Magemother: The Complete Series (A Fantasy Adventure Book Series for Kids of All Ages)

by Austin J. Bailey

  “Careful there,” Animus said.

  “Why? AGH!” Hugo released the flower and backed away, gagging.

  “A toxic gas is emitted by the flower if the seeds are picked prematurely,” Animus explained. “That one is not quite ripe.”

  “I can see that,” Hugo said between coughs, waving a hand around his face. “How long does it take to wear off?”

  Animus shrugged. He raised his hands and a warm breeze washed over Hugo, ruffling his hair and tossing the edges of his clothing before it subsided. He sniffed; the smell was gone.

  “Thanks.” Hugo studied the seeds in his hand. He dropped them, unwilling to risk further surprises.

  “Wise,” Animus said, turning back to the road.

  The road, which was little more than a footpath, wound through the sunflowers so that they had to part a couple of plants in order to step through.

  Hugo sniffed himself again just to make sure. Thankfully, the smell was truly gone. “No harm done,” he said.

  “Unless the Magemother’s ogre is after us,” Animus’s voice came. “They have a remarkable sense of smell.”

  Hugo did some quick calculations in his head. “He would have found us by now if he was after us. Where do you suppose it went after it attacked Brinley with that witch?”

  “Who knows?” Animus said. “But we should probably keep our guard up.”

  A few moments later, Hugo nearly ran into Animus. He and Cannon had stopped right in front of him. “Hey, why did we stop?”

  “Shh,” Animus said, then he vanished. A summer wind fluttered away from the spot through the sunflowers and Hugo and Cannon were left alone.

  “Excellent,” Hugo muttered. But Cannon waved him into silence.

  “I think he sensed something,” Cannon whispered.

  Hugo was trying to decide whether they should stay put or continue on when he heard what must have stopped Animus: a thrashing sound, like something large moving through the field. It was coming straight toward them. He and Cannon darted down the path. Whatever it was, it didn’t sound friendly. Hopefully Animus was out there, watching its progress. The fact that the mage had not returned was a good thing, he hoped. It meant that he wasn’t in any real danger just yet.

  With a final crash, something broke through the line of sunflower stalks. It was an ogre, all right, and a big one, too. Hugo had never seen one himself, but he had spent a fair amount of time reading about them. He drew his sword, wishing bitterly that he had worked harder on listening to the light. If he had figured out his powers by now this probably wouldn’t be such a stressful situation. Hugo hoped that Cannon was a match for the ogre if Animus did not reappear.

  The ogre had seen them now, and they darted off the path, zigzagging through the sunflowers.

  “Split up!” Hugo cried. “Confuse him!”

  He heard the crashing resume behind him and smelled the putrid gas again; evidently the ogre was knocking seeds out in his rampage. He heard heavy footfalls, and then something massive crashed into his right shoulder, jarring his teeth and lifting him off his feet. He landed painfully and glanced up at the ogre.

  The beast smiled. A slight breeze made his hair flutter slightly, then made him frown. The flowers around him were stirring in the wind now too. He took a step toward Hugo and the wind increased tenfold. His skin was flapping in the wind now. With a great effort, he took another step.

  The wind doubled. The stalks around him bent over, laid flat against the ground, and Animus materialized out of the wind in front of the ogre. The ogre sneered at Animus and took another step. Animus held up a hand, a vortex of wind pouring from it, enveloping the ogre. The beast dropped to all fours, sinking his claws into the earth. The muscles on his arms and legs rippled. Small cuts began to form on his face where the wind tore at his skin. He lifted one leg slowly as if to take another step, and Animus brought up his other hand. There was a sound like a thunderclap and the ogre was blasted into the air, along with several feet of dirt and rocks and sunflowers. He flew a long way before landing with a distant thump on the other side of the field, out of sight. Animus looked as calm as ever.

  “Cannon!” Animus shouted, looking around for his apprentice.

  Cannon emerged from the sunflowers. “I’m here! Oh, well done. Wow, he is a big one. Bigger up close.”

  Animus nodded. “Big, and strong too, if a little bit stupid. I am surprised that he attacked you with me nearby. Very ambitious of him, don’t you think?” He jerked his thumb in the general direction of the ogre. They could all hear him now, huffing through the sunflowers toward them. “I think it best if I take him back to Ninebridge. Captain Mark might benefit greatly from questioning him. Continue on this course until I meet up with you.”

  “How long will you be?” Hugo asked, dreading the thought of spending the rest of the day alone with Cannon.

  “Not too long,” Animus said. “Not too short, either. Stick together, you two, and don’t do anything foolish.”

  With that, Animus vanished. He must have reappeared near the ogre, because Hugo heard the crashing sounds a second later. Then a funnel cloud formed over the field in front of him. The ogre was sucked up into it, and the cloud sped off across the sky.

  Cannon and Hugo glanced at one another. “So,” Hugo said conversationally, starting back towards the path, “reckon we could have taken him ourselves?”

  Cannon snorted. “I reckon I might have, though I don’t know what you would have had to do with the process.”

  “Whatever,” Hugo said, his voice rising. “I bet you would have had your hands full by yourself. You’re not as powerful as Animus yet, no matter what you say.”

  Cannon coughed. “And I suppose you think you could have taken that ogre all alone, do you?”

  Hugo scowled. He couldn’t have. He knew that, and he knew that Cannon knew it too. Why was Cannon so grumpy all the time? It was his pride, that’s what it was. He had the biggest head of anyone Hugo had ever known.

  “Maybe I couldn’t have,” he said, “but it would have been a lot better than trying to fight him with you.”

  “Whatever,” Cannon said, echoing Hugo’s snippy tone. “I’m hungry. You?”

  “No,” Hugo said flatly. He was, but he didn’t feel like agreeing with Cannon about anything right now.

  “Fine,” Cannon said. He pointed into the distance. “I’m going to go make lunch. You can have some when you catch up. If you’re hungry by then.”

  Hugo scowled at Cannon’s back as he lifted himself into the air and sped into the distance.

  “Whatever,” Hugo grumbled, kicking a rock. He was better off on his own for a while anyway. At least this way he wouldn’t have to listen to Cannon whine about everything.

  “All alone at last,” a voice said.

  Hugo spun around, gawking at the small form that had stepped onto the path. It was a kudri, a small, slender, dwarf-like creature that served Shael. They had been used as spies and assassins in the days of the war, and were renowned for their speed and stealth.

  “I thought he’d never leave,” a woman’s voice said behind him. Hugo turned again, drawing his sword.

  “You,” he said. It was the witch, March.

  “Me,” she agreed, cocking her head to the side. “We’ve come to have a word with you, Hugo. I hope you don’t mind.”

  Hugo backed away from them, trying to put sufficient distance between them to keep an eye on both. “You brought that ogre here,” he said. “You lured Animus away.”

  “Yes,” the kudri said with a dark grin. “I’m afraid he would not have approved of our meeting with you.”

  Hugo’s face went blank. He reached out with his mind. Animus! he called.

  The kudri leapt forward and trapped Hugo’s sword between his two daggers. At the same moment, March slammed something hard onto his head.

  “None of that,” she said as the kudri twisted the daggers, ripping Hugo’s sword away. “Let’s keep this meeting private.”

  H
ugo grunted and dropped to his knees, hands going to the cap on his head. The pain was unbearable, but it let up after a moment. His fingers ran over it, trying to figure out what it was. It was made of steel, and it was small, not much bigger than his hand, but it was clamped down tightly on the crown of his head, and it seemed to be blocking the connection that he had to the other mages.

  “Don’t struggle,” the kudri advised, picking up Hugo’s sword and stepping away.

  Hugo got the tip of a finger under the edge of the cap and attempted to pry if off, but the cap only tightened in response, squeezing his head so hard he thought it was going to crack. Numbly, he dropped his hands, wincing. “Are you here to kill me?” he asked. March laughed.

  The kudri waved Hugo’s sword dismissively. “Obviously not,” he said, “or you would already be dead. I bring a message from Lord Shael.”

  Hugo grimaced. “I don’t want any messages from Lord Shael,” he said. “I thought he would have known that, but I guess he’s dimmer than I thought.”

  March slapped him across the face. “It is not wise to insult my father,” she hissed. “Especially when he has been gracious enough to spare your life.”

  The kudri nodded in agreement. “You may not be interested in him,” he said, “but he is interested in you. Believe me, it’s a predicament I understand well.”

  March scowled at the kudri and he stopped talking abruptly. “Ahem,” she coughed. “Shael has sent us to offer you some advice.”

  “Advice?” Hugo said, glancing in the direction that Cannon had gone. Why had they not stuck together? “What advice?”

  March smiled. “Talk to the darkness.”

  Hugo felt a shiver run down his spine.

  March nodded. “Yes. You can feel the power in it, can’t you? The truth of it? You are the Mage of Light and Darkness. You must give the darkness room inside yourself. You have to face it, or it will destroy you. That is the message from Shael.”

  “I won’t,” Hugo said.

  “Then it will destroy you,” March said, taking a step forward. “Shael knows this. He has known your predecessors well—better than anyone. He has watched your efforts as you have tried to learn from Animus. He says that you will make no progress that way.”

  “But I have made progress,” Hugo said.

  March swept his comment aside. “If you wish to find your true power, then you must look to the darkness as well as the light. You cannot find one without the other.”

  Hugo squinted suspiciously at her. “Why would Shael want to help me?”

  “Because you hold the balance,” March said. “The powers of darkness in this world flow though you. The dark has as much interest in your success as the light does. Our survival depends on yours. Our power flows through you.”

  Hugo shook his head. “No. Not if I don’t choose it.”

  The kudri laughed. “That is not how it works. If it were, you could kill me with a thought. Try it. You can’t. The power of light and darkness flows through you, but you do not control it, no more than Animus controls the wind.”

  “But he does control it,” Hugo insisted.

  “Control is an illusion,” March spat. “There is something else you should know: stop trying to control everything. It will get you nowhere.”

  The kudri tossed Hugo’s sword into the sunflowers and backed away into the tall stalks.

  “Shael has as much invested in your success as anyone,” March called as they retreated into the sunflowers. “His counsel is a gift to you,” she called out of them. “You would do well to heed it.”

  Hugo sighed, rubbing his head where the cap still bit into it. How was he going to get it off? He tried to distract himself from the thing that had entered his mind like an animal, crouching in the corner of his thoughts like a bitter truth: he had to speak to the darkness. He knew it was the truth. He didn’t know whether hearing it from Shael made it less true, but it made him want to hide from it.

  “Where did you go, sword?” he said out loud, hiding from the thought again.

  It took him several minutes to find it. He had mumbled to himself throughout the search, hiding from what he knew he had to do.

  Animus! he shouted with his mind, and the sound reverberated in his own head, reflected back to him by the cap. “ANIMUS!” he shouted. But there was no response. The mage would be halfway to Ninebridge by now.

  Blast. He glanced up the path, searching for some sign of Cannon, but saw nothing. No doubt he’d gone a good long way. He probably wanted Hugo to be starving by the time he got there for lunch. He was on his own for a while.

  He withdrew the little mirror from his pocket and turned it over in his hands, settling down in the middle of a wide patch of flattened stalks. Yellow heads peeked out of the verdure around him as if watching him, waiting for him to open the mirror. Maybe he should wait, he thought. Maybe he should get back on the trail and walk and wait until Animus came back. Animus would know what to do.

  He almost got up, then remembered something that made him stay put: Animus was the one who had given him the mirror. He had known already. He had known that he would have to speak with the darkness. Why else would he have given him the mirror? But then, why didn’t Animus just say that? Maybe he didn’t want to be responsible for pointing Hugo toward the darkness.

  He turned the mirror over in his hand again. He had not opened it since the previous night. He had snapped it closed then, as soon as he had opened it and seen his own face peering back at him. It wasn’t exactly his face, of course—that was the scary part. It was him, but it was dark, twisted. It was the dark side of him. He put his thumb on the latch and remembered something. Animus had suggested naming it. He said it might help.

  Hugo thought about what he should name it. It was like his shadow.

  “Shadow,” he said aloud, testing the name. He rolled his eyes. What a stupid name. That was a bad name even for a dog. He thought of doing his own name backwards.

  “Oguh.”

  Terrible. And it sounded like ogre. He shook his head. This was a part of himself he was trying to name. It should be easy. He felt his train of thought grind to a stop. He was the Mage of Light and Darkness. He scraped the sunflower stalks apart between his feet, searching for earth. When he found it, he wrote with his finger: M.O.L.A.D.

  He opened the mirror.

  The twisted shade of himself was there, waiting for him.

  “I am Hugo,” he said formally. “The Prince of Aberdeen, and the Mage of Light and Darkness. You are my darkness. You are Molad.”

  Molad mouthed the name silently, trying it out. “Good,” he said. “It’s about time you—”

  Hugo snapped the mirror shut. Molad had spoken. He had known that was going to happen, of course, but he hadn’t known that it would feel so…normal. It felt like talking to anyone. That terrified him. He steadied himself and opened the mirror again.

  “As I was saying, before you panicked, it’s about time you started talking to me.” Molad spoke in a mocking tone that seemed eerily familiar. It was his own, he realized. Was that really what he sounded like?

  Molad sat down inside the mirror and Hugo recognized the room around him. “Hey,” he said, “you’re in my room!”

  Molad rolled his eyes. “Our room,” he said. He smiled. “So, I heard what the kudri was saying. Finally talked some sense into you, eh? I hoped he would. I can help you. What do you want?”

  “Nothing,” Hugo said.

  “Liar. You want to travel like a mage. You want your power. You forget,” he said, tapping his head. “I see everything you see. Your life is my life. We’re the same. Equals.”

  “No,” Hugo said. “Remember, I named you. I’m in charge.”

  Molad chuckled. “Okay, Hugo. You’re right. You’re in charge. What do you want, then?”

  Hugo glared at the tiny dark vision of himself in the mirror. “I want to learn to move like a mage,” he said.

  Molad nodded. “You’ve been holding Animus back.” />
  “Yes.”

  “Good. It’s simple. I know how to do it.”

  “Tell me,” Hugo said.

  Molad smiled wickedly. “I can’t. Don’t get me wrong,” he went on smoothly, “I can help you. I just can’t tell you how to do it.” He winked. “I have to show you.”

  Realization dawned on Hugo. He had been wondering what the price would be. “I have to give you control.” It wasn’t a question.

  Molad chuckled again. “Control is an illusion,” he said. “But yes, that’s the price of my knowledge. That is the price of power, you see? Relinquishing control. Don’t be afraid,” he pressed as Hugo began to close the lid of the mirror again. “You’re only giving power to yourself.” He opened his arms. “After all, I’m you.”

  Hugo snapped the mirror shut again and closed his eyes. There had to be another way, he thought. Any other way. He wanted to talk to Brinley, not that it mattered; the cap wouldn’t allow it. But he wanted to hear her thoughts. He wished that he could. He thought of simply waiting. Animus, no doubt, would be able to help him get the cap off, and then he would have others willing to help him make these decisions.

  Something welled up inside him: loneliness and determination mixed together. Facing the darkness was his fate, his responsibility alone. He alone was the Mage of Light and Darkness. He alone had to face this and learn how to deal with it. In the end, nobody would be able to help him.

  He opened the mirror again and said, “What do I have to do?”

  Letting Molad take control of his body turned out to be just like falling asleep—simple and difficult at the same time. Eventually he managed it. When it happened, he felt distanced from his body, powerless. He could still feel, still see, but he sensed that he was merely along for the ride.

  Molad stretched deeply and laughed, then darted off the path and into the sunflowers. He ran for what seemed like an hour, like a dog that had been penned up for the whole summer and then finally released to stretch his legs. He stopped at the edge of a winding brook and drank deeply from it, and Hugo saw their flickering reflection in an eddy of the stream. His face looked different with Molad in control. Handsome still, but devious, haunted. He didn’t want to think about what would happen to him if he couldn’t learn how to control Molad. There had to be a better way to balance light and dark than giving his other half free rein like this.