The Phoenix Ring(16)

Aidan couldn't think of anything else to say, so he picked up the staff and pointed it at Edwin, sure he was breaking twenty different rules.

"Mahor yok wenne," He said, closing his eyes.

The power left him in the usual tsunami, but his time, instead of coming against a pile of dirt, he felt as if he had encountered a mountain. And then the mountain pushed back. It was slow, but it was immensely stronger than anything Aidan had encountered before.

Finally, out of desperation, he opened his eyes. There was huge ball of light in between him and the warlock. Power was flowing out of each of the opponent's hands into the ball, and the entire mass was moving slowly but steadily towards Aidan.

The young boy was losing, and he knew it. He looked anywhere, everywhere in the arena for some sort of help. When the ball was less than a foot away he looked towards Timothy to mouth, "I'm sorry," but something caught his eye.

It was a single, lonely tear trailing down Eleanor's cheek.

Aidan turned his head towards Edwin, who was smiling.

Aidan didn't even feel the anger rise, it just did.

His vision went white, and he saw no more.





Master Edwin, the most esteemed warlock to live since Marcus Thunderheart, felt, for the first time in years, a little bit of fear when the boy asked him to duel. There was something about the way he moved, he was too overconfident, and he was angry.

Edwin knew from past experience that anger was the best way to make magic stronger, which was why he always kept to himself for a few days after a young mage died due to a Soulrock mishap.

The young Gerang had deserved it, he was sure of that. The boy had demanded that the times for his calling ceremony be moved forward privately, and had continued to pester the greatest warlock to ever live even when Edwin had blatantly told him no.

It had given the sorcerer no small amount of satisfaction when he had found the boy's limp body in the "cellar," and to see the face of his sister also made him remember why he liked being the warlock councilor.

Edwin had planned to take a few days of rest, have a break, eat something smothered in butter, and take a bath. Then he would contact the master, and let him know another young mage was dead. Five in a year, that was a new record. The master would be pleased.

And now this young, incompetent mage, that couldn’t be more than sixteen, planned to challenge him to a duel.

The warlock had been challenged on many occasions before, and he had not lost a battle since the days of Marcus Thunderheart. Sixty years down the road he still smarted from that fight.

But this young boy literally radiated power, the mages next to him were stronger because of it. Of course, of all the spells to pick, the one the boy used was probably the worst. It was very easy to defend, and easy to turn around.

The moment the whelp uttered the words, Edwin had a counter-enchantment ready. It was far more complex than the boy's, it would channel the opponent’s power back on themselves. The only problem with the spell was that it could only contain so much power.

But the boy had no Soulrock, and so of course the warlock was able to maintain his power for a long time.

As soon as the spells clashed they formed a ball of power hovering in between the two of them, which Edwin knew was one of three ways that opposite spells would react. The others were to make a river-like stream between the two casters, and of course one was to explode.

Edwin could feel the boy weakening even as the fight began. It was not a question of if the warlock would win, but when. When the sphere was less than a foot from the boy, he made a stupid mistake and opened his eyes, losing his concentration further.

The warlock decided to end it. He said a little incantation that would give the boy a nasty surprise when the magic touched him and then prepared himself for a final burst.

That was when the boy saw something. Edwin did not know what, but he knew it was bad. He knew what anger felt like, he had dealt with many angry mages before. And he knew from experience that anger was the best way to boost magic.

Then the boy turned and looked him straight in the eye. The warlock gave him his most confident smile. Edwin expected a surge in power, but he couldn’t expect what happened next.

The boy’s eyes turned white. Not the white like some fish, not crossed with veins. A perfect, beautiful white, glowing like the stairway to paradise.

What Edwin felt in the magic wasn’t a surge, in fact it was far too powerful to be described in the language of Sortiledge.

I haven't felt that since the days of… But that can't be!

Then the power washed over him and completely overwhelmed him. And for the first time in sixty-three years, Master Edwin, the greatest warlock to ever live, was totally, entirely powerless.





5





Aidan was standing alone, in a small meadow surrounded by trees. The grass was green, and the sky was blue, it was a perfect day. Aidan looked down at his hands, they were fat and chubby. He jumped, dazed and confused, and stared at the trees, which seemed to be three times taller than normal.