Magician In Training (Power of Poses Book 1)

by Guy Antibes

  He sighed as he turned his horse around to catch up with the others. After an hour, Rasia stopped them. The quarry extended out four or five hundred paces and about fifty paces down. The top layer of dirt wasn’t more than a pace deep and then the mostly dark gray rock mixed with lighter multi-colored rock lined the walls.

  “Follow me,” Rasia said. “We aren’t far from the ramp that will take us to the quarry floor. Then you two can spell to your heart’s content without burning the city down.” Her distaste for things magical always came through rather strongly.

  The three scouts that accompanied them rode to an adjacent copse of trees and dismounted. Rasia led them along for a hundred paces and turned into the quarry. Trak saw that she had taken a ramp that took them to the quarry floor. Rocks of all sizes littered the quarry. It seemed once the owner decided enough rock had been removed, they just left it as a scar in the land.

  “Magicians have kept the quarry clear of water until now. After we are through, they will grade the sides and turn this into a nice lake,” Honor said.

  Trak finally found something useful that a magician could do, other than light a candle or illuminate a room. “Maybe we can observe,” he said. “I’d like to see what Magicians can do to help other people rather than themselves.”

  Rasia looked back at him. “Well, that is one of the smartest things I’ve heard you say, young Fidelia.”

  He still thought of himself as a Bluntwithe, despite all of the revelations about his origins. Trak didn’t know if she had spoken sarcastically or not.

  “He still has a lot to learn,” Honor said.

  Trak agreed wholeheartedly with that. At one time, he thought that if he knew the sixty-seven poses and power words that he would know everything there was to know about magic. The Espozian guild pretty much agreed with that outlook, but he now knew better.

  “Dismount, Trak,” Honor said as she did so herself. She took her saddlebag from the horse and handed the reins to Rasia.

  Trak did the same, but he kept his new knife and sword at his waist. He had finally found a place large enough to duplicate what he had done to the pursuing guild members outside of the woods that led them to the pass. He watched Rasia lead the horses up the ramp.

  “You’ll have to walk up the ramp when you’re done,” she called, and then disappeared from sight.

  “Shall we start with that lightning sword trick?”

  Trak nodded. “I can finally try to duplicate it in a safe place.”

  “Safer,” Honor said. “The greatest danger is your losing control of your pose.”

  “Right.” He drew his sword and pointed it towards a wall about fifty paces away. He closed his eyes and assumed the lightning pose, adjusting his mental picture of the flow of power to accommodate the horizontal attitude of his sword. He pronounced the power word and the thin stream of lightning emitted from the end of his weapon. Trak moved it back and forth and then lifted it to the sky, where the light, as bright as the sun flowed up. He relaxed and the stream shrunk, and then disappeared.

  “I’ll need to sit for a bit,” he said, using his sword as a cane. He didn’t feel as drained as he had in Santasia. All of his work with Ben had strengthened his use of magic.

  “It’s time for a bite to eat anyway,” Honor said.

  They both sat down on a block of rock and grabbed some bread and bottles of light wine from their saddlebags.

  “What should I try next?”

  Honor shrugged. “Whatever you want. This is your idea.”

  “Wind, fire and, if I’m able, water, but from the edge.”

  She chuckled, just a bit. “A wise strategy since I’m not one to like getting wet.”

  After a bit of a rest, Trak projected a stream of flame with his knife and his sword. He used the same focus and found the sword greatly increased the reach of the flame.

  “We think that the knife and sword seem to act as conduits for the earth’s energy for you. The larger the conduit the greater the effect, until your own ability to move power is at its maximum, then the effect starts to drain your own inner energy,” Honor said. “I tried to use a knife and it didn’t take long to begin to drain me, but with your power, it works.”

  Trak had heard the same from Ben because the knife didn’t seem to tax him at all, but he could feel weakening as he used the sword to project a stream of flame. The fire was less focused than the lightning. He wondered if he had a large metal rod, how far he could fling fire in a single pulse. When Honor wasn’t looking, he took a deep breath and projected a flame, just thinking of the word. He had spent weeks concentrating on not making the trigger words fuzzy. He smiled at his success, but he noticed that the energy that flowed through his knife took more out of him than with a spoken word.

  Ben had talked about resistance in developing power words. An innovator tried to find a power word that created less resistance and that was the case for mentally spoken words, as well.

  This insight had given him a better idea of his limits. Before this time in the quarry, Trak had fantasized about being all-powerful. Now that he knew that not to be the case, the fact actually comforted him a bit. Riotro of the Espozian guild would have limits as well.

  The mentally spoken wind word had a similar effect, but had dissipated much quicker from his posing.

  “I’m going to try a last pose.”

  “Which one?” Honor said.

  “Force, the power to move objects. I’ve only used it to knock a block of wood off of a stone bench and have always restricted my focus.”

  She looked at him with that severity firmly implanted on her face. “We will talk of this after you try it.”

  Trak had noticed a block of stone about a pace on each side that sat on a pile of broken rock. He assumed it wouldn’t be suitable for a building. He pointed his sword at the stone and used all of the power he could command and yelled the power word for one short, huge burst of power. The stone shot off into the air and exploded against the quarry wall about four hundred paces away with a huge booming sound. Trak jumped excitedly in the air. He looked to see how much damage the stone had caused, but the area was covered with a thick cloud of dust.

  Rasia called to them from the edge. “Are you two all right?” The two scouts poked their heads over the edge as well. They all looked alarmed.

  Honor looked shaken, but the sharp instant force hadn’t drained him of energy. Trak waved. “We are fine. Just practicing.”

  “You’ve done enough for today,” Honor said. Her voice was subdued and the shooting block had a much different effect on her. “Time to drink some water and then we’ll leave. I’m sure you’ll be totally worn out by the time we get back to Bitrium.”

  Trak lifted up his saddlebag and found out that he had less strength than he thought. He stuffed some more bread in his mouth and washed it down with the wine. “I’ll take yours, too.” He lifted Honor’s bag and followed her as she led back to the ramp and up to the edge of the quarry.

  “What was that explosion? I thought I would see two mangled bodies at the bottom,” Rasia said.

  “I moved a stone block all the way across the quarry. The dust from the explosion is just dissipating,” Trak said. His jaw dropped when he saw the jumble of stones that looked as if a giant fist had slammed down on a wall made of sand. The magicians wouldn’t have to ease the edge of that length of wall. Now he understood what Honor must have sensed. He could level a city wall with that spell.

  Rasia stood gawking at the destruction. “You made the right choice coming here to experiment.” Her voice was shaking.

  “Tell me,” Honor said. “Have you ever seen a magician take out a wall like that?”

  Rasia looked confused.

  Trak said, “The Black Master of the Espozian Magicians Guild?” He looked at the pile of rock. “Could he do that?”

  “No, but enough to damage a city wall, including Bitrium’s.”

  That thought didn’t sit well with Trak. “Couldn’t Nullia or you
do that?”

  “A smaller rock moving at less speed, yes, of course, but not enough to cause that much damage.”

  “And Riotro knows this spell?” Trak felt a bit of fear as he thought of the unpredictable magician. “Does he know a sword will increase the spell’s power?”

  Honor nodded. “The basic theory, yes. You can come back and fill this with water if you want, but not today. I want to get back to Bitrium as soon as possible and calm down a bit.” She gulped down the rest of her wine bottle and mounted her horse. If anything, she looked more nervous than before.

  “I must leave now,” one of the scouts said. His face looked white with fear.

  Trak looked at him, riding hard, far ahead of them. Rasia and Honor didn’t say a word while Trak thought of pulses of power rather than one continuous stream. If he did that he could conserve his energy.

  He found himself excited about the new theory of pulses and the theory of making it work to destroy things, but then he looked over at Honor’s face. Has she instantly comprehended the ramifications of his power, but from the point of view of the receiving party? What if Trak rode at the head of an army? No city would be safe behind their walls. No houses safe from burning to the ground.

  As he reached the city walls, he felt like a little child who had burned his fingers playing in the fire.

  “I’m sorry for what I did today,” Trak said. His desire to experiment with projected power words with thought now scared him. Before, the words of Ben were just there to scare him, but now, after seeing Honor’s face, she was the scared one.

  “Be prepared for ramifications.” She said something quietly to Rasia and the two women and the remaining scout rode ahead of him into the city.

  He must have done something really, really bad. But what? Sometimes Trak didn’t think he understood his hosts at all.

  ~

  Asem woke him from the nap he took, a few hours after Trak returned from the quarry. “You have a visitor.” Trak had rarely seen Asem look so serious.

  A Colcanan stood at the doorway.

  “I’m to take you to the Board of Deans. They are assembling as we speak.”

  The look on the messenger’s face told him that the scout must have stirred the Deans up.

  He followed the messenger on into the city and they entered the tallest of the towers and took the lift all the way to the top.

  The messenger showed Trak to a waiting room. Trak took a seat at a bench in front of one of the two windows in the room. “They haven’t all arrived, but it shouldn’t be too long. You are to stay here until summoned,” the man said before leaving.

  Trak hadn’t done anything wrong. Ben said he needed to practice his power. He rose from the bench and turned to look out at the city. At least he hadn’t tried anything rash inside the city walls. They had to know that. Trak realized he could probably send a block of stone into the base of a tower and topple it. But he would never do such a thing! He twisted his hands as he began to pace back and forth in the small room.

  Honor entered the room, dressed in a dark gray robe instead of a dress. “It is time,” she said. “Steel yourself and don’t do anything hasty.” Honor didn’t utter another word as she held the door open for him.

  Two guards stood at double doors. He hadn’t initially met with the Board when he arrived in Bitrium, but only the few in the training room. No one gave him an encouraging glance, in fact, hostility seemed to radiate from the guards and from a few of the Deans.

  He looked about the room and found Ben sitting by himself in the back of the chamber. Honor sat along with the Board of Deans.

  “I haven’t done anything wrong!” Trak said. His mind filled with confusion. Why didn’t they just sit him down and talk to him? All he needed was a warning or something, but the faces he looked at didn’t look like he’d be getting a warning. He had violated some rule that he didn’t know about. What could it be?

  His palms began to sweat, so he wiped them on his pants. He still smelled the dust from the ride back to Bitrium on his clothes. The energy that had drained from him left him with little physical stamina. “Can I sit?”

  Ben brought a straight-backed chair to a place that faced the center of the table that held nine Deans, Honor included. He leaned over and put his head in his hands. What did he do? What would they do to him?

  “Trak Fidelia?” Berin Titrius said.

  “I’m not a Fidelia,” Trak blurted out. “My name is Trak Bluntwithe!” He wouldn’t let them label him with an unfamiliar name. He glared at Honor. She could have warned him. She had let all of this happen, and he had made the mistake of trusting her! She looked away, holding her chin with her hand.

  “Very well then,” a visibly perturbed Berin said. “You have been observed using forbidden power in Colcan.”

  “Forbidden? I learned my poses from Honor and Ben!” He pointed at Honor. “She was there the whole time and I told her what I was going to do every time I practiced something.”

  Berin held up his hand. “No more outbursts, if you please. It wasn’t the poses, but the power that you used. We can’t have a person with such power living amongst us. Citizens of the city will not rest easy knowing that an individual can do severe damage to the city with his or her power.”

  “Why would I do that? You’ve given me lodgings, food, instruction.” Trak looked back at Ben, who returned his gaze, but Trak couldn’t read his face. “I remind you that we went to that quarry so there wouldn’t be any injuries or property damage.”

  A Dean he didn’t know jumped to her feet and pointed at him. “Silence when your betters are talking to you.”

  Trak’s temper flared out of control. He jumped to his feet again. “Just how are you my betters when you want to exile me for practicing magic none of you are capable of?” He pointed his finger at the woman, whose eyes widened. She backed away to the wall behind her. Trak felt ashamed for pointing and sat down folding his arms in total frustration.

  “Who said anything about exile?” Berin said. “Our codes mandate that you be executed as a prime danger to the city. A Dean of our Board has observed your power. That is enough.”

  Trak felt numb. Honor wanted him dead? He looked at her again, yet she wouldn’t meet his gaze. “She’s my aunt…”

  “You said you are not a Fidelia,” Berin said.

  “She’s still my aunt, no matter what name I go by.” He shook his head. Was this a dream, a nightmare?

  “Board?” Berin looked at all of the Board members. They all nodded their heads except for Honor.

  “Not death! It doesn’t have to be death!” Honor said as she rose from her seat fled from the room.

  “You are to be taken from this room and thrown from the tower, immediately.”

  Trak couldn’t deal with the betrayal of the Board. He didn’t deserve to live, if these magicians, purportedly the most powerful in the world couldn’t bear to have him amongst them. The anger left, replaced by the numbness he felt when he first entered the chamber. He let the guards bind him hand and foot and drag him from the room.

  He looked for Ben, but he had deserted him, as well. No one could help him. Asem would have no idea what had just happened. He was isolated, alone as he had never been before. Honor had become an enemy. But what did it matter, now? His short life was to end on the pavement far, far below. His eyes began to water, but Trak willed them to stop. He stood up as straight as he could, although he didn’t feel like doing so. Neel had always drilled into him to face adversity with his chin up. At least he could do that.

  They took him up a stairway to the roof. It was flat with a four-foot wall at the edges of the tower. He closed his eyes. Trak refused to look at Bitrium again.

  He heard Berin’s voice. “For the good of Bitrium and Colcan, your life is to be ended, by decree of the Board of Deans of the Bitrium Magicians College.”

  Trak felt hands grasp his body. They lifted him up to the short wall and pushed him over. Trak kept his eyes shut and thought of Nee
l and Able and Valanna as he felt the air rush past him. Valanna, how he wished he could see her again.

  He tensed his body for the impact and hoped for an instant death.

  ~~~

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  “DON’T LEAVE THE HOUSE,” DALISTRO SAID while he threw a cloak around his shoulders. He wore common clothes. “My father is worried about Ozitza across the river. There are rumors of unrest that I must verify.”

  “Why must you go out?” Valanna said.

  “Because I work for the Santasian Council.” Dalistro’s tone indicated that he didn’t expect or want another comment.

  “I rarely leave the house anyway. Will I still have tutors?” She really didn’t care to learn anymore from Sereni.

  “Of course. I care less for their welfare than yours. Your bright yellow hair will attract attention. Please follow my advice,” Dalistro said. His tone was a bit more conciliatory and since he gave her a logical reason, Valanna felt more comfortable in accepting it.

  She walked him the rest of the way to the door and closed it after he left. She leaned against the back of the door and felt the pangs of worry, but she didn’t know whom she worried more about. All of those who she trusted and counted for friends were in Colcan or Santasia. Asem and Kulara, Trak and Honor. Dalistro wouldn’t tell her all of the facts, but she never felt that he actually lied to her.

  Who would she rather be with? Trak, most definitely. He had no secret agendas, no history of deception like all of the others. Were her standards twisted? All but Trak had been spies or lived with spies. All of them had treated her like a possession rather than a person, with the exception of Trak, but there was that age difference.

  She tried to keep thinking of him as a younger brother and that image kept fading into one where she longed to be with him and talk about their histories. She barely had the chance to have much in the way of a conversation with him once they had freed him from the bandits, but what little they had only reinforced her feelings that he had concern for her and he wrote polite letters always wishing her well.