“This room affords supernatural protection through magical wards,” the elf remarked, leading him to the center, where two red cushions lay on the floor. “Most are denied entrance here, but today we will allow it, as your talents are unknown.”
“So if I put us in danger,” Matt surmised wryly, “you want people to get in and save us?”
“Something like that,” replied Lorian lightly. They sat on the cushions as a robin flew in and landed on a ledge. “You must understand where magic comes from or you’re no different from those using magic items, except more dangerous. Magic is inherently perilous, so we use prescribed means to perform it.”
“Spells,” Matt guessed.
“Correct. Spells can be fundamentally different on other worlds, but here a spell is a combination of words, gestures, and on rare occasions, physical matter. Not all are necessary. A spell’s outcome is either failure or success. There’s no accidental outcome unless only force of will is applied, which is why this is ill-advised. Magic draws energy from both living and inanimate objects nearby, another way people can be hurt, so spells control and reduce side effects. In addition, the wizard’s strength, skill, and talent determine the power of a successful cast. A staff can assist and protect against catastrophe.”
The elf said, “You must learn to draw on this magical energy to make Soliander’s staff react. We’ll start with bringing light to the orb. The staff’s optional word of power will help and is needed for stronger effects.”
“What’s the word?”
“Enumisar.” At Lorian’s indication, Matt stood the staff on one end, the orb above them.
Lorian advised, “Close your eyes. Reach out with your senses.” The advice continued quietly as Matt searched, sensing nothing at first, but then like a light appearing in the darkness, a warmth glowed nearby. He yearned and it grew stronger, nearer, warmer. His heart pounded with a sudden desire and fear.
“Speak the word of power,” Lorian whispered, watching in approval.
“Enumisar,” Matt intoned. The word echoed in his mind, spreading outward to reach the force, from where a brief flicker washed back over him, making contact. He smiled like a boy getting his first kiss. He looked and saw a soft, yellow glow filling the orb, the faintest flame flickering there.
The elf looked pleased. “Few succeed on the first try. You have made contact, but not enough. Let your will flow. Embrace the touch.”
With Lorian’s endorsement, Matt closed his eyes and again reached into the power, immersing himself in a kind of spiritual energy bath. He grinned and let himself go, casting caution to the wind. “Enumisar!” Matt repeated lustily, his voice hoarse. Suddenly the force rushed into him. A huge fountain of fire erupted from the staff’s crystal with a whoosh, a wave of heat blasting them from above and setting Lorian’s cloak on fire. Matt yelped and rolled away, breaking contact and dropping the staff, the flames dying. Lorian snuffed out the fire on him.
Startled, Matt asked, “Did I do that?”
“You most certainly did.” Lorian looked impressed but concerned. And slightly ruffled.
Awestruck, Matt said, “Wow. That was cool.”
Lorian raised an eyebrow. “On the contrary it was quite hot.”
Matt chuckled at the misunderstanding.
“We must work on your control,” said the elf, sternly.
Chagrined, the young wizard said, “Sorry.” His throat felt parched and his skin seemed dry. Either it was the heat or he’d drawn too much energy from himself.
Lorian licked his dry lips. “Now you understand the need for control, especially with your potential.”
Matt nodded. “Please teach me.”
The elf gestured to the cushion. “Resume your seat.”
As Matt moved to do so, movement caught his eye and Lorian followed his gaze. Something lay smoldering on the floor. They approached to find the robin lying there, feathers singed and smoking. Lorian was about to say something when the robin abruptly turned into a raven. Matt’s eyebrows rose. The bird moved slightly, not quite dead, and soon morphed into a falcon.
Lorian remarked in surprise, “A changeling spy! Your presence here is known.”
Matt stared at the bird, concerned. “Maybe it’s good that it won’t live to tell anyone.”
“An oversight on my part. I apologize.”
“No harm done, I guess.”
“Perhaps,” answered Lorian as the bird stopped moving. “Someone still knows you’re here.”
“But now we know that someone knows, at least.”
“True, but not who.”
The elf called for a messenger to alert the staff but otherwise resumed the lesson as planned. Other elven wizards here could see to the manor’s defense and the incident only strengthened Matt’s resolve to achieve something today.
The instruction continued for several hours with Matt proving an apt and enthusiastic student. Years of analytical thinking from writing software code helped him grasp details and techniques. Finally, Lorian cast two spells on him so he could permanently read elven and magic languages. After Matt commented on wanting to read the spell books, with an eager gleam in his eyes, the elf doused some of the fun by instructing him to memorize two spells for their second session later that afternoon. It would keep him busy and out of trouble.
Eric stood quietly by the door to their rooms, hearing two strange voices just inside, one sounding somehow distant, as if farther away than was possible in their rooms. The other sounded quiet, respectful, but somehow unnerving. Silently stepping to the opening, the rogue cautiously peered inside. A figure in elven clothing stood with its back to him, gazing into a black orb it held aloft. Soliander’s bag of books had been spread about on a table and rifled through. While Eric couldn’t see the figure’s face, the black hair streaked with white was unmistakable.
“I have found the spell books, master,” said the elf respectfully to the orb, where a face hovered. “They appear exactly as you described. Do you wish me to return with them?”
After a pause, a voice replied from the orb. “No. Do
