Page 10 of Witchcraft and Fury (Chronicles of the Divided Isle #1)

MANIPULATION

Though it is true that most of Ashwood is thick with forest, vast plains of grassland stretch from the coast in the north-east up to the mountainous terrain of the capital, Riverhawk.

This has been a favoured route of invading foreigners throughout the current Age, offering as it does a course straight to the kingdom’s jugular.

It has been three centuries since the crown granted House Loveday stewardship of the grasslands and tasked it with defence of the neighbouring coast. It is an appointment not without its rewards, for the crown is conscious of the vulnerabilities posed by the grasslands.

And so whenever the Lovedays plead the need to upgrade their defences, the crown is generous in providing coin.

Solar’s magical training was not what she had expected. Indeed, much of what she and the other students were instructed to do seemed to have no relation to magic at all.

On her first day Binns made the six of them run laps around the glade at sunrise, skirting the shore of the lake.

This, Pingot told her, was a daily routine.

They emerged from their tents bleary-eyed, pulling on thick boots and stretching, all apart from Bear, who stood ready and fresh-faced.

He had risen well before dawn to pray to the numerous gods favoured by his devoutly religious family.

The winged imps had already cooked for themselves sizeable portions of fried eggs, bacon, tomatoes, mushrooms and black pudding and were now squatting in mid-air, gorging themselves and taking great delight in watching the morning spectacle.

They seemed to be able to eat far more than the weight of their bodies, considering each was no taller or wider than a rasher of bacon.

As the students broke into a reluctant run the imps jeered and cheered, betting on who would finish first and last:

‘I’ll wager two fried eggs Cal quits in a strop halfway through!’

‘Three rashers of bacon says the scrawny new girl collapses in a heap!’

‘Four pounds of black pudding on Cal to win!’

‘A lump of lard on lumbering Pingot to break a leg!’

At this last wager, Pingot threw a hurt look over his shoulder at the imps and promptly tripped over a fallen branch.

Solar, confident that her years of experience in running from Grubber’s guards would give her the edge, put on a burst of speed from the very beginning and was soon far ahead of the pack.

But it was not long before she found that running five laps around the enormous clearing was very different from making a quick escape down a city alleyway.

She began to tire, and by the end she had fallen behind both Cal and Oswald.

Bear and Wyman were hot on her heels, pursuing doggedly.

Pingot came a definite last, wheezing and coughing, his normally pallid cheeks a bright pink.

Next they were made to perform press-ups, sit-ups and squats at a ferocious pace, interspersed with running sprints, all whilst the master-at-arms growled, ‘A weak wizard is capable only of weak magic. Pain is weakness leaving the body!’, and other similar comments that Solar could only assume were meant to be inspiring.

Only after this gruelling workout were they permitted to sit round the campfire and enjoy their breakfast. Pingot was in charge of cooking, serving runny eggs, wild boar sausages and crispy bacon with beakers of elderflower cordial.

He cut an unlikely figure for a wizard, reflected Solar, thinking of the heroic songs in which they so often featured, with his watery eyes, upturned nose and persistently sweaty brow.

‘I can’t wait for this afternoon’s sparring lesson, Pingot. Unhealthy specimens such as yourself make for such easy targets,’ jibed Wyman.

‘Don’t be cruel, cousin,’ chimed in Oswald lazily. ‘He’s not unhealthy in all regards. You’re forgetting his appetite – that’s in great shape.’

‘There’s my tongue also, and my mind. Both are keener than any sword you’ll ever wield,’ said Pingot sharply, helping himself to another sausage.

*

After breakfast the five trainees – Solar, Bear, Pingot, Oswald and Wyman – had their magic class with Loveday. Cal, an apprentice and so more advanced in his studies, practised magic by himself next to the fire in preparation for a private lesson that would take place later that day.

They seated themselves on five flat, grey boulders that lay near the lake. Loveday stood to the side of a small fire with a pot of simmering water suspended magically over it. Solar fidgeted nervously as she waited for the lesson to begin .

‘Don’t worry, this is the first class for all of us,’ said Pingot in an undertone beside her.

‘What? Really?’ asked Solar, surprised.

‘We’ve only done fitness and weapons training with Binns so far. Loveday was waiting until Hroth joined us. Now that we’re a full class he’s finally going to teach us magic.’

Loveday cleared his throat, and Pingot fell silent.

‘Manipulation of the natural world is the foundation of the art that we call wizardry,’ he began, his voice calm and measured.

‘Understanding nature is the first step towards understanding and controlling ourselves, for the simple reason that we come from and return to the very earth upon which we stand.’

‘And some of us have earth between our ears,’ whispered Pingot to Solar, nodding his head almost imperceptibly towards Wyman.

The boy was lying stretched out on his boulder, supporting himself on bony elbows and looking up at the azure sky absent-mindedly.

Solar smirked and stifled a laugh. She decided she was starting to like Pingot.

Wyman’s cousin Oswald was sitting bolt upright on the boulder next to him, hanging on to Loveday’s every word.

‘To manipulate the world around you, you must not just comprehend but also feel how you are but a part of it. Feel with your mind. Close it to distractions. Feel yourself become one with the element you wish to manipulate. If you wish to change the flow of a river, in your mind move with the water between the riverbanks. You must feel all the river feels, the idleness of its meanders, the fury of its rapids. Only if you are a part of it can you hope to control it. To stoke or calm a fire you must know both the greed it feels as it strives to consume and its glow of satisfaction when it later subsides to a smoulder.’

Solar felt perplexed. Was all magic so wishy-washy?

She had thought Loveday had enrolled her to study magic due to her daring and quick thinking, not an ability to ‘feel with her mind’, whatever that was supposed to mean.

She looked around at the other students.

Bear was leaning forward in a hunch, his chin on his fist and brow furrowed in concentration.

Wyman had finally sat up, evidently having decided that he might have to apply himself after all.

Pingot was cracking his knuckles and stretching, eager to have his first go at ‘manipulation’.

Loveday had them approach the fire and attempt to fan the flames with their minds.

They would know they had succeeded if the bowl of simmering water boiled over.

Wyman went first, walking with reluctance and sloped shoulders as if he didn’t have the least bit of confidence in himself.

When he was no less than four paces away the flames turned a sickly green, spluttered and died.

‘Useless boy,’ reprimanded Loveday. ‘Are you completely hopeless?’

Wyman went back to his boulder, and Loveday relit the fire with a cursory glance at the ashes. Then the wizard looked to Solar. He smiled at her, and when he spoke there was an excited edge to his tone. ‘And now for our encampment’s newest addition to try her hand. Solar, you next, if you please.’

Solar moved to the fire, feeling all eyes upon her.

She stood before the flames and tried to close her mind to all else around her, to focus on the fire, to understand how it would feel as it grew into a roar that would send the water into a fierce boil.

She found it impossible, for whispered commentary from Oswald and Wyman distracted her:

‘Time to see what the hag can do.’

‘I wouldn’t pin my hopes on her having much success. The hags my father burned clearly had no skill at controlling flames. ’

Loveday silenced them with a furious stare. He is quite terrifying when he wants to be , Solar mused. Then she caught herself. Concentrate! she thought sternly, and she turned her attention back to the flames.

‘Focus, Solar. You can do this,’ said Loveday, his voice still excited, full of belief in her.

But the next couple of minutes were just as fruitless, and she had no choice but to give up.

She stormed back to her boulder, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment, not looking at Loveday.

She feared that she was letting him down; he had spotted her potential back in Falcontop, and now she felt duty-bound to fulfil it.

She and Wyman were not alone in struggling with the task.

One by one the others approached the fire, and one by one they failed to exert any influence over it.

Loveday kept them practising until the sun reached its zenith.

On his final attempt Pingot managed to stoke the flames into a small inferno, and the simmering water boiled over.

Solar and Bear whooped and cheered as Pingot walked back to his seat, sweat pouring from his pasty brow but a smile on his face.

‘Don’t let the flames grow too hot, piggy, or the rest of us will be having roast pork for lunch,’ sneered Oswald.

‘Seeing as I’m the only one who can control the flames, it is me who has the power to make threats,’ retorted Pingot. But when Oswald approached the flames for his final attempt, he too managed to make the water boil over the rim.

‘Why does Oswald seem to hate you so much?’ Solar asked as they headed back to the campfire for lunch, thoroughly exhausted from mental exertion.