The Young Magician tlt-1

by Michael Foster

  Samuel was astounded and felt terribly embarrassed at the trouble he had caused.

  ‘You should go and find the Grand Master now,’ Tulan told him. ‘He said that you woke late last night and grumbled about something and then started swearing at them. That was when they finally knew you were going to recover.’

  Samuel laughed. ‘Where is he?’

  ‘I don’t know-probably in his chambers. I usually try not to spend too much time in the school, or in Cintar, as a matter of fact-too many people, too many fools. I’ve a few things to attend to and I’ll come and see you again, but then I must leave quickly.’ As he stood, Tulan offered his hand once again and Samuel took it and shook it sincerely.

  ‘Until then,’ Samuel said and Tulan nodded and headed out the door.

  Samuel made his way across the grounds, trying to be as discrete as possible. He felt surprisingly spry, given how serious his situation had been, which he guessed could be attributed to all the powerful healing spells they had covered him with. A few young apprentices saw him and waved and called out, ‘Samuel!’ He hurried past them and knocked on the door of the Grand Master’s residence.

  ‘Come in,’ a gravelly voice called out, followed by a hacking cough.

  Samuel pushed the door in and stepped into the modest quarters. Grand Master Anthem was sitting on a soft leather seat, dressed in a fine cloak with green, embroidered hems. He was halfway through a thick sandwich and had crumbs in his wispy beard.

  ‘Ah, Samuel!’ he said. His voice was thin and nasally, as if he had a blocked nose. He put down his sandwich and motioned for Samuel to sit opposite him on a short stool. ‘I was hoping to see you sometime today. I trust you are well?’

  ‘Yes, Grand Master,’ Samuel replied. He felt as guilty as could be under the gaze of the old man. He swallowed his pride and went on. ‘I’m terribly sorry for all the trouble I’ve been.’

  Anthem dismissed the statement with a wave of his aged, bony hand. ‘No trouble, at all, Samuel. We all make mistakes. I hope now you realise why the teachers tell you the things they do. It is not just so they can hear the sound of their own voices. They have learnt from hundreds of years of combined experience and know what is best.’ Samuel nodded humbly. ‘I must, however, warn you to be extremely careful in the future. This is your second chance used. You may not live to get a third. You were as close to death as I’ve seen anybody get and still return-perhaps further. I would have sworn that at times your heart had just given up beating, but you pulled through in the end. You can thank your two friends, the Erics, for that. They were in here with us almost all of the first night when things looked most dire. Those two lads are quite talented and dedicated to you. In the end, we had to virtually drag them off to their beds before they got themselves in the same trouble as you. You can count yourself very lucky. So what have you got to say for yourself?’

  Samuel thought to himself a few moments. He wasn’t sure where to start. ‘Do you know about the time something similar happened at the Burning Oak?’ Samuel asked.

  ‘Of course,’ Anthem responded plainly.

  ‘Before that night, I was playing with magic. I didn’t know what I was doing, but somehow I had managed to conjure up a little magic just by copying what I saw the Masters doing. I had successfully summoned some mage-lights on occasion, but this one time, I tried a little too hard and I…I summoned something else.’

  Anthem raised an eyebrow and leaned forward with interest. ‘Oh?’

  ‘It was some kind of spirit, all white and ghostly. When it first appeared, it seemed a little confused and it took some time to look around. Then it disappeared into the town. There was nothing I could do.’

  ‘Ah, Samuel,’ Anthem said, looking gravely concerned. ‘Somehow, it seems you managed to summon something from another realm. This is no small feat and, unfortunately, a very dangerous one, for there are terrible things, indeed, that linger beyond the ether. Some of them, once summoned, can be very difficult to return. You are a talented lad, indeed, for there are only a handful of magicians that can accomplish such a feat and yet somehow you managed without any training whatsoever. You have some special gift, indeed, many special gifts.’ Anthem looked to the window, where the sun could be seen shining brightly outside. ‘These are strange days, indeed…and I know not what to think of them.’

  ‘I wanted to tell you, because last night-or the night before, I don’t know-I had a strange dream. I was dreaming, but it was not a dream, if you can understand. There were things all around me, just like the spirit I had summoned, and they were all reaching for me. Then, there was this one enormous thing that…’

  Anthem interrupted him abruptly with a quickly raised hand. ‘Don’t speak of such things, Samuel. It is done and over. I fear that on this occasion, the extent of your exhaustion was so great that it is indeed possible that, for a short time, your very soul was caught beyond the ether-or in some other nether-realm that we do not know.’

  ‘So what should I do, Grand Master?’ Samuel pleaded. ‘How can I stop it from happening again? I don’t want those things to get me.’

  ‘Calm now, Samuel. You have only to use your brain,’ and the old man tapped the side of his skull, ‘and you will be safe. What you must do is master yourself and you will have nothing to fear. Only spell when it is necessary and do not tire yourself-especially in the coming weeks while you are recovering. You have great ability, but you must know your own limits. You have the opportunity to become a great magician, Samuel, but you must be responsible. It is sometimes difficult to resist the temptation to use magic, for its touch can feel so beautiful and ever enticing.’ The old man glanced back towards his window and he seemed to be pondering something, for his very speech became softer, as if he was bearing the weight of the world himself. ‘Time is passing. These days I have much responsibility myself-much more than I care for. My life has passed so quickly, and I am getting too old to keep all my old responsibilities.’ Then he looked to Samuel again. ‘I have other matters to attend to, Samuel. Go now and take special care for the rest of the week. You seem fine, but I’m sure you will probably tire easily for a while. However, I will give you just one last piece of advice, Samuel: concentrate on your studies and your time will pass quickly and easily. If you go looking for trouble, my boy, you will surely find it. What could be simpler than that?’

  Samuel nodded in agreement and stood to leave. ‘There is just one other thing, Grand Master.’ The old looked man up from his toes, where his gaze had drifted. Samuel asked, ‘Do you know that I am an orphan?’

  ‘I do, Samuel. That, also, is something I was told when you first arrived.’

  ‘In my dreams I have learned of something important: something, rather someone, I have been hoping to discover for many years. It is a magician-a man of the Order. His name is Master Ash. He is the man I see standing in my doorway; he is the one who killed my family and taunts me every night. I didn’t realise it before, but now my dreams have made it clear.’

  ‘Samuel, are you certain? That is a serious statement to make. I hope you know what you are saying?’

  ‘I do. I can’t tell you exactly how I know for certain, but in my visions I saw him and I know it to be true. I know I’m not supposed to make any more trouble for you in the school, and this is probably the last thing you want to hear, but I just want to let you know, so you understand, that the next time I see Master Ash-I will kill him.’

  At that, Samuel strode out the door, leaving Grand Master Anthem rubbing slowly at the wispy white hairs that sprang from his withered old chin.

  The next week passed without event and Samuel saw no sign of the evasive Master Ash. However as Samuel entered the Adept dormitory, having finished his early training and towelling the sweat from himself, he found there was a buzz of activity going on. Everyone was gathered around the tables, talking excitedly. He was feeling entirely better and, much to his relief, it seemed the embarrassing events leading up to his collapse were seldom mentioned.
>
  ‘What’s happening?’ he asked of Martin.

  ‘The Grand Master has gone. He’s been removed from his place as principal,’ the chubby fellow replied.

  Samuel’s eyes widened. ‘Removed? Why?’

  ‘A ruling by the Magicians’ Council, so I’ve heard.’

  Samuel hurried to find Eric Pot, who was talking with Lan Farlen.

  ‘Eric, do you know what’s going on?’ Samuel said, interrupting his friend.

  ‘It seems that Grand Master Anthem has been stripped of his office by the Magicians’ Council.’

  ‘Does anyone know why?’ Samuel asked.

  ‘Apparently, for some reason, the Council has grown unhappy with him.’

  ‘They can’t just remove him! Who did they put in his place?’

  ‘Master Dividian will take over until they decide whom to appoint to the position.’

  ‘What does the Grand Master think about that?’ Samuel asked.

  ‘I don’t know. He stormed from the Council chambers and has not been seen since.’

  ‘That’s incredible!’ Samuel exclaimed.

  ‘And there’s more,’ Eric continued. ‘People are talking about a war with the north.’

  ‘A war?’ Samuel said with disbelief. ‘With whom?’

  ‘It could only be with Garteny. That’s the only place left the Empire hasn’t conquered.’

  ‘It’s Lord Jarrod,’ Goodfellow declared, somewhat angrily. It was strange to see the normally calm young man looking so furious. ‘He’s been against the Grand Master all along, and now it seems he’s finally gotten his way.’

  ‘What can we do about it?’ Samuel asked.

  ‘I don’t know,’ Goodfellow responded. ‘There will be a meeting tonight. I guess we should wait and see what is really happening before we jump to any conclusions.’

  They continued talking and gossip-mongering, but no one could offer any more substantial information than that. They found that classes had been cancelled for the day, and, when evening arrived, every student and Master in the school gathered expectantly in the Great Hall, packed shoulder to shoulder to hear the news.

  Master Dividian was there, standing behind the ornate lectern and all the other teachers of the school were seated in the front-most seats. The hall was echoing with all the excited and worried chatter from young and old alike.

  ‘Quieten down, quieten down,’ Dividian urged gruffly, and slowly the hubbub calmed. ‘You may have heard that Grand Master Anthem has left the School of Magic and, yes, it is indeed true.’ At that, a great deal of chattering sprang up again and it took a certain amount of effort and shouting for Dividian to quieten everyone again. ‘After debating with the Magicians’ Council, he has decided to resign as principal.’ Great cries came up but Dividian continued on, raising his voice to be heard above the ruckus. ‘Classes will resume tomorrow, as usual. We will wait for instructions from the Magicians’ Council instructions as to what to do next. Until then, life will go on as normal. If Grand Master Anthem does not agree to their demands and is not reinstated, a new principal will be chosen. That is all the information I have at this time.’

  At that, Dividian stepped away from the lectern and vanished out the small side door, while teacher and student alike began arguing about the consequences and what would happen. Samuel sat in silence, thinking, for he felt that there was much more going on here than had been revealed. He had not failed to notice that as Dividian had scurried away, the wily old man’s face had carried a thin and seldom-used smile.

  ‘So what do you think?’ Eric asked, throwing a pebble to bounce down from the grassy hilltop. Far below them, the great city lay sprawling within its walls, like a vast patchwork giant sleeping against the seashore.

  ‘They’re all mad,’ Samuel replied, sitting cross-legged on the grass and scribbling some notes. Further down the hill, a small group of apprentices could be seen dotting the fields, practising their lessons.

  ‘How can they just rid themselves of the Grand Master after all he’s done?’ Eric then asked, throwing another smooth stone.

  ‘Politics!’ Samuel spat out with disdain and looked up from his notes. The wind had a chilly bite and it caused the papers in his hand to flap about. For a moment, Samuel was tempted to warm himself with a spell or two. ‘And what’s all this talk of war? We haven’t heard anything about that except rumours.’

  Goodfellow shook his head. ‘It’s just a lie. Dividian wanted the Grand Master’s place and now he has it.’

  ‘I don’t think so,’ Eric noted. ‘Old Dividian is not as bad as he seems. Tensions with Garteny have been uneasy since the Imperial War ended. The Empire’s history of invading and swallowing up all its neighbouring nations has left the Gartens understandably nervous. People are saying that they have been building up their forces along the border. They could be readying to invade. They lost some of their lands in the last war and now maybe they think it’s time to take them back. The Empire would need to resist such an incursion or it could spell trouble and The Emperor wants magicians sent along to help with the effort. The Grand Master is a little biased on the subject, so I can see how his constant bickering with Lord Jarrod could be interpreted.’

  ‘Biased?’ Samuel asked. ‘What do you mean?’

  Goodfellow looked up with some surprise and adjusted his spectacles. ‘You mean you don’t know? The Grand Master is a Garten.’

  ‘Are you serious?’ Samuel asked in disbelief.

  ‘Of course he is,’ Eric called over. ‘That’s why there’s always been this contention over his position. Some people say he is still a Garten at heart, but he defected in the war and has never been back to Garteny since. All the Turians are obviously disgusted that a Garten has been running the School of Magic. If not for the fact that he is the most powerful magician in the Empire, I’m sure he never would have been granted the position to begin with. And apparently, he did the Emperor a great favour years ago that earned him his place in the Empire-but that seems to make little difference now.’

  ‘I heard he convinced the Emperor that he could do wonders with the School of Magic,’ Goodfellow revealed. ‘There were few magicians back then and most of them were too feeble to be of much use. His idea was to revitalise the school and begin finding and training students from a very young age. The Lions were each offered the position first, but none of them would take it so Grand Master Anthem was the only remaining choice.’

  ‘There’s something else suspicious that people have been talking about,’ Eric said. ‘It seems no one has seen the Lions since Anthem departed. It’s said they have been sent out to retrieve him, that the Emperor wants to be sure he never returns to Garteny…alive.’

  ‘I very much doubt it,’ Samuel said. ‘They are his closest friends. Why would they do such a thing?’

  ‘Because they’re patriots. They’re Turians and they support the Empire with all their hearts-not like us. We’re from all the tiny nations that the Empire has conquered at some point, so we don’t exactly have any innate love for it, but most of those born here in Turia would throw themselves from a cliff at the Emperor’s command. They’re just plain crazy.’

  ‘It just seems so strange,’ Samuel noted sourly.

  ‘Life’s like that, Samuel,’ Eric called with a smug grin. ‘Get used to it.’ He threw another small stone into the air and, this time, propelled it with a spell of Moving, so that it flew out towards the city with a resounding crack.

  ‘Whether it’s true or not, we’re still stuck with Dividian as principal,’ Goodfellow stated.

  Eric was just spelling another stone into flight, but Goodfellow negated it with a spell of his own, and the stone fell dead onto the grass. Eric made a look of great disappointment.

  ‘That could hit someone on the head, Eric,’ Goodfellow pointed out. Eric shrugged his shoulders and started gathering up another handful of small white stones from around his feet.

  ‘So what do we do?’ Samuel asked. ‘Do we keep going to class?
’

  ‘Of course!’ Eric replied, squatting as he picked from his choice of stones. ‘What else would we do?’

  ‘It just seems that if we keep going to class, then Jarrod and the Council will have won.’

  ‘I have to agree with Samuel,’ said Goodfellow. ‘Sending magicians to war seems incongruous in the face of everything we’ve been taught. I thought we were supposed to help people, not kill them.’

  ‘Supposedly,’ Samuel said. ‘But I guess our ideals and reality are two different things. This is the Empire and I suppose what the Emperor wishes happens.’

  ‘Well, let’s just go to class and see how things unfold,’ Eric suggested. ‘I don’t really see that we have any choice at the moment.’

  Samuel nodded. ‘You’re right-unless we leave the Order, but then where would we go? At least while we stay with the Order, we have a chance to set things right.’

  ‘And what about you, Samuel?’ Eric asked. ‘Are you still planning to kill Master Ash or have you come to your senses?’

  Samuel kept looking at the grass by his feet. ‘Of course I’ll kill him. What else would you suggest?’

  ‘You know we both believe you, Samuel,’ Goodfellow said, ‘but you have to remember that you shouldn’t pay so much heed to your dreams. You were feverish and delirious, remember?’

  ‘I realise that,’ Samuel responded darkly, ‘but I’m sure it was him. The more I think about it, the more convinced I am.’

  ‘Your family was killed a long time ago, Samuel, and, as you explained, it all happened very quickly. It’s a lot to risk on just a dream.’

  Samuel was quiet for a few moments, continuing to gaze at his feet. ‘There are times in your life when something happens-something so terrible-that, even if you see it for just an instant, it will be forever burned in your mind. Nothing you do can remove it, and you will relive it over and over again in terrible clarity, and each time, you feel sick to your stomach. I doubt that even by killing Ash I can take that terrible memory away-of my father being clubbed to death, my family being beaten and killed and my mother screaming at me to run while she was being stabbed to death. I can only hope that eventually these images will fade and I can sleep peacefully again. The one expectation I have in life is to avenge them by finding their murderers.’