The Young Magician

CHAPTER FIVE

Giggling girls were darting all about, playing and dancing in such a strange and alluring way when, much to Samuel’s annoyance, someone began to shout and his dream was abruptly interrupted.

‘Quickly!’ came the shouting voice again. ‘Wake up!’

Groans and noises came from all around and then Samuel winced as the room lit up with mage-lights. He put one hand over his face and rubbed his tired eyes while he slowly worked on how to open them.

‘What’s happening?’ someone asked, calling down from the balcony.

‘Hurry and dress,’ the voice called back up from downstairs. ‘Everyone is needed at once. Come outside as quickly as you can.’

Samuel managed to struggle into his clothes and he stumbled outside with the others, where the cold wind harassed them indignantly. An Adept was waiting there, with his mage-light hovering over his head, while the apprentices from every dormitory formed a group before him.

‘Is this everyone?’ the Adept asked. ‘Good. Follow me quickly to the docks. There has been an accident and everyone has been summoned to assist however they can. Quickly, follow me.’

With that, Samuel’s interest was aroused, for he wondered what could have happened but, as they hurried out of the School of Magic and down the damp, stone streets towards the harbour, the Adept could answer none of their questions.

When they arrived shivering at the docks, with the hissing wind blowing salt into their faces, they were met by a truly curious scene. Mage-lights hung everywhere amongst crowds of hooded and robed people, all huddling in tight groups to shield themselves from the wind. The Adept led the way and began to push through them, squeezing past a final line of soldiers to the dock-front, where many black-cloaked magicians stood. Some huddled and talked, gesturing out to sea, while others bent over a sopping row of laid-out men, applying spells of scrying and healing-many of the men were already dead and lifeless, while others choked and moaned. Drawn out into the harbour, Samuel’s gaze found a great deal of magic at work and mage-lights were glowing far out amongst the dark and rolling waves.

Master Glim spied the group and came over to them at once with a worried face. ‘Help where you can,’ he told them. ‘Do whatever you are asked. The Merry Widow has struck the harbour shoals and many have already perished. Do what you can and be quick about it!’ At that, each apprentice darted off to offer assistance to any Adept or Masters they could find. Samuel and the two Erics began to hurry off, but Master Glim stopped them. ‘You three come with me,’ he told them. ‘There are many men still on board that ship and the cargo must be recovered if it can. The Archmage has requested that we save it at any cost. Follow me.’

Master Glim hurried out along the central pier and signalled to the other Masters waiting there. At that, they each began to enter the longboats that lay waiting, each manned by four oarsmen and held tethered by a fifth.

‘Get into a boat,’ Master Glim instructed Samuel and his friends, lifting his voice above the wind. ‘Follow us out and help where you can, but keep your distance-and be careful! The sea is treacherous tonight. I don’t want you lying at the bottom of the harbour like so many others already.’ Master Glim bore a look of worry as Samuel had never seen on the man.

‘At least it’s stopped raining,’ Eric Pot noted.

Samuel spied a waiting vessel nearby and hurried over, then gingerly climbed down into it. The sailors eyed him nervously as he struggled to sit in the rocking boat, holding on tightly to each side with his freezing hands. Without need for command, the boat was released and the sailors pushed away from the pier and began to dig their oars into the sea, following the long line of illuminated longboats that bobbed out towards the distant glow where the Merry Widow lay wrecked.

The bitter wind blew straight through Samuel’s cloak as he peered apprehensively out over the dark water. The black depths seemed to pull at him, as if they held some great weight that could suddenly topple him from the boat and drag him down. Samuel held on tighter and looked to his feet, where water had managed to gather and pool. He could feel his stomach rolling and turning in time with the sea. His skin was already goose-bumped and he began to shiver with cold. It irked him that, despite his abilities, he was still subject to something so trivial. He considered summoning a burning mage-light to keep him warm, but he dared not waste the energy; he had the feeling he would need every mote of his strength for whatever lay ahead.

It seemed to take forever to crawl their way out across the bay, with the sounds of the city quickly smothered by the wind. The rhythmical pounding and hissing of the sea grew louder with every stroke of the oars.

As they drew near the great black shoals, a few cabin lights could still be seen aboard the hulking form of the Merry Widow, where it lay jutting up on the rocks. A flotilla of tiny mage-lit vessels bobbed before it, each lending a bluish light to the scene. The wood of the labouring ship groaned and cracked under the enormous pressure as heaving waves thundered against it from the seaward side. Planks cracked and snapped, sending chunks of debris flying off and plopping into the sea. The sight was calamitous at best and Samuel’s heart now felt like a racehorse galloping in his chest.

‘Just here,’ he shouted to his men. With the booming of the waves and the howling of the wind and hissing of the sea, he was surprised the sailors could even hear him, but they dug in their oars at Samuel’s instruction, holding the boat as still as they could. They turned to look over their shoulders and eyed the catastrophic scene with dismay.

Samuel was not sure what to do at first, but when he saw a string of bright spheres start out from another longboat, he quickly copied. He filled the air with a host of lights, further illuminating the scene with ghoulish, blue radiance. Most of the other craft seemed to hold a Master, while some of the nearer vessels held Adept, and they each eyed the Merry Widow nervously, magic readied at their fingertips. Samuel spied Master Glim standing firmly in his vessel a little way behind them all, watching on solemnly. Eric Pot and Goodfellow were just arriving, pulling alongside in their longboats with wide eyes and open mouths, each clutching the sides of their vessels for dear life.

A popping sensation alerted Samuel that one of his spells had failed and a mage-light vanished from view. It was surprisingly difficult to keep his spheres in position. Despite the fact that they were composed of magic and had no real weight, the wind seemed to drag at them and the air was filled with spray that obscured their light. In these conditions, it was difficult just to concentrate and Samuel had to keep pushing more power into his spells to stop them from vanishing. His fears seemed to drain his power away as fast as he could summon it. He felt the familiar sensation of the two Erics’ magic as they, too, began to light the scene. Their weaves were also strained and erratic as they struggled with their magic in the storm.

‘Calm your minds!’ came a voice and Samuel turned around-almost too quickly-and the boat began rocking about. Master Glim was shouting his advice from behind, as if sensing their unsteadiness. ‘Remember your lessons! Calm your minds!’

Just then, Samuel’s skin began to prickle as all the Masters commenced casting their magic out onto the ship. Their power surrounded the vessel and began to hold it firm, steadying it upon the rocks. For a few moments, the groaning and cracking of the ship eased as they steadied the vessel in place. Their weaves then began to intensify as the Masters strengthened their spells. Samuel could feel them trying to lift the ship from the shoals, but their efforts were in vain. Too much of the craft was already underwater and the sea sucked at the craft as much as they strained to lift it.

A movement to his right caught Samuel’s eye. Two longboats had breached the breakwater and were now entering the open sea. The tiny boats bobbed wildly as they entered the enormous waves and then disappeared amongst them.

‘Who’s that?’ Samuel shouted out to Eric Pot beside him, straining above the roar of the wind and the waves.

‘I’m not sure,’ Eric called back. ‘Two Adept. Damned fools! They’re trying to help from the other side.’

‘They’ll get themselves killed!’ Goodfellow shouted, barely audible on the other side of Eric’s vessel.

Master Glim obviously thought the same thing, for Samuel spied his longboat skimming out after the first two. Samuel could feel his teacher’s spells propelling the boat while the sailors dug their oars in to aid all they could. Even from this distance, Samuel could see the grim concern on Master Glim’s face.

Samuel looked to his own crew. They were already looking back at him with dreadful anticipation. ‘Follow them,’ Samuel ordered.

The sailors swallowed hard and then bit their oars deep, sending the boat lurching forward. Samuel looked ahead with dismay, for every moment brought them closer to the heaving, dark waters of the open sea. He held tight as they entered the mouth of the shoal break and he cast a few spells that he hoped would help to steady the vessel, leaving the sailors to concentrate on propelling it. Each wave sent them higher as they passed between the rocks, giving them a taste of what would come. Each swell was greater than the last, passing beneath them like enormous, prowling leviathans. As they reached the point of the great foaming shoals, their boat was tossed about in all directions. Samuel held tight with closed eyes, desperately trying to improve his spells and somehow stabilise them. He had no experience with such magic and had no time to even think about what he was doing. Suddenly, the ocean seemed to disappear beneath them and the longboat swooned down between two massive waves. Samuel’s heart flew up into his mouth and he shouted out in terror. Water crashed down ontop of them, filling his mouth and eyes with stinging salt, but as he coughed and gagged and shook his head, the boat surged up once again and it took Samuel a moment to realise he was not drowned quite yet.

The sailors were still rowing with all their might, but their faces and knuckles were white. As the longboat crested the next rolling wave, Samuel could see the mage-lit form of the Merry Widow once more and a dim hope returned to him.

His spells were all now tattered, so Samuel took as deep a breath as he could manage in the salt and spray-filled wind and cast them each spell anew. The longboat shuddered and creaked and steadied in place as his spells seeped over it. As they bore down once again between the mountainous waves, Samuel’s heart skipped a beat, expecting the worst, but his magic did the trick and their vessel bobbed up again lightly on the following wave like a cork. He sighed with relief and the sailors cheered aloud. His spells were still quite difficult to hold, and so Samuel left the task of propelling the vessel to them.

‘Let’s go,’ Samuel told them and nodded towards the stranded ship. Just then, a flash of magic further out to sea caught his attention and Samuel turned his head into the wind to see. He peered into the flying salt and darkness, his vision drawn by the odd sprays of magic that shot up between wave tops. It was almost impossible to be sure, but Samuel thought he could see another tiny vessel speeding away through the waters, north towards the point. A lone shadow, cloaked in darkness, was crouching in the boat and sending it cutting through the waves with bursts of carefully timed magic. The figure was away now and Samuel had no time to think about it, instead turning his attention back to the Merry Widow.

They had been blown quite a distance away, but the men had found new strength along with Samuel’s spells and were oaring their vessel in the right direction. Each stroke sent them speeding along and the sailors laughed to each other as if they had already become heroes.

‘Like a mill pond!’ one called out above the wind and they laughed again.

Samuel wished he could share their optimism. He kept his eyes towards the rocks as they surged nearer. The scene became clearer as they crested each wave and he could see the three longboats floating beside the shoals, sitting in a circle of perfectly calm water. Master Glim’s boat was between the other two, and he stood in his tiny vessel, throwing out spells that calmed the waters around them. Samuel’s awe of the man was renewed, for the mighty waves that rolled in upon them dropped instantly flat the moment they touched his spell. Spells of Lifting surged out from the two Adept on the seaward side of the Merry Widow.

The ship gave a long miserable groan as the spells took effect and it began lifting from the sea, gushing water from its ruptured side. The tiny figures of men could be seen darting about on the deck of the vessel-no doubt they were the last of the sailors, too afraid to throw themselves onto the jagged rocks or into the wild seas.

Once more Samuel’s craft sank down between wave crests and his view was lost.

‘Hurry!’ he urged his men and he could sense them straining on, the veins in their necks popping out with effort.

Samuel could hear the ship howling and moaning and as he crested the last wave, he could see the front of the ship was now fully raised from the rocks. Spells came from all around, from Master and Adept alike, dragging the massive ship in towards the harbour, slowly clawing it from the sea. The horrid noises continued emanating from the ship as it lurched and twisted under their spells. Samuel could see the magic at work, but it was obvious to him that there was quite a problem-the spells were lifting and pulling in almost every direction and not working together at all. The magicians were too distracted, too inexperienced and too impatient. Samuel wondered how much force the vessel could withstand before it was torn completely apart. As his longboat swooped down and entered Master Glim’s circle of tranquillity, the older man looked towards him with worry. Samuel stood in his rocky boat and threw up a hand, beginning a spell to try and unify all the others, when his worst fear was terribly and horribly realised.

The Merry Widow cracked in two with a thunderous boom and an explosion of wood and splinters. The aft section screamed and collapsed back into the foaming waves and was swallowed immediately with a cavernous gulp of rushing water. The bow section, still gripped by most of the spells, was thrown suddenly into the air like a child’s plaything. Timbers tore apart and flew into the sky, raining down all over, pelting the sea and rocks and men like a rain of arrows. The remains of the ship began to fall all around them, pieces the size of houses. Samuel quickly threw up a shielding spell to protect them as his wide-eyed sailors yelled out in fear and surprise and tried to cover themselves.

Master Glim vanished as a huge beam of wood fell upon him and he and his vessel of men were abruptly swallowed beneath the sea. Master Glim’s calming spell vanished along with him and the waves surged in upon them all. Samuel fell back onto the floor of their vessel as it was thrown around in all directions like a leaf in a storm. He had to hold on as tightly as he could and keep all his effort on maintaining his spells so they would not be drowned. Debris rained down all around them and Samuel had only his luck to thank that nothing penetrated his shield. With considerable effort, he formed a new spell, as close to Master Glim’s as he could manage from his brief observation and, after a few dreadful moments, the sea all around them began to calm and their longboat stopped its spinning and turning and settled still. Samuel only realised he was breathing hard when he felt the burning of his chest and the tiredness in his jaw. After long moments, Samuel noticed one of the sailors was shouting at him while another was vomiting at his feet.

‘My Lord! What do we do?’

Samuel looked at the sailor. He could not think of any words to give the man and so he slowly surveyed the scene all around. Their boat sat in a tiny circle of calm, speckled with floating debris, amongst waves that surged all around. He released his shielding spell and the spells he had formed earlier to steady their boat-Master Glim’s tranquillity spell was all they should need from now. He took another deep breath and began to push more power into Master Glim’s spell. Slowly, the circle of calm around them grew, pushing away the mountainous swell until it seemed they were amidst a strange, still and watery field.

‘By the old gods!’ Samuel heard one sailor hiss as the situation became clearer. Mage-lights were darting all around overhead as if searching, but the magicians still on the shore side of the rocks could not be seen beyond the waves and spray. An upturned longboat and several men were floating nearby, some splashing, some still.

‘There!’ Samuel instructed, pointing his finger towards the floating men. The sailors leapt into action and began rowing as he directed.

Three men could be seen grasping the side of their vessel and they struggled over to Samuel’s boat as he neared. Samuel quickly formed a spell and, with a gesture, turned over their craft and emptied it of water. Another sailor with a blood-seeping head swam nearby with the limp form of Master Glim floating in his arms. Samuel put them into the other boat with barely a thought. He did not have time to notice that his own four men were gawking at his spells with awe. Master Glim was alive, but clutching at his shoulder and gritting his teeth in pain, muttering to himself.

‘Over there!’ someone called and Samuel spied the two Adept and the remaining sailors all paddling towards them. It was miraculous that none of them had died, but the chunks of flesh-filled clothing that bobbed here and there spoke of a different fate for the sailors of the Merry Widow. Overloading the two longboats, they managed to recover everyone and they started back for the sheltered waters.

Once again within the protection of the bay, Samuel let his spells fade, for his head now ached with the exertion and his limbs felt numb and stone-heavy. Shards of hull and mast and sail floated atop the water beside numerous bobbing corpses. The sailors at Samuel’s side used the last of their strength to get the low-lying boat back to shore, flanked by an escort of Masters.

Samuel, first onto the jetty despite his unsteady legs, offered a hand to Master Glim, who was conscious, but obviously disoriented and groggy.

Master Glim accepted Samuel’s hand and was up beside him, shaking his head. ‘A disaster,’ he managed to say with a raspy voice.

‘A disaster,’ Samuel agreed, wearily.

Master Glim nodded. ‘I fear things could have turned out far worse for all of us. We were very lucky we didn’t all drown.’

‘I agree,’ Samuel nodded. The man did not seem to realise that Samuel had saved them all. The blow to his head must have dazzled the old teacher, but Samuel did not care. He was entirely spent and exhausted.

‘I must tell Grand Master Anthem about this,’ Master Glim said. ‘I’m sure he will be very angry. Many lives have been lost this night, not entirely because of those two foolish Adept, but their actions certainly did not help.’ He shook his head once more. ‘The task was way beyond us.’

Samuel nodded. ‘I need to rest. I’m exhausted.’

‘As am I. That is the way. We have both spent too much power and our bodies must pay the toll. We need a little rest.’

Master Glim turned and walked slowly down the pier, where he began talking with some of the other Masters who had gathered there. He had recovered surprisingly quickly, but Samuel still felt weary as if about to faint. He staggered, wet and shivering, towards the others, who were just climbing from their vessels.

‘What happened out there, Samuel?’ Goodfellow asked. He had his arms folded and was shivering. His glasses were speckled with seawater.

‘I’ll tell you on the way back to the school. There’s nothing else we can do here. The Masters have everything under control-and I think I’m going to pass out any moment.’

Eric grabbed Samuel just as his knees were buckling, and helped him remain standing, throwing Samuel’s arm over his shoulder. Goodfellow went to Samuel’s other side, and together, they carried him between them, pushing through the crowd of onlookers and heading back towards the School of Magic.

‘What did those Adept think they were doing out there?’ Goodfellow asked.

‘Trying to get themselves killed,’ Eric commented.

‘They thought they could help,’ Samuel replied, ‘but they were foolish to think so. The sea was too rough. If not for Master Glim, they would have been done for. When the ship exploded, I did everything I could just to pick them all up and get back into the harbour.’

‘Do you think there will be punishment for the two Adept?’ Goodfellow asked.

‘I don’t think so,’ Samuel said wearily. ‘I think rather that Master Glim will only tell them of their foolishness and warn them to act more wisely next time. Personally, I’d have them put in the stocks for a few days. They deserve much worse.’

‘Perhaps you will receive a reward for bringing them all back safely, Samuel,’ Eric suggested.

‘I don’t think so,’ Samuel replied. ‘Master Glim was unconscious and didn’t know what was going on. I don’t think he realised I saved him at all.’

‘You should tell him!’ Goodfellow stated.

‘No,’ Samuel answered, barely able to keep his eyes open. ‘I’m just happy to be alive. I’ve decided I don’t like the sea as much as I thought.’

The others nodded and they shivered their way back towards the School of Magic along the dark city streets.

A few days later, Samuel was sitting downstairs reading over his notes and chewing on a hunk of bread, when two Adept came stomping into the dormitory to find him. They loomed over him angrily with their arms folded and brows furrowed.

The two Erics were chatting idly at another table and they stopped to observe what was going on. Goodfellow blinked and adjusted his spectacles and Eric Pot looked on with concern.

‘You are Samuel?’ one asked.

‘That’s right,’ Samuel said, still chomping on his bread.

‘We are the ones you helped the other night, with the Merry Widow.’

‘Oh!’ Samuel exclaimed with sudden realisation. ‘Sorry. I didn’t recognise you. It was dark and wet. I didn’t have time to see who you were.’

The two Adept looked at each other before the second one spoke. ‘We just want to clear things up,’ he said. ‘It’s something of a delicate matter. Of course, we’d like to thank you for helping us, but now we find ourselves in a rather embarrassing position.’

‘Robert!’ Eric called out. ‘What are you two on about?’

‘Shut your mouth, Pot!’ the second Adept, named Robert, called back, shaking his finger at him. ‘We’re speaking with Samuel, so it’s none of your concern.’

‘You two are idiots! If not for Master Glim and Samuel, you’d both be dead now,’ Eric replied, with a hint of anger, but Samuel calmed him with a raised hand.

‘It’s not a problem, Eric,’ he said calmly. ‘Let them go on.’

‘Well, there’s a small matter of our reputation to attend to,’ the first Adept, Artam, said to Samuel. ‘Word has somehow been passed around that we caused all this trouble and that we needed you to save us. Now our names are as good as rubbish. We just can’t have everyone thinking that we needed some foreign apprentice to get us out of trouble.’

‘Which you did,’ Eric called out.

‘Shut it, Pot!’ Robert shouted again, throwing a vile look, but Eric just laughed and shook his head.

‘And what about Master Glim?’ Artam continued. ‘We all know he was responsible for saving us all and all this talk is only soiling his good Turian name.’

‘I understand,’ Samuel said. ‘But I haven’t spoken to anyone about it.’

‘Good,’ Robert said. ‘Then I trust we won’t have to speak again.’

The two Adept twirled in their cloaks dramatically and left.

‘They don’t seem very mature,’ Samuel stated.

‘That’s Artam Ritter and Robert Mundle,’ Goodfellow informed him. ‘They’ve always been troublesome and they don’t have many friends in the school. They like to make life difficult for any apprentices they come across, especially for us Outlanders. They’re both Imperials and they know it well. You’re lucky they haven’t bothered you before now.’

‘Well, they can do as they please,’ Samuel said, ‘as long as they don’t bother me any further.’

Eric laughed. ‘Good for you, but I’m sure they’ll try to make things difficult for you when they can. Let me know if they do. I wouldn’t mind getting my knuckles dirty on those two.’

Samuel laughed. ‘Very well,’ he replied, only just realising it had been a long time since he had been involved in a scuffle himself.

Samuel only had to wait another day before meeting the two Adept once again. While striding across the school grounds, he was confronted once more by the two young men, each looking furious.

‘Now people are saying we were crying when we came back to the jetty!’ Robert declared angrily. ‘And we are the laughing stock of all the Adept.’

‘I told you,’ Samuel stated plainly. ‘I haven’t said a thing and I can’t help what other people say.’

‘We know it’s your damned friend Pot! Well, we’re going to teach you both a lesson,’ Artam hissed. ‘It’s bad enough we have to put up with you Outlanders in the first place. You’re lucky to even have a place in the Order. You’re lucky the Emperor didn’t put you lot in chains. This is the last warning you’ll get.’

They turned and stormed away and Samuel shook his head before continuing on his way, himself.

‘What news of the boy?’ asked the thin voice of his dreams.

‘Stronger each day,’ replied the gruff. ‘He learns at a frightening rate. Some of his spells may now even eclipse mine. He only lacks confidence and experience.’

Silence.

And a moment later, ‘Can you control him?’

‘I believe so, but he grows ever sure of himself. He is not a child any more.’

The thin voice sounded full of thought. ‘He shows great hidden potential as we expected, but still keeps much to himself.’

‘Yes…and I feel that he has reached only a fraction of that potential.’

Still, Samuel was sure he knew who this gravelly-voiced speaker was, but the fog of his dreams kept him from putting the pieces together.

‘There are many mysteries around this boy.’ Again, long silence, then, ‘What about the ship?’

‘Nothing substantial, but I fear there was some interference from the Circle. Some of the sailors told of strange events in the few moments before it ran aground. Sailors are superstitious, but it could make sense.’

‘We should look into it. Seek Balten. The Archmage was not happy at all to lose his cargo and the loss of the books is a tragic blow. I cannot believe someone was not responsible for such misfortune.’

‘The Circle are never to be trusted,’ the gruff voice stated, ‘but we need them. Never forget that they may be playing us as much as we are playing them.’

‘We are all players and the played,’ the thin voice surmised. ‘All that matters is who finishes on top.’

‘And we play with dangerous company.’

‘Not for much longer.’ The thin voice carried no lack of satisfaction.

It was a few weeks later, in the Great Library-Samuel was beginning to think that Robert and Artam had lost their venom-when their promised moment of comeuppance finally arrived. He was browsing through the library gallery when a dozen or so Adept came stomping in through the doors. Looking around, Samuel found that he was the only other soul there at such an hour, a situation that the grinning Adept had no doubt been awaiting. They had managed to raise a small group of followers, all Imperials by the look of them and all smirking and intent on misbehaviour.

Samuel stepped away from the shelves as they gathered before him. They were all taller than him, and Samuel had little chance if it came to blows. He decided magic was best to decide this encounter and he began summoning his power. The magic felt thrilling as it filled him. He knew he should probably be nervous, but for some reason he did not feel the slightest bit threatened by these older boys once his magic had begun to come.

‘Have you heard of wet-beatings, Samuel?’ Robert asked, arms folded and standing tall before him.

Samuel shook his head.

‘It’s when smart apprentices like you are put in their place. We hold you down and whip you with wet towels until you beg us to stop.’

Samuel waved one hand, dismissively. ‘I don’t feel like it just now,’ he said. He was tired of their strutting and posing and wanted to teach them a lesson. Despite their numbers, he was sure his magic could handle them all.

Robert signalled and a number of Adept stepped forward and took Samuel by the arms. He did not even attempt to resist.

‘You don’t seem to appreciate how much this is going to hurt, but you need to be put back in your place. And we’ll take care of Pot next. Take him outside,’ Robert ordered.

With a grin, Samuel began to spell and, just then, Grand Master Anthem appeared behind them by the doorway.

‘What’s going on here!’ he bellowed and the Adept spun around to face him, releasing Samuel at once.

Robert began to stammer a response while the Grand Master strode closer.

‘You will all be expelled for this!’ he bellowed.

Samuel almost burst out laughing as the Adept shook with fear.

‘In fact,’ Anthem roared, his eyes wide and wild with anger, ‘I believe this calls for the harshest of penalties…death!’

The Adept looked to each other with hideous disbelief. Struggling to withhold his laughter, Samuel made his illusion grow up to the roof, transforming the raging Grand Master into a horrid, red-faced creature that began spewing fire from its mouth. The Adept screamed and ran in all directions. One even passed straight through the illusion as it roared and clutched its claws out towards them. Samuel laughed wildly, finding it hard to keep his spell intact though his spasms of mirth.

‘Grand Master!’ Robert stammered, backing away from the great creature. ‘Please don’t kill us! Please!’

Samuel could hold his spell no more and the demon vanished as he bent over laughing, slapping his thigh again and again. Artam and the others were still scattering out the door as Robert’s face went red with anger.

‘You!’ he declared, turning to Samuel.

‘Oh, Robert!’ Samuel said, still cackling. ‘You should have seen yourself!’

‘Why you-!’ Robert began, but he was still too terrified and angry to finish his words.

Samuel regained his composure and decided it was time to teach this arrogant Adept a good lesson. He was sick of them harassing him and treating everyone from the territories as inferior. ‘That’s right, Robert. It was an illusion, but I could quite as easily have summoned the real thing, but I couldn’t have guaranteed who it would eat or not. You had better…’

Robert’s fist flew up and punched Samuel squarely on the nose and Samuel staggered back, clutching his face in agony and complete surprise. His eyes filled with tears as Robert raised another fist before him.

Samuel raised a hand himself, but instead of fighting, he cast a spell. A heavy book flew up from the table and crashed into the side of Robert’s head, knocking him to the floor. Samuel’s vision cleared as Robert crawled up from the floor. He was even more red-faced with fury.

‘You!’ was all he said, shaking with rage.

A sudden spell came from him and the same book sprang from the floor back towards Samuel. Samuel stepped aside and the book flew far behind and bounced off distant shelving, leaving some of its pages fluttering loose to the floor. Samuel adjusted his shirt calmly as Robert spelled again and another volume came flying towards him. Samuel stopped the book with his fingertips just before his face and then waved it aside, where it waited, floating patiently. His head was swimming now with magic, for he was drawing as much power as he could. He wanted to show the arrogant Adept, once and for all, who was the more powerful.

‘Now, Robert,’ Samuel began to explain. He cast his spells out all over the room and Robert’s face filled with horror as hundreds of books and manuscripts began sliding out from the shelves and started floating slowly around below the library chamber ceiling. ‘I thought I would have a little fun, at first, but now it’s time to teach you a lesson. You seem to have some talent with Lifting spells, but you don’t realise how pathetic your powers really are compared to mine. You tried to lift the Merry Widow and you failed dismally and it nearly cost all our lives. Then you have the gall to blame me for your troubles, without any hint of an apology or thanks. You have no idea how powerful I really am. I have the power to crush you like an insignificant insect and I will not hesitate, should I choose to. This is no illusion, so I hope you are prepared.’

More and more books flew from their shelves and joined the pageant of parading pieces in the air and Robert watched them, frozen in sheer disbelief, as they swam around the ceiling beams in magnificent procession.

‘If you speak to me ever again without just reason, or if I hear of you harassing anyone else for any reason at all, I will be forced to do something we both may regret. I will not warn you or threaten you; I will merely put you in your place without hesitation. Keep your mouth shut and keep out of my way! The next time, I will not be held responsible for what happens to you.’

Robert turned and nearly tripped over himself getting out of the library. He ran to the great doors and darted out between them as quickly as he could. As the doors slowly creaked shut once more, Samuel could hold his spells no longer and the books all dropped from the air as one, spilling down onto the Great Library floor like a rain of paper. He had to cover his head with both arms to avoid receiving a concussion from some of the larger, leather-bound volumes.

Samuel suspected he would not have any more trouble from any of the Adept, but now he had another problem. It would take him hours to put the piles of books that littered the floor back into their places. Some of them looked broken and loose pages lay all about. He only hoped no one else would come into the library before he was done cleaning up, or he would surely have more trouble than his little stunt was worth.

Samuel was summoned to Grand Master Anthem’s chamber soon after. The old man had heard word of his exploits and did not seem the least bit impressed.

‘I understand you are quite a talented young man,’ the Grand Master was saying, ‘but you know it is absolutely forbidden to use magic for such purposes-especially against other members of the Order.’

‘It was only an illusion, Grand Master,’ Samuel defended. ‘Otherwise they were going to beat me!’

‘Wet-beatings are forbidden here,’ the old man said, ‘and the boys would have been punished, but you have only escalated the problem. The School of Magic is an ancient and revered institution. Imagine what would happen if every time someone upset me I decided to punish them with some spell. It would be terrible! Wars would begin in moments if everyone acted like that. I know some of the Adept are pretentious upstarts, but you must learn to deal with your daily problems without resorting to magic. Use reason, deliberation. As an Outlander, you must learn to understand Turians. What you think of as arrogance is pride in the Emperor and Empire.’

‘They…’ interjected Samuel, but Anthem kept talking.

‘You are a mere apprentice, Samuel. Imagine how upset I would be if you started talking back or assaulting me with magic. The Adept must be respected and shown due manners, even if it means being subservient on the odd occasion. You have a place here, Samuel. Remember it and you may keep it. Magic is not all you must learn here; also obedience and discipline. You are a promising student. Your spells may find a worthy niche in our society, but not if you have made an enemy of every other magician in the Empire. What those two young men did the other night was, indeed, foolhardy and they risked their own lives and also their teacher’s. Luckily, Master Glim was there to help them. You only complicated matters by foolishly tearing out after them and then you and your friend, Mr Pot, have the nerve to make matters worse by spreading the tale. You should think yourself very lucky you have not found yourself before the Council already. I am much more forgiving than they are. Such actions could easily result in expulsion, but I would hate to see your potential go to waste. Do not disappoint me like this any more, Samuel.’

Samuel nodded solemnly. ‘Thank you, Grand Master.’

‘You may go.’

Samuel pushed back his chair and stood. He closed the door as gently as he could but, as he strode away from the Grand Master’s chambers, he gritted his teeth and his fists were clenched tight at his sides. He had saved them all that night, but all he had received in return was chastisement for his efforts and not one word of thanks. If this was the reward for his humility, perhaps it was better for him to start showing them exactly how powerful he really was.

That night, Samuel’s dreams were nightmarish, filled with visions he had not experienced for a long time: beasts howling in the wilds; figures charging in with raised fists, and a tall, pale-faced man, always waiting and watching from the doorway. That face filled him with the most terror, as the man in the doorway-evil and monstrous; rejoicing in Samuel’s terror-was controlling the others. All the while, Samuel could hear a sorrowful voice of some boy calling over and over again, calling aloud for someone to find him. The sound was faint, as if the boy had almost faded away completely, drowned by all his sadness.

A familiar-looking magician, lean and tall, with skin of brown came striding over as Samuel was raking half-heartedly at some leaves by the smooth school walls.

‘Lomar!’ Samuel called, carrying his rake over to meet the man.

‘Hello, Samuel,’ Lomar said, granting a warm smile. ‘How you have grown since I saw you last! You’ll be towering over me soon-and going well in your studies, too, I hear.’

‘Yes,’ Samuel agreed. ‘Only a little trouble with some of the Adept, but nothing I cannot deal with.’

‘So I hear, too,’ Lomar said with laughter. ‘I’m glad we found you first.’

‘I’ve had some offers,’ Samuel admitted.

‘Balthazar?’ Lomar asked.

‘Of course,’ Samuel said with a grin. ‘He accosts me almost every time I go into the city.’

‘He has a way of being a nuisance. Still, you seem to have learned how to handle him.’

Samuel nodded. ‘He seems harmless enough.’

‘And I trust the Adept will not be bullying you any further?’

Samuel shook his head. ‘From what the Grand Master says, they nearly wet themselves.’

Lomar laughed long and loud. He was wearing a simple pair of trousers and a lace-up shirt. Both had been bleached almost grey by the sun. With his dark skin and worn clothes, he could probably pass as one of the dock workers hailing from the Spice Islands, although his blood was obviously of a different origin.

‘I think it was right of you to teach them a lesson, Samuel. They have only a short time left here in the school and, if they haven’t grown out of their bullying by now, then they will make terrible magicians. Which reminds me, the graduation is only a few weeks away. Are you ready?’

‘Hmm, not quite,’ Samuel replied. ‘I mean, I’m confident that I’ll make Adept, but I’ve been practising a few tricks that still need a little work.’

‘Well, nothing that will embarrass the teachers, I hope.’

‘Not the ones I like, anyway.’

Lomar laughed and shook his head. ‘Well, I’m sorry that I won’t be there to see it, but I have a lot of road before me.’

‘Really?’ Samuel asked. ‘Where are you going, now?’

‘I cannot tell you, Samuel. Suffice to say that it’s lucky that I can speak a little Garten.’ He winked.

‘Don’t they speak any Turian up there?’ Samuel asked.

At that, Lomar laughed. ‘No, not at all. Turian is spoken only here in the Empire. If you spoke the Emperor’s tongue there, you would certainly be beaten or have something you value chopped off. Even in some of the outlying areas of the Empire the people still resist using the common tongue.’

Samuel hmm’ed and nodded. ‘How many languages do you know then?’ Samuel asked, leaning on his rake handle.

Lomar thought a moment. ‘Oh…let me see. Turian, some Garten, Old Tongue of course, a dialect or two from the desert folk and several variants of Kabushy.’

‘Kabushy?’

‘That is correct,’ Lomar responded with a slight smile. ‘Kabushy is my mother tongue. I’m sure you realised I am no native Turian. Do you want to hear some Kabushy? Some people say it’s a rattling language, but I think it sounds rather musical.’

‘Yes, of course’ Samuel said with an enthusiastic nod.

‘Sama habala eh tettu a kunna,’ Lomar said.

Samuel laughed so hard he dropped his rake and nearly fell over. ‘That sounds ridiculous! What does it mean?’

‘Roughly, it means, “may the water god protect you”.’

‘Are you trying to trick me?’

Lomar shook his head in all seriousness. ‘Life is hard in Kabush. It’s an enormous delta, filled with marshland and swamps. There is a lot of water, which can be both a blessing and a curse. There are also many gods in Kabush. They are very important in my culture.’

‘You worship gods?’ Samuel asked in disbelief.

‘I occasionally say a prayer or two, but it’s mainly from habit. My people are very religious-not like you dry-footed infidels,’ he added with a grin. ‘I don’t really follow any of my people’s religions any more, but I admit I still revert to some of my old habits from time to time. It can’t hurt, after all. You probably don’t know it, but Amandia had many popular religions until the Emperor erased most of them. The Turian church he established is little more than another outlet to spread Imperial ideals. He is quite set on the fact that everyone only worships him, so I believe.’

‘Shh!’ Samuel urged his tall friend. ‘I’m sure talk like that is not such a good idea.’

Lomar laughed. ‘Don’t worry. I am not such a fool as to let anyone hear. So what of your studies? How are they faring?’

‘Not too poorly, even if I say so myself. I can use the Old Tongue quite fluently now,’ Samuel said. He took up his rake again and scraped half-heartedly at some yellowed leaves that were skittering away with the breeze. ‘I remember learning my first phrase when I was at the Burning Oak, but at the time I had no idea what it was.’

‘I have heard the story from Master Kelvin.’

‘Then you know what happened to me then? At first, I thought it was the words themselves that held the power. Then, as I learned more of the Old Tongue, I realised their true meaning. “I am one with the universe. The universe and I are everything and nothing-everything and nothing, as one, together.” They were just words, and it was I that gave them power, not the other way around, as I thought. They merely helped me to centre my thoughts.’

‘Wise words from someone so young. I hope you continue along your current path, Samuel.’

‘But do any words truly contain magic?’ Samuel asked. ‘There have been few lessons on the topic.’

‘As with all things, there is power in form. Some words have a form that is more powerful than others. They resonate with the ether to give lend to what we call magic. We have a fairly good ability to detect the power of words. For instance, in all the languages that I know, the words for “hate” are harsh and abrasive sounding, while those for “love” are usually gentler in tone. Apart from that, there is little more power in words than the meaning they convey.’

‘What about the Ancient Lick?’ Samuel asked.

‘You know about the Lick?’ Lomar said with surprise.

‘Only very little. I came across a few notes in the library, but there seems to be very little on the subject. It is a lost language. Every word contained immense power.’

‘The ravings of madmen,’ Lomar said dismissively. ‘The Lick was not lost; it was buried. It still exists, but only in the minds of the evil and demented. Do not search for such things, Samuel. Magicians do not speak of the Lick because it is one of the few forbidden topics of the Order. If you found some writings, destroy them and do not look for more.’

‘But-’

‘This is my advice to you, Samuel,’ Lomar said sternly and sounding quite out of character. ‘There are few things so dangerous that we cannot even look or hear or think of them, but the Lick is one.’

Samuel could not help but be disappointed. He had thought perhaps the Ancient Lick would be some new marvellous area for him to study.

‘Now, I would like to stay longer,’ Lomar continued, and his tone had reverted to its usual pleasant self, ‘but I was not even supposed to stop in Cintar. I hope it is not so long before we meet again.’

‘It’s a shame you can’t stay longer.’

‘Yes, I must go. Order business keeps me forever busy. Farewell, Samuel, and good luck with everything.’ Lomar went to move away, then something occurred to him and he stopped.

‘On a serious note, Samuel, you should be wary of some of these men who come to persuade you. Balthazar is an amusing fellow, but some of the others can be dangerous.’

‘I had assumed the same, Lomar. I try to be polite to them and they quickly get the point.’

‘What about the Circle of Eyes? Ah, I see you have heard of them,’ he added upon noting Samuel’s reaction. ‘They are murderers, criminals, thieves and cut-throats, Samuel. Some of them are even magicians. I have yet to see any real proof of their existence, but I do not doubt they do exist, judging from the rumours alone. If you meet them, Samuel, be careful. I hear they do not always take “no” for an answer.’

‘I understand, Lomar. I’ll be careful.’

With that, Lomar bade farewell and gave one of his most beaming smiles. He then strode away, leaving Samuel alone with his yard full of leaves. Samuel sighed and dropped his rake to the ground and he, too, strode off, leaving the task behind. He would wait for a not so windy day.

The weeks seemed to pass as quickly as a single afternoon and, before Samuel knew it, everyone was talking about graduation and readying their spells. As usual, Samuel had been buried in his studies and did not realise the time had sneaked up on him quite so quickly. The apprentices spent the late afternoon busily rehearsing their spells and then putting on their cleanest, most formal robes. They gobbled down their dinners and, as they heard calls out in the yard, they all hurried out across the grounds to gather in the Great Hall. The benches had all been adjusted so as to form concentric circles around a clear space in the middle of the great chamber.

‘I heard the Archmage is coming,’ Eric Pot mentioned, as they squeezed sideways to their seats. The hall was full of excitement and chatter as everyone eagerly awaited the night’s events.

‘I don’t think so,’ Goodfellow corrected. ‘He never comes to things like this. He’s far too busy.’

‘Shh!’ someone urged them from behind, for Grand Master Anthem was readying to speak, and the entire congregation quickly fell silent. The old magician was adjusting his robes and talking to the other teachers seated around him. Then he turned to face the crowd of excited students and Masters alike. They were expecting some sort of long, formal speech, but the old Grand Master surprised them all by saying just a few words.

‘The graduation will now begin,’ he said with a childish grin and promptly sat back down.

Master Dividian then stood, coughed to clear his throat, and began his own address.

‘Welcome, everyone,’ he said, without any hint of amusement. His voice was dry and raspy. ‘Before we begin, I would like to say a few words. Tonight is a special night, for we choose those magicians that are ready to progress to the next stage of their education, be it from apprentice to Adept, or from Adept to Master. By the grace of His Utmost Highness the Emperor of Turia, and under the guidance of Archmage Ordi, the Order of Magicians has long produced the finest standard of magicians in the world. I trust we will continue that tradition tonight as we review some of the finest examples of budding magicians that we have to offer. For those Adept who will be leaving the school soon as Masters of the Order of Magicians, I hope you will always remember to uphold the fine reputation of our school, and remember that everything you do is for the good of the Empire and our most splendid Emperor.’

‘Hear! Hear!’ came a few calls of agreement from the crowd.

‘Damned Imperials!’ Eric whispered, leaning to Samuel’s ear.

Samuel chuckled as Master Dividian continued.

‘So without further delay, let us continue. Who is the first one?’ Dividian was passed a list. ‘Where are we now? Ah, Eric Pot.’

Eric almost leapt from his seat with surprise. He gave Samuel and Goodfellow a mischievous smile as he stood and adjusted his robes, coughing to clear his throat for good measure. He strode regally out into the centre of the Great Hall and waited patiently while Master Dividian continued his discussion with Grand Master Anthem and the other teachers. Finally, Master Dividian returned his attention to Eric, adjusting his spectacles and staring out at the patient apprentice.

‘Eric,’ Master Dividian called out quite loudly, ‘Ebanda totum ara.’

Eric raised an eyebrow and did as he was told, bending down and touching his toes.

‘Very good,’ Dividian continued. ‘Your knowledge of the Old Tongue seems reasonable. Now please demonstrate what you have learned in your time here. I trust you have prepared a suitable spell.’

Eric reached into a pocket and produced a small, sealed pouch. Without a pause, he loosened the drawstring and flicked the contents up into the air. A stream of glittering dust sprayed out, filling the air but, as quick as a flash, Eric had formed a power matrix with one hand and his spell was set. The glittering powder was caught in the spell and instead of spilling down onto the floor, flew up higher towards the beamed ceiling, carried by magic. Eric stood erect, with one hand resting behind his back, and the other held before him, directing his spell with slight movements of his raised finger. The glitter began to gather into long ribbons and began rippling around the ceiling, coiling and darting almost as if it were some golden serpent brought to life. The congregation applauded, clapping their hands together and nodding to each other with approval. Samuel was also greatly impressed. To direct each individual speck of glitter was, of course impossible, but Eric’s spell was ingenious and quite a masterwork of efficiency. Only the head of the spell need be directed and each speck of glitter followed in turn. Samuel applauded as loud as he could, for his friend’s spell was remarkable.

The golden serpent flew sinuously around the ceiling, darting from wall to wall, spinning in circular formations and streaking down around the congregation. Finally, Eric held his small sack aloft and the glittering stream snaked down towards it and darted in as quickly as lightning, disappearing right into the tiny pouch. To finish, Eric made a small bow and the crowd applauded once more. A great grin was set on his face and it was obvious that he, too, was pleased with his own display.

‘Nice work, young man,’ Dividian called out as Eric returned to his seat. ‘I hope the rest of your peers can be as creative.’

Samuel and Goodfellow both patted Eric heartily on the back as he sat down and the next apprentice was called: a boy from Dormitory Two. The other boys were each called one by one, each answering a simple question in the Old Tongue and demonstrating some spell of their own design. Most spells were not nearly as impressive as Eric’s, especially as Samuel had seen most of them practising beforehand, and they had only few surprises. One student made a strong wind so everyone had to hold onto their robes, another cooled the air so everyone was shivering. Chadly Doon made a variety of sounds come from places other than they really did, which was quite novel, but not much more than an extension of a spell they had learned in class. One boy, Mason, attempted to fill the room with the scent of roses, but instead summoned the foul stench of rotting eggs. It caused quite an upset as everyone had to file outside while the Masters cleaned out the air with some spells of their own.

‘Well,’ Dividian announced as they recommenced the proceedings, ‘I’m sure the Order can find some use for that kind of smell-I mean, spell-somewhere.’

At that, everyone broke into laughter, except for poor Mason, who looked even more embarrassed.

So far, Samuel felt somewhat disappointed with the efforts of his peers. Aside from Eric, their spells had been nothing much more complicated than what they had already learned in class. Earlier on, Samuel had felt a little anxious, but now he felt sure his spell would be the greatest of the evening.

‘Samuel!’ Goodfellow whispered beside him. ‘They’re calling you.’

Samuel awoke from his daydreaming with a start and jumped to his feet. He stepped out into the centre of the chamber, trying to walk as gracefully as he could. He had been planning his presentation quite carefully, and so he bowed deeply and hoped it looked as impressive as he envisaged. The audience was quiet and expectant.

‘Samuel,’ Master Dividian began. ‘Answer me this simple question.’ With that, the old man rattled off a series of numbers using the Old Tongue and asked Samuel to add them together.

Samuel only needed a moment to formulate his response. ‘One hundred and forty-seven,’ he answered.

‘Correct,’ Dividian stated coarsely and sat back down in his seat. ‘You may continue,’ he added with a wave of his hand. ‘Show us your spell.’

Samuel called back to Master Dividian before the man had even settled into his seat. ‘But I already have, Master Dividian. What do you think of it?’

‘What nonsense are you talking about?’ Dividian responded. ‘Show us your spell quickly, boy. We don’t have all night.’

Samuel smiled to himself, for Dividian’s response worked perfectly to his advantage. ‘My spell, Master Dividian, is here in plain sight for you all to see. I cast it a few hours ago and everyone seems to be enjoying it greatly.’

Dividian stood up, blinking and looking around with confusion plain on his face. ‘Explain yourself,’ he called to Samuel curtly.

With that, Samuel waved his hand dismissively and the Great Hall vanished around them and everyone found themselves sitting outside in the school grounds. The congregation began murmuring and talking all at once as they struggled to understand what had happened. The moon shone overhead and the cool night air blew upon them. The Great Hall stood some twenty paces away from them and, apart from the fact that they were still sitting on long hard benches, everything else had vanished.

‘You see,’ Samuel began and everyone quietened to listen once more, ‘I set this spell some hours ago as the Adept were arranging the Great Hall. We have been outside all this time. It’s a grand illusion, so I believe.’

Dividian was dumbfounded and his chin bobbed up and down wordlessly as he struggled with what to say, looking left and right, making his woolly beard swing around absurdly. Grand Master Anthem and a handful of other Masters were smiling and Samuel caught a few nods of approval from them.

Feeling the time was right, Samuel waved his hand again and they were all suddenly back inside the hall, walls firmly around them, roof firmly overhead. ‘Or what do you think?’ he asked of the audience. ‘Perhaps that was the illusion after all and we are still really inside?’

Master Dividian began looking around himself feverishly and Samuel could barely contain his amusement. He was about to cast his spell again, when Master Glim stood and interrupted him.

‘Thank you, Samuel,’ Master Glim called out. ‘We get the point. Your illusion is really very convincing, but we don’t want to give poor Master Dividian a heart attack. You can return to your seat now.’

Samuel felt somewhat disappointed, for he had hoped to continue working his spells for a good time yet.

‘That was fantastic, Samuel!’ Eric said adamantly as Samuel returned beside him. ‘I was utterly convinced that we were really outside. Ah…being outside was the illusion, wasn’t it?’

Samuel laughed. ‘Of course. It would be impossible to conduct such a grand illusion as the Great Hall. Someone would be sure to notice it, especially when they went to lean on a wall and fell straight through.’

‘The best part was the subtlety, Samuel,’ Goodfellow mentioned. ‘A cool breeze. Some night birds calling. It was very convincing. You used such a trickle of power for your spell-very efficient and very difficult to detect. Only a few Masters knew what you were up to. I was completely taken in.’

Samuel smiled and went to talk some more, but Master Dividian had recovered his wits and the evening was set to continue.

‘Well, thank you for that amusing interlude, Samuel,’ Master Dividian called out.

Samuel gritted his teeth at this. ‘Old fool,’ he whispered under his breath. ‘Just because he’s too stupid to know a spell when he sees it.’

The remaining boys each had a turn to show their spells, until only one last apprentice remained.

‘And the last apprentice is Eric Goodfellow,’ Dividian finished.

Samuel and Eric both patted their friend on the back as he edged past them and went to the centre of the room. He answered Dividian’s question easily, stating the five Old World regions of Amandia in the Old Tongue. Then, Goodfellow sucked at his bottom lip a moment as he prepared his spell. Readied, he walked to the wall and, to everyone’s surprise, went straight up it until he reached the roof, where he began walking upside-down along it, carefully treading around the various hangings and decorations and stepping through the beams. He continued as the audience watched on, with their necks cranked back and their mouths hanging open, until he strode down the last wall and returned to his starting place in the centre of the chamber. Everyone, including Samuel, clapped enthusiastically as Goodfellow humbly returned to his seat. Samuel had not even suspected that Goodfellow could have had such a spell hidden up his sleeve. Goodfellow had obviously been keeping some of his true talents to himself. Samuel made a mental note to remember the spell and try it himself afterwards.

‘I am speechless!’ Grand Master Anthem announced. ‘Young Eric Goodfellow has produced such a wonderful spell. I’m sure even some of the Masters will be asking him for advice after that.’

Dividian then regained the reins of the event. ‘Now, with the apprentices all finished, it is time for the Adept to come forward and prove they are worthy of being granted the status of Masters of the Order of Magicians.’

The Adept all stood from their seats and filed into the centre of the chamber. As if rehearsed, they began simultaneously, each demonstrating various summoning stances. Their movements were obviously well practised, but some still made a few slight, noticeable mistakes, or were not as proficient as others. They moved between different stances, making variations the apprentices had yet to learn. Samuel sat up straight and paid close attention, for it was fascinating how much extra magic could be summoned with only minor adjustments to the basic summoning stances. The Adept also formed many of the powerful hand-matrices, and occasionally one would shout a word of Old Tongue and their aura would become intensely brilliant. Samuel was impressed that even some of the poorly skilled Adept could increase their power so much-even if it was for only a brief moment.

After a few minutes of this, the Adept all moved to perimeter of the centre space and faced inwards, holding their stances. Some closed their eyes or tensed their jaws in preparation, and Samuel leaned forward expectantly. He suspected that they would each cast some spell, using all the energy they had summoned, but instead they began something different. They began to push their power away from themselves and into the centre of the room. Samuel watched on as they manipulated their individual energies until it combined into one interwoven pool of power. The hairs on Samuel’s arms began to stand up and, looking around the hall, Samuel could see that everyone else was similarly affected. When the pool of magic had been completely formed from all of the Adepts’ power, they released the enormous spell and the magic slowly began to dissipate back into the ether. They had managed to combine all their individual weaves into one greater spell. There was no real purpose to the display other than for demonstration, but Samuel realised it could have immensely useful applications.

‘Wonderfully done,’ Dividian called out to them. ‘A fine example of a Manyspell, symbolically representing the fact that it is not only important that the individuals of the Order be well skilled, but that they can cooperate efficiently.’ The Adept went back to their seats. Most of them looked relieved that their part in the evening’s formalities was done. ‘It is time to congratulate all our students for their hard work, so please-everyone.’ With that, old Dividian began clapping and everyone in the hall quickly followed, making a thunderous noise for several minutes as everyone had thoroughly enjoyed the evening’s demonstrations. Many Masters looked very pleased and congratulated any of the students within reach of them with a brisk shake of hands.

‘And now, if you please.’ It was Grand Master Anthem. He had replaced Dividian and was urging everyone to quieten. Eventually, the applause subsided as he waved his hands about and called for some silence. ‘Ahem,’ he began. He voice was deep and smooth, as opposed to Dividian’s hoarse croaking, and carried to all corners of the hall without the slightest need for him to raise his voice. ‘I think that I must be the most pleased man in this room, for all of you have truly exceeded yourselves tonight. It proves that the Order of Magicians is making great headway, producing the finest standard of magicians. As a small reward for all of you tonight, it is time for some of us Masters to show you a few spells. As is customary, I would like to challenge a few of my old colleagues to a friendly duel of magic.’

At that, five older Masters stood and began making their way down to the front seats near Grand Master Anthem.

‘Who are they?’ Samuel whispered to Eric Goodfellow.

‘Together with Grand Master Anthem, they are the Seven Lions, Eric replied. ‘Well…there’s only six now. They are all Grand Masters and fought in the last battle of the Imperial War.’ Samuel nodded in awe. ‘They say together they are the most powerful magicians in existence.’

Eric Goodfellow leaned over and whispered. ‘If not for them, we’d probably be speaking Garten right now-or so they say.’

A few others nearby began shooshing them, so Samuel returned his attention to the floor. Grand Master Anthem was about to continue his address.

‘Now, we will give a small demonstration,’ he stated simply. ‘Remember that we are quite experienced with all this, and I don’t want any of you trying what you may see here tonight. You’d probably knock your own fool heads off.’

With that, everyone began laughing. Grand Master Anthem stepped out into the centre of the hall and waited, while the first of the Seven Lions stepped out to face him.

‘Jurien,’ Goodfellow whispered, and Samuel nodded in understanding.

Grand Master Jurien did not look like much, for his posture was a little bent with age and his face littered with wrinkles. Indeed, if not for the burning radiance around him, Samuel could easily mistake him for any of the doddering old Masters that spent their days idly in the common room.

The two men bowed to each other and each formed a summoning stance to begin. They began gathering their power, breathing deeply and slowly changing between various stances. Anthem finally settled in a very low, half-sitting stance with his arms held out, palms up, as if he were carrying a great bowl. Samuel could see that Anthem was summoning a vast knot of energy that completely filled the space between his arms, and became greater and greater so that the old man’s hands were beginning to shake with the effort. It was such an immense amount of power to summon so quickly, already far greater than all of the Adept’s combined effort, as if the power was just dropping out of the air into his arms. As the power continued to grow, Anthem put other various spells to work, guiding and melding his magic, crafting it into a concentrated sphere of energy.

Grand Master Jurien was standing side-on, with one palm directed at Anthem, the other hand behind his back. It was an unusual stance that Samuel had never seen before, or even imagined for that matter, as it was unlike most of the traditional stances they had so far been taught. Magic manifested all around the magician’s body and began gathering towards his palm. It was impressive, but Samuel, with his sight, could see the old Grand Master was far outmatched, for Anthem was conjuring power at a much greater rate.

Just then, and unexpectedly, Jurien changed his stance, thrusting both hands as fists towards the Grand Master. Pure energy arced towards the Grand Master, carrying such force that it manifested into the physical realm and formed streams of intense blazing power that streaked Samuel’s vision. The crowd gasped in amazement. Samuel half-expected Anthem to be vaporised by such force, but the bolts struck the Grand Master’s magic sphere and vanished completely, sucked into it like a fly gulped down by a bullfrog. The crowd gasped again and began applauding loudly.

Anthem then retaliated with a sly grin. He drew just a fragment of the energy from between his hands and sent it flying towards Grand Master Jurien, who, taken by surprise, only now began putting up his magical defences. He was far too slow, and Anthem’s spell seized his body and threw him back against the wall with a tremendous cracking sound. The crowd gasped once more in disbelief as Jurien slumped to the ground.

Samuel was thinking the old man was surely dead, but Jurien rolled over with a groan and stood up on wobbly legs. Surprising everyone, the old Grand Master actually began laughing.

‘Ha ha ha, you old devil!’ he called out to Anthem. ‘I can’t believe you beat me so easily this time. Very well. Very well. I yield!’ And with that he strode gracefully to the side and resumed his seat by the others. It took the audience several moments to recover from the shock and then everyone began applauding as hard as they all could. Of course, many of the old Masters had seen this many times, and they merely sat and looked on, making the odd comment to each other. Some even chatted together idly and ignored the scene completely.

Grand Master Anthem bowed modestly to his defeated opponent, all the while keeping his sizzling ball of magic in his upturned palm.

The second of the Seven Lions then strode out confidently and took his place opposite Grand Master Anthem. His robes were long and splendid, having silver adorned hems. Samuel could already see magic bursting from the air all around him as he settled into Simple Stance, standing straight, palms together almost as if in prayer. Anthem did nothing, as his power was already at hand and waited patiently for his opponent to prepare himself.

‘Grand Master Orien,’ Goodfellow whispered.

Samuel was about to ask Goodfellow a question when some magical weaves sprang up right before him and Samuel almost leapt out of his seat with surprise. Then, he realised that some of the other Masters were creating a spell shield all around the audience, to protect them from any harm, should the duelling Grand Masters get carried away.

The air between the two men erupted into a web of weaves as the silver-hemmed Grand Master unleashed a spell. Magic bloomed around them, but was swallowed up just as quickly by Anthem’s magical sphere, saving him from any effect. To all who watched, the men had not moved a muscle, for only Samuel had the ability to see their spells at work. Anthem bore a great toothy grin towards his opponent.

‘Damn you, old man!’ Orien swore out loud and the crowd laughed in glee, for no one else would dare curse the Grand Master so openly. Samuel peered around the hall, for he could feel another spell at work somewhere in the great chamber, but it remained unseen.

‘I will teach you, upstart!’ Anthem declared playfully and began to laugh as he prepared to spell. His laughter, however, vanished as magic burst up from the ground beneath him. Orien’s first spell had been a ruse, while this second spell had been coursing deep beneath the floorboards.

‘Bah!’ Anthem called out as vines exploded around his feet and began entwining his legs. Losing balance, he toppled backwards onto the floor. The whole crowd gasped again and cheered at the amazing sight. Another spell formed and came at Anthem in a heartbeat, but the old man was not beaten yet. His power sphere still hung in the air and gobbled up the new spell as it came near. Anthem called out in the Old Tongue and a swathe of magic swept out from his sphere and turned the vines around his legs to a shower of shreds, bringing further sounds of excitement from the onlookers.

‘I’ll teach you!’ Anthem swore with some mirth, getting back on his feet and dusting off his robes. It was clear he was enjoying the competition.

With that, Orien changed stance and quickly set up a myriad of defensive spells all around, hanging like shields of lightning-white webbing all around him, and prepared himself for the counter-attack. Anthem raised a single finger and a jet of silver magic washed out from his power sphere and engulfed his opponent like a storm of sparks. Samuel gasped and had to shield his eyes as the fury of magic flashed and flickered before him. When he could lower his hands once more, the other students around him were all staring at him with amusement, for, of course, they could see nothing of the brilliant spells. Samuel shrugged and returned his attention to the centre of the room.

Orien was now sitting upon the floor, defeated. Samuel could see that his power had been completely extinguished.

‘Good job, old man,’ he spoke. ‘Maybe next time?’

‘Bah! I don’t think so,’ Anthem returned in good humour, his voice rich and deep. ‘Perhaps next time you will make me try a little harder.’

The crowd cheered as Grand Master Orien returned to his seat. It was a much less interesting affair for them, Samuel realised, for no one else could see what was actually going on. To them, the two men had faced each other, vines had grappled Anthem to the ground, which then fell apart, and then Anthem’s opponent had taken his turn to fall over, leaving him defeated. Samuel actually felt sorry for them for missing out on such a great display of magic. He was enjoying every moment.

The third Lion took his turn to face Anthem and he entered the makeshift arena with the aid of a short walking stick. Samuel sniggered to himself, for it was at once obvious to him that this man was, in fact, an illusion. The real old Grand Master had cloaked himself in spells of concealment and was tiptoeing around behind Anthem with a look of great amusement on his face. The entire crowd had their eyes on the illusion, which began touching its toes and limbering up quite comically. The crowd all laughed at the sight of this old man readying for battle. Samuel peered amongst the Masters in the audience to see if any were aware of the ruse, but all had their eyes set squarely on the illusion.

‘Are you ready?’ Anthem asked.

‘Oh, yes, yes,’ replied the illusion, and instantaneously a blast of power exploded from Anthem’s sphere, not towards the illusion as everyone expected, but directly behind, slamming the true magician to the floor.

The crowd all cried out in awe once more as the true old Grand Master was suddenly revealed, with scraps of spell and shadow falling to the floor around him. He coughed and waved his hands in front of his face as his concealment spells literally began going up in smoke.

Anthem clucked his tongue and shook his head. ‘Surely, you can do better than that? That’s the same old trick as last year!’

‘Ah,’ the other Grand Master croaked. ‘I was sure I would have you this time, you canny swine!’ And with that he climbed to his feet with the help of his walking stick and hobbled from the scene.

‘So much for Grand Master Tudor,’ Goodfellow whispered.

Anthem made a great show of yawning and the crowd laughed and cheered as the fourth of the Seven Lions stood and entered the area. He was much younger than the others, with just wisps of grey in his hair, and he appeared muscular and strong. Samuel knew him as Grand Master Gallivan.

Anthem began replenishing his magical sphere and this made Samuel think that Grand Master Gallivan must be quite powerful. Gallivan formed a very strange, twisted stance, with both his hands having their thumbs and forefingers out, as if trying to crush two large walnuts. Brilliant arcs of magic flashed into being between these fingers and the man was surrounded in a halo of white-hot light. Samuel subdued his sense of sight and watched on in awe.

‘Very nice!’ Anthem stated. ‘Such power is truly wondrous to feel. I wonder how well you can use it.’

With that, a flurry of minor spells struck at Gallivan, disintegrating harmlessly.

‘Oh, come on!’ Gallivan retorted calmly. ‘I’m not going to fall for that!’

Samuel realised these first spells had been to test Grand Master Gallivan’s mettle-like clapping your hands in someone’s face to see if they blink.

Anthem then sent much more powerful magic surging at Gallivan: a series of intense spells in quick succession that flashed towards him. Gallivan, however, easily matched each one, somehow sensing their intent and matching them with counter spells, allowing him to save his spell-shields for later in the competition. The air popped as each spell vanished from existence. When all was done and the spells had vanished, Samuel could feel that some strange magic still remained. He barely noticed at first as his sense of sight was subdued so much, but he could feel the spell just on the edge of his perception. A thin creeper of magic was stretching out from Anthem’s power sphere and snaking slowly across the floor, where it carefully latched onto Gallivan’s radiant aura.

‘How intriguing,’ Samuel muttered to himself, for the spell began sucking away at Gallivan’s strength, leeching at his magic like a parasite and sending it back into Anthem’s own magical sphere.

‘My turn,’ Gallivan said, and an enormous spell birthed before him. It almost felt as if it bore a great physical weight and Samuel’s eyes opened wide. He felt giddy for a moment and had to hold firm to his seat for fear he would fall forwards out of it.

Samuel just had time to see Anthem raise his hands to protect himself before the air transformed into a maelstrom of fire, roaring and blistering the air. All in the crowd also gasped and many stood ready to flee or else covered their faces, but the flames struck the magic barrier before them and no one could be harmed. For long moments, the scene was a hellish storm of incredible roaring fire that raced around the chamber. When the flames had slowly subsided, everyone cocked their heads or stood from their seats to try survey the scene. As the smoke slowly dissipated, Gallivan could be seen first. He had changed stances and now had his arms thrust out towards Anthem, but he was breathing quickly and his face was coated with a film of sweat. His magic was severely diminished and he looked greatly weakened.

Anthem then slowly became visible as the chamber cleared. He was shrouded by a twisting curtain of smoke. Then, by magic, the smoke fell away as if turned to dust and the old Grand Master began laughing heartily. He surprised everyone when he actually began clapping his hands.

‘Well done, Grand Master Gallivan!’ he spoke. ‘Such a great spell! I was hardly prepared. Where did you come up with that?’

Anthem’s power sphere was now larger than ever, pulsing and seething with raw magic-a good percentage of which was no doubt gained from Gallivan. It now hung above the Grand Master’s head like a huge, devilish halo and was pulsing as if with its own life.

‘I made that one especially for you,’ Gallivan responded, panting and obviously exhausted. ‘I’m just sorry it wasn’t quite what you were looking for.’

‘That was quite an impressive effort, well worthy of something in return,’ Anthem announced and he paused only momentarily to form a spell. There was a hint of sweat beading on the old man’s forehead and Samuel was relieved to see that Anthem was not totally invincible. It seemed he was finally starting to tire.

There was a strange snap in the air, as if some enormous length of wood had been cracked crisply in two, but no one else apart from Samuel seemed to have noticed it. Then, a great gasp came from the crowd as a fiery form began to appear on the floor. Its substance seemed to be gathered from the air around it; blazing flames burst from the air and gathered together more and more until a shape became apparent. It was a hound of sorts, yet somehow formed of fire itself. It had hellish red eyes and, when it snarled, fiery saliva dripped from its maw to hiss on the floor. It surveyed the scene around it slowly and deliberately. Everyone in the audience sat back in their seats nervously. A spell was set about the thing like a manacle and Samuel guessed it was to keep the creature under control, for this was no mere illusion. Such summoned things were powerful and unpredictable. It took an equally powerful spell to bind it to the summoner’s will.

Gallivan’s resolve fell apart at the sight of the creature slowly stepping towards him. ‘Very well, very well! I concede!’ he called out to Anthem, standing up straight and waving his hands in surrender. He was laughing, but with a good amount of desperation in his voice. Samuel could see that he was attempting to form some magical barriers, but his power had waned and his spells could not form true. The man now looked completely emptied.

Anthem nodded with a sly smile and released his spell. The creature at once flashed out of existence, leaving four wisps of smoke where its feet had been touching the timber floor.

Gallivan looked ready to collapse. ‘I cannot face such power,’ he stated. ‘I commend you Grand Master Anthem. You are truly great.’

‘Thank you, Grand Master Gallivan,’ Anthem returned. ‘I look forward to another challenge soon-after you get some well-needed practice.’

With that, the defeated Gallivan walked on wobbling legs back to his seat and virtually collapsed into it.

‘One more,’ Anthem called out to the audience. ‘Then we can relax and have dinner. Grand Master Du, if you will.’

The last Grand Master looked absolutely ancient. He would have been very tall, had age not bent him half-over, and he peered through a veil of long white eyebrows. His wispy white beard obscured his shirt front, and he wore a tall pointed hat, making him appear to be like a magician from some folktale. He half-hobbled on a twisted old cane that seemed entirely unsuitable for the job.

‘Very well, Grand Master,’ he spoke, with a surprisingly youthful voice. ‘Let us begin then so I can put you in your place. It’s time I showed these young fools how it’s done.’

Both seemed to know what was to come, and the two magicians stood opposite each other and began to cast their spells. Strange, knotted weaves began filling the air between the two men. It began simply like that, with each man throwing up a small spell of his own and then one to match his opponent’s. Each spell they cast was slightly greater than the last, so that the magic between them was growing in intensity and complexity. It was almost as if they were playing a game of spell and counter-spell.

‘The Magician’s Game,’ somebody whispered and it was passed along. Samuel nodded to himself. He had heard of this, but it was his first time to witness it.

To all around, the two magicians were motionless, but Samuel could see they were busy throwing out spell after spell to join the great conglomeration between them. More and more power filled the arena as more spells were formed and added to the sum. Some spells countered others and they both vanished, while others locked each other firmly in place. These spells remained, and their presence added to the complexity of the whole. Samuel began to realise that the entire scene was becoming two enormous opposing spells, interlocked and set to break the other. The opponents had to be quick-witted and experienced in every way, for they could not see any dangers approaching, as Samuel could, but had to depend on vast experience to sense what spells were summoned and how to match them.

Curiously, however, Samuel noted that each spell was double-cast: cast again upon itself, inside out. He had never seen such a thing and wondered why they would do it like that. Perhaps it was some secret method of the Grand Masters’ for making their spells more powerful. It must have some great purpose, for casting in such a manner was twice as slow as usual.

Quicker and quicker, the two men summoned their power and cast out spell after spell into the matrix of magic. The ancient old Grand Master Du looked almost lifeless, although his lips quivered as he murmured to himself and his fingers trembled on his cane, as if they gestured at his spells ever so slightly.

Anthem, however, began to have a slightly worried expression, and Samuel was sure he could see more sweat running down the man’s brow. His magical sphere was now only melon-sized and it was quickly diminishing.

A movement caught Samuel’s eye, and a tentacle of magic was once again creeping across the room. It affixed itself to the ancient Grand Master Du and at once began to draw out his energy. Old Anthem now bore a hint of optimism.

Some students began to yawn as time wore on, for it seemed the two old men were standing idly. Samuel, however, was fascinated by the complex battle of spells at work. Even the older Masters, content to sit at the back of the hall and chat all night, were now watching on eagerly, for this was finally something they were interested in. They could feel all the spells at work and appreciate the high degree of skill involved. They chatted enthusiastically and commented on the tactics in use. Samuel only wished he could hear what they were saying.

Then, like water spontaneously breaking through a riverbank, Grand Master Du’s spells began collapsing back towards him. Anthem’s magic destroyed each one of Grand Master Du’s spells that it touched, quicker and quicker as his spells surged forward. In the last instant, Grand Master Du yelped in effort and stepped back, using his last scraps of magic to throw up a great shielding spell that Samuel could barely have managed given a day. Anthem’s spells crashed as one into the old man’s barrier and the room boomed with thunder, causing the solid beams overhead to groan and creak. The air itself warped and shuddered as Grand Master Du was engulfed by magic. Samuel thought the frail, old man would surely be vaporised, but when the spells had all subsided, the old man merely groaned and climbed back to his feet with the aid of his cane.

‘Oh, bugger!’ the old man swore with obvious annoyance and the entire hall began laughing out loud.

Samuel was dumbfounded. Surely such power should have destroyed the old man’s body, but then he realised: the double-casting! Normally, such great magic would have destroyed any living thing, but their spells were double-cast. The second, inverse spell was a mirror image of the first, resulting in a spell that would negate itself upon realisation. In this way, two magicians could obviously play the Magician’s Game without fear of physical injury. It was ingenious!

‘Congratulations, Anthem, you scoundrel’ Grand Master Du said. ‘You beat me again! I don’t know how you do it, but I’ll best you yet one day!’ And with that he hobbled back to his seat

‘Very well,’ Anthem then said to the audience. He had released the remains of his magical sphere and it was now floating up by the ceiling where it was rapidly dissipating. ‘I hope you all learned something tonight. I trust all the new Adept will realise they don’t have long left here in the School of Magic and will apply themselves to their studies with all their fortitude. For those Adept who have graduated tonight, I want to welcome you as Masters of the Order of Magicians. You have a great responsibility upon your shoulders. The Order was founded anew at the end of the Imperial War, so that magic could become a symbol of civilisation and a tool of peace for all of Amandia. We live by the grace of our great Emperor, but remember always that magic is for the better good of man. Let us remember that magic should only be used in the defence of peace and that one magician should never use magic against another.’

With that, the shield spell around them was released and Samuel realised the graduation was over. The audience began to file outside, but Samuel’s head was full of all the spells he had seen that night. He was full of excitement and twitching to find some time alone so he could begin practising everything he could remember. Most intriguing of all was Grand Master Anthem’s devious spell of sapping. It was a truly ingenious method to beat almost any magician, even if they were more powerful. In fact, the more powerful they were, the better, as it meant there was more power for the taking. It seemed that Grand Master Anthem was truly the most powerful magician in the Empire.