Page 10 of A Healer's Wrath
Chapter five
Johann
Istared into a rippling pool of water. Images shifted as rapidly as I could blink. My brow creased in concentration—and frustration—as I gripped the rim of the silver basin and tried to keep up.
“Johann, you were never very skilled at scrying.” The gentle voice was followed by an even gentler hand on my shoulder. “Why don’t you let me help you?”
I looked up, and the water’s surface stilled. The man who stood before me looked like every Mage in every children’s storybook I had ever read. With his velveteen robe with golden trim, the snowy beard flowing past his belt, his weathered skin, and omniscient, twinkling eyes, he could have been one of a hundred men of legend. He was likely the source of many—though few would ever know it.
I smiled and gripped the hand still resting on my shoulder. “Gareth, it is good to see you. Thank you for coming so quickly.”
“Your message left little room for debate. A new Mage? It has been many years since we added to our number. The chickens will cluck over this.” Gareth grinned and wiggled his bushy brows. “It has taken how long for our new Mage to discover her power? Ten, twelve years?”
“Sixteen.”
“So long as that?” Gareth whistled, shifting his gaze to the bowl. “Did you find her?”
“You know how I bloody hate scrying. Give me a good battle where I can hurl fire or lance someone with ice. This . . .” I waved a hand at the bowl. “This feels too much like research.”
Gareth chuckled. “Step aside, Grand Mage. Watch as your humble servant shows you the power of research.”
I grinned as I stepped aside, and Gareth stepped up to the bowl and gripped its sides. It was odd, seeing the age spots and lines that crisscrossed my mentor’s hands. He had been the first of Magi to greet me upon my magic’s arrival a thousand years ago. Even then, he looked ancient. Where his hair was the color of untouched snow, mine still ran inky as night. Where his skin sagged, mine remained taut across corded muscles. While I appeared as a man of thirty summers, Gareth could easily be my grandfather, perhaps great-grandfather, to mortal eyes.
And yet, I only saw my friend before me.
As Gareth’s gaze reached the pool, a crisp, steady image snapped to the water’s surface. Only a ripple disturbed the vision.
“Stone house. Young couple, both wearing the blue smock of a physiker. Snow covers the ground.” Gareth released the bowl, and the image winked out, leaving water so clear I could see the silver of the basin’s bottom. “I’m sorry, Johann. I can feel them somewhere west of us, but that is the best we are going to get. That house could be in the capital, on a farm, or in any of the villages dotting the coast.”
A gong sounded from somewhere far above, startling both of us.
“Looks like the others are arriving. Thank you for trying, old friend,” I said, patting Gareth’s shoulder. “Walk with me to the Chamber to greet our brothers and sisters.”
I led Gareth down a series of hallways to stand before a set of gleaming double doors. A stylized rendering of the Phoenix stared down from deeply etched bronze. Magic flowed along its lines, and its emerald eyes glowed in greeting.
I placed my palm on a metal plaque to the right of the door. The Phoenix’s eyes pulsed, and the doors swung inward.
Gareth stepped around me and entered.
“As long as I’ve lived, this never gets old.” His voice was filled with childlike awe as he took in the Chamber.
A massive hall stood empty before us, as long as a dozen homes pressed together. Massive columns the color of the ocean’s depths stretched skyward. Liquid magic flowed upward along marbled lines, giving the columns a sense of life and perpetual motion while casting a mystical glow about the room.
Ten high-back chairs stared across a vast circle of gold inlaid in the floor. Within that circle was a square of pure silver. The square contained another circle, again of gold. The symbol glittered and swirled as my foot breached its outer perimeter.
Gareth stepped forward and placed a hand on the back of his seat, a monstrous gilded throne with ornate carvings and plush violet cushions.
“I love this place, but that circle makes my skin crawl,” Gareth said, more to himself than to me.
The lilt of a woman’s island accent replied from a recess at the far end of the hall. “Good t’ing yer chair sits outside it.”
Gareth and I spun to find a frail woman with graying hair bent over a gnarled walking stick. Her cane looked more like driftwood plucked straight from the beach than a well-carved staff. She wore a dress so vibrant she looked like a walking fruit bowl.
Her broad smile and hearty laugh beckoned us both into her waiting embrace.
“Isoldå, it’s been far too long.” Gareth shuffled to wrap the wiry woman in his arms and was rewarded with a cackle filled with warmth and affection.
“Last time I checked, ya can Travel t’ the isle, Mage Gareth. No need t’ wait fer the Grand Mage t’ summon t’ see me.”