As Samuel went to step out of the Great Hall, he eyed the rain with apprehension. It was nearly raining sideways now, for the wind had blown up almost to a gale. Samuel pulled his robes tighter and hurried out, throwing the warming spell onto himself as he went-for Master Jod was right; he had lots of practice to get done, so he may as well start now.
‘Eric! Wait!’ he called out through the rain and darted after his friend. At least this way, he could improve his spells
Samuel lay in bed, looking up at the ceiling beams. He had done little but sleep, wipe his nose and look at the ceiling for days now; all thanks to the cold he had caught from running around the city with Eric in the wet. His head ached as soon as he tried to read and his body was too stiff to move further than down the stairs to get something to eat. Even his appetite evaded him at the moment.
The others had been taken to the palace to put on a performance for the royal court and Samuel was fuming that he had missed out. He still had not managed to see inside the palace, whereas some of the others had even been twice. Eric had told Samuel that they would go together when he was feeling better, for he declared that it was quite simple to sneak in and look around. Samuel had decided to wait until his friend had tested his theory a few more times before he tried it for himself.
Samuel’s limbs began to tremble again and he slightly altered his warming spell to make himself a little more comfortable. These turns of hot and cold kept dogging him and no amount of spelling could keep them at bay for long. He could not remember ever feeling so ill. Master Glim had said he would probably be better by today, but he only felt worse. The droning in his head started up again and he realised he was wet with perspiration, so he altered the spell yet again.
Shivering, he soon fell back into nightmarish dreams, where ghostly white claws tugged at his sheets and threatened to pull him through the dark cracks in the floor and a man loomed in the doorway, laughing hysterically at Samuel’s misfortune.
It was still raining a few days later, but Samuel was feeling a little better. Goodfellow had brought him a concoction of herbs that his auntie had recommended, and they seemed to be doing the trick. Perhaps tomorrow he could return to class. He felt awful staying in bed all day and, with all the rain and having this bad cold, he felt in a terrible mood. He had tried studying, but he could not concentrate enough to read his notes and everything he did manage to read made little sense. When he was better, he would study twice as hard and practise magic all day long. He was tired of this school and tired of his classes and his teachers and his classmates. He wanted to hurry up and graduate and show everyone what a real magician could do. He would prove to the entire Order that he was the greatest magician Amandia had ever seen. He would train the teachers how to actually teach their pupils, instead of treating them like children and wasting their precious time every day. And, if anyone challenged him, he would show them the true extent of his power, for his magic would be beyond compare. Given a little more time, he would be able to defeat any of the teachers here, and even Grand Master Anthem, should he choose. Samuel smiled at that thought. He would prove to everyone that he was the most powerful magician there ever was. He closed his eyes and lay back in his bed. Opening himself to the ether, he filled himself with magic and let it course through and around his body, thrilling him. As he lay alone in the dormitory, he smiled to himself and envisaged all his fantasies of future conquest. He would show them all, he thought and, as his magic burned through him, he actually believed it was true.
Samuel’s mount galloped up the grassy hill, followed closely by Eric atop his tall, grey mare.
‘I didn’t think that anyone would be able to best me, Samuel, but you have become an extraordinary rider,’ Eric called.
The others, led by Master Glim on his black-speckled stallion, were still charging up the base of the slope. Samuel turned his animal around and waited for them to arrive. The city was laid out below against the great blue ocean. It was the first sunny day in weeks and Master Glim had declared that it was time for another lesson in riding; a perfect chance to get out of the city and appreciate the wonderful turn of weather.
Gulls could be seen wheeling above the docks and, as always, tiny specks of people and animals dotted the roads that scarred the fields all around the city. Northbank sat on the other side of the Bardlebrook, seeming to grow closer to Cintar every day as the small satellite city continued to prosper. A great new bridge was being built next to the old one to span the narrows, and the Adept were often being called to help in the construction, lifting the great stones into place with their spells.
Master Glim’s animal came over the rise and pulled to a halt beside Samuel.
‘You’ve improved, Samuel!’ Master Glim declared, sweat matting his hair.
Samuel sniffed. The air was still a bit chilly today, so he adjusted his spells to warm him a little. ‘It doesn’t take a genius to stay in a saddle,’ Samuel replied curtly. It always annoyed him when Master Glim treated him like a child.
Samuel caught a raised eyebrow passing from Eric to the teacher. They had been acting strangely, of late, whispering when they thought he could not hear them, but his magically enhanced senses easily caught their speech. They were always whispering about him.
His animal was not much to speak of, but Samuel, with a slight Lifting spell, had perfected the art of helping his horse so that it could gallop faster and tire slower. It meant he was always well in front of the others, and he knew it annoyed Eric, who had always raved on about how he was such a fine rider. At first, they may have been able to detect such a spell, but Samuel had mastered the art and now needed little power to accomplish such magic. It was but a trickle, barely noticeable above the natural murmur of the world and its ever-humming fields of power.
‘You look tired today, Samuel,’ Master Glim then said. ‘Are you sure that you’re feeling well today? Perhaps we should head back.’
Samuel threw the man as dark a look as he could muster. Why was he always questioning him and trying to make him feel ill at ease? At one time, Samuel would have thought Master Glim was above petty jealousy, but now the man was always trying to intimidate him and question his ability. He pitied such childish ignorance. ‘I’m fine,’ Samuel replied, looking further up the hillside.
Just then, all the other Adept arrived and came galloping to a halt beside them, horses stomping and steaming.
‘A brief rest,’ Master Glim called out. ‘Then to the edge of the woods and home.’
Samuel spurred his mount on, kicking it hard with his heels and whipping the reins for all the animal was worth and he was away from them in a moment. He had little patience to waste more time out here. He would make the woods and quickly be home to rest. He strengthened his spell to lighten his horse a little more, but as he did, the world lurched and Samuel’s heart seemed to shudder up into his throat. The ground loomed up impossibly and smashed him in the face, his vision flashing black, white, red and black again as he rolled over and over. When he finally came to a rest a little way down the slope, he could see his animal still galloping a short distance away. It was turning in a wide circle to find its rider. Then the sound of hurried boots came near and hands began turning him over.
‘Samuel!’ came a strange voice.
It took him a few moments to realise it was Eric Pot speaking. He gathered his wits as hands tried to lift him. ‘Get off me!’ he demanded, wiping the spit and vomit from his face. ‘What is wrong with you people? Stop looking at me! Am I a cripple?’ He slapped the hands away and stood on shaky legs, scraping at the dirt and grass on his clothing.
Master Glim and the two Erics were beside him. The other Adept were all waiting on foot a short way hence, holding their reins and gawking at him.
‘What happened, Samuel?’ Goodfellow asked.
Samuel felt a little dizzy and adjusted his spells. He had found variations on the spells he had already learned, spells to ease the stiffness in his muscles, spells to ease the soreness in his bones, even spells to hold him steady when his head became light. He had needed them much, of late, ever since he had caught that stubborn cold.
‘Samuel, listen to me. What are you doing?’ Master Glim asked.
‘I’m going back to the city,’ Samuel replied, starting for his horse. His head itched and, rubbing at it, his hand revealed a trickle of blood. ‘I’m sick of all this playing around. I have work to do. Why do you waste our time like
