this?’
Master Glim followed him, jogging at his side. ‘What spell did you cast just a moment ago, Samuel? I felt you exert your power and then you adjusted the magic quite expertly until it was indiscernible. Are you trying to hide something?’
Samuel kept marching. ‘I’m tired,’ he replied. ‘Let me be.’
‘Samuel!’ Master Glim called after him. ‘I am trying to help you!’
‘Help me?’ Samuel shouted back, and he laughed at the absurdity of such an outrageous suggestion. His head hurt so much and his eyes watered in the bright light. It felt like another person was inside him, using his voice. He could not remember when this feeling had come upon him. These days he had become so numb.
He spun on his heels and stopped, looking back at his teacher. The two Erics were still standing where he had fallen, looking down at their boots. The other Adept were with their horses a short distance away, watching on with mouths wide. Samuel felt lost for a moment before remembering his line of thought. ‘Why are you all looking at me!’ he shouted, pointing an unsteady finger back towards them.
Master Glim slowly shook his head and spoke softly once more. ‘Samuel,’ he said. ‘How foolish of me not to have realised what you’ve been doing. Magic is strong, but mortal flesh was not made to withstand the rigours you have been calling upon yourself. I see now that your body is well beyond exhaustion and spells are all you have left. You hid it well, but your ruse is now unravelled. Don’t you realise your spells cannot last forever? When they fail, your body will break under the strain, as you have just experienced for yourself.’ He then called over his shoulder. ‘Goodfellow. Pot. Come here, quickly.’
Suddenly, Samuel’s spells all vanished as something severed his connection with the ether. All the pain, all the cold and the terrible fatigue surged in upon him and he cried out in agony. He staggered forwards and went to his knees. There was a spell emanating from Master Glim, surrounding Samuel and keeping him from reaching his magic. The pain was unbearable and his muscles would not support his weight. They felt like withered cords beneath his skin. Samuel tried one last desperate time to gather some power, to somehow blast them all to dust, when his eyes rolled back in his head and he fell limply onto the grass.
Eric Pot stepped over him, their voices still faintly audible in the back of Samuel’s mind. ‘Even in such a state, he is quite the magician. What do we do with him?’
‘Back to the school. Quickly! We don’t have much time. Someone go on ahead and gather the Masters,’ Master Glim responded.
The last thing he felt was many hands grasping hold of him.
Samuel walked a ghostly corridor. It was the hallway of the Burning Oak, yet now it was filled with mist that clung to his legs. A door to his side opened noiselessly and Samuel saw inside. Instead of a room, he could see the enormous form of his uncle shouting wordless, spit-filled insults at the huddled silhouette of a little girl. The compulsion to move carried him on and another door opened, revealing his family, sitting in their home as he remembered they once did. They were laughing silently and having a merry time, yet outside the window, Samuel could see the leering faces of men pressed up against the glass.
Other doors opened, but Samuel could not bear to look through them, knowing their contents would be horrid. He carried on walking the long corridor, walking forward towards some end he could not see. Samuel looked around and found that it was now dark all around him. He was saturated with a feeling of utter cold, yet his body could not shiver. Something in the dark, perhaps many things, watched him with invisible eyes. Samuel spun, seeming to hear a tapping of footsteps on wooden flooring, but nothing was there. A whispering voice called through the dark.
‘Oosoo Ahn,’ it called.
The icy voice filled Samuel with fright, for he remembered the last time he had heard those words, when he had released the spirit into the world of the living.
‘Ahboo Ahn,’ came another voice-perhaps the same voice.
Something pulled at Samuel’s leg and he spun around. Wispy tendrils curled in the mist. Before his eyes, a milky claw formed in the air and reached out for his face.
Samuel screamed and ran blindly through the mist, gibbering with fright and tears. Whispering came from all around and clawed figures stooped and hovered at the corners of his vision. Something enormous loomed before him and Samuel stopped dead as an immense thing appeared out from the dark. It had nothing but eyes and a mouth and bulk; an enormous sense of weight that stretched back into the darkness, as if there the thing had no end.
Its eyes regarded Samuel emotionlessly and its mouth began to open. A heavy, clawed arm came slowly from its side and propped itself on Samuel’s head, pushing him to his knees. ‘I am waiting for you,’ it croaked in a language as old as time. It regarded him kneeling before it and a wicked, contented smile formed across its slavering lips.
Samuel blubbered and closed his eyes tight, wishing that it would go away, that the nightmare would end, but the claw began to pull him forwards, drawing him up and slowly into the opening mouth of the terrible, hungry thing. He opened his mouth to shout, but he could not make a sound.
From somewhere, a child’s voice began to call. ‘Father!’ it called. ‘Father! Father!’ over and over again. It was a mournful and fearful voice, like a child calling out for a loved one taken away. The claw then opened and released him and the enormous thing retreated into the darkness, gasping and babbling. Everything returned to utter blackness.
A new scene then began to evolve from the void. Samuel could see himself as a small boy. He was standing in his childhood home. His family was there at the table, laughing and talking soundlessly. He faced the door, for he knew there was something on the other side that wanted to come in. The boy tried to call out to his family, but the door had already swung open and the tall man was there. He was grinning maniacally and Samuel knew his face. It was Master Ash, and, as the man stepped in, his clothes became magician’s robes. Samuel turned to his family, but they were already staring at Ash-their faces were frozen masks of sheer horror and blood began to seep from their eyes and mouths. Samuel screamed as hard as he could, but the sound still would not come out. All he could hear was ‘Father!’ over and over again and it was now him calling. As the scene grew darker and darker, Samuel cowered under the table, frozen in fear as his father’s dead face stared across at him from upon the floor. Legs struggled silently back and forth about the room, but Ash stayed in the doorway, watching on with pleasure.
Moments or years passed, Samuel could not tell. His sleep seemed endless, restless. Dreams and nightmares swirled around him, intangible and formless. Voices and images haunted him, bordering on meaning, but unrecognisable. He yearned to wake up. He wanted to yell, ‘Wake up! Wake up!’ to himself and somehow just open his eyes-but he could not. Through the mists of obscurity, two voices slowly began to become clear. He knew he had heard them speaking through his dreams before, but his head was groggy and they lingered on the far side of recognition.
‘The boy is resting now,’ one said gruffly, wearily.
‘At last,’ the other said-a thin and nasal tone.
‘I was foolish not have taken more care with him. He could have overspent himself. Although, I must admit, it was interesting to see him showing some of his ability.’
‘It seems he is very attached to his friends. Perhaps, we should have used that to begin with.’
‘Too late now,’ the gruff voice admitted, with annoyance. A few breaths of silence. ‘So what do we do with him now?’
‘We have been fighting a gradually losing battle and I’ve used every favour owed to me. The boy has showed his hand and we have made little other gains. Yes-it is time for the boy to provide the leverage we need. Even if he is not up to the task, just the threat of bringing him into play may be enough.’
‘Do you really think it is wise to involve him now?’ the rough voice asked.
‘Yes. I am betting on it.’
‘You are betting our lives!’ the gruff voice said, with alarm.
‘Indeed, so I recommend you tread carefully. If his potential comes to fruition-just imagine! Who could ever catch him? He could be anywhere! That is, indeed, a power worth possessing. For this, the Circle will give us the final ingredients for our plan, and then even having the boy will not matter once his secret has been revealed.’
‘We cannot risk letting the Circle becoming involved!’ the gruff voice said fearfully.
‘They are already involved. They are involved in everything.’
