The Young Magician

‘Oh, Samuel. That’s terrible!’

‘Don’t worry!’ he said confidently. ‘I’m sure I can come back soon and see you. I promise.’

‘Oh, Samuel,’ she said again and kissed him quickly on the cheek.

‘But I must go!’ he exclaimed. ‘Master Goodwin is waiting for me, and I must go see Mr Joshua and get my money!’

‘Goodbye, Samuel! I will miss you!’

‘Me, too! Goodbye, Jessicah!’ And with that Samuel was off again.

‘Hey, Samuel!’ called a familiar voice, as Samuel was crossing the market square. Samuel stopped and Fat Martin, a street boy Samuel knew well, came scampering up to him. ‘If you’re on your way to see Mr Joshua, I’d think twice!’

‘Why is that?’ Samuel asked.

‘Some trouble. The city guard are there.’

Samuel became worried. ‘I’ll be careful.’ And he sped off again.

On nearing Mr Joshua’s office, Samuel slowed to a walk and carefully peered down the narrow street. Two guards were waiting arms-folded by the entrance. Samuel was sure more were inside, but he could not guess as to what they were doing-nothing serious, he hoped. He was eager to get the savings that Mr Joshua had been keeping for him, but the guards left him no choice. He waited a painfully long time, but the guards barely moved a muscle the whole time. Samuel was forced to turn about and jog away to meet Master Goodwin. His money would have to wait until he returned to Stable Canthem. He had a little from his work at the Burning Oak, and Master Kelvin had said the school in Cintar would provide him with everything, but he still wanted his money. Mr Joshua had been a good employer and friend, so hopefully he would not be too angry at Samuel’s sudden departure and would keep the money for when he could return.

Master Goodwin was waiting patiently at the north bridge, which crossed the Mentine River. He did not ask a word when Samuel jumped up beside him and they set off at once. Samuel thought he should feel saddened that he could not say goodbye to Mr Joshua, but he was filled with such excitement at this new adventure.

At first, Samuel was excited with crossing new lands, but he soon discovered that one part of the highway was much the same as any other-dusty and featureless. It reminded him of his journey from Stable Waterford long ago; however, this time he was not fleeing from an abominable past, but headed for an exciting future. When he was a magician, he would surely learn to fly through the air and battle great dragons that rose hissing from the sea. The children in Stable Canthem had always talked of magic and the incredible things that magicians did. How exciting to think that, soon, he would be one of them. Then again, the guests at the Burning Oak were all magicians, and they were mostly grumpy old men. Samuel would be an adventurous magician, he was sure-not at all like them.

Master Goodwin told Samuel to call him Tulan, and it soon became evident that once Samuel got to know him, he was far friendlier and much more genuine than all the other magicians had been-except for Lomar, of course.

‘So, are all magicians called Master?’ Samuel asked.

‘Most are,’ Tulan answered with some amusement at the question. ‘It’s a title that the Magicians’ Council created many years ago to make us all feel better than the common folk. You start as an apprentice magician and become an Adept when you are almost ready. After a few years’ experience, you graduate and become a Master Magician. The titles are often changing and are not really important as far as I’m concerned. The Magicians’ Council is always fiddling and changing things without too particular a reason.’

‘So that’s not what they are supposed to do?’

Tulan snorted. ‘Not really, no. Politics, Samuel. Everything has politics-even magic. Once, I thought that magicians only did positive and wonderful things, but it turns out that we are governed by rules and bureaucracy as much as anyone-more so. There are too many greedy sods in the Order trying to squirm into positions of power. The Council is ever full of arguments and bickering. I couldn’t believe it at first, but that’s just the way of things. I try to ignore it as best I can. Sometimes, I’ve even considered leaving the Order altogether, but we can’t let such things get us down, can we?’ And he gave Samuel his most optimistic smile.

Samuel nodded. He had heard his father say similar things about the village leaders. People always seemed to complicate even the simplest of matters, having meetings and discussions and all sorts of arguments when none were really needed. Then something occurred to him. ‘What would you do if you left the Order?’

Tulan looked at him with genuine amusement. ‘There are some other groups I could join.’ He began to rattle off their names: ‘The Union of Modern Magicians, Rammel’s Spellcasters, The Magician’s Alliance…a few more. But they are really only token organisations and most only have a handful of members. The Order has the backing of the Emperor and is, therefore, the only one real association of magicians. The others are allowed to exist merely for the sake of appearances-places to put troublesome magicians where the Order can keep an eye on them and they can do little damage. No, the Order has its fair share of troubles and worries, but it is really the only way for a magician to exist in the Empire.’

Samuel nodded in understanding. ‘I didn’t know it was so difficult.’

‘Don’t worry, Samuel,’ Tulan said with a smile. ‘I should not worry you with such things at such a young age. My experiences have made me cynical, but you have your whole life in front of you. It seems you have a decent talent. I’m sure you will do your parents very proud.’ At that, Samuel’s face fell and, after a few moments, Tulan noticed his silence. ‘What’s the matter?’ he asked the boy with concern.

‘My parents were killed.’

‘Oh, I’m sorry, Samuel. I didn’t know. The world is a cruel and heartless place, despite its brief golden moments. I see now that you have discovered this already.’

Samuel nodded silently, then settled back into his seat and let the dusty countryside slowly rattle by.

After only a few more days, Tulan announced they were within the borders of Turia itself, seat of the Turian Empire and home to the Order of Magicians. The School of Magicians was located all the way in Cintar, the great capital, which would take them another two weeks to reach. Samuel could not believe it. He thought it could perhaps be a few more days, but another twoweeks? How could the land be so large? Master Kelvin had shown him maps of western Amandia, but the scale had never really occurred to him until now.

‘This is the slow way to travel, of course,’ Tulan informed him, gesturing to the wagon beneath them. ‘We could be a good way there by now if we were riding. They will probably teach you to ride in Cintar at some stage. It makes civilisation seem much more civilised when the towns with comfortable beds are not so far apart.’ Samuel nodded. ‘But I still enjoy taking my time occasionally-it reminds me of my childhood,’ Tulan added after a few moments silence. He had been scouring the open land with his blue clear eyes, watching the wind bend the reeds that sprouted tall along the roadside canals. ‘And it gives you time to think about things.’

They stayed at inns and occasionally at a magician’s guesthouse, similar to the Burning Oak. Tulan was obviously well travelled, as he knew these unmarked buildings from the others on sight. None had gardens as lovely as the Burning Oak, but all were lavish and splendid and they were afforded every comfort without any requirement to pay. Tulan wore his black trousers and dark, buttoned shirt as they travelled and the further they went, the more people seemed to recognise him for what he was, calling him Lord or Master and bowing before him.

‘I hate all this business,’ Tulan told Samuel. ‘They think we are nobles or saints of some kind. We’re no more worthy of their praise then the next man. Sometimes, I curse these clothes of black,’ he said, tugging at his clothing. ‘It’s true we heal the odd gimpy leg or cure the occasional bunion as we pass, but the Empire can’t hope to undo what it has done so easily. Don’t be surprised if someone throws a dead goat on our laps and expects me to heal it for them. Although, this close to Cintar we shouldn’t be bothered.’

‘Could you heal a dead goat?’ Samuel asked, in all seriousness.

Tulan laughed and shook his head. ‘Dead is dead, Samuel. Not even magic can cure that.’

‘Tell me more about magic,’ Samuel asked as the road led them through a series of wide, flat fields along a valley bottom. The hills all around had been tiered so as to be cultivated, making them all appear to be covered in