Authors: Ann Macela
Tags: #General, #Fiction, #Fantasy, #Paranormal, #Romance, #Suspense
Wild Magic (17 page)
“She’s developed a theory,” Whipple, interjected, “that Bruce Ubell—we are assuming he has the rest of the Stone—was using his piece somehow, but it wasn’t out in the open like Alton’s when she felt the first vibrations. She thinks you tuned in to his casting, as it were.”
“Ubell himself wasn’t protected?”
“Evidently not enough.”
“Is the sensitivity distance-based?” Jim asked.
“It depends primarily on the strengths of the Defender, the item, and the shielding. Distance can, however, play a role,” Whipple answered. “Are you getting a hunch about it?”
“No,” Jim said. “I’m simply using common sense. My place isn’t very far from the Finster house. Ubell’s staying there. Since I seem to be sensitive to magic, maybe I picked it up.”
“Not knowing what to do with the information, your mind must have translated it into a dream,” Irenee suggested.
Whipple rubbed his hands together and gave them both a huge grin. “This gets better and better, doesn’t it?”
“Depending on your point of view,” Jim stated dryly.
“You’re probably feeling rushed, aren’t you?” Whipple said.
“That’s putting it mildly”
“Understandable, but unavoidable,” the wizard continued. “Ubell is not giving you time to become comfortable with the idea of being a practitioner. We, however, need to protect you as soon as we can. If it’s any consolation, he’s pushing us also. We need to take care of his Stone quickly.”
“It doesn’t look like we’re going to distract him by arresting him soon, either,” Jim said with a grimace. “Sabelwas correct about those financials I copied. They’re giving the forensic accountants fits—all the names are in code, and some of the info and figures seem to change from day to day and when printed out. The computer guys are looking for hidden files and programming causing the changes. The head of the task force doesn’t want to move until we have firm numbers.”
“Are you getting anywhere with the more overt crimes?”
“We’re still investigating the drug and weapons dealings, of course. It looks like business is slow at the moment on the drug side. No product is being moved on the street at all. The weapons guys thought they had a buy going down soon. All of a sudden, it was called off. Everything’s changing on the bad guys’ side, too.”
“Not surprising with Alton in the hospital so suddenly,” Irenee said. “Bruce has a lot to contend with on legitimate Finster Shipping activities, let alone the illegal ones.”
“Yeah, I agree,” Jim agreed. “My boss let me take a couple of days of personal time while the accountants and geeks work and since I’m not part of the group on the weapons activities. So I have a little time to try out whatever you’re going to teach me.”
“Excellent!” Whipple rubbed his hands together and grinned. “Let’s get you started. Irenee, you begin with the basics.”
“Okay,” she answered, looking so earnest and serious that Jim almost smiled. Then he remembered what he was there for—
magic
—and the area under his breastbone vibrated like it could hardly wait to get moving.
magic
—and the area under his breastbone vibrated like it could hardly wait to get moving.
“First of all, you’ve had overnight to think. Do you believe us? You probably are a practitioner?” she asked.
“I believe you think I am,” he answered, “and I’m willing to try hard to do what you want me to. I myself need to see more tangible proof to be truly convinced.”
“A fair answer,” Whipple said.
“There are three determining factors in casting a spell,” Irenee stated. “Your personal magical energy, your particular talent, and the exact spell you’re casting. We use our internal energy, the magic power within us, to cause something to happen. Oh, energy and power are interchangeable terms, by the way. You’re born with a certain amount of energy and the potential to reach a specific level of ability. Your energy amount and ability level are set and do not normally change. This rule has one general and at least one specific exception, but we won’t bother with them at the moment.”
“That’s what you were replenishing with that meal last night—this inner energy,” Jim said.
“Correct. Second is your particular talent. You have the capability to cast spells only belonging to your talent. For example, I can cast organizing spells, Fergus can cast spells relating to veterinary medicine, and my dad casts ones to do with economics. I can’t cast either of their spells because I don’t have the talent. Are you with me so far?”
“Yeah, I think so. How do you learn what your energy and level are?” Jim asked.
“We’ll get an approximation of those with a spell you’re going to learn today—one of the universal spells everybody can cast,” Irenee answered. “The third factor is the individual spell itself. Spells have levels, degrees of difficulty. Higher level spells are more complicated and require more energy from the caster. If I’m a level-five in power and an auto mechanic, I can cast only mechanic spells up to and including level-five ones, but I can’t cast a level six.”
“So, everybody specializes and has limits,” Jim said, “and your abilities as Swords are on top of those talents.”
“Yes,” Whipple said, “and we’ll cover those later.”
“There’s also the matter of practice,” Irenee continued. “We aren’t called ‘practitioners’ for nothing. We must practice and practice. Using your powers builds stamina and expertise. You have to build up your ‘magic muscle,’ so to speak. Every time you cast a spell, you deplete your energy reserve residing in your magic center. Low-level practitioners have less energy to use than the higher ones. Or, to put it another way, it costs more of your total energy to cast the same spell if you’re a low level than if you’re a high one. Practice helps you make more efficient use of your energy, however much you have.”
“It’s like sports, then. Exercise to increase your muscles and extend your range and endurance. Practice to increase your skill.” Jim nodded. “Okay, I get it.”
“The present emergency notwithstanding,” Whipple said, “it’s vitally important you, a wild talent, learn to handle your power. Untrained practitioners are menaces to everyone. They will use magic without even realizing it, or they will sense the magic inside them and be unable to come to terms with it. You seem to have escaped this latter fate, which can lead to mental imbalance and worse. Okay, what do you say? Shall we try a spell?”
Although Jim felt distinctly uncomfortable, he knew he couldn’t back out now. He had promised to try. What the hell, it might be fun. His center grew warm and seemed to be laughing at his last thought. All he let himself say was, “Yeah, I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.”
“Good. You’re going to try two spells, the first spells novices formally cast before masters to prove they are indeed practitioners. Note that we’re not going to teach you the spell—you’re going to cast it on your own,” the big wizard said.
“Remember, magic is all about using energy. In the first spell, lighting and extinguishing a candle, you have to place energy accurately in a short burst. The second, a light spell, involves harnessing energy, placing it somewhere, sustaining it, moving it, and then dispelling it. We’ll start with lighting a candle.”
Irenee took up the explanation. “Casting spells can be highly individualized. Not all practitioners cast lower level spells exactly the same way, because these spells don’t require the preciseness of higher level ones.”
She pointed at the line of candles. “There are several ways to light a candle, for instance. The point of the spell is to deliver, shoot, present, throw, transfer, however you want to think of it, a tiny bit of hot energy right on the wick of the candle. Practitioners usually have their personal ways of bringing off their spells. There is no prescribed hand or body movement for this spell.”
She lifted her hand from the chair arm. “You may choose to use a gesture.”
She pointed, and one of the candles suddenly started burning. “Or not...” She glanced at it and it went out.
“Whoops, almost forgot...” She waved a hand at the candles in the wall sconces, and they flamed as she rose and turned off the electric lights at the switch by the door. The electric light fixtures slid into recesses in the wall. “Magic can be hard on lightbulbs and electrical circuits.”
“The name of the spell is
flamma,”
Whipple continued. “My students have had the most casting success if they move a tiny hot spark from their energy center to the wick or they coalesce a small hot bit of energy right on the wick. A few have pictured the flame in their mind’s eye and transferred this visualization to the candle. Some find it helpful to say the word
flamma
out loud or in their minds to trigger ignition. We want you to try it, using whatever method or methods you can think of.” He waved a go-ahead gesture at Jim.
flamma,”
Whipple continued. “My students have had the most casting success if they move a tiny hot spark from their energy center to the wick or they coalesce a small hot bit of energy right on the wick. A few have pictured the flame in their mind’s eye and transferred this visualization to the candle. Some find it helpful to say the word
flamma
out loud or in their minds to trigger ignition. We want you to try it, using whatever method or methods you can think of.” He waved a go-ahead gesture at Jim.
Jim squirmed slightly on the chair, leaning forward with his elbows on the chair arms. He glanced from one to the other of his companions. Clearing his throat, he said, “I really feel weird about this, you know.”
“You don’t ever have to worry about embarrassing yourself with us,” Whipple answered. “Just relax and concentrate.”
Jim sighed, sat back, and looked hard at the candle directly in front of him. He still wasn’t completely sure he believed in all the hocus-pocus, but the evidence was mount ing, and he wouldn’t know unless he tried. Therefore, he concentrated—man, did he concentrate—right on the wick of the candle directly before his chair. After a few minutes, it was clear his staring at the wick did absolutely nothing.
Wait a minute. Irenee didn’t say to stare, she said to send energy somehow. He pictured throwing a little baseball of something—energy? heat?—at the wick. Nothing.
He created a flame in his mind and moved it out to the candle, mentally settling it right over the wick. Nothing again.
He shot the wick with a movement of his hand like a kid playing cowboy. Still nothing.
He pictured having a flame on the end of a long matchstick and touching the wick with it. Ditto.
He used Fergus’s suggestion of a tiny hot spark. Cold. Not even a whiff of smoke. He couldn’t bring himself to say the spell word out loud.
He looked again at the two practitioners and shrugged.
“Don’t stop,” Irenee encouraged. “The glyphs on your robe are sparkling, so something’s happening with your energy”
Jim shifted in his chair, sitting upright, hands gripping the chair arms, eyes unfocused. He started thinking about energy as a tangible thing that could be shaped, compressed, heated, chilled, that came from inside him, that could be given force and substance. What had they said last night when he thought his stomach was going to explode? His magic center had come to consciousness?
He took a long, slow breath and imagined the source for the energy right in his middle, lying under his breastbone, next to his heart. He concentrated on the spot, turning his mind inward, losing contact with the rest of his body.
And he felt the “new organ” he’d grown last night stirring, expanding, gathering energy from his cells. It grew warmer, then hot, and flnally ...
Delight, exhilaration, and a deep satisfaction exploded through his nerves like molten silver, and they left in their wake an enormous sense of sheer
power
.
power
.
Yes!
The unspoken word roared in his head. He
could do this!
The unspoken word roared in his head. He
could do this!
He focused his eyes, framed the spell word in his mind, and shot a glance at the wick on a candle in the middle of the row.
The wick exploded in a two-foot tower of red and yellow flame, and the entire twelve-inch candle dissolved into a puddle of wax overflowing its slightly warped holder.
“Scale it back a little.” Whipple’s voice was low, barely audible.
Jim struggled with his internal bonfire, tamped it down some, and flicked his gaze at a new target.
The second candle ignited, melting only half of its length, but it remained burning.
“Again,” Whipple, rumbled.
Frowning at the difficulty of control, Jim closed his eyes briefly, then opened them in a slit he hoped would reduce the
what
, muzzle velocity? He looked carefully at the next candle in line.
what
, muzzle velocity? He looked carefully at the next candle in line.
The wick caught perfectly, exactly as though he had held a match to it.
“All right!” Jim said under his breath. He had the idea now. In swift succession, he lit the remaining candles. Before he turned in triumph to his two teachers, he shut his eyes and asked, “Okay, if I look at anything or anybody else, I’m not going to fry them, am I?”
“No, not unless you mean to. Casting is an active, not a passive endeavor,” Whipple, answered.
“Good,” Jim breathed in relief. He opened his eyes and looked at Irenee.
Her face was split in a huge grin. “Congratulations! You did great! I’ve always liked to see novices cast their first spell, and this time was special. I knew you could do it!”
“Very good,” Whipple said. “I don’t think, on his first try, even one of my students has ever melted the whole candle and almost the holder as well. Now extinguish them.”
Jim’s euphoria disintegrated when he realized what Whipple, had said. “How do I do that?”
Other books
Swish by Marian Tee
Big Change for Stuart by Lissa Evans
Improper Pleasures (The Pleasure Series #1) by Howe, Cheryl
Letting Ana Go by Anonymous
Inside the Kingdom by Robert Lacey
Misery Bay by Steve Hamilton
The Black Hand by Will Thomas
Special Dead by Patrick Freivald
Front Runner by Felix Francis
In Wilderness by Diane Thomas
