by Beach, B. J.
Symon stopped abruptly. His eyes everywhere except in front, Karryl barged into the back of him.
Bracing himself to retain his balance, Symon scowled up into the startled face of his apprentice. “Mend it yourself. You learned the spell of repairing in your first year.”
Karryl stared over Symon’s shoulder, the colour draining from his face. Clutching his pack close to his chest he lurched forward, his mouth working soundlessly.
Symon grabbed the back of Karryl’s tunic and held on. “That’s the second time you’ve nearly knocked me over. Was my suggestion so preposterous?”
In a gesture of frustrated intent, Karryl yanked the fabric of his tunic out of Symon’s hand. “They’re here! I just saw one of them!”
Before Symon could stop him, Karryl had flung his pack to the ground and was dashing into the colourful tide of people which ebbed and flowed through the city’s narrow streets. Symon snatched up the discarded pack and hurried after. He caught up with his suddenly impetuous apprentice at the entrance of a long winding alley lined with brightly painted shop fronts, hung with billowing draperies and flapping bunting. Hands on his knees and panting for breath, Karryl stared, defeated, into the garish chaos. Encumbered by two packs and feeling the heat, Symon’s mood was beginning to sour.
He followed Karryl’s gaze. “So, would you care to explain what that was all about?”
Straightening up, Karryl pointed down the alley as passers-by jolted them on all sides. “I think he went down there. Gods! They can move fast!”
A high-pitched but calm voice spoke from behind the two magicians. “Think perhaps move faster than you.”
Their eyes wide with disbelief, Symon and Karryl spun round as one. Karryl lunged but Symon was faster. Grasping Karryl’s arm he held it tight. “Look...think.”
The soberly dressed Mirikani stood leaning on a slender, silver topped cane. A wide-brimmed black felt hat sat on deep auburn hair flowing in shining waves over his narrow shoulders. His head tilted to one side, he regarded Karryl from amber eyes. His whole mien exuded the wisdom of ages.
Swallowing hard, Karryl eased his arm out of Symon’s grip and managed to look sheepish. “I apologise. I er…I mean, we…”
The tiny man held up a hand. “Understood. A case of mistaken identity. Nevertheless, intrigued I am. Who think you see?”
The two magicians exchanged glances and Symon gave a little nod. Stepping into the narrow ribbon of shade afforded by the alley, Karryl leaned against the wall. Symon stood beside him. The Mirikani stood squarely in front of them both, his quizzical expression clearly showing he was waiting for an answer.
Karryl took a deep breath. “Do you know of Conjiber and Morchelas?”
The Mirikani studied Karryl for a long moment. “You have had dealings with them?”
Symon nodded. “You could say that.”
The Mirikani gestured down the alley with the tip of his cane. “You must tell me of this. Come.”
The little café he took them into was cool and quiet. The door closed softly behind them, the noise and bustle of the street fading to an almost inaudible hum. Thick square fringed cushions on the floor served as seats around low, circular dark-wood tables. The Mirikani selected a table away from the door. As they settled themselves, a tall Ingali in a spotless white robe approached. No-one spoke as a slender earthenware jug glistening with condensation was placed in front of them, along with three matching beakers, their insides shining with a deep yellow glaze. These were quickly followed by a large bowl of what looked to Karryl like stew, individual bowls of fluffy brown rice, and side bowls of various vegetables. The Ingali took up position nearby but out of earshot, in a shadowed corner. Lifting the jug, the Mirikani poured a small amount of clear liquid into each beaker.
Karryl frowned at Symon. “I thought you said we shouldn’t drink the water.”
The Mirikani lifted his beaker in a salute. “Very wise. Is why you have this.”
After taking a tentative sip, Karryl quickly realised that this definitely was not water. The colourless liquid was thinly syrupy and slightly sweet. Finding it quite pleasant and refreshing, he took a larger sip. It was then that the first one began to make itself felt. Placing his beaker on the table, he waggled his eyebrows as he grinned at Symon. The magician’s response was a slow, knowing smile.
The Mirikani looked at them both in turn. “Now refreshed, tell I, Bardilan, of Morchelas and Conjiber.”
* * *
By the time Bardilan had been told the full story, the jug and most of the bowls of food were empty. Hardly noticed by the three strangers, other customers had been and gone, and oil lamps had been lit in the café. Throughout, the Mirikani had said nothing, his expression inscrutable even through the most harrowing details. He now sat puffing on a long, thin-stemmed pipe of smoking leaf as he thoughtfully regarded the two magicians. The door of the café opened. Placing his pipe carefully on the table, Bardilan gave a brief nod and indicated the vacant cushion beside him. Symon and Karryl turned to see another Mirikani, clad entirely in deep cherry red, heading quickly towards their table. After giving the two magicians a brief but respectful bow, he sidled behind them and settled himself on the cushion beside Bardilan.
No introductions were made. The two Mirikanis immediately launched into rapid and animated conversation. Fascinated and intrigued, Karryl and Symon listened to the strangely sibilant and melodious language, markedly different to the harsh jabber of Conjiber and Morchelas. After a few minutes, Karryl began to feel surplus to requirements. Fidgeting with impatience, he glanced at Symon. The little magician sat cross-legged on his cushion, hands inside his sleeves, a gentle smile on his lips. Feeling threads of irritation coursing through his body, Karryl closed his eyes and initiated a calming spell.
The Mirikani conversation ceased abruptly. Karryl opened his eyes to see the two tiny men gazing intently at him.
Symon broke the looming silence. “In our country, your behaviour would be considered, to say the least, rude.” He fixed a flinty gaze on Bardilan. “Perhaps you would have the grace to afford us an explanation.”
The vestige of a smile twitched at the corners of Bardilan’s mouth. “Agree. Also, apologise for what you think rude. Should have excused first.”
Only slightly mollified, Symon eased his aching behind on the thick cushion. “I suspect you did not wish us to know what you were discussing, probably because it concerned the things we have told you.”
Bardilan inclined his head in acknowledgement. “We had certain doubts. Not now. Power of your companion very strong.” He gestured towards the other Mirikani. “Corlian tell what you need to know.”
Clasping his hands in front of his tiny flat stomach, the red-clad Mirikani’s black-irised gaze moved from Karryl to Symon and back again. Without any kind of preamble he began.
His voice was uncommonly deep for a Mirikani, with little trace of the accent which accompanied Bardilan’s speech. “You have done the Mirikani people a great service, although it may not have been your intention.”
The two magicians exchanged surprised glances.
Appearing not to notice, Corlian carried on. “Bardilan and I are, or rather were, in pursuit of Conjiber and Morchelas. We knew we were closing in. Unfortunately, they found you before we found either you or them, and the deed has been done. Had they been apprehended they would have been confined and returned to Mirikan for trial.”
Karryl’s eyebrows drew together in a deep frown. “You’re telling us you knew what they were going to do? How?”
Bardilan shook his head. “Not to tell. Is…secret.”
Corlian placed a hand on his companion’s black-sleeved forearm. “It is our deepest regret that we were unable to prevent what befell you and the villagers of Xatchiqlan.”
Before Karryl or Symon could reply, the two Mirikani had sprung to their feet.
Sliding his pipe into a pocket, Bardilan doffed his hat and bowed low.
Following suit, Corlian then t
ook something from his pocket and placed it on the table. “This is all we are able to tender by way of reward. As you are now returning to Albita, it may be some time before you find it of any value.”
All Symon had time to say was “Thank you”. The two magicians experienced some serious deja-vu as the two Mirikani vanished.
* * *
For the first time in over an hour, Karryl looked about him. He gave Symon’s elbow a nudge. “We’re the only ones here. I think it’s time we left too.”
Symon didn’t reply. He was examining the tiny object Corlian had placed on the table. Centreing it in the palm of his hand, he held it in front of Karryl’s face. “I don’t know yet whether there’s anything in it, but I can confidently state that this is the smallest casket I have ever seen.”
Reaching out, Karryl gingerly touched the tiny black and silver box. The tip of his forefinger covered almost three-quarters of its width. Withdrawing his hand he waited while Symon rummaged in his pack, eventually bringing out a small brown leather pouch. Slipping the tiny casket inside, he pulled the drawstring tight, and tucked the pouch inside his robe. “It should be quite safe there.” He looked up. “Yes, I agree. I think it’s time we left.”
Karryl stood up and looked down at the empty dishes. He made a moue. “I think we may have been lumbered with paying for all that.”
Symon chuckled as he struggled up off his cushion. “Don’t worry. Bardilan’s sleight of hand wasn’t quite fast enough to elude me. The Ingali was well paid.”
Slinging his pack onto his shoulder, he watched as Karryl tied a knot in his broken strap. ‘Don’t you think you ought to take a minute to mend that properly?”
Karryl shrugged, sighed, placed his pack on the table and untied the knot. Holding a broken end in each hand, he slowly brought them together. The air above the table shimmered briefly as the chewed leather uncurled, straightened out and slowly melded. With a soft ‘puh’ the job was done. Symon smiled and nodded, but Karryl’s efforts did not meet with everyone’s approval. As he lifted his pack to examine the results, the Ingali proprietor dashed across to their table, kicking cushions aside in his haste.
His face thunderous, he flapped his hands at Karryl. “No! No magic! You leave now. Not come back. No magic!”
Pushing and prodding, the irate Ingali hustled the two magicians outside into the now dark alley, spat on the ground at their feet, and slammed the door. To Karryl’s amazement, Symon burst out laughing.
Karryl couldn’t see anything funny. “I don’t see what’s to laugh at.”
Recovering his composure, Symon grinned up into the frowning face of his apprentice. “For the first time in my life I have been thrown out of an eating house.” He gave another little chuckle. “I shall record the incident as soon as we are back in Vellethen.”
Looking about him, Symon moved to stand close to Karryl. “Now, in a more serious vein. It’s autumn in Albita. How do you feel about some long distance translocation? I’m beginning to feel quite homesick.”
Karryl grinned. “Sounds good to me, as long as we don’t end up in a river or on top of a freezing mountain.”
Symon wagged a finger as he grasped Karryl’s arm with his other hand. “Trust me. I’m a magician.”
Stopping to rest at night and recoup his powers, Symon was as good as his word. In four days they had traversed three continents, paying their way by performing spells of healing, repairing or just pure entertainment.
Throughout the course of their travels, Karryl had amassed an impressive collection of unusual spells and quirky cantrips, most of which were harmless and in some cases either very amusing or extremely helpful. After the young magician had given a few demonstrations, even Symon had to admit that the time spent gathering them hadn’t been completely wasted. In the middle of a glowing autumn following a long hot summer, they returned to Symon’s tower, laden with enough information and artefacts to keep them both occupied, and Karryl studying for years.
* * *
At his twenty-first birthday party, a few weeks before the winter festival, Karryl and Aenys announced their engagement, which really came as no surprise to anyone. Once the round of parties and seasonal merriment was over, Karryl settled to his studies. His final exams were now only months away.
It therefore came as something of a body blow, when Symon returned from the garden with a trugful of fresh vegetables late one Spring afternoon, and announced they would be moving out of the tower. Since the momentous discovery that he was destined to be the long awaited Mage-Prime spoken of in legend, Karryl’s workload had increased tremendously, leaving him with little time for recreation. Instead of accompanying Symon to the peaceful sanctuary of the garden, he had stayed behind in the tower to study.
Resting his chin on one hand, he stared for a long moment at Symon who had seated himself at the table across from him. “Is it really necessary? It’ll be a bit of a wrench for you, won’t it?”
Symon looked around as if appraising his surroundings. “Oh. I don’t know. We’ve already spent quite a time away from here, and I don’t think it will make a lot of difference to me. It’s you I’m more concerned about.”
Karryl’s eyebrows lifted in surprise.”Don’t be concerned about me. I can work anywhere, although I must admit I do like it here. Anyway, you haven’t answered my question.”
“What question was that?”
Karryl rolled up the scroll from which he’d been working, closed his notebook and carefully placed his quill alongside it. Arms on the table, he leaned forward, locking eyes with Symon. “Is it really necessary?”
Symon grimaced, and sat quietly for a moment or two with his eyes narrowed as if finding the question difficult. “If you’re asking me if it’s just a whim, then the answer is no. We both need more space to work and study, more time to perfect techniques. This tower, fond of it as I am, has outlived its usefulness. We’ve been allocated rooms and workshops within the palace.”
Karryl leaned back in his chair and grinned. “The palace! You mean, permanently?”
Symon rolled his eyes. “Of course permanently! That’s what ‘moving’ means. So, next week we must start sorting things out and packing. Nothing must be left behind. I get the distinct feeling we are beginning a new chapter in our lives.”
Little did Karryl know how prophetic Symon’s words would prove to be...
- - -
And now
Both the author B. J. Beach and Ex-L-Ence Publishing hope that you have enjoyed reading this eBook. Please tell your friends, write a review on Amazon or mention it on your favourite social networking sites.
MAGE PRIME
Karryl’s face was thunderous. “Killers, yes. Natural born? No. Nothing could be further from the truth. When you and your men have had time to recover and made your reports, come to our apartments and I’ll show you what little information we have on these vile creatures.”
They stood a while in silent communion, gazing with revulsion at the aberrant and lifeless forms. An acidic greenish-yellow blood oozed from the diabolically hideous heads, and down the shafts of the weapons on which they were impaled. Severely shaken, but otherwise none the worse for their terrifying encounter, the two remaining soldiers hauled themselves to their feet and came to stand beside their sergeant.
Trying desperately to avoid looking at the loathsome corpses, one of the men gestured in their general direction. “Shall we get these cleared away, Sarge?”
* * *
Following on from his adventures in 'The Wilder' it is now certain that Karryl is the ‘Mage-Prime’, but so what - as his powers grow, so too do the problems that he faces, and even with the intervention of higher beings, will he be ready in time?
Karryl, has quite a lot keeping him busy. Still learning how to control and master magic. Having to fight grelfons, monsters that haven't been seen in a thousand years, and dealing with a mysterious sickness that affects only children. Last but not least, the knowledge that someone he used to know i
s being trained in evil magic, with the purpose of destroying him and everything that he loves. Time seems to be running out for the Mage Prime.
* * *
Volume 2 of The Trouble With Magic - ‘Mage Prime’ is available from your local Amazon website. For a full list of Amazon websites and details of ‘Mage Prime’, see: www.qtvh.com/yourls/mage
* * *
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