The Seventh Spirit

by Adam-Clay Webb

  “Ah, yes, goodday, goodday,” she replied indolently, her eyes still fixed on Clover.

  “Well what is it?!” Clover finally asked, feeling quite uncomfortable and awkward. The woman laughed insincerely.

  “Oh nothing! You three look hungry!” she pointed out, finally looking closely at all of them, “Would you spare a moment at an old woman’s house?” she invited, smiling, but Kyle was certain that something wasn’t quite right about her. They looked at each other and nodded in agreement.

  “Many thanks, miss,” Kyle accepted, and she led them inside.

  As they entered the exquisite house, they awed at the beauty around. The place was in perfectly fine order, and expensive figurines and paintings lined the walls and shelves. Sweet smells of caramel, freshly brewed coffee, toast and hot butter lit the air.

  “Hungry?” the woman asked.

  “Very!” Lex answered quickly.

  “Good! Come, come, all of you!” she invited, sounding excited. She led them through stylish peach drapes and a curtain of brown beads. “Take your seats,” she told them, and they sat at the elegant, well-set table before them. The woman then went through another curtain of beads into the kitchen. “Just a minute, dears!” she bade them.

  “Wow, I’m definitely a fan of hers!” Lex whispered excitedly. Kyle and Clover looked at each other with similar expressions of mistrust and scepticism.

  “There’s something strange about her,” Clover whispered to her brother. The woman burst through the bead curtain, two plates in her hands. She rested them on the table, returning quickly for a third, resting it with the others. Then, she took for them mugs of boiling-hot coffee. In the plates were fluffy loaves of freshly baked bread, and what looked like minced chicken.

  “Sweet! Thank you!” Lex expressed his gratitude, not hesitating to start on the delicious meal. Kyle soon followed, then Clover, being hungrier than she was sceptical, began eating as well. The three crowded plates of food vanished quickly from before the hungry visitors, and the mugs of hot coffee were emptied. They leaned back in their chairs, unable to rise – they had never been so full since had they left the village.

  The kind lady asked them to stay a while longer, and cleared the table for them. Again, she was looking at Clover in a strange way, making her fidget uneasily. The woman’s eyes flashed to and from Clover and Kyle, then she looked at Lex, then at Kyle, then at Clover again. “You two, brother and sister, right?” she asked, pointing at Clover and Kyle.

  “How’d you guess?” Clover asked, sounding impressed, “Don’t tell me we look alike!”

  Kyle hissed and laughed a little. The woman laughed as well, and Lex. “No, not really,” she answered. “And you?” she asked, pointing at Lex. Suddenly, he felt a sense of exclusion he had never before felt around the siblings.

  “Long-time friend,” Clover answered, “grew up together.”

  Lex smiled.

  The old woman seemed to disbelieve Clover, but said nothing of it.

  “And your names?” the woman questioned.

  “My name’s Clover. My brother’s name’s Kyle, and our friend’s Lex.”

  In everything, the woman seemed to be having a fight in keeping her attention from being fixed on Clover.

  “Do you know what you are, child?” the woman finally asked Clover.

  The siblings exchanged glances.

  “What do you mean? Am I not a girl?”

  “Oh, you’re much more than that!” the woman sprang up, her excitement seeping out in her expression.

  “What am I, then?” the girl asked nervously, glancing at Lex and Kyle, wondering if the old woman could have possibly known that she was a witch.

  “How old are you, my dear?”

  “Ten.”

  The woman’s eyes widened, then she smiled like she had found a pot of gold. Hurriedly, the woman grabbed the chair opposite to Clover and sat on it. She looked deep into Clover’s eyes, frightening her.

  “Are you sure you are just a girl?” she insisted.

  “… I am a witch,” the girl finally conceded. Kyle flashed a sharp glance at her. She spoke it with a pride that the woman sensed and understood. Clover realized that the woman had somehow known, and was trying to figure whether she herself knew what she was.

  The woman’s grin widened until she appeared mad. “You are ten… My spirit started to render mana at age twelve,” the woman told Clover in a low, almost secretive voice.

  Clover’s eyes widened, and she jumped up gladly. “You’re a--”

  The woman grabbed Clover quickly and covered her mouth, stifling the incoming word.

  “Sit down now, sit down, and quiet down!” The old woman looked stern now, even worried, but traces of excitement could still be seen on her face and on her fidgeting hands. “Firstly,” the woman said, drawing nearer to Clover and keeping her voice down, “being a witch isn’t something you go around boasting about. Being a witch or a wizard makes you into a target!”

  “What do you mean?” Kyle asked, obvious concern and even worry on his face.

  “It’s not exactly… legal… At least not here. There are societies out there that make it their duty to get rid of us… Prevalent in these parts is what’s known as witch hunting.” The old woman expressed the danger and menace of what she was warning about with distinct facial expressions, like she was telling a ghost story around a children’s camp fire. Clover’s heart raced as she imagined barbaric men chasing her down with battle-axes and machetes.

  “Anyway!” the old lady continued, her tone suddenly changing from the scary warning tone to the excited, even giddy personality. “You, Clover, are a rather peculiar witch.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “When and how did you discover your powers?”

  “Just days ago… My grandfather, Charles Bengushi, after years of training me, it finally happened! My hands began glowing…”

  The woman suddenly looked frightened. “Charles?... Bengushi?” she asked, as if the name had great meaning to her.

  “You knew him?” Clover asked.

  Her cheeks reddened just a little, but enough, and strangely, her puffy hair turned pink as well. Lex jumped back in fright, almost toppling from his chair. Kyle just stared with wide eyes and a wrinkling face. Clover giggled. This strange occurrence seemed not to have frightened her at all.

  “Charles Bengushi…” the woman called his name with a kind of reverence and esteem as her mind travelled decades into the past. “We were friends back in our day… close friends,” she said, being quite suggestive with her facial expressions, which seemed as alive as Ben’s were when he was excited about anything.

  “Wow! Really?!” the fascinated Clover squeaked.

  “Yeah… Many many years ago…” she tilted her head up a few degrees, peering into a pleasant past she would have given anything to relive. “There was one thing about him, though… He was always obsessed with this prophecy… about Trium, this powerful force of darkness, who would return to attack the earth, and this boy…” She looked down at the smiling Lex, staring at him in deep thought, “… a boy who would use the power of the ‘seventh spirit’ and stand against Trium with his unbending friends by his side.” Suddenly, she seemed to become very interested in Lex. Clover growled, instantly jealous of her new fascination with Lex.

  “You’re not just an average boy are you?”

  “I am an Icemaker,” the boy answered proudly.

  “Hmmm…” Somehow, she didn’t seem very impressed, and this puzzled Lex. He remembered how excited and proud Bengushi was to discover that the boy in the prophecy is an Icemaker, and he remembered how petrified his power made the guards at the city gates not long ago. “An Icemaker saving the world? Impossible,” the woman declared in a forthright, matter-of-fact tone of voice, like she didn’t even have to give thought to it.

  “What?!” Lex stood up firmly, ready to defend his position of might with a demonstration.

  “Yes, you might see yourself a
s powerful now, little boy, because you haven’t seen anything yet! Icemakers are ranked amongst the lowest of super humans. Sorcerers, on the other hand, are easily in the top tier!” Clover’s eyes glistened, and Lex’s dimmed. If Charles was in any way correct about a child saving the world, it would have to be this girl!” Clover grinned with a new esteem of pride and self.

  “Clover, the rate at which a sorcerer becomes more powerful, even the maximum potential power they possess is directly linked to how early they start to generate their own mana. The average ages are sixteen to probably eighteen… I started out at age twelve, and was extremely powerful by the time I was sixteen, even hunted down, as the state of Magma Town saw me as a threat to national security.” The listeners marvelled at this, Kyle being sceptical. “You, Clover Bengushi… are only ten years old…”

  Clover stared in her mind, her thoughts running wild. She was just beginning to see her own potential.

  “The woman who is said to be the most powerful witch on the continent is the wife of King Aragan, and rumours have it she started to generate her mana at age eleven.”

  There was a bit of thoughtful silence. Certainly, everyone was bright enough to do the math.

  “Could you teach me?! Please, please, please! I beg you!” Clover clasped her hands and bowed before the woman, finding a new fiery passion to unlock her potential.

  “Alright, alright! I’ll show you a thing or two!” Clover’s face lit up in indescribable excitement.

  “First up, a little bit of theory! Mana… Well, simply put it’s just magical energy, magic in its rawest state. What makes you a witch is the fact that your spirit produces this rare energy. Well, mana production usually begins in the teenage years as I said, but you are clearly not an ordinary witch. Now, there are various levels of sorcery – each coupled with a different grade of mana.” She held her right palm out over the table so the viewers could see clearly. A faint yellow enveloped it. They watched keenly. “Grade one mana – this is the weakest level and is almost useless. The pale yellow then phased into a rich, thick gold colour. “Second grade mana… it can manage a few simple tricks, but nothing fancy.” Then, the mana took on a green that was well familiar to Clover and her friends. “Real power begins here,” the woman declared, smiling a little.

  Lex turned his stare to Clover for a moment. There was a look of confusion on her face.

  “Moderately powerful spells can be used, and the basic combat commands are unlocked. Third grade mana is a milestone in a sorcerer’s life. It’s attained after say… nine, ten years of training if you work hard enough.” Kyle stared at the wide-eyed, gasping Clover. She slowly brandished her hand, and in seconds, green mana, resembling that of the old witch’s, surrounded it.

  The old woman stared at the girl in disbelief, even shaking. Clover looked up from her glowing hand, smiling at the woman. “Impossible,” the veteran said under her breath, “it took me seven years…”

  “I’m guessing Clover’s a fast learner,” Lex broke the silence of wows, laughing a little.

  Truly implausible,” the woman said to herself, still finding it difficult to believe that Clover was already wielding third grade mana.

  “Tell me more! The other stages!” the interested girl reminded.

  “Right,” the woman snapped, and fired up the same hand with a bright, flaring blue mana. Clover’s eyes lit up. It was so bright, they could hardly look at it directly. “Grade four mana, fourth grade sorcery – reached after around twenty years of training usually.”

  “That’s around two days for Clover, then,” Lex joked, patting her back, making her laugh proudly.

  Then, the witch’s hand turned red, and flared like an extremely bright fire. “Fifth grade mana,” the woman introduced, a sound of particular pride and accomplishment in her voice, “this is where the girls and the women are separated. Almost any spell can be commanded into being with this high level of sorcery. This kind of power is quite a rarity.”

  “Amazing,” Clover mused, knowing that one day she would be as powerful as this witch.

  “Ha!” the woman rose from her seat abruptly, and grabbed the wrist of her glowing hand tightly. Veins wrinkled her face, and it was obvious she had her teeth clenched as she strained to demonstrate the next stage of mana. Her hair took on a red glow, and was lifted up, fluttering, as if in a great wind. The spectators got up and stepped back from her as the space around her grew tense, and the table and chairs began shaking. Her clothes fluttered, and her strain could be seen in her eyes. The redness of the mana grew darker and richer, until its colour changed to purple. The purple mana shone brightly, and Clover imagined how powerful it was. The woman began laughing like mad, a genuinely witchy laugh, and an evil-looking expression on her face. “Sixth grade mana! Only the very elite of sorcerers can attain this kind of power! This power took me sixty years to achieve, and it is the ultimate pride and glory of old age!”

  With suddenness, the mana and tension in the air dispersed, and the woman sat, breathing heavily, the veins in her forehead and arms just settling. She took another deep breath, and laughed a little, like flexing such power gave her quite a thrill.

  “Wow! Sixty years?!” Clover blasted, sounding frightened.

  “Sixty years,” the woman repeated proudly.

  “Fear not, though! You’ll get there before you’re an old woman like me if you keep at it!” she encouraged.

  “So, six stages of magic, huh?” Lex recapped.

  “Well, not exactly… Legend has it there is a seventh stage of magic… Black Magic.”

  “Legend, eh?” Kyle said, sounding quite sceptical already.

  “Yes. Your grandfather must have told you about this. The stories tell that the sorcerers of ancient time were much more powerful than the ones today. Even so, only the elders and a few prodigies managed to master the seventh stage, and could use godlike powers to even distort time and resurrect the dead… Hahahaha!” Her burst of laughter frightened the intrigued listeners. “If there’s anyone who could possibly unlock this kind of power, it is definitely you, Clover.”

  “So what about us?!” Lex finally asked, “Can you… teach us anything too?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous, Lex, she’s not a swordsman or an Icemaker.”

  “He’s right,” the woman agreed, “I’m only a sorcerer… but that doesn’t mean I can’t teach you a thing or two,” she said, holding a finger up with a slight simper.

  “But first!” she said, like she just remembered something gravely important, “Let me get to know you just a tat more… By the way, I doubt I mentioned my name – Herriot… Where’re you children headed?”

  “Well, we’re searching around for teachers,” Kyle answered.

  The woman’s face lit up with ideas. “I suppose you’ll leave Clover with me and be on your way, then!” she said, then laughed, making it unclear as to whether she was joking. “So… You’re an Icemaker… What about you, Kyle?”

  “…A swordsman,” he answered, not sounding too excited about it. He pulled his chair back from the table a bit.

  “I see, I see,” she said, sounding like she pitied his misfortune.

  “Don’t feel out of the place, though! Some of the greatest men in history were plain swordsmen like you’re aspiring to be! You’ll find a teacher in Magma Town or Hercule, no doubt.”

  Somehow, Kyle wasn’t as excited as before to find this teacher he was seeking. He took out his map and read it for Hercule, almost totally dismissing it quickly, as it was almost twice the distance away as Magma Town.

  “And me?” Lex asked, anxious for an answer.

  “Iceland…”

  “So there are other Icemakers!” he confirmed excitedly.

  “Maybe,” she replied, not sounding very hopeful, “and that continent is about as far from here as you can get!” She rose from the chair. “Excuse me for a minute!” She left hurriedly, and before the three could start chatting, quickly returned with a small ball-like object.


  “What’s that?” the curious Clover asked, getting her head closer in inspection.

  It reminded Lex of the zarium vessels he had seen in his dream, and the one he had seen in the black chest. It had the same colour, and had tiny inscriptions engraved on it.

  “This thing you’re looking at is called a subdimensional ball. It is rarer than flying pigs and can easily buy this city.”

  “What does it do?!” Lex asked.

  “What is it?!” the curious Kyle came in, rubbing his hands against its cold surface, made rutted by the tiny writings on it.

  “Inside this ball is a subdimension,” the woman began.

  “You mean a world?” Kyle asked, almost laughing.

  “Yes – a world I created and customized myself.” The three became very puzzled at this, their faces not hiding their incomprehension.

  “I don’t understand,” Lex said.

  “It is made partly of zarium and partly of Sapphire. In it is a world that doesn’t exist, a world that is not confined by principles of reality, like time and space. These things were created by the first generation of sorcerers after Lord Oga, and were made to accommodate timeless training to explore power limits.”

  “So that’s how those sorcerers became so strong!” Clover theorized.

  “Quite probably. According to how rare historians say that zarium was, no more than a dozen could have been made though. It’s a real pity that I got my hands on this treasure only two years ago. I’ve spent a few hundred years in it, nevertheless, so I am sure that I am now at my strongest. Sixth grade mana is certainly my limit.”

  “Incredible!” Clover blasted, imagining reaching her very limit in only a second of real time.

  “Impossible,” Kyle muttered to himself.

  Hundreds of years? Lex wondered.

  “Get ready,” Herriot warned, and turned the top half of the little ball in her hand. The top lifted about a centimetre from the bottom half and a black mist diffused from it and formed a thin wall of blackness before them. “Come,” she told them, and walked toward the black portal. She went right through the near two-dimensional arch-shaped door, and was taken in by it.