The Young Magician (The Legacy Trilogy) (22 page)

They had seen just about all the grounds before they noticed that the sun had dropped below the walls and they hurried back to their dormitory to prepare for the evening lesson.

The evening class consisted of all forty-eight apprentices from all three dormitories gathering in the Great Hall, barely even beginning to fill its many curved bench seats, and listening to a lecture by Master Sanctus. He was an old and balding man with a bulbous, red nose and drooping ears, and great white whiskers across his chin. He looked more like a vagrant who’d wandered in off the city streets and stolen into Order clothes, but Samuel supposed the old man must know all sorts of incredible things, despite his appearance.

If he noticed Samuel, however, Master Sanctus showed no sign of it, and spent several hours lecturing on the way of a magician’s life, on how it must be pure and good, helping the rich and poor, nobleman and common folk alike, but serving the Emperor and Empire above all.

There was not one mention of anything magical or mystical and, each time he mentioned some particular point, he would take great pain to explain the reasoning behind it and thus lose the actual purpose of his sentences. From the drowsy expressions of his fellow students, Samuel concluded this was not the first time they had heard such monotony from Master Sanctus and his lecture went long into the night until everyone was nearly asleep in their seats.

Samuel slept soundly that night and awoke at first light as the other students were also slowly rousing themselves. It was his first morning in the School of Magic and he excitedly pulled on his new clothes and hurried down the stairs. The two Erics demonstrated the rules of the kitchen and fried them all some eggs. There was a larder outside, beside the Great Hall, that was brimming with delicious foodstuffs of all manner and everyone could help themselves to it whenever they felt hungry. Samuel thought it was the best news he had ever heard.

Goodfellow explained how the roster of chores worked, with each student doing various tasks each day. No one actually enforced the roster, but it was considered the worst behaviour to deviate from it without a good excuse. Samuel would not be expected to begin any chores until the next week and so he considered himself fortunate, as he could relax and take time to come to terms with his new surroundings.

‘I have to go to stable duty this morning,’ Eric Pot explained, ‘so let me know what happens in class.’

The class with Master Glim was as interesting and exciting as Master Sanctus’ classes were not. They left their notepaper and quills behind and found an open patch of lawn by the tall, stone wall and Master Glim went into the intricacies of magic.

‘It comes from within,’ he explained, striding back and forth before the wall, ‘but that is not the source of magic, merely its channel. Our minds are like veins, with magic being the blood. If you are feeble and shallow-minded, the veins are narrow and magic may only just trickle through, but if you are fit and quick-witted—’ here Master Glim leapt up and clapped his hands with a thunderous slap. When he landed neatly back upon his feet, there was an enormous blue butterfly resting on his finger, gently beating its wings. Everybody, including Samuel, gasped in awe. ‘—then magic
roars
in your ears and you can channel it with a whim,’ he continued. He closed his eyes and the butterfly grew into a surprised-looking cow, balancing precariously on his hand. It then transformed into Master Sanctus, complete with an enormous cow’s udder and everybody bent over laughing. The illusion then vanished and Master Glim sat cross-legged on the grass once more. ‘Your mind must be keen and your body must be strong. Each supports the other. Magic
is
energy and energy is life, we are all made of it. There is power in thoughts and words and movements, in shapes and patterns and pictures and music, in places and times and events. If you remember this, your magic will be much stronger.’

Everyone nodded in understanding.

‘You may have heard that the stones of our walls were brought from distant lands, hundreds of years ago. It’s true. Early magicians recognised that stone is a lasting thing, and the ebb of the earth runs through some stones for many ages, before the wind and rain can wear them away. These stones were found in a place of naturally high energy, and this energy had filled the rocks and made them magically powerful. The magic has faded much over recent years, but these walls are still virtually impregnable to axe or pick and no spell can pass directly through them without great effort. The city walls are great in strength, but our school’s perimeter, though tiny in comparison, should long outlast them.

‘It takes a keen eye, of course, to tell a natural place of strong energy, for these areas of magical energy slowly move around the earth over the ages. Our wall is slowly seeping power, but this power is then available for us to use, increasing our magical strength while we are here in the school. The closest
natural
magic well is far, far away now, but, in a way, we have created our own, here.’

Samuel was impressed. The walls of the school were flawless—as clean and smooth as could be and seemingly made from a single, faultless piece of stone. It made him curious and a question slipped out of his mouth before he could stop it.

‘How did they cut the stone, Master Glim?’ Samuel asked.

‘Well, Samuel, this stone was cut with the aid of powerful magic and moved here in manageable blocks. The sand made from cutting the stone was brought in bags to be used as mortar and more spells were used to bond them all together as one piece again. It would have taken a long time, but it was so long ago that we don’t really know any more than that. But the interesting thing is that the act of moving the stones actually made them stronger—for
movement
creates power. It is like dragging a flint across stone, and it produces magical energy within us. Of course, we are always producing our own energy, but travelling is a way of energising and stirring ourselves to create even more. This is why we magicians try not to spend too many years in one place, as it lends staleness to the mind and magic. Now, enough talk. Let us go to the hall and practise.’

They left the grassy spot by the wall and filed into the Great Hall, now warm and inviting with sunlight streaming through the windows, compared to the chill of the night before. Master Glim seemed to lend warmth and vibrancy to the place, just as Master Sanctus had radiated chill sterility.

‘Revision!’ Master Glim announced and stood at the front of the room, facing his students with his hands set upon his hips.

They each in turn sat and crossed their legs on the open floor at the centre of the room and let their hands rest lightly upon their knees. They all seemed to know what to do and so Samuel copied them, looking left and right to be sure he was following suit.

‘Close your eyes and concentrate on your breathing,’ Master Glim called softly. ‘Let the air come in your nose and feel the energy course down your spine and into your hands and feet. Hold the breath and then let it out, taking all the corrupted energy out with it.’

The sound of an instrument seemed to emerge out of the silence, and Samuel could not resist opening an eye. Master Glim had tiptoed away and returned with a many-stringed instrument, which he was now strumming lightly and slowly. He made no particular tune, but more an array of harmonic noises, and from time to time he tapped on the wooden body of the instrument to produce strange echoes. He noticed Samuel watching and gave him a stern look that obviously meant
close your eyes and concentrate
!

Samuel did so at once and soon found the voice of the instrument soothing. He realised that Master Glim was also singing, a soft wordless hum that was barely discernible from the instrument itself.

‘Feel the energy within you,’ Master Glim then whispered, and his voice seemed to come from all around. ‘Let it become part of you, and you of it. Let the sound guide you.’

Samuel felt that the music
could
guide him as it resonated in his chest and ears. He felt very relaxed and memories of his meditation in the Burning Oak came back to him. A string of strange words was at the verge of remembrance.

‘Keep your eyes closed,’ Master Glim whispered. ‘Relax and forget your breathing, forget your heartbeat, forget your body. Become the energy—and now, concentrate the energy on a space just before your eyes. Open your eyes slowly and continue to feed your power into this spot; feel it burn and glow with energy. Feel the light before your face.’

Samuel opened his eyes and was surprised to find his hands had moved from his knees, where they had begun, to the palm-together position he had learned in the Burning Oak. A tingling ran up his spine, as a boy diagonally in front of him spontaneously created a tiny ball of light. The boy’s aura had flickered and bloomed and then a sizzling spark of light had sprung away from him, hanging in the air and unfolding into the glowing ball. The boy then pushed it up into the air, obviously having done this before. There it hovered and shone. Samuel looked up and saw it being joined by a host of other shining spheres as the students all around cast their spells. He held his palms together firmly and searched for the way to create his own. The feeling he needed bathed his mind, but then he wasn’t sure if it was the right one or not. A moment of fear overtook him as he remembered the awful spirit that he had summoned at the Burning Oak. It took great effort to calm down before he could start to regain a relaxed state of mind.

‘Those who can,’ sounded the voice of Master Glim, ‘move your mage-lights together and feel the energies of your friends. Each is distinct and individual. If you’re having trouble, don’t worry, just relax and feel the magic around you.’

All the spheres in the room began to move to the centre, all hovering together and mingling just below the ceiling. Samuel refused to be embarrassed by his failure and renewed his efforts. Without warning, his head tingled and a surge of energy coursed through him like a river breaking its banks. He was sure he had done it, but when he peered though half-closed eyes, his mage-light had still not appeared.

‘Each effort teaches you how to affect the natural flow of energy,’ Master Glim told them. ‘Each beat of your heart brings you closer to fulfilling the potential locked inside you.’

Samuel pushed harder and harder, growing impatient at his magic for not doing as he willed. He gritted his teeth and redoubled his efforts.
I will make a spell
, he told himself.
I will make a spell!

A strange snap then occurred in Samuel’s mind and an amazing torrent of magic fell through him, making him dizzy and light-headed. It was more energy than he had felt before and it filled him with strange exuberance. He realised he was grinning like a fool before he finally regained his composure. This time, Samuel was not at all disappointed at failing to cast his spell, for the feeling inside him made him giddy.

‘Now, let your magic dissipate and we’ll finish,’ Master Glim finally called.

Samuel released his efforts and opened his eyes again, shaking his sweaty hands. At once, the pleasant feeling vanished and Samuel’s head cleared. He could feel the energy calling to him, pulsing like a river that lay just underneath the ground, its pressure shaking the soil and threatening to break through. It was difficult to put the power to rest, for the feeling had been wonderful and exhilarating. He had to calm himself several times and push his magic back deep within himself. A horrible image of a boy catching on fire came to mind and the thought caused his power to flicker and vanish.

Samuel gave a sigh of relief and looked up as the mage-lights above grew dim and faded one by one as the boys all ceased their spelling.

‘Well done,’ Master Glim said. ‘Those of you who managed and feel confident may practise in your own time. Those of you who did not may practise breathing techniques, but do not try to channel power until we next meet. That is all. Master Sanctus has you all day tomorrow.’

There was a groan at this and all the boys began to file out. Samuel did not leave at once, but instead went to Master Glim’s side; his teacher was replacing his instrument into a small cupboard. Peering past him, Samuel could see all manner of other curious things tucked inside.

‘Master Glim?’ Samuel asked.

‘Well done, Samuel,’ Master Glim said, closing the door and turning to face his student. ‘I felt some magic in you at the end there. Just a touch, but enough to let me know you have good potential. Do not worry that you could not do anything today. It never comes at once. You did well just to breathe properly and relax. Have you practised before?’

‘A little—but I want to ask you—I was wondering about magic. I felt very strange just now and a little sick. I heard about the boy that caught fire and I wondered if that’s what it felt like. Can you let too much power in?’

‘Yes, indeed,’ Master Glim conceded. ‘That can happen to untrained magicians and, unfortunately, seems to be happening more and more of late. If one lets too much magic in and not enough out, the power can be dangerous—overwhelming. If too much magic fills you, burn it out somehow while you temper your connection to the source. Make a knot of power as we have today and throw it away. Cast it out into the sky, for magic must be consumed once summoned or it will consume you. And magic will not return to the ether easily. It is a skill that must be slowly developed. All this is why you are here, to learn the simplest yet most important of lessons: you must master yourself if you are to master your magic.’