“Oh don’t be silly, it’s not proper to call it a journey, it will only take a moment.” She looked around the small place with care. “Take your things and give me your hand!” she commanded.
I obeyed.
“Master Ghaeloden, I believe you know how to make this place secure and hide it from prying eyes. As soon as Nuuk is ready, we shall meet where we agreed.” Without waiting for a reply, nor a warning to myself, her hand squeezed mine with mountain-like force and all I heard was an echo of her voice saying, ‘Spectra!’
I have only once, in my sixteen years of existence, experienced the hallucinatory outcome of strong drink, and that had not been a pleasant affair. It had been during the grape harvest, some two or three years back, when me and my brothers had been asked to watch the giant oak-barrels that were to be transported to the cellars. The smoky-smelling, charred barrels had been filled to the very top with a sweet winemust that was later to be used for the strong wine in part and in part to be left to become vinegar. Driven by our keen curiosity and the very sweet smell of the red liquid, we had tried our luck with a mug or two. We soon had come to regret it. Its illusory, reeling effects had only arrived after the second mug, making our heads spin wildly and lasting until the very next day. We had promised then, amid persistent sickness, that we’d never drink again.
Compared to that day, the shifting Naghnatë performed made me feel tenfold worse. My head felt like it had spun for an entire day and I couldn’t stop regurgitating the vegetable soup. The muscles in my belly ached from spasmodic contractions and it felt like a lifetime before the foul sensation loosened its grip on the back of my throat.
Slowly I let go of the floor and turned on my back; an undertaking in itself, and rested there, pleased that the spinning fleetingly diminished.
“Water!” I perceived the blurred figure of the witch somewhere on my left side.
She brought me a mug of fresh water and helped me gulp it down, only lifting my head slightly.
“Th- Thank you!” I let out, strained by the effort of keeping my neck tense.
I closed my eyes and only opened them when my body felt it could handle some movement. With the first blink, I could finally make some sense of where I was. The space was dark, the only source of light the firelight that bounced on the dark-grey stones that surrounded us. We were inside a cave of some sort. I could feel the damp air permeate the small space and the cold stone at the back of my head.
What is with the witch and suffocating spaces? I thought, realising the unusual aspect of her habitations.
A draught made the sweaty hair under my nape send cold tendrils across my body and as I turned my head to the right, I could see a big, irregular boulder blocking an entrance almost completely. The imperfect door allowed a small opening in one of the upper corners, from which the breeze was invading the cave. The small aperture allowed me to catch a glimpse of tiny sparkles up in the dark-blue sky and I could tell outside was ruled by a cold, cloudless night.
I gathered all my strength and, feeling less disoriented, I looked around and studied the small space. The uneven shape of the cavern was made in such a way that the left side was sharp-cornered and the right side was curved and more spacious, near the entrance. An irregular pear-shaped space where at the tip there was a fireplace and a bed, sculpted in the raw rock, with hay straw as a mattress. The fireplace where the witch was already boiling some water was less fanciful than the one in the snowy-slopes’ hut, with a simple hole in the rock that allowed the smoke to escape. But the space was stocked with all the necessary for our stay; cooking pots, various tools and plenty of dry firewood that’d warm the space restlessly for an entire week. In the same corner, nails and small wooden wedges had been pushed inside the walls, between cracks and crevices, and were holding dried meat, herbs and other supplies I did not recognise. The one plant I could distinguish, was the dried, yellow-rattle that the witch decided to prepare a tea with and was slowly wafting its way inside the dank cave, invading my nostrils.
I slowly lifted myself to a sitting position, slipping one hand in my own vomit.
“Ewww,” I cried out, hearing my echo bounce between the rock walls. “Yuck, that is disgusting!”
“Yes, it is, and it’s all yours! The only thing that’s mine there is the soup!” The witch started to laugh. “Be a sport and clean that up, will you?”
She tossed me a ragged cloth and kicked a twig broom towards me. I did my best to clean away the poorly-digested soup before washing myself and joining her by the fire.
The dancing orange light of the fire cast soft and dark shadows upon the cold stone, and her candid giggle caused by my mucky face appeared like an evil spectre elongating over the walls.
I blinked away the ghastly image and diverted my thoughts. “Had this ever happened to you?”
“Ha! I think I’ve had it worse, I’m afraid. I had to break many bones before I finally mastered this peculiar skill. Yet, I must be honest, you did rather well on the landing. It’s the waking up that needs some practice!” She let out another chuckle.
I was starting to improve from my wooziness and her joke made me chuckle too.
“We have few days before Nuuk and Ghaeloden make it here and, when they arrive, you three will go to the citadel, while I’ll try to force out that old crook from the safety of his stronghold. During the next few days I will get you ready for any unpleasant encounter in Arkhanthï. Also would be good to get to know more about you and Winterhorn, what do you say?” her expression was stern.
“I would like that, though I am afraid I’ve told you all I know!”
“I would still like to hear it one more time.” She extended her thin hand towards me. “If you do not mind, could I hold it for a moment?”
I grabbed it from my backpack and gave it to her. She examined it with care for a long time, my warming hands and body appreciating her slow inspection.
“Marvellous how pure magic works!” she stated. “Typically, magic is perceivable through the air especially if one comes in physical contact with the wielder or any magical object, yet these tokens emit nothing of the sort to be seen or felt in estranged hands. Marvellous indeed!” She handed it back to me and as soon as I touched it, the reviving tingle spread throughout my body with a refreshed intensity and vibrancy I hadn’t felt before.
She must’ve have seen my fingers twitch, because she was surprised by my reaction. “It grows more accustomed to you! And the more it does, the more powerful it becomes as you’ll fully understand its strengths and acquaint yourself with it.” She picked two earthen-mugs from a wooden crate, which appeared out of thin air.
I did not have time to issue a word.
“Nothing is at is seems, child! Do you think I like to live in empty, rotten, bad-smelling huts or caves without all the necessary to live decently or enjoy a warm, delicious cup of tea? No, sir! I hide my places as well as my personal objects, so nobody knows where they. Often they are right in front of their noses.” Her laughter was contagious.
The flowery scent that permeated the cave was now wafting under my face, between my hands in the hot mug of tea.
“Now, what do you recall from your encounter with the bear?”
I was silent for a moment, envisioning how the event unfolded.
As I proceeded forward in my memory, it felt like I was there again, living the same moments. Particulars that I hadn’t recognised at first, came back with ease and clarity and my heart started beating faster as I finished talking. She remained silent for a moment with the thin fingers of her right hand tapping on the back of her left.
“I wonder why the voice?” she then said pensively. “Nevertheless, you found out, by mistake and under mortal threat, that you and the token are bound together. However, if that bear had been a wizard or even an acolyte, I am afraid you wouldn’t have survived. That’s why you need to be prepared. We do not have much time so I can’t see any reason why we should delay your introduction into proper magic.”
/> The suggestion tickled my curiosity.
“Up, up! There you go! Magic…” She was talking and moving with the same enthusiasm I witnessed in her, when Nuuk had performed his trial, “… is everything around us; the air, the water, the fire and the earth and therefore any living being. Magic can give you anything! Anything at all, with just one word, but it can also take everything you gained in your entire lifetime with a misspoken one.” Her eyes fixed on mine, making me startle for a moment.
I picked up that her intentional pauses were meant for me to take a mental note of what she was saying, and I made sure to remember, the importance of words.
“Luckily for us, you don’t know any, except the one you were told when slaying the bear. And since I do not know its true origins nor meaning, so far, I advise you to pay close attention to the few I will teach you!”
“Is really anyone able to learn magic?” I was unaware of any stories or books that mentioned common people being capable of learning magic.
“Well of course! If anyone had a magical item about them and with the proper education.”
A subdued titter escaped me as I noticed the similarity between her and Nana – whenever I pestered her with my queries and she’d become annoyed.
“So, the most sensitive thing to do with you is to try and teach you four spells, which are mainly aimed at protecting oneself rather than attack. You will have to learn to avoid conflict, not create it!”
That brief pause was totally meant for another note; defence, not attack.
“You’ll have to understand what your opponent’s main element is; air, water, fire or earth. There are not many wizards around than can wield more than one element at a time, except perhaps Felduror. And I dare hope you’ll not be unlucky enough to meet him face to face because there wouldn’t be much you could do anyway.”
“Hold on one moment! Do you mean that if I meet Felduror I die?”
“I doubt he would kill you for sport. You are not a real threat to him. What’s important is, to make sure you aren’t seen.”
The nervous cough I gave was emphasised by the uneasiness on my face. I could tell by her worrying face and sudden change of tone.
“That’s why you and Nuuk must carry the sceptre at all times. I wouldn’t send you to meet your deaths if I didn’t know it could actually work now, would I?” She tried to reassure me. “Besides, Felduror will be distracted by me and therefore the castle will be deprived of its most powerful wizard. It’s going to be all fine, trust me!”
That was certainly something I hadn’t accounted for and was undeniably alarming, yet curiously, not as threatening as it would have appeared to me a few days ago. Had it not been for what I’d witnessed Nuuk capable of, I would have run away immediately. If I still had my doubts about Naghnatë, I felt at least the imp was someone I could count on and trust. The moment I laid my eyes on the odd, friendly-faced creature, I knew there was something different about him.
The thought encouraged me to stay. Also, I did not have the strength nor the heart to cower at this point; it was easier to continue to listen to her and satisfy my voracious curiosity.
“So when Nuuk made the fire’s flames escape the stove, that was his ability to wield the element of fire, is that correct?”
She seemed pleased by my evasion. “Indeed it was, but Nuuk is an Iprorim and his race can master any of the elements. You’ve seen what he did right afterwards, and there haven’t been no flames as I recall!” she said. “If a wizard throws fireballs you are correct to assume he is mastering the fire element, though the air element wielders could gather wind to move the fire and that could be easily mistaken by an untrained eye such as yours,” she pointed out.
“And how would I –”
A palm lifted in the air interrupted me. “Happily, there are spells to disclose one’s core powers, and easy enough to master. Listen and carefully repeat after me!”
Shorter than me by a full head, Naghnatë fixed her glare on me and placed both hands on my chin saying, “Revherio!”
“Reverio!” I said imperfectly.
“Almost. Re-vhe-ri-o!” She emphasised each syllable with her mouth.
“Revherio!”
Her smile of agreement confirmed that this time I got it right.
“Important to know; you will have to be rather close to the one you are trying to scrutinise and the key to this spell is to make sure you keep eye contact at all times when casting it.”
Keep eye contact at all times when casting spells. I made another mental note without interrupting.
“There is no need to speak the words loudly as long as the word is spoken correctly in your mind and meant with all your heart!” the witch continued.
“How would I know if it worked?” I asked, confused.
“Ooh, you’ll know when a spell has worked. Never doubt the power of magic.” She moved towards the entrance. “Now, I would like to show you a few examples of spells for different elements. Then, I will tell you the spells to defend yourself from each of them. Whenever you feel ready, we can put your learning to the test.”
Although I appreciated what she was trying to do, I did not feel quite ready to cast any magic. A palpable pain rushed through my body and made me falter as memories of my tussle with the bear came to mind. They were as exciting as they were frightful and I dreaded to feel that sense of weakness again. Even my sore and blistered hands seemed to disagree with her plan. Still, I could not say no.
For a moment, she closed her eyes and brought her ten fingers up, tip to tip. When she opened her eyes again, they had lost the vivid-blue irises and turned completely black. A fearsome sight, I admitted.
Once she separated her fingers’ tips, a small vortex of white-grey clouds started spinning between her palms, distorting and contorting everything behind the flow of energy.
“What element am I wielding?” Her voice sounded altered, deeper and sterner and it made her more frightening than the old, helpless woman she had appeared as before.
“Air!” I replied.
“Very well!” She spread out her hands in a circle around her figure, making the fast-spinning sphere of clouds expand until it completely died out.
I covered my eyes swiftly, feeling the squall of wind travelling inside the cave with haste. It made the fire jolt perilously inside the little stove and blew my hair wildly.
“And now?” Her voice drew my gaze back to her.
In the same posture, between her palms, a small spinning-sphere of water was waving and splashing ravenously as a sea in the middle of a storm.
This is easy! I thought and smiled.
“Water!” I replied with overconfidence.
“Wrong!” Suddenly the angry water turned to a burning sphere of fire, dripping loud-steaming drips of hot scorching lava on the rock floor.
“It is fire and you better be paying attention to every sign because if I were your enemy you would’ve melted by now!” Her angry words made her seem even more petrifying as she released the spell into nothingness.
“How could I tell the difference?” I was confused.
“If you had looked more closely at the very beginning you would’ve seen a small detail, an unmistakable sign. Remember? Eye contact at all times. Now try again!”
I fixed my eyes on her fingers and concentrated to see what I missed. Her fingers slowly touched together and she closed again her eyes.
I did not blink.
A small bend on her fingers gave away the moment at which she would separate her palms, so I strained my eyes harder. I was so tense and absorbed that I could not hear any sounds.
And then I saw it. Just before her last two fingers separated, a small spark of light pulsated to life between her palms. Then the same liquid sphere started growing, just like before, between her opened palms, floating freely in the middle.
It has to be that.
“I saw a tiny spark!” I said.
She let the liquid vanish in thin air and moved closer to m
e, her eyes turning blue again. “Yes, that was it! Sparks make fire in real life and so it is for magic. Magic only makes it quicker and without apparent effort. The liquid is what fuels the fire, yet it has to originate from fire itself in order to be concealed in something else. If that had been water, there would’ve been a drop at the very beginning. For earth it would be a small speck of rock or dirt whilst for air, it’s air itself and therefore nothing to be seen and easy to recognise. Air is very difficult to hide which is why air spells are easier to master.”
It started to make a bit of sense.
“Now, let’s get you ready!” She took my hands in hers. “I will teach you four defensive spells, that are just as effective as the most complicated ones. All of them start with the same word; ‘Arhea’, an ancient term for protection.” Her pause suggested she’d like me to repeat.
“Arhea!”
“Very good! The second part of the spell refers to the element it is trying to counter. So, we have ‘tcha’ for earth, ‘ulah’ for water, ‘hia’ for air and ‘ignat’ for fire.
“Tcha-Ulah-Hia-Ignat!” I said confidently.
“Heh,” she giggled, “never thought of it that way. Perfect! So, therefore we have; Arhea-tcha, Arhea-ulah, Arhea-hia, Arhea-ignat.”
She made it sound easy and, after few times of repeating it and listening to her again, I memorised them all.
“Time to see how they work, shall we? It is important to remember that they’ll last as long as your strength and concentration allow. Whenever you feel ready, I will release the spell. You better be prepared when that happens!” She made it clear there would be consequences if I became distracted, and thinking how reluctant she was on performing healing spells I knew I’d better pay attention.
The same routine applied; a few steps towards her wielding position and the change of her gaze to the emotionless stone-faced appearance with dark eyes and deep voice.
“We will start with the easiest one.”
Air.
My heart started beating as fast as it could and I gulped nervously focusing on repeating the fours spells in my mind.
Winterhorn (Tokens Of Benevolence Book 1) Page 25