Magician In Captivity: Power of Poses - Book Three

by Guy Antibes

  After clearing his throat to keep the interruption from bothering him, Trak continued. “As I said before, you are tapping into that power source directly. You think of what you want to accomplish with the power and then will it to happen. You don’t need a word, but you can use one. Jojo always did. The word has no meaning other than to initiate your use of power.”

  “Just exactly how different is this from using a pose?” Tembul asked.

  Trak stopped to think for a moment. “The pose is like a crutch. You assemble the power physically rather than mentally, and the shape of the spell you intend to use is part of the visualization. With poses, you control the power you use by the level of urgency in your power word.”

  “So what do I do with this?” Tembul asked, waving his stick around.

  Sirul sat silently, just looking on.

  “Visualize a magician’s light at the end. Don’t think of it as just a light, but a fire burning, and visualize the size as well. Then say, ‘materialize’, or something to will it to start.”

  Sirul narrowed his eyes in concentration, focusing on the tip of the branch, but nothing happened.

  “Let me show you,” Trak said. He visualized a light the size of an orange burning a few inches above the branch’s tip. He just gave a little nod of his head and an orange light appeared. “See? I thought of a ball of fire this size and color and here it is. I just have to think of it extinguishing, and it goes away.” He extinguished the light in his mind, and it disappeared.

  Tembul nodded. “You thought of it burning above the tip of the wand?”

  “I did.”

  The Toryan closed his eyes and said, “Materialize.” The ball of fire sputtered for a second and then went out. “It takes practice, yes? I tried to make it bigger, but that didn’t happen.”

  “Good for you. Remember, magic still comes at a price. I’ve found that it saps my energy a bit quicker.”

  Tembul made a blue ball of fire that didn’t last much longer than the first. “I can feel that. Poses preserve your power better.”

  Trak could see beads of sweat on Tembul’s forehead and an expression of frustration on Sirul’s face. “Still can’t do it?”

  Sirul shook his head. “I must not have sufficient power.”

  “Keep practicing,” Trak said.

  Tembul tossed the twig aside. “I’m very tired all of a sudden.” He rose from sitting and wavered just enough to make Trak jump up and steady him. “That took more out of me than I thought. I think that is enough of a lesson today. At least I learned to command fire.”

  Trak and Sirul helped Tembul up the stairs and back into bed.

  “How powerful are you?” Trak said. “Sirul might not be able to perform poseless spells, but how do you rank among the Toryans?”

  Tembul pursed his lips. “I am better than most, would be my guess. Sirul is about average for those who are gifted with power. You, my boy, seem to be built to do such things. I worry about the strength of the Vashtans, if they were able to jump from spot to spot with ease.”

  Later, Trak sat down in the kitchen, watching Mori cook some kind of rice cake. It looked more like goo to Trak, but he’d had it fried, and even though it was pretty much tasteless, he could eat it.

  “How strong is Jojo?” Trak said in Benninese.

  “He used to be stronger when he was younger,” Mori said.

  “I meant as a magician. Trak picked up an orange and tossed it up and down as he talked. “He seemed to be extraordinarily strong when we practiced in the mine.”

  “Jojo has never told me, but he developed most of his muscles in the mines. Before the anti-magic faction took over, he rose to his position as a measure of his intelligence, rather than the prowess with a blade or his ability to use magic. Why do you ask?”

  “He is more powerful than my companions.”

  “And more powerful than you?”

  Trak turned the orange over in his hand. “I wouldn’t know. I think we both held back a bit in the mine.”

  Mori giggled. “He told me the same thing. Jojo is coming for the evening meal tonight, so perhaps you might ask him directly.”

  “I will.”

  “Take the orange with you,” Mori smiled.

  “I will,” Trak said again and this time he rose from his seat and bowed in the Benninese fashion and left Mori to her work.

  True to Mori’s word, Jojo and another man Trak had never met joined them downstairs for dinner.

  “I would like you to meet Nashi. To accomplish your goal of rescuing the Toryan princess, you will need someone who knows Beniko Castle inside and out. Nashi served as my aide, long ago, and still functions in a minor role in the castle bureaucracy. Introduce yourself.” Jojo clapped Nashi on the shoulder.

  The new man bowed, and the others returned the gesture. Mori poured wine for all of them at the low table in her dining room. For formal Benninese dinners, everyone sat on cushions.

  “Sit, sit,” Mori said as she left.

  “It is true. I served as an aide to The Honorable Lord Jomio.” Nashi bowed in Jojo’s direction. “Now I work as a functionary in the property bureaucracy, many levels down from before.”

  “You know where the princess lives?”

  Nashi looked a bit nervous. Trak wondered if the man met with them at some risk. “She is in the Castle, but I am not sure where. I have heard she is in the Tower and also that she resides in the dungeons.” He shrugged his shoulders. “No one knows for sure among my peers.”

  “And that is the best Nashi can do,” Jojo said. “My other sources say the same thing.”

  “Then she could be anywhere,” Tembul said. “You can get us into the castle?”

  Jojo shook his head. “There are a few secret entrances in to Beniko Castle, but all doors are guarded by the Emperor’s guards. They would never let a Toryan or a Pestlan in.”

  “We can’t sit here forever,” Trak said. “I’ll have to think on it. How can we get back in contact? Through Mori?”

  “That is the case for now, I’m afraid,” Jojo said. “I’m too well known in the capital and only came tonight in the darkness to ensure you can trust Nashi.”

  Trak still didn’t fully trust Jojo, but Tembul and he had talked about possible plans, and they always came up short from their lack of knowledge and the fact that they didn’t look like Benninese.

  “We still aren’t quite ready,” Tembul said.

  Jojo looked at Trak, who nodded in agreement. “Tembul needs to gain more strength,” Trak said.

  “Fair enough. Give yourself a week to figure something out. The pressure to find me may fade by then.” Jojo pointed his chin in Nashi’s direction and spoke quietly. “He knows I’m a magician, since it wasn’t a crime before they sent me to the mines, and he understands that you three are, as well. He doesn’t know about the kind of magic we practiced in the mines. We must keep our secrets, right fellow magician?”

  Trak caught the knowing look. As he suspected, not many knew about poseless magic.

  “Yes, we must,” Trak said. “Now let us eat.”

  Trak, Tembul, and Sirul plied Jojo and Nashi with questions about Beniko and the way north back to the port of Homika where they could take a ship back to Torya.

  ~

  Mori revealed the house’s basement to Trak. By moving a few boxes and bales around, he cleared away enough practice space in a stone-walled alcove.

  Trak and the Toryans spent the next week working on their magician lights. Even Sirul managed a flame the size of a fingertip without a pose. Practice made the poseless spells easier to create, but the two Toryans still had limitations that didn’t seem to affect Trak.

  The Vashtans had to have some way to keep teleported objects from heating up, but the pose that they used might have taken care of the heat problem. With poseless magic, Trak suspected that the teleportation process might be entirely different. Trak had tried thickened air, ice, and a box filled with water. No methods were satisfactory.

 
The concept of an orange peel still felt right to him as he kept experimenting long after the Toryans had left the basement for bed. Frustration built within him. If he had some great power, then why did the Vashtan’s teleportation work, and his didn’t?

  He slammed his fist against the wall. That was stupid, he thought, as he shook his hand and noticed blood welling from his torn knuckles. He sat down on the dirt floor and put his head in his hands.

  If Riotro could see him now, the Black Master would gloat. He thought of Valanna and felt warmth on his face. Embarrassing. He pictured himself slinking away and escaping through the sewers of Balbaam to avoid seeing her…sewers…

  Trak sat up. Maybe willing an object from one place to another wasn’t enough. It needed protection, not like an orange, but more like a pipe? A pipe might work. He looked frantically around for something to transport and found a block of wood in a pile of junk heaped up in one of the basement corners.

  Rubbing his hands and taking some deep breaths, Trak tried to tamp down his excitement. He would move the wooden block across the practice area. The vision of a pipe and the block moving through it came into his mind after some effort. He whisked his finger from the first point to the second. The block disappeared and popped back into existence in its intended spot.

  Trak walked up and put his hand on the wood. It had stayed at the same temperature. He jumped up and down, pumping his fists in the air. He ran up the stairs and found an orange. He didn’t bother to take it down to the basement, but he repeated the experiment on the kitchen floor. The orange didn’t shrivel or heat up at all. He sat at the kitchen table and peeled the orange, rewarding himself with its sweet fruit.

  Buoyed by his success, he ran up the stairs and had a wonderful night’s sleep.

  In the morning, Tembul asked him what caused Trak’s positive mood.

  “I solved the teleportation spell,” Trak said. “Instead of a shell, I used the vision of a pipe protecting the object, and it worked. Finally, we can move on.”

  Tembul clapped Trak on the back. “Now you’ll be easier to get along with?”

  How irritable had he been? Trak frowned. “I’m sorry if I projected my frustrations. I didn’t even know.”

  “We knew,” Sirul said. “When do we practice on something live? A chicken? Use something good to eat, in case you still cook the thing.”

  Trak laughed. “Rabbit, I think.”

  ~

  The three of them returned to the basement the next day with a crate of rabbits that Mori had reluctantly procured. Trak successfully moved a rabbit in a small wooden box, and then he moved the entire crate.

  “Everything works,” he said. “Now it’s your turn, Tembul.”

  The Toryan tried and tried, but could only move a single animal. Everything else failed to disappear.

  Trak looked at Sirul and Tembul standing together. “What if you two held hands. There were two Vashtans moving Riotro. Poses work better when magicians can touch each other.”

  “Toryans don’t do that,” Tembul said. “It isn’t considered polite.”

  “Are the Vashtans polite?” Trak said.

  Tembul rubbed his chin for a moment. “I see your point. Shall I join with Sirul?”

  Trak nodded. “That is a fairer test than tapping into my power.”

  After stepping back, Trak let Tembul begin. Sirul looked nervous as he joined hands with Tembul. “Is this going to hurt?” he said.

  “You might feel me draining you of some energy, just as if we shared a pose,” Tembul said, shrugging his shoulders. “Just keep your mind clear, Sirul.”

  Sirul took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Tembul did the same, and then opened them just as the small box disappeared and reappeared next to the wall.

  Sirul put his hand to his head and collapsed on the floor. Tembul grinned at Trak. “I am utterly drained, but it worked,” he said.

  ~~~

  Chapter Sixteen

  ~

  VALANNA WOKE TO FRANTIC POUNDING ON HER FRONT DOOR in the middle of the night. She struggled to bring herself out of a deep sleep and let the panicked man into her rooms.

  She had opened the door to a visibly distraught Snively. “The Vashtans have decided that you are too much of a liability to their plans, after all. Harl has convinced them that any claim to the Pestlan throne will damage their chances to take over the country.” Snively’s eyes darted around in Valanna’s room. “They are on their way to surround the inn. Do you know of a secret way out?”

  As he finished his words, Valanna heard shouting in the stable yard.

  “If they know I am a magician, it won’t matter if I demonstrate it. Save yourself, Snively. I have to change my clothes and flee.”

  “There are Vashtan magicians among them. There are too many to fight,” Snively said. Valanna could detect the genuine despair in his voice.

  “Never fear! Can you kick my front door down?” Valanna ran to her bedroom and threw clothes into a bag. She rushed to retrieve the portfolio and stuffed it into her bag, as well.

  Snively looked at her uncomprehendingly.

  “Step aside,” she said. She struck a pose and pointed to each hinge. The edge of the door shattered at each hinge and the door fell halfway outside and in. She tucked the portfolio in the bag, moved the door out on the walkway, and then straddled the bag in the middle of the door. “I’m sorry to leave in such a rush. Please, save yourself!”

  Valanna brought the door thirty stories high and adjusted her pose to create wind. With nothing in the city reaching as high, the makeshift flyer flew across the dimly-lit city and into the dark countryside.

  Panic and fatigue made her slow down, and finally, she descended into a clearing in the middle of a wood that she spied by the light of the moon. She lay down on the door and went to sleep, using her bag as a pillow.

  ~

  The sun peeked over the trees and bathed Valanna’s face in light and warmth. She sucked in a breath and sat up. Had the Vashtans pursued her? The clearing looked serene enough. She lay back down on the door and looked up at the clear autumn sky. Rust and gold-colored leaves were falling. Her tiny refuge would be gone in a few weeks when all the leaves dropped, but at least for this morning, no one could see her.

  The Vashtans could jump from place to place, but she hadn’t headed west towards Warish, but south. She rummaged around in her bag for food, but in her haste, she hadn’t taken anything edible. Perhaps she could chance a farm.

  Valanna stepped off the door and walked around the clearing to wake up and stretch. The long grass gave up the dew that formed the previous evening and made her shoes and the bottom of her dress wet. She wished she could drink that moisture, but that would have to wait. She lifted the door up twenty stories and headed southwest. She would soon head directly west, but not immediately.

  Half an hour later she spotted a good-sized farmhouse and set her conveyance down in front of the flower patch that guarded the front.

  Thinking of how thirsty she was, she knocked on the door.

  The door slowly opened. “Miss Almond?”

  Valanna recoiled in shock when she saw the distinctive features of a Vashtan woman. This one wore farmer’s clothes. She backed away, but then turned and formed a shield. The Vashtan had just sent a bolt of fire that washed over her shield.

  Valanna remembered how Trak had fought, but her body couldn’t match the fluid flow. Still, she moved from pose to pose, throwing whatever she could at the person in the doorframe. She finally assumed her strongest form, wind, and blew the magician through the opening, hearing her crash into the opposite wall.

  Not knowing how many Vashtans lurked about, she edged her way towards the house and up the steps and stood in the doorway. She put her hand to her mouth when she saw the bodies of the farmer, his wife and two children lying by their kitchen table. They were still breathing, and that let Valanna take a deep breath. She stopped and listened for other sounds. Nothing stirred, so she quickly gathered up the breakfas
t that the family had left on the table and took a deep draught of the milk right from the pitcher. She quickly looked around for a sack and crammed what food she could into it, and then ran out to the door she used for a flyer and took off.

  The Vashtans had obviously spread out looking for her, so now fortified with food, she decided she would head all the way to Warish without contacting anyone.

  She rose up, not sure if she regretted letting the Vashtan magician live, and headed due south again. By midday, her reserves were about gone, so she found a copse of trees and lowered the door just below the tree level and ate from her stolen stores. She lay down and covered her face with an extra blouse and closed her eyes to rest. Valanna wouldn’t permit herself sleep, so not more than an hour later, she took off again heading south.

  The sun began to set, but Valanna couldn’t go any further. She didn’t see a good pathway to the shelf on the side of a rocky hill and decided to set down in the inaccessible place.

  After another light meal, she lay down, using the bag as her pillow, threw her cloak around for warmth, and closed her eyes. Sleep would come early and easily after her travel. She wished that she had paid more attention to Pestlan geography, but that had been taught by Timor Saddlebag, back when Trak and she were working with tutors. Valanna shivered at awful memories of Podor Feely’s friend. She closed her eyes again and went to sleep, not sure of how far she had traveled south.

  A cold rain woke her in the dark. She sat up and slipped on her cloak, and then rummaged in the dark for a hat. She stood up, looking for any signs of lightning. Not seeing any and coming to the conclusion that she would be soaked by the rain even if she waited on the ground, Valanna took off, this time heading due west.

  At least she remembered that a large mountain range separated Warish from Pestle, just like it did on the continent of Cokasan. She smiled when the sky cleared in the morning, revealing blue mountains far in the distance. She would be traveling through Warish by afternoon.

  Valanna flew over a small town and realized her mistake when the door dipped down. She stopped her wind pose and threw a shield around the door. Her descent halted. She looked down to see four black-robed figures looking up at her.