Welcome To The Age of Magic

by C M Raymond et al.

  “Exactly!” he said. “That force that’s inside of you is what lets you to do magic. It allows you to tap into a world of pure energy called the Etheric. That’s where our magic comes from. But that power needs to be controlled. At first, only a select few had it—those you refer to as the Matriarch and the Patriarch. Then it spread to the entire world, but most didn’t have the will to control it.

  “They couldn’t tap into the Etheric energy like you can. So that desire turned into hunger, and flesh and blood were the only ways to satisfy their absolute need to get at the energy.”

  The two of them started walking again. “The Madness spread this potential throughout the world, destroying people in its wake. But from the ashes, something wonderful arose. A switch was flipped that turned that hunger from something monstrous to something wonderful. From madness to magic.”

  Ezekiel had gotten lost in his words. When he finished his speech, Hannah watched him with a look of awe on her face.

  “That’s what you figured out,” she asked, completely into his story as well.

  “Me?” He waved his hand in negation. “No. I got my switch flipped, but it was the Oracle who figured out how to do it. How to save the human race.”

  Hannah’s look of awe quickly disappeared as she rolled her eyes in annoyance. “Shit. You’re telling me that the Oracle is real, too?”

  He regarded the young woman, a frown on his face. “Of course she’s real. Why wouldn’t she be?”

  The girl shook her head. “Zeke, you’ve missed a lot while you’ve been out walking Irth. Arcadia, it’s a different place. Most of us don’t go to school to learn things. We educate ourselves on the streets. The Capitol, they like it that way. Our ignorance, our powerlessness gives them control. But you hear a lot of stories, and it’s hard to figure out what’s real and what’s a steaming pile of pig shit.”

  She breathed deeply and then continued, “My mom used to tell me about the Oracle. But I thought those stories were just like the Queen Bitch and the Bastard. Cute stories to keep us all out of trouble, or try to give us some sort of hope and meaning.”

  Ezekiel felt his face tighten with the girl’s words. He had to remind himself that there was no reason why she couldn’t understand the world as it really was.

  He spoke firmly, his conviction balanced with compassion. “Hannah! First, never speak of the Matriarch and Patriarch that way. They are as real as you and me, and they deserve—no, they command—our respect.”

  “But—” she started, an arm already flinging out.

  This time he put up his own hand. “No buts. Just hear me out. You can wrestle with what you believe later. For now, you need new information. Second, the Oracle is real and has a name, which is Lilith. And she is a very powerful creature who holds knowledge about truths so complex that even hearing them would likely scramble your brain.”

  He could see her brain firing fast as she analyzed how he described the Oracle. “Wait, creature? She’s not human?”

  The man realized there was so much the girl would have to learn. “Lilith can’t be categorized in simple ways we might understand. Someday I will show you, but now is not that time.”

  “OK, I guess, Dr. Mystery. So, back to the zombies.”

  Ezekiel nodded. “My colleagues and I followed Lilith’s instructions and were able to stop, and in some cases even reverse, the effects of the outbreak. It was an amazing and dangerous time. We lost several of the best and the bravest. But what we found is that once people stopped manifesting the disease, something else was appeared in its place.

  “The power that was within every person—the power that indiscriminately poisoned its host—was the source of magic in our world. We started to realize that it was in all of us, but the power was still dangerous. Only those who were strong enough to control the power could use it as magic. Some died trying. Others, scared of its effects, bottled the power up inside of them.”

  “Are you saying that everyone can do magic?”

  “Not quite. Everyone does have the power within them. It’s not unique to the nobles. Even back then, we didn’t make this publicly known. To try and draw on the power is very dangerous. Many people harm themselves in the process. One should only practice if they are led by a mentor—someone to teach and contain them.

  “My friends and I focused on the magic and how to use it. It was by magic that we started to heal the world. And we wanted to spread this knowledge. So, using magic, we built Arcadia.”

  “And you’re afraid that Adrien is going to tear it all down using magic?”

  Ezekiel looked at his new student. He wondered how much to tell her. How much of this world should he keep from her, to protect her? But the look on her face told him everything.

  She had been through hell already. It’s what made her strong enough to fight the devil.

  He breathed out, resigned to telling all of the truth, as much as it hurt him. “That’s precisely what is going to happen. Unless we stop him.”

  11

  Adrien shuffled through paperwork as the sun outside the giant bay window overlooking Arcadia drifted closer to the horizon. A document updating him on the progress with the magitech machine indicated that things were better, but still not up to speed. The Chief Engineer had increased their pace, but it came at a cost. Several of the men assigned to the project had burned out.

  That could easily happen when the young and inexperienced pushed their power too far. Now they were being carted to the infirmary two by two. No matter. It was a cost this city could bear. He shook his head and turned to the list of prospective students the Dean had sent him.

  He had an academy to run, after all.

  A number sat in the side margin next to the names; the projection of how many students the Academy would enroll. In reality, the more important number was the remainder; those denied access. That was the key. Deny access. Create scarcity. Elevate prestige. It made the few who were accepted eternally grateful to their Chancellor.

  Picking up his pencil, he drew a line through the number and increased it by twenty percent. What are a few more, especially when the ones you have are dropping like flies? He would need additional fodder for what was to come.

  A knock on the door interrupted his calculations. “Enter!” he called out, still considering the increase in the number of students.

  Doyle stepped in, closed the door, and walked up to the desk, waiting silently.

  Adrien looked up from his planning. “Speak, damn it. What is it?”

  Doyle glanced down, taking in the altered numbers. He cursed his bad timing. When Adrien got mad, everyone around him suffered.

  “Sir, you asked for the Hunters and Guard to be on the lookout for anyone matching the description of the magician who attacked our men. Well, I think we’ve had a hit.”

  A sinister smile spread across the Chancellor’s face. “Is that right?”

  “Yes, sir. I mean, he didn’t look like a devil-monster or whatever, but everything else seems to check out. Do you want me to send in a team of Hunters to secure the Unlawful?”

  Adrien stood up from his desk and reached back behind him. “No. I will take care of this one myself.” Before Doyle had a chance to respond, Adrien threw on his blood-red cloak and made for the door.

  The Chancellor hardly ever left the Academy, let alone traveled into the other quarters. As he made his way through the crowds, people gawked at his presence. He was a celebrity, and it was the closest that many of the commoners would get to greatness. Following the path described to him by Doyle, he wove through the dirty streets toward the heart of the market quarter.

  The smells of rotting food and other filth wafted up from the gutters. It reminded him exactly why he stayed within the walls of the Academy, and why magic would be wasted on people who lacked any sense of dignity. Turning a corner, he ran into a beggar with hands outstretched.

  “Alms, sir?”

  “Out of my way,” he said, as he drove his elbow into the old wo
man, knocking her over.

  He stood dead center in the square and rotated, looking for the man who had taught him magic. Ezekiel had given him the keys to the kingdom, and Adrien had made that kingdom great. But something told the Chancellor that his old teacher hadn’t come back from the dead to congratulate him on his progress.

  Arcadians prayed for the day when their Founder would return. Adrien intended to see to it that their prayers were in vain.

  Adrien caught a glimpse of an old man in a long brown cloak out of the corner of his eye. Just as he turned the corner to leave the square, the man glanced over his shoulder and cast a smile in Adrien’s direction.

  Ezekiel. I’ve got you, old friend.

  Adrien moved toward the man. Ten yards down the road, the man turned left and Adrien followed, walking as briskly as possible without drawing too much attention. Although Adrien was hurrying, and the old man seemed to take his time, he somehow maintained his distance.

  The Chancellor could feel his pulse rising and sweat gathering on the small of his back. Casting aside all semblance of self-control, he started to jog. At the seam where the market transitioned into Queen’s Boulevard, he turned a corner and stood face-to-face with his old mentor.

  “Hello, Adrien,” Ezekiel said. “I wondered when we would meet again. It’s been a long time. You look good. Better than you should.”

  Adrien’s stomach tied in knots. He worked to compose his breathing as he stared. “I must say the same. All this time we thought you were dead.”

  The wizard’s brow furrowed. “Sorry to disappoint. But imagine my own disappointment at returning home to learn that my trust was misplaced all along.”

  Adrien tried to turn on his charm. “Come now, Ezekiel, you have to understand. After a year we sent out parties looking for you at Eve’s urging. They scoured the corners of Irth, but here you are. Finally returning to our dear Arcadia.” He forced a smile.

  “Yes, Adrien. Wait, should I call you Chancellor?” A sneer spread under the magician’s beard.

  “Adrien is fine,” he said, wanting to wrap his fingers around the old man’s wrinkled neck.

  “Ah, then Adrien. Good to know that you were so concerned. I saw Eve. And strange that she urged you as she did so many years ago, seeing as she knew why I left and, in the end, never expected me to return from my pilgrimage.” The man paused, inspecting Adrian’s face. “And as for our city, is it really so great?”

  Ezekiel waved his arm in the direction of the squalor of Queen’s Boulevard that spread out behind him. “Look at what you have done. You’ve turned our dream into a damned nightmare. They’re people, Adrien, and they suffer under your hand.”

  Adrien sneered, keeping himself in check. “You are quite a fool, aren’t you, Ezekiel? I thought that maybe some time wandering Irth might change you, but it’s apparent that you’re as stubborn as ever. You always were the consummate idealist, and at this point I believe you will never change. Ideals are for children and idiots. We were both children once. Our dreams grew together, but one of us has evolved into a man, the other,” he looked Ezekiel up and down, “remained a fool. Yes, you can patronize me with your high-mindedness.” Adrien pointed around them both. “You can point to the lazy scum that huddle in masses in Queen Bitch Boulevard, you can groan about your precious kingdom perverted,” he slammed his fist to his chest, “by my shrewd machinations. But you know nothing of what I have built and the greatness that is Arcadia. And when everything is in place, we will be the greatest city in all of Irth and far beyond its boundaries. We’re creating a legacy here that will rival the old days. And you and your dreams will be nothing.”

  Adrien spat the last words at the old magician.

  Ezekiel narrowed his eyes and pointed at his prodigal student. “Enough. You make excuses and rationalize your works, but truly you bring only ruin. And one day the ruin,” he looked around before finishing, “will catch up with you. What plans of yours could be worth that risk?”

  Adrien shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. You will never live to see it.”

  This time it was Ezekiel’s turn to laugh. “Adrien, Adrien, Adrien. How cute! You could never beat me back then. What makes you think you can beat me now?” He raised his bushy brows, a twinkle in his eye, and waited for a response.

  Anger and rage grew inside of the Chancellor. His blood boiled and his power swelled. The new Master of Arcadia would end it right there, in an alley that probably had no name.

  “I am no longer that boy you left behind.”

  Adrien laughed more ominously than before. He drew on the passion inside of him and his hatred for the man standing before him. Adrien’s eyes turned coal black.

  Cupping his hands in front of his chest, he brought all that was within him into focus. As he spread his hands apart, a sphere of radiant blue light grew larger and larger until it blocked his view of the wizard.

  He drove every ounce of energy and intention into the ball of power, and just as he felt the last ounce of energy leave his body, he drove his arms outward and toward his old mentor.

  Adrien watched as the most magnificent magic he’d ever created passed right through Ezekiel and collided with a brick wall forty feet away. The wall exploded, sending bits of shrapnel in every direction.

  Adrien shielded his eyes, and when he looked up, the wizard was exactly where he had been a moment ago, a serene smile on his face.

  Ezekiel shook his head. “I’m sad to see I was able to teach you so little, Adrien, but there’s still time.” His smile turned to ice. “Soon I will teach you one more lesson that you won’t live long enough to forget.”

  With that, the image of Ezekiel flickered and disappeared, leaving Adrien panting and alone in the forgotten alley.

  Hannah stumbled out of her room, still rubbing the sleep from her eyes. Sal had finally woken her up and now skittered along next to her. He looked like he had gained more weight.

  “What the hell have you been eating?” she asked the lizard. He only blinked his eyes at her as she slid out of bed and into her clothes. “No, matter. I imagine the old man is ready for us.”

  The lizard obediently followed her as she left their residence and made their way down the corridor.

  Entering the great hall, she found Ezekiel sitting on a mat on the floor, back straight as a board, legs crossed. His eyes were open, but they glowed a brilliant red and stared off into the distance. She was used to the black eyes of the magicians in Arcadia, but she had never seen this before.

  She waved her hand in front of his face, but there was no response. Next to him was an empty mat with a mug holding a mysterious steaming liquid. She took the cue and sat down, pulling her legs up under her.

  Picking up the mug, she sniffed it and scrunched her nose. It smelled like dirt, if dirt could die and rot. She sipped it, and the elixir tasted almost good.

  Nothing like its odor.

  “Root tea. I learned to brew it in the Heights,” Ezekiel explained. His eyes travelled from her to the lizard sitting at her side.

  Hannah jumped at the man’s voice. His eyes had returned back to their normal steely gray.

  She looked at him over the mug as she hazarded another small sip, before replying, “Not bad, even if it smells like the ass of an orc.”

  The man laughed as he sat up. “You make it sound so appealing. The power is not in its taste, but the effects. Just keep drinking. The tea will give you extra focus, and you’re going to need focus.”

  “More history lessons?” Hannah closed her eyes and faked a yawn as she stretched. “You’re killing me, Zeke.”

  “It’s Ezekiel, and somebody will be killing you if you don’t know your history. The paths of our future have been trodden by someone else in the past. Always. However, we don’t have time to retrace all their steps. Today we start your training in physical magic.” He slowly stood. “Sit up straight.”

  Hannah cranked her shoulders back and pretended a magician’s staff ran the length of her spine. “Th
is is comfy.”

  “It will be.”

  “Sure, whatever you say, Zeke. What were you doing when I came in here anyway?” She pointed to his mat. “That didn’t look like physical magic.”

  The old man stared down at her. She read a sadness in his eyes. “I was...visiting an old friend. It went poorly. But enough of that. Today we focus on you.”

  “So are you going to teach me to call down magic or something?” She peeked at him from the corner of her eye, but the man stared at the wall across the room, unmoving.

  After a beat, he said, “You don’t call anything down. Weren’t you listening yesterday?”

  “Mostly,” she admitted. She practiced holding her breath and took a sip.

  His voice seemed to echo in her ears, and inside her mind.

  What the hell is in this tea?

  “Magic is inside of you, me, everyone. The work of the magician is not to conjure anything from outside, but to draw the power from within and direct it with intention. But it is a practice that requires complete focus. Not something for a smart ass like you.”

  She looked over and saw Ezekiel smiling.

  “OK. Focusing.” She nodded.

  “Good,” he said. “Now, magic is most easily directed when the user has a desire to change the world in some way. The deeper and stronger the desire, the more potent the magic. Remember your brother on the street? That was your magic—without you even knowing how to use it—streaming out of you to heal based on your subconscious desire. That sort of thing would have likely destroyed someone weaker than you. Most don’t have the will you possess.”

  He looked around the room and continued, “At this stage, you need training and guidance. Also, we will talk about what magic is and isn’t for.” He sat back down in front of her, his back straight.

  Her eyes were closed. “You mean, so I don’t become a douche nugget like your first student?”

  “Douche nugget? I don’t have the faintest idea what that means,” he replied.