James was right behind him and immediately hit the light switch. What they saw surprised both men. Jira stood alone in the tub, eyes wide with fear as she stared at her father. Both hands were clutched behind her back and she was visibly trembling.
James was the first to notice the small fact that one of those small bottles of shampoo motels supply to their guests hovered a few inches above the edge of the tub.
“Jira!” her father exclaimed with relief. He started forward to collect his daughter in his arms when he realized her fear had not subsided, that she was in fact fearful of him! “Jira?” he asked, perplexed.
Tears welled in her eyes. “I…I didn’t…Kenny let me use it!”
Of all the things she could have said, this was about as far from what he was expecting as possible. “Use…what?”
Her little arm moved from behind her back. Clutched in her hand was the birthday present James had given Kenny not very long ago. It was Kenny’s wand.
“Jira!” James exclaimed with great jubilation as he rushed forward.
She backed away believing he was going to hit her or mete out some other form of punishment.
“It’s okay,” he assured her. “I’m not mad, truly.” Taking the wand from her, James held it up for Jiron to see. “Do you know what this means?”
Jiron was still a bit confused and shook his head.
“Magic works here!” Flicking the wand, he said, “Lights!” Three bobbing lights, each a different color, appeared in the air before him. “Yes!” After allowing the lights to float and bob another moment, he said, “End!” and the lights winked out.
Turning to his friend, he held out his hand and concentrated on making his orb appear. When nothing happened, he shook his head, concentrated all the harder, and tried to force the magic to create his orb, the orb that he had made countless times before. But still nothing happened.
Jiron motioned for Jira to join him and together they left the bathroom. Each remained quiet as James tried repeatedly to call forth his orb, only to fail time and again.
“You still can’t do it?”
James shook his head. “I can’t even feel the presence of magic. Lights!” he commanded as he flicked the wand. When the three bobbing lights appeared, he could feel the pricking/tingling sensation, albeit to a very small degree, that he always felt when in close proximity to the working of magic.
“I can feel the wand’s magic when its spells are active, but I can’t connect to magic on my own.” Frustrated, he tried again to summon his orb, the most commonly used and easiest spell he knew. Nothing.
“If there is magic on your world,” stated Jiron, “why are you unable to access it?”
“I don’t know!” he exclaimed with more force than intended. “I should be able to.” Again he flicked the wand to summon the bobbing orbs. Again he tried in vain to create his orb. The magic would not come. Frustration began to build and started to border on anger before he threw the wand across the bathroom and stalked back out to the main room before slumping onto the bed.
Jiron picked up the wand and went to sit next to James. “This works, but you don’t,” he stated. “What’s different between you and the wand?”
James glanced at his friend. “I’m alive for one thing!” he spat back, frustration giving way to ire.
“Now, just calm down. Getting yourself flustered is not going to help the situation.” Holding the wand before them, he asked again, “What is different about the wand?”
Closing his eyes a moment to try and calm himself, he opened them again and gazed at the wand. “The wand uses magic inherent within the user,” he explained. “I long ago found out that every living thing has magic to one degree or another. The more complex the living thing is, the more magic it has within.”
“So,” began Jiron, “when you hold this and activate the spells, it is using magic that is within you?”
James nodded. “Exactly. Most things I make that are powered by magic have crystals that gather magic from the environment to fuel the spells. The wand was too small to contain a crystal so I formed the spells to make use of the magic within the user.”
“Wasn’t that dangerous?”
“No. I made sure the spells had a cut off point so they would never draw too much at any one time. Plus, the spells imbued within the wand are very basic, requiring minute levels of power.”
“Okay, the wand uses magic within you, but on your own, you can’t use the magic within you.”
“It looks that way,” replied a very frustrated James.
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“I know!” exclaimed James. He stared at the wand, angered by the fact it could work magic but that he couldn’t.
Jira came to Jiron. “I’m sorry, father.”
He gave her a smile. “It’s alright. We aren’t angry at you.” Taking her into his arms, he held her while at the same time considering James’ plight. After a few moments of silence he said to his friend, “Long before I met you, back when I was but a novice in the Pits, I was slated to fight the current Champion of the Pit.”
James glanced to his friend wondering why he felt the need to interrupt his pondering with this story.
“Greyga was his name. Six feet seven and built like a bull; those whom he had gone against in the past generally had come away crippled or dead. I couldn’t believe the Master of the Pits would have set me against him. I was scared, let me tell you.” Jira turned a surprised look upon her father. “Yes little Jira, I was frightened.”
“Before the fight I talked to Kehlan about the fact that I couldn’t beat him, that one new to the Pits such as myself could never hope to overcome someone like Greyga.”
James knew that the Kehlan whom Jiron was talking about had been the one who had discovered his fighting ability and introduced him to the Pits. He also knew that Kehlan was the self-same Igor who had initially brought him to Jiron’s world. “What did he say?”
“He said... ‘Whether you believe you can, or believe that you can’t, you’re right.’”
“What does that mean?”
“Before I answer, let me ask you this. What was one of the first things you said to me after we arrived upon your world?”
James thought back…
“I told you,” James had said, “magic doesn’t work here.”
“How can you be so sure?”
Sighing, James raised his hand and once more failed in an attempt to summon his orb. “I can’t even produce an orb,” he explained. “There is no magic.”
… “There is no magic. That’s what I said.”
Jiron nodded. “You believe you can’t, so you can’t.”
About to argue the point, James instead remained quietly thoughtful. Could it be true? Was his lack of magical ability simply a mental block? Thinking back to the book describing the basics of magic acquired just before traveling to Jiron’s world, he seemed to recall a passage which stated that one of the prerequisites for a mage to manipulate magical energy was the mage’s belief in his ability to do so.
All his life he had been taught that there was no magic; and so when he returned, the belief reasserted itself and became like a self-fulfilling prophecy. He believed he couldn’t, and thus, he couldn’t. But could he overcome it?
Using the wand, he again made the three bobbing spheres appear. The spells imbedded within the wand didn’t require a mage’s belief to work, they already had that when he created the wand. That’s why it worked. The imbedded spells reacted to commands and motions. There before him was proof incontrovertible that magic was real on Earth, and that it could be manipulated.
Holding out his hand, he said quietly to himself, “Magic is real. I can do magic. Magic is real.” Over and over he repeated the words. While still chanting his mantra, he concentrated on creating his sphere. “Magic is real. I can do magic. Magic is real.”
Seeking the magic, he tried to make a connection but it remained elusive. More and more he poured his concentra
tion upon bridging the gap between his mind and the magic within. His sight narrowed until the only thing he saw was the palm of his extended hand. “Magic is real. I can do magic. Magic is real.”
For the briefest moment he felt something before it slipped away. Encouraged, he narrowed his focus even further. “Magic is real!” “I…can…do…magic!!” The words came out with ever more volume and emphasis. “MAGIC IS REAL!!!”
He felt something give way within his mind and the connection was made. Power poured forth. A blazing star erupted on his palm. At first cool to the touch, the orb rapidly grew heated, causing him to draw his hand away quickly. Instead of the cool, soft light he had always created before, this time it was anything but.
Red flares erupted within the churning mass of yellow. Heat radiated outward in ever increasing degrees.
The withdrawal of his hand caused the orb to fall and begin smoldering atop the carpet. Wisps of smoke rose from where it lay. By the time James managed to cancel the spell, an area of the carpet a foot in diameter had blackened.
“You did it!” Jiron exclaimed triumphantly. Moving forward, he stomped the smoldering area with his foot. “Get some water,” he said to Jira who immediately raced to the sink and returned a moment later with a glass of water.
“Yeah,” agreed James, a touch of uncertainty in his voice that Jiron picked up on immediately.
“What?” his friend asked. For some reason, James wasn’t as happy about what had just happened as was he.
James remained quiet as he stared at the blackened area, now doused with the water Jira had fetched. His hand still throbbed a little from the unexpected heat radiated by the orb. It had never done that before. In all the times he had previously created his orb, never had it been more than a simple, glowing sphere of cool light.
He could sense the magic now as he had back on the island, waiting for him to access it and bend it to his will. Only, there was something different. James couldn’t quite put his finger on what that difference may be, but the magic felt altered somehow. Sort of like picking up a glass expecting there to be water, only instead, discovering a weak tea. That comparison fell far short of what he encountered but it was the best he could come up with.
“James?”
He turned to find Jiron staring worriedly at him. “Oh, uh, you were right. It was me who was inhibiting my own ability to perform magic. I’m past that now.”
“Do you think you can get us home now?”
James shook his head. “Such a process would take an immense amount of magic. Traversing worlds and the universe is a far cry more difficult than simply going from my island to The City of Light.”
“But it isn’t impossible?”
Before he answered, he remembered the crystal sitting in the pocket on his slug belt. Bringing it out, he peered closely at it. There, deep in the crystal’s center, was the beginning of an amber hue. The spells imbedded within the crystal were actively gathering power as they were made to do. “No,” he answered, still gazing at the light glowing in the crystal’s center. “It is not impossible.” Holding up the crystal he added, “But we’re going to need a lot more power.”
The following morning after the sun rose and breakfast was just a satisfying memory, they took a taxi to what the cab driver assured them was a shop where they could purchase crystals.
Lady Magdalene’s Emporium appeared a tad fancy for what James had in mind. Positioned as it was just off the strip along one of Vegas’ other major arteries, not to mention the small fact that other high class shops lined the street to either side, gave James some reservations about finding plain old ordinary quartz crystals.
When the cab stopped and the Emporium’s doorman came and opened the door for him, James asked the cabbie, “Are you sure this is the right place?”
“Yes sir,” the cabbie replied. “Lady Magdalene’s Emporium has the best crystal in town.”
“But I wanted raw, uncut crystals fresh from the ground,” James explained yet again.
The cabbie nodded and remained quiet.
“It looks a bit on the elegant side,” commented Jiron as he looked through the now opened cab door toward the Emporium’s entrance.
“Doesn’t it?” quipped James. “Well, if she deals in crystal, maybe she would know where we do need to go.” After giving the cabbie a twenty and telling him to keep the change, James stepped from the taxi.
Jiron and Jira followed after which the doorman closed the taxi’s door and slapped the roof, informing the driver it was okay to depart.
“Welcome to Lady Magdalene’s,” the doorman greeted as he hurried to beat them to the Emporium’s door and open it for them.
“Thank you,” replied James with a nod of the head.
He didn’t have to move much past the door before concluding this shop was much too expensive and ornate for what he required. Cut crystal glasses, plates, and everything else one could think of were elegantly displayed for the discriminating customer.
A young lady dressed to the nines who bore an air of superiority came forward as they moved farther in among the displays. It was clear she thought herself above them and that they had most likely lost their way. Dressed as they were in thrift store clothing looking all the worse for having been worn an extended time, she probably thought them a band of vagabonds looking for a handout.
“Can I help you?” she asked, her gaze traveling down her nose toward those whom she considered less than herself.
“The cabbie said I could find uncut crystals here,” James explained.
“Uncut?” she asked. “Hardly. We have only the finest crystal crafted by master craftsmen available. Your ‘cabbie’ was mistaken.”
James nodded, trying his best to remain unperturbed by the lady’s attitude. Such people must be tolerated with grace or one would totally lose it. “I figured as much. You wouldn’t happen to know some place where I could buy uncut crystals?”
Her face pursed as if she had eaten an ultra-sour lemon. James thought she might be having some sort of an attack until he realized she was merely thinking. “No,” she replied.
“You could try Harry’s place over in Henderson.”
The woman gave a wearied sigh as a young man some years her junior appeared from out of the back. Dressed much more commonly than the woman, he nevertheless had many of her characteristics although with a much nicer demeanor. A brother perhaps? Son?
“And I could find crystals there?” queried James.
“Oh sure,” the young man replied. “He has all sorts of stuff like that. He calls himself a mineral hunter. Always out in the hills and desert trying to find the next big cache of gems.”
“Harry is a lout,” commented the woman.
The young man laughed. “Of course he is mother. That’s why he and I get along so well.” Her eyes flashed but she remained quiet.
“Where can I find him?”
“If you can wait a sec, I’ll give you his address.”
“That would be great,” James said. “Thanks.”
“No problem.” Turning to head back to the rear of the shop, he said, “Be right back.”
As the woman’s son departed, James gave her a grin.
“Perhaps you could wait outside?” she suggested. “The crystal in here is very valuable and we wouldn’t want any…accidents.”
“If that would put your mind at ease.”
“Yes. It surely would.”
“As you wish, ma’am.” Indicating for Jiron and Jira to accompany him, they left the Emporium and waited out front by the curb for her son’s return. They didn’t have long to wait before he came hurrying through the doorway.
“Here,” the young man said, handing James a business card. One side bore the Emporium’s information while the other had a hastily scribbled address. “Tell him, Troy said hi.”
“Thanks again and we’ll be sure to do that.” Taking the card, he was about to turn and hail a taxi when one pulled up to the curb and stopped. The doorman ha
d beaten him to it.
Troy waved goodbye then returned back inside the Emporium. As they got into the taxi, James handed the cabbie the business card. “How much for a round trip to here?”
When the cabbie saw the address, and that it was in Henderson, he said, “Seventy-five.”
James handed him two twenties. “For the ride over. If you wait and take us back you’ll get another fifty.” Taking the two twenties, the cabbie nodded and took off heading south.
Henderson was a smaller town on the southern outskirts of Vegas. There weren’t the mega casinos as what Vegas offered, but there were still casinos to be had.
Harry’s place was exactly what James had pictured a crystal purveyor’s place to look like. Set some distance from town, it looked like a saloon from some old western, equipped with the double swinging doors and everything. Outside was a broken down wagon from the century before, and a corral off to the side boasted a single donkey.
Leaving the cab to wait, James almost expected to find an old ‘49er with bushy beard and floppy hat on the other side of the swinging doors. But instead, the place was empty.
It looked like it could be the right place, for there were tools of a prospecting nature in evidence leaning against walls and laid across tables. But of gems and crystals there was no sign.
“Are you sure this is the place?” questioned Jiron.
“That’s what the cabbie said.”
Moving into the near empty, aged saloon, James hollered, “Hello?” After a wait of several seconds he was about to call again when a door in the far wall creaked open. A man walked in dressed in jeans and a T-shirt that read, “Rocks are for Stoners.” Obviously a play on words for there was nothing about the man to indicate drug use.
“Are you Harry?” James asked.
“Guilty as charged,” the man replied with a grin. “What do you want?”
“Troy sent us.”
At that the man’s grin turned into a full blown smile revealing the whites of his teeth. “How is the young rascal? His mother kick him out yet?”
Light in the Barren Lands: Travail of The Dark Mage Book One Page 18