The Young Magician tlt-1

by Michael Foster

Jacobs nodded. ‘It’s quite unstable…but I think I know where to start. Yes, yes…I can do it.’

  ‘Then go on, quickly.’

  ‘Wait!’ Samuel called out. ‘Give him some time! If we dispel it, he may never be able to return. Master Kalbak!’

  Old Master Kalbak looked to Dividian and shrugged. ‘I’m only postulating, Samuel. I really don’t know what could have happened to him.’

  ‘But it’s possible! We can’t close it. He could be left anywhere.’

  ‘We cannot leave it here, Samuel. It’s a risk to us all,’ Dividian stated. ‘Master Jacobs, proceed.’

  ‘No!’ Samuel shouted out. ‘You can’t kill him!’

  ‘Quieten down, boy!’ Dividian snapped. ‘Let the Master do his work or get out!’

  Master Jacobs had already started to spell, reaching his power out tentatively towards the shreds of Eric’s baleful Great Spell. Samuel, without thought, threw out a stream of magic that knocked Master Jacobs’ spell to tatters, leaving the robed magician gape-mouthed with surprise.

  ‘Samuel!’ Dividian roared out. ‘How dare you!’

  ‘I won’t let you do it!’ Samuel declared. ‘You must give him more time!’

  Dividian raised a bony finger. ‘Don’t you dare speak back to me, Boy! How dare you interfere!’

  ‘I won’t let you kill him!’ Samuel retorted.

  ‘Get out!’ Dividian shouted out, almost screaming. His face had flushed red and he was shaking with anger. ‘Get out of here at once! I won’t tell you again. Master Jacobs, continue!’

  Samuel stood defiantly with his fists knotted at his sides, while the other Masters and Adept watched on sheepishly. Master Jacobs began his spell again and again Samuel obliterated his magic before it could begin its work. Dividian’s eyes opened wide with disbelief and, raising a pointed finger, he sent a mad spell dashing at Samuel, who brushed it aside and pulled it apart in an instant. Master Dividian was left trembling and shaking.

  ‘Don’t try your feeble spells on me!’ Samuel declared, pointing his finger back at Dividian. ‘I could pull you to pieces just as easily!’

  ‘Samuel!’ sounded a shout as Master Glim and Goodfellow came rushing in. ‘Stop that at once!’ Master Glim came to stand beside Dividian, looking for just a moment at the great swirling spell above.

  ‘Is this what you and Anthem have taught your students, Master Glim?’ Dividian asked. ‘What monstrous youths you have created, that they attack their elders so wantonly.’

  ‘I apologise, Master Dividian. Samuel, go out now,’ he added, looking at Samuel with all seriousness.

  Samuel could not believe his ears. ‘You want me to leave? Master Dividian knew that Eric was working on this spell. He knows something about it.’

  ‘Nonsense,’ Dividian retorted.

  ‘Yes, Samuel,’ Master Glim agreed. ‘Go out now before you make things any worse. I will take care of this.’

  ‘But they are trying to dispel Eric’s magic. If they do, he may never be able to return. They’ll kill him!’

  ‘Don’t worry, Samuel. I will take care of it,’ Master Glim explained. ‘There’s nothing you can do here. Not now.’

  Samuel looked to each of their faces. Master Dividian was still red-faced and furious while Master Glim looked calm and sober.

  ‘Very well,’ Samuel conceded and started away. He only hoped Master Glim knew what he was doing, for Eric’s life was at stake. As he walked along the aisle, Master Dividian began arguing with Master Glim at full volume, with Master Glim speaking calmly and quietly each time Dividian paused to take a breath. Before he had even reached the doors, Samuel could feel Master Jacobs’ spell already at work, progressively dismantling the remnants of the Great Spell of Travelling.

  Samuel was summoned to the Council chambers the next day. The spell had been dismantled and along with it went Eric’s chances of returning. The laughter in the Adept dormitory had vanished along with Eric, leaving the room sullen and quiet. When Samuel received a summons to go to the palace, he immediately dropped what he was doing, put on his formal black robes and made his way from the school.

  He walked through the city, past the beckoning merchants and stone-faced shopkeepers, past the calling and haggling traders, heedless to their cries, and into the palace grounds. The guards let him pass immediately on sight of his robes, as Eric had always said they would. It was his first time within the walls of the palace, yet he had no stomach to stare at its many wonders. He merely walked on, mourning what had happened and dreading what would come.

  His sandalled feet crunched upon the tiny, loose stones and his heart thudded in his chest. He climbed the many palace steps and the immense palatial doors were opened for him by four staunch guards. A servant met him there, somehow knowing his purpose, and guided him along all the twisting corridors and stairs leading to the thick, ornate doors that marked the Council chambers. He pulled one open and peered inside. The large, round chamber was dim, but he could see a handful of figures across the room watching him. He entered and pulled the heavy door shut once more. He went down the carpeted steps between the bench seats until he was standing before the five waiting men.

  ‘You are Samuel, I presume,’ an aged, balding fellow with flaring nostrils said and Samuel nodded. ‘It is good that you have arrived. I think you know why we have summoned you here. I am High Lord Rimus. These are Lord Hathen, Lord Irshank, Lord Vander and Lord Jarrod.’

  Lord Hathen was a large man with short, black hair and a thick, bushy moustache. Lord Irshank was as wide as a barrel, with thinning hair brushed over from one side, while next to him was Lord Vander. He was the shortest by far, red-cheeked and looking as if he had never laughed in his life. Samuel set his attention on Lord Jarrod. The man had a narrow face, exacerbated by the fact that his long, grey hair was pulled back tightly into a ponytail. His black eyes glinted in the light, staring back at Samuel, somehow without blinking at all.

  ‘It seems you have been acting out of place on occasion and being generally disruptive,’ Rimus continued. ‘Also, we have been told that you used your magic in a threatening manner against your fellow students. Yesterday, we understand that you openly used magic against a senior member of the Order-one of your very own teachers, or so I understand, and then you threatened none other than our good Master Dividian with violence. Obviously, this is intolerable. We can’t have this kind of thing going on in the School of Magic or anywhere, for that matter. Therefore, we have called you here to determine what should be done with you. Firstly, I want to ask you: are you sure you are faithful to the Order of Magicians?’

  ‘I am,’ Samuel immediately responded.

  ‘And to the Emperor and the Empire of Turia?’

  ‘I am,’ Samuel stated again.

  Samuel could feel a cage of weaves creeping into place around him, like a spider tiptoeing out to encase its prey. They were creating a shield in which to hold his power. It was very strong and Samuel was not sure if he could breach it once it was fully in place. They had heard how easily he had shattered Master Jacobs’ spells. Dividian had told them everything and they were not taking any chances. He waited nervously in the silence, feeling their magical casing sliding into place as they peered down at him. Other spells swept across him-testing him, probing him.

  ‘So you say,’ High Lord Rimus said, ‘but your actions dictate otherwise. If you were truly dedicated to the Order and the Empire, you would not be such a young upstart and we would not be receiving all these dire reports about you. You come from somewhere in Marlen, I understand. I’m sure I don’t need to remind you how fortunate it is for an Outlander such as you to even be allowed a chance to join the Order and how precarious your situation is.’

  All the while, Lord Jarrod continued to gaze at Samuel. The man did not move a muscle-like a snake watching its prey and readying to strike.

  ‘If I may beg to speak, my Lords?’ Samuel asked.

  ‘Very well, you may,’ Rimus said generously.

  ‘You
must have heard about Eric Pot’s disappearance?’

  ‘And you think that is some form of excuse?’ Rimus returned. ‘Do you think you were actually helping the situation-that you know better than all the Masters who have taught you? Is that to be your defence?’

  ‘Of course not,’ Samuel defended. ‘I apologise for my unruly behaviour. There have been so many changes in the school recently and it is difficult for some of us all to come to terms with everything.’

  ‘Is that so?’ Rimus said suspiciously. ‘Explain.’

  ‘Well, we have very little free time now and every day we practise for many hours. The new spells we are learning are very difficult and sometimes dangerous.’

  ‘But I don’t see any of the others assaulting their teachers,’ Rimus stated. ‘Why is it that only you cannot seem to cope?’

  ‘I don’t know, High Lord Rimus.’

  ‘Then perhaps enlighten me with what you believe should be done differently.’

  Samuel was sure all this questioning was a facade, for he could still feel various spells delicately manoeuvring around him. All they wanted was a chance to observe him-as if they were poking a dangerous creature with a stick to see if it was dead or merely sleeping. Their efforts slipped through him as if he did not exist and it was difficult for Samuel to keep the satisfaction from his lips, even as uncomfortable as he felt beneath their critical gazes.

  ‘Perhaps we could go back to the way things were. All the students liked Grand Master Anthem and now he is gone and we are working so hard, some of us are finding it very difficult.’

  The men were stone-faced for long moments before responding.

  ‘We will consider the matter. Leave it in our hands,’ Rimus stated. ‘You may go.’

  They had withdrawn their spells, but were obviously not going to dare even whispering with Samuel still in the room.

  ‘Is that all?’ Samuel asked, surprised they were done with him so quickly.

  Rimus scowled and extended his finger towards the exit. ‘Don’t push your luck, boy. Begone.’

  Samuel turned and quietly strode from the chamber. The men did not make a sound as he left.

  As he ventured home and was making his way along Kumbin Street, Samuel nearly bumped straight into someone standing directly in his path.

  ‘Excuse me,’ Samuel said, before noticing with a start that it was the magician from the Circle of Eyes who had visited him twice before in the School of Magic. Samuel was surprised to see the man in the open and in clear daylight.

  ‘You should keep your eyes open, Samuel,’ he said humourlessly. ‘You could find yourself walking straight into the end of a dagger one day.’ Samuel was about to retort, but the man continued, leaning closer and whispering into his ear. ‘Quickly, now. Follow me. Many have already heard of your exploits, and I’m afraid you have caused far too much trouble for Lord Jarrod. He has already arranged for your death and you are in no condition to defend yourself against his men just yet.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ Samuel asked with sudden alarm.

  ‘Very sure. Believe me. I’m one of those he has paid to do it. But you are of no use to me dead, so take that as a guarantee of my honesty, if you like. Keep close to me and don’t attract any attention,’ the magician instructed. ‘I’m not the only one sent to find you, but luckily, I was the first.’ And he began to move away at once through the jostling crowd.

  Samuel would not normally have followed the stranger, but after meeting with the councillors and witnessing Lord Jarrod firsthand, he believed the man capable of anything. Looking over his shoulders, he could sense no other magicians in the street. Not willing to take any chances, however, he started following the dark magician cautiously, keeping note of everywhere he was led. The man drew him along wordlessly though the maze of streets, finally slipping down a small, almost invisible alleyway.

  He stopped before an unmarked doorway that had just a hanging cloth for a door. The magician bent his head and then ducked inside. Samuel stopped a moment and eyed the entrance warily. Taking a deep breath, he pulled the cloth across and followed inside.

  Within, Samuel found himself inside a smoking den. The floor was covered in round carpets and small tables with cushions for seats, and men were smoking from the hoses that sprouted from large, ornate vessels on each table. The air was thick with a pungent, spicy haze. The magician was already sitting at the farthest table by the wall and was talking with a thin servingman. He gestured for Samuel to come over as the servant was hurrying away.

  ‘What is this place?’ Samuel asked, sitting opposite the magician and adjusting his cushion.

  ‘It’s just a smoking house,’ the man replied, ‘but one of the best in Cintar, I must say. Would you like to try?’

  Samuel raised his hands. ‘No, not at all. It stinks like something awful-a bit like crap actually.’

  The magician actually managed a slight smile as he began puffing from one of the curling hoses.

  ‘Plans will have to change, Samuel,’ he said, blowing out billows of smoke with his words. ‘At the moment, you can consider me the only friend you have in this city. You see, a lot was hinging on your good friend Eric Pot’s ability to perfect his spell of travelling. Since the prospect of this unique ability popped up, everyone has been waiting expectantly to see if he could perfect it. That fool, Master Dividian had Jarrod convinced he could guide the boy and finish the spell. Once made, others would soon be able to copy it. A spell like that would be priceless to many people for many different reasons. But Dividian is an idiot. The boy failed and it cost him his life. It will only be a matter of time before the pieces start falling together and someone comes to the realisation that you, dear Samuel, are the next best thing to a spell of travelling. Your Master Glim and Grand Master Anthem also had their sights set on that boy, Eric Pot, and had him nestled under their wings, but it seems Lord Jarrod and Master Dividian out-schemed them both and managed to have the Grand Master ousted. They all assumed it was a spell of travelling that held the answer, but I have always known better.’

  ‘But what do you mean?’ Samuel asked.

  ‘Don’t you understand? You are the one that everyone is looking for, even though you don’t know it. You, my good boy, have the ability to kill the Emperor.’

  ‘Kill the Emperor?’ Samuel asked in disbelief. ‘Why would I do that?’

  ‘It’s not a matter of why, Samuel. Everyone believes it and that’s all that matters. They were looking so hard, that when Dividian discovered young Master Pot’s skills with precursor journey spells, he came ranting and raving and convinced Lord Jarrod that the answer had been found. I believe I’m the only one who yet realises what potential you have. It’s quite funny. The damned black-cloaks never see the obvious. They went looking for deeper answers when you were there all along, staring them right in the face. Although, I do admit the translation could throw almost anyone.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Samuel asked, baffled.

  ‘Oh, forgive me,’ the man replied. ‘I forget you may not have heard. That fool seer, Master Celios, has a terribly annoying habit of making accurate predictions. One day he just spat it out in Old Tongue in the Emperor’s Court: Elem edundate, summa mardum il tuvum munummani quam, il varnate odum no commen ra.’

  ‘Fear him, the traveller who kills the king that cannot be killed, the magician that cannot be found,’ Samuel translated out loud.

  ‘That’s one version, Samuel, and the one that set all the old fools on an old fools’ errand. This particular dialect is from a very old branch of the Old Tongue, and I have invested considerable effort into translating it myself. If they had used less ornate wording, as all you black-cloaks are fond to do, and used a bit more common sense, they would have come to a more meaningful result: “Beware the killer of the immortal king, the magician that cannot be seen” is a more fitting translation by my reckoning. Everyone was quick to assume the most obvious, as it validated the discovery of young Eric Pot’s travelling spell, but they f
ailed to consider a much simpler answer: a magician who appeared a few months later, who failed to give off any magical emanation at all. You were passed off as just a nuisance and a curiosity, Samuel, but you’re much more than that and all those fools looked right past you.’

  Samuel was full of disbelief. ‘You think I am the one that Master Celios was speaking of?’

  ‘I do. And I believe Jarrod has just now come to the same conclusion and others will, too, if they have not already. All have been willing to play the waiting game, intent on snatching up the spoils, but now that the first assumption has gone sour, everyone will be eager to steal you away-hence the order for your death. You are too dangerous to be left alive, Samuel. The Turians don’t want their Emperor killed-they want power and you are now a threat to all of that. What cannot be controlled, must be destroyed. That is the creed of the covetous.’

  Samuel finally realised something that should have been obvious long ago. ‘So it was Jarrod and Dividian I heard plotting in my dreams.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ the other asked with interest.

  ‘Sometimes, I hear pieces of conversations in my head, but mostly it is just intelligible nonsense. The same two voices kept coming back to me, but I never realised who they were until now.’ Then another point grabbed his attention. ‘But if you work for Lord Jarrod, why are you helping me?’

  ‘I do not work for them, boy. We exchange favours for mutual benefit. At least, that is what I let them believe. To let them think I am in their employ is to my advantage. Let’s leave it at that.’

  ‘So what do you think I should do?’

  ‘You cannot stay in Cintar. It is far too dangerous and no matter how well you hide, they will eventually find you. If you stay here, you will be dead within a few days at the very most-of that I am sure.’

  ‘Surely they can’t just have me murdered! There would be some form of investigation.’

  The magician sniggered a moment. ‘You are so naive, Samuel. They can make your death seem any way they wish. Or you could just disappear altogether. You wouldn’t be the first and I’m sure you won’t be the last. It’s unfortunate this situation has arisen. I can’t take care of you as I am far too busy and neither can I interfere with Jarrod, as he is an unfortunate necessity at the moment. Anthem is the only one who could protect you now, but Jarrod has managed to remove him from the picture for the time being.’ He puffed a stream of smoke up towards the hazed ceiling. ‘Your only chance is to leave Cintar altogether.’