The Young Magician

their enormous wicker baskets, eyeing the empty street with disdain and holding onto their goods with each blustery squall.

Samuel was just hurrying along, lost in his own thoughts, when he became aware of another magician nearby-several, in fact. He turned on the spot, just in time to have a group of men fall upon him, throwing him to the ground and knocking the wind out of him.

‘What the…’ Samuel began to shout, when a damp rag was thrust into his face and a wretched, overpowering vapour filled his lungs and began burning its way into his nose and down his throat. He began coughing at once and the world spun around him. He struggled to find his legs, but they were jelly beneath him. Something was thrown over him, and everything became completely black. Rough hands lifted him, while voices barked commands in hushed tones. He was tossed and juggled once more and then all he could feel was a jostling from side to side as the darkness all around crept deeper and deeper into his mind.

Samuel awoke, his hands clutching his head. His throat was red raw and his brain felt like it had taken a stiff beating with a blunt stick. On top of that, his mouth was full of the taste of something vile and the air smelled of the same-like some burnt, pungent herb. He lay still for a while, moaning to himself, because there was literally nothing else he could do. It was surprisingly difficult to gather his thoughts and even moving his tongue was difficult.

Stinging sunlight suddenly washed over him and Samuel covered his eyes with his hands as well as he could. He could not help but give out a yelp as he struggled to be out of the blinding light.

‘Good morning, Samuel!’ a chirpy voice called out. Even more sunlight flooded in as another curtain was drawn open. ‘I must apologise for your treatment, but it was necessary to get your attention. I fear we used somewhat too much Eldinswurt. It’s dreadfully expensive and quite difficult to obtain. It’s much better than Scour Spice though; doesn't give you such awful diarrhoea. I hope you don’t feel too put out.’

Samuel groaned in response. He was slowly getting used to the light, but the man’s chirpy voice was somehow even more painful.

‘The master will be in to see you soon. Why, you haven’t even touched your breakfast! Havar will be quite disappointed. That will teach him. I told him you wouldn’t feel like eggs.’ And then the door closed once again, leaving the chirpy man’s voice trailing away from the other side.

Samuel moaned once more and opened his eyes just a slit. He managed to sit up and swing his feet onto the floor. His legs were unsteady, but somehow they carried him, half-blind, to the window. With one hand still clutched over his face, he threw the curtains back shut. Another window was still wide open, but at least with this one covered Samuel could now dare to observe his surroundings without fear of burning his eyes out.

He was alone in a plush room. It was quite lavish, with satin covered cushions lying beside the four-poster bed. An enormous mirror was set against one wall, reflecting the room from floor to ceiling. Such a creation was impossible to make by standard means. Magic had no doubt played a significant part in its moulding.

Stumbling towards the open window, Samuel looked out to gain his bearings. The palace towers were immediately visible above the rooftops. From the angle, he judged himself to be at the southern edge of the city where many of the wealthy lords and merchants resided, clustered on a small hill. Indeed, his view was from several storeys up, looking over a splendid garden complete with square-cut hedges.

He staggered back to the bed and fell upon it, completely exhausted. He knew he should be doing something to escape, but somehow he just could not compel himself to do any more than groan and look at the inside of his eyelids.

It was some time before he felt the energy to sit up. He managed to turn his attention to the plate of breakfast waiting nearby on the vanity. He ate the cold eggs and bread without enthusiasm and it seemed to do him some good, for his head had begun to clear already.

He stood up and stumbled across the floor on drunken legs. He grabbed hold of the doorknob and was thankful to find it sturdy enough to bear much of his weight. It was also, not surprisingly, soundly locked. It seemed he had been captured by some rogue magicians. He had been warned of the Circle of Eyes, but Samuel had expected more of a direct confrontation. He had never heard of magicians resorting to drugs and potions before. It seemed so primitive. Still, it had worked quite flawlessly and now he was their captive.

Footsteps sounded outside and Samuel had only a moment’s notice to step back before the lock began rattling, clacked and then the door opened inwards. Several magicians strode in and Samuel managed a few more awkward steps backward. They met him with serious faces, dressed in robes of rainbow colours. They formed a half-circle around him and when the final figure strode in to face him, dressed all in white, Samuel recognised the man immediately.

‘Balthazar?’ Samuel asked incredulously. ‘You’re responsible for this?’

The wiry man nodded solemnly. ‘I am, Samuel. I was forced to. You left me little choice by being so stubborn. All I want is for you to hear what I have to say and then I know you will be convinced by our cause.’

Samuel picked up a large cushion from the corner and, placing it in the middle of the room, he dropped himself upon it, for he was feeling exhausted already from his efforts to walk. His captors, receiving a nod from Balthazar, did likewise and sat facing him, with Balthazar sitting nearest.

‘This had better be good, Balthazar,’ Samuel said, sitting back into an even more comfortable position. His head was slowly clearing and he thought he only needed a few minutes before he could muster enough energy to spell. Those facing him remained sitting stiff and upright, their legs crossed. ‘I could have you before the Emperor’s court for kidnapping me and I’m sure the Order would have something to say about it also.’

Balthazar raised a hand in dismissal. ‘I was willing to take that chance with you, Samuel. Once you hear what I have to say, I hope you will feel somewhat enlightened and you will understand why we had to take such drastic measures.’

Samuel’s sight was gradually returning and he could now see that these men were all magicians, but not one of them was talented enough to warrant his concern. Their skills with magic were minor, yet the fact they had resorted to potions to capture him marked them as unpredictable, perhaps even dangerous. The man to Balthazar’s left seemed familiar. He had not spoken a word, but between Samuel’s instincts and the man’s idiotic grin, Samuel was fairly sure he was the chirpy fellow who had drawn open the curtains.

Samuel raised his hands. He needed some more time to recover his strength. ‘Enlighten me, then,’ he said resignedly.

‘We are no fools, Samuel. I myself began my life as a magician within the Order, but I soon realised how hollow and senseless such an organisation is-a tool for the Emperor. I may be a proud Turian, but I cannot so blindly follow the Emperor’s will. I also have a grand vision for the future. That is why I formed the Union of Modern Magicians, for we have banded together to help bring a more purposeful tomorrow.’

‘And how would you do that?’ Samuel asked, with no lack of scepticism.

‘We do not have the Magicians’ Council pulling our strings and we do not have the Archmage looking over our shoulders. We can achieve things that would take the Order years to even discuss. Oh, I see that you are doubtful, but I understand-truly, I do. These others were doubtful at first, but they came to see how I see and now we all work together to build a new future, as can you.’

‘So what do you actually do?’ Samuel asked. ‘I mean, what’s your plan?’

‘For now, we are strengthening ourselves, building our numbers. Each year we grow stronger and soon we will be a power to match the Order. Turia craves for a voice of reason amid all its terrible confusion.’

‘Well, how many members do you have now?’ Samuel asked with genuine curiosity.

Balthazar rubbed his chin with one long finger thoughtfully. ‘Including the seven of us here now…there are eight of us.’

‘Eight,’ Samuel responded, raising an eyebrow. ‘And how long have you been recruiting members?’

Balthazar chuckled. ‘Oh, barely three years.’ He actually sounded proud. ‘We grow stronger every year.’

‘Except, of course, for last year,’ the chirpy fellow reminded him. ‘Daniel and Sullumner both gave up and went home.’

‘Oh, yes,’ Balthazar admitted. ‘But this year, things will be different. With you counted amongst us, Samuel, the Order will finally be forced to treat us with respect.’

Samuel could hold back no longer. His mouth dropped open and he could not stop himself from laughing right in their faces. The men’s smiles sagged and wilted as he cackled away in front of them.

‘I’m sorry. Truly, I am,’ Samuel managed between giggles. ‘But you don’t know how ridiculous you sound.’ He would not normally have so easily broken down into such fits of laughter, but their concoction still seemed to be