Balthazar raised a hand in dismissal. ‘I was willing to take that chance with you, Samuel. Once you hear what I have to say, I hope you will feel somewhat enlightened and you will understand why we had to take such drastic measures.’
Samuel’s sight was gradually returning and he could now see that these men were all magicians, but not one of them was talented enough to warrant his concern. Their skills with magic were minor, yet the fact they had resorted to potions to capture him marked them as unpredictable, perhaps even dangerous. The man to Balthazar’s left seemed familiar. He had not spoken a word, but between Samuel’s instincts and the man’s idiotic grin, Samuel was fairly sure he was the chirpy fellow who had drawn open the curtains.
Samuel raised his hands. He needed some more time to recover his strength. ‘Enlighten me, then,’ he said resignedly.
‘We are no fools, Samuel. I myself began my life as a magician within the Order, but I soon realised how hollow and senseless such an organisation is-a tool for the Emperor. I may be a proud Turian, but I cannot so blindly follow the Emperor’s will. I also have a grand vision for the future. That is why I formed the Union of Modern Magicians, for we have banded together to help bring a more purposeful tomorrow.’
‘And how would you do that?’ Samuel asked, with no lack of scepticism.
‘We do not have the Magicians’ Council pulling our strings and we do not have the Archmage looking over our shoulders. We can achieve things that would take the Order years to even discuss. Oh, I see that you are doubtful, but I understand-truly, I do. These others were doubtful at first, but they came to see how I see and now we all work together to build a new future, as can you.’
‘So what do you actually do?’ Samuel asked. ‘I mean, what’s your plan?’
‘For now, we are strengthening ourselves, building our numbers. Each year we grow stronger and soon we will be a power to match the Order. Turia craves for a voice of reason amid all its terrible confusion.’
‘Well, how many members do you have now?’ Samuel asked with genuine curiosity.
Balthazar rubbed his chin with one long finger thoughtfully. ‘Including the seven of us here now…there are eight of us.’
‘Eight,’ Samuel responded, raising an eyebrow. ‘And how long have you been recruiting members?’
Balthazar chuckled. ‘Oh, barely three years.’ He actually sounded proud. ‘We grow stronger every year.’
‘Except, of course, for last year,’ the chirpy fellow reminded him. ‘Daniel and Sullumner both gave up and went home.’
‘Oh, yes,’ Balthazar admitted. ‘But this year, things will be different. With you counted amongst us, Samuel, the Order will finally be forced to treat us with respect.’
Samuel could hold back no longer. His mouth dropped open and he could not stop himself from laughing right in their faces. The men’s smiles sagged and wilted as he cackled away in front of them.
‘I’m sorry. Truly, I am,’ Samuel managed between giggles. ‘But you don’t know how ridiculous you sound.’ He would not normally have so easily broken down into such fits of laughter, but their concoction still seemed to be affecting his judgement.
Balthazar stood defiantly and the others leapt up to match him. ‘I will not be mocked by a boy, Samuel! I offer you my hand in friendship and union and you mock us all! This is too much!’
‘Please, Balthazar!’ Samuel finally managed to say, forcing a straight face. His cheeks ached from all the merriment. ‘I truly respect your ideas,’ he lied, ‘but I think your goals are somewhat fantastic. How can you possibly even entertain the idea of challenging the Order? By the very definition, you would be facing the Empire itself and, once the Emperor catches wind of such a plan, he will put an end to you all without hesitation. How can you hope to achieve anything?’
‘When they learn that we are a power to be reckoned with, they will yield to our demands.’
‘And how will you manage that, Balthazar? Look at you! There are only eight of you and, I don’t mean to offend, but you don’t exactly have anything to bargain with.’
Balthazar’s lips were pursed tightly. ‘We will be reckoned with, Samuel, because we have you to bargain with. I have heard whispers upon the streets and in the dens of Cintar where such information is traded. It is said that a magician of extraordinary power is coming. Eyes and agents are searching everywhere across Amandia, but I suspect you may be the one they are searching for, Samuel. I speculate that your mysterious lack of aura is a sign of much greater talents hidden within that even you may not have come to realise exist. I did not want to resort to such means, but you leave me little choice. You have no option but to help us.’
Samuel did not like to be threatened, especially by such a ranting fool as this. ‘And why would I help you, Balthazar?’
‘The extract of Eldinswurt is especially potent to us, Samuel. It disrupts a magician’s ability to concentrate. We will not give you the antidote until you do help us. Without it, you will never cast magic again.’
Samuel stopped laughing at Balthazar’s words. He reached into the ether and, indeed, found that he still could not gather himself enough to spell. He sat up straight on the cushion, suddenly feeling uncomfortable by the thought that Balthazar may be telling the truth.
‘I see you realise your predicament,’ Balthazar said, now grinning. ‘Even one as strong as you cannot prevail against my intellect. You cannot escape and, given time, you will come to see my point of view. We will teach and guide you. It could take weeks, months or years; we are patient. Only then will I give you the antidote.’
Samuel gained his feet to stand before his captor, looking up at the man. ‘Oh, really?’ he asked with a wry smile before throwing his fist up into Balthazar’s shocked face.
The man’s nose made a sound like a cracked walnut and he gave out a shrill squeal of pain and surprise. Quick as a fox, Samuel turned and dived out the window. He just caught a last glimpse of Balthazar clutching his bloodied face with both hands, before turning to see where he was going. Only then did the realisation of what he had just done hit him, for he was high above the ground and in immediate and mortal danger of breaking his neck. He plummeted through the air and was lucky enough to strike the thick hedge below, crashing through its dense foliage and rolling out onto the ground. There was a loud snap that had him dreadfully worried; Samuel hoped it was a branch and not his leg. He quickly ran his hands over himself to check for any jutting bones or bloody patches, for he had heard how the worst injuries often took the longest time to be felt. Thankfully, everything seemed to be in place and he afforded himself a great sigh of relief.
He dragged himself from the ruined remains of the hedge and thanked what-gods-there-may-be he had struck the soft bush and not the iron fence behind it. He looked up at the gape-mouthed men who were all staring out from the window above and smiled, giving them a farewell salute. Balthazar was yelling ‘Samuel! Come back, Samuel! We need you!’ with blood and tears streaming down his face. Samuel merely limped over to the wall, heaved himself up upon it and dropped down into the lane, trotting away as best he could.
As he neared the School of Magic, he decided he would have to tell Master Glim about this. They were, for the most part, harmless, but Balthazar and his Union of Modern Magicians had well overstepped their bounds this time. Master Glim would know exactly what to do with them.
They made no attempt to chase him down and Samuel only had a sore ankle to bother him by the time he arrived back at the School of Magic. He was relieved when Master Glim told him that Eldinswurt needed no antidote and had no permanent effects and, truly enough, his spells began to return after just a few hours. Master Glim had gone to see Balthazar immediately, promising to chastise the man for his intolerable behaviour.
‘I don’t think you will have any more trouble from them, Samuel,’ Master Glim stated upon his return, meeting Samuel in his dormitory. ‘By the time I arrived, they were already packing their bags. They were terrified, but I let th
em know in no uncertain terms that they had gone too far this time.’
‘What did they say?’ Samuel asked.
‘Balthazar was crying like a baby. What did you hit him with? His nose looks terrible!’ At that they both laughed.
‘He’s just lucky I couldn’t use magic,’ Samuel told his teacher. ‘He would be nursing much more than a broken nose right now.’
‘I’m sure. Anyway, we came to an agreement. Balthazar and his colleagues will take a trip to think things over. I told them if I see them before next winter, they will have to reckon with the Magicians’ Council. I think that put plenty of fear into them.’
‘So you’re not going to tell the Council?’
‘No,’ Master Glim professed. Balthazar’s Union is always up to some mischief. They’ve never really made any real trouble before and it gives us somewhere to send those students who aren’t quite suited to the Order.’
‘You mean the lunatics?’ Samuel asked in jest and Master Glim laughed aloud.
‘Yes, that’s right. Some of our graduates have strange ideas, and it generally keeps them out of mischief if they are marching around behind Balthazar, so he actually provides us with a service-of a kind. The Emperor wanted all other magical institutions forbidden, but Grand Master Anthem convinced him it was better to let them be. There are many people with magical talent who can be nuisances in the Order, so we let them practise some minor magic and perhaps they can even be of some service to the city. The Council generally keeps an eye on them, but it sounds like they have been getting lax if Balthazar has been freely running around causing mischief. I’ll send them a reminder.’
Samuel nodded. ‘Very well. I suppose all’s well then. I felt a little sorry for Balthazar. I’m sure he only wants to improve things, as he says. It’s unfortunate that he’s a madman.’
‘There are many people with good intentions in the world, Samuel,’ Master Glim explained, ‘but the intent does not always justify the method. You could have been seriously hurt.’
Samuel nodded. ‘Well, thank you for talking to them. I think I’ll just rest for the rest of the day until that vile poison gets out of my system.’
‘Good,’ Master Glim responded. ‘Rest well.’ At that, the man left Samuel to nurse his swollen ankle.
Most lessons with the new Masters were conducted outside by the school walls instead of within the classrooms. The walls could withstand any magical or physical punishment that the students could throw at them, and, with all the new apprentices arriving, they were running short of space. They had learned many new and useful spells, such as flinging large stones as missiles, and creating magical shields to stop incoming arrows and they practised like that, day after day. Samuel was quite intrigued at first, but soon grew bored, as he could already manage most of what they were being taught. Some of the new teachers were intrigued by the fact that Samuel’s magical aura was undetectable and they tried to have him demonstrate his best spells, but after Samuel let them see a few half-hearted efforts, they soon assumed he had little to show them and left him alone.
There were many minor injuries amongst the new apprentices, mostly physical injuries involving awry spells, and many apprentices had already left after the first month, unable to keep up with demands.
Dividian was adamant that this was acceptable, as he only wanted the most successful students to stay. For every failed apprentice who left, another two came to try their luck. Any man or boy with any hint of magical skill was brought back to the school to see what could be made of him. Cots in the dormitories were doubled and when the new buildings were finished, students began moving into those.
Some of the Adept were eating their meals, sitting at the downstairs level of their bunkhouse, while others were still over the stove, frying up their dinners.
‘Do you really think they want to make an army of magicians?’ Chadly asked, calling over from his sizzling pan.
‘Not an army of magicians,’ Goodfellow corrected. ‘They want magicians accompanying regular infantry-as guides, advisors, tacticians and that kind of thing.’
‘Some people are talking of an invasion,’ Lan Farlan said. ‘I’ve heard all the Masters in the far north have been recalled to Cintar to give reports. Perhaps they think Garteny is preparing to invade?’
Samuel was about to comment when Henry Kassin came rushing in. His face was wild and glazed with perspiration.
‘Samuel! It’s Eric!’ Henry panted between breaths. He bent over, labouring for air. Everyone dropped their books and meals and rushed to his side.
‘What is it?’ Samuel asked. There was obviously something wrong for the boy to be so agitated.
‘I went to find him in the Great Hall,’ Henry continued. ‘He’d gone there to practise a spell he had been working on. Just as I walked in…’
‘Go on,’ Samuel urged.
‘He disappeared!’ Henry gasped. ‘He’s gone,’ he panted, short of breath.
‘Gone? What do you mean, gone? Where?’ Samuel asked, growing frustrated. He grasped the other boy and drew him up straight, trying to get some sort of sense out of him.
‘Where is he?’ others repeated behind.
‘I don’t know,’ Henry said, shaking his head and almost in tears. ‘It’s something he’s been working on for quite a while with Master Dividian. Eric said he nearly had it finished. Then, the whole hall moved and…and then…when everything was normal again…Eric was gone.’
‘Eric disappeared? Vanished, you mean?’ Goodfellow asked.
‘Maybe it’s an illusion?’ Lan offered. ‘A trick, perhaps?’
‘No,’ Henry said determinedly, tears streaming. ‘I saw him. He turned to look at me and his face went all awful. It went all long and twisted and then he tried to yell, but he just vanished.’
Samuel released the other boy’s shoulders and turned to face the others. ‘Let’s go!’ he said and they rushed out into the night.
By the time they reached the Great Hall, many Masters had already arrived. Samuel strode down the aisle at speed, with his eyes fixed on the luminous remnants of an ominous spell hovering in the middle of the chamber. It was a formation of weaves like nothing he had ever seen before: vast in its complexity and incredibly powerful. Its presence hung ominously in the air as it slowly revolved, growling in his ears with thunderous intensity.
The Masters were standing around it, gawking and arguing over the thing, pouring all manner of spells over the room, trying to ascertain what had happened.
‘What happened here, Samuel?’ Master Kalbak asked as Samuel arrived beside him. ‘Who cast this spell?’
‘Eric Pot did, Master,’ Samuel replied. ‘And he has vanished.’
‘Vanished!’ Kalbak echoed with astonishment and the Masters all began talking excitedly. ‘This is incredible!’
‘Where has he gone, Master Kalbak?’ Lan asked from beside Samuel. ‘Can we bring him back?’
‘Oh, goodness knows!’ the old Master said, rubbing his chin. ‘I have never felt such a spell. He could be anywhere-or nowhere.’
‘How could young Eric have created a Great Spell such as this?’ Master Sveld asked from across the chamber.
‘We don’t know, Master,’ Samuel replied.
‘Fascinating!’ old Master Balium croaked, holding his hands aloft as he examined the spell. ‘What a marvel!’
‘In the days of the Ancients, people could move their bodies over vast distances,’ Master Kalbak said. ‘It’s possible he is, indeed, safe somewhere, or perhaps he will appear again here shortly.’
‘Get away from that thing! All of you!’ came a cry from behind them as Master Dividian came hurrying in through the doors. ‘By the old gods, what is that?’ he gasped as he met the cluster of magicians.
‘Eric Pot has vanished, Master Dividian,’ Master Sveld informed the withered old principal. ‘It seems he somehow managed to create a travelling spell and has disappeared within it.’
‘What an astounding thing!’ Dividian said ope
n-mouthed as he gawked up at the spell.
The air within the great revolving spell seemed to pulse, almost like a heartbeat. Coloured clouds of pink, purple and blue magic swirled slowly around, formed from shattered shreds of weaves, and tiny flashes of light occasionally sparked between them. Samuel was not sure what exactly the others could see, but the feeling of the spell was incredible enough, as if some part of the pattern had, indeed, been broken or torn asunder. The spell made a sound in his ears like a mammoth slab of stone being dragged across another.
‘Can you replicate the spell, Master Jacobs? Is the remnant sufficient?’ Dividian asked and the new Master, quietly examining the spell, shook his head.
‘Not at all! It’s far too complex and all we have here are the shattered remains. I can’t imagine how the boy managed to cast such a thing.’
‘It’s a shame,’ Dividian said with genuine disappointment. ‘He was showing so much promise. I was sure he’d have the spell mastered soon enough. He should never have been allowed to practise on his own,’ he added with a sigh.
‘What about Eric?’ Lan asked. ‘Can we get him back?’
‘Oh, I doubt it,’ Master Jacobs mused. ‘It looks as dangerous as hell. I wouldn’t like to step any closer as it is. I think we should dispel the thing as quickly as possible.’
‘Master Dividian! We must do something! Eric may still be alive. We must try to bring him back,’ Samuel urged.
‘Heavens, no,’ Dividian stated adamantly. ‘This thing is dangerous enough already. We can’t risk trying to meddle with it. We must dispel it at once before it causes any more trouble. The boy made a fatal mistake,’ he added with a wave of his hand.
‘What! How can you say that! Master Kalbak said he could have travelled somewhere, or he may even return any moment.’
‘If the spell was well formed, it would be plausible, but this is just a mess.’ He shook his head. ‘What a terrible loss. I’m sure the boy is good and dead. Master Jacobs, can you proceed?’
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