Ezekiel took another large sip of his drink, but the smile never faded from his face. “You really are perceptive. Tell me, how many magic users in Irth can practice all three forms of magic? I told you before that it was rare, but I didn’t tell you how rare. Can you guess?”
Hannah shook her head. Instead of answering, she stuffed her mouth full of a piece of cooked meat.
“I’ll tell you. Now, let me see,” Ezekiel said, raising his fingers as if he were doing some sort of advanced calculation, pointing to one hand, and counting on the other as he looked up to the ceiling. “As best as I can tell, there are only two who practice all the forms. Me,” he looked at her as he lifted his glass and gestured to her, “and now you.”
Hannah nearly choked on her food. She knew that Ezekiel would push her to do great things, but being in a category with her teacher was beyond her wildest dreams.
Ezekiel laughed when he saw her reaction. “Don’t get a big head over it. You know virtually nothing in all three of them. A master of any would certainly wipe the floor with your inexperienced ass.”
Hannah laughed at his vulgar tongue. It was something she had seldom heard from the old man. “Why don’t more do it?” she finally asked, cutting another bite.
“As I said before, there are risks associated with using magic, especially when you lack a teacher as experienced as I am. But when I was first starting out, I wasn’t nearly as experienced as I am now. My students found it easier to focus on only one branch, the branch that came most naturally to them. And I allowed it, since it meant there was less of a threat to their well-being.
“Over time they became more and more entrenched in their disciplines, and it became nearly impossible to branch out. Then they separated themselves in terms of geography and culture. Why, I’m not at all surprised to see that my magical offspring have become such rigid specialists.”
She shook her head and took a sip of her wine before continuing. “But that still doesn’t answer my question about our red eyes.”
“The power that is inside of us, that is in our blood, colors our eyes when we use it to tap into the Etheric. You and I, since we practice all three forms, have a purer connection to that realm. The color of our eyes reflects that. Our red eyes are as unique as our ability to use all three. But I imagine, once people see what you and I can accomplish and the possibilities, the old walls between these types of magic will break down.
“Combinations of magic are powerful and, perhaps more importantly, unpredictable. They allow for a creativity that can give you a distinct edge in all of your endeavors. In the alley, for example, I combined nature and physical magic together.”
Hannah thought back to that day. “The lightning bolt.”
“Precisely. My connection to nature allowed me to summon a storm, but it was my skill with physical magic that allowed me to channel that power into a precise attack. I was also doing mental magic, but it was a separate casting, not mixed in. Imagine when you master the three together. You’ll be unstoppable.”
“How do you know I will?” she asked.
“Because I saw you do it. Without even trying, without even knowing you had magic within, you combined all three.”
She looked down at Sal, who was curled up at her feet. “You’re talking about him.”
The master magician nodded. “That’s right. I have seen physical users turn glass into steel, and fields flourish at the behest of a druid. I’ve experienced mystics coloring the skies for miles. But to change a living thing, to transform it into a different living thing—that is a blend of magic I have never seen in all my years, Hannah. Your lizard isn’t just a larger version of the newts common to this area. He is a fundamentally different creature.
“Nature magic allows us to shape life, to reawaken its potential. But you cannot create life where there was none previously. To steal from an old phrase, you can heal a tiger, but you cannot change its stripes. The mystics could do what you do, but only in the mind, only as an illusion. The change would not be permanent.
“Physical magic users can, of course, change things at a fundamental level and make that change permanent, but their power runs into a strict barrier when it comes to the living, organic world.
“When you transmogrified that creature, it’s as if you pulled all three at once. And it’s one of the reasons why I chose you. I won’t bullshit you. This fight that I’ve pulled you into won’t be easy. Adrien’s forces of evil are great. To win, we will need to change the game. We will need new magic and new sources of strength, and even then, it may not be enough. But I believe that with someone like you, with your heart, we may just be able to pull it off.”
14
Adrien drummed his fingers on the arm of the overstuffed, leather chair as he looked down on Arcadia. Just days ago, everything he’d created had seemed so powerful, indestructible. And now, with the return of the Founder, he felt uncertain for the first time.
For days after his meeting with his old mentor he had fumed over the man’s return, angry himself for not being more cautious. Hubris had gotten the better of him; he hadn’t seen a need to prepare for Ezekiel’s return.
But the old man had returned.
As the days since their encounter passed, time built perspective and Adrien’s anger turned to fear. The old man’s trick was telling. Ezekiel had learned much during his time away.
The illusion he had created to fool Adrien wasn’t magic known to the people of Arcadia. Theirs was physical magic, comprised of the study of material things and their manipulation. They were masters of it, and they passed it on to the next generation through the Academy.
He knew that the study of particular arts wasn’t exclusive to Arcadians, but went beyond their walls to the farthest reaches of Irth. Regions and communities were specialists in different types of magic, though they all gained power from the same Etheric source. But magic was a difficult maiden to serve.
Magicians were fortunate enough to have the capacities and faculties to manage the power within. The notion that one could work in other specialties had always been inconceivable to everyone except Ezekiel.
When Ezekiel left on his mission he had already been talented in all three arts, though he excelled only at physical magic. But the image that Adrien had conversed with—and ultimately tried to kill—in Queen’s Boulevard was evidence of the fact that his teacher had been busy since he’d been gone.
Casting one’s image wasn’t part of the physical arts, but the psychic. While a Master Magician might easily pick up a few cheap tricks from another art, image-casting to the degree that Ezekiel had accomplished was no small task. It would have taken someone with an elevated level of mastery in mental magic to pull off the ruse.
And that was precisely what scared Adrien to death.
The Chancellor was strong and confident in his own mastery. But in the face of one who could navigate multiple styles, maybe the physical wouldn’t be enough. And if Ezekiel had spent the last decades honing these other crafts? The thought was terrifying.
But it also gave Adrien an idea.
“Doyle,” Adrien shouted toward his closed door.
The door swung open, and his assistant strode into the room. Doyle glanced at the chair, wondering if he should sit, and then thought better of it. “What can I do for you, Chancellor?”
“The magician, has he been spotted today?” Adrien knew the futility of his question. Ezekiel would only be found if he wanted to be. And that would mean that the magician was ready for the fight.
“No, sir. Nothing. Our men have been on watch 24/7 and the guardsmen are still on the hunt, but there’s nothing. No magician. No trail.”
“We may be looking in the wrong place,” Adrien said. “I need a crew, not a large one. But it requires men we can trust, who can handle themselves outside of the city walls. Can you get such a group together?”
Doyle smiled, happy to be useful for once. “Of course, sir. I have a small band of resources at hand for a task
such as this. Stellan and his men. They’re trained for the very thing and remain off the official ledgers in the Capitol. You never know when you’ll need a secret operation.”
“Yes, quite good, Doyle.”
Adrien explained to Doyle what he surmised from his encounter with Ezekiel’s image and explained that if Ezekiel had improved upon his skill with the mystic arts, then it was possible the teacher had been a student.
“Now,” Adrien said, “the only ones capable of mental magic to that degree are the mystics. Which means that Ezekiel may have spent time with the bastards. There’s a good chance that Ezekiel persuaded them to be of some, well, assistance toward his ends. And those monastic sons of bitches are just as idealistic as the old man.”
“Yes, sir. They could be trouble.” Doyle cleared his throat. “If I may be so bold, what if we launched something more aggressive on the Heights? Maybe it is time to test the machine?”
Adrien waved his hand. “Only a schoolboy runs in swinging, Doyle. We are looking for something just a bit more elegant. I need you to send the men to keep an eye on the navel-gazers and bring back some information. They can be rough, if necessary, but I don’t want our men starting a war. Understood?”
“Completely.”
Adrien narrowed his eyes. “Can I trust this Stellan not to screw up?”
“I’d trust him with my life, sir.”
Adrien nodded. “OK, but this mission is worth far more than your life, Doyle. You might be giving yourself a bit too much credit.”
Doyle flushed. “Um, yes, sir. I’m sure I am.”
Laughing, Adrien said, “I’m screwing with you, son. Now, leave me and get those men to work. I want a report in no more than ten days.”
Alone again with his thoughts, Adrien turned back to consider how in the name of the Matriarch he might be able to draw Ezekiel out into the open. He knew the collective power within the Academy was great; far greater than what Ezekiel could have acquired even if he had studied for a century. He was only one man, after all. And the old man couldn’t know much at all about the magitech and machine being built in Arcadia’s factory. But Ezekiel wasn’t stupid either. If he were planning an assault, he’d be looking for stronger allies than the mystics.
Then it struck him. “The girl!” the Chancellor said aloud into his lonely chamber.
Among the few reports he had of the man, the only one that resonated with Adrien was the girl from Queen’s Boulevard. Something was there, but Adrien couldn’t put his finger on it. There must have been something unusual about the girl for Ezekiel expose his presence.
As he looked at his finely crafted marble chess set across the room, he realized that she might just be the pawn. Figure out how to move her—or the ones that she loved—and he might coerce the magician to do exactly what he wanted.
He called Doyle back in and sent him off with another plan to expose the pawn from Queen Bitch Boulevard.
Hannah opened her eyes, ending her meditation session. It had been an hour—at least she was pretty sure—but it felt like five minutes. Hours of work centering herself at the beginning of each day was turning her into a freaking monk, but the results were uncanny.
She had always thought mastery of magic was about learning the right moves, or spells, or shaping the right magitech weapons. But the old man was right.
She made the fastest advances—and recovered most quickly—when she paid attention to her inner self. Holding a finger up to the old man, she placed her middle finger on the opposite wrist and waited for a pulse. The tiny thumping under her skin was steady and slow. Hannah was pretty sure that with more practice, she might be able to make the damn blood stop pumping altogether.
Turning to Ezekiel, she said, “Still thumping, Zeke. But barely.”
“Good. Nothing is more important than what is in here.” He placed his finger on her chest over her heart. “Control that and you control everything.”
Hannah nodded. “But before, you talked about unleashing passion. What about the day when my brother almost died? My heart was sure as hell racing then.”
“It was. And you’re one lucky son of a bitch that the power inside of you didn’t burn you right up.”
“Bitch. Not son of a bitch. Like the Matriarch.” She winked at the old man. They still hadn’t talked about the Matriarch and the Patriarch much, though he was clearly a true believer. Hell, he was old enough that he might have known them.
There would be time for religion, but right now training took center stage. He made comments about the deities often enough and used their names frequently, not in vain, like her and the others in the Boulevard.
But otherwise, he didn’t become religiously intrusive—which was refreshing since she had expected him to be as aggressive as the Prophet. The one thing she did know was that, according to Ezekiel, the Prophet had it all wrong concerning the use of magic by the public. Magical arts weren’t meant to be restricted to the wealthy. Anyone who could control it should be given a chance.
She followed Ezekiel down the steps leading from their tower toward the woods. It was nature magic day, there was no doubt about it. He wanted to make sure she didn’t progress in one art faster than the others, so he had kept her on a careful schedule since her initial training.
One day for each art.
Her training sessions were measured by skills, not time. The man had a careful curriculum marked out, and he kept her within the boundaries he had defined. Ezekiel had told her that if one art developed faster than the others there would be a chance that she wouldn’t become a polymage, which was the primary goal.
The old man had learned much from the Oracle during his own training.
He’d learned this lesson through negative experience. His physical magic skills were more advanced than the others. Ezekiel’s magical default was nearly always physical, though he could call up the others with great intention. Hannah would be stronger than her master, if he had anything to say about it.
When it came to which art she would perform when the pressure was on, he wanted her answer to be “yes.”
Every damned one of them.
“What’s up today?” she asked as they neared the edge of the woods. “Talking with trees?”
“Nope.”
“Water sculptures?”
“No."
“Bestiality?”
“Hannah, please!” The old man had his limits regarding her cruder nature. She knew it, and loved pushing his boundaries. “None of the above. Your skills are advancing quickly. It is time to take the next step into new magic.”
Looking down at Sal, she knew Ezekiel was talking about something like the transformation of the lizard, but she couldn’t imagine what.
She had known this time was coming, but she hadn’t been looking forward to it. How the lizard was transformed into a…whatever he was remained a mystery, and if the old man wanted her to replicate the task, Hannah wasn’t sure she was up for the challenge.
It’s not like she hadn’t considered it herself. She even tried, without Ezekiel knowing, to transform an ant. The damn thing had just kept walking away.
They got to their spot by the river and sat on the rocks. She was happy to be sitting in the warmth of the sun. The days they spent in the training rooms of the tower wore on her. No matter how hot it got outside, the place was always cold, damp, and reeked of mildew.
She watched the river, sitting with his silence. Meditation was progressing, but all the damned waiting for her mentor to speak was getting old.
“Yep. It’s still right here,” she quipped, looking at the River Wren. “Freaking love it. Want me to stop it or something?”
After more silence, the old man finally said, “I want you to change Sal.”
She and Sal exchanged glances. His tongue lashed in and out of his mouth. Ezekiel had never called him by name before, which was odd. “The lizard?”
“He’s not a lizard, Hannah. What once was, is no longer. You changed him. The entity you
first encountered in the market is a different being now.”
“Um, OK. What the hell do you want me to do to him?”
He shrugged. “That’s not up to me. It’s between the two of you. I don’t have a connection with your friend. To me, he is just another creature. Once you bound yourself to Sal, the possibility of me connecting with him became, well, impossible, as far as I know. The two of you are connected through a solid covenant that will not easily be broken or subverted.”
“All right.” She looked down at Sal and inspected the spikes protruding from his vertebrae. Hannah wasn’t sure, but she thought they had grown slightly since the day she took him in.
She imagined what else she might do to him. Make him grow? Change his color? Give him opposable thumbs? None of it seemed right. She locked eyes with the creature, trying to read his thoughts.
Then it came to her; the perfect image of what Sal was to become.
“I think I’ve got it—in my mind. Now, what do I do?” she asked, keeping the image primary.
Ezekiel gave her a gentle smile. “I haven’t the slightest idea. This is your magic, not mine. We’re in novel territory here.”
“Not. Very. Helpful.”
“Like all magic, it is a matter of focus. Focus on the image inside of you. Maybe that will work?”
She snorted. “OK, but if something goes wrong, and I start growing spikes, please stop me.”
Hannah closed her eyes and began. She pushed Ezekiel, the sound of the River Wren, and even Sal out of her mind as she found her center. Everything faded into the background, and all that remained was her and the power flowing through her body.
For a moment, a doubt that she could make it happen crept in, but then she set the doubt aside as well. Hannah was a magician. Her mentor had told her that as far as he knew, she had done something no one else had ever accomplished. She reminded herself of this several times, building her confidence along the way.
Welcome To The Age of Magic Page 16