Avondale (6 page)

“All I know is that I love you.”

Rafe kissed her once more, but it was a hard kiss, his body rigid, his hands holding her away from him. Then he spun away. He heard her sobbing in the darkness, but he forced himself forward. He knew he was doing the right thing, even though it felt completely wrong.

He kept moving forward, making his way toward the nearest exit from the palace. He passed three guards who eyed him suspiciously, but didn’t speak. He hurried out into the cold night air. The nights in Avondale were always cold, regardless of the time of year. The mountain fortress was so high above sea level that the air was cold without the bright sunshine to lend it warmth. Rafe took deep breaths of the cold air, but he couldn’t stop the tears that ran down his face. He cursed his weakness. How could he be a warrior and yet be so weak that a woman could break down his resolve and leave him weeping like a child?

He took his time moving back to the barracks. The officers had a large, well-constructed apartment complex. The units were made of polished stone and covered in thick vines of ivy that rose up to the red tiled roofs. The junior officers and regular soldiers were not so well appointed. The barrack was a large timber structure with rows of plain undecorated rooms. Each room had a dozen men housed inside, with racks for their weapons and chests for the personal effects.

Rafe heard the snoring and the deep breathing before he entered the room. His roommates were all asleep, which was fine with Rafe. He didn’t want anyone asking him questions about his night or why he seemed so distraught. He dropped onto his bunk and pulled off his boots. Lying back, he adjusted the pillow and tried to sleep, but it was impossible. He felt a despair so deep and inescapable that he was sure it would swallow him up.

Everyone at the temple complex was excited. News of the Forkus had spread through the city, and although most of the Priests and Paladins had never seen one of the massive creatures, they all knew Tiberius had. They wanted details and Tiberius felt as if his peers and the Prefects could see right through him. Tiberius was excited too, but not about the Forkus. He could hardly wait to try his first spell, but he also felt exposed. He was doing something wrong; there was no denying that. Even the ancient scriptures decreed that magic was evil and not to be practiced, although Tiberius felt relatively certain that was just a popular interpretation since the cataclysm.

He spent the day studying, and being grilled for details about the attack. There wasn’t much to tell really, and Tiberius didn’t try to exaggerate the tale. The giant creature from the blighted lands below were now the stuff of legends, and even though Avondale was attacked once or twice a year, it was easily the most exciting thing to happen in a long while.

The physical training of the Paladin class was difficult, especially for Tiberius. They were forced to run sprints, maneuver through obstacle courses, and engage in mock battles, both with weapons and hand to hand. Normally, Tiberius dreaded the daily exercises, but he renewed his effort since reading that a wizard needed to be physically strong. He was still clumsy with a sword, but he ran hard and did every exercise exactly as he’d been shown. By the end of the day, he was exhausted, and his mind so consumed with the book of magic that he couldn’t remember any of his lessons from the day.

He bought a bag of fruit and hurried back to the palace. He quickly went through the lessons he’d been given, not caring that most of his work was woefully inadequate. When Robere arrived, Tiberius explained that he had too much work to do to attend the family meal. The aging servant made sure that Tiberius had everything he needed and promised to send up a tray of food. When Robere finally left, Tiberius sagged back in his chair. He had done it, he had endured the long day and somehow not given away the fact that he was about to attempt magic.

He pulled out his dagger from the wardrobe where his clothes were kept, along with the other trappings expected of an Earl’s son. He had a very fine dagger, the hilt was polished brass, the wrapping was soft lambskin, and the blade was polished steel that was engraved with an intricate design. He pulled it from the sheath and tested its blade with his thumb. It was sharp and he couldn’t hide the smile that appeared on his face.

He pulled out an apple from the bag of fruit he’d purchased on his way home from the temple. It was shiny red, firm, and ripe. He sat it on the small table along with the dagger. Then he pulled open the trunk that was kept under his bed. He studied the contents until he was certain nothing had been disturbed. Then he removed the keepsakes he had stored on top of the book fragment. His hands were shaking with excitement when he finally unwrapped the book. He opened it and began to read. He had scanned the chapter on Sana Magus, but now he reread the portion that described the first spell.

The healing arts embody the very best of magic. From simple spells, to more complex incantations, its effects are immediate and visible to all. Nothing brings the uninitiated into a favorable relation with a wizard than to see his fellow man healed.

Magic spells are spoken or chanted in the language of the immortals, for it was with words that the gods created entire worlds. Words are powerful tools in the hands of those trained to use them. But memorizing spells is only the beginning of a wizard’s true power. Words harness the magical power that exists all around us, but just as a harness does not tame a wild horse, so too, the words of the spell do not tame the powerful magic it invokes. A wizard must then will the spell into action with the strength of his mind. The incantation will start the flow of magic, but the wizard’s will guides and directs the magic into the proper channel, or in this case, into the sick or wounded individual he is trying to heal.

We begin with the most basic of spells, healing a simple cut. Sana Magus is effective on any living thing, which makes it both vastly beneficial to the wizard, and easy to practice, since there are many living things other than sick people which may bear the brunt of a novice wizard’s zeal. Take a piece of whole fruit, freshly picked, and slice the skin with a sharp knife. Then, chant the spell out loud, visualizing in your mind’s eye the cut skin of the fruit coming back together.

You will notice that your mind takes on a much greater level of focus as you chant the words. Saying spells out loud isn’t necessary for an experienced wizard, but for a novice, saying the words and hearing them spoken brings the untrained mind into alignment with the magical power you are invoking. Things around you, sights, smells, sounds, activities, should all fall away until all you can see or consider is the fruit. It may help you to continue saying the spell over and over. Eventually, as you master the pronunciation of each spell and become more sensitive to magic, saying each spell a single time will call the power to you and simultaneously focus your mind on the subject of your magic.

If the spell is cast successfully, you should see the fruit’s skin seal up. Once this happens be sure to inspect the fruit for any sign of the original cut. There should be no mark or scar upon the skin of the fruit; likewise, it should not be thick or hardened where the skin was healed. Cut the fruit open and inspect your work. Human or animal skin consists of many, subtle layers and the amount of power, focus, and self-control is much higher. A wizard should be able to heal cuts in fruit easily and without exertion before trying the spell on another person.

Magic takes a toll on the wizard, just as any activity would. The amount of concentration can be taxing at first, and novice wizards must pace themselves as they practice in order to remain in control. Sana Magus is the easiest of all the magical Orders because as creatures, our bodies are made to heal themselves. Many times an individual will recover from sickness all on their own given enough time. Likewise, even grievous injuries can eventually be overcome because of our body’s natural inclinations to function properly. Sana Magus invokes not only the magical power that exists all around us, but the divine spark that each living creature carries. There should be no backlash or carry over from healing spells, as there is in the other Magical Orders, but novice wizards would still be wise to take precautions in their efforts as they begin their practice of the magical arts.

Tiberius leaned back in his chair and looked at the apple that was sitting prominently on his table. It was time to put his newfound knowledge to the test. His heartbeat sped up as he picked up the apple and then the dagger. He was about to do something no one had done in Avondale for over a century. He slid the dagger along the skin of the apple. It was so ripe a bead of juice seeped out and ran down the apple like a teardrop.

He sat the apple down on the table and stared at it. He knew there was no turning back, but he felt a shiver of fear as the words of the spell danced in his head. He closed his eyes, thinking about the words, focusing on the spell. Then he opened his mouth, his lips were dry and his tongue felt thick, but he spoke the words of the spell in a quiet voice, almost a whisper.

“Sano Grasilis Abscido,” he said.

Nothing happened. He opened his eyes and the fruit was just as it had been, the cut in its skin gaping slightly. He felt a sense of foolishness, as if he’d been tricked. The book could be a fake, he thought. It could just all be made up. He fought hard not to let his frustration get the best of him. He decided to try again. The book said a novice might need to chant the spell over and over again.

“Sano grasilis abscido, sano grasilis abscido, sano grasilis abscido…”

At first nothing happened and he began to grow embarrassed. He was alone in his room chanting nonsense words. He didn’t know if it was worse that he was attempting magic, or failing so miserably.

Then, without warning, he felt something. It was intangible, like the warmth from the sun, but just as real. He felt movement around him. He opened his eyes and looked at the apple, but it was just the same as before. He looked around him but there was nothing there. The feeling faded. He sighed in frustration, but then he took a deep breath, stared at the apple, and began chanting again.

This time the feeling of movement happened more quickly. The swirl felt like wind, but it didn’t stir anything in the room, not even his hair. He stared at the apple, imagining the glossy red skin sealing back together. The sense of movement grew stronger. Nothing was happening to the apple, but something was definitely stirring in Ti’s small room. He kept chanting, and the feeling of movement grew so strong it began to push on him. It was like standing in a stream with a strong current. He reached a hand out toward the apple and continued chanting. Slowly the swirling magic around him began to move forward, along his arm. He focused on the apple and repeated the spell, over and over.

Suddenly, the apple toppled over and rolled off the table.

Tiberius jumped from his chair, his heart racing, the wooden chair clattering to the floor behind him. He rushed forward and picked up the apple. There was a bruise on the fruit where it had fallen, but the cut was gone.

“Yes!” he shouted, then remembering himself, he calmed down.

The last thing he wanted was for someone to come check on him. He felt so happy that he instinctively bit into the apple. It was cool and sweet. He picked up his chair and sat down, leaning it back on the rear legs and balancing there. He felt so good he wanted to scream. He had just cast his first spell. He may have broken the most sacred law in the realm, but he had cast a spell. He could do this, he thought to himself. He was on his way to becoming a wizard.

Night was the best time. Anything was possible at night, especially when you were invisible. Lexi wasn’t actually invisible, but she was so comfortable in the darkness and so silent that she was like a ghost in the shadows. It helped that most people didn’t like the darkness. She had long ago grown comfortable in the dark. She could stay hidden most of the night, never moving, her breathing silent, her body completely under her control. Sleep could wait for hours with no need to eat or even move.