Caster's Spell (A Mage Tale Book 1) Page 12

  Then he coughed—

  Blood on her face. Another scream. Darkness.

  When light next returned to him there were more students, more terrifying faces, more eyes. He looked down and saw them pouring into the room beneath his feet. In no time, silence became an uproar as they questioned, they screamed, but for the first time, not one of them laughed. It took much of his focus, but he managed to hear just one of their sentences:

  "I think that’s the Warlock."

  I think? How could it be a question? They all knew what he looked like. He wanted to worry, but he was in too much pain to contemplate it further.

  Blackness.

  Another breath and the students were mostly gone. Five masters were in the room and clearing the young magi out. None of them looked directly at him, purposely avoiding making eye contact. But then one, Master Tesla, mistakenly glanced up and was stricken by the sight of him.

  "My God," she said and covered her mouth to hide a somber look of disgust.

  Old Master Boscawen pulled her out of the room. "You mustn’t behave that way in front of them."

  "You d’ere, don’ just stand around," he heard his Earth Sorcery master, Powell, say. "Leave dis place. Masta Li, please get da boy down."

  Again, the world fell to shadows and his senses were subdued.

  He heard Axel’s voice next, after what felt like seconds: "When we figure out who did this, I swear I’m gonna—"

  "Ax," Wesley said, unable to finish the name; his throat was so dry. Lying in a bed and bandaged from head to toe, he found that his neck was stiff and aching. Still, he glanced around to see that he was in a white room, which looked much like that of a hospital.

  "Hey, Cam!" Axel looked over Wesley and across the room. "He’s awake!"

  Wesley decided to speak again. "What happened?"

  "You were uh," said Cameron from his right. He stopped to rub his face after looking at the Warlock. "You’re gonna be okay."

  "Lightning?" asked Wesley.

  "Yeah," answered Axel. "And earth, and something else—some kind of cutting spell." He paused. "I’m sorry."

  "Why are you sorry," the boy’s throat was finally moist enough to speak more than two words at a time. "You didn’t do anything."

  "Exactly."

  "It was past curfew, Axel." He looked between the two Sorcerers. "Don’t blame yourselves."

  "Okay," said his roommate as he looked to the ceiling. Axel nodded slowly but still clenched his fist tight.

  Then Wesley asked, "What happened?"

  "You don’t know?"

  "It’s all fuzzy."

  "Some girl found you the morning after, strapped to the wall above the door in the cafeteria," Cameron said somberly.

  "Pancakes and bacon?"

  Axel laughed with very little humor, "Yeah."

  "You were burned so badly, they barely recognized you," the other Sorcerer continued.

  "What?" Wesley touched his face, afraid he’d find it without skin.

  "Don’t freak out. Magic surgery can fix almost anything, so long as you still have source."

  The outcast looked down at his body. He was dressed in a gown and had electrodes attached to his chest. One of his arms was in a cast and sling. In a way it was comforting to Wesley, a sense of normalcy in this strange world.

  "But I guess it can only go so far," Cameron shrugged. "You’ll be good soon."

  Axel continued what his cousin started. "If she woulda found you any later, you would have died. And whoever did this left a message on the wall…”

  “What was it?”

  Axel shook his head and averted his eyes.

  “Tell me,” begged Wesley. He knew the answer would be horrible, but he needed a reason.

  “‘Cavemen don’t belong here’."

  To even his own surprise, Wesley laughed at the assertion.

  "What’s so funny?" asked his roommate.

  "Well," he giggled. "They called me the caveman, but they beat me to a pulp and hung me up like a trophy."

  Cameron almost successively feigned a laugh.

  Then Wesley’s laugh changed. His shoulders continued to jump, but the angle of his mouth sunk and his eyes along with them. He covered his face, embarrassed to show what may have been crawling down his cheeks.

  Cameron put his hand on Wesley’s shoulder, and said, "It’s gonna be okay, Wes."

  Feeling equally as uncomfortable as the bandaged student, Axel changed the subject. "Look at this." He turned and presented a table of fourteen flowers and three cards. "Apparently we’re not your only friends."

  After reading a card sent to him by his former dance partner, containing both a fiery "Get well soon!" and a threat on his life, he looked up to Cameron.

  "How long have I been out?" he asked.

  The Sorcerer’s eyes traveled down to his shoes and he sighed before answering, “Four days.”

  "How long have you guys been here?"

  "However long visiting hours are," said the Wind Sorcerer.

  "Cam even did his homework here," Axel laughed.

  Wesley did as well and then swung his head back and forth—as best as his neckbrace allowed—to collect himself. "How many times did Sri visit?"

  The room fell to silence, both Sorcerer’s shaking their head.

  Axel finally spoke, “She didn’t.”

  Back to Life

  "Okay, Wesley," her words still hung in his head. "You are, medically speaking, well enough to return to your normal day and can attend classes after the weekend."

  But in his heart he wasn’t ready to jump back into the melting pot of students. As he sat alone in his apartment, with an open book, but not reading, he asked himself how he was going to continue.

  Cameron had gone to Athens for the day with his friends, Wesley being the one persuading him to leave. Axel returned home for the weekend, at an official request from his parents. As the heir of the Stone Clan, he explained to Wesley, he had to attend certain events to uphold honor and tradition. Wesley had ignored all of Axel’s "I’m sorry, man’s" and told him that he should go. He didn’t want the Sorcerers to drop everything in their lives to accommodate for him and he argued that he could take care of himself.

  But now he wasn’t so sure if that statement was true. He didn’t want to stay in the dorm all weekend, but he was terrified to leave without one of the Sorcerers as an escort. To him, there was a huge possibility that he’d be attacked again. Like his first day on campus, and that that first piece of paper, he knew that the others were itching to join in on his suffering.

  So there he stayed, sitting on his couch with an open book on Lost Soul Conjures, staring at the door, afraid to leave it unwatched. Then a shadow appeared on the other side of it.

  Oh no, they’re here, he thought. He wanted to be brave, to courageously face his attackers in combat, to stand tall, but he couldn’t. Stricken with dread, he curled into a ball, and watched the door in a frozen tremble.

  Boom, boom, boom, he heard.

  "Wesley Savage, are you there?" asked a voice from outside. "I’m here to deliver a letter from Dean Sinclair."

  “This isn’t how messages are delivered,” Wesley returned, weary of any tricks.

  "Wesley, I'm a sentinel, an upperclassman," said the one beyond the door. "I won’t hurt you."

  Still, he couldn’t move. He could barely breathe.

  "Okay, I’m going to slide the envelope under the door. Please read it." Then the shadow disappeared.

  Wesley let out a deep sigh and finally eased his feet to the floor. He gingerly crept across the room, being as silent as possible. Then he snatched the letter and dashed back to the sofa. He sat and, keeping his eyes on the door, opened the envelope.

  Dear Wesley Savage,

  Please accept my deepest apologies for last week’s terrible occurrence. I could never truly understand the pain you’ve suffered. Know that the crime is being investigated and that more sentinels will be surveying the halls at night. Also, I mus
t stress to you that halls of Reviberous, past curfew, are strictly off limits. If you are caught out again, you will receive a detention, and because of your specific circumstances, you may be recommended for expulsion. Understand that these harsh measures are for your safety.

  Unfortunately, I can’t conclude this written conversation with a simple "good luck". I must ask you a very important question and I hope that you are prepared to answer it. What you have experienced is something that shouldn’t even be a possibility here on campus and I accept full responsibility for the tragic event. But nonetheless, it did happen and there will more than likely be unforeseen and undesirable repercussions. I must ask you if you are willing to stay and face your peers, if you would like to continue at Reviberous. Everyone will understand if you’d prefer to leave and go home. Personally, I must say, that I’d rather you didn’t. You are our greatest hope for peace, Wesley, on a level, which I pray you never become aware. Please visit my office at 5 o’clock tonight with your official answer.

  Respectfully submitted,

  Dean Dmitri Sinclair

  P. S.

  Run your source through the curse mark on the back of this letter. Out of it, a ring will appear. It is a relic that creates a small, temporary, protective barrier around its wearer. With it, you can not be harmed by anyone short of myself. Put it on and leave your dorm. I trust you are feeling quite stir-crazy.

  Wesley put the paper faced down on the coffee table. After following the master’s instructions, he walked to the door, taking a few nervous breaths before touching the knob. With shaky breaths, he cracked it open to peer into the well-lit hall. Unfortunately for his nerves, it wasn’t empty, but he forced himself out anyway.

  He walked past dozens of students, all of whom stared without a single word. Still, he twitched when they moved and kept his distance, not knowing their intentions. He couldn’t interpret their faces. It was as if they were struggling between hate, pity, and guilt. He didn’t want to see them anymore, so he pressed forward without making eye contact, keeping his head as low as he had on his first day at Reviberous. He continued until he came to the one person he was sure wouldn’t treat him like an outcast or a victim.

  "Master Rosen."

  "Hello, Wesley. Are you feeling well?" The master smiled warmly as his student entered the office.

  "Yeah, I guess," said Wesley.

  "Good. So what can I do for you today?"

  "I just… wanted to talk to someone," Wesley admitted.

  "Okay. I’m all ears. Take a seat."

  After finally being given the opportunity, Wesley suddenly found himself speechless. He didn’t know what to say, but he knew that he didn’t want the silence. It reminded him of the dark place.

  "Tell me," said the master, without need of solicitation. "How goes the progression of your conjures?"

  "Pretty good, I think," Wesley replied. "I can conjure—or at least I used to be able to bring out a fox."

  "What do you mean, ‘used to’?"

  "Well, ever since the day before…" he remembered the pain and cringed. "I lost focus since one of my friends—” A different pain entered his heart, “...she’s not my friend anymore."

  "I see." The master nodded. "The loss of friends can be jarring. Trust me, I know. But you can’t let outside events influence your internal balance. If you can be shaken from your focus so easily, The Exam will be impossible. If you want to be as powerful as Benjamin, you’ll have to keep your focus. You do still want that, right?"

  "Of course," said the boy like he was on trial. "I’m going to be better."

  "That’s what I wanted to hear." Master Rosen grinned and adjusted his glasses. "Now show me the conjures you’ve mastered thus far."

  "But I—"

  "I know what you said. But you’ll have to overcome it, sooner or later. Close your mind to all things that aren’t your goal. Focus only on what you must do. Then do it."

  "Yes, Master," Wesley said and stood up. He stepped back and put his hands together and made a connection.

  A rose smashed up through the floor in Master Rosen’s office and grew to Wesley’s hands.

  "Good. It grew right through solid stone. Simply sensational! But that’s child’s play. Show me something new."

  "Hurón," Wesley called and the weasel jumped onto Rosen’s desk. Then speaking to the animal, he said, "Let’s show Master Rosen what we’ve been working on."

  "What you’ve been working on? Wesley, it’s a simple Form conjure. It doesn’t remember anything," said the man with an amused smile.

  Wesley chose not to respond to his master, deciding that witnessing would be better than hearing about it.

  "Hurón," he said to the animal. "Ignis."

  The weasel coughed a small flame past the master Wizard.

  "Impressive, Wes," Rosen laughed. "Very, good."

  "Thank you," Wesley said and bowed to the man, his conjure doing the same before vanishing. "I'm not too good with fire anymore. It's like, when the class ended, I lost it all. But we found a way to fix that problem. Hurón's great with it."

  "Hm, how inventive," said the man. "Now, show me the fox."

  "Okay," Wesley took a deep breath, hoping that he’d do it properly. He closed his eyes and focused only on the goal. For that instant, nothing was more important than the fox, not test scores, not impressing Master Rosen, not even his friends. He initiated the spell.

  When he opened his eyes, the small dog-like creature was sitting at its side, staring up at him.

  "Perfect." The man stood up and walked around his desk. "Now what was so hard about that? You’re much more powerful than you know."

  "Thank you," Wesley said shyly.

  There was a short moment of silence before the master spoke again. "You’ve come far and I’m proud of you."

  The young teen didn’t know what to say. He was awestricken by the proclamation, so he merely nodded.

  "I’d like to give you a gift," said Master Rosen, "if that’s okay."

  Wesley’s face lit up. "A gift? What is it?"

  "Knowledge."

  He forcibly maintained his smile, though largely disappointed. "Great."

  Rosen laughed loudly, holding his rumbling belly. Then he said, "The parallels certainly are considerable."

  "Hm?"

  "Never mind," he went on and turned to a bookcase. "I want you to take this." He pulled a book with a green cover and words written in gold from the shelf. "It should help you."

  After receiving the text, Wesley read the cover aloud, "Form of Souls: Conjure the World, by Cornelius Rosen." He looked up at his master. "You wrote this?"

  "That’s right," the man winked. "I put everything I know on the subject into that book, specifically for individuals interested in becoming masters of conjuring. Officially, it’s not meant to be studied by anyone lower than a C-class, but if you want to compare to Benjamin, you’ll have to become a master of something. So what do ya say?"

  "Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you!" he said leagues happier with the gift than he ever expected to be, and with an urge to hug the master. Fortunately, he kept himself relatively under control and, instead of a hug, offered a handshake. "I’ll do it; I’ll be a master, just like you."

  "Good." Rosen shook his hand. "I’ll be expecting you to summon a darkness fox, by the end of the month."

  "A what?"

  "Look it up. And you better do it soon. It’s going to take some studying."

  "Yes, Master," Wesley said, starting to head for the door. "I better get back to my dorm then."

  "Of course," said the man with a warm smile. "Don’t forget about your goals, Wesley. And don’t let them shake you."

  "Yes sir." He turned to grab the knob, feeling ready to face his peers, before he heard an announcement over the loudspeakers.

  "Ladies and gentlemen, for the returning students, the time is upon us once again, and for you first years, your first glimpse at true beauty is here." It was the voice of a student. "The Mid
winter Festival is growing near. Ladies, grab your favorite boy and hope he can dance, because it’s your year to ask. Good luck and good hunting."

  "What’s that?" Wesley turned back.

  Master Rosen giggled. "You’ll find out soon enough."

  Into The Shadows

  After a week of convincing himself that he was prepared to stay at school, Wesley had come close to feeling comfortable in the halls, but he never felt out of danger. Now halfway through the dean’s class of unusual mediums, he was more relaxed with conversing with his classmates. Still, he couldn’t help but flinch when they made sudden movements.

  "Hi, I’m Wes," he said with an outstretched hand to his new Sorceress partner.

  "You think I don’t know that?" she said aggressively. Her tone stole the air from his lungs.

  "Well, no—I mean, I didn’t mean to offend you. I just…" his voice trailed off as she walked away, her black hair nearly lashing his face as she turned.

  "Um, I’m supposed to learn from you this week," Wesley called as he followed.

  The girl turned around. "No, you chose to steal my magic. You could have picked anyone else in the class."

  "But your power is amazing, a Sorceress of darkness." He did have more selfish reasons for choosing her and he had no intention to keep it a secret. "And I figured, since it’s the exact opposite of his medium, I could learn something about Benjamin Caster."

  The girl clenched her fists and he saw a hate in her eyes that resembled Liam. "Don’t you ever say that name in front of me again."

  "Okay, okay," Wesley agreed and stepped back.

  "Good," she said sternly. "Test me and I swear I’ll…"

  He shivered and leaned down and away from the Sorceress, thinking of that moment.

  Lightning, footsteps, thunder, pain!

  Please, he begged without words.

  The girl sighed, "My name is Winter." She held out her hand like she was being forced to and looked away from him.

  Cautiously at first, Wesley stepped back close to the Sorceress and shook her hand. "I’m Wesley Savage."