Eye of the Moonrat (The Bowl of Souls: Book One)

by Cooley, Trevor H.

  Justan’s eyes opened to complete whiteness. His hip ached with a dull pain. Justan lifted his left hand in front of his eyes. It was unbandaged. He attempted to make a fist. His fingers clenched without pain, though his tendons seemed a little stiff. He looked down and saw that his body was covered in a light blanket. He was in a bed.

  Justan was in a white painted room filled with small beds, though few were occupied. The beds on either side of Justan’s were empty, but a bed across the aisle held a familiar face. It was Zambon. The guard was sleeping, but his cheeks were flushed with color and he breathed without struggle.

  Justan smiled. They must be in the Mage School. His suspicion was confirmed when he heard a door open with a bang. Vannya smiled when she saw that he was awake and ran across the room. She sat on the empty bed beside him.

  “Justan! How do you feel?”

  “I guess that I’m fine, though my hip still hurts a little.” He was happy to see her pretty face looking back at him. He had thought himself a dead man.

  “Hmm,” she murmured and reached across him to grab his blanket. She started to pull it down across his chest.

  “Whoa!” Justan realized that he was naked underneath the thin blanket. He snatched the blanket back and pulled it up to his chin. “What are you doing?”

  Vannya chuckled and her face turned a little red. “I am a healer, remember? I have to have contact to work properly. Trust me.” Justan reluctantly released his death grip on the thin blanket and she brought it down to his waist. Vannya gasped, one hand shooting to her mouth.

  “Justan! What is that? Does it hurt?” She stared at the frost rune glittering on his chest.

  “Oh, I thought you knew.” He briefly told her about his encounter with the Scralag.

  “Fascinating,” she said and traced the silvery scar with one finger. “It's still cold.” Her faced turned red again. “Sorry.”

  Her hands moved down his sides to grasp him on the side of either hip. Justan wished he were anywhere else but there. He didn’t know how to react having this unbelievably attractive woman touching his bare hips. Vannya closed her eyes and her brow furrowed as she concentrated.

  Justan looked down and his vision shifted. He saw lightly colored flows of blue and gold energy leave from her hands into his waist. The twinge of pain in his pelvis stopped and she released him.

  “See?” she said and pulled his blanket back up. “The break is pretty much healed, but when an injury of that magnitude is healed, even magically, it is going to take a while for your body to readjust. Your hip will protest for a while. To keep from aggravating it, you need to stay in bed for a week.”

  “A week?” Justan sputtered. “I don’t think so!” He started to get out of bed until he remembered that he was still naked under the blanket.

  “Yes, a week. By then your body will be fully adjusted. You will probably be as good as new.” He glared at her until she acquiesced a little. “Okay, if you want to push it, you only have to stay in bed for two days. But you will be confined to the infirmary until the end of the week. That’s it, no arguing.”

  Justan still wasn’t happy with the idea, but he had a question or two. “Vannya, what happened? All I remember is being hit and that orc standing over me.”

  “As soon as you went down, Riveren split that orc’s head like it was a ripe melon. It was really gross,” she said, her petite little nose wrinkled. “After that, we dragged you and the three captured orcs to the top of the ravine.”

  “Three? What about the fourth one?” he asked

  “The one you stabbed in the buttocks?” she asked with a slight grin.

  Justan nodded his head and returned the grin. He wasn’t exactly proud of the tactic. The creature had been lying there helpless after all, but he had done what he felt was necessary to goad Marckus into fighting him.

  Vannya shrugged. “We don’t know. In all the confusion, it must have limped away. One of the guards is out tracking it now.”

  “How did you get Zambon, me, and three orcs back to the Mage School?”

  “Well, Zambon was in really bad shape. It took pretty much all of our magical strength just to fight off all of the infection in his wounds. Belly wounds are the toughest, you know. There are so many little cuts that need to be repaired on internal organs and veins and tissues. Anyway, we variable him up as best as we could and I kept you unconscious so that you would sleep through the pain. As far as how we got out of there with you, we were forced to send Qyxal back to the school for help.”

  “But how did you and Riveren take care of two wounded men and three angry orc prisoners until he got back?” Justan asked.

  “I took care of you two, while Riveren watched the prisoners.” She frowned for a moment. “He wouldn’t even let me touch those terrible burns on his body until help came. He was acting ridiculous. It wouldn’t have taken much for me to at least relieve some of the pain.”

  Justan thought he understood why. Riveren was punishing himself for being captured and putting everyone in danger. Besides, he had just been through a very traumatic experience. Sometimes you needed a little pain to keep you focused.

  “What he was doing wasn’t that difficult,” she continued. “All he did was wait until one of them fussed and hit it on the head with the flat of his axe. But we didn’t have too keep it up for long anyway. Qyxal was less than half way there when he met up with a contingent of guards and wizards coming to our rescue.”

  Justan smiled. Evidently in the right situation, the council wouldn’t wait for a meeting to decide something important. When the stable man told them what was happening, they must have organized the party right away.

  “Anyway, when we got back here to the school, we were in big trouble.”

  “Why? What did you do wrong?” Justan wondered.

  She took a deep breath and did her best impression of a stuffy old wizard. “Well, we ‘left school grounds without permission, acted irresponsibly and in doing so, corrupted a younger student.’ Yeah, I think that’s what they said.”

  “You should have told them the truth.” Justan felt bad about getting her and Qyxal in trouble. “I’m the one who dragged you both into it. Blame it on me. I don’t care. They already punished me enough just by making me come here.”

  “Oh, please. You didn’t make me do anything. Qyxal and I both knew we were breaking the rules when we went along with you. We were willing to face the consequences when we left.” She leaned over conspiratorially. “Besides, it wasn’t that bad. Each of the professors congratulated us privately when it was all over. We were pretty much given a token punishment so that the other students wouldn’t think they were being soft on us.”

  “Let me guess, you got ‘infirmary duty’.”

  “For a week.”

  He leaned back and put his hands behind his head. “So, is it hard work taking care of us sick people all day?”

  “Actually, I’m cleaning floors. Oh! I need to get back to work before Miss Guernfeldt gets back.” She stood up and for the first time Justan noticed that her robes were dirty and damp.

  “Guernfeldt?”

  “She’s the matron of the infirmary. Very strict on working students. Also on patients, so don’t think that you are getting out of bed before I said you could. I am going to inform her of your schedule.” She turned and worked her way around some beds to get out of the room.

  Justan called after her. “I saw it, you know.”

  “What?” she called back.

  “The magic. When you were, uh, fixing my hip, just a minute ago. I saw the magic coming out of your fingers and into my hip.”

  She grinned and her eyes lit up. “Oh, that’s wonderful! Usually it takes a cadet a week to figure out how to use his mage sight. I’ve got to tell Master Latva!” She ran out of the room.

  “Latva?” Justan had no idea who that was. After Vannya left, he stared at the ceiling and thought about everything that had happened to him in the last few days. It was amazing to think that j
ust a few short weeks ago he had been training for the Training School tests.

  He closed his eyes and reached deep into his mind searching for Gwyrtha. He hadn’t even had a chance to think about her with all of the things that had been going on. He found her warm presence in the corners of his mind. The bond was faint at this distance and he had to concentrate harder than he had in the past, but from the flashes of sights and sounds he was able to pull up, she was in the forest, frolicking and playing with some elven children. That was surprising because he hadn’t seen a single child during his brief stay with the elves.

  Gwyrtha noticed his intrusion and he felt a surge of affection and concern for his well being come from her. She had noticed his distress the night before, but the elves wouldn't let her leave. Justan grinned and concentrated on sending her an account of his harrowing battle the night before. Her response was happiness that he was okay and a feeling of regret for not being able to fight by his side. Justan wasn’t sure, but somehow her responses seemed quite a bit more intelligent than they had been when he had first bonded with her.

  Justan needed to learn more about what had caused this connection. Some of the wizards might be able to explain it, but he couldn’t ask the wizards about it without letting them know of her existence. He would have to do some study in the library on his own and see if he could find an answer.

  The door to the room slammed open, startling him from his reverie. In walked a rather large woman with a nasty mole on the side of her chin. Her hair was a dirty shade of brown and was tied back in a tight bun. Her features looked to be chiseled from stone and her arms were thick and powerful like they weren’t arms at all, but tree trunks. She must be Miss Guernfeldt.

  Following the massive woman was an old man with a crooked hat who walked slightly hunched over with the use of a staff. He was the perfect picture of an old wizard with a long white beard and voluminous blue robe. But his youthful blue eyes had a twinkle in them that made his age look like an act. Walking beside the old man was a gaunt gnome that Justan hadn’t yet met, carrying a stack of papers and a large silver-bound book.

  The old wizard took a seat on the empty bed beside Justan’s. Once again, Justan was well aware that with these strangers in the room, he was naked but for a thin blanket. It made him feel, well, naked. The old man spoke and his voice sounded nothing like Justan would have expected. It was a voice full of life and energy.

  “Greetings, Justan, son of Faldon the Fierce. First let me say that this is the first time I have given this speech to so small an audience. Usually I have at least twenty or thirty cadets at the same time.” The old wizard coughed into his hand and cleared his throat, a raspy sound that conflicted with his clear speaking tone.

  “I am Latva, so named at the Bowl of Souls in this school fifty years ago.” The old man pulled the sleeve back on his left arm and opened his left hand so that Justan could see a rune emblazoned upon his palm, the mark of a named wizard.

  The naming of wizards was a bit different than the naming of warriors. A wizard’s use of magic was dependent on his knowledge of himself and his abilities. A magic user who was truly at one with his own abilities could unleash much greater levels of magic. The naming of a wizard was a confirmation of this oneness. It was a mark of power.

  Unlike warriors, a wizard could attempt the naming once a year throughout his life. This was done by completing the proper rituals and dipping the blade of one’s ceremonial knife into the water of the Bowl of Souls. If he were found worthy, his true wizard name would be given to him.

  Justan was in awe. He had never met a named wizard before. “Uh . . . nice to meet you, Master Latva.”

  The old master chuckled at the expression on Justan’s face. Latva had seen the same expression on the faces of thousands of different people who met him for the first time.

  “Calm down, young man. I am still just a man like you. The reason that I introduced myself so, is for you to understand the importance of what we are about to do.”

  “What is that?”

  Both of the wizard’s eyebrows shot up. “We are inducting you into the school as a cadet, of course.”

  “Here?” Justan asked in disbelief.

  “Why of course. It’s as good a place as any.”

  Justan looked at the matron who stood sternly with her arms crossed in front of her. “Shouldn’t I be wearing more clothes or something?”

  “Pah!” The master said, waving the idea away with one hand. “Were you not naked for your birth? That was a much more auspicious occasion than this.” He leaned forward and with a twinkle in his eye, added, “in some cultures, one has to be naked for such a ceremony! For instance, in the Guataga people, a man must wear nothing but a-.”

  The gnome standing beside the bed grunted, and the wizard stopped what he was about to say. “Oh, yes, well, hand me the papers please, Alfred.” The gnome complied and handed a small stack of documents to the master. “Thank you.”

  Latva pulled a pair of spectacles from within his robes. Justan thought that the glasses were for the wizard, but instead the old man handed them up to the gnome. “Here, Alfred, try not to lose them again. Now please turn to the proper page.” While Alfred opened the silver tome, the wizard set the papers beside him on the bed. He looked back at Justan.

  “Magic, is part of all life,” the wizard began and extended his left hand. Above the rune on his hand appeared a flame. “It is in the elements.”

  The flame on his hand was blown out by a gust of wind and became a rock. A crack appeared in the rock and water poured out of it.

  “The four elements make up all magic. Fire, air, earth, and water. We are all made up of these tiny little elements, or intelligences.” The mage looked at Justan. “Raise your hand.”

  Justan raised his hand.

  “No, higher. In front of your eyes.” Justan complied and the wizard said, “Watch.”

  The air around Justan’s hand shimmered and his vision zoomed in so that he could see it close up. His vision zoomed in closer.

  “Do you see the elements?” The wizard asked. Justan shook his head. He saw all of the tiny ridges of his hand, but could see no little elements. “Look a little closer,” the wizard bade.

  The vision zoomed in even more. Justan could see a foreign landscape of flesh where little alien blobs and creatures with waving feelers moved about. He wrinkled his face in disgust. Were all those tiny things living on his hand?

  “Look closer,” the wizard said and the scene tightened again. Now Justan could make out tiny networks of structures clumped together. “This is as close as I can show you, but if you could look still closer, you would see that those little clusters are made of even tinier structures, which are made of even tinier structures and so on. The tiniest of the structures are the true elements, the tiny building blocks of all matter that we wizards call intelligences. At the Mage School, we learn to control these little intelligences. That is what we call magic.”

  Justan was stunned as the vision dissipated. How large the world seemed, when confronted by the smallest of things. Magic was starting to sound interesting.

  The wizard smiled. “We have three mottos here at the Mage School: We search for knowledge. We reveal the truth. We advance that which is right.” Justan nodded thoughtfully. The wizard handed him a sheet of parchment with the mottos written on it. “Remember them well.”

  Latva lifted the rest of the papers from beside him and held them out to Justan. The master spoke out in an official tone, “Justan, son of Faldon the Fierce, do you wish to enter the Mage School as a cadet?”

  “Yes sir, I do.” Justan replied, and for the first time he really meant it. If Valtrek had shown him like this, he might have been willing to come to the Mage School on his own.

  “Very good. The rules for cadets are all here. This last sheet is your class schedule. It isn’t quite like the normal schedule for first year cadets, but you are not like most first year cadets, so it will have to do. Your first class st
arts today after dinner with Professor Beehn.”

  He motioned to the gnome who held out the silver-bound book to an open page. Justan saw a long list of signatures. Master Latva handed him a pen. “Sign your name here. You will be held to a two year contract pursuant to all the rules and regulations thereof.”

  Justan didn’t see a need to hesitate and signed right away. The Master lifted the book, examined his signature, and smiled. “Mage Vannya tells me that you have seen the flows of magic, is this true?”

  Justan nodded, “I think I have, sir.”

  Latva turned the book back towards Justan. “Do you see it now?” Justan just saw lettering on the page. The old wizard shook his head.