The Gift of Magic (The Shadowmage Saga)

by Paul Sobol

  “You have no right! The First cannot interfere, it is against the Law!” Khaldun retreated a few steps, even though there was nowhere to escape to. He was trapped and powerless to stop what was about to happen.

  The scythe of the Demon Lord twirled several times in Alex’s hand, and with each revolution it glowed brighter and brighter with white-blue energies. Soon the entire weapon was nothing more than a brilliant spinning blur, and with a deft motion Alex planted the scythe’s haft into the ground. In the space between heartbeats the summoned energy surged outward in a spiralling vortex.

  The necromancer disappeared.

  In his last moment, Khaldun mouthed a silent curse, vowing to return. When his time came, his revenge upon the world would be all the sweeter.

  Silence and darkness filled the night as the last ebbs of mystical energy dissipated. With the dark magician no longer present the wicked blade buried in Alex’s shoulder disappeared too, but not before inflicting lethal physical and magical damage to his body. Weakened, Alex sank to his knees, barely supported by the huge scythe grasped feebly in his hands. The pain radiating from his shoulder wound was taking its toll, and within moments could no longer hold onto consciousness.

  As his eyes finally closed the white glow dimmed to be replaced with his natural light blue hue. The scythe, lying alongside his still form, dissolved in a shower of sparkling energy.

  The pinpoint of consciousness that was Alex floated on a sea of brilliant white light. There was no point of reference because there was no horizon. No up or down, no left or right. The white light surrounding him seemed eternal, and yet at the same time offered a measure of comfort, like a warm blanket. In fact, Alex began to remember a similar experience, not that long ago.

  Recognition dawned upon him, and ‘looking’ down wondered what had happened to his body. Of course, surrounded by nothing except white light it was impossible to tell which way he was looking, but Alex had the sneaking suspicion he had no eyes to even see with.

  Thoughts, dispossessed of a physical brain, flowed around the point of consciousness that identified itself as Alex. Like noisome flies the thoughts appeared like a cloud, and as they coalesced his thoughts took shape. His brain appeared first, ugly shades of pink and grey. From somewhere inside this soft mass slithered a spinal cord draped in fibrous nerves. Within moments a complete circulatory system was formed.

  For the first time in his existence, Alex wished he had paid more attention during biology class. Re-creating his own body was harder than it seemed. The growing process continued slowly as bones appeared, followed by internal organs which were then covered with muscle tissue. Skin finally appeared, and from the smooth brown casing sprouted tufts of hair. Looking more like a Salvador Dali caricature, Alex concentrated harder until the body reshaped itself to closely resemble his proper human form.

  Doing his best impression of a master artist, Alex’s consciousness floated back as though to admire his handiwork from a better angle. Hmm, I thought I had a larger package than that.

  A quick readjustment and everything seemed perfect.

  Now, how do I get in?

  No sooner had this thought formed when a silver thread of energy emerged from his construct’s forehead. The thread unerringly shot forward and took hold of Alex’s consciousness, and just as fast retreated, dragging its ‘catch’ behind. In a flash, Alex was now inside his own body, and opening his eyes quickly regretted doing so. The white light was so intense, so absolute, that it left him blind.

  Sighing in frustration, Alex regrew his eyes, and as an afterthought included a pair of stylish sunglasses. As much as he enjoyed the freedom of floating naked he decided to finish the look with his customary black jeans, t-shirt, combat-boots and, despite no warmth or coldness in this white place, a long black coat.

  Seeing as how his thoughts manifested into reality, Alex concentrated on changing his surroundings. First, create some perspective. A small black dot appeared somewhere in front of him, expanding infinitely to either side to become a thin line, distinguishing up and down. Now that he had a horizon, he needed something to stand on. The designated ‘down’ space changed to an earthy brown colour, but being uniform in shade didn’t manage to impart the feeling of being a three-dimensional surface.

  As though made of water, the brown horizon undulated to form mountains. The white ‘up’ burst into sky blue flame, and as the fire subsided it let out small belches of white smoke which became clouds. Turning around, Alex surveyed the new world he had created. It was pretty good, but far from complete.

  Let there be Light.

  An orange sun exploded into existence far above his world, momentarily blinding him yet again. The blue sky lightened to the right colour, and shadows chased lazily floating clouds. Small trees and shrubs poked their way through the brown soil, and within minutes grew to towering heights; higher than any building created by humankind. A dense forest surrounded him, replete with singing birds and small insects that flittered through shafts of light that had managed to reach this far beneath the vast canopy of the forest roof. Tree roots the width of small cars snaked in every direction to form a huge network of miniature cliffs and crevices.

  Marvelling at the beauty of the forest Alex was caught off guard when several people walked out from behind one of the large trees. They appeared to be human but without any noticeable flaw, as if a master sculptor had created them using the purest alabaster and young Grecian Gods as template. Dressed in flowing white robes, adorned with intricately woven circlets of spun gold, the procession slowly made its way unhurried through the forest.

  A moment of unease gripped Alex, he didn’t recall creating these beautiful people. Maybe it was his subconscious wanting to add a few personal touches? Hoping he hadn’t succumbed to madness, Alex couldn’t help but feel apprehension at this unexpected visitation.

  The surrounding forest seemed to darken slightly, except where the young people walked. It seemed they were perpetually bathed in a halo of sunshine, with butterflies randomly bobbing around as though to herald their coming. Alex thought he even heard music playing softly, barely audible and just beyond his comprehension. Like a siren song, filled with love and joy, it pierced his soul.

  A young woman led the procession which stopped several paces away. Bowing her head in simple greeting she introduced herself in perfect English. “Welcome. I am Nya, and we are the First.”

  Stunningly beautiful hardly did the young woman justice. Her long hair fell down her back like a golden waterfall. Vibrant blue eyes, bordering on violet, were placed above a perfectly sculpted nose. Her lips a shade of pink impossible to replicate with cosmetics, and when she smiled the world seemed so much brighter.

  “I’m Alex. Have we met before?” At least he hoped that’s what came out. Smitten, Alex was amazed his tongue was still functional and not dragging on the ground.

  “We have, but not as you see me now.” Nya replied, her voice gentle, almost musical. “Our first encounter was rather abrupt, you won’t remember it, but that’s probably a good thing at the moment.”

  “Not wanting to be rude, but who are you?”

  “I am one of the First, and this is our world.”

  Alex looked around at the forest. “No,” Nya said with a slight smile, “Ours is the world of light. We have no need for a physical environment such as this, as we exist only as pure energy.”

  “Angels?”

  “Not quite.” Nya paused to think about how to respond to his question. “A long time ago, my people experienced a period of advancement – physical, technological, and eventually spiritual. We reached a point where we no longer needed to exist as corporeal beings, and one day we universally agreed to move on. Some call it ascension, or enlightenment, but it all came down to one thing – a transition from limited potential to infinite possibilities.”

  “So, do you interact with us lower life-forms often, or am an exception?”

  “You are…unique. You possess great potential,
and had I not interfered, I fear something terrible would have eventuated.”

  “You’re not all-powerful and all-knowing?”

  Nya smiled. “Definitely not. It may appear as though we’re omnipotent and omniscient, but the truth is we’ve just been around a lot longer than other races. We’ve picked up a few things that make us quite formidable. And because of that we have Laws to adhere to.”

  “Like non-involvement with lower races? I think there was something similar on Star Trek. It’s a TV show where I come from.” He pre-empted before she could ask, although as a higher being there was a chance she might know.

  “Yes, something like that.” She glanced behind at her companions. “Let us walk a little.”

  Entwining her arm around his, the two moved off in a random direction. The forest, at first glance a mass of tangled vines, overgrown tree root mazes and ever-shifting shadows, was remarkably easy to move through. Alex suspected his companion had something to do with the reordering of his first attempt at creation, but as they moved between moss-covered tree boles the width of small cars he couldn’t help but be impressed.

  Following a natural path that hadn’t existed, the two walked in silence. A little apprehensive, Alex hoped he wouldn’t break out in sweats. It wasn’t every day you took an intimate stroll through the forest with an enlightened being, but what’s with the privacy? What did she want to say that couldn’t be said in front of the others?

  Glancing behind, making sure no one was watching, Nya leaned in closer and gave Alex a small kiss on the cheek. As he looked deeply into her eyes he realised it was not the passionate kiss of a lover, but more like a kiss from a sibling, or a mother. He couldn’t help but feel slightly embarrassed, and as he made to move on she stopped him with a light touch on his chest. “There are things you should know, things you need to know, but unfortunately I cannot reveal what they are.”

  “Maybe some Laws are meant to be broken.”

  “Not this one. I have already jeopardised everything, merely by getting involved with something I shouldn’t have. The others don’t approve, but at least they aren’t going to do anything about it. However, I am walking a knife’s edge, and one misstep could see all my efforts go to waste.

  “I cannot see the future, but I sense something terrible is coming. I can’t reveal its nature, but it is tied to your fate. Be patient, and wait. The truth will reveal itself in time, and I will be by your side every moment of this wondrous journey.”

  “You seem so familiar. I know it’s impossible, but it’s like I’ve known you my entire life. Are you going to send me back soon?”

  “Yes, but before you leave, I would like to spend some more time with you. Come, sit here in this glade.” Alex wasn’t surprised to see the forest had changed again. This time they were surrounded by large trees whose drooping foliage curtained off an isolated area beside a small burbling brook. Gentle sunlight bathed the grassy clearing, and Alex could see silver-winged butterflies flitter around colourful wildflowers.

  Reclining amidst the grass and flowers, Alex felt entirely too comfortable. Nya sat and cradled his head upon her lap, gently stroking his hair. Humming a nameless tune, she watched as, slowly, his eyes closed. His body may be different, but his soul was still unmistakable. It shone with a vibrancy and vitality that even now was fighting hard to cling to life.

  Touching his shoulder the fabric dissolved beneath her fingertips, revealing an angry red scar. Already the disease was spreading as black tendrils of corruption sprouted from the wound like tree roots. Eventually it would consume him, body and soul, and once that happened he would turn into an abomination - a living plague that would be unstoppable.

  And then there was the rift.

  Fighting back tears, Nya tried not to think about the rift. For now it was closed and under control, but when, not if, Alex died from the disease, she would be unable to stop it from reopening. If that occurred, the devastation could be unimaginable. Hell on Earth. The humans and lesser races would have no chance. The combined might of magicians might stem the flood initially, but they would be eventually overwhelmed.

  It was all her fault, but she did not regret her decision to save the young man now sleeping in her lap. He was the only one who could correct her mistakes, and that all hinged upon his survival.

  The Law forbade further interference from the higher plane, which meant she could not use her own powers, but Nya knew the Laws were not entirely black and white. There was however, a shade of grey that many of her kind tried to ignore, because where the grey finished and the black started was hard to distinguish. Therefore it was easy to go too far and cross that line, and at the moment she couldn’t afford another transgression.

  Placing a hand over Alex’s wound, Nya drew upon the mana from his world. The energy from the lower plane, while not as effective as hers, would still be of some benefit. She could not remove the disease entirely but at least the spreading infection would be slowed, hopefully giving his companions time to find a cure.

  Sighing, as though deciding upon the answer to some difficult internal decision, she said. “A gift to you, my son, become who you are meant to be.”

  Brushing back his hair she kissed his forehead. A white symbol of magic glowed where her lips had touched, and soon it was replaced by another. As time passed more of the mystical symbols briefly flashed upon his brow, and within Alex’s mind there appeared a single vast complex spell. Its purpose he couldn’t fathom, but watching the spell form and grow he had the distinct impression it was something he needed to learn.

  Looking up into the forest’s canopy, Nya whistled a melodic series of notes, and within moments a small bird fluttered out of the trees to rest on her hand. Whispering a few words to the brightly coloured avian, Nya let it fly off to disappear amidst the forest’ greenery. Now it was only a matter of time.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “He’s not dead.”

  The voice sounded muffled and from a great distance. A small amount of colour appeared as Alex’s vision adjusted to the light. He could now hear more voices but they were indistinct, and becoming increasingly aware of his surroundings Alex finally acknowledged the searing pain in his shoulder. The fact that he was lying on hard ground and barely able to move seemed almost like an afterthought, as though the wound were more important.

  Memory of the last few minutes was hazy, like waking from a dream that was getting harder to remember. A hand was on his shoulder, and he had an intense feeling of de ja vu – as though this had already happened before. Someone nearby was speaking softly, and he recognised it as a healing spell. Alex hoped it was for him, as the searing pain in his shoulder hardly seemed to change, but as the spell took full effect the pain did lessened a little. Alex heard the caster curse.

  That can’t be good.

  Those huddled around Alex joined hands and completed the link. White light bathed him as powerful magic was called upon, but still the pain persisted in his shoulder, and under the glow of healing energy Alex made out an angry red scar where the black dagger had pierced him. Under closer inspection he could see thin black tendrils radiating from the wound as if an infection was deeply embedded and slowly spreading. Although he was no longer bleeding he almost felt as though some part of him were draining.

  The light slowly dimmed and then vanished. Those in the clearing shared disappointed looks, most turned to go, as though nothing more could be done. With the clean-up complete the surviving magicians left to remove any trace of the Gathering. Archer, Silver, and a few more of the Order remained with Alex, making plans to transport him back to headquarters.

  Back in his own bed, Alex was made as comfortable as possible while others were sent to locate an experienced Healer. An hour later there appeared a short man beside the bed, dressed in a white cassock that was embroidered at the sleeves and hem in arcane symbols. He carried with him a small bag which clinked as though filled with glass bottles, and even closed those in the room could smell the bags conte
nts of pungent herbs.

  Lying in bed with his shirt off, the ugly red wound throbbed with pain and felt like it was getting worse. The black tendrils had reached down his arm as well as slowly moving towards his chest. The Healer, who introduced himself as Father Antonio Benedict, poked and prodded the wound with a thin silver knife. As time crept on he would occasionally stop, stand up, and adjust a pair of glasses perched precariously on the end of his large nose.

  Reaching into his bag, Father Benedict took out several jars of various coloured powders as well as small crystals which he placed on Alex’s chest. Next he carefully sprinkled lines of white and green powders connecting the crystals, and in a monotonous tone began a lengthy and complex incantation.

  From what Alex had read of Healers they often drew their energy from a strong belief in a Higher Power, whether or not it happened to be true was irrelevant. Magicians would argue that Healers still used mana drawn from the environment, but instead chose to believe that it came as a gift from above.

  Of course, Healers strongly denied this; firmly believing their power to cure is granted through prayer and strict devotion to their deity. At this point however, Alex cared little for theological debate and prayed the Healer would be successful.

  As Father Benedict’s sonorous voice reached a kind of crescendo the powders and crystals turned black. A faint waft of something burning exuded from the red wound and those in the room saw Alex turn even whiter. Trying not to cry out Alex was only just able to bear the redoubled pain in his shoulder, but from the sweat that suddenly drenched his body everyone knew it was a struggle.

  “While I appreciate the effort Father,” said Alex through gritted teeth, “please don’t do that again.”

  Muttering to himself Father Benedict waved his hands in a ritualistic fashion over the dagger wound. Alex didn’t know if he was performing some special kind of healing magic, or simply waving his hands to disperse the wisps of foul black smoke coming from his wounded shoulder.