Suddenly, an incredibly loud noise and immense flash of light assaulted him as a great force slammed into his body, flinging him backwards through the air, depositing him on his already sore left side. Rolling to his feet, he shook his head to clear his mind and the ringing in his ears, then stared at where he had stood the moment before. Whatever it was had just moved him a good ten feet! Then he saw something that surprised him even more; a four-foot-tall flame rose from the center of the rocks. Incredulous, he cautiously circled around it, not knowing what to expect. Was it caused by the burning grass? No. While all the dry grass was now afire, it burned quietly with a low, calm flame. The large flame clearly came from where the vapors exited the earth.
The Vapors burn! It seemed miraculous that something unseen burned as if a great pile of wood were in its place. How large would the flame become if he were to let more of the vapors escape? Eager to see, he ran fifty paces up the path toward the Great Tree and moved the slab once more. After the same delay as before, the flame sprang to life, rapidly growing until it towered over thirty feet high. A great roar fill his ears, mightier than the rapids of a river, and its light rivaled that of the sun. He approached it but soon stopped—thirty paces distant—for the heat became too intense to venture further. Worried that the nearby trees might catch fire, he moved the slab fully back into its crevice, even tighter than before. The flame soon dwindled to a small flicker which sputtered away to nothing.
Squatting on his heels, Marc stared at the opening in the rocks. This truly was a marvel. He remembered Oren talking about show. This was definitely the best kind of show he could imagine. It should have an equally impressive name as well, something akin to Devil’s Breath that described how a massive flame might come from the earth. A terror so frightful one might think the very gates of Hell had opened, letting slip some of the fire used to torment the sinful. A wide grin expanded on his face. Yes, Hell’s Gate sounded perfect. Chuckling, Marc realized he was becoming quite comfortable with his role as a wizard. Did any of his predecessors know that the vapors burned in this fashion? He imagined seeing Oren’s master, Arturius, demonstrating to the nearby villagers why they should not enter the Forbidden Vale. A great fire from Hell’s Gate would have been enough to keep even the most skeptical person away. Even him. Well, the old him.
Elated, Marc could not wait to share his discovery. —Master. I’ve got great news—
—Not now,— Oren said, then abruptly broke the Link. Instead of being irritated at being disturbed, the master seemed excited about something. While curious as to what Oren was up to, he quickly suppressed the temptation to Envision him. If it was something he needed to know, the master would tell him later. Rising, he stomped out the remnants of the burning grass and made sure no fire remained to threaten the forest.
Thrilled that he had learned the spark fairly well, Marc concentrated the rest of his time on practicing Floating and the Blade. Each time he felt his ability and understanding had improved enough, he moved further away from the Great Tree’s influence. If he was to truly learn these skills, it would have to be without any outside help.
It was late in the afternoon and he was about five hundred paces from the tree when he felt Valeria’s spirit touch him—she was cheerful to the point of bursting. Less than a minute later, he again he felt her joy. Was she trying to contact him? Risking Oren’s displeasure, Marc allowed himself a brief peek. His magic found her in the workshop, dancing about the room while Oren looked on, smiling. The master looked in his direction, nodding in acknowledgment. Marc knew why she was so happy.
—Val just learned the Great Secret, hasn’t she, Master?—
Chapter 21
Exhausted, Marc walked on. Even with the help of the Great Tree, the day’s practice had drained him, both mentally and physically, and he looked forward to getting home. Cresting the last rise, his heart leapt as he caught sight of the great stone wall. Almost there. As he neared it, the structure loomed over him, nearly twice his height, its shadow trailing off some ten paces in the late afternoon sun. Turning, he walked along its length, running his hand across the surface. Even though he had done this dozens of times, he still marveled at the variety of textures and colors of the rocks used to build it. Some were rough to the touch, light gray granite, flecked with bits of black, blue and pink. Others were smoother, like quartz, with irregular ribbons of dark stone running through a translucent dirty-white. Then there was the black, shiny stone; he knew of no name for it. Its surface was nearly perfect in its smoothness, with edges formed of jagged crests that were as sharp as a well-honed knife. Framing everything was a mantle of gray-white mortar.
In a way, the wall gave him comfort. It meant something to him, but he wasn’t sure what. Maybe the protection it offered, or perhaps it spoke of the reverence shown to past wizards. Marc knew that these walls, and the area inside of them, were part of him. He belonged here. This was his home now, not Oak Creek. Slipping through the gate, he hurried toward the house, eager to share the day with Val and Master Oren.
She met him at the door, her smile wide and eager, her eyes alive with excitement. As she kissed him firmly, it surprised him to hear, —I love you, Marc.—
Breaking the kiss, he gently held her face with both hands and looked into her eyes, Linking as gently as he could, —And I love you.— She winced, causing him to remember his own pain when he first learned to communicate mind to mind. “No more Linking for now.” He kissed her forehead. “I’m so happy for you. Now you will learn everything.”
Valeria stepped back, looking him up and down with interest. “Your power has grown much since this morning and—” Her gaze fell upon his left side. “You’re injured. What happened to your leg?”
He gave her a lopsided grin. “I had a few mishaps while practicing my lessons.”
“Come in and let Valeria attend to your injuries,” Oren called from the doorway. “She needs a rest from learning magic, and I from teaching it. Having two apprentices is much work for this old wizard.” With a heavy sigh, the elder reentered the house.
Taking Marc’s hand, Valeria led him inside. “I want to hear all about today.”
After being deposited near the fireplace, Marc told of his training and practice while Valeria cleansed his wounds. When he spoke of altering the flow of the vapors, Oren took great interest.
“At one time I sought the source of the Devil’s Breath, but it seemed to have no bottom. Tell me more.”
“I found no bottom, either. But I did find a place where I can change how the vapors come out.” As Marc shared his experience, his audience listened with rapt attention.
“Remarkable.” Oren said. “If my memory is correct, no wizard has ever controlled the vapors in that way. Let us refer to the wizard’s journal.”
Wizard’s journal? Marc had not heard of this before. The master’s magic extended beyond him into the workshop. Moments later, a large, flat book glided into the room and through the air to Oren’s hands.
“This is a chronicle of the major events that have taken place in the lives of the wizards who have served here. The first entry was made three hundred and ninety six years ago.” Opening it, Oren searched through the aged parchment. “There was a time when the Breath flowed strongly for years.”
Valeria carefully touched the binding of the book. “Why have you not shown us this until now?”
“The journal is to be seen only by those wizards who know the great truth for the entries herein are written openly. No pretense to casting spells is mentioned. Even so, we are careful to avoid any mention of the secret should this somehow fall into the wrong hands.” Oren’s finger slid down the outside margin of the vellum and stopped near the bottom. “Yes, here it is. Elnorus reports of a time the earth shook all over the land. That day he found the Devil’s Breath to be yielding a much larger quantity of vapors, so much that even from a half-mile away the air was most unpleasant. He tried everything to halt it but the flow continued.” Oren scanned further ahead.
“Ah. Almost six years later it ceased after the ground shook once more.” Closing the book, Oren Floated it over to the table, then smiled at him. “Marc, you are the first wizard to master the Devil’s Breath. Well done.” A look of fatherly pride almost glowed from the master’s face.
While he appreciated Oren’s compliment, Marc could hardly contain himself. “But that is nothing compared to what happened next.” He quickly told about making a spark near the vapors. “It was hotter than a hundred fires. Then I undid everything and the flame died away. I’m thinking of calling it Hell’s Gate. What do you think?”
Oren, who until now had been bent forward, focused on Marc’s every word, leaned back into the cushions behind him. “Astounding.” His mouth moved silently as if searching for words. “Utterly astounding. I must see this.”
Val took Marc’s hand, squeezing it almost to the point of pain. “I must as well. Let’s see it now.”
The keen glint in her eyes told him she was ready to run there if need be, but he did not feel like making the journey. Not only was he very tired, but his left knee and hip had grown more tender as the evening progressed. “I need to rest and so does Master Oren.”
“Very much so,” Oren said, putting a foot upon a stool. “He will demonstrate this remarkable discovery in the morning.” Valeria began to protest but Oren lifted his hand in the manner he often used while teaching. “As we discussed earlier, madam witch, someone with our powers needs to be in better control of their impulses.”
She deflated like a water skin being poured out. “Yes, Master. Today was so grand, so exciting—” Her smile returned. “To have seen the great flame would have been the perfect end to the day.”
“Then tomorrow it will be all the more special.” The master looked at Marc. “What happened after you learned to open Hell’s Gate?” Oren chuckled. “Good name.”
Marc could not help but grin. “Thanks.”
While telling about the remainder of his day, the aroma of baking bread grew ever stronger. After the meal, Oren retired for the night and Valeria shared her adventure. Halfway through it, she yawned, stretched out and rested her head in his lap. Stroking her silken tresses through his fingers, Marc heard little more of her tale for within a minute she had fallen asleep.
— o O o —
Eager to see Hell’s Gate, Valeria woke Oren and Marc up at dawn and hurried them down the path to the Forbidden Vale. Marc found it amusing that his master needed little encouragement. On the way, Oren had him teach Valeria to read Traces. She was most adept. By the time they reached Wiccan creek, her skill was equal to his. He asked the wizard why that was so.
“Men and women usually differ in their magical strengths. The gentler of the two,” Oren said, gesturing toward Valeria, “are often blessed with a greater ability in some magical areas—visions, reading Traces and sensing other’s thoughts and emotions. Men tend to be stronger in the physical aspects—moving things, Floating, the Spark and the Blade. The remaining abilities do not seem to favor either gender.” Oren pointed his staff over the creek. “Show us how well you have mastered Floating. Carry us to the other side.”
Marc’s gut tightened. “I’m not ready. I can barely Float me, but to do you or Val—”
Valeria took his hand and squeezed it. “You can do it. Send me first for I am lighter than Master Oren.”
Looking toward his master, Marc saw an encouraging nod. “Go easy. Concentrate.”
Taking a deep breath, Marc cleared his thoughts and faced Valeria. “Hold still.” He surrounded her with his magic and, with great care, slowly crafted a bubble. The quality of it surprised him. Never had he made one about himself that good. As she rose into the air, she remained calm and relaxed. Her trust bolstered his confidence. Slowly pushing her across the water, he gently lowered her to the earth and released the bubble.
“Very smooth,” she said, clapping. Her smile warmed his heart. “Now the Master.”
With a short bow in his direction, Oren folded his arms across his chest and stood ready. In moments Marc had him airborne and, shortly thereafter, deposited next to Valeria. For the third time he created a bubble, this time about himself. It lacked the quality of his first two but proved adequate enough. As he landed next to the others, Oren clapped.
“Well done. As you see, creating your own bubble is the most difficult.”
Marc was about to discuss that oddity when Valeria took his hand and pulled him westward. “On to the flame.”
Laughing, he let her lead the way. When they reached the Devil’s Breath it was quiet; no vapors rose from its stones. Once they were safely positioned over fifty paces upwind, Marc first demonstrated how the unlit vapors screamed as they left the earth.
“It is very loud,” Valeria shouted over the noise.
“Quite,” Oren agreed.
—You may have the honor of Sparking it, Master,— Marc said.
A surge of delight came from the old man. —Thank you.—
Oren began an incantation, then caught himself, causing Marc and Valeria to laugh. Marc felt the pulse of magic fly from his master toward the source of the vapors. Immediately, it seemed as if the entire sky was alight in a blinding flash. At the same instant a great clap of thunder hammered painfully against his ears. All three of them ducked and put their hands to the sides of their heads, but by then the worst of it had passed. The great flame stood tall and strong, long tendrils of fire spiraling through its length.
Marc observed the others. Valeria fought her fear, but enjoyed the experience just the same. Oren, on the other hand, laughed like a boy, his face aglow from more than just the fire; wonder graced his master’s countenance. Oren gave him a quick embrace.
—This is fabulous, Marc. For all my life I have seen such a fire in my dreams, but until now I did not know what it was. Thank you so much.—
As his master turned back toward the flame, Marc grasped what had just happened. His discovery of Hell’s Gate had been foreseen long before his birth or even that of his grandfather. That fact overwhelmed him. He had experienced several visions of his own, but until now never truly recognized them for the awesome miracle they were—gifts from God. Only He knew the future and could pass that knowledge on in the form of visions. Marc wondered again why he was one so privileged.
After he extinguished the flame, they made their way to the tree. There Valeria quickly learned to read other’s thoughts and emotions. While glad for her, he also found himself slightly envious that her abilities in these areas exceeded his own.
The remainder of the day was spent teaching Valeria to Float—or trying to. Although she continued to give it her best effort, she was unable to create the magic that made the bubble. Hours had passed when Valeria sat on the ground and hung her head in frustration.
“Oh, it cannot be done.”
Marc regretted his earlier jealousy toward her. He had to help somehow. Kneeling beside her, he looked up at Oren. “Do you know how I can help her?”
“Yes. The answer can be found if you think like a wizard. Consider it a lesson.”
Marc thought hard. How could he tell her in a way that he had not already tried? Words were so inadequate when it came to describing the way magic worked. He learned to make his own bubbles by copying Oren, but she already tried that and could not sense the magic. If she could only experience it like he did. He chuckled. Of course, the answer was obvious.
He rose. “Stand.” When she was before him, he gazed deeply into her eyes and merged their spirits. While so joined, he demonstrated how he created the proper magic, allowing her to know it as intimately he did. Once she was able to duplicate it without his help, he separated from her. “Try it.”
Slowly and unsteadily, Valeria created a crude bubble about herself and Floated up several feet. She began to clap which upset part of the bubble, toppling her onto the ground. “Ow.” She inspected the skinned palms of her hands then smiled at him despite the pain he knew she felt.
He pointed at his bru
ised knee. “I did that a few times, too. That was good.”
She held him tightly, trembling with excitement. “Thanks.”
“I wish I had thought of that sooner.”
Oren smiled warmly at them. “Well done, Valeria.”
She let go of him and gave the wizard a little bow. “Thank you, Master.”
“Practice it often. Your progress will be slower than Marc’s, but you will improve. Do not worry about the spark or the Blade. Save those for another day.” The master retrieved his staff and faced Marc. “Do not return until she can do so unassisted by way of the caves.” Oren turned and left.
Valeria took a deep breath and let it out, squaring her shoulders. “It seems I have been challenged. Do you think I will learn it well enough to do as the master has ordered?”
He kissed her on the tip of her nose. “That depends if you clap any more.”
“Ha!” A playful gleam flashed in her eyes. “I’ll learn it so well that you will be the one clapping.”
Marc put his hands on her hips and pulled her close. “Brave talk from a lowly apprentice. You should be cautious of angering the mighty wizard who teaches you.”
“But I know how to calm the wizard’s temper.” She kissed him passionately for a moment.
“Indeed you do.” He gazed into her eyes and felt his knees weaken. “You command a great and mysterious magic—” Marc quickly Floated up beyond her reach. “—but only if I am near. Cast your spell on me now, witch.”
Looking up, she smiled mischievously. “I shall before this day is over.”
Chapter 22
It was a warm, sunny morning and Marc tended the garden along with Valeria and Gildas. He had just finished tying up the last row of berry vines when the master led him and Valeria to the woods outside the compound.
“I am pleased with the progress you both have made. In the two weeks since learning to Float, you have come close to mastering that necessary skill. Today you will learn another, equally important, form of magic: illusion. Tell me, have either of you seen a dragon?”
Haunted Tree (The Magus Family Chronicles Book 1) Page 24