Tales from the New Earth: Volume One

by Thompson, J. J.

  Simon turned to him and raised an eyebrow,

  Aeris looked at him innocently.

  “What?” he asked.

  Simon just rolled his eyes.

  “Nothing. But now that you're back and apparently feeling frisky, I'd like to ask you to do something for me.”

  Aeris glanced down at Kronk, who was still smiling, and sniffed.

  “Certainly. Our rocky little friend isn't the only one who likes being useful.”

  Simon hid a grin at Aeris' obvious competitiveness.

  “Good. I'm sure that I won't be able to cast Magic Mouth for some time. It'll take a lot of practice for me to regain that level of competence. But I'd like to reassure Clara that things are back to normal, or at least getting there. She was so helpful in telling me what needed to be done to regain my power and I think that she should know what's happened.”

  Aeris' expression brightened and Simon remembered that the elemental was very fond of Virginia and her friends. He'd been instrumental in saving their lives and had forged a bond with all four of them.

  “I'd be happy to,” the air elemental said. “I think you're right. She'll be reassured to know that you are back to your old self.”

  “Thanks, Aeris. You can leave whenever you want to. If you want to wait until tomorrow or...”

  “Oh no. I'll go now,” Aeris said and floated across the room toward the door. “I should be back before nightfall.”

  He turned and looked at Simon with a small smile.

  “Try not to lose your magic again before I return, hmm?”

  And with that, the elemental disappeared with a subdued pop.

  Kronk shook his head as Simon sat back in his chair with a contented sigh.

  “He is very disrespectful, master. I do not know why you tolerate it.”

  The wizard smiled down at the elemental.

  “Probably because he's colorful. You and I see eye to eye in most things, while Aeris is almost always contrary. I think I need that once in a while. It keeps me on my toes.”

  “If you say so, master,” Kronk replied dubiously. “I find it easier to just ignore him when he begins complaining.”

  With a laugh, Simon stretched. He was feeling more and more like his old self and chatting with Kronk was one of the main reasons.

  “So do I, Kronk. So do I.”

  Over the next week or so, things began to get back into a routine, now that the elementals were home again. Aeris had let Clara know that Simon the wizard was back in business. She was very pleased and passed on her congratulations.

  Kronk was in a flurry for a few days, cleaning the tower, removing the snow from the paths around the grounds and generally putting the place back into order.

  Simon was amused as he watched the little guy flit here and there, muttering to himself. Apparently the elemental was amazed that the wizard had managed to survive for a handful of days without him. Whenever he mentioned this, Simon would nod meekly and reassure him that he was quite correct.

  Aeris seemed torn between scorn for Kronk's enthusiastic work ethic and a need to prove that he was useful as well. A few times, Simon caught the air elemental tidying up a room or rearranging things in the storage area in the basement. Aeris would simply look at him mutely and the wizard would pretend that he hadn't seen anything and move on.

  The tower was now warm all the time, thanks to Kronk, and possibly Aeris, keeping the fire well-stocked with logs all night. Getting up in the morning was no longer a freezing experience and Simon was much more comfortable.

  It was just as well that the elementals had returned when they did. The weather took a turn for the worse and winter storms roared around the tower for days on end, heaping snow up to the first floor windows and dropping the outside temperatures to bitter lows.

  Simon's visits to the outhouse were painful, but Kronk at least kept the pathway clear so that the run from the tower and back was unimpeded.

  Fortunately, the wizard's days were now filled with studying again. His spell-casting ability was terrible and once the happiness of regaining his magic had faded, Simon found himself back to being a frustrated novice wizard.

  He could only memorize one spell at a time and only the easiest ones at that.

  The first spell Simon cast for practice, just to prove to himself that he could, was Sparkle. It created little sparkles in the air like fireworks and was the least difficult spell that he had.

  Trying to be disciplined in his approach to practicing, Simon spent an entire morning just memorizing Sparkle, casting it, memorizing it again and on and on. By the time he was done, the thought of casting the damned spell one more time almost made him sick.

  The frightening part of his new status as a beginning wizard was his lack of stamina. Spells used magic, but the magic was drawn from the wizard and left him fatigued after casting. For the brief time that Simon had known master-class wizard spells, he rarely felt tired even after casting several powerful spells in a row.

  Now, however, he had to lie down after his morning's practicing and sleep for several hours. He felt like he had run a marathon and could barely stumble to his bedroom.

  “This is ridiculous,” he complained to Kronk a few days later. After the Sparkle spell, Simon had begun casting other simple spells.

  Stone-Skin was a protective spell that covered his body with a rough, stony coating. It was flexible and fairly easy to cast. Unfortunately, after casting it three times in a row, Simon had passed out.

  “I can barely function as a wizard now. I think I'm less powerful than I was when I first learned I could use magic and began casting spells.”

  He had glanced in the mirror that morning, and was shocked to see black circles under his eyes. His cheeks were sunken in and he had begun trembling at any chill in the air. In short, he was frail and becoming weaker by the day.

  Kronk listened sympathetically to Simon's complaints as the wizard sat near the fireplace wrapped in a thick blanket. When Simon paused to sip some tea, the elemental tilted his head and stared intently at him.

  “Master, you are working yourself too hard. You are trying to regain your old skill more quickly than you should. Take your time, pace yourself or you will become ill.”

  “I can't,” Simon replied. “Don't you see, Kronk? I'm the only wizard that we know of, so far. I have to learn quickly, to be able to fight back. The evil gods have noticed me. That means that I might be attacked again. Or worse, they may threaten Clara and her people. They helped me, after all, and I wouldn't be surprised to learn that those gods know that.”

  Kronk stared at him helplessly and Simon felt a sudden wave of sympathy for him. He was only saying what he was saying because he cared. But before he could speak, a voice from behind him cut him off.

  “As much as I dislike agreeing with him, in this case Kronk is correct.”

  Aeris floated into view and hovered at eye-level near the fireplace.

  “Meaning?” Simon asked shortly.

  “Meaning, my dear stubborn young wizard, that you are endangering yourself. And others, if they must depend on your skills to protect them, as you say Clara's people must.”

  Simon simply watched him silently, waiting for the elemental to continue.

  “Do you not remember the story I told you several months ago? About that young wizard from the old days who tried to cast spells that were too advanced for her and lost her magic?”

  The wizard looked away from Aeris and into the flames in the fireplace. Now that his memory was jogged. Simon did recall the tale of the powerless young wizard. Aeris had said that she could barely move or even feed herself. But that couldn't be happening to him, could it? He'd just regained his power.

  “And I told you at the time,” Aeris continued forcefully, “that she was lucky to have even survived. Most wizards who overextended themselves ended up dead.”

  He suddenly flitted forward until he was almost nose to nose with Simon, who pulled back into the chair in surprise.

&
nbsp; “And you may too,” Aeris concluded in a terse whisper.

  “But, but, I just got my powers back! I need to work at them to make them stronger. Just like in the old days when I trained for power-lifting. Work the muscles until they ache, then work them some more.”

  “Magical power is not a muscle, master,” Kronk said softly. “I do not know as much about it as Aeris does, but I do know that magic misused or overused can rebound on the caster with tragic results.”

  Aeris looked down at Kronk and nodded once.

  “But then what can I do?” Simon asked querulously. Even to himself he sounded like a petulant child and he cleared his throat in embarrassment.

  “I will tell you what you cannot do, Simon,” Aeris said seriously. “You cannot cast any spells for at least a week.”

  “A week?” Simon asked loudly. He sat up abruptly and his blanket fell unnoticed to the floor.

  “Or two. Possible longer.”

  Before Simon could protest, Aeris cut him off.

  “At least,” he repeated. “Have you seen yourself lately? You have lost weight. Weight that you do not have in abundance, I might add. You are gaunt and pale and,” he looked Simon up and down, “shaking like you have a fever. In short, my dear wizard, you are killing yourself. And you don't even seem to know it.”

  “But I, I...”

  “Master, look at your hands,” Kronk urged.

  Simon held his hands up against the fire and his eyes widened in shock. Seen against the light, they were almost skeletal. His knuckles stood out like knobs on a tree branch and the skin looked thin and stretched.

  He looked at Aeris and then at Kronk, both filled with concern, although the air elemental tried to hide it with his brusque tone.

  Maybe they are seeing more clearly than I am right now, he thought. Was he just being stubborn? If so, it could cost him his powers, or worse. And that would leave the world with one less weapon to use against the dark gods.

  Simon bent down and picked up the blanket with a trembling hand. He wrapped it around himself again and snuggled into the chair.

  “Okay, guys,” he said in resignation. “You win. Perhaps I should take a break from practicing. For a little while, anyway.”

  “Wonder of wonders, he's finally seeing reason,” Aeris said with a tiny smile.

  Kronk grinned broadly.

  “Excellent, master. You need to eat more and work less. We will take care of any chores that need doing. Won't we?” he asked Aeris pointedly.

  “Hmm? Oh yes, of course we will,” Aeris said, trying to sound more eager than he looked.

  Simon chuckled at their exchange.

  “Thanks, you two. I know you have my best interests at heart. Maybe I've been a bit too eager to regain what I've lost. It's mid-winter now anyway. I'll rest, read a few old books I haven't read for a long time and get my strength back.”

  “Well, at least that will save me from having to travel to Nottinghill and telling Clara what's been happening here,” Aeris said slyly.

  “What? You weren't going to squeal on me, were you?” Simon asked faintly.

  “Of course I was. And bear that in mind the next time you overexert yourself. You wouldn't want that poor woman slogging through the cold and snow to check on your health, would you?”

  “You're heartless, Aeris. Do you know that?”

  “Of course I am. I'm an elemental. We don't have hearts. Now why don't you be a good little wizard and go up to bed. Your convalescence starts now.”

  Chapter 7

  Simon's recovery took almost three weeks. Once he had admitted to himself that he really had pushed his mind and body too far too soon, the wizard was able to take a step back and relax, albeit with poor grace.

  He went to bed early and slept until noon most days. He sat by the fire drinking cup after cup of chamomile tea and reading old beloved books that he hadn't picked up in years. He ate when he was hungry, baking bread and cakes using his precious supply of flour and actually enjoying the mundane tasks.

  In short, Simon O'Toole took a holiday from magic. The elementals allowed him to light candles with his power, but that was the extent of it. And to his surprise, the wizard began to feel better.

  He put on some weight, although with his lanky frame, Simon would never be a heavyweight. His tremors disappeared and he became a little less susceptible to chills. Although he would never like the cold of winter, he did become better at coping with it.

  And the black smears of exhaustion faded from under his eyes. Even his dark hair, with its streaks of white caused by casting master-class spells in his fight with the black dragon, became fuller and shinier again. It hung down below his shoulders now, but Simon had no urge to cut it. Long hair on a wizard, at least in his mind, seemed to be appropriate.

  Aeris traveled to Nottinghill once during Simon's convalescence, to see if Clara and the villagers were doing all right. When he returned, he assured the wizard that he hadn't told the cleric about Simon's condition. In fact, he said that he had reassured her that all was well and that when the weather became more tolerable, they would all travel to the village for a visit.

  “Thanks, Aeris,” Simon said with relief after the air elemental's report. “Clara has enough on her plate taking care of her own people without worrying about me.”

  “You're welcome,” Aeris replied with a tight smile. “And you're right. Winter is hard on them and the cleric helps to keep them organized and focused. I hope when the weather breaks that we do head down there to see them.”

  “Oh, we will, we will. But I'd rather wait until the spring, or close to it. This is pretty much the worst winter that I can remember, and that includes the winters I lived through back in my old life.”

  Aeris floated above the desk in the study. Simon had been idly going through his spell-book, but under the watchful eye of the elemental, he hadn't attempted to cast even the simplest of spells.

  He suddenly made a notation on one of the spells, looked at it intently and nodded. Aeris watched this curiously.

  “What was that for?” he asked Simon, indicating the spell-book.

  “Hmm? Well, I know it sounds weird, but in the past few days when I've checked my spells, I've found some, I don't know, mistakes in the incantations. So I've been correcting as I read through them.”

  “How do you know they're mistakes? They worked before, didn't they?”

  Simon read the spell under his breath, careful not to concentrate and actually memorize it.

  “Yeah, they did.” He shrugged. “I've just had a, you know, feeling. That's all.”

  The air elemental seemed to be pondering that answer and then his expression brightened.

  “I wonder if this is the gods of Justice finding a surreptitious of helping you again? They were thwarted by their enemies when you were stripped of your magic and your knowledge, so perhaps they are fine-tuning your spells, making them more efficient.”

  The wizard sat back and thought about Aeris' notion. It wasn't a crazy idea. Simon had picked up spells through dreams in the past, dreams that he'd learned originated from the gods. So maybe they were helping again, this time in a more subtle, less obvious way.

  “That's a possibility, Aeris. Good thinking. The gods may actually be taking advantage of my down-time to slip these alterations into my dreams.”

  He smiled a bit crookedly.

  “I'm certainly getting enough sleep these days.”

  Aeris floated over and hovered next to Simon, staring down at the spell-book.

  “Well, if we're correct, there's no way to substantiate the theory until you are at full strength again and able to try to cast them. In the meantime, by all means continue with those tweaks. They may prove very useful indeed.”

  “I will,” Simon said and went back to scanning the book.

  Simon estimated that it was late January or early February when he was declared fit and back to normal by both Aeris and Kronk.

  He was both amused and slightly irritat
ed by the fact that the two elementals were the ones deciding when he could try to use magic again, but they had his best interests at heart. That was at least reassuring.

  On the first morning that he was feeling like his old self, Simon brought his spell-book down to the main room and sat at the kitchen table as he went through it. He drank tea and tried to decide which spell to attempt first.

  He had modified almost all of them in some way. Runes had been rearranged. Some had been added while others were erased. In fact, the book was looking decidedly frayed and dog-eared and he decided to copy all of the spells out into a new notebook at the first opportunity. He had a stack of them in storage.

  “So which spell are you going to cast first, master?” Kronk asked a bit anxiously. He was standing on the table next to Simon. Aeris hovered nearby.

  Both of the elementals were watching him closely; in case he overdid it, Simon assumed.

  “Yes, oh great wizard. What spectacular feat of magical prestidigitation are you going to impress us with?”

  Simon glared at Aeris, who grinned insolently at him.

  With a reluctant laugh, the wizard shrugged.

  “I haven't decided yet. It won't be Sparkle, that's for sure. I've had enough of that spell.”

  He hesitated, sure that the two were going to protest, and said “I thought maybe a Magic Missile spell.”

  Simon was half right.

  “Master!” Kronk was aghast. “You cannot begin your magical practices again with that spell! It is much too taxing on your delicate system.”

  Simon sighed loudly.

  “Kronk, I'm not made of spun glass, you know.”

  “But...”

  “Hang on a moment, my rocky friend,” Aeris said to Kronk. He was looking at Simon speculatively. “That's not such a bad choice actually.”

  “What?” Kronk stared at Aeris incredulously. “Do you want our master to harm himself again?”

  “Naturally not. But as far as offensive spells go, Magic Missile takes the least effort to cast. It is the first one that wizards learned back in the old days when they began battle training.”