The Young Magician

It seemed their adventure had been something of a success, for the streets of Cintar had been filled with soldiers and magicians alike since their escape from the palace. Every effort was being made to recover the stolen books and find the rogue magicians, with soldiers banging on doors and searching buildings indiscriminately. Fortunately, there were not enough magicians in the city to accompany every squad and the escapees simply hid their door from view whenever soldiers came trudging up their stairs.

‘It looks as though our efforts have caused rather a stir,’ Lomar noted. ‘The Emperor has mobilised the entire city garrison and the Archmage has everyone with two good legs out in the streets. It can only mean we managed to take something they need.’

‘Or else they just want us to think that,’ Goodfellow suggested. ‘That way we won’t get up to any more mischief.’

‘Ah…it’s possible,’ Lomar confessed, ‘but I wouldn’t give them so much credit. Turians are not known for subtlety, after all. This show of force really suggests desperation.’

‘Do you think Master Glim will be able to contact us?’ Eric asked of the tall magician.

Lomar shook his head. ‘I think it’s too dangerous for the time being. I’m quite sure he escaped without being seen, so he’ll be waiting in the School of Magic, but they’ll be watching it now more closely than ever. It may take him some time to find a way to reach us.’

A young boy in the room upstairs-Eezel was his name-was their only source of food for the time being. He happily brought them whatever they requested from the market in exchange for a few coins. He seemed ignorant as to who they were and, just to be sure, Samuel gleaned his thoughts occasionally to check for any malevolent intentions. Eezel, however, had his mind focussed only on making some money to buy himself a new football. If not for him, the four magicians would have run out of food and drink long before.

Samuel’s wounds healed quickly with the aid of spells, but still, if he moved too quickly or in the wrong way, the pain was terrible and his flesh felt like it had been torn anew. He lay in his bed, struggling to read, turning pages and scribbling down notes with his good arm as well he could. When he felt stronger, he began to sit up and, after that, he kept his arm strung at his chest with a scrap of cloth.

For many days, Samuel, Lomar and the Erics scoured through the volumes of text that they had stolen, searching for any mention of the Argum Stone or the black magic that Ash had been employing.

They had only managed to steal a fraction of what had been hoarded in the Argum Stone’s chamber, and almost half of that had been left in the carriage. Eric had scolded Samuel when he heard that the books in the carriage had not been destroyed, but Goodfellow was supportive of his friend’s actions. Lomar took the middle ground, admitting that, for the sake of stopping the war, the books should have been destroyed, but that Samuel probably had little opportunity to do so as he defended against his pursuers. Samuel finally admitted his fault and stated that they would have to do the best they could with what little material they had managed to save.

Each page they read seemed to present only further questions and precious few answers. Goodfellow had fixed papers along one wall and they began to jot anything they thought was important upon it. They found many references to the Ancient Lick and they jotted them all down on the wall in an attempt to find a common frame of reference. At first, they had only a handful of figures, but as they progressed, they found more and more relationship between the symbols, slowly developing some meaning between them all.

They sorted all the books into piles of apparently useful books and those that appeared nonsensical or useless. Many contained garbled poems and indecipherable gibberish and some were unrelated to anything relevant at all. Some were written in languages that none of them were capable of understanding.

Every book ever written with even a mention of the Ancients must have been piled in that chamber, even if they were filled with absolute nonsense. Some contained no more than a single word or reference. Some were so old and damaged that the text was completely illegible. Still, they forged on, sorting through the many pages.

Samuel scoured every leaf and page for reference to the Argum Stone or black magic and the only Ancient phrase he knew, ‘amun-morbayah’-the words Ash had used that had made the relic burn instantly hot. He found a sketch of what may have been the Argum Stone, amongst a page of turbid writings, but he could make no sense of them. He put the pages on the appropriate pile for future study. Of the strange phrase, he could only guess that it was some key word for the relic, but its exact meaning was a mystery. The only clue was that the words seemed similar to the Old Tongue phrase ah’munna moora bai ahmeen, which meant ‘point through the centre’ or perhaps ‘touch around the middle’. The meaning was vague, to say the least. Samuel chewed over his thoughts, scratched at the scar on his arm and kept on reading.

They learned that the Ancients often used their ability to travel instantly by the means of Journey Spells, such as Eric’s. Samuel read how one powerful man, called Marrag Lin, the Seer of Korda, defied his peers and used this ability to open a gate to another world altogether. He was immediately overcome by the evil presence that dwelt there and at once became its slave. After that, he performed many dark and evil deeds and offered his colleagues to his new masters as sacrifices. The man learned how to use the captured essence of his victims as a source of power and he caused much suffering before he was overcome. His soul had become so darkened by the black magic, that he was drawn into the very world he had opened. He defied the laws of death and himself became a devil along with his three closest disciples. The use of such magic was forever forbidden and all record of its use supposedly destroyed.

‘The Devils of Korda?’ Goodfellow asked after Samuel had explained what he had found.

‘I thought it a tale until now,’ Samuel said.

‘Most tales have their roots in truth,’ Lomar explained. ‘We have learned that Ash is treading where he should not and we should be even more careful when facing him. I would not be surprised if this tale were true and devils did once walk the land but, even if it were not, it is still not a wise idea to meddle with things unknown. Ignorance can be most dangerous. Ash should be very careful.’

‘Do you think the Archmage or the other councillors would resort to such black magic?’ Eric asked.

Lomar shook his head. ‘I hope not. Only a fool would deal with such powers. Even the Archmage would not stoop to such things. At least, I hope not. If the bearer of such power were to be overcome by evil, he would be very difficult to defeat.’

‘It took all our strength to save Master Glim from the trap in the Argum Stone’s chamber,’ Samuel explained. ‘And we had no idea it was even there. Such magic seems to be entirely different from our own and much more powerful.’

‘I’m sure we can find some way to match it. It is only powerful because we have no knowledge of it,’ Lomar said with determination, and they continued reading until their eyes ached in their heads.

In the following days, they came across various rituals and rites related to such dark power. The authors described unholy incantations and animal and human sacrifice and the use of bodily organs. Few of the authors wrote with clarity, as if gripped by the throes of madness and their works often ended abruptly. It seemed there were many groups around the land that used simple black magic to further their own causes. Covens, the author called them, and they would meet and practise their art in secret. Even common folk could use such power, for it depended on no skills of their own, and their jealousy towards magicians often brought the two groups into conflict. Even the most well-meaning practitioner of the dark arts soon became tainted, resorting to more and more vile acts until that individual was overcome altogether. Along with this were documented the many great purges of such witches by the lawmakers of the times. Those charged with finding and punishing any folk using any dark arts were traditionally called witch hunters.

After a slow week they had discovered much, but their search was still only beginning. They still had no idea of how to combat black magic with their own. In all probability, Lomar stated, that was why Ash employed it. It was totally alien to the Order and made him as powerful as several magicians with its use. Their only salvation was that black magic required a source of power different to their own magic. First, a ritual must be performed, invoking the power of the dark spirits. Then, once some power had been granted, it must be stored for future use in jars or vials with vital fluids that sustained it, exactly as Ash had done. Once these stores of power had been exhausted, then the summoning ritual must be performed again. This was both a blessing and a curse for those who wished to use black magic, for you could cast as many spells as you had vials, almost instantly and with little invocation but, once they were used, there was no way to quickly use any magic again. Only the greater witches could channel power directly from the dark realm, and generally only for very limited durations.