Master of the five Magics m-1

by Lyndon Hardy

  Alodar sighed wearily and looked up into the first rays reaching over the horizon. "My contract is not yet completed," he said as he set the small chest aside and fumbled into the pouch at his waist. He grabbed a few of the small stones and flung them across the ground. "With these gems, you are more than paid in full." He looked down at the chest and reached into the bag again. "And a fee for the rest since it is by your tunnels I obtained the treasure that is totally mine."

  Basil looked at the small jewels scattered at his feet and then down at Alodar's side. "Well said, novice," he replied. "You as well as your master Saxton have a spirit I would love to break. But I am not a man for grudges. Give me that interesting item you extracted from the depths and you leave a free man, with whatever remains in your pouch, as well."

  "You have already been paid," Alodar said. "You have no just claim to anything more."

  Basil looked quickly about the camp. "Perhaps I do not," he admitted, "but then Rendrac is not so principled as I. His impulses cannot always be controlled, although when he apologizes to me with small gifts such as these, all is forgiven," He again ran his hands through the chests and motioned Rendrac forward with a wave. "Take the small chest," he ordered. "The treasure from the depths. I want it all."

  "Well enough," Rendrac growled, stepping forward. "Let us see what this novice can do without a protector standing at his side." With a frown of irritation, he wiggled both arms stiffly in a shimmer of opalescence in the rays of the rising sun. He grimaced and reached up to pull at his cheek, frowning with the effort.

  Alodar struggled to his feet and tried to force his senses alert. He looked at the giant striding forward and he sighed with his fatigue. "Cedric says that you will not win unless you think that you can," he muttered, but other thoughts brushed his concentration aside. For months he had received less than a good night's sleep, and in the past day none at all. Whatever energy he had left seemed boiled away in the depths of the mountain. His arms and legs were no more than dead limbs on a burnt-out tree, hollowed to the core. And Rendrac had pummeled him into the corner of Saxton's shop with ease when he was fresh and alert. What chance had he now? But it was for vengeance he had come, and it must be seen through to the end.

  Alodar drew his sword and tensed, ready as he could be. He breathed the sweet air deeply, trying to force life back into his tired limbs as Rendrac unsheathed his blade and slowly swung his arm back for the initial blow.

  Alodar dully watched the tip of the sword as it cut through the air in the backward swing and then reversed direction to begin its journey forward. He turned to the side and presented his own sword as guard, wincing in anticipation of the shock of contact. He blinked once, but the blow did not come.

  In disbelief, Alodar looked to Rendrac's face and then back to the weapon still in midswing. As Alodar watched, it slowed to a crawl and then stopped motionless.

  Almost simultaneously, the big man uttered a weak yelp, and his free hand slowly rose with a spasm of effort from his waist to a mouth held rigidly open under eyes filled with fear. For a second, nothing happened and then, like a silver statue, Rendrac toppled to the ground with a loud clang.

  Alodar moved to the prostrate form, its limbs still in the rigid position they had held when erect. He reached out and touched the hand that held the blade and felt a deep coldness, rock-hard and smooth, Alodar struck down with his own sword, pommel first, onto an outstretched rigid arm. The now inert form rang from the contact.

  "The ointment," Alodar murmured. "It was meant to be used sparingly and burnt off. Rendrac was too greedy and applied too much. And now it has degraded with age and entrapped him."

  Basil's jaw dropped in stunned disbelief, but he recovered and turned to the miners cautiously pressing closer behind. "After him," the apothecary shouted. "His blade can touch but one or two, and we will have his treasure to add to our own as well."

  The miners hesitated, and Alodar saw his opportunity. With his last burst of energy, he sprinted forward and tipped over the chests at Basil's feet, sending a cascade of brilliant jewels rolling down the hillside.

  The advancing miners paused, then spun around in pursuit of the treasure as it tumbled by. In a moment, they were racing pell-mell after the speeding stones as they fell. Basil hesitated a moment more, eyeing first Alodar and then the gems cascading away.

  "Stop, you wretches!" he yelled at last. "Unhand what is rightly the property of Basil the apothecary." The men paid him no heed and raced onward, stooping and picking up the gems as they went.

  "Stop, I say!" Basil called out as he pursued, pulling the magic dagger from his belt and waving it high in the air. With a vicious swing, he whacked at the neck of the slowest moving henchman as he stooped, and kicked out at another as he halted to consider which path downward to follow.

  In an instant Alodar was alone, with only dim shouts and an occasional cry to break the stillness. He sat wearily down at last to collect his thoughts and decide what to do next.

  The sounds grew fainter, and he decided that Basil and the others would not soon return to bother him. He looked about and retrieved from the hillside the small chest he had found and gently cradled it in his hands.

  The deeper he went, the bigger had been the gemstones; and this was the deepest of all. Jewels for a royal diadem had been strewn about the cavern floor. What greater treasure must be resting within the confines of this small box? Visions of perfectly cut diamonds bigger than oranges danced in his mind. With a wrench of his knife, he popped open the lid.

  He peered inside, and his heart sank in disappointment. Instead of breathtaking jewels, he saw instead two black spheres of volcanic basalt. Six months of effort, back-breaking labor and great risk to his life from the hazards of the formula, the snares of Basil's factories, and finally the furnaces in the center of the mountain; and what did he have to show for it? A few jewels in his pouch and two machined hunks of common rock.

  He had pictured himself questing for the fair lady like a hero from the sagas. His deed of daring was to win great treasure and sweep him in front of all others that sought her hand!

  He sighed and set the chest to the ground. With his chin slumped he sat inert and unmoving and let the sun climb silently into the sky.

  The inn room door creaked open to Alodar's knock, and he looked into the face of Periac, the master thaumaturge.

  "Alodar, you have returned," Periac exclaimed. "Come in, come in. You are just in time for an evening's instruction. We will continue from where we left off on the hills that bordered Iron Fist."

  Alodar looked wearily around the small bare room and headed for the stool in the corner. "A meal and a night's rest first, master, for which I will fairly pay," he said. "And it is not for knowledge of thaumaturgy that I seek you out."

  As Alodar slumped down, Periac reached out to brush the dust off the table with a sweep of his arm. "But I fare quite well in the city," he said. "There is much pot mending and cistern excavation to be done and word of an honest craftsman soon gets around. I can well use a journeyman and you would find your stomach far better filled than when we worked the outlands. I doubt your start with alchemy has fared as well."

  Alodar reached for the pouch at his side and placed it on the table. "I have learned a few of the simpler activations and formulas," he replied. "Saxton was most trusting with his craft when we had a rare idle moment together. It is true that I still know more of thaumaturgy. But as for the fruits of my effort, what do you think of these?"

  With a flourish, he tipped the sack. A sapphire, a tourmaline, and two rubies clattered onto the table.

  Periac's eyes widened and he stroked his goatee in thought. "In truth," he said at last, "you have always impressed me as a clever lad. Perhaps your skill does better reside with another craft."

  Alodar waved his hand over the table. "It may well be impressive," he said, "but not enough to turn the head of the fair lady. Here, take one ruby. It is yours for the favors I ask of you. Seek out the shop of the alch
emist and use the second to see that he has a decent burial. The sapphire I would have you carry to Cedric the warmaster, in compensation for my not continuing instruction at his hand."

  He glanced down at the table and put the tourmaline back into the pouch. "The last I will save," he said, "for I suppose tomorrow I must eat as well. But the true reason for why I am here, master, is because of your knowledge of other than the craft of which you are master." Without waiting for reply, Alodar reached again to his waist and brought forth the small chest. He flipped back the lid and held it forward for Periac's inspection, his eyebrows rising in expectation.

  "They are magic," the thaumaturge said without hesitation. "Magic spheres of fine construction."

  "Magic," Alodar echoed, squinting at the container. Gingerly he grasped one of the spheres with his gloved hand and found that he could not extract it, so smooth was its surface polish. He removed his glove and tried again with his bare hand. An electric tingling suddenly pulsed through his fingers, and immediately he was reminded of the feeling when he handled Aeriel's dagger. Exerting all the force he could muster to prevent it from slipping away, he slowly pried out one of the orbs and turned it quickly over to gaze at it in his palm.

  It was black, totally black, the deepest black Alodar had ever seen. In an indescribable way, it sang of perfection, a sphere of such precision that no mere lathesman could ever hope to duplicate it. His hand vibrated from holding the orb, and somehow he was acutely aware that it contained great power.

  Alodar returned the sphere to its resting place and examined its companion in the same way. It was identical to the first, except that a thin line neatly circumscribed it, dividing it into two perfectly equal hemispheres.

  Alodar had never seen such handicraft in his life, but there could be no doubt, "Magic," he mumbled as his spirits returned. "Magic spheres somehow placed in a pool of molten lava.

  "But what more of them can you tell?" he continued. "Of what use can they be? Surely they have more utility than ornamentation."

  "They are incompletely formed," Periac said. "The ritual that has created them is not yet complete. And when it is finished, I cannot fathom what will be their virtue, but to their possessor they will convey great power indeed."

  "Power," Alodar muttered and then paused in thought. "At Iron Fist I applied my wits and was bested by skill in arms," he said at last. "In Ambrosia, I learned those skills, but in the end Rendrac's brute force carried back the treasure for the queen. It is raw power I must have to win the day; wits and training are not yet enough.

  "Power," he repeated, lightly juggling the small chest in his hand. "My quest leaves me little choice but what I have here. Yes, there can be no other way about it, Either I am defeated or strike to unlock the secret of the spheres and hope it gives me what I will need to win the fair lady."

  He popped out of his introspection and looked into Periac's face. "But how can I learn of magic?" he said. "Basil the apothecary did mention dealing with a Lectonil to the south. Perhaps in his guild I will find what I must know."

  "He would be as good as any," Periac said. "But from him or any other magician you would learn little. Judge not the manner of instruction of the other crafts from what you know of the nature of thaumaturgy." He glanced at the gems still on the table and stroked his goatee. "And perhaps of alchemy as well. Magicians are a secretive lot, far removed from the dealings of nobles and common men alike. They pass on their rituals only to the initiates and acolytes who pledge lifetimes to their secluded service."

  He shook his head and spread his arms wide. "You have experienced the workings of two crafts, Alodar," he said. "Is it not enough? If alchemy is not to your liking, then return to my instruction. To delve now into magic will only compound your folly."

  Alodar snapped shut the chest and returned it to his pocket. "Perhaps you are right, master," he said, "and someday I might indeed return to your teachings." He paused and his eyes widened. "But power!" he said. "It is worth giving the random factors another chance to align. Yes, by all means, master, let me profit one more day from your instruction. But tomorrow I will travel south to ferret out the spheres' meaning. Ferret out their meaning in a palace of magicians."

  PART THREE

  The Magician

  CHAPTER NINE

  The Palace of the Cycloid Guild

  ALODAR gently lowered the card onto the others and held his breath. The flimsy structure did not collapse and he reached for the next one in the deck. A child's pastime, he muttered to himself. What possible bearing could it have on determining his merit. He frowned at the tower already three tiers high and tried to decide the best place to start the next level.

  "Enough, there is no need to proceed further," a harsh voice sounded from across the table.

  Alodar blinked out of his concentration and looked up just in time to see a robed arm sweep across and tumble the construction away. "But I had not reached my limit," he said. "Even as a boy, I was able to form a fourth story before it crashed to the ground."

  "There was more to the directions than just building a house of cards," the man facing him said. "After three blacks in a row, then a red must follow. And at no time can your elbow touch the table unless you place your free hand to your forehead as well."

  "I ignored the details in the depth of my concentration," Alodar replied. "Though in truth, master Lectonil, I do not see how they can matter."

  "They are important because they illustrate my point," Lectonil said, stabbing his index finger down against the deck. His hair was white and covered his head like a fuzzy bush growing on top of a rocky mound. Deep-set wrinkles furrowed his broad face with age and his eyes always frowned, regardless of what he said. He wore a black robe covered with a pattern of many tiny silver rings, the logo of the magician.

  "What you were attempting was not magic, but a ritual nonetheless,"' he continued. "And it is by ritual that all magical objects are made." His frown deepened and he examined Alodar's expression critically as he spoke. "These rituals must be performed with utmost precision. Utmost precision or else they will fail. One hasty step or sloppy motion and all the labor that went before is instantly undone. A ring already priceless can become no more than the one in the nose of a bull."

  "I was most careful as I proceeded," Alodar said.

  "Yes, to construct a house of cards, each one must be precisely placed," Lectonil said pulling his lips into a grim smile. "But you must satisfy the boundary conditions as well."

  Alodar did not reply, but glanced around the small bare hut and then quickly through the single window to the landscape beyond. The terrain sloped uphill, much steeper than the Fumus Mountains. Except for one well-worn path, the rough ground was untouched by the mark of man. The summer green of hearty shrubs stood out brightly in the midday sun, but farther back vague shadows shimmered and faded like reflections in an agitated pond. Except for this single shack, the entire palace was hidden behind that curtain. Periac was right about the secrecy of the magicians. A hard hour's climb from the village in the valley below, admission to the grounds only when accompanied by someone who knew the way through the shimmering veil, and acceptance on a permanent basis that depended upon satisfying arcane criteria hidden by these tests.

  Alodar looked again at the dancing images, some soaring high like runs of rope dangling in the air. Others hugged the ground like giant slugs. The larger structures must be buildings, he thought, and the smaller blobs people moving between. He squinted and tried to discern some detail, but nothing resolved in the blur.

  "Precision is the essence of magic," Lectonil continued, waving his arm towards the window. "Even for the most menial of tasks, one must have sufficient control. But you have fared well in the preliminary tests of the others. And my exercise with the cards shows your hand to be steady and your mind quick enough, despite the error at the end." He studied Alodar and his eyes narrowed. "Quick enough to execute properly a long and complex list of instructions, once you have learned to follow
exactly the direction of a master magician."

  "Do you mean that I am admitted as an initiate?" Alodar asked.

  Lectonil raised his hand palm forward. "Our roster of initiates is complete," he said, "and until one advances to an acolyte, the Guild is reluctant to accept more. I offer you now the position of a neophyte only."

  "If I have aptitude, as your examination has indicated." Alodar asked, "then cannot I somehow profit from your instruction nonetheless?"

  "My day is quite full with research and direction as it is," Lectonil said. "I have no time to waste on one not of my persuasion."

  Alodar wrinkled his brow in puzzlement but Lectonil continued. "Of that I make no secret," he said. "Beliac opposes me openly in the council. He proposes new lines of investigation, new experimentation with rituals as yet untried. They might hold the glitter of excitement for the younger masters and some of the acolytes but they present much peril as well. We have prospered over the centuries with objects of great tradition and modest embellishments carefully researched. What need do we have for radical dissipation of our resources on tinkering that may produce no return at all? Had Beliac shown the proper respect when he received his black robe, I might have nurtured him along. But immediately he attacked my ways; no heed did he pay to my station. With each passing year his boldness grew as he subverted more to his cause. Such is not a proper way for a master to act. He should have pride in his Guild, of which I am the senior member."

  He spat. "Beliac! How can he be so blind to what I have accomplished, the reputation I have established through years of carefully planned research? I would not doubt he is demon possessed, so destructive is the direction in which he tries to convince us to go. Yes, demon possessed. If it can happen to some uncultured outland baron, then why not a learned master magician as well?"