Blood & Magic (19 page)

“Can’t believe you didn’t drink,” Tristan said.

“I didn’t need any excuse to fail at all this,” Henry said.

“I don’t know my dear, perhaps a bit of drink would help. It can’t make you any worse,” Ruth said.

Thanks Ruth, a real vote of confidence.

After hours spent reading up on magus, Henry had gone to dinner with Tristan and Gabriel. The evening ended up at the Two Gates Club, which was pretty much how he remembered it, if the music was a little louder. Byron had spotted him and had tried to engage in conversation, but seemed preoccupied chatting up a blonde woman at his table. Henry imagined she wouldn’t last long against Byron’s charms, he was a man who always got what he wanted and if she made the mistake of trusting him, she would regret it. He had chosen not to drink, instead he listened to the stories of Gabriel and Tristan, as they became ever more inebriated, in a vain hope of gleaning some useful information. Of course, drink leads two ways in conversation, exposition or hogwash, and unfortunately it was the latter that took hold in Henry’s companions.

Strike training without music went as predicted. They had been practising for two hours when Tristan stopped, shouting in frustration.

“How can you be so useless? Your father was a brilliant Inquisitor, but I cannot see you surviving more than a week, if you are lucky. As the physical side of things is beyond you, let us move on to something else. I am going to show you how to use your power, did you bring your equipment?”

“Yes,” Henry said sheepishly, pointing to the metal briefcase by his jacket.

“Get it then, you should equip yourself at all times.”

Henry put on the equipment Rosalyn had given him. The gun, currently in its collapsed form, went in the holster under his left arm, above the multitool. Under the other arm, he placed the extendable baton and stunner, all strapped to the harness that would usually be covered by his jacket. Last, Henry placed the wristband on, the magnetic clasp closing with a pleasing click as the display lit up.

“Switch that to magus detection,” Tristan said.

“How do I do that?” Henry said.

Tristan huffed, indicating how to switch the display. Henry did so and the thin screen changed to a block of bright blue.

“This detects what magus power you are currently channelling. At the moment it is blue, which is?” Tristan said.

“Vis, or force,” Henry said.

“Exactly.”

Tristan paced across the catwalk, pulling a series of targets from a cupboard and lining them up against the back wall. Walking back to Henry, he peeled back his jumper cuff, revealing a band on his own wrist.

“Inks have access to all the five charms and, as you should already know, one of these charms is the ability to switch between the fives powers at will. What are the five powers?” Tristan said.

“Viva, Corpus, Vis, Navitas and, erm… Cogitatio.”

“And the corresponding colours?”

“Erm… Green… red… blue, yellow and purple.”

As Henry finished, Tristan altered his current power and the band on his wrist swapped between the five colours.

“Awesome,” Henry said.

“To switch, visualise a wheel, split into five segments, each a different colour. Your present power is like a dial that sits at the centre and points to a single area of magus. To jump between them, the dial has to pass through the corresponding sections, for example you can’t jump to force from life without going via physical, or conversely going through mental and then energy. Do you understand?” Tristan said.

Henry held out his arm and imagined the dial Tristan described. He pictured it moving from blue, where he currently was, to yellow. Just one step. Swing. Please swing. In his mind, the damn thing wouldn’t move, but that didn’t make sense. This was just a mental image, it should be doing whatever he told it to do.

“It’s not working,” Henry said.

“Have you tried?”

“Of course I bloody tried.”

“Try again.”

Henry attempted to manipulate the image in his mind, but it wouldn’t budge.

“It isn’t working.”

Tristan clenched his fist and let out a long breath.

“We don’t have time to get stuck on this.”

“I'm sorry, I just-”

“You are stuck on your default power, so why don’t we have a go at using it?”

“Okay, I’ll work on the dial thing.”

“Can you shut up? I am trying to give a lesson.”

Tristan handed Henry a leather bound book, the edges of the pages coloured in strips, which Henry took to represent the five powers. Henry flicked to the first page of the blue section and at first glance, the words on the page looked like a five year old’s attempted to copy out War and Peace. As Henry continued to stare at them however, they began to rearrange themselves, the ink lettering twisting into recognisable characters.

“This book was your fathers and belongs to your family line. It represents the
spells
that trigger magus in you. You’ll notice the words initially look to be written in gibberish, but that is intentional. Every family has a hand that is only distinguishable to those who remember it,” Tristan said.

Prima sunt quae operiebant incantatores simplicissima est, qui ingenio, vis ipsa, superstruitur. Hoc facito, varias esse simplex dis 'Magus convertendo oportet.

“Okay, guessing any word will do?” Henry said. “How do I-”

“Any word
will not
do. Look for one that will propel force. I take it you have kept up with your Latin?”

Henry hadn’t. In fact, the caption made very little sense to him. In the side column of the page however, Henry spotted the word ‘praeliabitur’ scribbled in black spidery handwriting. If he wasn’t mistaken, it meant ‘to push.’

“The process is simple, focus on the word in your mind and then project your energy outward. I was taught this method which might help. Tighten the muscles in your shoulder, and then move the tension down your arm until you feel it in your hand, moving through each muscle group. Visualise the power leaving your hand and travelling outward in a straight line. At the same time focus on the word, say it if it helps.”

Henry stretched out his hand towards the target and took a deep breath.

“
Praeliabitur
,” Henry said.

He did the visualisation exercise, his arm shaking from the strain, but nothing happened.

“Did you focus?” Tristan said.

“Yes.”

“Do you need me to fetch you an iPod to help you along?”

“Oh shut up.”

Tristan sniggered and folded his arms.

“I’ll try again,” Henry said.

He stretched his arm out and took another breath.

“
Praeliabitur
,” Henry said, this time with as much theatrical undertone as possible.

Again, nothing happened. For Gods sake, why couldn’t one of these abilities come naturally to him.

“What am I doing wrong? I am sure I have done this stuff by accident before,” Henry said.

“How about a demonstration?” Tristan said.

Tristan moved in front of Henry and raised his arm so that his outstretched palm was aimed at the targets across the room. Turning his head to Henry, he gave a broad smile.

“
Scufan
,” Tristan said.

A pulse of air radiated from his hand and travelled the length of the catwalk. It collided with the target sending it tumbling across the floor in a puff of dust. The colour on Tristan's band changed, so that it now glowed yellow.

“
Hlynrian
.”

As he finished the last word, bolts of blue electricity collected in his hand, before catapulting across the room like a bullet. It crashed into the second target, tendrils of lightening swarming around it. Tristan took another step forward.

“
Aeledfýr
.”

Fire spun around his arm, like a snake coiled around the limb, ready to strike. He flicked his arm and the stream of fire shot at the target, setting it ablaze.

“
Smyltnes
.”

The fire instantly went out, leaving the charred target loosely hanging from its support. He uttered another word and the target he had first knocked over rose from the ground, coming gently to a rest upright.

“Show-off,” Henry said.

“Your turn,” Tristan said, an eyebrow raised.

Henry repeated the process, focusing on every step Tristan had said. He felt the energy move through his body, welling in his hand.

“
Praeliabitur
,” Henry said.

Henry thought he saw the target sway a tiny amount, but that could have been wishful thinking.

Maybe he was better trying the technique Meyer had taught him. He focused on the feeling in his chest, letting it build until there was a tightness that was almost painful. Henry imagined it as a blue orb of energy, the power of force, welling up inside him. He used Tristan's tension advice to move the ball down to his arm, retaining the strain in his muscles while keeping the energy visible in his mind.

“
Praeliabitur!
” Henry shouted.

He opened his eyes as a slight ripple disturbed the air, colliding with the target. It leant back, the front of the square block leaving the floor, before it rocked forwards, gently coming to a rest a moment later.

“It worked,” Henry said, ecstatic with his small achievement.

“
Again
.”

They repeated the task until Tristan’s patience wore out and they broke for lunch. During the entirety of the meal, Henry continued to practice the ability to switch between the powers, but he couldn’t get the damn thing to change from blue. Maybe his gadget was broken, but he doubted it. Focus on the wheel, move the wheel, focus on the wheel, move the wheel. It refused to change.

Henry had taken two mouthfuls of food when Meyer appeared at the door to the dining hall. There was a bruise to his face and his expression drooped as he caught Ruth’s eye. She ran across to him and the pair left the room temporarily, before returning five minutes later. The bruise was gone.

“Boy,” Meyer hollered.

He should really be used to it now, but to Henry, being called ‘Boy’ still felt very odd. It wasn’t worth the energy to ask if he could finish lunch first, so Henry followed Meyer outside.

“What happened to your face?” Henry said.

“How did your studies go this morning?” Meyer said, ignoring him.

“Not well.”

“It will come boy, it will come. Unfortunately you are, this instant, to be presented to the council. Do you remember my advice?”

“Now? Don't we have chance to train some more, I'm not ready.”

“My advice?”

“Don’t break?”

“Exactly. Don't break and you will be fine, trust me.”

Meyer led Henry down the marble staircase to the ground floor, and then around the back of them. As they moved across, another set of stairs became visible. He stopped for a second and, taking a step back, watched the stairs disappear. It was like a 3D effect picture that only reveals certain parts from the right angle, God this magic thing was awesome.

They moved round a corridor on the basement level and into a large sitting area with a solemn pair of black doors to one side. Meyer went in first and Henry followed him.

“In the centre boy, good luck,” Meyer said.

The room was filled by a doughnut shaped table, a small gap in it allowed Henry to walk into the centre. Around him, he could make out the rough outlines of men and women seated around the table, their features lost in the shadow, the light from the skylight making it difficult for him to see anything.

“Good afternoon Henry,” said a voice from straight ahead, it was Wade.

“Good afternoon,” Henry said.

Meyer had taken a seat around the table, his rotund silhouette not difficult to discern even in the poor light.

“Do you know why you are here?” Wade said.

“To be sworn in.”

“Indeed, but first there are some basic questions you must answer, it is part of tradition. Master Ione.”

He indicated to a woman to his left. Henry could just make her out, although her exact features were lost to him. She was Chinese, her bone structure delicate, and she sat with an element of grace Henry had never seen before, poised in her seat as if hovering slightly above it.

“I am Ione, Doyen of Viva. My question for you Henry is, what are the three abilities of an alternate?” she said, her voice calm and as graceful as her form.

“Alternates are gifted with genetic memory, a power and a charm,” Henry said.

“Good and what makes an Ink different?” Ione said.

“We can switch between the charms and induce the glimmer in others.”

“And what can you tell me about the power I am master of?”

“Those with the Viva power, of the Vitalists as they are known, can manipulate life energy itself. For example, increasing it via their healing ability or taking it away, as a Vampiris does.”

“What are the two hybrid types that utilise Viva?”

“The Dragos, which combine Life and Physical abilities. They have an extra mutation which allows them to reduce the pain they feel, but they can be ruthless and are not always very empathetical. The other type is Vampiris, they drain life from others to revive themselves and, as their extra mutation, they are incredibly quick. The Vampiris are a mixture of Life and Mentalism powers.”

“That is correct Henry. One last question from me. What does it mean to live?”

It seemed a bit of an odd question, Henry was unsure of exactly how to answer it.

“Biologically?”

Ione didn't answer, in fact, she didn't move at all.

“To live from a biological sense, is to exist as a living organism, but I don't think that is what you are asking. To live is to do more than exist, to take charge of the world around you, to be the master of your own destiny,” Henry said.

He wasn't sure where that answer came from but, as Ione smiled, he thought it was probably a fair reply to the question.

“Master Niamh,” Wade said.

“Henry, I am Master Niamh, Doyen of Navitas. What can you tell me about
my
power?”

Her voice was posh and if Henry was honest, quite sexy. Henry found himself focusing on her lips which naturally parted slightly. Her eyes were huge and, even in the dark, Henry could see the slight shimmer of gold in them from her power.