by S K Smith
‘Why is that important? Can all Mages sense magic?’ Ayda asked.
‘Not all, but the ones you want to avoid.’ Nhima smiled.
‘Can you see it?’ Elle asked Nhima. Nhima shook her head.
‘There is only one Mage who can see magic, and that is yourself. But some Mages can sense it in the air, especially strong magic.’ The Scholar explained.
‘If Elle goes to your quarters, do you think she could see it?’ Niall suggested cleverly. The rooms below the Scholars Quarters were imbedded with Ebony Stones, the idea was to conceal the magic within.
‘It’s worth a shot.’ Elle nodded, already on her way.
‘Wait! Up there you are vulnerable with just a wooden door to protect you – be careful!’ The Scholar raised his hand. Elle nodded. Knowing Ayda would follow, she proceeded up the stone stairs. Ouch! She cursed as her head hit the ceiling. The slate hearth was in place, blocking their exit. Ayda heaved with all her strength but could not shift it, it was too heavy.
‘Use your magic,’ A female voice called in her mind. Elle jumped, startling Ayda, who looked at her questioningly. That voice! Elle remembered the voice well for it had haunted her dreams since the Ritual.
‘Who are you?’ Elle thought back to the disembodied voice in her mind. No answer. Elle huffed, frustrated at being ignored. Elle focussed on the task at hand, the others were waiting. The hearth was heavy and going to take a lot of effort. Elle pushed her magic outwards as she had learnt before, the light spread from her outstretched hands and formed itself around the section of slate above her. She willed it to move, saw her desire clear in her mind. It would not budge. Maybe more magic, she thought. She threw more magic from within her into the stone. It shook slightly with the impact. Once more she concentrated on moving the stone, finally, slowly it lifted. Shock shook through her as she felt the weight of it strain her bones, shaking with effort, she raised the hearth just high enough for them to scramble out and then dropped it back into place behind them. The sound was louder than she had hoped.
‘You were shaking, are you ok?’ Ayda asked, concerned.
‘It felt heavy. I wasn’t expecting it to.’ Elle whispered, allowing herself time to recover. Sitting down in the armchairs, they waited. Elle looked for any signs of glowing magic from around her. There were none. No lights whatsoever. She disappeared into all the adjoining rooms but could not see any signs of magic from below. She was satisfied that the Scholars assumptions were correct. The Ebony Stones did block all magic, including its signs. It made her untraceable. Deciding they had examined the outside long enough, they opted to move back to the others and share their findings. Elle poured magic back into the stone to open it, and thankfully, found it easier than before. Exhausted from the effort they returned to their friends.
‘So, does this mean you are right?’ Ayda asked once they had advised that Elle could not sense the magic.
‘It means the Elders cannot sense Brielle and Nhima’s magic down here, which means they are safe.’ The Scholar explained.
‘The Elders can sense magic too?” Elle asked, dumbfounded. Did she share a skill with the Elders? Was this why they wanted her dead?
‘The Elders can sense all magic, but not see it as you do.’ Nhima continued calmly, ‘The strongest mages are sensed and marked, receiving “summons” and once in the Chamber, the patterns glow to show the Elders the remaining strength of each Mage before the magic is taken. They can then judge the power left in the Chamber.’
‘They use these crystals to drain and store the magic they take from the unknowing Mages, but why they do it, I do not know.’ The Scholar finished. Elle remembered the summons on her hand. The light had glowed dimly on the night of the summons, the same as the other Elves lucky enough to be selected. They had all looked at it as a mark of importance, a mark to wear with pride and honour at being one of the few selected. Elle looked down at her hand in disgust. She remembered during the Ritual the mark lighting up on every Elf in the room, she had been startled and blinded by the brightness of her own in comparison with every other. Her parents had also been surprised, she remembered. The mark on her hand was not a medal of honour, not a mark of respect. It was a tag. A tag that had betrayed her strength to the Elders and had marked her only for death. She despised it. She thought back at the marvel of bright spheres, now knowing that she was witnessing the Ritual, witnessing the Elder’s stealing the Elves magic.
‘How did you learn all of this?’ Sir Rakel asked. The Scholar sighed.
‘I was studying, in the Temple Library. I came across an old book. It was buried deep in the shelves, it hadn’t been touched for centuries. The pages were crumbling to dust. I took it and carefully rewrote it. What I read shocked me. We Scholars are aware of Magic. We know it exists, albeit rarely. But we never knew it could be stolen.’ The room was deafly quiet as everyone clung onto his words. Elle was holding her breath, staying as silent as possible, waiting for the old Scholar to continue.
‘I found a record, a diary entry of a Student Mage from before the Elder’s war. He was shocked to learn that he had the talent. He had tried to teach his friends the skill, but it could not be taught. He believed it was a skill that a Mage had to be born with. I read on, intrigued by the Student’s desire for study. He had learned how to store magic into stones. I never got further than that before the Legion and the other Scholars learned of my studies. The Prime Scholar banished me from the Temple and blinded me as punishment. They burned my works and experiments. I was exiled.’
‘Oh my...’ Elle felt pity in her heart, this Old Man had been through so much.
‘Do not pity me child, for I would be dead, if they had not underestimated what I had learned. All I had to do was fit the pieces together. The exile gave me the freedom to explore. When the King learned of an exiled Scholar not under the influence of the Elders, he was most keen to get in touch. Your Father and I spoke at length of the Ritual Chamber, and the stones within. Together we found them. But we could never be certain of our theory, until now.’ Elle’s mind was reeling. Her Father and this Scholar had worked together on this Theory? Her Father had known all of this? She felt dizzy, this was too much to take on all at once. Ayda looked as pale as she felt, confused.
‘Why did Father not stop this, if he knew?’ Ayda asked quietly.
‘He was not strong enough to threaten the Elders, we believed no one was.’
‘Am I?’ Elle asked, hoping she wasn’t. The Elders felt so big and so mean, and she so small.
‘One day you will be.’ The Scholar nodded knowingly.
‘We realised your power at the same time the Elders did, we were too late.’
‘How do you mean?’ Elle asked, confused. A female voice greeted through her mind. Elle stumbled, in shock she had not expected it. The same voice from the Ritual. Nhima was smiling at her.
‘It was you?!’ Elle burst out, flabbergasted. The other’s looked between them in pure confusion.
‘But – how – you don’t sound the same?!’ Elle continued.
‘Our voices sound different in our minds because it is projection, we’re not actually speaking.’
‘But – how!?’
‘I can communicate through minds, as long as there is a clear channel.’ Nhima said.
‘But you never reply!?’ Elle remarked.
‘That’s because I can communicate – you can’t.’
‘HOW?!’ Elle asked loudly, confused.
‘It’s a skill of mine, I don’t use it often. It’s not often I get a clear channel.’ Nhima replied.
‘A clear channel?’
‘When you were in the Ritual Chamber your magic was linked to the stones, creating a kind of path between you and the destination. I sensed it and connected myself to it.’
‘But that’s hundreds of miles! How did you sense that?!’
‘Usually I can’t, but with the flow of that much magic from every mage in that chamber, you can just feel it if you concentrate enough. I didn�
��t have much time though before they traced me, or before my magic expired.’
‘But why did you choose me?’
‘I felt what the Elder’s saw in you the moment I connected with the channel and realised the danger we were both in. I pulled away in time, but you didn’t.’ Nhima ended apologetically.
‘What did the Elder’s see?’ Elle asked frantically.
‘You. The power you possess. I said before that they only hunt those who use their power or those who could threaten them. The extent of your power is so much greater than you realise.’ Elle felt sick. She stormed from the dome not wanting to hear anymore. Everything she had learned as a child was wrong. The weight of the truth bore down on her. She had been told that the Ritual was the highest honour to any Elf. The chance to speak to our Elders and to be bestowed knowledge was the greatest gift among her people, it was a lie. That was NEVER the intention. They were cattle, for farming. The Ritual had served as nothing but a harvest for the Elders to absorb all the power they could from their own people. Bile filled up in her stomach as anger took over. She had known they were wicked for wanting her dead, but to have killed and stolen and lied to her people for centuries about their own birth right revolted her. Her people didn’t know anything! They were all rich in magic and were blind to it! Lied to over centuries about magic being extinct following the war! The Elders she had once respected, worshipped and admired were suddenly everything she loathed in the world. They were the storms that drowned crops, the germs that caused disease and the fire that burned the forests. They were afraid of her, and she would show them fear. She would destroy the reign of the Elders and restore magic to her people.
The knowledge that the history and tradition her people were so proud of, was a poison fed to them over years of ignorance, had ignited something inside her. Her actions were fuelled by hate, her desires energized by vengeance. She had been left alone, in the silence of her room for the remainder of the day. She guessed she was not the only one disturbed by the facts. She had seen the tears and disbelief in Sir Rakel’s usually iron eyes, the anger that burned from Syren and the despair and loss from her sister. Their history, in tatters. Even the humans could not understand this. They had been brought up away from all knowledge of magic, they didn’t even remember its existence. There were so many empty spaces in their understanding. Did humans still have magic unbeknownst to them? Or is it truly extinct in their race? She returned to the Training Dome to following morning alone. She practised on her own. She threw objects around the room with her magic, and accidentally destroyed some of the furniture in a blaze of temper. It was only when Ayda appeared, that she stopped.
‘It’s a lot to take in, isn’t it?’ Ayda whispered quietly. Elle nodded in reply. At least Ayda had no magic, she hadn’t been stolen from or treated like a prized calf.
‘Do you think Father knew?’ Ayda continued. Elle glared at her. Of course, Father hadn’t known. He would have put a stop to it. He would never have let her go in there to be unknowingly stripped of her magic.
‘No.’ She replied harshly. Ayda winced, unused to hearing the malice in her good-hearted sister.
‘He knew of magic. He used it, learned to hide it. He must have known something.’ Ayda sighed, more to herself than her sister.
‘All those stories,’ Elle whispered sadly, ‘who even knows what’s true anymore.’
‘Sir Rakel is heartbroken,’ Ayda replied, ‘He disappeared shortly after you and has barricaded his door. He won’t let me in.’
‘Why would he let you in? You’ve been foul to him since you saw him!’ Elle let loose at her sister.
‘I didn’t trust him! I was protecting you!’ Ayda replied, hurt and shocked.
‘I don’t need you! I’m stronger than you – I’ve saved your life twice!’ Elle spat the venom from her mouth.
‘This isn’t you – you’re shocked, and upset, I understand.’ Ayda bowed her head, and walked away, leaving Elle to her fury. No matter what Elle did, she knew Ayda would never turn on her, but the moment she disappeared, Elle stood flailing, drowning in her own guilt. She unleashed her magic once more. A small unlit candelabra flew from one wall to a cupboard at the far side of the dome, where a curse echoed. Niall emerged from his crouched hiding place.
‘Niall?!’ Elle shouted, rushing over to see if he was hurt. He rubbed his arm as he stood. Why was he hiding? She thought.
‘Sorry – sorry,’ He murmured, not looking her in the eye.
‘What? Are you OK?’
‘Fine, fine… just erm, dropped something.’ Elle knew this was a lie, she hadn’t seen him come in and both entrances were in view. He had been hiding.
‘Why were you hiding?’
‘Ah, um... well, you started to do your magic thing, erm, rather aggressively so I tried to stay out of your way.’ Niall replied, nervously.
‘But why hide?’
‘I was going to move,’ He began, ‘But then Ay – I dropped something.’ She knew what he was about to say even if he hadn’t said it. He hid because Ayda walked in. This was unlike Niall she thought. He was usually so carefree and ferocious, nothing could stand in the way of his confidence, and yet here he was cowering in front of a young girl. What had happened? She thought back to the heated conversation she walked in on yesterday between him and Ayda – had they argued? No, she thought, they were always bickering, and it never bothered him before. Or was it her? Had her power scared him?
‘I’m sorry if I scared you.’ She said sadly.
‘What? No!’ Niall seemed abashed, ‘I mean, it’s slightly unmanning to have a girl powerful enough to throw you and all that but it’s just... never mind. I’ll be fine.’ He thought better of his admittance, bowing mockingly to her as he had always done, and with a fleeting, secret smile, he retired and left her alone. Elle took a seat at the table near the edge of the room. The weight of centuries of deceit wore heavily on her shoulders. She slumped on to the table with her head in her hands. The group had been so strong and so happy, but the news of deceit had shaken them and shone light upon cracks. She had been so willing to trust everyone, had trusted the Elders and her parents, but the more she understood, the more she knew just how far the lies spread. The Elders had lied for centuries, her parents must have known, Ayda had been keeping secrets from her all her life, and yet Elle had laid her soul bare and loved each of them completely. Her heart was bruised, she was alone. Her old friend’s face wouldn’t appear in her memory anymore, the days of playing in the beautiful garden around her favourite tree were gone. Gone from her past and her future. She shook her head, she could not fall into despair. Yes, all she had believed was a lie. But she knew the truth, she knew she was powerful, and she knew that despite it all – she was not alone. There were thousands of Elves all with magic, in the dark about the power glowing brightly within them. There had to be a way to free them all! A young, dark woman walked through the door slowly. Her face was full of sorrow, not kindly as before. Nhima approached wearily and sat down opposite Elle.
‘When I was younger than your age, I found my magic by accident,’ Nhima began, ‘My love was my garden. As a child I spent countless hours with my Grandmother, planting seeds and watering the flowers. One year, a snowstorm obliterated our fields, our crops were destroyed. My garden turned white with snow. I remember sitting in the cold snow alone, crying. We were poor, and we were hungry, there was not much to take pleasure from, my saplings and shrubs had all faded. I thought my eyes had been frozen shut by my tears, I had cried for so long. When I dared to open them, I found myself surrounded by a circle of snowdrops.’ Elle opened her mouth in awe. What a wonder that must have been! Nhima’s eyes shone with the memory, a memory that held such a magnificent hold on her heart.
‘What did you do?’ Elle asked in an excited whisper.
‘My Grandmother had been watching from a window, she ushered me inside so quickly. My Grandmother was a mage. A weak one, like me. She taught me to use what I have.’
‘Weak?’ Elle asked.
‘Yes, neither me nor my Grandmother were summoned, we were not strong enough to be of use to the Ritual.’
‘What happened once you learned your magic?’
‘Death,’ Nhima’s eyes glassed over, she was staring at something on the wall opposite. Perhaps shielding her eyes from the horrors, she had witnessed.
‘I’m sor-’ Elle began, looking down.
Nhima continued her story, ‘The Elders found out and the Legion came in the night. My Grandmother hid me well, they tortured her for my whereabouts. I had never seen magic used that way before… Grandmother taught me to defend, to grow and to heal. But my skill was not enough to save her. They burned our house down with me inside, they believed me to be dead. They searched for years after and never heard of me again.’ Elle shook her head and wiped the racing tears from her cheeks. Nhima had not looked at her once throughout her story. Her face was set like stone, she had grown into a strong and formidable Elf, Brielle thought, her Grandmother would be proud. Elle jumped slightly as Nhima grabbed her hands and looked her deep in the eye. Nhima’s eyes were dark brown, a sorrow was hidden by a passion so strong, Elle thought she saw flames flicker in their reflection.
‘Together we can stop this Princess,’ She said, quietly and assertively, ‘I am sorry to tell you all this so soon, but we have never known the Elder’s so afraid. You must be prepared.’
‘Yes,’ Elle felt as strongly as she, no more blood was going to be shed to hide magic, no more families destroyed, ‘Teach me.’
Nhima’s story had resuscitated Brielle. She found herself more driven and controlled than ever before. There was no more hope of getting to her Mother. She realised there was a bigger picture. The thought of never seeing her Mother again crushed her heart, but if she could prevent other families from enduring the pain that she and Nhima had gone through, all in the name of magic, she knew her sacrifice would be worth it. That day, they had practised well into the night. Nhima had taught her how to shape her magic. Elle had perfected the art of moving small things with her magic, but now she saw that had been easy. Nhima and Byran had shown her how to visualise and feel exactly what she wanted to achieve and to morph her power into the living embodiment of her dream. It was tough work. They wanted her to start a fire. She had focussed and stared at the collection of wood for so long her eyes hurt but it wasn’t enough. She cast out her magic towards the wood, but it did nothing. The tiny orbs of light dissipated, wasted. Nhima explained she had to see the fire, smell it, hear it, and feel it. Elle could see the tiny flame in her mind, she could see it dancing with the smallest change in breeze, she could see growing, consuming the wood and the oxygen. She could hear it cracking the branches and sizzling the air. But it was not enough! She focussed on the feeling, she imagined the warmth enveloping her after a cold day, felt the sweat on her brow.