Will didn’t have an answer to that, so he just stared back blankly.
“Would you like to know what plant you so foolishly ingested today?” asked his grandfather.
“Sure,” said Will meekly.
Arrogan flipped the Herbal closed and reopened it at the beginning. “This table at the front subdivides plants into groups. Was the plant deciduous?”
Will nodded and answered several more questions before his grandfather pointed at the book again. “It will be here, in either chapter fourteen or fifteen. I should make you look through them, but I won’t bother. Go to page seventy-two.”
Flipping through the pages Will softly recited the numbers to himself.
“I’ll give you a hint,” growled Arrogan. “It’s between seventy-one and seventy-three.”
Will looked up sharply. “I know that!” His angry response earned him a malicious grin from his mentor. I should know better than to let him get to me, thought Will. Finding the page at last, he laid the book down and studied the picture and its description. It definitely looked like the plant he had found. It even mentioned the square shape of the stem. “Diver’s sage,” he said, reading the name aloud.
“Diviner’s Sage, moron,” corrected his grandfather. “It’s a powerful psychedelic. The early shamans used it to see visions, although personally I think they just liked feeling weird. The important thing for you to know is that it opens the mind, allowing you to see things normally invisible to the eye. For those who are already sensitive, or those who have had extensive training, that effect is permanent.”
“Oh,” said Will, unsure what to say.
“This is just one of several plants and mushrooms that teachers use to initiate their students into the arcane arts,” explained Arrogan. “I already knew you were sensitive, which is why I took you in, hoping to prevent this. But you, in your infinite idiocy, took it upon your shoulders to turn yourself into a mage. There’s no going back for you now.”
Alarmed, Will asked, “I can’t go home?”
Arrogan covered his face with one hand. “Of course, you can go home. I dream of sending you there every day. You can’t go back to being normal.”
That didn’t sound too bad. “Does this mean I can do magic now?”
His grandfather sighed. “You have several choices. One, you can go home, which would almost be a relief, because so far, you’ve been more trouble than you’re worth. If you do, I’ll start packing, since I don’t want to be around when they find you and execute you as a warlock, which is almost certainly what they’ll decide. Proof or no proof. Two, and slightly less stupid, you can go to Cerria and present yourself before the Royal Magister, Grant Haywood. He’s the idiot running the Wurthaven College of Wizardry these days. After a few tests, he’d put you in classes and eventually you’d get to be a lapdog for one of the noble sorcerers running things nowadays.”
Arrogan leaned back, lacing his fingers behind his head. “Personally, I like that option the best, since it means I’ll be quit of you and I won’t have to worry about moving.”
Will could sense the old man wasn’t finished, so he prompted him, “But…?”
His grandfather sighed. “The third option is the best for you, but a pain in the ass for me. Stay here and I’ll train you properly. The only drawback is you’ll still be an unlicensed mage, so if they catch you later, you’ll wind up in prison at best.”
“How is that better for me?” exclaimed Will querulously.
The old man grinned evilly. “Because by the time I’m done with you, there won’t be a mage alive, sorcerer or otherwise, capable of putting you in prison. I can teach you to be a wizard the likes of which even King Lognion would be afraid to face—or would, if any of the fools knew what real wizards could do back in my day.”
That reminded Will of one of his longstanding questions. “Exactly when was your day?”
Chapter 13
Arrogan leaned forward. “Before I answer that, I have to know whether you plan to go to Cerria or train under me.”
Will spoke before he thought. “It’s because they’re hunting you, isn’t it?”
“And that, my boy, has sealed your fate. You have sharp ears, don’t you?”
“I heard you and Mom talking,” admitted Will.
His grandfather grimaced. “Well, options one and two are off the list now.”
He was beginning to feel slightly rebellious. “And what if I would rather study in the city?”
“Do you really want to test my patience, boy?” asked the old man, an angry gleam in his eye. “You saw what happened today. How many wizards do you think would dare to tweak the nose of one of the fae lords? Do you think any of the glorified sanitation workers that come out of Wurthaven would dare? They’d be pissing their pants at the thought! If you think anything that happened today was commonplace, let me be the first to disabuse you of that notion.”
Will let out a long exhale, deflating. He really didn’t know what to think about what had happened, nor did he have any idea how dangerous a fae lord might or might not be. As far as he knew, they might be pushovers. But he strongly suspected they weren’t.
And Elthas had taken all of Arrogan’s insults and abuse and then just let them walk away. That couldn’t be normal. He studied his grandfather with new eyes. Just how dangerous was the old man?
“Are you really going to teach me?” asked Will at last. “You still haven’t taught me anything about herbs. Will you really teach me magic?”
Arrogan thumped his hand on Gidding’s Apothecary. “This book contains recipes for medicines and potions. There are other books that contain spells. You have to be able to read them. Not only that, but you’ll need to learn a new alphabet, the runes of power, in order to work those spells.”
Will groaned.
“Yes, I’ll teach you,” finished his grandfather, ignoring Will’s moaning. “But you’ll learn things in the proper order.”
He nodded. “All right. Doesn’t seem like I have much choice.” Then he remembered his earlier question. “So when was your day again?”
The old man yawned. “I’m getting tired.” He stood up, as though to retire to his bedroom.
“You said you’d tell me!” protested Will.
Arrogan sat back down, grinning at Will’s frustration. “Somewhere around four hundred and fifty years ago.”
“You’re four hundred and fifty years old!” yelled Will, jumping up and knocking his chair over.
His grandfather shook his head. “No. That’s when my day was, if by that you mean the period when I was at my peak, before the so-called Terabinian War of Independence.”
“Then how old are you?” demanded Will.
“Still none of your damn business,” replied Arrogan. “If you ever learn to cook something that doesn’t make my stomach churn, I’ll think about telling you.”
***
The next day, after breakfast and his obligatory two hours of reading practice, Arrogan called him over. “Let’s see your candle.”
Will held it up. The flame was brighter today, but it still hadn’t recovered completely from Tailtiu’s kiss.
“You’ve spent plenty of time observing it as you go about your tasks,” said Arrogan. “Since you’re a mage now, it’s time for you to learn to control it. Here’s a question for you. Why is the flame still so small?”
That was easy. “Because I still haven’t regained my normal amount of turyn.”
His grandfather shook his head. “No, the real reason is because you’re ignorant, but I’ll try to correct some of that today.” Then he added, “Try not to scream; this is for your own good.”
“Why would I scr—” Will’s voice cut off as a vivid green line of power shot from Arrogan’s fingers and straight into his chest. He felt it bore into him, and while the sensation wasn’t painful, it was distinctly unpleasant. Then he stopped breathing.
Panic rapidly overtook him as he tried and failed to make his lungs work. Seconds ticked by,
and his grandfather watched him with the same sort of faint disinterest an evil child might display while squashing ants. Finally, the old man spoke. “I’m not controlling your muscles. Look at the candle.”
The flame had turned green.
“Trying to make your muscles obey you won’t work,” said Arrogan. “First you have to make the candle return to its normal color.”
Will’s heart was pounding in his ears, and his face first grew red, then purple. He was beginning to see spots when suddenly his grandfather waved his hand and his lungs began working again. The candle was still burning green.
“I suppose you won’t learn anything if I let you suffocate,” said his grandfather. The green line of light still connected his fingers to Will’s chest. “Right now, I have absolute control over your turyn. I can do anything I want with you. Your lungs take in air at my command. Your heart beats because I allow it. I could kill you with a thought.” The old man reached back and began earnestly scratching his backside, seeming to have forgotten his grandson entirely.
When he looked back, there was a vicious intensity in his eyes. “It’s disconcerting, isn’t it? You feel helpless, violated. Those are perfectly normal feelings, but if you want them to stop, you’ll have to learn. Watch the flame.”
The candle flared, and Will felt a surge of energy. He couldn’t remember ever feeling quite so alive. It was as though his body was bursting with vitality. The flame was now twice its normal size.
“That turyn didn’t come from me,” said Arrogan. “Just in case that’s what you were thinking. It came from you. I’m just controlling it. Everything I am about to show you are things you are capable of doing for yourself, once you learn how.
“The turyn in our bodies comes from a limited source. Think of it as the candle. Make it burn faster, and the candle shortens more quickly, while the flame grows brighter. Ordinarily a wizard wouldn’t do this, since I’m essentially causing you to age faster, but in a pinch it’s a handy way to recover your turyn in a hurry.”
Will’s eyes lit with interest.
“It’s also stupid,” added his grandfather. “This is the main reason why wizards these days live such short, stunted lives.”
Will felt a strange sensation, as though he had relaxed a muscle, though it had nothing to do with his physical body. The candle flame returned to its normal size and at the same time his strange vitality vanished.
Arrogan held up his left hand. “Would you like to see what my flame looks like? Here.” A new flame appeared above his palm, though it was hardly deserving of the term. It was more of an ember, barely more than a speck of orange. After a few seconds, he let the illusion vanish. “Tiny, isn’t it? Some would say it’s hardly enough to sustain life, but controlling your flame is the secret to longevity—and power.
“Even in my day, many wizards would teach their apprentices simple magics first. Would you like to know why?”
Will could feel sweat beading on his brow, and his eyes kept darting back to the green flame. His brush with suffocation had instilled a deep terror in him, and the color of the candle was a constant reminder that his life was in Arrogan’s hands. “Yes, please,” he answered, trying to keep his voice even.
His grandfather smiled. “Because they were selfish. An apprentice who can’t do magic is practically useless, much like you. So they taught them simple cantrips and spells, things to make their lives easier. Fortunately for you, I am not a selfish man. I’m not going to teach you any of that, even though it means you’ll be a greater burden on my munificence.” The old man leaned back, a self-satisfied look on his face. “You’ll thank me later.”
Despite his fear, Will complained, “But you said you’d teach me!”
Arrogan’s expression shifted to annoyance. “I am teaching you, ungrateful wretch though you are. Learning any magic at this point will slow your progress. In the old days an apprentice might spend decades learning to master their turyn, and the main reason it took so long was because their teachers didn’t have the patience to teach them in the proper order.
“You will learn control and discipline first, and with any luck you’ll manage it in a couple of years, rather than ten or twenty.” The old man sat up, and his fingers began to move. He was muttering under his breath, and Will could see tiny, yet intricate lines of power forming in the air.
Arrogan’s right hand clenched into a fist, and Will saw the candle flame shrink slightly, so that it was slightly smaller than it usually was. The shift sent a wave of weariness through Will. Then the hermit’s left hand went forward, pushing the small weave of magic toward him. It drifted through the air and sank into his chest.
The old man studied him for a moment, then snapped the fingers of his right hand. The line of power connecting him to Will vanished, and the candle flame returned to its normal yellow color. Will breathed a sigh of relief.
His grandfather gave him a smile that was pure malice. “Don’t look so happy yet, boy. I’ve released your turyn, but the spell I put within you will cause you no end of trouble if you don’t learn quickly.”
Will’s heart sank. “Spell?”
Arrogan gestured at the candle once more. “As you can see, I reduced the size of your turyn. Currently it’s slightly smaller than normal, but it will try to return to its usual size. To prevent that, I’ve put a spell within you that will stop that from occurring, but if your turyn expands and puts pressure on the spell, you will feel pain—slight at first, but gradually growing in intensity.
“Your job is to keep that from happening. The pain will serve as your guide. The sooner you learn, the less discomfort you’ll have to suffer,” finished the old man.
He gaped at his grandfather. “Why would you do that?”
His mentor ignored the question. Instead he reached into his robes and pulled out a gold coin. “This is your payment for the wood. You can have the rest of today off. Go pay your friend for the cot and be back in time for dinner.”
Chapter 14
Will didn’t need any encouragement to leave. He had been aching to visit his friends for months, and the fear his grandfather had put in his heart that morning with his strange magic demonstration only made him want to get away even more.
The pain started just minutes after he left.
It began as an odd, itching sensation that covered his body but was strongest in his face and scalp, and it got immediately worse when he realized what was happening, going from itching to burning in just seconds.
He stared at the candle fearfully. He had no idea what to do, but he knew from long observation that strong emotions usually caused the flame to flare. Calm down, he told himself.
The flame stabilized, and the burning receded, becoming merely an annoying itch once more. He needed to figure out a way to keep the flame from growing. Maybe if I burn off some energy. In the past he had noticed that heavy exercise tended to deplete his turyn a little. Without waiting to think about it, he began to run.
He ran all the way to Barrowden. It would have taken almost an hour if he had walked, but he covered the distance in half that, dashing through the trees with reckless abandon. By the time he arrived, his face was red and he was covered in sweat, but the itching had faded. The cold autumn wind was a relief for his overheated body, but he worried what would happen once his sweat-drenched clothes began to leach away his warmth.
Walking down the one street that went through Barrowden, he was surprised when a familiar voice called to him. “Will!” Turning around, he saw Annabelle Withy step into the lane, two large wooden buckets in her hands.
“Anna,” he responded, surprised. His friend had changed in the year and a half since he had last seen her. She was slightly taller than him now, and her figure had changed in interesting ways. He had always liked her, since she seemed friendlier and more practical than most of the other girls in the village. “How have you been?”
“I’m well,” she answered. “Where have you been? Nobody’s seen you in forever.”
Good question, he thought. After a second, he replied, “I took an apprenticeship. I’m living with my teacher.”
“Teacher?” said Annabelle, her face growing curious.
Master, Will chided himself. I should have said ‘master.’ Apprentices didn’t refer to their masters as ‘teachers.’ “It was Mom’s idea,” he added.
“Where does your master live? Is he in Branscombe? What trade are you learning?”
All perfectly reasonable questions. None of which he wanted to answer. How could he tell her he was living in the forest with a crazy old hermit? Once the word got out, his friends would laugh themselves sick. It was a miracle they hadn’t heard about it already. I suppose I should thank Eric and Sammy for not telling everyone.
Thinking of his grandfather, Will almost replied with ‘none of your damn business,’ but he caught himself before the words came out of his mouth. I’m learning bad habits from the ornery old bastard. He didn’t want to lie, so he kept his answer vague. “Yeah, he lives near Branscombe. I’m learning medicine.”
Arrogan did live in the direction of Branscombe, though his home was much closer to Barrowden, and Will was supposed to be learning herbalism, so his answer wasn’t really a lie. It just wasn’t exactly the truth, either.
Annabelle’s brown eyes widened, and he found himself marveling at how pretty she was. “You’re going to be a doctor?” she asked.
Her assumption wasn’t a bad one for Will. Being a doctor would command some respect, although many people treated them with suspicion. “Mom said it would be silly for me to become a midwife,” he joked, letting her keep the assumption without actually confirming it. Then he glanced at the buckets in her hands. “Are you hauling water?”
She nodded.
“Let me help you then,” he suggested. His scalp was beginning to itch again, so it wouldn’t hurt to burn off some energy. Plus, he’d get to spend more time with Annabelle.
The Choice of Magic Page 10