Welcome To The Age of Magic

by C M Raymond et al.

  It tilted its head back to Parker, then back to her.

  “Guess we’re the easy prey,” she said to Sal, who had wedged himself between her legs. “Now’s the time for you to learn fire-breathing. Think you can do that?” He looked up at her and blinked twice. “Yeah, didn’t think so.”

  Holding her hands up, she said, “We don’t mean you any harm.”

  The lycanthrope let out a howl and bolted in her direction. Its humanoid form—man and wolf grotesquely blended, with slavering jaws and reaching claws—was truly terrifying.

  “Shit,” she yelled. Scooping up Sal, she made a break for the tower.

  The lycanthrope was swift. There was no way she was going to make it before she was overtaken by the beast. She cursed herself for falling into this position again, but something told her Karl wasn’t going to turn up this time. So she changed tactics.

  Hannah turned downhill, taking advantage of the slope that ran into the woods to the north. Maybe she could lose the killer animal among the trees. She into the old growth and found a thick patch of underbrush.

  “Come on, Sal,” she panted.

  Pushing through the thicket, she burst into the open and found herself stumbling into the Wren.

  “Shit burger,” she cursed, as she realized she had miscalculated her trajectory.

  The beast cut through the thicket just behind her. His mouth was curled up in a snarl, baring yellow teeth made for shredding flesh.

  Hannah shifted Sal into her right arm and tossed him into the air in the direction of the closest tree. “Time to learn to fly, Sal.”

  Flapping his wings like a wounded bird, the tiny dragon made it to a branch just out of reach of the lycanthrope. Hannah exhaled, knowing that at least one of them would be safe. It suddenly struck her as odd that her end might come, not in an act of avenging the evils done in her city, but in the jaws of a storybook animal.

  “Just you and me, you mangy shit.” She pulled the knife from her belt as the beast crouched for attack.

  It leaped, and Hannah willed whatever power she could gather through splayed fingers. The beast struck a wall of energy just before it reached her, but Hannah’s shield wasn’t enough to stop it, even if it did throw the creature off balance.

  The lycanthrope spun, hair, legs, arms, and tail in every direction. Hannah dodged, and the animal flew over her, only to land in the river. Unfortunately he landed in the shallows. Hannah turned to face him. Running was futile. She knew the creature could outlast her if she did.

  Spreading her legs to shoulder-width, she spun her arms across her chest and drew fire from deep within. As the lycanthrope pulled itself from the water, she launched two balls of flame at it. Sizzling filled the air, accompanied by the smell of burning hair. The thing screamed, but continued to advance. She didn’t have much left. It bore down on her, and she raised the rearick’s knife in defense.

  The lycanthrope circled her, a predator with its prey. Before it could strike, a rock the size of its head slammed into the beast.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Parker screamed as he broke through the thicket. “Get out of here.”

  “And let you have all the fun?”

  “That’s my girl.” He grinned.

  “I ain’t nobody’s girl,” she called back. “But I’m about to make this thing my bitch.”

  She slashed at the dazed creature, slicing a line down the center of its chest. Screams spread over the river. It swiped a clawed paw at her, gaining purchase on her shoulder. Lines of anguish followed the razor-sharp weapons of the lycanthrope. Hannah could feel warm blood flowing down her arm.

  It took another swing. This time Hannah was expecting it. She ducked and rolled to safety. Parker volleyed rock after rock at the wolfman. His throwing arm was better than his juggling, and he landed several with perfect aim.

  Letting out something between an animal's roar and the battle cry of a warrior, it rushed Parker, batting away rocks as it charged.

  Hannah pushed everything out of her mind and reached for a peaceful state. Then she let go, brought back the fear and let it swell under her skin. With eyes glowing brighter red than they ever had before, she screamed as she launched every ounce of power she could muster at the beast. Light shot from her fingers and struck the lycanthrope, flipping it ass over teakettle. It landed hard in the dirt at Parker’s feet.

  Her partner was ready.

  He raised a giant rock over his head. With perfect aim, Parker brought it down with all the force he could muster on the creature's skull. The sound of shattering bone filled Hannah’s ears.

  Parker, not wanting to chance it, brought the rock down again, spreading the lycanthrope’s head all over the shore of the river. Finally, when there was nothing left of it, Parker collapsed on the sand at the water’s edge.

  “Parker,” Hannah screamed as she ran in his direction. She pulled him into an embrace. Pulling back, she held his face in her hands. “Holy shit. You good?”

  “I’m pretty good. But did I see you throwing fireballs?”

  Hannah couldn’t help but laugh. “Not bad, right? Guess we made him our bitch.”

  17

  It took several exhausting jumps for Ezekiel to head south toward the temple of the mystics. Transporting took a lot out of a magic user, and even one as skilled as Ezekiel couldn’t cross too great a distance without taking breaks. But the long journey had paid off, and after one final jump, Ezekiel appeared in the heart of the Heights, the large mountain range making up the border south of Arcadia.

  Steadying himself with his staff, Ezekiel got his footing on a rocky ledge. Once steady, he sat down on a boulder. Just above the tree line, he had a perfect vantage point of the temple.

  He had chosen the right spot. He had used this one years ago, the last time he had been to the Heights. Pulling his cloak around him, he took in the view.

  The sun was dipping below the front range. Its peaks, still snowcapped despite the heat of the summer, were turning red, blue, and purple. The Matriarch and Patriarch were painting an amazing welcome in the sky for the old magician.

  He gazed further into the distance and saw range after range spread out behind the first. Although he’d spent plenty of time in the Heights, the view never disappointed. With a landscape as majestic as this, it was no wonder that the mystics were the masters of mental magic and had all but perfected meditation. But their art was not without its effects on them.

  Residents of the Heights, while physically present on Irth, weren’t always fully there. They were known for their aloof nature and the way they softened the effects of their mental gymnastics with strong drink.

  The jump had taken its toll, so he spent some time drawing strength as he focused on his heart rate. The monastery wasn’t far, but it was better to go in strong. There was no telling what waited for him. After recovering sufficiently, he got to his feet and started the short rocky trek to the home of his old friends.

  It had been decades since he’d last visited, but he remembered every turn of the path. Holding his breath, he made the final climb and then stood before the towering temple of the mystics.

  The building was large. Simple by design, it was built with a welcoming air. The pale walls were like a blank canvas for the mystics to paint upon. Ezekiel knew that beyond this first building lay a sprawling compound of gardens, residences, and training grounds.

  He nervously paused at the door. An image of Adrien rushed through his mind. One of his students had already fallen—the one he never expected to turn to self-aggrandizement and the manipulation of the weak. Fear that the same may have happened to his pupil in the Heights struck him like a rearick’s war hammer to the chest.

  But he needed to know.

  Pushing the fear out of his mind, he tapped the end of his staff on the tall oak doors and waited for a response. It didn’t come quickly, but that wasn’t a surprise.

  Dwellers of the temple had a different conception of time than the lowlanders who dwelt in the ci
ties and woodlands of Irth. Just as Ezekiel and Hannah could lose time in meditative states, so did the mystics. But their meditations had become an almost constant state of being. For them, meditation was as commonplace as breathing for the rest of the world.

  Just as he moved to knock a second time, the door eased open. A man a quarter of Ezekiel’s age, with a narrow face, and even narrower nose, stood in simple robes much like his own, except the mystic’s were pristine, unworn by travel in the world beyond the monastery walls.

  The man stepped aside and tilted his head towards the inside as an invitation to their hospitality. Ezekiel nodded, smiled, and stepped into a grand entry that lifted into a vaulted ceiling designed to draw the eye toward the heavens. He stood just inside the door and waited.

  The man simply stared at Ezekiel, and he wondered if his host had taken a vow of silence, a practice not altogether uncommon for the mystics as they plumbed the depths of the human mind.

  Finally, he spoke, “Ezekiel, you are most welcome to the home of the mystics of Irth. We have been expecting you.” A serene smile spread across his lips, and Ezekiel wondered if he was the worse for drink.

  Ezekiel, who was capable in mental magic to a certain extent, knew the dangers of the art. It had its own consequences on its users. Traveling the earth through astral projection and stepping into the minds of others wasn’t an easy task, nor a clean one.

  “Thank you, brother. It has been a long time since I have come to the Heights. It looks as though the community has endured these years well.”

  The man nodded. “Few make the trip to the Heights. Anyone attempting the journey is not here for harm, but for help. It makes life on Irth a dream.”

  Ezekiel smiled and wondered if that dream would always last. “Indeed. I am here to talk with the Master. Unfortunately, not all of Irth experiences the peace of the Heights, and I am going to need some guidance from the one I trained years ago.”

  “Follow me. I will talk with the Master and confirm a meeting, but I know you must be tired. I hear that jumping from the lowlands takes its toll even on one as talented as you. Let me show you your room. I will have one of the initiates bring food and drink.”

  “Just tea for me.” Ezekiel knew that the elixir they made in the lower levels was the best in all the land, and he would be happy to imbibe after his meeting, but he needed to keep his head clear and his intuition sharp for the meeting to come. The strong alcohol was good for sleeping, but he had not come to the Heights for rest.

  The man nodded and showed Ezekiel his room.

  Alone in the chamber, he picked at the plate of food provided by a child no older than fourteen. The kid said nothing as he placed the tray on Ezekiel’s table.

  At his age, the child had already begun training. The mystics started earlier than the Arcadians, which was one source of their power. Paired with the seclusion of their mountain paradise, the early education made the young ones powerful much sooner than their lowlands counterparts.

  Ezekiel’s energy returned as his stomach filled. Pouring a mug of piping hot tea, he slumped in a chair in front of the fireplace. Its flames danced, lulling him into deep thought.

  The magician’s mind dwelt on the edge between waking and sleeping as he thought of his newest student.

  Hannah had something in her that was different than all the others. Maybe even different than Adrien. Ezekiel’s advantage was his diligence.

  Hannah’s was her spirit.

  There was something about her that made her energy more pure and powerful than his would ever be. He wished that he could talk with the Oracle about Hannah. Lilith would certainly untangle the mystery of the woman’s power.

  But there wasn’t time for that journey, and he hoped that the Master Mystic might have some answers to his questions. They were not only powerful but knowledgeable people.

  His mind passed from his newest pupil to his oldest. As a boy, Adrien had been different from the others. Ezekiel had attributed his morose attitude and cynical view to that fact that he was an orphan who did whatever it took to protect himself. Without a doubt, this had contributed to the adult Adrien had become. But there was something that flowed inside him that had contributed as well.

  It seemed that nature and nurture had created a monster, and with Ezekiel absent and unable to guide the young man, the monster overcame Adrien’s better tendencies.

  The magician cursed himself for leaving Arcadia in his hands. If he had only stayed, he might have been able to see the boy and the city to maturity.

  The door squeaked open behind him and pulled him from his mental self-flagellation.

  “Was the food appropriate?”

  Ezekiel couldn’t help but smile at the odd turn of phrase that the mystics used, but he followed the man’s lead. “Most appropriate, as is the rest of your hospitality.”

  Nodding, the man only stared at Ezekiel. The magician reminded himself that navigating this community took the utmost patience. Monastery life did not value efficiency. After what felt like an eternity, the man said, “The Master will see you now.”

  Climbing the stairs to the Master’s residence, Ezekiel felt the joy build in his heart. Selah, the Master, had been his primary pupil during his stay in the Heights. Their work together had not only laid the foundation for a community of magic users who were arguably the most powerful in Irth, but also a friendship that Ezekiel knew transcended time and distance.

  While there was much to be discussed regarding Adrien, Arcadia, and Ezekiel’s newest student, he also yearned to catch up with the man he considered one of his dearest friends.

  His escort opened the door for Ezekiel and stepped aside. The magician stepped across the threshold and looked around, hoping to find his friend. But instead of the big old jolly man with skin darker than the night, he looked into the eyes of a young woman no older than her mid-twenties, with a beauty that could start wars—or stop them. Her hair was dark, with hints of auburn.

  She rose as Ezekiel entered.

  “Master Ezekiel,” she said through a perfectly white smile, “I have waited a long time for this day.”

  He froze for a moment as if he were one of the mystics. “You’re—”

  “A woman? Yes. Young? Yes.”

  “Not Selah,” was his reply.

  Her eyes cast to the floor. “Forgive me. I thought you knew of his demise. Selah passed on to the next plane two years before now.” Her speech was steady, its patterns like the lowland dialect but still marked with the mystics’ idiosyncrasies. “His departure was swift and distinctly appropriate. I now hold his chair. Please, sit.” She motioned to a chair by the fire.

  Ezekiel took a place by the fire adjacent to the woman. Apparently Hannah was not the only young woman who had special talents.

  Some believed that the Age of Madness would be the great leveler. A catastrophe that would allow the world to emerge with people on equal footing, it would wipe away the differences of race, class, and gender.

  But Arcadia had demonstrated that it hadn’t come to pass. Rich men still held the mantles of power, but this woman and Ezekiel’s new student might be indicators that the patriarchal society was passing. It was said that the Queen Bitch had also been unusual.

  A woman who could rise in a male dominated world. One who could show the power, might, and justice of the fairer sex.

  “My name is Julianne. And it is now my honor to lead the mystics in our pursuit of the greater peace.”

  Ezekiel nodded. “How did you—”

  She smiled and held up a finger. “First, a toast. We must proceed appropriately.”

  Picking up two goblets from the table between them, she handed one to Ezekiel. She raised her own, its crystal causing the flames from the fire to dance around the room. “To the Matriarch and the Patriarch.”

  Ezekiel raised his glass and clinked hers. The scent of the strong elixir hit his nose before its wetness covered his tongue. He sipped slowly and took in as little as possible without providing
offense.

  His defenses were heightened in the absence of his old friend. One had to be cautious among the mystics. They were good people, but they had never minded burrowing into the heads of those around them.

  None of them saw it as trespassing. Everyone, in their experience, was a book open for browsing.

  When it came to telepathy, nothing primed a subject more than a pint or two of strong drink. He would need to stay sharp until he could trust her, or determine that she too had been turned, like Adrien, toward darkness.

  She licked her full lips and color rushed to her cheeks. Tilting her head, Julianne said, “Your defenses are strong, magician.”

  “Yes. Forgive me. I am not prone to allowing strangers to walk the halls of my mind.”

  “Understandable. Where you’re from it is common for people to use magic for nefarious ends. We are not like the lowlanders, though. Entering one another’s thoughts is a way to increase intimacy and speed familiarity.”

  “Yes. Well, we will take this slow. Forgive me. The world has shaped this old man into a creature of caution. Now about you?”

  She nodded. “As you wish, Master Magician. I am too young to have known you when last you walked these halls. But your name is legend here. Almost like the Matriarch and the Patriarch. I was born in a small village north of Arcadia, but Master Selah heard of my gifts on one of his pilgrimages and brought me here. My parents were more than happy to be rid of their freakish daughter.

  “I took to the temple quickly and was chosen as one of three to study directly under Master Selah. Succession was always on his mind; something he learned from you, no doubt. We were taught mindfulness and the arts from the earliest of ages. Much younger than most students. I wasn’t meant to be in this room so soon, but Selah’s transition came years earlier than any of us expected.”

  Ezekiel’s throat grew tight, and he wanted to ask what led to Selah’s demise, but he chose to allow his host to continue at her own speed.

  “On his way beyond, he chose me to take his place. As you can imagine, those around him were surprised. The calling has been a most challenging one, but with enough time alone and drink to soothe my mind, it has been an honor.”