Magician Reborn (Book 2)

by Paul Sobol

  “It disturbs me how your mind often works,” Moore said. “But you wouldn’t want to scare off the locals or regular patrons, so the enchantments would be specific to users of magic. Perhaps a reaction against positive mana we use. However, there should be another way in or out in case of emergencies. Want the top or bottom?”

  “Since neither of us particularly wants to go rummaging through the sewers we’ll settle this like magicians.”

  Both men held out their hands, palms up.

  “One, two, three.”

  Above one hand appeared a small rock, and in the opposite hand appeared a net. “Net catches rock,” Carlyle triumphantly crowed quietly, “enjoy the sewers my friend, I’ll scout out the roof.”

  Looking slightly disgusted, Detective Moore made his way to a nearby manhole in the street. With a wave of his hand the heavy round metal cover rose gently into the air, and without pausing he jumped down into the darkness. The manhole cover soon followed, and with a clang fell into place. By this time Carlyle was already preoccupied with scouting the lane that led towards the rear of the building.

  A rusted and heavily damaged Dodge was parked by the back door, looking more like it had been abandoned to its fate, but the faint smell of petrol belied its inactive state.

  As suspected the same faint trace of dark magic lingered around the back door, and Carlyle had no other choice but to check the roof. Not bothering to waste time on scaling the dangerously rusty drain pipe, he jumped into the air. Landing on the edge of the roof, several meters up, he quickly scanned for any booby traps. Sensing nothing out of the ordinary, Carlyle made his way to the single door that should lead down into the bar, but cursing his bad luck he found the entrance to be spelled as well.

  Whoever owned the bar was either being thorough or paranoid with the defensive spells. Looking around the empty roof space he figured it must be the latter. Crossing over to a ventilation grille he smiled to himself. It was unguarded by magic. With a motion of his hand the grille finally came loose with an audible groan of twisting metal.

  Throwing the grille aside, the magician considered his next move. The ventilation duct was not as wide as he thought it would be, and a large air-conditioner unit blocked any further access into the building. With a sigh he closed his eyes in concentration, and moments later where a young man stood was now an opaque patch of white smoke. Despite the outflow of air coming from the vent the smoke began to flow down into the air-conditioner.

  In a non-physical form, Carlyle felt nothing, but as he passed through the whirring blades of the cooling unit he couldn’t supress the equivalent of a mental shudder. Stretching out his awareness, Carlyle was able to map the duct system and quickly locate the manager’s office. In less than a minute the smoke condensed in the empty room and retook human form. Thankful to be in one whole piece Carlyle spent a few moments surveying his surroundings both visually and magically. Satisfied nothing was going to disintegrate him immediately, he ventured over to the managers desk.

  Besides a dusty table lamp there were only a few scatter pieces of paper lying around haphazardly. A cursory glance showed nothing of interest, mostly billing invoices for the bar. A magical scan of the drawers revealed nothing and he spent a few minutes searching through each one. Again, nothing of interest.

  Slowly pacing around the room he discovered a small safe inbuilt into the wall behind a faded picture, and although tempted to see what may lie within he sensed nothing magical and most likely of little importance. He did take a few moments to rifle through a filing cabinet but found only old invoices.

  Disappointed, Carlyle knew if he had found anything it would have been too easy, so he decided a bit more exploring was in order. From the general layout of the ducts he had some idea of where to search next.

  The upper floor was mostly unoccupied half-filled storage rooms, with one long boardroom which seemed to have seen recent use. Unlike the other rooms, this one was conspicuously devoid of the usual thin layer of dust, and the leather chairs, while well-used, still shone black as did the long wooden table. Judging from the number of seats around the table a considerable sized gathering took place not long ago; the air still smelling strongly of cigarette smoke and cheap alcohol. One individual even smoked a quantity of marijuana - its peculiar smell barely lingered on the air but was still detectable.

  Back in the corridor, there remained only one way to go. Down. From the top of the stairs Carlyle could hear nothing. Tentatively, he took each step slowly and as quiet as possible. If there were somebody down in the bar he didn’t want to risk casting any more magic to mute his footsteps, just in case they could detect it. So he took the stairs painstakingly slow. He tried extending his awareness further but sensed nothing out of the ordinary.

  The ground floor was predominately empty space with tables, chairs and secluded booths set up, with the bar running the entire length of one side of the room. A small space in the middle passed for a miserable excuse of a dance floor, but judging from the layer of dust it hadn’t seen use in a long time. Like the rest of the building the front bar had the same air of disuse – stale cigarettes and spilled beer.

  Satisfied no one was close enough, Carlyle quickly performed a magical scan of the room. Recoiling in horror he barely managed to stop himself from unleashing his full power on the grey fungus that coated every surface. The Creeping Doom was everywhere he looked; on bar stools, tables, even the glasses and various bottles of alcohol stacked behind the bar on glass shelves. Looking around with his Mage-sight, Carlyle could swear the grey fungus moved, crawling obscenely over everything as though it were a living thing.

  No wonder the bar was empty, Carlyle thought to himself. Anyone who entered would instantly be infected and slowly drained of their life energy. A particularly excruciating way to die. The bar made perfect sense for the Creeping Doom’s cultivation. The life-draining magical fungus fed primarily on human emotions: depression, sadness, and anger - all the negative emotions experienced by those who turned to alcohol to forget their sorrows.

  The stairs were thankfully relatively free of the fungus, and by the small pathway leading down another corridor it looks as if someone had recently burned away some of the dangerous substance with magic. In time it would eventually regrow and travel up the stairs, but for now the cleared path was the only way to go, leading straight down to the very end of the corridor.

  Carlyle silently thanked whoever had installed the carpet in the hallway; otherwise his footsteps would have easily been heard by anyone in the adjacent rooms. Not bothering to try each door he went straight to the end, guessing the closed door lead down into the basement. He didn’t sense any magic on the door but there was definitely a presence close, possibly beneath his very feet.

  The handle slowly turned, and trying to make as little noise as possible Carlyle managed to open the door. As expected, he found another flight of stairs. That was about as far as his luck went - the carpet ended and each step down was wooden floorboards. There goes the element of surprise, Carlyle thought to himself gloomily, as each step he took would most likely groan or creak and whatever was down there would know he was coming. And using magic was out of the question too because it would also be sensed. Seeing no other option but to continue onwards, Carlyle prepared to make a noisy descent.

  All Hell broke loose.

  From somewhere further in the basement a brilliant flash of magic illuminated the surroundings, contrasted black and white, as if caused by a bolt of lightning. Several smaller blasts of magic could be felt reverberating around the confined space and Carlyle knew his fellow agent was in trouble.

  Taking the stairs two at a time, Carlyle heard a commotion from behind and knew the recent magical activity in the basement had certainly caught someone’s attention. From the sound of multiple doors crashing open he guessed it was quite a few somebody’s.

  Risking a few moments Carlyle turned to deal with those about to come down the stairs. From his upraised hands a small flame eru
pted, and within moments grew to a sizeable fireball which he tossed through the open doorway. Screams of agony could be heard from beyond the hallway, which by now was entirely engulfed in magical flame. Those coming out of the side rooms were caught by surprise at the sudden attack.

  With a wave of his hand the top door closed shut and the screaming was cut off along with the fire. One final spell was cast on the door before Carlyle resumed his descent into the basement. Hopefully those above were too busy putting out the fire before trying to follow him down; the little surprise he had left behind was certainly to go off with a bang.

  Reaching the bottom step, Carlyle quickly surveyed the room. In by-gone days this space had been used for storing alcohol, but recently someone had invested enough money to transform it into a laboratory. Vials and beakers of various sizes lay strewn around the room, some still filled with colourful liquids and the air pungent with the smell of chemicals. Jars that had once been stacked along a shelf were shattered and even partially melted, and on the central table was a jumble of smashed chemistry equipment. Whoever had been working down here certainly knew what they were doing, it was top grade equipment not usually found in basement labs cooking meth or any other street drug.

  This setup was organised and highly sophisticated.

  And that meant a true professional was in play.

  Shifting perception, Carlyle detected no growth of the Creeping Doom. However, he found an alarming amount of the fungus contained within several undamaged vials. Whatever was being concocted was clearly very dangerous, and Carlyle suspected this was the source of the Walking Death drug.

  A groan escaped from a nearby pile of debris - what used to be a book case - and Carlyle quickly went over to help his fallen comrade. A little unsteady on his feet, Moore looked like he had gone through a meat grinder and come out the other end still in one piece. His tailored suit was in tatters, with several scorch marks attesting to the ferocity of the battle that had taken place moments earlier. There was a considerable amount of blood staining the agent’s throat, but upon closer inspection the cut was not life-threatening.

  Carlyle took a few moments to quickly incant a healing spell, and soon Agent Moore was looking much better and able to stand on his own two feet without support. The cut on his jaw was no longer bleeding, but whatever had created the wound was interfering with the healing process. This was a common problem associated with weapons enchanted with dark energy. Without the skills of a proper Healer, the best Carlyle could do was close the wound, leaving a thin white scar. “You look better, but this is no time to rest, we’ve got company above.”

  “He went down the hole,” said Moore, pointing to the small doorway that opened into darkness, “he’s the one we want.”

  The sound of pounding and splintering wood came from the door at the top of the stairway, and Carlyle knew they didn’t have long before crashing through.

  “Sorry, but we’ve got no time for a hunt.” Carlyle held tightly to his partner. As the teleportation spell finished the two mages disappeared in a flash of magical energy.

  The door splintered down the middle, and after a few more kicks it gave way entirely. In a frenzied, careless dash, a dozen semi-charred corpses made their way down the stairs, unmindful of the enchantment they had just activated. Before reaching the last step, a blinding white light filled the air. Ceasing to exist instantaneously, the zombies, and everything around them disappeared.

  From the safety of the black sedan, parked a short distance from Roach’s Bar, Detectives Carlyle and Moore watched as the entire building was enveloped in a massive column of pure white light. If it weren’t for the powerful shields of protection on the car and glass tinting both magicians inside would have been blinded and heavily tanned for quite some time.

  Together they shared a silent victory as the underground drug lab was destroyed, along with any minions that had been unfortunate enough to be trapped inside. As the spell of Cleansing finished there remained nothing left of the bar, except a rather deep hole that was now beginning to fill with sewerage and rubble. Hopefully whoever had fled through the tunnel didn’t get very far, and just maybe they eliminated someone high up in the production chain.

  At the very least they had slowed down the spread of a drug whose side effects were terrifying, and both mages tried not to think of how many might already be infected with a magically modified version of the Creeping Doom.

  Chapter Seven

  “Aced it!”

  “If I didn’t know any better I’d swear someone helped you on that last exam.”

  “What makes you think that?”

  “First, Ancient Runes was never your favourite subject, and second, you can’t remove that silly grin when you spend time with Skye.”

  “OK you win, and yes she did help me study for that exam, but I swear on my unsullied honour nothing else happened.”

  “I’m your best friend. I know what you would do even against your honour. So,” said Simon after a brief pause, “do I want to know how far you two got or should I just dive into that little brain of yours and sneak a peek?”

  “Nice try, but I know you can only pick up my surface thoughts at the best of times. You taught me too well.”

  “You take all the fun out of things, Xander. But in all seriousness, how did you pass the test? I heard it was pretty difficult this year. Although, one particular student did manage to defeat a high-level Rune-mage in the Tournament last week.”

  “If you must know,” began Xander in a conspiratorial tone, “it was during that particular fight that I came to realise how important rune magic was. Sure it was a fascinating subject to take, but you’re right, I would have barely passed the final exam had it not been for that fight. What was his name? Dan? Dane?”

  “Dane Andersen, the Swedish student who was accepted into the Merlin Academy. A Rune-mage prodigy I heard. From a very young age he had been able to construct some of the more complex runic spells that would boggle our minds. But the unfortunate truth is rune magic is too slow for conventional battle, whereas a magician can adapt to changes quickly because of the different spells available on hand. Against another Rune-mage, Andersen would have beaten them hands down every time.”

  “Then what was he thinking joining the tournament, knowing full well he would be outmatched?”

  “Maybe he was trying to prove a point,” said Simon, “some do it for the fame winning would bring, others might feel they have something to prove, and some…just believe in themselves too much.”

  “Huh, and which one am I?” Xander glanced over at his friend to see if he would take the bait, but instead of a response all he got was a wry grin.

  “Ever since we have known each other, you have always been confident in your own abilities. It’s almost as if you know you’re an exceptional magician but too humble to spell it out for us lower beings,” Simon said half-heartedly with a bit of sarcasm thrown in to make it sound less serious, “but you’ve got one final hurdle to jump before crowning yourself Ultimate Universal Power.”

  “Don’t keep reminding me, it’s all I’ve thought about these past few days, except of course when I’m supposed to be studying Ancient Runes.” Xander looked over the gardens towards the Tower. The day was sunny and warm and those students not busy with exams or study were taking advantage of the great weather to be outdoors. “I’ve just got this feeling.”

  “Nerves, that’s all,” replied Simon, “everyone gets them before the final Testing.”

  “Can I ask what yours was like?”

  “Surprisingly easy. Like many other students I had imagined the Testing to be quite difficult and filled with unknowable dangers, but I was wrong. I do admit I had a slight advantage over everyone else but that’s only because the Tower was designed for magicians, not psychics. I can turn off my irrational fears and look calmly out at the world despite how chaotic it may seem at the time. One tip I can part to you Xander: find your inner self – that quiet place of perfect stillness
deep within. There you will find the Will to overcome any obstacle.”

  “Sounds like something out of a fortune cookie.”

  Simon ignored the comment and continued. “It wouldn’t hurt to search for a little inner peace; you’ll be surprised at what you may find.”

  “Ancient Runes wasn’t the only subject I was terrible at. I barely passed Meditation in the second year, so drop the Zen sermon I don’t need any more lectures.”

  “You also don’t need any more distractions,” said Simon looking over at a small group of female students chatting away. He did not fail to notice one of them was Skye. “At least until after the Testing.”

  “Now who’s taking the fun out of things?” Xander said jokingly.

  “Do you know when?”

  Xander knew exactly what his best friend was referring to. “I received the notice yesterday. It’s in a few days’ time, at night. I’m one of the last students to take the Test.”

  “There is one person you know who is fairly good at reading the winds. Perhaps you could ask her and find out what the weather will be like.”

  “Knowing Skye she would do it for me, but then it just wouldn’t feel right. The Test is what it is, no matter the weather, so who cares if I get a little wet?”

  Lightning flashed across the heavily clouded night sky.

  Looking up at the Tower, Xander silently cursed whichever god had conspired to create a thunderstorm on the very night of his Testing. Ruefully he chided himself for cursing something that may actually exist, and under his breath Xander hastily apologised for his careless thoughts and prayed the storm would lessen by the time he got to the top.

  Thankfully it wasn’t raining.

  Standing by the only entrance to the Tower, a single Magician motioned for Xander to come forward. “On this night, a student of the Academy enters the Tower of Testing. Upon reaching the top you shall be challenged. Prove worthy, and you may descend, proudly bearing the mantle of Apprentice Magician.”