Simon held his hands up against the fire and his eyes widened in shock. Seen against the light, they were almost skeletal. His knuckles stood out like knobs on a tree branch and the skin looked thin and stretched.
He looked at Aeris and then at Kronk, both filled with concern, although the air elemental tried to hide it with his brusque tone.
Maybe they are seeing more clearly than I am right now, he thought. Was he just being stubborn? If so, it could cost him his powers, or worse. And that would leave the world with one less weapon to use against the dark gods.
Simon bent down and picked up the blanket with a trembling hand. He wrapped it around himself again and snuggled into the chair.
“Okay, guys,” he said in resignation. “You win. Perhaps I should take a break from practicing. For a little while, anyway.”
“Wonder of wonders, he's finally seeing reason,” Aeris said with a tiny smile.
Kronk grinned broadly.
“Excellent, master. You need to eat more and work less. We will take care of any chores that need doing. Won't we?” he asked Aeris pointedly.
“Hmm? Oh yes, of course we will,” Aeris said, trying to sound more eager than he looked.
Simon chuckled at their exchange.
“Thanks, you two. I know you have my best interests at heart. Maybe I've been a bit too eager to regain what I've lost. It's mid-winter now anyway. I'll rest, read a few old books I haven't read for a long time and get my strength back.”
“Well, at least that will save me from having to travel to Nottinghill and telling Clara what's been happening here,” Aeris said slyly.
“What? You weren't going to squeal on me, were you?” Simon asked faintly.
“Of course I was. And bear that in mind the next time you overexert yourself. You wouldn't want that poor woman slogging through the cold and snow to check on your health, would you?”
“You're heartless, Aeris. Do you know that?”
“Of course I am. I'm an elemental. We don't have hearts. Now why don't you be a good little wizard and go up to bed. Your convalescence starts now.”
Chapter 7
Simon's recovery took almost three weeks. Once he had admitted to himself that he really had pushed his mind and body too far too soon, the wizard was able to take a step back and relax, albeit with poor grace.
He went to bed early and slept until noon most days. He sat by the fire drinking cup after cup of chamomile tea and reading old beloved books that he hadn't picked up in years. He ate when he was hungry, baking bread and cakes using his precious supply of flour and actually enjoying the mundane tasks.
In short, Simon O'Toole took a holiday from magic. The elementals allowed him to light candles with his power, but that was the extent of it. And to his surprise, the wizard began to feel better.
He put on some weight, although with his lanky frame, Simon would never be a heavyweight. His tremors disappeared and he became a little less susceptible to chills. Although he would never like the cold of winter, he did become better at coping with it.
And the black smears of exhaustion faded from under his eyes. Even his dark hair, with its streaks of white caused by casting master-class spells in his fight with the black dragon, became fuller and shinier again. It hung down below his shoulders now, but Simon had no urge to cut it. Long hair on a wizard, at least in his mind, seemed to be appropriate.
Aeris traveled to Nottinghill once during Simon's convalescence, to see if Clara and the villagers were doing all right. When he returned, he assured the wizard that he hadn't told the cleric about Simon's condition. In fact, he said that he had reassured her that all was well and that when the weather became more tolerable, they would all travel to the village for a visit.
“Thanks, Aeris,” Simon said with relief after the air elemental's report. “Clara has enough on her plate taking care of her own people without worrying about me.”
“You're welcome,” Aeris replied with a tight smile. “And you're right. Winter is hard on them and the cleric helps to keep them organized and focused. I hope when the weather breaks that we do head down there to see them.”
“Oh, we will, we will. But I'd rather wait until the spring, or close to it. This is pretty much the worst winter that I can remember, and that includes the winters I lived through back in my old life.”
Aeris floated above the desk in the study. Simon had been idly going through his spell-book, but under the watchful eye of the elemental, he hadn't attempted to cast even the simplest of spells.
He suddenly made a notation on one of the spells, looked at it intently and nodded. Aeris watched this curiously.
“What was that for?” he asked Simon, indicating the spell-book.
“Hmm? Well, I know it sounds weird, but in the past few days when I've checked my spells, I've found some, I don't know, mistakes in the incantations. So I've been correcting as I read through them.”
“How do you know they're mistakes? They worked before, didn't they?”
Simon read the spell under his breath, careful not to concentrate and actually memorize it.
“Yeah, they did.” He shrugged. “I've just had a, you know, feeling. That's all.”
The air elemental seemed to be pondering that answer and then his expression brightened.
“I wonder if this is the gods of Justice finding a surreptitious of helping you again? They were thwarted by their enemies when you were stripped of your magic and your knowledge, so perhaps they are fine-tuning your spells, making them more efficient.”
The wizard sat back and thought about Aeris' notion. It wasn't a crazy idea. Simon had picked up spells through dreams in the past, dreams that he'd learned originated from the gods. So maybe they were helping again, this time in a more subtle, less obvious way.
“That's a possibility, Aeris. Good thinking. The gods may actually be taking advantage of my down-time to slip these alterations into my dreams.”
He smiled a bit crookedly.
“I'm certainly getting enough sleep these days.”
Aeris floated over and hovered next to Simon, staring down at the spell-book.
“Well, if we're correct, there's no way to substantiate the theory until you are at full strength again and able to try to cast them. In the meantime, by all means continue with those tweaks. They may prove very useful indeed.”
“I will,” Simon said and went back to scanning the book.
Simon estimated that it was late January or early February when he was declared fit and back to normal by both Aeris and Kronk.
He was both amused and slightly irritated by the fact that the two elementals were the ones deciding when he could try to use magic again, but they had his best interests at heart. That was at least reassuring.
On the first morning that he was feeling like his old self, Simon brought his spell-book down to the main room and sat at the kitchen table as he went through it. He drank tea and tried to decide which spell to attempt first.
He had modified almost all of them in some way. Runes had been rearranged. Some had been added while others were erased. In fact, the book was looking decidedly frayed and dog-eared and he decided to copy all of the spells out into a new notebook at the first opportunity. He had a stack of them in storage.
“So which spell are you going to cast first, master?” Kronk asked a bit anxiously. He was standing on the table next to Simon. Aeris hovered nearby.
Both of the elementals were watching him closely; in case he overdid it, Simon assumed.
“Yes, oh great wizard. What spectacular feat of magical prestidigitation are you going to impress us with?”
Simon glared at Aeris, who grinned insolently at him.
With a reluctant laugh, the wizard shrugged.
“I haven't decided yet. It won't be Sparkle, that's for sure. I've had enough of that spell.”
He hesitated, sure that the two were going to protest, and said “I thought maybe a Magic Missile spell.”
Simon was half rig
ht.
“Master!” Kronk was aghast. “You cannot begin your magical practices again with that spell! It is much too taxing on your delicate system.”
Simon sighed loudly.
“Kronk, I'm not made of spun glass, you know.”
“But...”
“Hang on a moment, my rocky friend,” Aeris said to Kronk. He was looking at Simon speculatively. “That's not such a bad choice actually.”
“What?” Kronk stared at Aeris incredulously. “Do you want our master to harm himself again?”
“Naturally not. But as far as offensive spells go, Magic Missile takes the least effort to cast. It is the first one that wizards learned back in the old days when they began battle training.”
Simon found himself nodding in agreement with Aeris. One of the first times ever, he thought wryly.
“That's why I choose it, Kronk,” he told his little friend. “Remember, when I was first starting out, I was casting that spell soon after I summoned you by accident.”
Kronk looked from one of them to the other, his expression one of disapproval. Then he threw up his little arms and looked so fiercely at Aeris that the air elemental flew back a foot.
“Fine. If our master injures himself, I am holding you responsible.”
Simon tried to reassure Kronk, but the little guy was having none of it.
“Go ahead, master. Do what you want to. I know you will anyway. I will just stand here and try to catch you if you collapse.”
“Oh, for...Kronk, you and my late mother could have exchanged notes on guilt trips, do you know that?”
The little guy tapped across to the far side of the table and stood there with his arms crossed, staring sadly at Simon.
“I do not know what you mean, master,” he said stiffly.
“Yeah, right.”
Simon read through the Magic Missile spell slowly, memorizing the incantation carefully. He wanted to make no mistakes on his first cast. He knew he'd never hear the end of it from Kronk if he did.
When he was certain that he had the spell locked into his mind, he got up and walked to the front door. It was a clear, cold day but the air was calm and it wasn't quite as frigid as it had been over the past few weeks.
When he slipped the bolts aside and opened the door, he heard a gasp from behind him.
“Master, you should put on your coat! You'll catch a chill.”
Simon just shook his head silently and stood in the doorway staring across the yard.
The wall was half-covered with snow, banked up six feet high by the winds that usually blew around the tower. The wizard was looking for a target for the Magic Missile spell. He focused on a section of the wall just above the snow-line where there was a random patch of frost that stood out because of its irregular shape.
“Okay,” he muttered. “Here we go.”
He spared a regretful glance at Bene-Dunn-Gal, leaning against the wall next to the door.
Not yet, he thought. I'm not powerful enough to use it yet.
Then Simon raised his arms, stared across the snow-covered yard at the wall and chanted the spell.
“Invectis!” he intoned firmly and braced his arms against his body.
The results were unexpected and more spectacular than he had imagined they would be.
Bolts of light blasted from his fingertips, screamed across the yard and slammed into the wall. His arms were pushed back by the force of the spell and Simon stiffened them even more as he concentrated on his target.
There were two differences with this modified spell compared to his old Magic Missile spell. The magic missiles were bright blue, not white the way they used to be. And missiles had streamed from both hands. The old spell was cast using only one hand.
After a dozen dazzling bolts had crashed into the wall, leaving black smudges on the thick barrier, Simon's hands dropped to his sides and he had to take several deep breaths to slow down his racing heart.
“Are you all right, master?” Kronk asked him. The little guy had jumped down from the table and was standing just behind the wizard.
“I'm okay, Kronk.”
Simon stared at the distant marks on the wall and then looked down at Kronk.
“I may have chipped your wall a bit,” he told him with a smile.
The little guy moved into the doorway and looked across the yard at the damage.
“It is fine, master. If there is any harm done, I will repair it when the weather becomes warmer.”
He looked up at Simon.
“And now you should sit by the fire and warm up, master,” he said firmly and gave Simon's legs a gentle push to move him away from the open door.
Simon obeyed with a grin, happy that the little guy was in a better mood. As he walked back to the fireplace, he heard Kronk close the door and lock it. Aeris was watching him, still hovering above the kitchen table. He gave Simon a subtle wink as he caught his eye.
The wizard sat down with a satisfied grunt and leaned forward, stirring the fire a bit with the poker.
“That was amazing, guys,” he told them. “Maybe it was the modifications I've done to the spell, but I feel no fatigue. At all. That's unusual.”
“You are panting, master,” Kronk said to him as he moved up to the fire.
“Yes, but it's from excitement, not from fatigue,” Simon told him with a little embarrassment. “It was fun to actually cast a spell again.”
He sat back and watched the fire flicker with strange shapes and patterns. He replayed the image of the magic missiles shooting across the snow to slam into the wall.
What had been the difference from the old spell, besides the color of the missiles and using both hands? He thought about it for some time, the elementals a quiet presence next to him.
Finally he turned to look at Aeris to his right. The elemental had floated quietly from the table to hover next to his chair.
“The magic didn't come from me,” he told him with wonder.
Aeris looked at him quizzically.
“I beg your pardon?” he asked.
“The power for the Magic Missile spell. It didn't come from inside me.”
“Then where did it come from, master?” Kronk asked, sounding as puzzled as Aeris seemed to be.
Simon waved his hand in a vague circle.
“From the air around me, I guess. I felt it, being pulled into me and channeled into the spell. It was as if my skin was absorbing the power from the world itself.”
Aeris' mouth dropped open and the wizard almost laughed at his surprised expression.
“What?” he asked.
“What you just described, Simon. I remember hearing about that once, a long, long time ago.”
“You do?”
Simon shifted himself around in the chair to watch the air elemental more easily.
“What do you remember?”
Aeris was frowning in concentration.
“It was a discussion I heard from a group of wizards. I had just reported back to my mistress from a scouting assignment. She was having a rather heated argument with an enchanter and...”
“Whoa, whoa,” Simon said quickly, interrupting the elemental's memories. “An enchanter? What's an enchanter?”
With a look of surprise, Aeris took a moment before answering.
“You haven't heard of enchanters before?” he asked.
Simon shook his head.
“Hmm, well, there are many types of magic-users, not just wizards, as I'm sure you know.”
At Simon's blank look, Aeris looked even more surprised.
“Really? You didn't know that? Well then, allow me to increase your knowledge, my dear wizard.”
He sounded a bit smug and Simon tried not to smile. Aeris always liked to show his superiority, at least in his own mind.
“Wizards are merely the most powerful of all casters. That is because they can use all aspects of magic to some degree. But there were others who specialized in various areas of magical use. Enchanters used their pow
er to infuse objects with magic. Weapons, armor, clothing, and many other things could be enchanted.”
“What kind of enchantments?” Simon asked.
“Protective spells, mostly. Either as shields against magical attack or physical damage. There were other specializations as well.”
Aeris paused and thought deeply.
“Let me think now. There were mages, of course. Sorcerers, witches, like your neighbor the herb witch, conjurers, and many others.”
“Wow, that's actually amazing,” Simon said as he tucked his blanket more firmly around his body. He'd felt a momentary chill.
“It is, isn't it?”
Simon stared thoughtfully at the fire.
“I wonder if any of those types of people exist among the Changlings?” he mused as he looked through the flames at the dancing shadows beyond.
“Which Changlings?”
“Clara's people. Others whom we haven't even met yet. You know, the new humans.”
“No idea, but at a guess I'd say yes.”
Aeris floated over to the kitchen counter, picked up the kettle sitting there and carried it back to the fireplace. He hung it over the fire and the wizard nodded gratefully.
“After all, as special as you may be, my dear wizard, you probably aren't unique.”
“I never thought I was,” Simon murmured and he settled deeper into his chair and waited for the kettle to boil.
“So, getting back to that conversation you overheard?”
Aeris looked at the wizard blankly for a moment.
“Oh, right. Yes, the one between my mistress and that enchanter. As I recall, they were having a heated debate on the limitations of magical energy. My mistress was stating categorically that once a wizard had used up their magical reserves, they would have to wait and rest before they could cast any spells again.”
“And the enchanter disagreed?”
“He certainly did. I believe he actually laughed and called her naïve. He said that she hadn't yet learned to tap into the deep magic and, until she did, she would never achieve master wizard status.”
Aeris picked up the now bubbling kettle and took it back to the counter.
The Dragons Revenge (Tales from the New Earth #2) Page 9
