The Gift of Magic (The Shadowmage Saga)

by Paul Sobol

  Having made their farewells, Silver and his companions promptly left the keep and made their way to the mist-bridge. The Oracle remained in the tower room and silently sent a message for several of the Sisters to join her. Entering the room in ones and twos a dozen women joined the Head of their order. The gathered Sisters ranged in age from the youngest maiden to the most ancient, but the one thing they all had in common was their high level of power.

  “Time is of the essence, and this one has very little left.” The Oracle motioned towards Alex, unconscious on the bed. Without saying more she turned towards the bed and lifted her arms. Her sleeves fell down to uncover a complex series of blue and silver tattoos twining around her wrinkled forearms, and as she began chanting the mystical patterns began to glow with pure energy. The Sisters behind her followed suit, adding their voice and power to the spell being fashioned. Slowly a silver nimbus of energy formed around the still form on the bed, and Alex’s laboured breathing seemed almost to stop, however, looking closer his chest continued to rise and fall but at a much slower pace.

  Satisfied with the stasis spell the Oracle and Sisters filed out of the room. With nothing else they could do the young man’s Fate rested on the shoulders of his companions.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Striding purposefully across the mist-bridge the Isle of Avalon quickly disappeared in the mist behind the small group. Powerful wards prevented them from teleporting off the Isle so they had to travel by foot until outside the affected area. Once standing on the beach the four magicians quickly conferred on the quickest way to their destination. “The Temple of Air lies somewhere in the heights of Nepal, hidden on a peak in the Himalayan ranges. To get there we should make our way to Kathmandu, I know someone there who might be able to take us to the Temple.” Silver said. “Does anyone have access to a teleportation site closer than Beijing? I guess it will have to do.”

  Joining hands the four vanished in a flash of magical energy. Thousands of miles away, in a dark and dusty room, a shimmering field appeared and grew larger, and in a shower of sparkling energy four people materialized.

  “Not what I expected of you Silver,” coughed Winter, who moved to the nearest window and tried opening shutters that most likely hadn’t been used for years.

  “It was once a safe house, used by the Order a long time ago,” he replied but did not elaborate further. He didn’t have to. Archer and Winter both knew he was the only original remaining Order member, and reminding him of the past would only make things worse. Archer even went so far as to say a quick silent prayer to the brave knights who had fallen during countless wars fought against the Dark, the most recently in the Occult Wars of World War II.

  Light flooded the room as one stubborn shutter relented and they could now make out the dimensions of the room. It was not as small as originally believed but felt cluttered with plenty of chairs and tables covered in white sheets. With a wave of her hand Winter sent a small gust of wind around the room which collected most of the dust into a ball which she tossed out the open window.

  Silver closed his eyes for a moment in concentration, and a moment later he confirmed a taxi was nearby a few streets away. The four went down several flights of rickety old stairs that had seen better days. The hot, humid air of a Beijing Summer hit them immediately as they left the dilapidated apartment building, and before taking several steps were already beginning to sweat.

  With a wave of her hand Winter created a surrounding area of cool, clean air. The pollution in the city was atrocious, with visibility limited to several meters in any direction, but no longer hindered by the haze of smog the group quickly made their way to the waiting taxi.

  Turning around a corner they were met with a small rusted black and red taxi driven by an old Chinese man in dire need of proper dental hygiene. His straggly beard and thinning hair was beginning to turn white, but his eyes shone with a youthful glint and he greeted them with a smile and several polite words.

  Even before the last door was closed the taxi sped off down a garbage-cluttered street and made its way towards the airport. Soon they were past the poor quarter of Beijing and into a more prosperous area filled with taller buildings and wider streets. They quickly passed other motorists who for some unknown reason felt a strong urge to move into one lane and out of the way of the rusted red taxi, and like the wake behind a boat the other cars moved back to their original lane as if nothing had changed.

  The group made good time getting to the airport and with relative ease they were boarded onto the soonest available flight to Kathmandu. Unfortunately the plane wasn’t the best in the fleet and for several hours Winter did her best to keep the turbulence from potentially ripping the wings off. By the time they landed on the tarmac and taxiing to the small building which served as a terminal Winter was exhausted and drained of a lot of power. The others had helped when they could but travelling that high made drawing on mana from the earth difficult. It was always prudent to save mana especially thousands of feet in the air when it could be needed for an emergency.

  The climate was warmer than expected, seeing how they were almost five thousand feet above sea level and surrounded by white-capped mountains. The Himalayas were a remarkable sight in the background and gave everyone hope for reaching the Temple of Air soon.

  Quickly passing through Customs the four soon found themselves amidst the bustle of Nepal’s capital, and having commandeered another taxi they eventually arrived at a run-down hotel on the outskirts of the Old City. Huge stone buildings resembling Buddhist and Hindu temples lined the streets which made the hotel seem quite out of place.

  Archer, Winter and Father Benedict looked expectantly at Silver, silently questioning whether this was the actual place they could meet someone to guide them to the Temple. Without hesitation Silver stepped through the double doors of the hotel, and not bothering to enquire at the reception desk made his way unerringly to the bar.

  The hotel’s interior reflected the shabbiness of its exterior which didn’t seem to faze any of the three companions; they trusted Silver and would follow him anywhere. The room was dimly lit from small lamps hanging above the bar as well as on each table. In the corner several lounge chairs were arranged near an open fireplace, but due to today’s clement weather remained unlit.

  Making his way to the bar, Silver quietly conferred with the bartender, who after a while nodded and produced two glasses. He went about filling both from an old bottle whose label was faded and covered lightly in dust. Apparently this particular drink was not commonly imbibed by tourists or locals for that matter, yet Silver did not hesitate in passing over several notes and taking the two half-filled glasses. With a nod of his head he indicated the three should follow him to the corner lounges.

  Silver stopped in front of a high-backed leather chair which had seen better days and placed one of the glasses on the small side table. He then sat in the chair opposite and made himself comfortable and indicated the others should do likewise on a nearby divan.

  “It’s good to see you’re still alive. I have come seeking guidance,” said Silver.

  A withered, shaking hand reached over from the chair and grasped the nearby glass. In one mouthful the contents had been drained and the glass now joined a group of empty glasses on the table. A soft chuckle escaped from the high-backed chair and its occupant now leaned forward into the light.

  Silver sat regarding the old man before him. Age had taken its toll and the man he once considered his father was nothing but a shadow of his former self. A long time ago they were Master and Apprentice, travelling the vastness of Europe and giving aid to the poor who were in desperate need. Magically created plagues had spread from country to country, and only with the aid of hundreds of other magicians was the contamination eventually eliminated. Many thousands had died, most of them innocent mortals, but eventually the scourge of Khaldun was cleansed from the world.

  Despite his deathly pallor the old man’s eyes seemed to glint with renewed
vigour at seeing his old student again. “It is good to see you again Aldèric,” he said in a soft French accent, “I was sorry to hear of your fellow knights, I knew how much they meant to you. They will be missed.”

  “The Order took a terrible blow, but we are not defeated. I have begun recruiting more to the Order, and eventually we will be back to full strength,” Silver paused before continuing. “Athenais, my companions and I need to travel to the Temple of Air and retrieve the Water of Life. It is of the utmost importance, otherwise a great magician will die.”

  “I cannot tell you where the Temple is Aldèric, my memory is not what it used to be, especially after seven hundred years.”

  “Father, you are one of the few magicians who have been there. We must get the Water of Life,” implored Silver, “without it there is no hope. The Oracle has seen this. You must take us there.”

  “I am an old man, what you ask is impossible.”

  “Impossible? You are a magician of the Ninth Order. You stood alone on the battlements of Rheinwaldhorn as an army of goblins and orcs descended upon your position, and you alone defeated them. You also managed to take out half a dozen Dark Mages. There are few magicians who can match you for power and certainly none who come close with experience. You must take us to the Temple.”

  Athenais sat back and considered his old pupil’s words. A journey to the Temple would be arduous, and getting the Water of Life would not be easy either. There were hidden traps and pitfalls to navigate, not to mention the various Dark creatures lurking in the shadows. But, perhaps this was his final moment to shine, one last time. Go out, as they say, in a blaze of glory.

  “I will take you there. It seems we are destined for one last adventure Aldèric. It will be glorious, you and I together again! But we must prepare, the journey will not be easy and I will require a few personal items from my room.” Slowly, and on shaking legs, the ancient magician stood and made to leave.

  Soon the five were gathered in a small room on the second floor of the run down hotel. The room was simply furnished with a bed and wardrobe and small writing table. On the bed was strewn various items; a white cloak made from owls feathers, a small sceptre made from the branch of some unknown tree and studded with glittering gems, a small leather-bound book and a dark blue satin pouch tied with a drawstring.

  Donning the cloak, Athenais placed the book and pouch inside an inner pocket. The sceptre he reverently held disappeared with a flourish.

  “We need to make some necessary preparations for the journey - food and water for several days, as well as special clothing. The journey will not be as simple as walking up to the Temple doors; it will be a tough climb which is why you also need to change into mountain hiking boots. We can get the supplies from a local store nearby. I can then teleport us to the village of Khudi which will place us a day’s trek to the Gurkha Himal ranges. From there it shouldn’t take long to reach Manaslu – Mountain of the Spirit. On that mount we will find the steps leading to the Temple of Air.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  The first thing felt was the cold. A snow flurry blew around the small group who now found themselves knee-deep in the powdery white substance. Looking around they could clearly identify the vast range of mountains that made the Himalayas, but rather than from the comfort of some hotel in Khudi they were witnessing the ranges close up first hand. “Athenais,” began Silver, “where are we?”

  “I’m not too sure,” the old mage replied, “we should have arrived somewhere in the village.”

  “Clearly this is not it. Winter, would you mind?”

  The Water Elementalist closed her eyes and began several quick incantations. A thin line appeared around the group as a shield against the cold was erected and within minutes the snow inside was beginning to melt as the temperature increased.

  “Silver, I’m detecting some strange energy anomalies throughout these mountains,” said Archer, “It’s as if there are ripples distorting the Aether, which could explain why we are not where we expected to be. The vast concentration of mana in these ranges, untapped for millennia, could be responsible. If there is any truth to the old legends then we could be standing near the oldest nexus of power, with the Temple supposedly built to harness this raw mana and prevent it from destabilising the area.”

  “No,” replied Athenais, “the Temple of Air was built to protect a deeper, hidden secret. Beneath lies an older structure, ancient even to our kind, a labyrinth of stone and water leading to a crystal fortress, and in a secret courtyard you will find the Water of Life.”

  “You’ve travelled there before?” asked Father Benedict.

  “Yes, a long time ago in my youth. I went with two other companions, but unfortunately both were lost during the journey.”

  “Well it isn’t getting any closer if we stand here in the snow. Should we try again to teleport to the village or do we continue to the Temple?” Winter enquired of the group.

  “It could be too risky to try teleporting again. Who knows, the nexus of power may send us somewhere further away. We could fly around a bit to get our bearings.”

  “I would advise against that,” replied Athenais. “Other than the anomalous energy ripples there is one other thing I forgot to mention. Scattered throughout the Himalayas are nests of roc.”

  “Athenais, that doesn’t make sense. Nests of rock, we’re surrounded by mountains of stone.” Archer said.

  “I didn’t mean stone, I meant Rocs – Giant birds. A long time ago they were rumoured to have been ridden much like horses. Much quicker to navigate these mountains on one of those, but unfortunately they are rather vicious and now cannot be tamed. They’re very intelligent creatures and have even learned to distinguish fluctuations in the Aether caused by magic. It wouldn’t take too long before they discovered us flying around invisible either.”

  “Understood, but we need to get our bearings so we have to take the risk.”

  The spherical shield rose out of the snow and soon they were flying over white-capped mountain peaks. The sun was a dull orange ball low on the horizon, and pretty soon it would disappear behind the tall ranges. Time was now against them as they quickly manoeuvred through canyons and low-lying clouds. Beneath them the green and white landscape undulated like a bizarre sea created by the folds of the mountains.

  A river appeared beneath them, and following it a short distance they came upon a tiny cluster of huts. Too small to be Khudi but at least it was a sign they weren’t too far from civilization. “This could be the Budhi Gandaki River,” Athenais shouted with triumphant glee, “I believe this follows an old salt-trading route which will take us past Manaslu. We should wait until dark before travelling further; the rocs don’t usually hunt at night.”

  As darkness descended upon the small riverside town the travellers decided it was safe enough to continue flying. Encased in a protective bubble they silently and quickly rose again into the cold air, and following the river they eventually came to a tall range of mountains. Looking like every other mountain in the Himalayas only one stood out above the rest. Towering several thousand feet higher, covered mostly in snow and ice stood the stalwart sentinel Manaslu – Mountain of the Spirit. But what also set it apart, and only detectable by those now flying towards it, were the invisible curtains of energy that seemed to flow out of the very ground and envelope the mountain itself. Like a flower in bloom the mountain, when seen using MageSight, glowed a multitude of hues.

  Despite being an abundant source of raw mana it was also incredibly chaotic; meaning anyone using magic inside would run the risk of their spells reacting in an uncontrollable, and possibly violent, manner. Flying into such a maelstrom of power would certainly bode ill for the five travellers approaching the mountain.

  “Winter, set us down at the foot of the mountain, as close as you dare go, we don’t want to get caught in that,” said Silver who motioned towards a particularly large burst of mana erupting from the side of the mountain.

  Soon they were
all standing on solid ground in a small clearing a short distance from the ancient salt trading route. A rough path, little more than a goat track, led them upwards towards the peak. The magical globes of light they created to see by began to flicker as the small amount of mana reacted with the forces of the mountain, but soon they came to a small cave. The carvings around the entrance suggested the cave too was possibly created, as the floor and walls were smooth stone.

  Upon entering the cave the globes of light brightened and no longer flickered. It was possible the cave was shielding them from the effects of the raw mana outside which contradicted everything the five magicians new about the nature of their power source. “Many years ago,” Athenais began, “I discovered that the material in this cave, comprising mostly granite and some other substances, act to nullify the chaotic forces surrounding us.”

  “Where does this lead us?”

  “Soon we will exit the cave and then we have a long climb. Thankfully we do not have to reach the very top. The Temple of Air is about three quarters of the way.”

  “Athenais, how long did it take you to climb these stairs?” silver enquired.

  “Oh, we should be there by the time the sun rises.”

  “In this valley that could easily mean twelve or more hours from now!”

  “Although, I am quite certain it could be longer. I’m not the young magician I once was.”

  “Silver,” Archer asked in a low whisper as she drew up next to him, “How much time does that give us?”

  “If my calculations are correct we would have fewer than 72 hours remaining. I don’t know how long it will take to find the Water of Life but we need to take into consideration our return trip. I can get us back to Avalon but not through those energy fields surrounding this mountain.”