‘Eric,’ Master Dividian called out quite loudly, ‘Ebanda totum ara.’
Eric raised an eyebrow and did as he was told, bending down and touching his toes.
‘Very good,’ Dividian continued. ‘Your knowledge of the Old Tongue seems reasonable. Now please demonstrate what you have learned in your time here. I trust you have prepared a suitable spell.’
Eric reached into a pocket and produced a small, sealed pouch. Without a pause, he loosened the drawstring and flicked the contents up into the air. A stream of glittering dust sprayed out, filling the air but, as quick as a flash, Eric had formed a power matrix with one hand and his spell was set. The glittering powder was caught in the spell and instead of spilling down onto the floor, flew up higher towards the beamed ceiling, carried by magic. Eric stood erect, with one hand resting behind his back, and the other held before him, directing his spell with slight movements of his raised finger. The glitter began to gather into long ribbons and began rippling around the ceiling, coiling and darting almost as if it were some golden serpent brought to life. The congregation applauded, clapping their hands together and nodding to each other with approval. Samuel was also greatly impressed. To direct each individual speck of glitter was, of course impossible, but Eric’s spell was ingenious and quite a masterwork of efficiency. Only the head of the spell need be directed and each speck of glitter followed in turn. Samuel applauded as loud as he could, for his friend’s spell was remarkable.
The golden serpent flew sinuously around the ceiling, darting from wall to wall, spinning in circular formations and streaking down around the congregation. Finally, Eric held his small sack aloft and the glittering stream snaked down towards it and darted in as quickly as lightning, disappearing right into the tiny pouch. To finish, Eric made a small bow and the crowd applauded once more. A great grin was set on his face and it was obvious that he, too, was pleased with his own display.
‘Nice work, young man,’ Dividian called out as Eric returned to his seat. ‘I hope the rest of your peers can be as creative.’
Samuel and Goodfellow both patted Eric heartily on the back as he sat down and the next apprentice was called: a boy from Dormitory Two. The other boys were each called one by one, each answering a simple question in the Old Tongue and demonstrating some spell of their own design. Most spells were not nearly as impressive as Eric’s, especially as Samuel had seen most of them practising beforehand, and they had only few surprises. One student made a strong wind so everyone had to hold onto their robes, another cooled the air so everyone was shivering. Chadly Doon made a variety of sounds come from places other than they really did, which was quite novel, but not much more than an extension of a spell they had learned in class. One boy, Mason, attempted to fill the room with the scent of roses, but instead summoned the foul stench of rotting eggs. It caused quite an upset as everyone had to file outside while the Masters cleaned out the air with some spells of their own.
‘Well,’ Dividian announced as they recommenced the proceedings, ‘I’m sure the Order can find some use for that kind of smell—I mean, spell—somewhere.’
At that, everyone broke into laughter, except for poor Mason, who looked even more embarrassed.
So far, Samuel felt somewhat disappointed with the efforts of his peers. Aside from Eric, their spells had been nothing much more complicated than what they had already learned in class. Earlier on, Samuel had felt a little anxious, but now he felt sure his spell would be the greatest of the evening.
‘Samuel!’ Goodfellow whispered beside him. ‘They’re calling you.’
Samuel awoke from his daydreaming with a start and jumped to his feet. He stepped out into the centre of the chamber, trying to walk as gracefully as he could. He had been planning his presentation quite carefully, and so he bowed deeply and hoped it looked as impressive as he envisaged. The audience was quiet and expectant.
‘Samuel,’ Master Dividian began. ‘Answer me this simple question.’ With that, the old man rattled off a series of numbers using the Old Tongue and asked Samuel to add them together.
Samuel only needed a moment to formulate his response. ‘One hundred and forty-seven,’ he answered.
‘Correct,’ Dividian stated coarsely and sat back down in his seat. ‘You may continue,’ he added with a wave of his hand. ‘Show us your spell.’
Samuel called back to Master Dividian before the man had even settled into his seat. ‘But I already have, Master Dividian. What do you think of it?’
‘What nonsense are you talking about?’ Dividian responded. ‘Show us your spell quickly, boy. We don’t have all night.’
Samuel smiled to himself, for Dividian’s response worked perfectly to his advantage. ‘My spell, Master Dividian, is here in plain sight for you all to see. I cast it a few hours ago and everyone seems to be enjoying it greatly.’
Dividian stood up, blinking and looking around with confusion plain on his face. ‘Explain yourself,’ he called to Samuel curtly.
With that, Samuel waved his hand dismissively and the Great Hall vanished around them and everyone found themselves sitting outside in the school grounds. The congregation began murmuring and talking all at once as they struggled to understand what had happened. The moon shone overhead and the cool night air blew upon them. The Great Hall stood some twenty paces away from them and, apart from the fact that they were still sitting on long hard benches, everything else had vanished.
‘You see,’ Samuel began and everyone quietened to listen once more, ‘I set this spell some hours ago as the Adept were arranging the Great Hall. We have been outside all this time. It’s a grand illusion, so I believe.’
Dividian was dumbfounded and his chin bobbed up and down wordlessly as he struggled with what to say, looking left and right, making his woolly beard swing around absurdly. Grand Master Anthem and a handful of other Masters were smiling and Samuel caught a few nods of approval from them.
Feeling the time was right, Samuel waved his hand again and they were all suddenly back inside the hall, walls firmly around them, roof firmly overhead. ‘Or what do you think?’ he asked of the audience. ‘Perhaps that was the illusion after all and we are still really inside?’
Master Dividian began looking around himself feverishly and Samuel could barely contain his amusement. He was about to cast his spell again, when Master Glim stood and interrupted him.
‘Thank you, Samuel,’ Master Glim called out. ‘We get the point. Your illusion is really very convincing, but we don’t want to give poor Master Dividian a heart attack. You can return to your seat now.’
Samuel felt somewhat disappointed, for he had hoped to continue working his spells for a good time yet.
‘That was fantastic, Samuel!’ Eric said adamantly as Samuel returned beside him. ‘I was utterly convinced that we were really outside. Ah…being outside was the illusion, wasn’t it?’
Samuel laughed. ‘Of course. It would be impossible to conduct such a grand illusion as the Great Hall. Someone would be sure to notice it, especially when they went to lean on a wall and fell straight through.’
‘The best part was the subtlety, Samuel,’ Goodfellow mentioned. ‘A cool breeze. Some night birds calling. It was very convincing. You used such a trickle of power for your spell—very efficient and very difficult to detect. Only a few Masters knew what you were up to. I was completely taken in.’
Samuel smiled and went to talk some more, but Master Dividian had recovered his wits and the evening was set to continue.
‘Well, thank you for that amusing interlude, Samuel,’ Master Dividian called out.
Samuel gritted his teeth at this. ‘Old fool,’ he whispered under his breath. ‘Just because he’s too stupid to know a spell when he sees it.’
The remaining boys each had a turn to show their spells, until only one last apprentice remained.
‘And the last apprentice is Eric Goodfellow,’ Dividian finished.
Samuel and Eric both patted their friend on the back as
he edged past them and went to the centre of the room. He answered Dividian’s question easily, stating the five Old World regions of Amandia in the Old Tongue. Then, Goodfellow sucked at his bottom lip a moment as he prepared his spell. Readied, he walked to the wall and, to everyone’s surprise, went straight up it until he reached the roof, where he began walking upside-down along it, carefully treading around the various hangings and decorations and stepping through the beams. He continued as the audience watched on, with their necks cranked back and their mouths hanging open, until he strode down the last wall and returned to his starting place in the centre of the chamber. Everyone, including Samuel, clapped enthusiastically as Goodfellow humbly returned to his seat. Samuel had not even suspected that Goodfellow could have had such a spell hidden up his sleeve. Goodfellow had obviously been keeping some of his true talents to himself. Samuel made a mental note to remember the spell and try it himself afterwards.
‘I am speechless!’ Grand Master Anthem announced. ‘Young Eric Goodfellow has produced such a wonderful spell. I’m sure even some of the Masters will be asking him for advice after that.’
Dividian then regained the reins of the event. ‘Now, with the apprentices all finished, it is time for the Adept to come forward and prove they are worthy of being granted the status of Masters of the Order of Magicians.’
The Adept all stood from their seats and filed into the centre of the chamber. As if rehearsed, they began simultaneously, each demonstrating various summoning stances. Their movements were obviously well practised, but some still made a few slight, noticeable mistakes, or were not as proficient as others. They moved between different stances, making variations the apprentices had yet to learn. Samuel sat up straight and paid close attention, for it was fascinating how much extra magic could be summoned with only minor adjustments to the basic summoning stances. The Adept also formed many of the powerful hand-matrices, and occasionally one would shout a word of Old Tongue and their aura would become intensely brilliant. Samuel was impressed that even some of the poorly skilled Adept could increase their power so much—even if it was for only a brief moment.
After a few minutes of this, the Adept all moved to perimeter of the centre space and faced inwards, holding their stances. Some closed their eyes or tensed their jaws in preparation, and Samuel leaned forward expectantly. He suspected that they would each cast some spell, using all the energy they had summoned, but instead they began something different. They began to push their power away from themselves and into the centre of the room. Samuel watched on as they manipulated their individual energies until it combined into one interwoven pool of power. The hairs on Samuel’s arms began to stand up and, looking around the hall, Samuel could see that everyone else was similarly affected. When the pool of magic had been completely formed from all of the Adepts’ power, they released the enormous spell and the magic slowly began to dissipate back into the ether. They had managed to combine all their individual weaves into one greater spell. There was no real purpose to the display other than for demonstration, but Samuel realised it could have immensely useful applications.
‘Wonderfully done,’ Dividian called out to them. ‘A fine example of a Manyspell, symbolically representing the fact that it is not only important that the individuals of the Order be well skilled, but that they can cooperate efficiently.’ The Adept went back to their seats. Most of them looked relieved that their part in the evening’s formalities was done. ‘It is time to congratulate all our students for their hard work, so please—everyone.’ With that, old Dividian began clapping and everyone in the hall quickly followed, making a thunderous noise for several minutes as everyone had thoroughly enjoyed the evening’s demonstrations. Many Masters looked very pleased and congratulated any of the students within reach of them with a brisk shake of hands.
‘And now, if you please.’ It was Grand Master Anthem. He had replaced Dividian and was urging everyone to quieten. Eventually, the applause subsided as he waved his hands about and called for some silence. ‘Ahem,’ he began. He voice was deep and smooth, as opposed to Dividian’s hoarse croaking, and carried to all corners of the hall without the slightest need for him to raise his voice. ‘I think that I must be the most pleased man in this room, for all of you have truly exceeded yourselves tonight. It proves that the Order of Magicians is making great headway, producing the finest standard of magicians. As a small reward for all of you tonight, it is time for some of us Masters to show you a few spells. As is customary, I would like to challenge a few of my old colleagues to a friendly duel of magic.’
At that, five older Masters stood and began making their way down to the front seats near Grand Master Anthem.
‘Who are they?’ Samuel whispered to Eric Goodfellow.
‘Together with Grand Master Anthem, they are the Seven Lions, Eric replied. ‘Well…there’s only six now. They are all Grand Masters and fought in the last battle of the Imperial War.’ Samuel nodded in awe. ‘They say together they are the most powerful magicians in existence.’
Eric Goodfellow leaned over and whispered. ‘If not for them, we’d probably be speaking Garten right now—or so they say.’
A few others nearby began shooshing them, so Samuel returned his attention to the floor. Grand Master Anthem was about to continue his address.
‘Now, we will give a small demonstration,’ he stated simply. ‘Remember that we are quite experienced with all this, and I don’t want any of you trying what you may see here tonight. You’d probably knock your own fool heads off.’
With that, everyone began laughing. Grand Master Anthem stepped out into the centre of the hall and waited, while the first of the Seven Lions stepped out to face him.
‘Jurien,’ Goodfellow whispered, and Samuel nodded in understanding.
Grand Master Jurien did not look like much, for his posture was a little bent with age and his face littered with wrinkles. Indeed, if not for the burning radiance around him, Samuel could easily mistake him for any of the doddering old Masters that spent their days idly in the common room.
The two men bowed to each other and each formed a summoning stance to begin. They began gathering their power, breathing deeply and slowly changing between various stances. Anthem finally settled in a very low, half-sitting stance with his arms held out, palms up, as if he were carrying a great bowl. Samuel could see that Anthem was summoning a vast knot of energy that completely filled the space between his arms, and became greater and greater so that the old man’s hands were beginning to shake with the effort. It was such an immense amount of power to summon so quickly, already far greater than all of the Adept’s combined effort, as if the power was just dropping out of the air into his arms. As the power continued to grow, Anthem put other various spells to work, guiding and melding his magic, crafting it into a concentrated sphere of energy.
Grand Master Jurien was standing side-on, with one palm directed at Anthem, the other hand behind his back. It was an unusual stance that Samuel had never seen before, or even imagined for that matter, as it was unlike most of the traditional stances they had so far been taught. Magic manifested all around the magician’s body and began gathering towards his palm. It was impressive, but Samuel, with his sight, could see the old Grand Master was far outmatched, for Anthem was conjuring power at a much greater rate.
Just then, and unexpectedly, Jurien changed his stance, thrusting both hands as fists towards the Grand Master. Pure energy arced towards the Grand Master, carrying such force that it manifested into the physical realm and formed streams of intense blazing power that streaked Samuel’s vision. The crowd gasped in amazement. Samuel half-expected Anthem to be vaporised by such force, but the bolts struck the Grand Master’s magic sphere and vanished completely, sucked into it like a fly gulped down by a bullfrog. The crowd gasped again and began applauding loudly.
Anthem then retaliated with a sly grin. He drew just a fragment of the energy from between his hands and sent it flying towards Grand Master Jurien, who, t
aken by surprise, only now began putting up his magical defences. He was far too slow, and Anthem’s spell seized his body and threw him back against the wall with a tremendous cracking sound. The crowd gasped once more in disbelief as Jurien slumped to the ground.
Samuel was thinking the old man was surely dead, but Jurien rolled over with a groan and stood up on wobbly legs. Surprising everyone, the old Grand Master actually began laughing.
‘Ha ha ha, you old devil!’ he called out to Anthem. ‘I can’t believe you beat me so easily this time. Very well. Very well. I yield!’ And with that he strode gracefully to the side and resumed his seat by the others. It took the audience several moments to recover from the shock and then everyone began applauding as hard as they all could. Of course, many of the old Masters had seen this many times, and they merely sat and looked on, making the odd comment to each other. Some even chatted together idly and ignored the scene completely.
Grand Master Anthem bowed modestly to his defeated opponent, all the while keeping his sizzling ball of magic in his upturned palm.
The second of the Seven Lions then strode out confidently and took his place opposite Grand Master Anthem. His robes were long and splendid, having silver adorned hems. Samuel could already see magic bursting from the air all around him as he settled into Simple Stance, standing straight, palms together almost as if in prayer. Anthem did nothing, as his power was already at hand and waited patiently for his opponent to prepare himself.
‘Grand Master Orien,’ Goodfellow whispered.
Samuel was about to ask Goodfellow a question when some magical weaves sprang up right before him and Samuel almost leapt out of his seat with surprise. Then, he realised that some of the other Masters were creating a spell shield all around the audience, to protect them from any harm, should the duelling Grand Masters get carried away.
The Young Magician (The Legacy Trilogy) Page 23
