We didn’t, but it was investigated nevertheless.”
Karryl’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh. Who by? You never told me! Did whoever it was see the cottage?”
Symon looked at him askance. “There was no cottage; just a small clearing with a few ancient moss-covered stones scattered around, that might have been a building at some time. Even the clearing was hard to see, as the trees and shrubs had grown right up to it.”
Karryl threw his hands up into the air, nearly falling off the cart with the force of his frustration. “But I was in the cottage! I opened the door! There was old furniture, and most of the roof, and the chest that the book was in. It can’t all have disappeared just like that. It takes more than a few years for a building to crumble away.”
His chin in his hands, he stared down at the horse’s broad rump, not really seeing it. They drove on in silence for a few minutes. The cart rode onto level ground and Symon brought it to a halt, hauling mightily on the long wooden brake lever with both hands.
Karryl leaned back and looked about him and then at Symon. “Why have we stopped?”
After wrapping the double rein loosely round the cart’s front rail, Symon turned sideways and regarded his protégé from beneath lowered eyebrows. “Have you given the matter any further thought since your accident?”
Karryl shook his head. “Not really. I finally accepted that I was meant to find the book when and where I found it, and that knock on the head when I fell off the stepping stone somehow started me on the road to being this Mage-Prime. It all seems like a fragment of a half-forgotten dream now. Anyway, why d’you ask?”
The little magician’s grey eyes twinkled. “I just wondered whether it had occurred to you that the cottage may have been re-fabricated solely for the purpose of your finding the book?”
Karryl stared at him, a frown appearing on his broad forehead. “It can’t have been. It was already there when I got to the stream. That’s why I crossed in the first place. I wanted to see what it was.”
Symon gave him his best long-suffering look. “Yes; but how long had it been there before you arrived? Don’t you think it’s more likely that someone saw you coming, and made sure that everything went exactly the way it should?”
Karryl gave a wry smile. “I’m still trying to get to grips with that part of it, even after all this time. Everything was so solid and so real. The latch was stuck, the place smelled old and musty; there were even rat-droppings on the table, for goodness sake!”
“And what would you have done if the place was clean and in good repair?”
His apprentice grinned and ran a hand through his thick black hair. “Legged it, I suppose.”
“Exactly. Defeating the whole object of the exercise. Believe me, this has been fully orchestrated and everything that’s happened was meant to happen.”
Still grinning, Karryl rubbed his hands together. “It’s a good job I didn’t play a duff note then, isn’t it?”
Taking up the reins in readiness to move on, Symon inclined his head in the manner that was so characteristic of him. “I don’t think you could have done if you’d wanted to.”
Symon released the brake, and with a cluck of his tongue and a slap of the reins, the two magicians, accompanied by a fluffy grey cat, set off once more.
CHAPTER TWO
The fact that Karryl had never actually visited the part of the palace in which they were to be accommodated did little to help the process of moving in. Due to his irrepressible urge to explore, Karryl was never where Symon wanted him, when he wanted him. Symon finally resorted to a little judicious cheating to hurry the process along. Fortunately, there were no palace staff currently employed in this particular wing, so Symon had no compunctions about levitating his entire collection of books and scrolls about twelve inches above the polished stone floor, and directing them in stately procession from cart to apartment doors.
Having frequently walked the route from entrance to apartment, every corridor and pillar was clear in his mind, making the whole procedure delightfully simple. After guiding the first volume into the large room, which was to be a shared study, a brief command ensured that the others would follow suit until he cancelled the spell. A smile of contentment on his round face, he stood and watched the last scroll drift away in a gentle curve round a large pillar.
It did little for his composure however, when the pillar gave a deep chuckle. “It’s amazing what some people will do for an easy life.”
Trying hard not to smile at his own gullibility, Symon feigned an indignant air as Karryl stepped out from behind the wide square pillar. “Well, it seems the hired help had other things to occupy him. Now, if you’ve satisfied your curiosity, perhaps you could spare a little of your time to give an old man a helping hand?”
Karryl sauntered over and leaned against the side of the cart, a gleeful sparkle in his dark eyes. “Erm…I hate to tell you this but I think you missed out a teensy part of the spell.”
Symon gave him a flat stare. “Really?”
Trying hard not to laugh, Karryl started walking towards the imposing pillared entrance of their new home, beckoning for Symon to follow. Hurrying along the light airy cloister which ran parallel to the front of the building, they turned left and down a short corridor. At the end, a door painted a rich deep red stood wedged open. Stopping just inside the doorway, Karryl thrust his hands into his pockets and looked up towards the ceiling, a wide grin on his face.
The grin became even wider as he heard Symon, who had been a few paces behind him, stop and give a little gasp. “Oh dear! Oh dear! Oh de..he..hee..hee..heeee!”
Karryl turned round and promptly collapsed in gales of laughter. The sight of the little magician rocking to and fro, his arms wrapped around himself and tears trickling down his round, flushed cheeks, was too much. Unable to hold themselves upright any longer, magician and apprentice flopped helplessly into nearby chairs, giggling hysterically while the sound of their uncontrolled mirth echoed along the corridors. Symon drummed his heels on the carpeted floor as Karryl squirmed and gasped for breath.
It was this moment that the imperturbable Jobling, royal butler and major-domo, chose to enter the room. He stood quietly, his expression slightly pained, until Karryl noticed him through the blur of tear-filled eyes. Reaching over the arm of his chair, he gave Symon a poke on his elbow then struggled to his feet. Rubbing the back of his hand across his eyes he took a deep breath to steady himself… and began to hiccup. That, combined with the look on Jobling’s face, was the last straw. Abandoning himself to the absurdity of the situation, Karryl let out a loud guffaw and fell backwards into the chair he had just vacated. Having regained a modicum of control, Symon pushed himself out of his chair and gave the tall major-domo a rather sheepish look.
Jobling remained apparently unmoved. “I merely came to ascertain whether you required any assistance my Lord, but it would seem you have things… er…under control.”
Hands clasped behind his back he let his gaze drift slowly upwards to the ceiling, then just as slowly back down again.
Symon moved to stand beside him and followed his gaze. “Well yes, more or less. Just a few minor adjustments you know.”
Red-eyed, his face still contorted with mirth, Karryl scrambled to his feet and came to stand beside them. All three stood in silent contemplation of the scene which met their eyes. Or rather, two of them did. Karryl still had hiccups. A single, tightly packed column of books and scrolls reached from floor to impressively high ceiling. However, as it still wasn’t high enough to accommodate the entire library of works in the space between the ceiling and the floor, the spell had compromised in a most peculiar fashion. Rather than make a new stack beside the first, it held completion in stasis. A circle of books and scrolls about five wide and as many deep, spun slowly in an anticlockwise direction around the upper regions of the stack. Every so often and seemingly at random, one of them would nudge forward and bounce against the stack as if trying to push its way in.<
br />
Karryl broke the somewhat awed silence. “That’s tricky. If you close the spell, the whole lot will come crashing down.”
Jobling cleared his throat. “If you do not require my assistance, my Lord, I will take my leave.”
Still looking upwards at the circling volumes, Symon raised his hand, his mind obviously on other things. “Yes … er… no. Thank you, Jobling. We appreciate you calling. We’ll ring the bell if we need you.”
As Jobling quietly exited the room, Symon laid a touching spell on Karryl and cured his hiccups. Then magician and apprentice began to discuss tactics. The best part of an hour was spent discussing the efficacy of various spells, all of which they eventually rejected as basically inefficient.
Symon gave a snort of disgust. “You’d have thought a Royal Magician and a potential Mage-Prime could come up with something.”
Karryl gave a slow, thoughtful nod. “I think I may have done, but I’d like to do it alone, if you don’t mind.”
Symon raised an eyebrow. “In that case I’ll send in the remaining boxes. Then I think I’ll take a leisurely drive back to the stables with the horse and cart. It’s too nice an afternoon to be indoors anyway.”
He scuttled out of the room, leaving Karryl to study the aerial gyrations taking place just below the ceiling, as he waited for the remainder of the cart’s load to come drifting in and settle on the floor. As soon as he was sure Symon was out of sight, he crossed the room and stood in front of an enormous glass-fronted book-case which stood in impressive polished splendour against the left-hand wall. Easily half again his own height, it measured the length of the wall from the large bay window to the door which led to their sleeping quarters. After a few moments thought he reached out and turned the ornate brass knobs until each of the eight doors was standing wide open. The end ones he pushed back as far as they would go, and then ensured that the remainder were back to back on each other. He turned and contemplated the pile of books. Normally he would not have bothered with any kind of gesture, but in this case he felt that with so many inanimate objects to deal with, a few guiding gestures would be in order.
First he halted the movement of the books and scrolls circling the stack, wondering to himself why they hadn’t done that before. He then singled out a medium sized volume which hovered an inch or two nearer the outer edge than the others. Deliberately he drew it down to him until it was safely in his hands. With exaggerated movements he carried it to the empty bookcase and placed it firmly upright against the end of the bottom shelf. Turning once more to the book-pile, he looked up and overlaid the levitation spell with one of slow movement, before gesturing first to the books and then to the bookcase. After a quick mental check to ensure he hadn’t missed anything, he carefully released the spell and stood back to watch.
