The Wilder (The Trouble with Magic Book 1)

by Beach, B. J.

  Symon chuckled. “You would be a magician like no other if you could cast that particular spell on your own. It required hours of preparation and a considerable number of very skilled magicians to initiate it, and then great power and total concentration to hold it together. I’m not surprised that you remarked on that one. It’s probably one of the greatest multiple spells that has ever been cast.”

  The magician stood gazing into the fire, his hands folded under his chin as if recalling old memories, then slowly turned about and wandered into his kitchen. He emerged a short time later with a laden tray, which he placed carefully on a small table beside the hearth. Karryl was leaning back in his chair, his legs crossed at the ankles, idly flipping the thick pages of the book they had been discussing.

  As Symon began to pour cups of tea, Karryl tapped the book with his finger. “Did a magician write this?”

  The corners of Symon’s mouth twitched and he nodded. “Oh. Most definitely. Why do you ask?”

  “It’s just that when I was reading this part about the way different spells were used, and their effects, I could almost hear you talking.”

  The ensuing silence was almost palpable. Karryl lifted his head, his eyes wide, and saw the look of amusement on Symon’s face and the twinkle in his grey eyes. Grinning from ear to ear Karryl snapped the book shut, causing Symon to wince, and poked a finger at the leather cover. “You wrote it, didn’t you!”

  Symon made a little bow of acknowledgment, and managed to look a little embarrassed. “How very perceptive of you. Indeed I did, but very many years ago. I travelled a lot in those days and it took quite a long time to write. In fact, I thought it would never be finished. I didn’t noise it abroad over much, but nevertheless it seems to have acquired some status over the years. Now, surprisingly, it is required reading at many universities.”

  Karryl blew out his cheeks in wonderment and gave a little whistle, then frowned slightly as something occurred to him. “Why did you use the name ‘Portal’? If you’d used your own name you could have been rich and famous!”

  Symon gave him a mysterious little smile. “How do you know I’m not?” He paused while Karryl gave that little throw-away some thought. “Anyway, ‘Portal’ seemed most appropriate. After all, is not a portal the way in to something you wish to discover?”

  Karryl gave the little magician an admiring glance. “That’s clever. I don’t think I’d have worked that one out.” He gave a little gasp and jumped to his feet. “Talking about discoveries, I’ve just remembered something. Well, to be honest I’d just put it to the back of my mind, but now seems as good a time as any.”

  Dropping the book on his chair, he carefully pulled out the silver pendant from inside his tunic and lifted it over his head. Symon raised an eyebrow, and putting down the cup of tea he was holding, leaned forward for a closer look.

  Karryl held up the pendant between thumb and forefinger. “A messenger from the palace brought me this on my birthday. Her name was Detelia and she was very nice. She said it was very rare, and had certain magical properties that would be revealed at the time of greatest need. She seemed to think it was the right time for me to have it.”

  Slipping the heavy silver chain back over his head, Karryl let the pendant rest on the front of his tunic, and waited for Symon’s opinion. The little magician clasped his hands together and tucked them under his chin.

  First he took another long hard look at the pendant, then at Karryl, and then back at the pendant. “Did she tell you who it came from?”

  The blank look on the face of his apprentice gave him his answer. “No matter. You’ll find out eventually. I’m rather surprised that you’ve been given it so soon, considering the fact that you haven’t even taken your first tests yet. Well, I’m glad that you have it, but I suggest that you put it away safely for now, rather than wear it.

  “After you’ve taken your tests and hopefully passed, then I will explain its attributes more fully. It may seem a simple thing but there are certain factors to consider.” His eyes twinkled as he wagged a finger at Karryl. “Now, put it away, then perhaps we can try and find that book again.”

  Karryl frowned, and took a long look at the pendant. “I’d rather not. Begging your pardon, but Detelia must have had a reason for giving it me, wherever it came from. I think I was meant to be wearing it, so that’s what I’ll do.”

  Noting the determined glint in the eyes of his apprentice, Symon nodded. “Your decision entirely. Just bear in mind that, should you lose it, the consequences could be exceedingly dire.”

  Karryl sighed, and after a long wistful look at the pendant, stood up and wandered into his room. When he came back Symon was up on the stepladder again, peering at scrolls and small stacks of manuscripts wrapped in soft leather.

  As he reached for a scroll which had been pushed to the back of the shelf, he almost overbalanced as Karryl suddenly called up. “It’s not on that shelf ! I remember now. It’s a thin black book on the next shelf down. It’s wedged between two other big books and there’s no title on the cover or the spine!”

  Symon looked down and gave Karryl a slightly irritated look. Moving one step down the ladder, he slowly ran a finger along the row of books before stopping and easing out a slim dark-bound volume that was indeed, wedged tightly in between two much larger ones.

  Opening the slender book at the first page, he silently read a few words before carefully closing it and handing it down to Karryl. “At last! D’you know, I’d completely forgotten I had that. I don’t even remember where I got it from, or when.”

  Karryl took the book to his chair by the fire, and began to read aloud the words which had been copied by an obviously gifted scribe, possibly hundreds of years before Karryl was born. He continued to read as Symon sat down opposite him, and after a couple of pages, closed the book.”Is that what I was saying in my sleep?”

  Symon steepled his fingers, and looked across them from under his bushy eye-brows. “I’m almost certain it was. You seem to have mastered the accent too, but you’d have to ask Kimi. He’s a native Ingali and, being of royal blood, has learnt the ancient tongue.”

  Karryl leaned forward. “Something struck me as rather odd when Mordas introduced him.” He grinned. “Apart from the tattoos, that is. When she said his name I understood what it meant. It was as if I’d done an instant translation in my head. Isn’t that strange?”

  Symon nodded, still looking across his steepled fingers. “So what does it mean?”

  Karryl gave him a long look. “Companion of eagles.”

  Symon said nothing, simply sat staring into the fire while Karryl returned to the book containing the centuries old Ingalian saga. Symon observed him from the corner of his eye, noting he seemed to be reading the ancient language with little or no difficulty. “Have you heard the language spoken?”

  Karryl looked up, and placed the book across his knees. “Only when Kimi and Mordas were saying all those …” He stopped, his eyes widening. “How can I remember that? I was unconscious wasn’t I?”

  Symon nodded. “Indeed you were, but perhaps not so deeply as we first thought. I’m not familiar with the casting which Mordas and Kimi made over you. All I know is that it was intended to keep you stable and to stop you falling deeper than you already were. Perhaps you were close enough to the surface of your consciousness for the words they were saying to register, and so stir something in your memory.”

  His young apprentice got up from his chair, and walked over to the window. Pulling back the curtain, he stood for some time looking out at the steadily tumbling snow, before turning and sitting down on the window seat, an unusually grave expression on his face. He leaned forward, head bowed, his hands clasped between spread knees, his gaze fixed on a point just in front of his toes. He sat like that for quite a while before eventually lifting his head and looking along the room to where Symon sat puffing at his pipe and calmly watching him.

  Karryl’s voice was troubled. “Something is happening tha
t I don’t understand.” Seemingly satisfied to let him continue uninterrupted, Symon offered no response, but it was clear from the slight smile hovering at the corners of his mouth, that he was listening.

  Either unwilling or unable to meet Symon’s gaze, Karryl looked down at his toes again and began slowly wringing his hands. “I can remember things.”

  Symon decided a little prompt was in order. “What kind of things?”

  Karryl thought for a moment before giving Symon an anguished look. “Almost everything you’ve taught me for a start, and if I tried I could probably remember the rest of the stuff I thought I’d forgotten. Sometimes I even remember things I didn’t know I knew.” He gave a derisory snort. “Well, that sounded a bit daft, but …well…you know what I mean, don’t you?”

  Symon peered into the bowl of his pipe. “I think you’re worrying unnecessarily. Your improved mental faculties are no doubt the result of rather more intensive studying than you’re accustomed to. This is no bad thing, and in time may prove to be a blessing. However, if you’re feeling that it’s getting too much…”

  Karryl leaned back and rubbed his hands across his face. “Y’know, sometimes it really feels like that...a bit too much. One day I’m just a street-boy expecting nothing but what the day might bring, and then...well, you know...I get thrown headlong into a completely new way of life and everyone expects me to deal with it.”

  For a few moments nothing broke the ensuing silence. Eventually, Karryl looked up to see Symon gazing at nothing in particular, a troubled expression on his face.

  The boy jumped to his feet. “Oh! No, I didn’t mean…”

  Symon held up a steadying hand and waved him back into his seat. “Don’t get too anxious. What I was thinking was, this might be a good time to start concentrating more on your practical work. Although you appear to have mastered the spells of concealment and revealing, as well as a number of other simpler spells, there are to the best of my knowledge, quite a few lower grade spells you have not yet attempted.” He grinned wickedly. “If they do not prove entertaining, they will certainly bring you back to earth.”

  It was a moderately consoled, although rather subdued magician’s apprentice who sat down to supper later that evening, but his spirits gradually rose as Symon explained to him the spells he would be practicing. By the time supper was over, Karryl’s sides were aching from laughter as Symon regaled him with stories of incidents he had witnessed, in which novice spells had inexplicably and spectacularly come apart.

  CHAPTER THIRTYONE

  The following morning, with less than two weeks to go before the Winter Festival, magician and apprentice crunched their way through an ankle deep covering of pristine snow into the secluded glade near Symon’s hidden garden.

  Karryl grumbled. “Why do we have to do this outside? My hands will be so cold I won’t be able to do anything properly.”

  He blew hard on his fingers to emphasise his point, before thrusting them deep into the pockets of his coat.

  Simply clad in his usual woollen robe, Symon had made one concession to the weather and put on a sleeveless leather jerkin. He watched as Karryl stamped about in an effort to fend off the chill of the winter morning. “Would you please stand still?”

  The shivering boy gave him a long flat stare.”It’s the only way I can keep warm.”

  “Well, that just goes to show how little you really know. Now, if you can keep your body still for a few moments, I will teach you how to warm yourself. All it requires is a little concentration and a calm mind, and as this is your first attempt I will give you a little assistance.”

  Stepping over to his glum faced apprentice, Symon placed his small slender hand on the boy’s arm, and held it there for a few moments. Karryl’s eyes widened as he felt a gentle warmth begin to suffuse his chilled body.

  The pinched look slowly vanished from his face, and his petulant expression turned to one of incredulity. “How did you do that?”

  Symon raised an eyebrow and removed his hand. “That is what you are about to learn. The warmth you are now enjoying will hopefully last long enough for you to master at least the rudiments of the spell. When you have mastered it completely, you should have no difficulty in warming yourself out of a block of ice.” He chuckled at Karryl’s horrified expression. “Don’t worry. I won’t be asking you to do that.”

  Ignoring the somewhat dubious look he was given, Symon continued. “Now, would you please see in your mind anything that appeals to you that conveys warmth, and imagine it is down by your feet. Close your eyes if you think it will help, but concentrate solely on the heat source. When you have a firm fix on it, hold it in your mind and gradually move it upwards.”

  He watched his young apprentice for a minute or two. “It is a good idea to breathe at the same time.”

  Karryl’s breath exploded from his lungs in a white cloud. His face coloured, as he gave Symon a sheepish grin.

  Inclining his head, the magician folded his hands into the sleeves of his robe and gave a wry smile. “You’re not the first. No doubt I did the same thing myself when I was an apprentice. However, those days are deep in corners of my memory that I seldom visit. Now, if you are still comfortable, we will continue.”

  Karryl nodded. Deciding to close his eyes, he settled once more to concentrating on the imaginary glowing brazier at his feet. After a few minutes, a smile began to appear on Karryl’s face as he realised he was beginning to feel warmer, especially his feet and legs. Gradually, he mentally lifted the brazier higher. As the warmth spread to his chest he began to revel inwardly at his success, although he was now beginning to feel rather warmer than he would have liked.

  A sharp unrecognisable word from Symon made him snap open his eyes. With a startled yelp, he hurriedly jumped back as a small brazier filled with glowing hot coals crashed to the ground in front of him, emptying its contents with a steaming hiss onto the patch of stamped down snow. Open-mouthed, Karryl stared at the smoking steaming debris in front of him. With a grimace he looked across at Symon. His master’s expression was inscrutable. The two of them stood, not saying a word as the hot coals, rapidly losing their radiant glow, puddled through their surrounding bed of slush. With a final defiant hiss they settled into a patch of blackened grass and mud.

  Clasping his hands, Symon tapped his chin with his forefingers. “I think that was taking it a bit too far don’t you?”

  Lost for words, Karryl threw his hands up, his eyes silently begging for an explanation. Stepping through a stretch of deep, untouched snow to a place beneath a tall elm tree where the covering was thinner, Symon brushed off a fallen tree-trunk and sat down.

  He beckoned Karryl over to sit beside him.”I don’t recall giving you any instruction in Materialisation.”

  “Oh. Is that what it’s called? Well, whatever name it goes by, that wasn’t what I expected. Did you?”

  Symon shook his head, his gaze fixed on the darkened muddy patch a few feet away. “Do you think you could do it again?”

  Having now recovered from his initial shock, Karryl grinned. “I think I’ll save that one for emergencies.”

  Symon turned to him and frowned. “I’m glad you’re able to see the funny side of things, but we must get to the bottom of this. However, as Materialisation seems to be the order of the day…”

  He held his hands out in front of him, palms upward. The air around his hands shimmered in a soft, golden glow. With a quiet grunt of satisfaction, the magician handed Karryl a large mug filled with steaming hot vegetable broth. Ignoring his apprentice’s gasp of surprise, Symon produced another for himself, wrapping chilled fingers gratefully round the mug’s warmth. Sipping their welcome beverage, the two sat in contemplative silence.

  The purple tinted grey clouds of early morning had begun to drift away. Barely perceptible, the warmth of the winter sun prompted cushions of snow trapped in the trees to progress, one rhythmical drip at a time, to the ground below. After one particularly large and icy drop had hit hi
m squarely on the top of his head, Karryl gulped down the rest of his broth, pushed himself to his feet, and shuffled back through his own footprints to the place where the now cold brazier lay on its side in an uninviting pool of dirty water.

  Rubbing his hands together, he turned to Symon. “Do you want me to try it again? I’m beginning to feel a bit cold now.”

  Symon called from his seat on the log. “Perhaps you were too warm to begin with. Yes, please try again. A matching pair of braziers will always come in useful.”

  Karryl gave the magician a long look. It was difficult to tell if he was being serious, so closing his eyes he concentrated once more on the image of the glowing brazier. Feeling a warmth begin to spread over his feet, he mentally lifted the image as he had done previously. Once again a sharp word from Symon sent an almost identical brazier, filled with glowing coals, crashing down to join the first one in the puddle. Karryl stared at the pair of braziers in disbelief.

  Symon came to stand beside him. “Did you do that deliberately?”

  Karryl was having difficulty keeping a straight face, but judging by Symon’s expression, he didn’t think it would be a good idea to choose this moment to burst out laughing.

  Thrusting his chilled hands into his pockets he looked down at the rapidly dying coals. “I suppose I must have done, because I did exactly the same thing as I did the first time.”

  “Well, this is most unusual. It’s normally a very simple procedure, and one that can also be reversed to keep you cool in hot climates. Perhaps…”

  “I’ve just had an idea!” interrupted Karryl.

  Symon’s brow furrowed and he looked at him from under his eyebrows.”Do you think that’s wise? Thinking seems to be your downfall at the moment.”