Michael Foster - She Who Has No Name

They camped on the farside of theriver, for it was already getting late once they had crossed. Orrell’s men took delight in bathing themselves in the natural,waist-deep pools they had found along its stony edge. The river had been blessed with the presence of steaming hot springs that turned the freezing mountain waters warm and it was too inviting an opportunity to miss. Water boiled from one side of the river and fell into pools along with cold water running down the other side, so that the pools ranged in temperature from scalding to freezing, and the men could pick and choose and move from one to another as they preferred.

The Koian ladies stayed inside their tent, but even their men would not miss the chance to wash, and they dipped themselves into the waters modestly and loosened their ponytails to wash their hair. The magicians also took the opportunity to wash, throwing aside their robes and scrubbing solemnly amongst the frivolous men. Samuel was the last to enter, for he disliked the thought of bathing beside Eric while they were still having their differences, but old Tudor kept yelling at him scornfully and,finally,Samuel gave in, disrobing down to his smalls and easing himself into the steaming water beside the others.

‘I’ve had enough of you two and your endless womanish argument,’ Tudor told them both, scolding them like children. His face was ruddy from the heat of the pool. ‘From this point on, I want no more of it. I don’t care what it is all about-it’s finished! No more.’

Samuel looked sidelong at his friend.

‘What do you say, Samuel?’ Eric asked him.

‘I have no objection,’ he replied begrudgingly.

‘That sounds like an objection to me,’ Tudor said gruffly. ‘Go sit in the far pool until you lose your hot head.’

Samuel looked towards where the old man was gesturing, where the water ran clear and untainted from the mountain.

‘That’s freezing. I’m not going there.’

‘Yes, you are,’ the old man stated. ‘Go on. Off you go. You can come back when some sense has returned to you. Go on.’

Samuel tried to resist, but Tudor was adamant and Samuel was left with no choice but to tiptoe across the slippery stones to where not even the staunchestof Orrell’s men were bathing. Even the mountain air had him freezing, with the steam rising from his skin. His feet burned as the icy water ran over his ruddy toes.

‘Get in!’ Tudor demanded, and the others, Orrell’s men included, were all watching on and laughing at his expense.

Painfully, Samuel worked himself into the icy pool, wishing he had some magic to warm himself with. He withdrew his senses as much as he could, but he could not remove the freezing touch of the water from his mind. Tudor and the others laughed merrily from their cosy basin, occasionally looking over at him while he shivered in misery.

Eventually, after his skin had turned blue and even his goosebumps had given up their objections, the old Grand Master called over to him.

‘Are you ready to come back yet? No more nonsense?’

‘Yes!’ Samuel called back through chattering teeth.

‘Are you sure?’

‘Yes!’ Samuel called louder.

‘Oh, very well!’ Tudor said. ‘I suppose you can come back. Come on; hurry before you die of cold.’

Samuel wasted no time, leaping from the waters and rushing back to be beside the steaming pool occupied by the magicians, with his arms folded and his hands tucked into his armpits for warmth. It was true that he was now too cold to be annoyed, and his only thought was in getting even with the old man. He stood above them, perched on the lip of the rocky recess, considering how to make the biggest splash he possibly could.

‘Don’t you dare-’ Tudor began, noticing Samuel standing over his shoulder, but it was too late.

Samuel leapt from the rocks and balled himself up, splashing down amongst them. The cold was dispelled from his body immediately, and as he raised his head above the surface and wiped the water from his face, he was greeted by the faces of four saturated magicians. Old Tudor looked the most amusing of them all, for his grey hair and beard were all wet and matted to his face and he looked back at Samuel sourly, like a cat pulled from a washtub. Samuel could only laugh.

‘Normally,’ Tudor said quite soberly, ‘I would not encourage three of our most promising young magicians to act raucously in public, but…get him!’

At that, the two Erics launched themselves upon Samuel and the three of them splashed around the pool, leaving old Tudor and Celios to flee to the far side of the water and out of harm’s way. After much splashing and carrying on, Tudor finally called them to calm. Samuel had to admit he felt better, for it had been a long time since the three of them had cavorted together in any way. They were grown men, but the years of trouble and seriousness had left little time for enjoyment. It reminded him of their early days in the School of Magic.

‘Settle down now,’ Tudor said. ‘You’re not children any longer. I trust that has settled the matter. Now,if you don’t mind, that’s enough with the splashing. I will have to speak to Captain Orrell to ensure no word of this makes it back to Cintar. It will probably cost me a fortune in ale for his men. We have our reputation to keep, after all.’

Grand Master Tudor and Master Celios solemnly discussed matters of their journey while Samuel and the Erics chatted happily, as they had notdonefor quite some time. Sir Fersewasuninterested in washing and sat by himself on a large rock that jutted into the spilling waters, seeming content to sit and ponder quietly.

‘It has been a long and uninteresting trip so far, I must admit,’ Grand Master Tudor announced. ‘Before dinner, I would like to see you three practise your Summoning and Casting stances. We may be called upon to use our skills very shortly, and I would not like to think you three have started getting rusty at such a young age. I may even give you some tips.’

They all agreed enthusiastically and,after they had dried and refreshed their clothes, the five magicians found a place away from the river on a low hillside that overlooked many of the valleysfromwhich they had just ascended. Captain Orrell and Lieutenant Valiant, hearing of their intentions, asked if they could alsobe present, for few outside the Order could say they had been witness to such things, and Grand Master Tudor heartily agreed, for the men had earned the magicians’ trust.

Grand Master Tudor let them begin and the three black-robed friends stepped through the standard sequences of movements and positions that helped magicians to summon and focus their power. He had found a length of wood at some stage along their journey, which he had been using as a staff to aid his walking, and he now leaned upon it as he watched the magicians at work.

Samuel found it frustrating, for the motions felt empty to him,devoid of rewarding sensation since he had lost his power. He had practised little in the time since he had defeated Ash and it showed in his awkward movements.

Master Celios scolded them when they stepped wrongly and harassed them incessantly,and it did feel as if they were apprentices again. Grand Master Tudor, however, only watched on in silence, occasionally smiling or nodding when any of them did especially well.

‘Your movements seem stiff and lifeless, Samuel,’ Tudor finally called as they reached the end of their sequence. ‘Is your mind perhaps on something else?’

But Samuel could only make feeble excuses for himself. Without being able to feel his own energies, the movements felt hollow and pointless. He had little to guide him now except his memories-memoriesfrom a time when each step and motion had thrilled him and filled him with his own vibrant power.