Welcome To The Age of Magic

by C M Raymond et al.

  Karl shrugged. “Sorry, Murph. We’re headin’ back to the Heights. Cart’s empty.”

  “No shit, little man. But their coin bags are as full as my trousers.” He grabbed his crotch and gave it a shake, drawing laughter from the men, which only made his sneer grow wider.

  Karl raised a brow. “Actually, Murph, the men made more than a halfpenny for their gems, which means their bags are a good bit fuller than that near-empty space between yer legs.” Murph’s eyes narrowed as the men hooted and hollered, egging their leader on. “Now, ya take these bunch of asshats and go back to whatever hole ya crawled out of, and I won’t have to cut off yer pin dick. How about that deal?”

  Murph kept his eyes trained on Karl. “Take ‘em boys. And make it slow. I want to enjoy his screams.”

  Two men charged, swords raised high and eyes wide.

  Karl turned, advancing on the bigger one.

  As the brute cut downward, Karl side-stepped the attack and spun in from behind the hired-hand. His hammer swung with the strength of ten rearick, finding the middle of the man’s spine.

  The bandit dropped without a sound.

  Karl turned, and faced the next one, who circled him. Violence had whipped the onlookers into a frenzy. Blocking out their taunts, Karl saw nothing but the man and his sword.

  “Come on, ya little bitch,” Karl spat as he white-knuckled his war hammer. “I need to be gettin’ back to the Heights. I’m a bit thirsty.”

  “You ain’t going nowhere,” the man answered as he lunged forward, more careful than Karl’s last victim.

  The rearick knocked the attack away with his hammer, and the man pulled up and swung again, this time arcing for Karl’s skull. The rearick pulled his weapon up with both hands, intercepting the blade in mid-flight.

  The men grimaced, each trying to overpower the other. Karl was impressed with the man’s strength, but surprised to see his legs spread a bit too wide. He took his chance. With a last effort, he pushed the shaft of his hammer up, gaining some space, and kicked up between the man’s legs.

  With a groan, the bandit dropped to the ground.

  Karl finished him with a vicious downward attack.

  As blood flew, Karl felt the surge of adrenaline course through his veins. Just as he lifted his body to turn for the next man, four more were on top of him. Fist and feet and blades flying in every direction.

  Karl cursed as they gained the upper hand. He landed a few blows of his own, but couldn’t be sure if they’d done any good.

  “Scheisse!” he shouted as they pinned him to the ground.

  Murph stood over him, blade drawn. “I think I’ll have this pleasure after all, boys. Hold him still.”

  “Go screw yer ma, Murph,” Karl yelled. But he knew his words were for naught. His eyes caught the silver blade in his enemy’s hand. It was as good a tool as any to send him to the beyond.

  Murph’s eyes softened. “It’s shame, really, rearick. I always liked you, though you’ve never been good for business. I’ll miss our little tiffs. Honest, I will.” And then, like a storm rushing in from the west, his face turned hard. “But it’s time for you to go to hell.”

  He raised the dagger.

  Karl stared him in the eyes, unblinking. He had prepared all of his life for death, he would face it with courage.

  Just before the silver blade fell, a glorious white light exploded behind the bandit.

  “It’s a new day,” a voice bellowed, followed by the flash of a brilliant blue ray.

  The energy found its target, square on the back of Karl’s assailant, and the man’s corpse dropped, covering the rearick.

  At once, shouts rang out, and Karl felt the weight of their hands release him.

  Karl pushed Murph’s body off of him and spun to his feet to see the damnedest thing.

  An old man in robes of white and hair to match, whirled in tight arcs, throwing magic and swinging a wooden staff at the remaining marauders. Screams of pain and terror filled the forest as Karl—out of reverence or fear—took a knee and watched as his savior decimated the foe.

  The last man standing lunged for the robed man. He was fast, but the mage was faster still. Grabbing the thug by the throat, the old man lifted him and glared with flaming red eyes.

  “This land, Irth, is not yours. And you and your kind will no longer do your evil here.”

  The bandit’s body shook like a leaf.

  Dropping him to the ground, the old man stood over his victim and raised an arm, his palm up toward the heavens. Eyes flaming brighter red, a spear of stone, which shined like onyx from the depths of the Heights, appeared in his hand.

  Murph’s man slunk back, knowing any inch was a distance measured out in futility.

  Placing the point of the spear on the man’s throat, the magician said, “Today I let you go, not as an act of mercy, but as a feat of utility. Walk these lands, from now until the day you expire. Let every soul know that the Founder has returned to bring justice to Irth.” He pushed harder on the spear, drawing a dot of blood from the man’s neck.

  Tears welled in the bandit’s eyes, a wet stain marked his pants. He nodded, and then crawled to his knees before standing on weak legs. He took one look at Karl, and then sprinted off into the woods.

  The magician turned to Karl, who dropped his hammer and raised his hands. If he knew anything, it was that he was outmatched. “Scheisse, old man…that was one helluva show.”

  His eyes turned to a steel gray, and his shoulders slumped. “You’re unharmed?”

  “Unharmed and damned impressed. Haven’t seen moves like them since…well…ever.” Karl reached out his meaty hand and the magician took it in his. “It’s Karl.”

  The man nodded. “Ezekiel.”

  Karl’s legs quivered. He knew he had eluded death—again. “Thank ya, Ezekiel. I owe ya me life. I’m indebted.”

  The old man gave him a thin-lipped smile. “Believe me, I’m the one paying the debt. This is the way the world is supposed to be. And one day, it will be so. Justice will reign, and evil will be no more.”

  Karl laughed. “Hell, right now, I just want a steak and a cold ale, but…ok.” He let go of Ezekiel’s hand and took a step back. “That Founder bit, it was a nice touch. Really put the fear of the gods in ‘em.”

  The old man raised his brows. “Who is to say I am not, rearick?”

  Before he could answer, the man disappeared in a flash of light and crack of thunder.

  “Tell me, what do you know about mental magic?”

  Ezekiel looked down at Hannah as he opened another room. Her training had been going well. Each day she spent time meditating by the river. Her progress there convinced Ezekiel that she would surpass him in nature magic one day.

  Her work with physical magic was equally impressive, although she lacked any sort of finesse. For Hannah, it was all rage. But rage was as good a starting place as any.

  Now, after weeks of training, Ezekiel had finally reached the decision to begin work on the third form.

  “Not much. Only that it’s what the mystics study,” Hannah said confidently as they walked into the training room. This one, like the others, was mostly empty. There was a series of mirrors around the edges, all pointed toward the middle.

  Hannah instinctively pushed her hair back as she saw her image. She knew others thought she was pretty; enough boys had said so since she was a kid. But just in the few days she had been at the tower studying magic something had changed. She could recognize a difference in herself. She looked more mature, more…something; she couldn’t quite place it.

  She was turning from a girl into a woman. Tapping into the power within was somehow changing her on the outside as well.

  “Very good. And what do you know about the mystics?” he asked.

  “Well, unlike druids, they actually come to Arcadia,” Hannah said. “Though they don’t stay long. No matter where I am within the city walls, I can usually find one of those freaks walking around. My mother always told me
to stay away from them or they would make me do things for them, like rob the Arcadian Trust or something.”

  The old man stared at her a moment and then laughed, wiping at his eyes. “They probably could have, but they wouldn’t. They are a gentle community at heart. And yes, their chosen path has made them an odd bunch. Or maybe it was their quirkiness that led them to the study. Regardless, despite the fear that Arcadians feel toward the mystics, they rarely use their power for violence.” Ezekiel paused. “But it can be quite violent if one has the need.”

  Hannah nodded. A strange image came to her mind. “Your little demon trick in the alley?”

  “Indeed. Mental magic. How did it work?”

  “Hell if I know. I’m just the student, remember?”

  “Sure, but you are a student with a brain. So…”

  Hannah rubbed the back of her neck with her palm as she nibbled on her lip, thinking about the question.

  Over the days in the tower she had become more comfortable with Ezekiel, and she was glad for it. It was obvious that her powers impressed him, which nurtured her confidence. But when he asked these questions her body tightened up. She didn’t want to be wrong, and she wanted to make him proud.

  Finally, she said, “With physical magic, we manipulate the world outside of us. Nature magic communes with and influences the natural world; living matter and other things. I can only assume that mental magic can alter the way others think. So, in the alley that day, I thought that you were actually some sort of deranged monster. At my house, when we met, I had decided that you somehow transformed, made yourself into a literal monster. But if it was mental magic…” she paused a moment, considering her next words carefully.

  “Yes?” He asked, tapping his foot impatiently.

  She looked at him. “You never changed at all. It was me and those douchers who changed. You actually altered the way we thought.”

  He winked at her. “Excellent. And that is the key to this form of magic. It is like nature magic, but a little more, well, questionable.”

  “Because you’re screwing with people’s minds.”

  “Yes, you could say that. And as you can see, it is the form of magic with the greatest potential for evil. Thankfully, those mad for power tend to prefer the easy work of physical magic. Mental magic requires a patience that tends to weed out evil intentions, making mental magic the rarest of the magical arts and generally the cleanest.”

  “Can’t imagine what those bastards in Arcadia would do if they had that kind of power,” Hannah said. “They could really mess people up.”

  Ezekiel nodded. “Indeed. Thankfully they are, by nature, recluses. Not to mention, their philosophy of life is bent toward detachment from our world for the sake of transcendence. They believe in a heaven that is right up here.” He tapped his temple. “If it were up to them, they would stay in their mountain temple in the Heights. They make their pilgrimages into Arcadia and other cities as a way to stay connected with other men and women. A way to keep their minds connected to non-mystics.

  “And that is, of course, also why they all drink so much. Traveling into the minds of other humans can be a very disturbing thing, not to mention that getting into a human’s mind is far harder than calling on a bird to land on your finger or moving a rock. The power of suggestion is potent, but you need to burrow through any walls that might be in place. I trained the mystics on how to also manipulate their own minds to keep others out.”

  “OK,” Hannah said. “So they can make me see monsters. What else?”

  “Like all the other arts, the sky’s the limit. The best of them can do all kinds of things.” Ezekiel started walking around the room, the mirrors reflecting him in the mirrors on the other side; it became an almost overpowering amount of Ezekiel for Hannah.

  He started making gestures with his hands as he talked.

  “They are illusionists, able to create worlds with their words. But they can also use their powers to subvert the will of others. Force the minds of others into their service. They can convince the best spies to spill sworn secrets and the bravest men to quake in fear. But most mystics are pacifists and use their gifts for these things in only the direst of times. They prefer to enjoy their lives, telling stories and brightening the world around them. They also can communicate telepathically and even project their consciousness to see far parts of the universe.”

  Hannah, who had closed her eyes to stop seeing Ezekiel in the mirrors, opened them wide. “Whoa. Mind travel? That’s pretty bad-ass,” she said. “So now what? Am I going to mess with your head?”

  He stopped his pacing and looked at her. “Not a chance that I’m letting you inside my noggin’.” He tapped his skull. “It’s far too dangerous a place.” He winked at Hannah. She smiled, but wondered how much of the comment was a joke. “You’re going to work on yourself.”

  Her face scrunched, not understanding. “What good will that do? I don’t want to brainwash myself.”

  Ezekiel smiled. “To know thyself is an honorable thing. You might just be surprised what a little self-brainwashing can do for you.”

  Ezekiel gave her basic instructions on how to focus and direct her powers toward her own mind. She was to stand in front of the mirror and persuade herself that her skin was completely blue—head to toe. He told her that mystics were the only magicians who actually utilized words, which most people thought of as spells, to focus the energy within.

  “For this spell,” he said, “you will repeat the words ego sum hyacintho.”

  The girl spoke the words over and over. “What does it mean?” she asked, once she had the words down.

  “Doesn’t matter,” Ezekiel said. “Remember, magic doesn’t work as most think. Like the hand motions, the words are only a tool to focus you. They could be gibberish. In fact, they are, until I tell you their meaning. But if I never told you, they would still work.”

  She looked at him. “You can be an Arcadia-sized ass sometimes, Z.”

  Ezekiel laughed. “Must come naturally, because I make no attempt at assery. And that phrase just means ‘I am blue,’ words from a tongue lost long before the Age of Madness. Now, enough questions. Time for work. Repeat the words, focusing on their texture and cadence. Let’s see what your mind is capable of.”

  Ezekiel closed the door behind him, leaving Hannah alone with herself. She felt more than a little absurd—and naturally so. Saying the foreign words over and over while trying to convince herself she was blue made her feel like a fool. At one point, she wondered if Ezekiel was playing her—if the mental magic trick was some sort of magician hazing. But she tried as hard as she could to focus. The thought of scaring the hell out of Adrien’s men made it worthwhile.

  It took over two hours of practice, but finally she opened her eyes and the person staring back at her in the mirror looked exactly like Hannah, except for two slight differences. Her eyes had turned bright red, and her skin had taken on a light shade of blue.

  At first, she thought it was some trick of lighting, or maybe the hours of intense concentration had broken her mind. But she moved closer to the light and examined her skin; there was no doubt that it was, in fact, blue.

  She screamed in joy, and the old man came right in, as if he were waiting just outside the door.

  “So, did you do it?” he asked her.

  “See for yourself!” Hannah waved her hand in front of his face, her smile huge.

  He raised an eyebrow. “You weren’t enchanting me, Hannah. You were trying to convince yourself. Subverting the minds of others takes more than two hours of practice.”

  “Oh,” Hannah said. She thought for a second. “Then yes, it worked. I’m as blue as the sky.”

  Ezekiel smiled, then his eyes flashed red. “You are certainly a little bluer, but I’d say you look more a sickly blue than sky blue.”

  Her eyebrows came together. “Hey, I thought you said you couldn’t see it?”

  “You weren’t the only one who was practicing their mental ma
gic. I peered into your mind and saw that you were only giving me a half-truth. And a half-assed half-truth at that.” Despite his rebuke, his face looked gentler than ever. “Nice work.”

  Hannah beamed. “Turning myself blue is one thing. Reading minds, now that’s a pretty cool trick.”

  Ezekiel held up his hand. “It’s magic, Hannah. Tricks are what you and your friend Parker used to do for money. This is something entirely different. We,” he gestured between the two of them, “create magic.”

  “Yeah, whatever. But if I got really good at this, how far could I take it? Could I disguise myself as another person? Could I just make myself look like your boy Adrien and walk through the front gates of the Academy?”

  “Disguising yourself is one thing. Making yourself look exactly like another being is damn near impossible. Too many details. Too many people to influence. Remember, the entire ruse is a suggestion. You’d have to convince a helluva lot of people. I’ve tried and failed many times before. The demon in the alley is about the extent of my image magic. But there was this one magician…”

  This time, she rolled her eyes. “Let me guess, your pupil?”

  He shrugged. “Of course. And this pupil surpassed the Master in the mystic arts. And maybe you will do so as well one day. We’d better take a break for now. It’s dangerous to continue until you regain some of your energy.”

  It wasn’t until he mentioned resting that Hannah realized just how tired she was. The hours of repetitive practice exhausted her strength and the focus sapped her will. They left the room, and she reclined on a couch in the great hall with Sal curled up in her lap. Ezekiel brought out plates of meat and vegetables and placed a goblet of strong wine in her hand.

  “Tonight we celebrate. You have taken steps in all three of the primary magical arts.” He winked. “The Founder himself would say this is a great occasion.”

  The man was downright gleeful, and he took a large sip of his wine as if to prove the point. As Hannah picked up her glass, she looked into the deep red of the wine and an idea struck her.

  “Zeke,” she asked as he sat across from her, “the eyes of the magic users in Arcadia turn coal black when they do magic. But your eyes turn crimson. Today, when I convinced myself I had blue skin, my eyes were red as well. Why is that?”