Magic, Sorcery and Witchcraft: Book One of Marcus Grimm saga

by Stas Borodin

  Rolling over onto my stomach, I propped myself up on hands and knees. The nausea hit me like a murky suffocating wave, mercilessly squeezing my guts and throat. I bent over and vomited.

  “What’s going on?” Ash stirred by the door, awakened by the noise. He quickly jumped to his feet and groaned, rubbing his head. “Help me, Orvad, what happened here?” He stumbled up to me and grabbed me by the shoulder. His face was white as chalk. He saw the bloody corpse on the floor, and froze for a moment, dumbfounded.

  “Don’t tell me we’ve missed all the action!” His strong hands were shaking. The scout turned the dead man with his foot and chuckled. “You did a clean job, brother. Only two strikes!”

  The room was dirty, even though my job was clean. The ceiling, walls, furniture and even curtains were splattered with gore. The blood that had clotted during the night was black like tar.

  Ash shook Mash by the shoulder. The old scout half-opened his eyes, but he couldn’t wake up completely.

  “Come on, old man, get yourself together!” Ash wasn’t going to give up.

  I dragged myself to the bed and collapsed, trying to catch my breath.

  Mash finally got up from his armchair and retched too, splattering his friend’s boots.

  “We almost got ourselves killed,” Ash informed him happily. “Look, there is our hero!”

  Mash dealt with his stomach and rushed to me. “Thank Orvad you’re all right!” he gasped. “Tell me what happened here?”

  I told him in a few words, but even a short story took away my last strength. My eyelids closed by themselves and I slid into a black well of unconsciousness.

  I woke up feeling something cold and wet touching my face. I opened my eyes and saw Ash’s happy smile; the scout was trying to scrub the dried blood from my cheeks.

  “It’s all right, brother.” He winked at me. “We got rid of the corpse and made the room tidy.”

  I moaned, trying to push the wet rag away. Mash caught my limp hand and handed me a big mug filled with some stinking scout’s brew.

  “Drink it, don’t smell it!”

  He made me swallow a few mouthfuls, and I immediately felt better.

  “We were drugged by Mistar’s Flowers,” Mash said, checking the contents of the mug. “I should have seen this coming.”

  “Yeah, we found them stuck in bouquets in every room,” Ash said. “They opened up at midnight and put us to sleep with their aroma.”

  “With their damned stench!” Mash spat.

  I remembered some of the stories told of Mistar’s Flowers. They were sad stories. They told about some evil flower hiding in the flower beds, in the woods, and in the fields among the crops. They had no particular habitat. Just like weeds, they could appear anywhere, bringing grief and sorrow. During the day the flower was dormant, waiting for the cool of the night. It opened its translucent blue petals only at midnight, exuding an odour strong enough to knock down an elk or even a bear.

  “I found five,” said Mash. “I wonder where he got them.”

  “Rumour has it that the priests grow them themselves,” Ash said. “It’s possible that our friend was one of them damn gardeners.”

  “Have you seen Avner and Armel?” I asked, looking around. “Are they all right?”

  “They were luckier than us,” said Ash. “They were standing in the open air, so they got a smaller dose of the poison. I sent them to take care of the corpse while the hotel owner is tearing his hair out and firing one guard after another.”

  Part 3

  Chapter 1

  The Academy of Magic was located outside the city walls. It looked more like a fortress, with a water-filled moat, drawbridge and high watchtowers. An ancient-looking paved road connected the Academy to the city.

  We left Paara early in the morning, loading our horses with bags and bales stuffed with the day before’s purchases.

  “I bought you another five suits of different colours, twenty sets of underwear, some scarves, stockings, and dozen hats.” Ash pointed to a small tower of round flat boxes. “Your mum would kill me if I let you to go naked!”

  Mash rolled his eyes. “Naked? Are you mad?” He patted his broad chest. “Look, lad, this is my whole wardrobe, and I’m proud that I don’t need a spare horse to carry around another pair of pants.”

  “Me too,” Ash nodded, smiling. “But Master Marcus will be living among men, not horses. He really needs all this stuff.”

  “Right,” Mash chuckled. “Twenty sets of underwear?”

  Looking at all these boxes and bags, I felt uneasy. Even back home in Lieh I didn’t have so much stuff.

  “I took the liberty of choosing a few colognes,” continued Ash. “It is very important to smell good!”

  That took me by surprise. Back in Lieh, only women wore perfume.

  “First of all, you have to find yourself some good friends of your age,” said Mash. “He who finds a friend finds treasure!”

  “Right,” Ash said. “But it will be a hard task to find a friend in such a snake pit.”

  I was already upset by the forthcoming parting from my friends the scouts, and now my mood was spoiled entirely.

  “Why are you looking at me like that?” Ash asked. “I’m telling the truth.”

  I felt sick at such a truth.

  At the Academy gates, we were stopped by armed guards.

  “Only students are allowed beyond here,” announced a hefty watchman blocking our path with a spear.

  I turned to the scouts. It seemed to me that in that moment they grew terribly distant, becoming almost strangers. I could barely hold back the tears.

  One by one, I shook their hands. Armel and Avner stood to attention.

  “Don’t worry about these two, we’ll get them home safe and sound,” Ash reassured me. “Go now, student, you are on your own.”

  I sniffed, forced a smile and took the first step towards my destiny.

  ✽✽✽

  There were already two dozen fashionably dressed and nice-smelling young men gathered in the Academy’s courtyard. My appearance was met by a simultaneous sigh of admiration. The hat was working its magic. It was so funny that my sadness dissipated in an instant like a morning mist. There was a new road lying ahead of me, a road full of adventures and mysteries, a clean untrodden one without a single footprint on it.

  I carelessly pushed my magic hat back and patted Andar’s neck. The students’ eyes widened, shifting to my magnificent steed. As expected, I was rewarded by a new sigh of admiration. Unbelievable as it might be, Ash was right, my clothes and horse had opened before me a door to Paara’s high society.

  “If I could afford it, I would be dressed in the same way.” I heard a voice from behind. “But my horse, at least, is as good as yours!”

  I turned around and saw a young man dressed in a dark-blue suit embroidered with gold sequins. His horse was truly magnificent. Black as night with a snow-white mane and tail.

  “Roykol is the name, son of Roykol from Port Lear.” The young man offered his hand.

  “Marcus Grimm, son of Marius Grimm from Lieh.”

  “From Lieh?” Roykol looked surprised. “Damn, even on the very edge of the world they dress with style.”

  “Not really,” I retorted. “We usually go butt naked around our caves.”

  Roykol threw up his hands as if surrendering and laughed. Funny dimples danced on his cheeks when he laughed. His hair was blond, almost white, and his eyes were dark, like black olives. He sat surely in his high saddle, letting the reins hang from the horn. I judged him to be a very experienced rider.

  “For a caveman, you have a pretty good sense of humour!” Roykol nodded towards the other students. “Can’t say that about our friends.”

  The other students stood either alone or in small groups. Some of them were still sitting in their saddles; some were sprawled on benches, hiding in the shade from the scorching sun.

  The courtyard was a fairly large one, big enough to hold a military parade. N
ot far from me I could see an imposing stone throne, topped by a plump teenager holding a half-eaten apple and a huge sandwich in his hands. Colourful flags and pennants hung limp above our heads.

  “A pitiful sight.” Roykol nodded at the crowd. “Some country bumpkins and lowborn bastards this year.”

  I stiffened, smoothing the front of my fine suit. I wondered what the son of Roykol would have said about me if I hadn’t been wearing the Amrus hat.

  “My father likes expensive suits too.” Roykol nodded casually at my attire. “Our master-tailor made a mannequin with my father’s measurements and sent it to Mercuro. The suit, of course, cost a small fortune, but you should have seen the faces of our dear neighbours. Ha! It was priceless!”

  I tried to ignore the chatter of my new acquaintance, who, it seemed, just liked the sound of his own voice. He was telling me something about fashion, hunting, falcons and about the ladies of the court whom he would not mind pollinating. I didn’t understand even half of what he was saying. Back in Lieh we didn’t use such words, so I decided to keep my mouth shut, just to avoid embarrassment.

  “Lord Tauron’s youngest cousin is a mighty cute one.” Roykol smiled faintly. “But I was betrothed to Lord Parte’s oldest daughter. Damn! I know that Partiika is a more favourable match, but the ugliness of Parte’s womenfolk is the stuff of legend. You should have seen her mother’s beak! What good can come out of such a marriage?”

  I nodded absent-mindedly, looking at the bustling crowd. New students were streaming in constantly and soon the spacious courtyard was overcrowded.

  “Don’t worry, my friend, most of them will fail the entrance test.” Roykol winked at me. “What do they expect? It’s the Academy of Magic, after all! Look!”

  A small flame danced on Roykol’s open palm.

  “And what kind of Gift do you have?”

  “I can read your mind,” I replied without hesitation.

  Roykol recoiled, frightened. Judging by the reaction, his thoughts were worth keeping secret.

  “Come on,” he laughed stiffly. “That’s not a Gift!”

  I laughed too and Roykol sighed with relief.

  ✽✽✽

  It was close to noon, and my fellow scouts were already far away from Paara. I wondered how the crossbowmen would be met at home. What would Korn say about this unexpected reinforcement? I hoped he would be happy; he could always find use for a pair of strong hands.

  A tall man in a hunting suit entered the courtyard and looked around. Then he clapped his hands loudly, attracting everyone’s attention. “I have to ask you, gentlemen, to dismount. Your horses and baggage will be taken care of. Don’t worry; everything will be under my close supervision.”

  The courtyard boiled. Dozens of servants appeared, exchanging luggage and horses for tiny numbered plates. I got my piece of brass with the number 15 on it and carefully tucked it deep into my pocket.

  “What happens if I lose my tag?” someone shouted.

  “You’ll go home on foot,” the tall man smiled. “Even if you’re from Lieh!”

  I was puzzled by the laughter; it seemed that my hometown was considered some shitty hole on the very edge of the world.

  Roykol winked at me. “Either way, you are not walking.”

  Who knew? I hadn’t known about the entrance test. If I didn’t gain admission to the Academy, I’d have to return home. I felt a nasty chill on my back. I’d have to return alone, with no friends, across the inhospitable and outright hostile lands.

  The tall man made sure that we got rid of the horses and baggage, allowing us to keep only our hand bags.

  “Come on, gentlemen.” He waved his hand. “Let’s not waste time.”

  Together we walked down the stairs and found ourselves in a cool dark room, lit only by two light spheres.

  “Wait here for a while, gentlemen. You’ll be admitted shortly.”

  A solid wooden door slammed behind him, and we were alone in the gloom.

  The room was bare, so we sat down on the cold stone floor and prepared to wait. After half an hour, the spheres began to fade. They died out completely shortly after that, and we were left in complete darkness.

  “Call someone; tell them to replace the spheres!” a voice said.

  “You can call them yourself if you want,” came the answer. “What if it’s all part of the test?”

  Here and there, lights glowed. Roykol lit a flame in his palm too. “Look at that,” he said in surprise. “Turns out I’m not the only one.”

  In the front row near the door a real torch flashed, illuminating the room so brightly that the light in my neighbour’s palm became almost invisible.

  “Don’t be afraid,” said the boy, lifting the fireball over his head. “It is not dangerous.”

  Roykol whistled and extinguished his own flame. It seemed he had greatly overestimated his chances of getting into the Academy. I chuckled, my own chances had evaporated like the morning dew. What weight had the word of Master Dante in distant Paara? Why had he decided that I was worthy to be accepted into the Academy? All this remained a mystery to me.

  The door opened a crack and a wizened old man in shabby old-fashioned clothes peered into the room.

  “Nice flashlight,” he smiled, nodding approvingly to the boy who carefully held his hand high over his head. “We are starting the interviews now, my friends. I will call three men at a time. Be patient, it won’t take long.”

  Indeed, the interviews took place at lightning speed. I didn’t even have time to get frustrated.

  “Marcus Grimm, Tarek Astor, Ming Prodem,” the old man said, reading from a sheet of paper. “Please come.”

  The room was spacious, brightly lit by the sunlight, and there were wizards. Ten of them. I was surprised to see a few clean-shaven young faces among the great silver beards and manes.

  The old man patted my shoulder and eased himself onto a creaking stool by the window.

  A giant of a man, who was apparently the chairman of the committee, invited us forward.

  “Ming Prodem, please.” He pointed to a chair. The young man took a seat obediently.

  “My name is Aydiola Glef,” the magician introduced himself. “I’m in charge here and I will decide if we should accept you as our students or send you back home. Convince me that you are worthy.”

  Spellbound, I stared at the old man. Who would have thought that the legendary magician, the hero of hundreds of tales and ballads, actually existed. He was quite a large man, with massive shoulders and heavy fists. I looked at his stern face, at his square scarred chin and hooked nose that seemed to have been broken several times in the past, and shook my head. The wizard looked like a seasoned prize fighter, a real bruiser.

  How old must he be? Five…six centuries? He must have seen the first kings of Lieh. I glanced at Ming Prodem. The boy looked terrified.

  “Well?” Master Aydiola raised his eyebrows.

  The young man stood up quickly, then jumped high and, instead of landing back on his feet, kept hanging in mid-air. That was unbelievable! The wizards stared at him as if expecting something.

  “How long can you keep yourself suspended?” one of them asked. “Don’t dare lie!”

  “All day long.” Ming Prodem kicked with his legs and climbed even higher, rising almost to the ceiling.

  “That’s enough,” said Aydiola Glef. “You have a Gift.”

  The youth descended to the floor and bowed low, hastily retreating through the back door. His place before the wizards was taken by the other candidate.

  Tarek Astor kindled a tiny fireball on his palm.

  The Master Magician sighed tiredly. “Is that all? Can you do anything else?”

  The poor fellow shook his head. I felt sorry for him; from my point of view, his Gift was amazing.

  “I’m sorry, kid.” The Master Magician shook his head. “It’s not a Gift. You can’t develop it, no matter how hard you try. Orvad has blessed you with a magic lighter, that’s all. Go home now.”r />
  The boy left the room without saying a word.

  “Marcus Grimm”—the magician motioned me to a chair—“you don’t have a Gift; that is well known to us.”

  I stared at the legendary magician.

  “Lady Era prophesied that your Gift would be revealed soon, but it wasn’t.” The wizard rose from his seat, looming over me. “Am I wrong?”

  I swallowed hard, unable to utter even a single word.

  “Speak up!”

  Everything was lost! Now I would be shown the door, and I’d have to get back home with my tail between my legs and my silly Amrus hat.

  “Master Keandr believes otherwise,” the old man spoke up from his chair by the window. “He believes that this young man has a Gift.”

  My heart pounded. I couldn’t believe that Master Keandr had put in a good word for me. It was incredible!

  “Master Keandr has always been your favourite,” the Master Magician grumbled.

  The old man came up to me. “I’m the real Aydiola Glef,” he said. “And I should make the final decision.”

  I held my breath. So this was what a real Master Magician looked like. Up close, he seemed even older.

  “Master Keandr claims that you have a very peculiar Gift, a Gift that the world has not yet seen.” The old man put his hand on my shoulder. “Your Gift is to be in the right place at the right time!”

  The wizards at the table protested. The old man stopped their objections with one wave of his hand. “I’ve listened to his reasoning, and I think that he may be right.” The magician smiled. “Well, young man, I’m just curious if it’s possible to develop your rare Gift even further.”

  “Maybe he does have some kind of Gift.” One of the wizards stood up. “But what makes you think that it has anything to do with magic?”

  “I don’t have a clue,” Aydiola Glef shrugged. “That’s what I have to find out.”

  From more than a hundred applicants there were only twelve men left. Roykol son of Roykol was nowhere to be seen.

  We were escorted to a vast dining room and seated in the far dimly lit corner. The dinner was hot, but for some reason I couldn’t taste anything. The freshmen were chattering happily, passing bowls filled with appetizers. I heard them talking to me but couldn’t make sense of a single word.