Master of the Five Magics

by Lyndon Hardy

  Another round of arrows came and two splintered off Alodar’s shield. With a fierce yell, he sprang over the bulwark and fell into the midst of the archers who faced them. He dropped the banner, drew his sword and hacked at the head of the one who stood dumbfounded nearby. “For Quantos,” he yelled.

  Then, in a massive wave, the marines responded. They swarmed over the gap and began swinging at the archers, who retreated towards middeck.

  The men pressing Feston turned and glanced at the commotion, hesitating in their own attack. Alodar waved his sword overhead and led the marines onto their rear. The others on the royal barge saw the men of the trireme drop back in confusion, trying to protect their suddenly exposed flank. Now sensing victory, Feston’s full contingent stormed over the rails. Basil gave the command and his men also followed. The oars of the trireme stopped and the rowers began to pour onto the deck from two hatches to aid their beleaguered comrades.

  The deck of the wargalley became a mad swirl of sword and shield, without pattern, as the two forces engaged. Alodar jabbed point first at the man on his right, while hastily raising his shield to the left to ward off an axe swinging down from a seeming giant. The blow numbed his arm, but he instinctively stepped forward to pass beyond the thrust of his foes as his own followers closed to engage them. The man on his left screamed and fell, spouting blood from neck and arm, as Quantos’ marines pressed on the attack. The trained fighters drew together and formed a line about Alodar. With him as the center, they began slashing forward to midship.

  Alodar’s mind slid into the intensity of concentration that Cedric had taught him, fear blotted out, eyes alert for an opening or a surprise thrust, and arm darting out to give pain. He swung his sword in a swift horizontal arc and felt the sharp blade bite into flesh as his adversary raised both arms high to crash downward an instant too late. With a cry already hoarse, he egged on the men who lagged on the left and closed up the right when the roll of the ship or blow of the foeman created a hole in their line. He moved his troop steadily forward, mindless of stinging cuts and slashes. Almost in a daze, he called halt when he recognized that only armbands with Feston’s red plume faced them. The wargalley was theirs and Alodar had had a taste of battle.

  Alodar leaned against the railing, still clutching Quantos’ banner, as he watched the transfer of prisoners from the trireme to the barge. He glanced about the deck to see that the thaumaturgical wax he had used on the more serious wounds was safely stored away. The larger vessel now rode quite low in the water and even listed slightly to the side. A steady procession of divers dropped over the rail, each one adding another nail to fix a makeshift patch over the ragged hole ripped by the wargalley. The fog had lifted with the beginning of a gentle breeze, but it would be many hours more before the repair was tight, the water bailed from the bilge, and the barge again underway.

  One by one, the followers of Feston and Basil emerged from the trireme’s hold, carrying back what meager plunder there was aboard. Then amidst a general murmur from both decks, a knot of closely linked figures emerged, all save one with arms across their faces, nearly stumbling as they groped forward to the gangplank.

  “The sorcerer from the trireme,” Alodar heard Grengor say at his side. “Only an enchanted vision could have guided that ship undetected in the fog through the surrounding fleet and so unerringly into the barge’s side. Had we not more than twice the normal crew, they well might have ripped us from stem to stern before we could have grappled her. The kingdoms to the south sorely press the fair lady on land and nearly cut off her aid as well.”

  In the middle of the block of men that stumbled forward, Alodar saw a mane of unruly hair shake free, and then a face contorted with rage, surrounding deep-set and burning eyes. Almost instinctively, Alodar flung his hand in the way of the glare, menacing even at a distance.

  “A sorcerer who has been thwarted makes a most dangerous captive,” he said. “The guard we place around him better be both careful and complete. But his presence reminds me of why I am here. I must go below and seek out the sorcerer of the queen.”

  “And your instruction during your absence, master?” Grengor asked. “Are we to remain on station here in the stern, transfer to the trireme as part of the queen’s crew when it takes station with the rest of the fleet, or can we go below, since the watch bells have long since sounded?”

  Alodar turned in puzzlement to face the sergeant. He saw a round face set on a stocky form, wide-set green eyes, large and trusting, and a plain mouth between jaws of crushing strength. “Why do you ask me, Grengor? Why not ask the one who commands in Quantos’ place?”

  “I beg your pardon, sir,” Grengor said. “Our band is small, now not even a dozen, but we have fought together for many years under Quantos’ banner. In our grief, I—we all feel that none of us has the wit to lead the others. But rather than disperse to follow the banner of one of the lords, we would rather answer to you, wherever you may lead us. Indeed you are no Quantos, but you showed much spirit in what happened today. We have decided among ourselves that this is as he would have had it.”

  Alodar’s jaw dropped in surprise, but before he could answer, a page wearing the same colors as he bounded up the ladder to the deck.

  “Attend to our lady,” the newcomer said. “She is accompanied by the sorcerer Kelric in her cabin at this moment.”

  “On station until I return,” Alodar said hastily. He turned and followed the other page down the ladder, his mind aswirl with what the sergeant had said.

  “Alodar, you are safe,” Aeriel cried as he entered her cabin a few minutes later. “I heard that Quantos was felled and members of his troop as well. I did not know if you were among them.”

  “There are losses enough for which to grieve,” Alodar said, “and we are lucky to be still afloat.” He looked at Kelric, slumped on a small stool in the corner. “The power of sorcery was great indeed.”

  Kelric tipped back his head and laughed. “Sorcery!” he cackled. “The power of sorcery. It reads so easy in the sagas. Pressed on land from the west and south, and on the sea, as well. And when all seems blackest, a simple charm saves them all so they may live in contentment thereafter.”

  Alodar looked around the plain cabin and saw it was no larger than his own. Aeriel sat on the bunk, dressed in men’s breeches and tunic. To her left, on a small chest, was a pile of documents and the quills and seals. There were no other chairs and Alodar stood facing the two, leaning against the wall.

  “But a single charm might activate the eye, and then it will be as the sagas say,” he replied.

  “It is not so easy,” Kelric said. “The charm for what you have is most complex. You cannot learn it unless you are proficient and, more importantly, are confident in many a charm of lesser power. Without the basis to build upon, a sorcerer’s eye will be forever useless to you.’”

  “But why is that?” Alodar asked. “Certainly in thaumaturgy, alchemy, and even magic, each spell is entire unto itself. Even if learned by rote, it has no bearing on the others.”

  “The difference, lad,” Kelric said, “is that each of those arts manipulates the physical objects and forces about us. Sorcery deals instead with a matter much more elusive, our minds. You cannot see or touch the medium with which you work. And the subtle and intricate will be totally missed, unless you become familiar with the rough outlines first.”

  “The words are different, but the message is the same as with the other crafts.” Alodar sighed. He shook his head and looked back at Kelric. “No matter, regardless of the effort, I am ready.”

  “Well then, let us start at the beginning,” Kelric said. “There are five types of charms in sorcery. A charm of prophecy or far-seeing is a cantrip; a charm of illusion is a glamour; a charm of fate is a curse; dominance of one’s will by the sorcerer is enchantment; and transfer of consciousness from one animate object to another is ensorcellment. To take effect, charms are recited three times or, as the Rule of Three states, ‘thrice spoken, on
ce fulfilled.’”

  “I noted at the royal ball that you cast your glamour in that repetitious way. Each word seemed to follow the next in a pattern but somehow with a logic that I could not follow.”

  “Yes, the chanting of the charm is all. Great skill and practice are necessary to say all of the words with the proper rhythm and intonation for success. The slightest falter produces hallucinations and head pains that can last for weeks. In my own practice, I have misspun a charm but twice and the memories still give me a shudder. Not only are even the most simple charms difficult, but they must be mastered before a more complex one can be attempted. As one proceeds towards completion, each word somehow becomes more difficult to slide off the tongue, harder to remember. Indeed, the more complex and powerful spells create back pressures that cannot be comprehended by one who has not tried his mettle on hurdles more easily surmounted. And the greater the charm, the greater is the sickness and agony for failure. It takes a stout heart to attempt such castings, knowing the difficulty and the consequences of error. If anything is the mark of the sorcerer, it is possession of enormous bravery.”

  “Then why not carry a grimoire as does the alchemist?” Alodar asked. “Or have a library, like the magician guilds. Reading from a correct text to reduce the risks would seem easy enough.”

  “Because,” Kelric responded, “no written language or special symbology yet evolved can convey the precise nuances of tone which are essential for a successful charm. They are passed by word of mouth from unwilling teacher to foolish pupil, from generation to generation. It is the only way that the lore of sorcery is preserved. And far better it would be if the craft sank into decay, as has the practice of wizardry.”

  Alodar frowned. “Why do you always deprecate your craft, master Kelric?”

  “Why? You ask why?” Kelric snorted. “Is it not obvious? Oh, I was like you once, young and eager, lured by the promise of power, the respect of all with whom I dealt, the ability to control and mold the thoughts of others to my will.”

  Kelric paused and closed his eyes for a moment, pulling the memories to the surface of his thoughts. “And I succeeded,” he said, again looking Alodar in the eye. “I learned quickly and discovered many new charms known to no others. I acquired the fame of masters many years my senior. But at the same time I lost what every sorcerer looses and can never regain… Today’s battle is over. When you leave you will share a slap on the back and a few tall stories with your comrades in arms. You will relax in each other’s presence, feeling warm in the glow of friendship and trust. But it would not be so if you were a sorcerer. What man then would talk with you over a cup of rum, or bet the bill on who is first to pinch the barmaid? And what woman would come willingly into your arms and look trustingly into your eyes as you murmured sweet nothings? You would be shunned by all and dealt with only by necessity. Only by spilling some of your vital forces would you see an occasional glimpse of soft thigh and at that you would judge yourself lucky. It takes bravery to be a sorcerer, I have said, and far more than what is required to cast the charms.”

  The cabin was silent for a minute and Alodar looked at Aeriel, then darted his eyes away. “My quest is for the hand of the queen,” he said. “The embrace does not matter.”

  He nodded slowly and touched the pouch with the sphere at his side. “Let us return to the matter of instruction,” he said. “If sorcery is taught by oral means only, how then do new charms ever come about? It would seem that the number would gradually diminish away as masters met untimely ends before they could pass on their heritage.”

  “New charms are always in the making,” Kelric replied. “The trances you see me slip into to aid my concentration in matters of prophecy are not only a crutch for an old man. No indeed, the trance is primarily the means by which the master frees his mind of the encumbrances of this existence. With it he opens up his inner self and seeks out the states where the cadences of charms roll like thunder and the words flash in strokes of lightning before the eyes. Upon return to the here and now, often the mind is exploding with the power of a new charm hitherto unknown to man.”

  “Then why not effect such a state often,” Aeriel asked, “and bring back great powers that can only accumulate with time?”

  “Alas, my lady,” Kelric replied, “it is as I have often said. Each charm enacted, even the trance of seeking, subtracts something of vital presence from the sorcerer who uses it. Each of us is born with a fixed supply of whatever is his for life; once we have used it all, we perish. And the leeching of inner power depends on the strength of the charm. I restrict myself now only to illusions for the court or simple prophecies of short range and even for those I need the aid of sand, fire, or cards. I dare not try to enchant a single person, no matter how shallow his mind, for fear of consuming all that remains.”

  “Then why do you not have more interest in the eye?” Alodar interrupted. “You said that it can amplify the powers that a sorcerer naturally possesses.”

  “No, my pulse does not quicken as I think of the sphere,” Kelric said. “I am so small a shadow of my prime that I dare not use such a device. It means nothing to me, though in the hands of a young man, a fool with no thought of the morrow, such an eye indeed increases the charm of enchantment a thousand fold.

  “You see, despite the fear in which sorcerers are held, despite the way arms are flung over eyes when we approach, enchantment is not easily achieved. Remember that the charm must be recited thrice and eye-to-eye contact must be maintained throughout the third recital. It is not easily accomplished if the intended victim is on guard. And the more insidious enchantments are the hardest of all to effect. The complete extinction of consciousness is the easiest by far. You become the automaton of the sorcerer and think your own thoughts no more.

  “But the more subtle enchantments in which some or most of your own free will and thoughts remain are very difficult. The charms are long, the restive forces great, and the drain on the vitality greater still. Yet, how sublime is that charm that gives you the heart of a lady and changes nothing else! She feels she acts of her own free will but the grip of enchantment binds her to you. It is this power which makes the sorcerer so feared.

  “And such is the strength of the eye that it can give the master the potency the sagas ascribe to him. Gaze on it but an instant and you are undone. From the crushing of all free thought to the gentlest suggestion, it will be as the sorcerer wills it. And more besides; when the lid is open, the eye reaches out and compels, drawing you to look, tempting you, forcing you, conjuring you for just one little glance and then you are trapped forever.

  “But enough for now,” Kelric concluded. “It depresses me to think of it further. Tomorrow, if you still are steadfast in your foolishness, we will start with the cantrip for the tossed die.”

  “I will be at your cabin door,” Alodar said. “Your words have not dissuaded me.”

  Kelric scowled and then looked at Aeriel. “And now my lady, what are your plans for the next hour?”

  “I must readjust some of the berth assignments,” Aeriel replied, waving to the littered chesttop, “and then confer with the cooks to reaffirm that we are well enough provisioned.”

  “Then I suppose the chance of your changing into something less practical while I am here is slight?” He leered.

  “Oh, begone, Kelric,” Aeriel said, “and try your persuasive manner on one of the other women of the court.”

  “As my lady wishes.” With shoulders stooped the sorcerer shuffled out of the room.

  Aeriel and Alodar remained in silence pondering Kelric’s words for several minutes longer. Then she arose and turned up the wick of the single lamp hung on the cabin wall.

  “You show great trust in me, Aeriel,” Alodar said, “and I pledge to show it is well placed. When I can control the eye, I will use it most certainly to benefit the queen.”

  Aeriel turned to look back at Alodar with a small smile. “You have demonstrated your worth already, Alodar. Else I would n
ot have striven to aid you when you petitioned in Ambrosia. I ask only that you serve her with your head as well as your heart. The latter is too frail an organ to use in affairs of state.”

  “My motives are indeed from the heart,” Alodar admitted, “although not in the way that you might think. But what of you? What draws you to such service of the queen?”

  “It is apparent, is it not,” Aeriel replied, “that Vendora never can be truly certain of counsel given her by any man? She has great need for someone to see through the emotion to the truth that lies underneath.”

  “Then what is your reward for the service that you provide to the crown?” Alodar asked.

  Aeriel rubbed her eyes and looked at the pile of documents. “There are times indeed when I wonder why I travel the path I do. But my father served Vendora’s as minister of most grave counsel. Alas, I was an only child. But I have tried to aid the crown of Procolon in the tradition of my family nonetheless. As for the drones who buzz about Vendora, enough of them seek her favor first through me that I have few idle hours in Ambrosia. Fortunately I am keen enough to see through their interests, so that I have not been greatly disappointed. And those who are not so dull, those who indeed might…”

  Aeriel broke off and lowered her head with a touch of color in her cheeks.

  “I tell too much,” she said. “The petitioners who beset the fair lady concern me not at all. I am no longer Vendora’s companion in whispered schoolgirl romances. She is now the queen and I her counselor. Such petty concerns are from long ago.”

  “Shall you then spend the rest of your days in Vendora’s shadow, passing into spinsterhood as the reward for your dedication?”

  “I said, Alodar, that I have not been disappointed in my dealings with the men of the court, nor have I been a recluse. As for the course of my life, it will depend upon the man the fair lady settles upon as her consort. If he is strong enough to rule Procolon through her, then perhaps I will no longer be needed and can then seek my own destiny.”