Elemental Magic: All-New Tales of the Elemental Masters (10 page)

I woke suddenly, remembering something Father had said when he first started teaching us. There were four elements; he had mentioned that briefly before concentrating exclusively on Fire. The other three were Earth, Air, and Water,
which was Fire’s opposite!
So an anti-Fire Magician would be . . . a Water Magician. If I were a Water Magician, no Fire Magician could teach me properly. That might be why I couldn’t learn anything from Father!

It was just dawn, and nobody was around to stop me. I dressed quickly, slipped quietly out of the house, and almost ran to the pond in the garden. I knelt next to it and cautiously dipped one hand into the water while trying to think friendly thoughts. The water rippled as the creatures swam to me. “Hullo,” I said tentatively. “Can you answer me something? Am I a Water Magician?”

The water in the pond positively churned as the creatures started rolling about, hooting with laughter. “Answer me!” I snapped.

The laughter stopped instantly, and every face turned toward me. “Yes, Master,” they chorused.

Ooops. Did I just
command
them?
I forced a smile. “Very well. You can go back to laughing at me now, if you wish.” There were a lot of smiles, along with just a few giggles, as most of the creatures vanished into the water.

I need to talk to somebody. Not Father, though. Maybe Father Pearce?
That reminded me about the water at church. Somebody should do something about that. Actually somebody should have done something about that yesterday—or even earlier. I headed for the church.

The doors were unlocked, and Father Pearce was leading Morning Prayer. I hadn’t realized I’d spent that much time at the pond. I knelt in a pew at the back of the nave, lost in my own thoughts.
I am a Water Magician.
I wasn’t a miserable failure who couldn’t learn even the simplest things; I had been trying to learn to master the
wrong element
. I was different from Father and El. Much as I loved them, I wasn’t like them. And it would be a waste of the gift God had given me to try to be.

I did not want to be a disappointment to Father—although I suspected that was unavoidable—but I realized that I didn’t want to be like him either. For all the love and respect I had for him, it had not escaped my notice that he was quick-tempered (probably a Fire trait, because El was too) and arrogant, and those were not things I admired or wanted to see in myself. I didn’t want to grow up to be the man Father was.
I need a different teacher.

The small congregation had left, and Father Pearce stood next to my pew. “Albert? Is something wrong?”

“The water,” I blurted out. My thoughts were still too chaotic to be put into coherent sentences. I felt as if my world had been turned upside down and backwards. In a way, I guess it had. “Yesterday. The water in the cruet was bad.”

Father Pearce nodded. “Yes, it was,” he said. “I went to the well last evening and cleaned it.”

“Are you—?”

“I’m a Water Adept,” he said quietly. He smiled. “I’ve been wondering how long it would take you to come to me.”

I took a deep breath. “Can you teach me?” I asked.

He nodded. “Yes, Albert; I can. I’ll be happy to teach you.”

“And I’ll be happy to learn from you.” I knew that Father Pearce could teach me what I wanted to learn: not just how to use Water Magic, but also how to grow up to be the man I wanted to be.

For the Sake of Clarity

Cedric Johnson

There was nothing special about the town of Forest City. The entire span of the Rocky Mountains was dotted with such mining towns, and Colorado had its fair share. Nestled into a small pass and miles from anything resembling a real city, Forest City was like every other town created by the rush for gold and silver. A railroad line had been laid to bring people in from far and wide, as well as to haul away the wealth pried from the earth. With people came the buildings, and Forest City had its general store, its town hall, a hotel, telegraph and newspaper offices, a school, dance halls and, of course, saloons.

There was nothing special about Forest City.

There was, however, something special about Thaddeus Wohltat—though few people knew it, and fewer still admitted it. For all appearances, he was a simple man fallen on hard times. Thaddeus had been meandering up and down the main street for most of the day without purpose. He was, in fact, simply killing time.

But as the afternoon steadily turned into evening, the air grew colder still and eventually Thaddeus wanted out of the cold. He found himself next to a single-story wooden building with a simple sign that bore the single word,
SALOON
, to which he started walking.

“Perfect,” he said as he walked toward it, wrapping his threadbare coat tight around himself. “A no-name establishment for a no-name magician.”

*   *   *

The saloon had few patrons this early in the evening. Most of the town’s miners were either still working, sleeping, or at other establishments. Not counting the man behind the bar, Thaddeus made the number an even half-dozen. No one made note of this, or paid him any attention. The bartender spared him a brief glance of acknowledgment and went back to cleaning glasses.

Thaddeus paused in the doorway for a moment. Even though he had no friends or acquaintances in this town, he’d come to expect at least a casual greeting from the other establishments. The almost complete lack of reception made him feel entirely unwelcome. But the feeling soon passed as he continued to be ignored. Thaddeus relaxed and walked to the bar, choosing a stool that was a comfortable distance from the other patrons, but close enough to get the bartender’s attention.

“What can I get you?” asked the bartender, still focused on his cleaning.

Thaddeus looked up at the collected bottles of liquor along the wall behind the bar. He wasn’t one that partook in alcohol very often—better to have a clear head in case a need for magic ever arose, was his thinking—so he really didn’t know what to ask for even if he was in a position to be choosy. It was all brown water to him.

He reached into a pocket of his coat, dug out the small handful of coins he had left and placed them on the bar. “Whatever this will get me,” said Thaddeus.

“That’d get you a swift kick out the door in most places,” said the bartender, not bothering to keep the sneer out of his voice. “It’s not going to get you much more around here, either.”

Thaddeus let out a quiet sigh, but managed to keep any expression off his face. “You are absolutely right, sir,” he replied. “I should have expected no less nor any more than that.” He stood up and managed to give the bartender a faint yet cordial smile. “You may keep it anyway, my good man. I have no need of it any longer.”

Thaddeus turned and walked toward the door without a second thought. But something about their encounter, something about the man’s bearing and demeanor, had apparently struck a chord of sympathy with the old bartender and made him call out to Thaddeus as he reached the door.

“Come, sir. Have yourself a drink. It’s to be a cold night, by all the signs. Stay a while and fortify yourself against it before departing.”

Thaddeus paused with his hand on the door, turned and looked back at the bartender warily. But the old man was good to his word, and drew a beer that he placed on the counter with a genuine smile. He glanced at the other patrons, but none showed any sign that this was some sort of prank—or moved for that matter.

Still a bit cautious, Thaddeus returned to the bar and sat again. The beer was waiting there in front of him, the coins he had left on the bar untouched. He left them alone, to show he wasn’t taking advantage of this strange generosity. It was a drink bought and paid for, after all.

“Thank you, good sir,” said Thaddeus, taking the beer and sipping it. As far as he could tell, it was simply beer, with nothing added to it to insult or harm him. “Though forgive my asking, and my curiosity. Why the change of heart?”

The bartender shrugged. “Nothing in particular, sir. Sometimes you meet a man, and the first thing you do is despise him, often with no good reason. And out here, even in this new age, a man can’t be too careful of strangers.”

A shot glass appeared next to the beer, filled with what Thaddeus could only guess to be whiskey. “And you, sir, you appear to be the good sort of chap after all,” the bartender continued. “A bit down on your luck, perhaps, but that’s nothing new out here. I would like to hear your story. Call it curiosity.”

Thaddeus had recovered from his initial shock and had relaxed a bit. Taking another sip of beer, he said, “I’m not really sure where to begin . . .”

“You could start with your name.”

Thaddeus chuckled. “Fair enough. Thaddeus Wohltat, at your service. Though I doubt I could provide you much service these days. Originally from Philadelphia, I came here to Colorado to make my fortune. What came after that, you’ve likely heard many times. Fickle investors, unscrupulous partners, and claim jumpers have left me with nothing but the coins on your bar and a train ticket back to Philadelphia.”

Thaddeus paused and ventured to take a sip of the whiskey. It burned, but not in an altogether unpleasant way. “After tomorrow, I’ll have neither of those. I’ll return home and, if any luck remains with me after this, return to work at my old profession.”

“And what might that be?” asked the bartender.

“A magician,” answered Thaddeus quietly. “Earth Magician.”

Those four words did what his entrance and the bartender’s generosity completely failed to do; the other patrons stirred and murmured, two of them getting up and leaving the saloon entirely. Thaddeus couldn’t help but notice the disturbance, and glanced up at the bartender to see if the old man’s generosity would vanish as quickly as it had appeared.

The bartender’s next words were cautious, but not hostile. “Don’t get many of your kind around here, these days.”

Thaddeus nodded carefully. “Indeed, fewer choose to follow the path of magic with every passing year. I’m certainly not the first seeking to find his fortune by locating and collecting the elements of the earth. Magicians are not immune to the desire for wealth, after all.”

“And you thought Colorado could use another Elemental Master, did you?” asked the bartender sourly.

Thaddeus shook his head. “Oh, I’m no Master. Not by any stretch of the imagination. I know the ways of only a few spells. I managed to conjure an Elemental only once, a very small one, and even then could not control it and had to beg my colleagues to unbind it for me. A total disaster, that was.”

Thaddeus threw caution to the wind and drank down the entire shot of whiskey. “And my one talent,” he continued in a raspy voice, “the one thing I am good at, that I thought could help me find my fortune . . . worthless. No one cares. Gold and silver, that’s all these people care about. All the wonders of the earth, and that’s all they want. Gold and silver. Bah!”

“What would that be?” asked the bartender, his curiosity getting the better of him, “Your talent, that is.”

“Quartz.”

“Beg your pardon?”

Thaddeus took a deep breath and looked the old man unsteadily. “Quartz, my good man. I have the ability to sense, locate and identify any type and quality of quartz. No other magician in living memory has made that claim!” He took a long sip of his beer and muttered, “Of course, now I have a pretty good idea why no one has . . .”

The bartender looked a bit confused. “Yeah, no wonder you went broke. Why would anyone want the stuff?”

“WHY WOULD—” Thaddeus coughed and flustered. “It has plenty of uses! Quartz can harness the energy of the earth for use in a multitude of spells of any element. And it has uses for ordinary folk, as well. It is used for fine jewelry, cut crystals in many colors of the rainbow.” He pointed a slightly unsteady finger at the bartender. “And did you know . . . they’re even using it in the latest phonographs!”

The bartender raised an eyebrow. “I’ll take your word for it, sir,” he said, pulling away the empty shot glass and barely touched beer. After a moment’s pause, he added, “So that’s really it for you, then? Giving up this search for your fortune in quartz, not doing any more of your magic in these parts?”

Thaddeus nodded. “Completely done, old boy. Come this time tomorrow, I’ll have nothing left of Colorado but the dust on my clothes. I’ll have said farewell to the Rocky Mountains.”

There was a lengthy pause after this proclamation. The bartender broke the silence by refilling the shot glass, drawing a fresh beer and sliding both in front of Thaddeus. There was an unusually large smile on the old man’s face as he said, “All the best to you then, Thaddeus Wohltat. Here’s to leaving nothing but memories that’ll fade, and to magicians who know where their place in this world is.”

*   *   *

When Thaddeus awoke, it was with a sudden jolt that had him sitting upright in his seat without a hint of grogginess. He didn’t know what caused it. There was nothing he could recall dreaming that would have startled him, and there was no danger from his surroundings. In fact, he was completely alone in the saloon he’d wandered into the evening before.

Thinking back, he tried to recall exactly how much he’d had to drink. It wasn’t enough to cause him any discomfort, but obviously enough to make him unable to find a proper bed. He was also aware that he had other matters to attend to that were more important. Namely, he had a train to catch, and he had no idea what time it was.

Thaddeus stood up and made a tidy pile of the bottles and papers scattered around him on the bar as a small courtesy to the owner. Making his way outside, he looked up and saw that the sun had only just cleared the mountains. Thaddeus was relieved that he hadn’t lost much of the morning. Still, he wasted no time in wrapping his thin coat tightly around him to ward off the morning chill and walking briskly toward the train station.

Even though the town was small, it still took Thaddeus a few minutes to reach the station, as it was almost on the opposite end from the saloon. As he arrived, it was clear that there were no trains there. He didn’t know if this meant he was early or late, since there were no clocks to be seen. He approached the ticket booth and cleared his throat to get the clerk’s attention.

“Beg your pardon sir, do you have the time?”

The clerk glanced up from his newspaper. “Haven’t you got a watch?”

Thaddeus sighed. “I do, but at the moment it’s at a pawn shop in Buena Vista. So it doesn’t do me much good.”

The clerk scoffed and returned to his paper. “Quarter past nine,” he said, paying Thaddeus no more attention.

Thaddeus’ shoulders slumped. He had missed his train after all. “I don’t suppose there’s any chance the #34 to Denver is running late this morning?” he asked.

“Train arrived and left spot on time, sir,” answered a new voice behind him.

Thaddeus turned around and tried to look less startled than he was. The rugged man needed no introduction; the brass star pinned to his chest said it all. That alone wasn’t what startled Thaddeus. It was the fact that the sheriff’s hand was resting on the grip of his pistol, ready to draw.

“If you had been on it, there’d be a heap of trouble going down the telegraph line and waiting for you at the next stop.”

Thaddeus blinked and found it hard to swallow. “What trouble have I caused, sheriff?” he asked nervously. “I can’t recall anything I’ve done against the law . . .”

The sheriff shook his head and replied, “You haven’t done anything yet. But if you were on that train, you would have. It means you would have left town with an outstanding debt, and although that might not mean much to you city folk, it means quite a bit out here.”

“N-no . . .” stammered Thaddeus, “I get the meaning, and I’ve done everything I can to settle my accounts before leaving. I’m just at a loss as to whom I owe, sir.”

“The saloon keeper you just left,” answered the sheriff, “Seems you had quite a bit last night. I take it that you didn’t bother to read the bill he left you.”

“I—I—” Thaddeus stammered again. It seemed the bartender’s generosity was only a show. He couldn’t recall being told that he had to pay for his drinks. There had been several papers on the bar when he awoke, and it was true he hadn’t stopped to read any of them. He simply wanted to make his train and be on his way home.

“I can make good on my bill,” he said. “I just need to contact a few people first.”

The sheriff stared at Thaddeus. It wasn’t a cold stare, but it certainly didn’t have any warmth in it either. “See that you do, Mr. Wohltat. And don’t stray far from town. If you haven’t settled by sundown, you’ll be spending the next several nights in a cell. Just something for you to keep in mind.”

Thaddeus smiled as best he could and nodded to the sheriff. The smile vanished as soon as the other man was out of sight, replaced by mild panic. Thaddeus had told the lawman a complete lie. There was no one in the entire state who would give him any more money. He wasn’t even all that sure there were any on the East Coast, either.

He walked away from the train station and, like the day before, paced up and down the streets of Forest City. Every name he could think of, every claim partner he’d lost, none of them would help him out. He was sure of that.

Thaddeus found himself at the end of a road heading north into the wooded mountains. “Fitting,” he said, though there was no one there to hear him.

As he stood there, cold and alone, an answer came to him almost like a revelation. If anyone had seen the smile that crept back onto his face, they would have said it was a bit of a crazy one. Looking out at the snow covered peaks, then back at the town, and then back at the mountains, it became clear in his mind what it was he had to do.