One Hundredth Magic
Page 36
“I can tell it didn't work when nothing appears in the water,” said Adam. “I don't need help from a frog."
The frog blinked twice and puffed out its cheeks.
Adam sighed and returned to his book. In the five years since Nikkolynda's disappearance only he and Pellorin had entered the Prime Wizard's workroom. The young apprentice felt more at home there than anywhere else in the keep and Pellorin, ever mindful of his last conversation with Nikkolynda, thought it best to accommodate Adam's instincts. He and Sheldon allowed Adam's training to proceed with a contradictory freedom and watchfulness—though he explored the arcane world without the strict rituals of his fellow apprentices, the senior wizards observed his every minute accomplishment. At times the intense scrutiny thickened the air about him and the boy felt as though he were being slowly suffocated with the weight of his instructors’ expectations. When he needed an escape from their eager eyes he fled to Nikkolynda's quarters and practiced his casts and charms in the solitude of the underground workroom.
He read aloud from the book, speaking in a clear, steady voice, but the drip of wax down the length of the central candle distracted him before the first sentence was complete. He broke off immediately and folded his arms across his chest, trying to tease the glimmer of an idea from the back of his mind.
“Not the words,” he said. “The intent.” He glanced at the frog, but it had apparently gone to sleep.
Gazing into the base of the candle flame, Adam inhaled deeply and let the Halonic phrases whisper through his mind rather than the workroom. He exhaled and turned his eyes to the water, then took in another breath and returned to the candle. By the fifth turn through the cycle his eyes dilated and an uncomfortable heat suffused his chest. He stared into the water, and it spread out to encompass his entire field of vision, an ocean contained in a single bowl. His thoughts immediately turned to Melanie, the subject of his scrying practice. By capturing the young woman's essence in his mind he should be able to learn at least her whereabouts, perhaps even hear the activities around her. He pictured the young soldier's face, the calluses on her hands from hours of sword practice, the characters etched in the ring through the side of her small nose. The water rippled and an image formed, a grassy field filled with blurred forms. They sharpened as he concentrated, becoming more and more human-shaped.
A blast of cold air suddenly washed over Adam's face and the frog croaked louder than he'd thought possible. The images in the water vanished as fast as they'd appeared but he gave them little thought. He could feel a presence in the workroom, an energy that filled the small chamber without casting a physical presence. From its shelf the frog continued crying out. Adam heard the wet, flopping sound as it leaped against its leather harness; but when he tried to look his head refused to turn. His feet seemed rooted to the floor and his hands locked on the edge of the table. Trying desperately to scream, he found that though his jaw worked up and down no sound came from his throat. Tiny tendrils of energy probed at the back of his mind, and he realized with horror that the spirit he'd somehow released now attacked his very sense of self. He steeled himself as best he could, marshaling his thoughts around the disciplinary exercises he'd learned, but the apprentice was no match for that which assailed him. He became dizzy abruptly; then the workroom vanished from his sight.
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He awoke to find himself still standing in front of Nikkolynda's table. The frog had finally quieted, though Adam didn't know if the creature was exhausted or outright dead. All he could think about was that horrible sensation of being ousted from control of his own body, forced aside as his attacker's presence had slipped into his mind. His legs trembled and threatened to buckle as he turned to the workroom door, intent on finding Pellorin immediately. Though the attacker seemed to have left for the time being, Adam knew he'd be just as easily bested should the presence return.
The candles on the worktable caught his attention and he stopped. Each of the tall sticks should have lasted more than an hour, but all three were melted to mere nubs on their holders. A glance at the time candle next to the door told him what he'd known instinctively—the attack had only lasted a few minutes. His eyes came to rest on the parchment atop his spell book and widened with shock. Two sentences were scrawled across the page, the first consisting of only two words: I exist.
Adam recognized Nikkolynda's handwriting instantly. Looking down at his own hand, he finally noticed that he held the quill, which had dripped ink on his robe. He picked up the parchment with shaking fingers. He read the second line of Nikkolynda's message three times before shaking his head and turning to the door. He'd hoped for a clue to the Prime Wizard's location, but Nikkolynda's words confused far more than they enlightened: There is only one magic.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Jeffrey Turner grew up in Michigan, though he spent a good deal of his time in places such as Narnia and Middle Earth. He now works for Microsoft and is a member of the Dallas writing group Future Classics. He lives in Fort Worth with his wife, Kerry, and two biggest fans, Shiloh and Cinder. When he's not writing Jeff plays ice hockey and travels to SFF conventions around the U.S. His web page can be found at http://www.JeffTurnerFiction.com.
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