Caster's Spell (A Mage Tale Book 1) Page 14

  "They’re just girls." Cameron took a book from Wesley’s stack and pretended to read. "So, have you thought about it yet?"

  "What?"

  "Don’t play dumb. Who are you gonna ask?"

  "Ask? Oh, I’m not going," Wesley said and turned a page. "Whoa, it says here that Benjamin beat a member of the Secret Police in a duel at the age of fourteen."

  "What do you mean, you’re not going?" asked the Wind Sorcerer.

  "We can use magic there without limit."

  "That’s what makes it so fun."

  "That’s what makes it so dangerous." Then he brought the conversation back to Caster. "Dang, he used twelve curses and nineteen different spells during the battle."

  "Well spells for us are easier than Warlocks and Wiccans," said Cameron. "There’ll be like thirty masters there, plus sentinels. Nothing will happen to you."

  "How can you be sure?"

  "Don’t start thinking like that. You’ll end up living in a cave on a remote island somewhere, afraid to go outside because you can’t be sure about the weather."

  "Wow, you put a lot into that one, didn’t you?" Wesley giggled.

  "Yeah, but you know I’m right. Just go," said his friend. "I’ll look after you." Then the Sorcerer tried a different angle. "You know Sri already turned down like three guys? I think she wants you to ask her."

  "I doubt it. It’s too public for her," Wesley said absently, his eyes racing across the book. "I wonder who this guy is."

  "Who?"

  "The Secret Police guy that lost," he said. "It doesn’t say his name."

  "Hey does it say anything in there about who you’re gonna ask?" Cameron pretended to search the book.

  Wesley rolled his eyes. "Even if I wanted to go, no one would go with me."

  "Fine, if you don’t have a date, then I won’t get one either."

  "Are you serious?" asked a girl from behind Wesley. Both boys looked up at her.

  "Yep," Cameron replied.

  The girl grunted and made a face like she had been insulted, before walking away.

  Wesley laughed. "You were kidding, right?"

  "Nope. You’re going, and it’s going to be fun."

  "Holy crap!" Wesley said, barely hearing his roommate after he turned the page in his book.

  "What?"

  "The SP officer is listed as a Judge Brice Conley." He turned the book to Cameron and pointed to the picture above the text. "Look, it was him."

  "Master Conley," said Cameron staring at an image of the brutally defeated unconscious master. "You better check this book out."

  "Yeah, let’s go."

  The closer the school came to the Midwinter Festival, the more tiring and stressful Wesley’s days became. Countless female underclassmen, most of which he didn’t even recognize, approached him with smiles and stormed away from him with pouts. Cameron stayed true to his word, refusing to ask any of them to the ball and rejecting the ones who asked him. The girls reacted to his proclamation in different ways. Some became outraged and tried to force Wesley to ask someone to go with him, through threats. Many suggested that he lie and tell Cameron that he had a date. Still, a select few were paid off to ask Wesley to go as their date. But he could tell that they hated the idea of going with him and declined to take any of them to the ball. Of course this only brought on more of a confusing, pretending to be happy, form of animosity.

  Although he honestly didn’t want to go, Wesley could tell that his roommate really did and that he wanted a date. So with few days before the event left, he put some deep thought into taking a girl. He could only think of three that he’d be interested in going with, but none of them was likely to take his arm.

  The first was an angel in his eyes and a noble Wiccan, Emily Palo. But she was already going with an E-class Wizard, and even if she wasn’t, Wesley knew he didn’t have a chance. The second was his old partner in his Fire Sorcery class. But Cecile would burn him to a crisp if he even looked at her for too long, let alone asked her out on a date. His third thought was Benjamin’s cousin, a girl everyone was afraid of, someone that only he knew had a heart. But the last time he saw her, she said something along the lines of "if you ever talk to me again, I will bury you in a darkness so deep, you’ll forget what light is."

  Then finally his mind traveled to a very complicated predicament. In truth she was probably his first thought, or at least his second, but he had tried to force himself to forget her. His former friend. He wanted to forgive her, but it was too late. He wished that she could have taken back what she did but she couldn’t. Instead he continued to go without seeing her, the person that helped and hurt him most. No, he definitely wasn’t going to ask her.

  He’d face Cecile before then.

  He made up his mind and, for the sake of Cameron, sought out the only one that made sense. She was standing with her friends in the courtyard that Wesley generally never went to. He approached her slowly, terrified but determined.

  "Winter, can I talk to you?"

  She must have recognized his voice, because when she turned the area dimmed like the sun was setting, but it was 3:30 pm.

  "You," she said.

  Responding to the sudden change in light, Wesley took a step back. Then he stopped and walked towards her again. "I want to speak with you."

  "You’re so stupid," the Sorceress said ever so quietly.

  "Hey Warty, you know you’re not supposed to come around here," one of her friends stepped in his direction.

  "I—"

  "I don’t care." The group laughed. All but Winter. "What do you say, guys. Anyone wanna play with the knuckle-dragger?"

  They snickered and nodded and readied themselves to punish him, but Wesley was in no mood to be bullied.

  He pressed forward and raised his hand to them. Whether she went to the ball with him or not, something needed to be said between them. What that something was, he couldn’t say, but for some reason he felt compelled to help her through her pain, as if he could relate. He felt as if Benjamin had betrayed them both.

  With a deep breath, he shouted, "Aretstikapha!"

  The students coming for him froze in place, their eyes blacked out. Wesley walked around them to about ten feet from Winter.

  "You’ve… trapped them in their fears, but that’s," she whispered in disbelief. "I never taught you that?"

  "Your power amazes me," said Wesley. "I practiced even after I passed Dean Sinclair’s test.” Then he jumped subjects in a rush. “I want you to be my date to the Midwinter Ball."

  The Sorceress laughed and looked away from him. "You're such a dumb kid. I can’t believe you."

  "What’s wrong?" he asked, sure that her laughs seemed unnatural. "Come over here."

  "No."

  "Why not?" He started for her.

  "I hate you," she hissed and stepped back.

  Her words were as sharp as daggers, but the tear in her eye expressed something else. "Why do you always tear up around me?"

  "Shut up!" She continued to move back. "I hate you!"

  "Maybe you did, but not anymore. What’s wrong?" Wesley asked again a moment before he aimed his palm and stopped her. "Please tell me."

  "Just leave me alone, you stupid ape!" She struggled against his power.

  "I can’t. For some reason, I know we can be friends. And I can feel your source," he said, revealing a secret that he was supposed to keep from everyone! "It hurts all the time."

  "So, what, you’re a source-sayer?"

  When Wesley nodded, her eyes went wide.

  "Just tell me what’s wrong," he begged.

  Then Winter’s eyes narrowed, burrowing a hole right through his skull with a leer. Eventually, though, her gaze softened and fell to the left, accompanied with a quivering jaw.

  She was scared by his having of a noble trait, angered that he could see through her, and ashamed of what she was hiding from. Wesley could feel that much in her source. If asked to sense the reasons behind anyone else's emotions, he would
have been at a loss for words. There was something special about Winter. Her source seemed to spill into him, carrying with it, all of her feelings.

  "Leave me alone," she cried.

  "Please, Winter. Whatever it is, I can help you get through it." He didn’t even know why he was saying these things. Sure he wanted to help, but it was as if another part of him was in control. His normal, clumsy, frightened personality was being swept away in her source, as it provided him the strength to remain calm. "Please."

  "No!"

  "Winter!"

  "It was me!" she screamed. Then she repeated, her voice quieter, but no less distressed. "It was me."

  "What do you mean?"

  "I helped them! We—we tortured… I hurt you," she wept. "Can’t you see? It was me."

  "Oh," he said before the realization of what she was admitting dropped a sack full of rocks in his stomach. He uttered again, “Oh.”

  Conflict waged in the foreground of his mind. There was a pain of betrayal like with Sri. But there too was a sense of sympathy, empathy even, like he’d gone through her experiences. He wanted to be angry, to attack her, get revenge…

  ...but he just couldn’t.

  "It’s okay," he said and approached her again.

  "I’m so sorry." She fell to her knees. "I’m just like him; I know it."

  Wesley could only assume she was referring to her cousin.

  "Winter." His chest ached, burned, and his palms were sweaty and cramping and only then did he notice how tightly his fist was clenched, but still he uttered, “It’s okay.”

  "It was me!" She covered her face.

  Wesley reached down and took her arm. He helped her up, still conflicted, but by that point he wanted nothing more but to end her crying. It was obvious that her strife was something that she couldn’t bear alone. Guilt was her prosecutor and judge, not him. Wesley pulled her hands away from her face, revealing running black eyeliner, and instinctively, pushed away her tears.

  "I don’t care," he said. "You're not a bad person. I forgive you."

  Her reply existed in the form of more tears, before she wrapped her arms around Wesley.

  He hugged her back. "It’s okay."

  After a long moment, her arms loosened so he released her, sure that they could finally talk in a way that made sense to him.

  Thinking to lighten the mood, Wesley returned to the topic that he had came for in the first place: "Now I know you're older than be, but about the Midwint—"

  Winter kissed his cheek.

  Shocked, Wesley looked around anxiously until she pulled back. He had absolutely no idea as to how he should have reacted, so instead he froze, speechlessly.

  "I’m sorry, Wesley," were the last words he heard from her before she sank into her own shadow and vanished.

  Midwinter Festival

  "How’d you talk me into this?" asked Wesley, descending the steps into a courtyard that was now transformed. Aside from the aesthetic changes, of added balloons, banners, and confetti, the terrain itself had been altered, to adhere to the demands of the festival. There was music in the distance coming from one of the dance-floors and students in formal attire were scattered everywhere. Several attractions spotted the courtyard, including rides and even a horse and carriage. Makeshift roads weaved throughout and floating lanterns created a yellow glow like Wesley had never seen. It was something to be marveled but at the time, he had no desire to take another step.

  "I can be quite persuasive when I want to be," Cameron said from his side. "That suit looks good on you. Good thing Ax has so much ceremonial stuff."

  "Yeah, good thing," Wesley said sarcastically. Not having the proper wardrobe was his final excuse to stay in the dormitory and since the clothes were charmed, he didn’t have the option of saying that they didn’t fit. "I can’t believe you really didn’t go with anyone."

  Cameron laughed before a wall of earth stabbed out of the ground stopping them in their tracks.

  "I can’t believe it either," someone called from behind them.

  Wesley looked back. "Ax?"

  The muscular boy approached them with a girl holding his arm. "Why didn’t you punks tell me you were going solo? We could have gone three amigos style."

  "Well…"

  "Uh…"

  "What?" Axel’s date cut in. "You would have dumped me if they told you?"

  "Duh," said Axel. "Weren’t you listening?"

  The girl grunted and stormed away angrily, mumbling something to herself.

  "Well, looks like we’re goin’ three amigos style after all," Wesley chuckled.

  After pushing the wall back into the ground, the Earth Sorcerer said, "We better get a move on. Three good-looking guys like us—those girls don’t stand a chance."

  "Right," Wesley said questionably and started walking.

  When they came to the first crowd of people Axel pushed their way to the front, so that they could see what he called "the first spectacle". They were circled around a large empty space, with a hardwood floor. Master Dyonysius walked out to the middle of the floor and raised her hand to call for silence.

  "Ladies and gentlemen, over the past month, G-class Fire Sorcery has been preparing for this traditional event. Five of the top students will now perform a spell called the Flight of Nine Dragons," she said. "Children."

  Four students stepped out onto the corners of the dance-floor. Then a deep consistent drum began to boom and Master Dyonysius left the platform. The rest of the students stayed perfectly still for several breaths. Then finally a fifth person stepped out of the crowd, consumed in a flame.

  "That’s Cecile," Wesley said when he saw her. She walked, synchronizing every step with the beat of the drum, to the center of the stage.

  "You know her?" asked Axel.

  "Yeah."

  "She’s smokin’ hot."

  "You have no idea."

  When she stopped in the middle the drums stopped as well. A moment when only the flickering flame could be heard, she shot her arms up and the fire exploded off of her and flew into the air. On cue, music boomed and the other Fire Sorcerers took their first steps. They engaged in an elaborate dance, both elegant and tribal, all the while the blaze over head grew and split and stirred about. When they finally stopped, they were lined up side-by-side and the burning monsters in the sky swirled and exploded. The crowd cheered, none perhaps more than Wesley.

  "I told you it would be fun," Cameron shouted.

  "Hey, guys," Axel called as loud as he could, from a distance of about two feet. "Let’s go to the Ball."

  "Sounds good," said his cousin.

  Sounds horrible, thought Wesley. It was too personal, too close, and too crowded. Anything could happen there.

  "Don’t worry," Cameron said. "Nothing’s gonna happen."

  And for more than an hour he was exactly right. Axel and Cameron danced and thoroughly enjoyed themselves, but Wesley was having an entirely different experience. He didn’t dance; he didn’t talk. He was left utterly alone, except for when one of the two Sorcerers would check to see if he was safe. He was bored out of his mind.

  Deciding to give a little action to the evening, Wesley took another trip to the punch bowl. While convincing himself that he’d be just as miserable if he stayed home, he picked up a cup and ladle. With a sigh, he scooped up some fruit-punch and aimed to pour it into the cup. But when he turned the ladle over the red liquid spilled away from the cup and floated in midair.

  What the heck, he thought as the punch began to take on familiar forms: letters.

  He read the words aloud. "Please—forgive—me. You—are my—best—friend. Huh? Wait a minute." He turned around to see a small girl in a soft satin dress. "Sri Ranuka."

  "‘Sri’ will do," she said with a fraction of a smile. "I am so—so sorry."

  "Are you? Then… why didn’t you visit me when I got hurt?"

  "Axel was guarding the place like a pitbull. I—I was scared."

  "Right," he said. "Look, if you
don’t mind, I was getting some juice."

  She stepped closer to him. "What I did was cruel. I thought that if they knew, I would lose all my friends. But I was wrong. I don’t care what they think. You guys are my only real friends."

  He wanted to hate her. He wanted to scream in her face, to tell her that it was too late. But he couldn’t bring himself to say anything but, "It’s about time."

  Sri laughed. "So…"

  "Yes, you can dance with me," Wesley joked. "Or should we only do that in private?"

  The Sorceress rolled her eyes and took his hand, leading him to a spot on the ballroom dance-floor. Finally he was having fun. All of the stress that plagued him before immediately melted away when his circle of friends became complete again.

  "Wes," she said. "Lift us."

  "What?"

  "Into the air, like you did in Master Tesla’s class. I want to fly."

  "I don’t know if I can."

  "I believe in you." She touched his arm. "Just the two of us."

  "Okay, I’ll try." He turned his palm up and raised his arm. The tiny Sorceress floated off the ground and rose into the air. Then Wesley followed her, surprised by how easy it was. She laughed hysterically as they swirled almost a dozen feet over their peers.

  It took a while before Wesley noticed the other students looking up at them with envious eyes.

  Then someone shouted, "Yo, Wes. Take me up too."

  "And me."

  It was Axel and a girl he was dancing with. Wesley looked to Sri as if for approval.

  "You can do it," she said.

  He aimed his palm at the two and pulled them up. Then another girl shouted, "Wesley, I want to fly too."

  "Take me."

  "Me too, Wes," another shouted. Then another and another until almost everyone around him were calling his name.

  Once again, he looked to Sri.

  "That’ll take a lot of source," she said.

  Then Cameron descended from above them, hovering on his own accord. "You got this," he said. "Don’t think, just do."

  Wesley nodded and closed his eyes. He focused his source and, as if weighed down by barrels of water, he strained to raise his arms. Everyone in the ballroom rose into the air and roared in excitement, and subsequently crashed to ground five fun-loving seconds later.