“From your forest?” Eolyn asked, breathless.
“For you.” He plucked the object from the air and presented it to her.
The gift would disappear within the hour. Akmael had not yet learned how to make his visualizations last longer. Yet he could tell Eolyn would gather as much enjoyment out of the jewel in that short time as a nobleman’s daughter might during the course of a year.
Indeed, any other child would have responded to this magic with fear and trepidation. Under Master Tzeremond’s instruction, Akmael was learning how to use fear as a source of power. But Eolyn projected neither surprise nor apprehension. She offered only a strangely pleasant glow that Akmael identified with some difficulty as appreciation and burgeoning affection.
“I would like to give you something from my forest,” Eolyn announced.
Then the girl did something that truly astounded Akmael. She sat up straight and cupped her hands. After a moment, a swirl of light appeared just above her fingers and assembled into a small plant with thick leaves and an exquisite flower of white and gold.
“This is an orchid.” Eolyn plucked the plant from the air. “It grows in the highest branches of the oldest oaks, and it is for you.”
Scarcely able to breathe, Akmael accepted the gift and examined it. What Eolyn had done was impossible. Forbidden.
“Where did you learn this?” he demanded. “Where did you learn magic?”
“It’s not magic,” she objected hotly. “You just did it yourself! It’s...”
The girl paused and stood up, her expression caught between indignation and realization. “It’s magic? Are you certain?”
“This,” Akmael set the plant firmly between them, “is the work of a student well advanced in the ways of Middle Magic.”
“
Middle
Magic?!” Eolyn clapped her hands and brought her fingers to her lips. She gazed at Akmael with great intensity. “What is Middle Magic?”
“How can you not know? You have to know what Middle Magic is in order to practice it.”
“Is it like Simple Magic?”
“No not at all. Simple Magic is just foods and medicines. Middle Magic is the language of the world, of the animals and stones and plants. It’s about integrating the elements. Middle Magic is everything you have to know before you can practice High Magic.”
“
High
Magic?”
Her ignorance baffled him. How could she invoke a visualization if she knew nothing about the different classes of magic?
“Do you feel the same way I do when you bring earth out of the air?” she asked.
“What are you talking about?”
“When you made the branch of stone.”
“You mean when I visualized it,” Akmael said.
“Did you get a tingle in the soles of your feet?” Eolyn insisted. “Whenever I draw earth from the air there’s a sensation that makes me feel all warm inside. Does that happen to you? Does it make you happy like when the sun shines on a spring day or when winter’s first snow begins to fall?”
“I don’t know.” Akmael had to think for a moment. “It’s not exactly happiness I feel, it is more like a sense of power over great movement, as if a river were flowing through my hands. It reminds me a little of what it’s like to ride a spirited horse.”
“A horse?”
Akmael rolled his eyes. “A horse is an animal that—”
“Oh, I know what a horse is!” She gave an impatient wave of her hand. “There used to be horses in my village. It’s just that I’ve never ridden a horse. Ernan used to ride them, though. He rode them a lot and it always made him very happy.”
Eolyn’s gaze wavered and disconnected from Akmael. An unmistakable color flickered through her aura, the signature of some terrible memory. Before Akmael could determine the source, she buried her thoughts with a quick shake of her head.
“So it must be the same,” she concluded. “If it works the same way and makes us feel the same way, it must all be magic—you making the branch and me making the flower. And of course, you riding a horse.”
Akmael opened his mouth to correct her but stopped himself. If the girl was this confused about the matter she could not get much further with magic, and that would be better for everyone.
“I have to go.” Eolyn sprang forward and startled him with a hug. “You’ll come back, won’t you? I’ll be by the river again in a quarter moon.”
Before he could reply she took off toward the forest interior.
“Just wait ‘til I have a word with that old witch!” she called over her shoulder. “She’s been playing tricks on me since the day I arrived!”
Once the girl was well away, Akmael took out his amulet. He drew a deep breath, spun the silver web, and sang his mother’s song. Much to his relief, the silver web took him back to his hiding place in the Foundation of Vortingen.
Sunset painted the sky crimson and purple. In the east, stars would soon begin to shine over the distant lands of his mother’s home.
“Akmael!” Kedehen’s shout made the prince jump. The Mage King was nearby, and angry.
Akmael secured the amulet in its place over his heart. Cautiously, he peeked through the bushes.
Kedehen paced among long shadows cast by the monoliths. His hand rested on the hilt of his sword. His war-hardened face was framed by chestnut brown hair.
Next to him stood the wizard Tzeremond and Sir Drostan, Kedehen’s most trusted knight.
“You’re certain the men saw him enter this place?” Kedehen asked.
“He was not seen, my Lord King,” Drostan replied, “but the path of his flight leads here.”
“Gods know we’ve looked everywhere else. Akmael!”
Despite his trepidation, Akmael admired his father’s imposing build and forceful presence. Someday he hoped to be like Kedehen, respected and feared by all the people of Moisehén. Until then, he was bound by duty to obey.
He straightened his shoulders and stepped into the clearing.
Drostan caught sight of the prince first.
“My Lord King.” The knight nodded in the direction of where Akmael stood.
Kedehen’s black gaze settled on his son. He took in Akmael’s disheveled appearance and soiled clothes. “For the love of the Gods, son, what have you been doing? Wrestling with a bear?”
“I…I was…”
“Never mind,” Kedehen said. “Show me the medallion.”
Reluctantly, the prince approached and drew out the silver web. He did not remove it from his neck.
Kedehen took the delicate jewel in his strong fingers. The King’s expression shifted, a subtle softening around the eyes that Akmael had not seen since before his mother had died. He had learned long ago that this was not a sign of affection, but rather an expression of Kedehen’s unfulfilled desire to feel affection.
“What kind of magic did you say this is, Master Tzeremond?” Kedehen asked.
“I do not know, my Lord King. I recognize the Queen’s handiwork, though. The object was crafted by her.”
“Indeed.” Kedehen turned the web over in his hand. “When did your mother give this to you, Akmael?”
“On my birthday, almost a year before she died.”
“Did she tell you how to use it? Any spells or chants? Rites that came with the gift?”
“No, Father.” Akmael held the King’s gaze. He was telling the truth, after all. Briana had revealed nothing about the medallion. That Akmael had just discovered its use was a different matter altogether.
“Drostan,” Kedehen called to the knight. “You knew the magas better than any of us. Have a look at this object and tell me what you think.”
A warrior trained under the Old Orders, Sir Drostan had served the King faithfully when the magas rose up against him. Now Drostan tutored Akmael in the arts of war. Akmael was a tall boy, but Sir Drostan towered over him as he examined the web. The knight’s jaw worked beneath a thick red beard, and the faint smell of sweat and leather rose from his body.
“I have not seen anything like it, my Lord King.” Drostan straightened and stepped away. “Not among the magas I knew, not at any time during the last days of the Old Orders.”
“Very well.” Kedehen nodded. “You may keep the gift, Akmael.”
Akmael’s heart leapt. He could hardly believe his luck. Was it really going to be that easy?
“My Lord King,” Tzeremond objected.
“It is but a jewel, Master Tzeremond,” Kedehen said. “It will do the Prince no harm. Even if it did have magic, I cannot believe the Queen would sabotage her son’s glory from the grave. You know what she sacrificed to bear him. You understand, better than most, the choice she made.”
“I respect your faith in her, my Lord King, but I cannot share your confidence. Queen Briana was a witch after all. A true daughter of East Selen.”
“Yes.” Kedehen set a solid hand on Akmael’s shoulder. “And thanks to her, the legacy of East Selen is now mine. If this medallion concerns you, Tzeremond, then continue searching your records. Should you find evidence the silver web contains subversive magic, advise me and we will take the necessary precautions. Come, Akmael. We’ve wasted enough time on this matter. The evening meal awaits.”
Akmael thanked his father and tucked the medallion back into its hiding place, keeping tight rein on the surge of excitement in his heart.
It does have magic!
Magic of the most wonderful and mysterious sort.
Tomorrow, he would begin exploring the full potential of his mother’s gift. He would find out what determined his destination, and whether he could control where he went. Maybe he could get back to the river in the forest and find that girl again. What was her name?
Eolyn.
Akmael caught his breath.
He would like to see her again, he realized.
He would like that very much.
C
hapter Four
Eolyn burst into the cottage, breathless.
“Why didn’t you say you were teaching me magic?”
Caught in the middle of preparing their evening stew, Ghemena set down her knife and dried her hands on a worn apron. The cards had foretold of this moment. They had promised Eolyn would see the reflection of her power in the shadow of the forest.
“Because you feared magic, Eolyn. You were born into a world where women who practiced the craft met their end in brutal ways. You blamed your magic and your mother’s magic for the death of your family and the destruction of your village. You wouldn’t have learned anything from me had I told you what I was doing.”
“I’m not afraid anymore.”
“Are you certain?”
Eolyn opened her mouth and shut it again. Her gaze wavered and shifted to the floor.
“You have experienced magic running through your veins,” Ghemena said. “You have glimpsed the doors it can open for you. Now that you recognize your own potential, you have a decision to make.”
Eolyn looked up. “But if I’m already learning magic, the decision has been made.”
“No, Eolyn. I have shown you a path. That is all. A path that may have no future. Right now the only place for a maga outside of this forest is on the pyre. If you continue in the ways of the Old Orders, it may lead to a painful death. The greater your power, the more terrible your condemnation.”
Eolyn brought her hands together and studied them intently. “But I can’t die here. There aren’t any roads, so there won’t ever be any soldiers, and no one can ever come here to hurt me or you. Can they?”
Eolyn lifted her dark eyes, tentative and uncertain, to Ghemena.
“Sweet child,” the old maga murmured. “Death can find us no matter where we hide.”
The girl drew a shaky breath. She brought her fingers to her eyes as if to stop an impulse of tears. After a long moment, she uncovered her face, straightened her shoulders, and lifted her chin.
“Well then,” she said. “I suppose if I must die, I would rather die with magic inside of me. I don’t want to die like the people in my village died. They all died a terrible death. I think now it would have been better for them to die having learned magic than to die as they did, with no magic at all.”
Ghemena’s balance faltered. She sought a nearby stool and eased herself down.
The forester, Varyl, had rebuked her when she decided to keep Eolyn. Varyl had called her a fool, and perhaps she was. A crazy, lonely old fool, unwilling to let go of a dream with no future. But in the end, Ghemena had held her ground. She had not come across a child with such innate talent in many, many years.
And what of Eolyn’s destiny? The girl should have been killed by the King’s Riders, for only in legend did people survive those massacres. She should have perished in the forest of starvation or fallen prey to wolves and wild cats. The thieves—Gods forbid—could have found her, had their way with her and left her to die. The South Woods extended vast and impenetrable in every direction from the girl’s village. Yet according to the Guendes, Eolyn had walked an almost direct route to Ghemena’s refuge, where she had taken to magic as a fledgling takes to the air in late spring.
Does not all of this mean something?
“Come, Eolyn,” Ghemena whispered.
The girl approached and stood before her. Eolyn had grown taller these past years. Her once rounded face had begun to take on the finer features of adolescence. Well-defined brows sat in smooth arcs over dark eyes. There was depth to her countenance, a determination Ghemena knew would serve Eolyn well.
“You will be the only one left to command this knowledge, Eolyn. You will be alone, feared and hated by many. Are you certain this is what you want?”
“Yes.” This time Eolyn did not hesitate in her answer. The flare in her aura confirmed her resolve. Ghemena felt something she had not experienced in many years: hope. A fleeting sense that not everything was lost. Perhaps the old ways could be restored. Perhaps the glory of the magas would not be extinguished after all.
“Then I have something to show you.” Ghemena pushed herself to her feet. “And a story to tell.”
Unsealing a hidden door next to the hearth, Ghemena opened a small alcove filled with the few remaining annals of women’s magic. These volumes had found refuge here from the pyres of Moisehén, spirited into hiding when the maga took flight into the South Woods.
Eolyn gasped when she saw them and moved to follow her guardian.
“Have a seat at the table,” Ghemena said. “There’s hardly room in here for all these books, much less the two of us.”
Ghemena chose a heavy volume from the alcove and laid its richly illustrated pages in front of the girl.
“What are these?” Eolyn’s fingers drifted over the complex symbols that covered the page. “What do they mean?”
“This is a special kind of Middle Magic. In the common tongue, it is called writing. It allows us to share wisdom across generations, and you will learn to interpret it as part of your training.”
“Mother told me about books. And writing and parchments. I never thought I’d see any though. She said books only existed in hidden places and that girls weren’t allowed to touch them.”
“This place is hidden well enough, I think. As for the separation between books and women, that is a recent turn of events. Under the traditions of the Old Orders, I would have shown you the secrets of these pages long before I taught you any other magic. But there are many things we will have to do differently here in the South Woods. Today, you will start the next stage of your journey, Eolyn. Today, you will learn how magic came to our people.”
Ghemena turned the page and began to read:
Long ago, in a land that existed before time had meaning, there lived a woman called Aithne. She grew up in a world of ordinary ways. The plants held their silence. The animals moved in secret. The wind stood still, and the rocks lay cold and lifeless against the earth. The sun shone pale through gray days and the moon barely illuminated the starless nights. The essence of Primitive Magic haunted the land, but people were unable to give form to its song. They suffered from hunger and disease, and Aithne longed to help them.
Aithne spent long hours pondering this problem, until one day she noticed the animals were always healthy. Their dark coats were thick in winter, and their young energetic in summer. So she began to watch them. In this way she discovered from Bear which berries are good to eat, from Boar where to look for tasty mushrooms, from Squirrel how to choose nuts, and from Songbird how to weave baskets. This was the beginning of Simple Magic.
At that time, a young man named Caradoc fell in love with Aithne. Aithne, seeing Caradoc understood her, fell in love with him. They consecrated their love under a full spring moon, and the heat of their hearts sparked a fire in the center of their village. The villagers gathered in awe to observe the blaze. With branches of pine, they divided the flame so that each family took a piece back to their own home. This is how fire came to our people.
Together Aithne and Caradoc discovered the secrets of Middle Magic. The joy of their love illuminated the world, allowing them to see the stones are not cold, but rather vibrate with wisdom of the ages. The plants and animals are not silent, but whisper timeless secrets for the well-prepared ear. Aithne and Caradoc taught Middle Magic to all those willing to learn it.
At this time, the Gods from the deepest and highest places of the world took notice of Aithne and Caradoc, and a division grew among them. Some of the Gods saw great beauty in their initiative. They recognized how magic illuminated and improved the lives of the villagers. But other deities felt threatened.
“Are we to let them continue down this path?” they objected. “To become Gods like us?”
Spurred by this division, the Gods sent two messengers to Aithne and Caradoc, each representing a different side of their argument.
The first messenger, Thunder, pursued the lovers through the forest and filled their hearts with fear. Aithne and Caradoc found refuge in a small cave in the mountains. Thunder raged all over the hills looking for them, but eventually gave up and faded away.
In the silence that followed, Aithne and Caradoc realized they were not alone. A dragon-serpent sat in the cave observing them with sharp silver eyes. Like all serpents, Dragon spoke only through silence, but Aithne and Caradoc, long accustomed to listening to the animals, adapted to this dialect with ease.
Do not fear
, said Dragon.
The Gods who sent me find pleasure in your magic. They offer you the gift of High Magic so you may use it for the prosperity of your people
.
“Thunder told us the Gods are displeased and we can no longer use magic,” Caradoc objected.
The Gods of Thunder are jealous and fearful
, responded Dragon.
They believe your power threatens their dominion. You have nothing to fear from them. If you choose this path, I will show you how to protect yourself from their wrath.
Caradoc hesitated, but Aithne stepped forward and asked, “What must we do?”
Dragon instructed Aithne to bring three elements and Caradoc to bring four. She sent Aithne east in her search and Caradoc west. After three days, both returned having completed their quest. Dragon helped each of them forge their first staff from these elements. Then she gave them a single command.
Practice magic as you will, but do no harm with this gift.
“And that is how magic was given to us.” Ghemena closed the book with quiet reverence.
Eolyn put out a hand to stop her. “But what happened next?”
“Oh.” The old woman smiled and caught the girl’s fingers in hers. “Only the rest of history. But that’s too much for one sitting. We will continue another day.”