underneath the ground, its pressure shaking the soil and threatening to break through. It was difficult to put the power to rest, for the feeling had been wonderful and exhilarating. He had to calm himself several times and push his magic back deep within himself. A horrible image of a boy catching on fire came to mind and the thought caused his power to flicker and vanish.
Samuel gave a sigh of relief and looked up as the mage-lights above grew dim and faded one by one as the boys all ceased their spelling.
‘Well done,’ Master Glim said. ‘Those of you who managed and feel confident may practise in your own time. Those of you who did not may practise breathing techniques, but do not try to channel power until we next meet. That is all. Master Sanctus has you all day tomorrow.’
There was a groan at this and all the boys began to file out. Samuel did not leave at once, but instead went to Master Glim’s side; his teacher was replacing his instrument into a small cupboard. Peering past him, Samuel could see all manner of other curious things tucked inside.
‘Master Glim?’ Samuel asked.
‘Well done, Samuel,’ Master Glim said, closing the door and turning to face his student. ‘I felt some magic in you at the end there. Just a touch, but enough to let me know you have good potential. Do not worry that you could not do anything today. It never comes at once. You did well just to breathe properly and relax. Have you practised before?’
‘A little-but I want to ask you-I was wondering about magic. I felt very strange just now and a little sick. I heard about the boy that caught fire and I wondered if that’s what it felt like. Can you let too much power in?’
‘Yes, indeed,’ Master Glim conceded. ‘That can happen to untrained magicians and, unfortunately, seems to be happening more and more of late. If one lets too much magic in and not enough out, the power can be dangerous-overwhelming. If too much magic fills you, burn it out somehow while you temper your connection to the source. Make a knot of power as we have today and throw it away. Cast it out into the sky, for magic must be consumed once summoned or it will consume you. And magic will not return to the ether easily. It is a skill that must be slowly developed. All this is why you are here, to learn the simplest yet most important of lessons: you must master yourself if you are to master your magic.’
Samuel thought he understood some of what Master Glim told him, but his mind was focussed on a terrible image of wild, uncontrolled magic tearing across his skin. He only hoped it never happened to him.
Archmage Ordi hurried out onto his balcony, perched high atop the Mage Tower, where he very often felt like a god looking down upon the earth. Such feelings of grandeur, however, were far from his mind at present, as something powerful and unsettling had disturbed him from his napping and had brought him rushing outside.
It took only a glance over the city to see what was tugging at his senses, for hovering above the School of Magic was an enormous blue sphere of extraordinary power. It paled the sun and the streets below were suddenly still and quiet as every person in view shaded their eyes and gawked at the spectacle. The city folk were used to occasional mystic events from the magicians, but this was a wondrous display and the denizens of Cintar had all stopped in place to observe and marvel.
The Archmage stroked his long, gnarled, wooden staff absentmindedly, with his thumb, and watched on thoughtfully as the spell flashed and glimmered below him.
The fiery sphere then flashed from existence and was gone, leaving the world dull again and pale by comparison. The throngs of people below all at once lowered their gazes and went back to their scurrying and shouting and selling and bargaining, and the spontaneous wonder was quickly forgotten.
If this was meant to be some sort of display from Grand Master Anthem, the Archmage was not impressed. The man had been a thorn in his side for far too long and he had long since stopped believing that the wily old Anthem was as passionate about the Empire as he claimed. No, Anthem had dipped his fingers into too many cookie jars and the time of his comeuppance was quickly approaching. He had been given more than enough time to prove his worth-years and countless resources-but still there was nothing to show except more excuses. Old Anthem was quickly losing all precious favour with the Emperor and all such past gratitude would soon be worthless. Archmage Ordi knew it had been a mistake from the start.
The Archmage slowly scratched his chin and went to adjust his splendid purple-hemmed robes, before realising he was completely naked. In his hurry to get to his balcony, he had leapt straight out of bed without thinking. Chuckling to himself, the bony old magician strolled back inside. He put his staff back in its place beside his great bed, before crawling back onto the mattress and pulling the masses of thick and fluffy blankets back on top of himself and preparing to continue his comfortable nap. There was no need to hurry. He had waited a long time already and events would unfold of their own accord soon enough.
Lessons with Master Sanctus were hideously tedious. He was responsible for teaching the apprentices to speak in the Old Tongue, the language of magicians. The Old Tongue closely followed the lines of power and was, therefore, more useful in magic than the Turian language that was now common about the land. Samuel was well behind in the lessons and realised he would have to spend all his free time studying to catch up, although the two Erics both said they would help. The Old Tongue was strange and alien to him, difficult between his lips. Other students were already forming sentences and starting to converse with it, while Samuel stuttered and baulked on the simplest of words, like
He managed to spell a splendid mage-light the next day and Master Glim was very pleased. It actually felt much easier than the time before, and required much less effort. In the following days, however, he found he was far behind in every area of his studies. He had history lessons with Master Kalbak, mathematics lessons with Master Fraser, literature with Master Yule and magic lessons with Master Glim, although the teachers all seemed quite flexible and exchanged roles on occasion.
Samuel spent hours every day in the Great Library, jotting notes and such, trying to get his mind around the perplexing mannerisms of the Old Tongue. To help him improve, Samuel and Eric Goodfellow made a resolution to initially say everything in Old Tongue, and then only in Turian if one of them did not understand. It was ridiculous at first, as Samuel never understood what was being said, but even after a few days, he began to notice some improvement, recognising some of the basic phrases.
Samuel also spent considerable time in the Great Hall when it was empty, practising his mage-lights. Day after day, he practised in every spare moment. He was not happy with just making one or two, and he forced himself to keep trying until he could make up to a dozen. He felt quite proud at this one accomplishment and finally began to feel all his extra study was starting to show results. Soon, he found he could manipulate the shapes of his lights, giving them different tones and colours. Blues spheres became green ovals, yellow squares, and red triangles. By combining the shapes and colours, Samuel could make the semblance of a tree or flower or even a basic man.
Every few months, one teacher would leave or another would come, but Master Glim and Master Sanctus still led the bulk of the lessons. They received new classes from Master Rubrick and Master Jod. Every teacher had a different perspective to share regarding their education and would instruct them on every conceivable aspect of being a magician. Master Dividian even began teaching them the history and philosophy of magic. Most students found these lessons tedious, as Master Dividian was a self-important and pompous old man. Not all the teachers were as popular as Master Glim, but Master Dividian was as far from likeable as any student thought possible.
Master Rubrick would teach them all the ways of positioning the body, so that magical energy could be gathered more efficiently. Samuel recognised some of the strange positions and movements he had seen in the Burning Oak. Some were low, almost squatting positions with arms and hands all curled and bunched up, while others were tall, outstretching, even one-legged stances. Samuel could feel the magic course through him whenever he practised these positions. He remembered the deftness with which Grand Master Anthem and Lomar had performed the movements and vowed to be at least as good as them.
Master Jokkle later arrived to take over all their intermediate schooling, such as grammar, science and mathematics. He was an energetic and dedicated teacher and seemed to enjoy any gains they made, so it made the classes more interesting. Some students objected to such mundane lessons, but Master Jokkle always managed to think of some example where a magician with good schooling was better than a magician with good magic. They did not need to reach the level of the scholars in the Emperor’s university, but many members of the Order did lecture there, such was their considerable knowledge. Samuel could see the point of all this, but somehow, the
