Michael Foster - The Young Magician

Ash stopped abruptly and a wash of pain flooded back into Samuel. He screamed into the floor and choked on the fluid that spilled up into his mouth, coughing it up in volumes, retching pure blood. He rolled over with wide eyes-his muscles felt knotted and torn-to see Ash standing over him, gnarled and twisted like a salt-withered tree.

Ash’s mouth widened, bearing the yellow teeth that still hung from his blackened gums in a hideous toothy grin, but Samuel barely saw the man, for he was looking beyond him, up to the darkening sky. Things were moving high above-enormous leviathans of power colliding and interweaving. A jagged patchwork of light silently zigzagged overhead, leaving tracts of fading scars across the heavens. More lightning flashed in the north and then the south and the rumbling rolled in towards them. Angry clouds gathered above and churned as if in a restless dream.

The pain then stopped and Samuel took a great gulping breath, seeming to taste air for the first time in his life.

‘I can stop the pain for you, Samuel,’ Ash hissed, stooping over him.

Samuel opened his mind and drew magic, but before he could use it, it had vanished again, sucked out by the insatiable creature above him.

‘How sweet is your soul,’ croaked Ash. ‘The more you fight me, the sweeter it tastes. Please don’t give up just yet. Your struggling gives me so much pleasure. There is so much of you to eat-more than you will ever know.’ Ash bent down further and cradled Samuel’s head in his palm. He pressed his grinning face and eyeless sockets against Samuel’s cheek and the stench of boiled meat was overpowering. A distant boom sounded in the sky and was echoed by more flashes of light and thunderous clashes just above.

An unholy suffering filled Samuel as Ash began his work once more. All was darkness and pain as Samuel twitched in Ash’s thirsty grasp. His bones felt skewered with pins, as if his very veins were being pulled out through his skin. Yet, somehow, Samuel’s mind disregarded the pain and the agony that pierced his tortured body, and locked onto a sudden obvious fact.

Amun morbata? The words had been misspoken.

Dividian had summoned the power to transform and awaken the Argum Stone, and he had spoken the ancient phrases required to transform the artefact into its new state, and yet, after all that tremendous effort, it seemed incredible that he could make a simple error in the final words. Unless, having realised Ash had betrayed him, had Dividian knowingly subverted the ritual? Was it a subtle message meant for Samuel? Whatever the reason, the spell was incomplete and the Argum Stone was vulnerable. Given time, it would revert back to its dormant form, but that could be hours or days or weeks away. Ash could do untold damage in that time.

If he was to survive, if he was to save the city and all within it from utter destruction, Samuel needed to get the thing away from Ash here and now-and he had only scant moments to do it.

Then, with his mind desperately searching for answers, the thunder sounded once more and Samuel knew what to do.

Ancient words came dancing onto his tongue, appearing almost from nowhere. ‘Karem abatu- ’ he began, forcing them through his broken quivering lips . ‘Mendar arrellum; daedus mantati hellevar …’

‘What’s that?’ Ash asked, tilting his head to one side like a curious dog. ‘What are you whispering about, boy?’

‘Amun…morbayah, ’ he whispered and, abruptly, the pain ceased once again.

Ash screamed and reeled back, dropping Samuel’s head thudding to the stones. He stood to his full height, screeching in pain as the Argum Stone flashed white-hot upon his finger. He held his claw-like hand before his face in sheer disbelief and howled at it like a raging banshee. Finally, his finger cracked off, withered and baked all the way through, and crumbled to dust. The Argum Stone bounced to the ground at Ash’s feet while Ash was left trembling and wailing, cleft from his source of power.

Waves of harmonious energy sang out from the powerful relic, making a resonant song in Samuel’s ears. With the sealing-phrase spoken, the Argum Stone transformation was now complete.

Free of Ash’s grip, Magic surged back into Samuel like a wave heaving up and pounding itself down upon the shore. He threw up one hand as if clutching at the very ether and he was instantly filled with raw, pulsing power. His skin and bones and tissue and mind were brimming with magic, replacing the terrible pain that had wracked him only moments before. His body was already spent but, while he could still draw a breath, his magic could sustain him. He and Ash were vastly different. He would never have let himself be overcome by such deranged power.

He stood up without effort-as if carried by strings-with magic filling his ears like a thousand frantic drums all beating as one. He revelled in the power and the world seemed new and clear around him. Somehow, driven by desperation and sheer desire, Samuel had found his strength. It had come to him like a sudden revelation, but this time he was not overcome by it or light-headed or filled with rage. His undivided attention was set on destroying Ash, and all his magical fury lay readied for that task, trembling to be released.

Above, the sky bellowed and flashed. Thunder boomed and crackled in the heights, slapping at the tower with each release and making it shudder. A titanic storm had gathered, trying to balance the immense volumes of power being summoned and spent below. The heavens were voicing their rage.

The wind struck up and began howling like a madman, dragging at Samuel’s tattered clothes. Irshank’s robe had all but been burnt and torn from him. If not for his magic, Samuel would have been tossed from the tower like a straw doll.

Samuel looked to Ash, who was frantically searching the stones with one ruined hand, the Staff of Elders still clutched tightly in the other. His desperate fingers came upon the Argum Stone and the gasp of joy was audible, even above the storm, as he rejoined the great sea of power it offered him. His head rose slowly and he stood back upright like a ghoulish scarecrow. A wicked grin formed below his empty sockets.

They both stood readied and positioned, poised atop the highest tower of Cintar. Samuel held as much magic as he had ever felt before-more than when he had killed the dark-skinned bandits, more than when he had felled Tabbet the magician, even more than when he had slaughtered Captain Garret and his men. He was not fuelled with rage as then, but this was even better. Just as Grand Master Anthem had told him, he was in full control of his power. He could feel more magic within him than he had ever thought was possible, but he knew it would still not be enough to match the-thing-that-had-once-been-Ash. A man could not possibly defeat such a god, but he had to try.

An ocean of power blossomed and filled the air around Ash as he summoned his killing stroke from the Staff of Elders. It took the form of a monstrous being rising up behind him. Samuel’s eyes opened wide at the sight, for it was awesome and vast. So much magic loomed in that space that the air began to smell burnt and acrid in his nose. He had no hope of withstanding such power, but still he stood defiantly, depending on his one slender chance.

‘Come on, Ash!’ Samuel called out. ‘What hope do you have if you cannot even defeat a single pathetic magician such as me? The world is waiting for you to consume it. Kill me if you dare!’

More and more power began manifesting from the ether, drawn by the will of Ash to join the raging torrent around him. The Elder Staff howled out in torment from within his grasp while the ether itself seemed to growl in anger as Ash tested its limits. Finally, he finished his gathering and there was a long and silent pause as Ash turned directly to Samuel with a maniacal, eyeless grin. The man had gathered more power around himself than Samuel would ever have thought possible.