The Reign of Magic (Pentamura Book 1)

by Awert, Wolf

  Nill succeeded at calling forth a small dust storm that proved strong enough for beetles to play dead and mice to flee. All he had to do for this was to turn “plant light, earth heavy” around while keeping the air in motion. Nill did not know how difficult it was to make the air blow forth the now light earth, and nobody bothered to tell him. Simple Earth spells like throwing stones, on the other hand, he found little aptitude for. At the end of the day Nill saw only failure and weakness in himself and was appropriately foul-tempered.

  Brolok’s true mastery became clear in the Metal magic. Metal tasted bitter and smelled ashen. It was everywhere and easy to spot, but difficult to tame. Either its energy was in constant motion and had to be caught or it lay like a brick on the floor, unmoving. Nill’s body was always doing too little or too much. Brolok always had the right amount for it, while Tiriwi did absolutely nothing other than standing around looking surly.

  At the end of a long day of Metal magic they made their way back to the caves. Brolok had reveled in showing off his mastery. Tiriwi stormed off to her room.

  “You told us once that you came here to understand the mages, Tiriwi.” Brolok’s call followed Tiriwi swiftly and caught her just before her cave. “Did you change your mind? None of my business if you did. I’d just like to know why.” His voice gave no indication that he was really interested.

  Tiriwi turned around. “Why do you think I’ve changed my mind?”

  Brolok shrugged. “Don’t know. But if you want to understand the mages, you’ll have to do as they do and think as they think. Temporarily at least. If you don’t take what they give you, you can’t learn anything.”

  “But the things they do are wrong and bad. It goes against everything I believe in.” Tiriwi was not prepared to give a single inch.

  Brolok shrugged again and the corners of his mouth sank. “You might be right, and it’s wrong. I’m not responsible for anyone’s view of the world, or their beliefs. After all, I’m just a half-arcanist and a blacksmith. But I do know one thing: nobody’s ever learned anything by standing around looking grumpy. But as I said, it’s none of my business.”

  “Watching can constitute learning.” Tiriwi could be as stubborn as Nill.

  Brolok gave her a long look and ended the swelling silence with a single word. “Foolsilver!” He said it slowly, pronouncing every syllable separately. Then he left Tiriwi standing there and disappeared into his own cave.

  Nill looked over to where Brolok had vanished. After the unfriendly encounter with the nobles he had come to regard Tiriwi as the leader of their group, mostly because she was further along with magic than he and Brolok were, and also because she showed no signs of shrinking away from conflict with the mages. But now he was not so sure any more. Brolok was only a half-arcanist, true. He did not dream of ascending to a higher rank. He obeyed the nobles and had one goal: the forging of the best weapons and tools. Nothing more. Fame, honor, greatness – these were unimportant to him unless they concerned blacksmithing. And now this? He had spoken so confidently and strongly! Everything seemed simple for Brolok. Nill’s gaze lingered on the black hole he had disappeared through for a long time until he saw nothing at all, lost in his own thoughts.

  After a night of restless sleep and disturbing dreams they came together for their first lesson in Water magic. Brolok was unusually quiet, leaving the others to lead the way. They had to leave Ringwall for their practice and now stood by a small lake with swampy banks. Glowing insects zoomed through the air and a swamp-dommel was beating its monotonous rhythm, although the bird itself was too well hidden to be seen. On the opposite bank stood a lonesome ram, drinking to his heart’s content.

  Ankle-deep in the mud, Nill, Tiriwi and Brolok attempted to make waves in the water. Nill managed a slight rippling of the surface, but he had to fight back the bulrushes that kept trying to attach themselves to him. He did not do very well at splitting Water and Wood magic. Brolok caused some high waves to form, but this took him a very long time and he was exhausted by the end of it. Tiriwi surprised them all: she simply took a stone, threw it in a large arc and watched it calmly as it crashed down into the lake. Ripple upon ripple emanated from where the stone had landed. The first, the strongest, reached the banks, but the smaller ones gave up on the way. As the Water mage was about to say something Tiriwi raised her hand and the waves were renewed at the place the previous ones had come from. “You see, the lake remembers,” she said, smiling.

  That evening Nill, Brolok and Tiriwi sat together again as they ate their dinner. It was a quiet evening. Each of the three was lost in their own thoughts and felt little inclination to talk, but at least the Hermits’ Caves had regained their peacefulness.

  Nill hoped he would show some signs of prowess at Wood magic – at least more than he had at the others. After all, he had managed to uproot small plants and separate them from the earth that clung to them. And so the next day found him in slightly better spirits than usual. They made their way to the Wood mages’ quarter, where they were informed that their mage was waiting for them on the battlefield.

  Brolok had been frowning for a while. When Nill asked why, he grumbled: “Bet it’s a woman. Wood magic is women’s magic.”

  Tiriwi stayed silent as usual, but she shot a disparaging look at Brolok.

  “How do we get to the battlefield from here?” Nill took out his map. “I haven’t actually written anything down yet, but there’s probably a door somewhere here.” His eyes rested faithfully on Brolok.

  Brolok wandered along the inner wall. The few days he had spent in Ringwall had been enough to sharpen his senses to the point that he no longer had to touch the stones to find things. He felt gateways and portals from quite some distance.

  “We can go through here.”

  Nill hastily made a note with a piece of coal. He would ink over it later.

  Tiriwi and Brolok had already reached the Wood mage and greeted her (Brolok had been right, it seemed) once Nill caught up with them.

  “Empyrade!” he exclaimed. “How lovely to see you.”

  Brolok twitched, but Empyrade simply laughed.

  “You think that an appropriate greeting?” she asked, an impish smile on her face.

  Nill blushed, although Empyrade’s smile showed clearly that she was not angry. He pulled himself together and bowed formally.

  “The magic of Wood is limited to the world’s surface. It penetrates into the earth far more shallowly than that of Water, not to mention Metal, Fire and of course Earth. It doesn’t reach far into the sky either, but it connects the latter to the former. The reason Wood magic is so powerful is because we, too, live on the world’s surface. Wood energy is also human energy,” she explained.

  Brolok shook his head slightly. Fire and Metal. These were mighty energies, to be used in combat and battle. Water and Earth could swallow entire armies! And Wood? Wood was little more than a club against a sword, a bat versus an ax. Not worth much.

  Empyrade smiled again and pointed towards one of the large boulders that had rolled down Knor-il-Ank countless years ago.

  “Look,” she said. The boulder began to shake. There was a dry bang and the stone was suddenly showing cracks that were growing rapidly. A few heartbeats later the entire boulder had crumbled into tiny nuggets.

  “That was root-force, a brutal, direct way of fighting with Wood. It can tear any armor apart, aside from metal plating.”

  Brolok nodded in appreciation. There seemed to more to Wood than he had given it credit for.

  “Many warriors wear plate, though,” he argued.

  Still she smiled. “Metal always contains traces of Water, and Water is quick to be drained by Wood. The iron becomes brittle and offers little in the way of protection. Don’t underestimate Wood magic, iron boy.”

  Tiriwi had been elated to have a female teacher to show them the ways of Wood magic. Learning sisters. And now this. Warmongering, impressed by her own destructive power. This was no woman, this was a man disguised
as one. Tiriwi felt betrayed, even more so as she realized that Nill and Brolok clearly admired this mage.

  “There are more rocks over here. Try your best.”

  As usual Brolok made the first attempt. He stood there, deep inside his mind, and raised his arm. After a long while he shook his head.

  “I can’t do it. I don’t feel anything I can source the power from,” he said and his arm drooped down to his side.

  “Look at me, Brolok.” Empyrade was looking deep into Brolok’s eyes, past them, deep inside him. “Do you feel anything?”

  Brolok nodded. “So that’s what Wood sounds like.”

  “Sounds?” Tiriwi interjected.

  “Yes, like song.”

  Empyrade’s smile still did not leave her face. “Speak to the flowers and let them sing. You may not become a Master of Wood, Brolok, but you will learn simple spells in time. Be patient. You needn’t try before you can communicate with the plants.”

  Nill had a desire to prove himself this time. He shot his roots into the rock to tear it apart. The rock flew high into the air, slammed down onto the ground and rolled quite a bit down the slope. Brolok barely managed to leap out of the way.

  “I remember you tried to blow the door down, too,” Empyrade commented.

  “Which door’s this?” Brolok asked inquisitively.

  Again, Nill found himself blushing.

  “You’re using too much force. Try and let the stone be unharmed and wrap it with a few thin roots instead. That’ll do for a start.”

  A root the size of a man’s arm broke through the ground and wrapped around the rock.

  “Many small, delicate roots, I meant,” Empyrade corrected Nill’s attempts.

  The thick root kept growing and constricting the rock. It wound around and around and then buried itself back in the ground.

  Empyrade shook her head. “I wonder how you can bend such a strong root. If the thing with many small roots is too difficult, try starting with two next time, then four, and so forth, until you’ve got many roots.” She looked at Tiriwi.

  Tiriwi was not about to give up the field to Empyrade without a fight. As an Oa she was on good terms with the plants and animals of nature. While Empyrade had been busy with the two boys Tiriwi had grown a few quickgrass blades, their underground roots now lying in long vines along the earth. At her command the vines rose up and ensnared the rock so completely that it looked like a large green fruit.

  Empyrade nodded appreciatively. “If anyone wants to harvest that fruit – well, good luck to them.”

  She not only taught her students offensive magic, but also let them play with the plants. She showed them how plants stretch their leaves towards the light and how to take advantage of this, let them open and close the blossoms and call for the plants and animals. Tiriwi felt herself laughing for the first time in what seemed like years. She was allowed to play with the plants and have fun with the animals, but she had never known that plants had the power to call animals. In hindsight, it seemed rather obvious. She had just begun to like Empyrade a little bit when the teacher called out: “And finally, let’s return to the roots.”

  While Tiriwi, Brolok and Nill were concerned with Wood magic, two dissimilar figures stood together atop the wall. The sun was low and it was easy to hide in the shadows cast by the blinding light that reflected on the walls.

  “There will be war, my friend,” Prince Sergor-Don said. “My father is on his deathbed, and any day now I expect to be called back to take the throne. It’s only a matter of time before the Masters of Wood and the King of Earthland try to sink their teeth into my kingdom. What I’m asking you, therefore, is where Ringwall stands in these matters.”

  “Had you asked that but a few winters ago, I would have firmly said that Ringwall keeps itself out of the matters of the Five Kingdoms. But what was certain yesterday, today is subject to the changing mood. The rumor is that the Magon and the archmages are solely concerned with the looming danger of the Great Change.”

  The Fire Mage, his red robe almost black in the shadow cast by the wall, had worry etched into his face.

  “So the ancient legends are true, then?” the prince asked.

  “The council presumes so. You know these legends, Your Highness?”

  “All children know them, but nobody takes them seriously.” The prince smiled coldly. “So these legends are why Ringwall has stooped so low as to take in a muckling, a moronic blacksmith and a filthy woodswoman.” The prince saw no reason to disguise his disgust.

  “Silence, please,” the mage whispered. “Nobody outside of Ringwall must know about the nearing fulfillment of the prophecy. You never heard this from me.”

  “There is no keeping that secret. The Oa knows why she’s here, and her two lackeys probably do too. No!” the prince said emphatically. “Ringwall will be its own downfall. Not the prophecy. The only thing that has to do with it is how Ringwall handles it. Ringwall is weak. The abandonment of the old rules and traditions shows how weak the Circle has become. I wonder what will become of the Kingdoms once Ringwall falls.”

  “That will never happen. As ever the magic of Pentamuria is collected here, and the might of our archmages is incomparable. Not to mention the Magon: he’s almost a demigod.”

  Prince Sergor-Don smiled his cruel smile. “Are you really so sure about that? The archmages are old. Their experience may grow, but their power weakens. Part of the blind faith in their strength is a charade anyway. They hide away from the world, so reclusive that few can claim ever to have seen an Archmage.”

  “You have seen them, as have the other students. For the first time since I can remember the Magon and his archmages greeted the new students in person. You are right, they hide, but they are not afraid of quick and decisive action.”

  The prince laughed out loud. “Even you have fallen for their masquerade. Like all the others, you don’t know your own masters. Avoid that which you do not know; it could have bigger teeth than you. And if they’re shrouded in the mantle of invincibility they need not fear any challenge.”

  “You are young, Sire, and rash in your judgment. I do agree that part of their power lies in the strength of secrets and wild tales of their past. But consider: every Archmage has a long road of magic behind them. This is no position you are born into, it must be earned. And no Archmage would ever acknowledge someone as Magon unless that someone is stronger than themselves. Dismissing the Magon as old and decrepit would be a fateful underestimation.”

  “I believe what I see. The Oa was the only one to dare face off against him because she stands outside Ringwall and sees through the mists of uncertainty. The Magon let her be.

  “Oh yes, the archmages pull many strings and understand the business that is power. They are cunning, I’ll give them that. They have an answer to every spell and usually a backup in their sleeve. But those who dare what nobody dares will find less resistance than you’d imagine. With speed, determination and pure strength they can be overpowered. There are white mages in this building that are more powerful than the Magon. Trust me.”

  The Fire Mage looked anything but trusting.

  The young prince’s gaze lingered on the mage for a long time before he spoke again. “We’ll see soon enough how strong the Magon really is.”

  “Do you intend to challenge him?” the Fire Mage asked mockingly.

  The prince flashed his smile again. “Who knows? Someday later, maybe. I lack the experience – I’m no more than a neophyte, am I not? But how about you start teaching me to challenge him?”

  The Fire Mage gasped in fright. “That is not to be joked about, Your Highness. That is treason.”

  “Apologies. I should not have made that joke. Blame it on my youthfulness and my lack of experience with the rules of the house. But the reason we are here is because I need your help.” His cold smile had left his face. He was looking thoughtfully at his hands. “It isn’t certain, my good friend, whether I will finish my education here. And even if I can,
I’ll have no time to retreat into my study and practice my skill as a sorcerer. I will be forced to protect my kingdom, and between me and my enemies there is a Ringwall with a Magon and a council that has subverted the clear traditions of the past. What I need from you is additional magical training. A shortcut to power, as it were. I know there are faster routes that are offered in Ringwall.”

  “Your court employs capable sorcerers, and these shortcuts are dangerous.”

  “I’ve no fear of danger, you know that. Why do you think I’ve commanded our troops to stay near the capital rather than sending them to the Borderlands where they’re needed? I’ll tell you why. When the old lion grows weary, the scavengers crawl out of their holes. There is unrest in the kingdom. There are dukes and tribe-leaders that have more than a sharp eye on the throne. If there is war between us and Earthland and I am forced to hide behind my generals and sorcerers, there will be revolt.” The prince paused for a moment and the word “revolt” hung threateningly in the air between these two men so very different from one another. “No, my friend. If it comes to war, I will be at the head of the charge, I will be the one to destroy my enemies. Not my court sorcerers. So I need a way to grow my power. All I need is power and strength; I lack the time for practice. Show me your most powerful Fire spells. All I want is for them to be strong. You will not be disadvantaged.” His tone had become coaxing.

  The Fire Mage seemed to consider this for a while.

  “Very well, the shortcut is easy. You have enough strength for it. Just push it through your body. Your body may be harmed, but it will adapt. You will be scarred, but you will survive. There will be a few spells you will no longer be able to cast, but these spells are probably the ones you desire not to learn, if I understood correctly. Once you have fought your way through that, I will teach you Firebreath, which you can use to save incredible amounts of energy in your body, but beforehand you will have to learn the use of magical seals. There are points in your body where energy must not pass through. It would turn you into a babbling lunatic.”