Magemother: The Complete Series (A Fantasy Adventure Book Series for Kids of All Ages)

by Austin J. Bailey

  Hugo, she called to him. Hugo!

  In his room, Hugo stirred.

  HUGO!

  The prince flipped over and tumbled out of bed, smashing his face against his bedside table.

  Oh no! I’m so sorry!

  Hi, Brinley, he said. Can’t you just knock like everyone else? He had pushed himself up onto his hands and knees. What is it? Is something wrong?

  No. Nothing. How are you feeling? Any changes?

  Yes, he said. My face hurts.

  Sorry about that. I wanted to say good-bye…and tell you I’m sorry.

  Silence. Brinley cringed. She was sorry. Maybe not for caring about him so much, but she was sorry that Hugo kept getting angry about it. She felt a hint of frustration brewing within her. What did he want from her? She had to look after him, didn’t she? That was her responsibility. She was the Magemother and he was a mage!

  Thanks, Hugo said finally.

  She swallowed her next words, thoroughly stumped over what to say.

  Is there anything else? Hugo asked.

  Uh, well…no. But just be careful, Hugo, okay? And I want to make sure we talk even though we’re going to be apart.

  She felt something twitch inside him. A small movement. Had he rolled his eyes?

  Fine, he said. Bye, then.

  ***

  Hugo felt Brinley slip out of his mind. What was her deal? Did she really need to check up on him every second? She had been pretending to be just saying good-bye, of course, but he knew the truth. She was being nosy.

  He winced, listening to his own thoughts. What was wrong with him? Brinley was probably just worried. She cared about him. He squirmed. For some reason that made him feel uncomfortable. Uncomfortable and angry. He’d been feeling this way since the mirror…But he couldn’t just tell her that, could he?

  A moment later Hugo’s thoughts were interrupted by a knock on his door.

  Who could it be that this hour? It couldn’t be time to leave already.

  He opened the door to find Cannon in the hallway. Animus’s apprentice stared down at him questioningly. Cannon had a way of doing that. Even though they were the same height and Hugo was a prince and a mage, Cannon could still look down at him somehow. Hugo had come to think of it as a side effect of Cannon’s subconscious conviction that he was the smartest person in the world.

  “Wow,” Hugo said in mock wonder, “you knocked this time.”

  Cannon ignored the comment. “Are you ready to go?”

  “Uh,” Hugo said, looking down at himself stupidly. He was still in his pajamas.

  “If I may offer a suggestion,” Cannon said, eyeing Hugo’s silky bedclothes. “Pants are a handy item to bring on trips like this. You could start there…” His face twitched in a small grin. “Would you like me to help you, Your Highness?”

  Hugo’s jaw tightened. “No thanks,” he said. “I’ll be out in a minute.” With that, he shut the door in Cannon’s face.

  Several minutes later, Hugo lifted the steel plate on the floor of the chicken coop and climbed out. They wanted to leave quickly and quietly, so they had taken Hugo’s favorite secret passage out of the castle. Several chickens clucked indignantly as Cannon followed him out.

  “How ingenious,” Cannon remarked, lifting the hem of his robe to avoid the mess. “You seem to have picked the only way out of the castle that is riddled with poo.”

  Hugo bit back a retort as they stepped into the open air. They were at the edge of the castle grounds now; Animus would be close. Sure enough, as they made their way toward the entrance to the city, Animus materialized out of thin air and fell into stride beside them. Hugo relaxed in the presence of the ancient mage, surprised at how tense he had been before. Animus, the Mage of Wind, was the sort of person that made you feel as if everything would work out right. He was the most knowledgeable and powerful of the mages, and by his own declaration actually older than dirt.

  “So,” Hugo asked to break the ice, “which stuffy old library are we off to first, eh? The Magisterium? Calderon?” The Magisterium was the pillar of the scholarly world in Aberdeen and had the biggest, oldest library around. Calderon was next in line after that, if you didn’t count Caraway Castle itself.

  “Neither,” Animus said, winking from beneath bushy white eyebrows.

  Hugo blinked. “I thought we were looking for clues about the mages.”

  Animus turned a sharp eye on Cannon. “Have you not informed the prince about the new development?”

  Cannon looked down sheepishly.

  “What new development?” Hugo said. It didn’t surprise him that Cannon hadn’t said anything. He could be a bit of a prat sometimes, especially around Hugo.

  “The Magemother has had a vision,” Animus said.

  “I assumed she told you,” Cannon muttered to Hugo.

  Hugo felt his face flush with embarrassment. She hadn’t. Why hadn’t she? She had just spoken to him! Couldn’t she have filled him in? Now Cannon, of all people, knew more than he did. It was insulting. “So where are we going?” he snapped.

  “To Tourilia,” Animus cut in, sensing Hugo’s mood. “She feels there might be clues there about Chantra, and I agree.” He gave Hugo a look that made him feel slightly ashamed of himself.

  “Chantra,” Hugo muttered thoughtfully. The Mage of Fire. She had been lost for years, since Hugo was only a small child. What could Brinley have seen that would give her a clue about Chantra’s whereabouts?

  “Is it a normal occurrence?” Cannon asked a moment later, clearly thinking along the same lines. “Such visions?”

  “Normal?” Animus said airily. “For the Magemother, yes. At least, that is how it has been in times past. From time to time she will receive flashes of insight through dreams and visions, sometimes even direct communication from the gods. Part of her function is to be the connecting link between Aberdeen and the heavens above, though it can’t be quite that simple. I remember our previous Magemother telling me she had rarely seen the gods in person. She claimed that her visions were little more than normal dreams, and difficult to distinguish as such.” He chuckled. “I suppose we should be grateful that we do not have such challenges.”

  Hugo grunted. He wasn’t in the mood to feel grateful just now. It felt good to be out of the castle and on the road again, but he wished he knew more about what they were doing. “Why doesn’t Brinley—I mean, the Magemother, just go herself, Animus? I mean, isn’t it her job to look after the mages?”

  “She is,” Cannon said, “by sending us.”

  Hugo rolled his eyes, then looked down when he saw Animus watching him.

  “It is not wise to doubt the Magemother,” Animus said.

  Hugo bit his lip, wondering how much Brinley had told him. Maybe she had talked to him this morning. Maybe that’s where Animus was before he joined them. “Uh,” he said, “did Brinley—I mean, sorry, the Magemother—”

  “You may call her by her name if you wish, Hugo.”

  “Oh. I thought you’d think it was rude,” Hugo said.

  “I do,” Animus said pleasantly. “Or rather, I would, if you were not you. You have a very different relationship with her than I do, however. The two of you are…close.”

  Hugo felt his face flush. He didn’t know what Animus meant by that, and he wasn’t going to ask. It was true that he liked Brinley, if not lately. But that was the end of it. After all, he was a mage and she was the Magemother. (She was pretty, but she was pretty annoying too.) Besides, she was barely fourteen. That would just be…weird. “We’re just friends,” replied Hugo.

  “As you say,” Animus said.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Hugo could see Cannon mouthing the word “close” thoughtfully to himself. But Animus was old, and odd. Maybe he meant something else by the word. Hugo asked another question to change the subject. “Are we taking horses?”

  “No,” Animus said.

  Striding beside Hugo, Cannon stopped short. “Don’t tell me we are going to walk just because
His Highness here can’t fly.”

  “Goodness!” Animus said. “I hope not.”

  Hugo shook his head, perplexed. “Then how are we going to get to Tourilia?”

  “So many questions,” Animus said. “Walking is good for the soul. That said, I hope that we can find a faster means of transportation. I intend for you to start learning how to use your powers. If you do not, then it may be difficult for you to survive the next few weeks, and a very long walk besides.”

  “We could just take him,” Cannon said. “I can carry him, if I have to. Please don’t make us walk, Animus.”

  Animus waved a hand. “This is not about you, Cannon. The time has come for Hugo to learn. I still remember the day when you couldn’t even make a leaf rustle in the wind.”

  Hugo grinned, but it disappeared quickly as he realized how ignorant he still was. Animus could disappear into the wind and whisk away at a hundred miles an hour to anywhere at all. He had seen him do it. Cannon wasn’t nearly as powerful as his master, but he could certainly get around fast enough. But he had no idea what Animus meant about him learning to travel quickly. “What do you mean?” he asked. “I can’t disappear into the wind or anything…”

  “Hugo,” Animus said, “you are the Mage of Light and Darkness. How fast does light travel, do you suppose?”

  Hugo shut his mouth. He hadn’t thought about it like that before. “But light doesn’t move,” he protested a moment later. “It’s just there. Isn’t it?”

  “Oh, no,” Animus said, shaking his head. “I think you will find that light travels like any other substance, only much faster, and much more directly. Lux could slip into the light itself and be on the other side of the kingdom in a few seconds.”

  Hugo felt his stomach tighten. His discomfort must have shown on his face, for Animus said, “You don’t like to talk about your predecessor.”

  Hugo shrugged. Generally, he tried to avoid even thinking about the previous Mage of Light and Darkness. Like the rest of Hugo’s predecessors, Lux had failed in his role and become consumed by the darkness. On top of that, Lux had nearly killed Hugo once. That is who he would become, Hugo knew, if he wasn’t careful.

  “No,” Hugo said finally. “I don’t like talking about him.”

  “Hey,” Cannon said, stopping sharply and poking him in the back of the head, “get over it. Just because he messed up doesn’t mean that you will.”

  Hugo felt his face burn.

  “Cannon,” Animus said sharply.

  Cannon dropped his hand and fell silent, but he didn’t apologize.

  “As you will learn,” Animus said heavily, “my apprentice is brilliant, and almost always right, but tact frequently escapes him.”

  Cannon nodded thoughtfully.

  “However,” Animus went on, “we will need to speak of Lux Tennebris if you are to learn. The Magemother and I have discussed this at length, and we agree that as you have no master to teach you, your best chance at learning to be a mage is through my memories of your predecessor.” He rapped a knuckle against his temple as he spoke.

  “Fine,” Hugo said. “How do we start? Do you want me to try to pretend that I’m made of light or something?” He looked to the east, imagining what the sun would look like shining over the distant landscape. They had just arrived at the edge of the city, and the lake stretched off to their right.

  “Nothing as silly as that,” Animus assured him. The mage straightened his belt in a self-conscious way. Perhaps, Hugo thought, he was as nervous about instructing Hugo as Hugo was about learning.

  “Although this is not my area of expertise,” Animus went on, “I had several detailed conversations with Lux on the subject. You might well remember that the Mage of Light and Darkness who preceded him was also corrupt. As such, Lux, like you, was left on his own to discover how to use his powers. Naturally, I was already old by the time he began this journey.”

  “I hadn’t thought about it like that,” Hugo said honestly. He kicked a stray rock into the lake and it sank beneath the surface with a loud burp. He was imagining a young Lux, as uncertain and ignorant as himself probably just as determined not to fail, just as afraid of his new calling. That didn’t bode well.

  “At any rate,” Animus said, “the key to communing with the light, as I understand it, does not lie in thought or imagination, but in the senses themselves. Seeing and hearing in particular.”

  “Seeing and hearing?” Hugo echoed.

  “Yes. You already see the light, obviously—though I doubt you see now the way that you will when you have come into your power—so we will start with hearing. Listening to something you are accustomed to merely seeing will force your mind to consider it anew. Your assignment for the remainder of the morning, then, is to listen to the light. Can you hear the moonlight? When the moon fades in a few hours and the sun climbs over the eastern hills, will you hear the change? What will it sound like? How does the noon sun differ from the midnight moon? I will require answers to these questions at dinner. Until then, there will be no talking. Only listening.” Animus squinted up at the sky, taking in the wind and clouds with a practiced eye. “Best get to it right away. I think we’ll be sorry if we’re still walking the day after tomorrow…”

  Right, listening. Sounds simple enough, Hugo thought, closing his eyes for a few steps as he followed Animus around the northern edge of the lake. He could hear the water moving gently, brushed along the surface by the early morning air. He could hear Cannon’s footsteps, and his own. He could hear a bird in the distance.

  Listen to the moon. Right…

  That wasn’t silly at all.

  Chapter Three

  In which there is treasure

  Before the sun had finished rising, Brinley and Tabitha were on their way out of the castle.

  “Don’t you think you’ll be hot in that big coat?” Brinley asked Tabitha, who was wearing a weathered leather coat over her dress. It was much too big for her, and along with her worn boots and bright socks, made her look like a street person.

  “Oh, no,” Tabitha said. “I couldn’t leave my coat behind. Belsie gave it to me. Besides, I need the pockets.” She opened it to reveal a plethora of pockets. There were over a dozen of them, and all in odd shapes and sizes. “I have anything we might need in here, you know,” Tabitha said.

  Brinley hid a grin and glanced at the sun. “I had hoped to leave sooner,” she mumbled. People were already milling about in town and it was almost certain that someone would notice the Magemother leaving. Word was sure to get around. That wasn’t exactly bad, but she liked being quiet about these things.

  “But we still have time for me to say good-bye to someone, don’t we?” Tabitha asked.

  “What? No, I don’t think so. I told you to say your good-byes yesterday, remember?” But Tabitha wasn’t listening. She was skipping now, leaving the main road and heading toward the town square. Perfect. Just when she wanted to lay low, Tabitha was skipping through the center of town. This time of day it was sure to be packed with carts and horses and sellers breaking out their wares.

  “Just one person,” Tabitha called back in a singsong voice. “I just need to say good-bye to one person.”

  Brinley had learned that by the time Tabitha started singing her words, it was too late to change her mind. Tabitha had her own little world that she often disappeared into, and when she was in there, she was difficult to reason with. Brinley tugged the hood of her green traveling cloak down over her face and jogged to catch up. “Who are we going to see?”

  Tabitha giggled. “Maggie. Mad Maggie.”

  “Mad Maggie?” Brinley asked.

  “You’ll see,” Tabitha sang back, entering the square. “You’ll like her.”

  Several people turned at the sound of her voice. Some smiled. Others rolled their eyes.

  “This way,” Tabitha called back, leading Brinley to a fountain on one edge of the square.

  Next to the fountain, in a corner of the square, there was a small le
an-to shelter stuffed under the low-hanging eaves of a blacksmith’s shop. It looked like the makeshift shelter of a homeless person. Tabitha approached the door, which was nothing more than half a piece of scrap wood, and knocked loudly.

  “She lives in there?” Brinley said.

  Her question was answered as a wailing voice issued from inside the tiny house. “Go away or I’ll bite your face off!”

  “She’s a bit crazy,” Tabitha said matter-of-factly. “That’s why we call her Mad Maggie, but she’s wonderful.” She turned back to the door and knocked again. “It’s me!” she sang.

  The door sprang open and the most ridiculous-looking woman that Brinley had ever seen stepped out. She was wearing several dresses, at least three, one on top of the other, along with long colorful socks and some tattered knitted mittens, which looked oddly dull against the rest. Brinley guessed that she was bald, but it was hard to be sure; she didn’t seem old enough to be bald, and she was wearing what looked like a handmade cap of yellow fabric onto which she had sewn a generous amount of curly doll hair. Beneath her startling exterior were a pair of kind, smiling eyes. She seemed happy to see Tabitha.

  “Hello, Apprentice Tabitha,” the woman said formally. “Would you and your friend like to come in?”

  Brinley glanced at the inside of the hut. It was just big enough to hold a large bucket, turned on its end, and a small, round pad of blankets. No doubt that was the woman’s bed, and the bucket was her chair. What would it be like to live in such a place?

  “No, thank you,” Tabitha said. “But I would like to introduce my friend. This is Brinley.”