Despite his exhaustion, Samuel was excited by what he had learned that day. After he had changed and eaten, he left the groans and moaning of the bunkhouse and hurried through the frosty, night air, his breath forming clouds. He came to his teacher’s door and rapped on it with his knuckles.
‘Enter,’ came a voice from within and so Samuel turned the handle and quickly entered the warmth of the room.
Master Glim had his feet up on his table and was reading from some notes. His spectacles were hanging idly on the tip of his nose, threatening to teeter off the end. Samuel was surprised, for he had never seen his teacher wearing them before.
‘Ah, Samuel,’ he said, dropping his feet to the floor and setting down his notes. ‘I should have known it was you.’
‘Master Glim,’ Samuel returned in greeting and rubbed his hands together for warmth.
‘Is it that cold out tonight?’ Master Glim asked. ‘I’m glad then that I have much to prepare in here.’ He seemed to suddenly realise that Samuel was staring at him and his hand moved to his face. ‘Oh, my spectacles? I sometimes need them when I am tired. I seem to need them more often these days. It’s one of the unfortunate facets of life that not even magic has been able to resolve.’
‘They make you look very distinguished,’ Samuel assured him.
Master Glim laughed. ‘I’m sure they do.’ He removed them and set them down beside his notes. ‘Sit down. What can I do for you?’
Samuel sat opposite his teacher. ‘I wanted to ask you more about the stances you taught us today.’
‘I assumed as much. When will you ever rest, Samuel? Your mind seems ever at work. I suppose I should be grateful to have such an eager student. In the upcoming months we shall examine each stance individually and discuss the details and uses of each variation.’
‘These new stances don’t seem as powerful as the summoning stances we have already learned? Is that correct or am I just imagining things?’ Samuel asked.
‘You are correct. The basic summoning stances are as perfect as our bodies will allow. They result in the greatest harnessing of power as they most closely follow the natural flows around us. The variations are less powerful, magically speaking, but allow us to direct our power better for different spells. If I wanted to search a mountain for ore, I certainly would not use the Ploughman’s Stance, for the Two Moons Stance is far more efficient at such divination. Energy must be applied correctly and in the appropriate circumstance to be of any use. The summoning stances are fundamental for summoning magic, but to cast a spell you should decide which focussing stance is the best choice. ’
Samuel nodded in understanding.
‘Remember, Samuel, that shapes hold power by the very fact of their existence. Energy fills the ether. Variations in the concentration of energy form the weaves. The movement and interweaving of the weaves create the flows. Meshing of the flows forms matter. All these things together-one yet many-form the pattern that is existence.’
‘And the stances help us draw from the ether?’
Master Glim nodded. ‘That’s correct. Our mere existence-the presence of our bones and muscles, the swirls in our brains, even the blood in our veins-allows us to collect energy, ethereal energy, via resonance and store it in our ethereal selves-the portion of ourselves that exists only in ethereal terms. It cannot be seen or felt, but it exists. It is our aura, which surrounds and enfolds our physical bodies.’
‘Is that then what we truly are?’ Samuel asked.
‘Yes and no,’ Master Glim replied. Then he raised one eyebrow and looked up at the ceiling. ‘There should be a word that means both yes and no. I think Master Sanctus tackled that one a few years ago. There’s a buzzing noise that he makes when he’s too confused to say either. Sorry, where was I?’
‘Yes and no,’ Samuel prompted.
‘Ah,’ Master Glim said, regaining his train of thought. He seemed tired and confused tonight. He was still a young and fit man compared to most Masters. Tonight, though, he did seem much older. ‘Yes and no. Does our body exist as an instrument of our spirit, or does our body create our spirit for some purpose of its own? Who can say? When we die, our body disintegrates, but what happens to the energy within us? Is it a soul or just a symptom? Does it fade and become nothing or does it change and become something else? None of us can say. These are questions for the priests and philosophers. I think if we were to try to answer all these questions, we would not have the time to enjoy our lives. In the end, each of us will inevitably discover the answer, but until then we can only whistle into the wind.’
Samuel nodded slowly. These were things he had never considered. He could see the flows. He could see the energy around people and the spells they created. Was this what he could do: see people’s souls? He looked at Master Glim, who was looking back at him thoughtfully. Focussing his sight, Samuel could see that a myriad of tiny stars now moved around the man, performing an endless, twirling, graceful dance. They were tranquil now, ever following each other in constant flow. There was never a first point or a last. Every bright spot seemed to follow and be followed. If Master Glim were to summon his strength, Samuel knew that the points would grow in number and join to form strings. Energy would burst from the ether and manifest in our realm as pure magic. Or perhaps the magic was always there, but even his sight was too poor to see it. At present, perhaps only the brightest sparks of power were visible, like glistening dew on a spider’s web and if one were to look closer, the web itself could also be seen.
‘Then why are some stances stronger when stationary and others require movements, such as Willow Step?’ Samuel asked, shaking the previous line of thought from his mind for the time being. It was all too difficult for him to fully comprehend.
‘Think, Samuel. To gather power into yourself, match the flows. Use Prophet Stance or Harmony Stance or any of the holding stances, for these are the strongest and let you match the flows. To further excite this energy, break from one flow and change to another. This is why most stances follow circles and curves. This best allows you to release what you have stored, like striking a flint upon stone. But this is all basic! Master Sanctus should have gone over it all long ago. Perhaps I will quickly review such fundamentals tomorrow.’
‘That would be good,’ Samuel said. ‘I think it’s good not only to know how to do something, but why it is so and how it works. Then we can form some new ideas for ourselves.’
‘Very good, Samuel,’ Master Glim said. ‘I hope I have answered your questions for now. Come again some time. I shall see you tomorrow afternoon after your lesson with Master Celios.’
Samuel sighed. Master Celios was stern and short-tempered, only teaching when another Master was unavailable. Samuel hoped the man had more patience now they were all a little older and higher in standing. As the young magician left the room, Master Glim placed his glasses back onto the tip of his nose and returned to his notes, turning over the yellowed pages in his hands.
‘Good afternoon, students,’ Master Celios’ voice echoed across the cold, cavernous hall. ‘I am glad to see that so many former apprentices here have finally graduated to Adept. I hope you continue to do as well in the future.’ Samuel and Eric Pot looked at each other hesitantly. Not a whisper was permitted during Master Celios’ lectures and the man’s ramblings were most often pointless, convoluted and overly long. ‘Speaking of the future, Master Glim has asked that I explain the most intriguing facet of magic, in my opinion, known as divination. Divination, or divining, is the ability to know something or detect something through the use of magic. You can detect the weather, locations of people or things, or perhaps even detect whether or not people are paying attention, Mr Shewlun.’
At the last statement, Flynn sat bolt upright. He had been nodding off already and Master Celios would not tolerate such a thing. He also had an uncanny ability to remember everyone’s names. No one knew how he did it, but after just one mention, you were damned to be known by him forever.
Master Cel
ios continued: ‘A magician who can perceive something of the future is called a seer, and they can often divine the future long before it actually happens. Some of you may even have the ability to do this, but it is not a skill that we make a habit of developing, so it remains dormant in most of us. Some may have a hint of the gift, seeing current, future or past events in their dreams, but all recollection of such is lost with the coming of morning.
‘You may have heard that I am considered the most capable seer in the modern world and, as far as I know, I am. I foretold the Great Rat Infestation of Glentody, the Battle of Raven Fields and many other things.’ He was obviously very proud of himself. ‘Before we begin learning the theory, however, I would like to make a demonstration.’ He held out a palm and closed his eyes, appearing deep in thought and Eric gave Samuel a look of amusement. ‘I am quite sensitive to detecting other seers, so I shall see if we have any talent here today,’ Celios announced.
He stepped nearer to the students, keeping his eyes shut and holding one palm out towards them. ‘Yes, yes. I can feel something over here. The pattern is definitely aligned to a potential seer or two.’
Eric guffawed and poked Samuel in the ribs, for Master Celios was making a grand fool of himself, almost tripping himself up on his robe hems as he strode back and forth, holding his palm out towards everyone. Samuel could not help but snigger in return and when he looked up, Master Celios was glaring down upon him with a very unamused expression.
‘I’m sure you would like to be gifted as a seer, young Samuel,’ Celios called out irritably, ‘but you’re not! Young Master Pot here is brimming with far more talent than you.’ Samuel could not help but laugh again as he looked at Master Celios’ puffed and reddened cheeks. ‘Why the nerve!’ Celios roared out. ‘Come with me!’
Master Celios bent over and snatched up Samuel by the earlobe, as his mother had been fond of doing long ago, and dragged him out of his seat and into the aisle.
‘Ow! Ow!’ Samuel complained with his eyes squeezed closed in pain. When he thought his ear was about to be torn clear off, it was suddenly released, and he began rubbing his ear furiously to get the life back into it.
‘Young Master Samuel,’ Celios called out, now bearing a smug grin. The other Adept looked greatly amused at Samuel’s plight. Eric had both hands over his mouth to hold his laughter and Goodfellow bore an amused grin. ‘You are obviously so sure of yourself that you don’t mind disrupting my class. Why don’t we all see what kind of ability you really have?’ Samuel tried to object, but Celios would have none of it. ‘I shall act as an intermediate,’ Celios told him, ‘and you say the first thing that comes to your mind. No nonsense, mind you-and if you make any more fun of my class, I’ll have a switch taken to your buttocks faster than you can blink. Don’t think for a moment that you’re too old to learn some good manners!’
Samuel nodded, with no choice but to take part in Master Celios’ display.
Celios clasped his hands together into a matrix of power and began summoning his magic, and then Samuel saw the teacher’s spell take form. It swept out and enveloped him, cool against his skin.
‘Concentrate now,’ Celios instructed. ‘Close your eyes if you like.’ Samuel did. He hoped to get this over with and return to his seat as quickly as possible. ‘Now, speak. What do you see? What can you see through the clouds of time?’
Samuel opened his mouth and began to say the first thing that came to mind. It was strange because, with the aid of Master Celios’ spell, he thought he could see some images beginning to form in his mind. They were vague at first, but as he focused upon them, scenes began to appear in his mind’s eye-shapes and hues shifting against each other, slowly congealing into discernable forms.
‘I see Master Sanctus,’ Samuel began.
‘Good,’ Celios’ voice responded. ‘What is he doing?’
Samuel heard the faintest chuckle and decided to put a quick end to this embarrassment. He peeked one eye open and could see the whole class was full of mirthful grins. Gritting his teeth and closing his eyes once again, Samuel concentrated upon the ghostly images. ‘He is dancing with a beautiful girl-laughing and dancing and spinning in circles. Oh, wait. He’s dancing with many beautiful girls-all at once. Quite wildly, in fact. He seems to be having a grand old time.’ At that, Samuel heard a few sniggers come from the class. ‘That’s all,’ he finished irritably. ‘It’s gone,’ he finished and opened his eyes.
‘Well then, young Samuel,’ Celios said. ‘I’m looking forward to seeing merry Master Sanctus doing a jolly old jig, being the spry old soul he is.’ The students all roared with laughter again. ‘I don’t know what, if anything, came to your mind, but the first skill of divination is the separation of fact from fantasy. Now, back to your seat and, if possible, could you not disturb my class any further?’
Samuel returned to his seat, red-faced, and Eric Pot slapped him on the back with mirth.
‘Now, now, students,’ Celios called from the front of the hall and the hoots of laughter slowly subsided back into silence. ‘That’s enough amusement for one day. Now, we shall continue with some theory.’
As Master Celios began sorting through his pages, Samuel’s head began to swim around. He gripped onto the seat back in front of him and tried to steady himself, but the room seemed to be revolving and contorting all around him.
‘Samuel?’ Goodfellow whispered, but Samuel could not answer.
The Great Hall flashed from his view and was replaced by darkness. Samuel could feel his stomach rise up into his throat and the warm contents fill his mouth. He tried to raise his hands, but he found himself formless and weightless, now hanging in the sky over Cintar. He looked all around in his vision as black-winged shapes filled the air below and enormous sinister forms strode through the streets, pounding down the buildings and walls with enormous fists. Spells and missiles flew up from the smoking city as all around, a great battle was waged between man and-something else. Samuel’s attention was drawn by a sudden, soundless flash from the palace and, as he watched on, the High Tower cracked at the base and slowly toppled over onto the city, sending up immense plumes of dust and debris in all directions. Three figures loomed tall over the landscape, looking on with murderous indifference. They were ageless beings and their shadows began to stretch across the lands.
‘Samuel?’ Goodfellow asked again. ‘Are you all right?’
‘Oh,’ said Samuel, turning to his friend, quite startled. ‘Yes. Yes, I’m all right. I just felt giddy for a moment.’ Wisps of Master Celios’ spell still clung to his mind. That was the only explanation for what he had just experienced.
Goodfellow nodded. ‘That can happen. It should pass quickly.’
‘I hope so.’ He could still taste the bitter contents of his stomach in his mouth.
‘Samuel!’ Celios roared out. ‘If you cannot hold your tongue and pay attention I shall organise yet another demonstration for you before the principal!’
Samuel sat up straight and tried to pay attention as his uneasy stomach slowly settled and the rest of the afternoon passed ever so slowly before Master Celios’ stern gaze.
When the lecture was finished, the Adept all filed outside.
‘Are you feeling better?’ Goodfellow asked.
Samuel nodded back. ‘Yes, it’s passed. I wish Master Celios had warned me beforehand that divination could make you feel so bad.’
Eric Pot laughed. ‘I think that’s part of his punishment, Samuel.’
‘What do you think of it,’ Samuel asked his two friends. ‘Divination, I mean. If you can see it in your mind, do you think it will come true?’
Goodfellow smiled a little as he replied. ‘I really don’t think so, Samuel. As Master Celios explained, our heads are literally full of scenes and pictures. The real skill is in picking the truth from the fantasy.’
‘It’s just…’ Samuel began, ‘It’s just that it felt so real. It wasn’t like a memory or a dream. It was like I was actually there.’
‘So do you think Master Sanctus will really manage to dance with all those beautiful girls, Samuel?’ Eric asked with a great grin. ‘I didn’t think he had it in him.’
Samuel shook his head. ‘I don’t know,’ he said distantly, for he was in deep thought and had hardly heard what Eric had said. He was not at all concerned with the vision of old Master Sanctus, for his mind was on the other scene he had witnessed-the dark things over the city, the hulking forms in the streets; they filled him with dread.
‘Come on. I’m starving,’ Eric said, sniffing loudly to detect any hint of roasting dinner on the air. ‘Let’s go find something to eat.’
They continued on, but Samuel felt something strange in the distance like some form of spell, over by the wall. He forgot his dark thoughts for a moment and peered over, but nothing seemed to be there.
‘What is it?’ Goodfellow asked, stopping beside him.
Samuel enhanced his sight and strained to see more clearly, peering up and down the length of the wall, but he could sense nothing. ‘It’s nothing,’ he replied and they began away again. Still, he could not help the feeling that someone had been there, wrapped in spells and hiding in the shadows, watching him. As if he didn’t have enough to worry about already.
It had been a hectic first month being one of the Adept and Samuel had been studying hard to try and come to terms with all the new lessons they were given. He barely had time to venture into the city, but what annoyed him most of all was that many of the older Adept already knew much more than he did, so he was determined to learn everything they knew as quickly as he possibly could.
Samuel and Goodfellow were rushing to class together, when they spied the weasel-faced, old Master Dividian approaching, talking with another taller magician. Samuel noticed immediately that this other man had an unusual aura around him. He could not say exactly why, but it just looked strange around the man. Samuel squinted in an effort to enhance his sight, but he could not reveal anything else that might explain such strangeness. As the pair of Masters passed by, Samuel gawked up at the man: a tall fellow with neat, black hair and a tiny moustache, with a touch of beard at the tip of his chin. His nose was slightly upturned and he held himself proudly, walking with an almost regal stride. His aura was strong and clean, as with most Masters, but there was something about it that was most definitely…unusual.
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