Shirukai Sestin was Chancellor of the college when Hephistole was a student. He taught both neuromancy and healing, a powerful combination of talents enabling him to influence both the mind and the body. Hephistole’s own talents lay in the direction of neuromancy and, drawn by his unusual strength in the discipline, Shirukai took him on as his student. Hephistole remembered the heady excitement he’d felt when he heard the news of his selection, as Shirukai rarely took on a pupil, and was known to be both secretive and powerful. The long tutoring sessions in Shirukai’s pyramid soon eclipsed his regular classes both in terms of the complexity of magic he was learning, and the energy he applied to them. He looked forward to those times with his mentor with an almost feverish hunger, and every day it seemed his mind and abilities were stretched to the limit by the endless cascade of esoteric knowledge and practice.
Shirukai showed Hephistole how to sooth and agitate the mind, how to remove memories and place blocks of various types. He taught him how to speak from mind to mind, how to read unspoken thoughts, how to put the mind to sleep and influence the emotions. By nudging certain parts of the brain, he could stimulate emotions without a natural cause. He could cause a sudden rush of happiness, or fear. So caught up in his thirst for knowledge, Hephistole never stopped to question the use of the magic he was being shown. Hephistole carried the youthful presumption that all magicians worked for the good of others, and managed to ignore any internal discomfort he might have felt when the topic of their discussions sometimes turned a little dark.
However talented Hephistole was at neuromancy, he struggled constantly with the frustration that he had no appreciable ability in the area of physical healing, and so could never combine the powerful control of the mind he had gained with influence over the body the way his mentor could. It was during a session where Shirukai was trying to develop Hephistole’s unimpressive healing skills that Hephistole was first forced to face a dark side to him that was impossible to ignore. The memory came back to him with peculiar clarity.
Hephistole entered the pyramid and made his way down the single, long corridor to Shirukai’s study as usual. He pushed open the door and was surprised to find a dog strapped to a metal table in the centre of the room. The dog was breathing calmly, relaxed under the influence of Shirukai’s neuromancy.
“Come in, Hephistole,” Shirukai said, his long, slender fingers caressing each other in a gentle, weaving motion. “Today you are going to try your hand at controlling both the body and the mind.”
Hephistole looked unsure. “Is the dog sick, professor?” he asked, peering uncertainly at the healthy-looking animal.
“No, not sick,” Shirukai said, closely observing Hephistole’s reaction as he spoke, “but how can you practice without a live subject?” His eyes explored Hephistole’s face for several seconds. “Don’t worry Hephistole,” he said. “The dog will not be harmed.”
“Of course,” Hephistole said, not entirely satisfied, but still eager to see what would happen. He placed his bag on a chair, and came to stand beside Shirukai.
“I have the dog in a trance,” Shirukai said softly. “It is currently convinced it is safe and it can feel no discomfort. I’m going to hand the reins over to you now. Ready?” Hephistole nodded. He slid his own controls in place, holding the dog’s mind in the same illusion, restricting the release of feelings that could disturb the creature’s equilibrium. As Hephistole’s controls slipped into place, Shirukai simultaneously withdrew his; a seamless transition they had practiced many times.
“Now, I want you to hold the illusion, no matter what happens. I will cause the dog a little physical discomfort; nothing major, but enough to agitate it, and as the body responds the illusion will become harder to hold. I want you to hold the dog’s mind in place. You must keep it convinced it that it is safe and in no physical pain.”
Shirukai must have detected Hephistole’s unease. “How do you think we heal people who are in agony?” he asked angrily. “We do exactly this, stilling the mind so we can work on the body. It’s important you understand the principle, and I’ve told you the dog will not be harmed. Now you either trust me, or it is time for us to end this arrangement.” Shirukai didn’t blink as he stared flatly at his pupil.
Hephistole considered his mentor, the man who had trusted him with so much knowledge, who shaped his learning with such skill, and found there was only one answer. “I trust you,” he said.
Shirukai’s mouth tightened at the corners. “Then let’s begin. Are your illusions still in place?” Hephistole nodded. “In a moment I will start to cause the dog some discomfort.” Despite Shirukai’s words, Hephistole couldn’t escape the feeling like they were doing something wrong. It was true that injured people needed exactly the kind of intervention they were practicing, but this time they would be causing the harm and not just bringing the healing. Whatever his reservations, it was too late now, and when it came down to it he did trust Shirukai, even if he couldn’t understand him sometimes; a dark man shrouded in mystery. His thoughts were cut off by the intrusion of a magical sensation he had never felt before. It was like a slow grinding motion or discordant sound, grating on his inner self with each second of its endurance. His stomach flipped uncomfortably as strange magic was worked in his presence. The dog began to shift on the metal table. A leg twitched, and in his anxious state Hephistole almost let go of his magic.
“Hold your illusion!” Shirukai commanded, his eyes boring angrily into Hephistole’s own. He strengthened the outflow of his power, soothing the creature with a wave of assurance, subduing its ability to feel pain. Sure enough it settled back on the table again and was still, though the morbid flow of Shirukai’s power flowed unabated. Hephistole’s breath started to come too swiftly, in deep gulps, and sweat broke out on his skin, which prickled as if stung by a thousand tiny needles, but just as he began to feel dizzy the source of his discomfort was gone. He blinked twice, released his own magic, and looked up at Shirukai, who was busying himself around his desk. Hephistole’s sweat was drying on his skin, and he was already wondering if he imagined those strange sensations that had made him feel so out of sorts just moments earlier. But no, surely something had happened, something unpleasant. He realised Shirukai was speaking to him.
“…can see that combining disciplines can be very powerful,” his mentor was saying. “The possibilities are endless if you are willing to be creative.” There was a long pause, during which Shirukai looked steadily at his pupil. “Well that’s enough for today, he said finally. “I’ll let you know when it’s time for your next lesson.”
Hearing the dismissal for what it was, Hephistole mumbled a goodbye and left, not even remembering to shut the door behind him. He walked with unsteady steps down the long corridor, and out into the sunlight. The slight breeze chilled him as it dried the remaining sheen of cold sweat as he walked. He was turning the experience he had just been through over in his mind. What had caused him to feel so dreadful? Was that Shirukai’s magic? Another form of magic Hephistole didn’t know yet? It had certainly felt different from anything he had yet channelled, and left him shaken. Suddenly, he realised with a touch of panic, that he had not got his bag with him. He must have left it in Shirukai’s pyramid, and much as he didn’t want to go back there he couldn’t go to class without it the next morning.
Reluctantly, he made his way back to the pyramid, feeling uneasy the whole way; an unease that doubled and then tripled as he entered the pyramid and walked quietly down the corridor to Shirukai’s study, hoping his mentor had left the room and he could retrieve his bag unnoticed. He could see down the gloomy corridor that the door stood ajar, dim red light filtering round its edge, and as he drew near he heard a whimper. Hephistole froze on the spot, sure that what was happening behind the door was not something he was meant to see.
Everything in him was urging him to leave, but some stubborn, curious part of him refused to do so, and he edged closer and closer to the open door. He was just two steps away from the door when the whimpering began again, louder this time, followed by a startling yelp, a sound of fear and pain so shocking Hephistole jumped and almost fell over. Reaching the door he leaned into the wall on its open side, leaning forward to get a glimpse of what was happening inside. Red light washed the room in its sullen glow. Craning his neck he could see several feet of floor and the edge of the metal table. He stretched just a little further, and more of the table came into view, on which he could see the hind legs of the dog, and the edge of Shirukai’s robe, who was standing over the creature, facing away from the door.
Hephistole could see his bag on the other side of the room, but there was no way he was interrupting Shirukai and getting it back that day, not when he was so terrified of what was going on in that room his knees had turned to water. The dog let out another loud yelp, its legs twitching violently. Horrified, Hephistole turned and fled back the way he came, scurrying as quickly as possible to put distance between himself and his mentor.
Hephistole’s thoughts returned to the present. There was a reason to connect the recent attacks with Shirukai. The sorcerer had been exiled from the college and country several years later when he was caught performing the most heinous of experiments on a guard that had gone missing. Those experiments had included the forbidden practice of summoning a minor demon and using it to torture his victim. The Council of Magicians had banned Shirukai from the borders of the known lands in punishment. Nobody had heard from him since. Logic told Hephistole that his old mentor should have been long dead by now. He had been well into his years when he’d been exiled, and another forty years had passed since then; but in his heart of hearts, where the memory of his complex boyhood relationship with Shirukai still lingered, he could feel a familiar signature, a resonance that he couldn’t dismiss. Sitting in his armchair, staring deeply into space, Hephistole brooded long into the night.
Chapter 15
Gaspi woke early. None of his classmates were up yet, and the light showing through the windows was only just transitioning from the grey of pre-dawn to the first golden glow of sunrise. Rising quietly he washed and dressed, and made his way out into the courtyard. The lingering chill of night goose-pimpled the flesh of his arms, and he drew his coat around himself to keep warm, rubbing his arms vigorously and breathing in the sharp, clear air.
Gaspi wanted to practice his meditation every day as Emelda had instructed, and the early morning seemed the best time to do it without distraction. Looking for a secluded spot, Gaspi walked around the edge of the courtyard, looking down the passages leading off into other areas of the campus. Before getting even halfway round, he came to a passageway that led to a low-walled garden in a courtyard of its own. Carpeted in lush grasses, the garden was laced with wandering hedgerows and flowerbeds. Willows hung their languid branches over the lawn, and gentle streams meandered through its length. The trees and plants were not consistent with what grew throughout the city, and Gaspi could only presume that some botanically minded magician had cultivated this lovely garden, and sustained it with magic.
Though not large, the higgledy-piggledy nature of the garden provided a variety of shady places where you wouldn’t be overlooked, and Gaspi quickly found a spot by a stream, where a well-placed bench enabled him to take his ease without watering his behind with morning dew. A large willow hung its long, lazy branches over his head, dappling him with shade. Sitting as Emelda had shown them, feet uncrossed and flat on the floor with his hands resting on his lap, Gaspi tried to repeat the breathing exercises he’d performed the previous day. At first he found it hard, the kind of focus required for relaxation slipping through his grasp as he thought about every last distracting thing he was trying to let go of. But somehow the gentle tinkling of the stream and his repeated efforts to slow his thoughts and focus on the moment enabled him to slip, almost without noticing it, into that altered state Emelda had led them into the previous day.
It was the steady flow of peace that alerted Gaspi to his achievement, a kind of tickling, refreshing caress that breezed gently through his mind, and for a few minutes he was content to remain like that, enjoying the natural harmony of his inner world. Once he was fully immersed, Gaspi allowed his senses to rove inwards, searching without force for the core of his being. With very little effort, he drew near to the warm globe-light that represented his spirit, and sank deep into its core. The gentle peace he’d been experiencing deepened to a profound inner silence, and he moved correspondingly from contentment to reverence. He was aware of the nearness of love. It caressed his soul like the softest silk, spoke wordlessly with the fulsome, echoless quiet of snow-covered forests. To Gaspi it almost seemed sentient - love with a capital L - and he allowed himself to be wooed.
The previous day, Gaspi had found it hard to maintain control. Intoxicated by his inner experience, he had tried to touch his magic, despite the dangers it posed. Today he felt more in control, and though captured by love, enraptured by its tangible warmth, he maintained a kind of detachment, a part of him observing the experience instead of losing himself in it entirely. That conscious part of him directed his attention to his power, seeking its flow within the depths of his spirit, and soon enough a wash of refreshing green light mingled with the white, the colour deepening as he observed it. It pulsed with his heartbeat, surrounding him in a rhythmic dance of delight. He could sense it waited eagerly for his command, coiling lovingly round his hands, but this time he didn’t attempt to touch it, and was content to simply draw near.