pointed at the cup and mumbled ‘Burn,’ a needle of white energy leapt from his finger and struck the cup, which cracked in two, each piece flying in different directions.
‘I’m starting to like this,’ said Pardigan, staring intently at his finger.
‘The lightning is only mild; you’ll have to work on it. At the moment it would scare someone but you’re a long way from inflicting any real harm on anything…unless you take a serious dislike to cups, I suppose.’ Mahra resumed her place. She seemed to think for a moment. ‘Just as well really, maybe Pew wasn’t as crazy as I thought. Your weapon of choice is the knife - try throwing one.’ Pardigan produced a knife from the collar of his cloak and with one fluid motion sent it spinning with a thunk into a cabin door. He smiled.
‘Who’s next?’ said Mahra. ‘Come on step up; let’s get this over with so we can get on with the next bit.’
‘Next bit?’ questioned Quint.
‘Yes, dear, the bit after this bit, now be a good boy and read the next page.’
They peered down at the book again; Tarent turned the page with trembling fingers. The next page was now visible.
‘That, my friend is you,’ said Tarent, looking with some relief at Quint.
They all turned their backs on Quint and the book, and heard the hesitant movements of their friend. The flash came and they slowly turned to see what had happened. Quint was standing quite still. Like Pardigan his clothing had changed. He was dressed in steel grey cloth with a hooded cape that fell from his shoulders to below his knees. A long black bow glimmered at his side in the flickering light of the lanterns.
‘Quint…you all right?’ Pardigan made to place a hand on Quint's arm.
‘I’m…yeah, I’m all right…really,’ murmured Quint. The others waited silently, giving their friend and leader time to come to terms with whatever changes he’d experienced. A moth flitted around the room and in one swift movement Quint drew an arrow, spun around and let loose, pinning the moth to the side of the ship. The whole action a blur, taking less time to complete than his friends’ eyes could follow. Quint seemed surprised then glanced down and opened his cape; a sword hung upon his belt with a dagger to balance it on the other side.
‘I love magic,’ whispered Loras. He walked to the far wall and eased the arrow from the wood. The moth dropped into his outstretched hand and fluttered feebly. He cupped both hands around it and a blue glow shone from between his fingers. Opening his hands, the moth fluttered free, unhurt from the experience and sensible enough to head straight for the porthole. The boys all faced Tarent.
He studied his friends; all changed but still the same. Friends he had known for such a short time, yet felt he had known forever. He turned to the new page and, sure enough, the text was there. He read aloud in a steady voice:
With a hand that shook, Tarent reached out and felt a warm blue mist enfold him as energy coursed through his body. Understanding dawned upon him as if a veil had been drawn from his mind and a smile lit up his face.
He knew himself to be in the Source, the source of all light and love. He was part of the Source and as one with the Source. A feeling of completion and belonging enveloped him and he understood the direction he must travel. After what felt like an age later, he opened his eyes to see his friends staring at him. Glancing down he saw brown robes and a long cape and was holding a wooden staff gripped in both hands. He twisted it and the two halves separated, twin blades flashed into the room. He replaced them expertly and returned the smiles of his friends.
The cat stood and stretched, then changed into the girl they had seen before. She smiled around at them. ‘I have been waiting nearly a thousand years to meet you all and it is a real pleasure to do so at last. Magician, Fighter, Thief and Priest of the Source; it is such a thrill to
‘I’m starting to like this,’ said Pardigan, staring intently at his finger.
‘The lightning is only mild; you’ll have to work on it. At the moment it would scare someone but you’re a long way from inflicting any real harm on anything…unless you take a serious dislike to cups, I suppose.’ Mahra resumed her place. She seemed to think for a moment. ‘Just as well really, maybe Pew wasn’t as crazy as I thought. Your weapon of choice is the knife - try throwing one.’ Pardigan produced a knife from the collar of his cloak and with one fluid motion sent it spinning with a thunk into a cabin door. He smiled.
‘Who’s next?’ said Mahra. ‘Come on step up; let’s get this over with so we can get on with the next bit.’
‘Next bit?’ questioned Quint.
‘Yes, dear, the bit after this bit, now be a good boy and read the next page.’
They peered down at the book again; Tarent turned the page with trembling fingers. The next page was now visible.
‘That, my friend is you,’ said Tarent, looking with some relief at Quint.
They all turned their backs on Quint and the book, and heard the hesitant movements of their friend. The flash came and they slowly turned to see what had happened. Quint was standing quite still. Like Pardigan his clothing had changed. He was dressed in steel grey cloth with a hooded cape that fell from his shoulders to below his knees. A long black bow glimmered at his side in the flickering light of the lanterns.
‘Quint…you all right?’ Pardigan made to place a hand on Quint's arm.
‘I’m…yeah, I’m all right…really,’ murmured Quint. The others waited silently, giving their friend and leader time to come to terms with whatever changes he’d experienced. A moth flitted around the room and in one swift movement Quint drew an arrow, spun around and let loose, pinning the moth to the side of the ship. The whole action a blur, taking less time to complete than his friends’ eyes could follow. Quint seemed surprised then glanced down and opened his cape; a sword hung upon his belt with a dagger to balance it on the other side.
‘I love magic,’ whispered Loras. He walked to the far wall and eased the arrow from the wood. The moth dropped into his outstretched hand and fluttered feebly. He cupped both hands around it and a blue glow shone from between his fingers. Opening his hands, the moth fluttered free, unhurt from the experience and sensible enough to head straight for the porthole. The boys all faced Tarent.
He studied his friends; all changed but still the same. Friends he had known for such a short time, yet felt he had known forever. He turned to the new page and, sure enough, the text was there. He read aloud in a steady voice:
With a hand that shook, Tarent reached out and felt a warm blue mist enfold him as energy coursed through his body. Understanding dawned upon him as if a veil had been drawn from his mind and a smile lit up his face.
He knew himself to be in the Source, the source of all light and love. He was part of the Source and as one with the Source. A feeling of completion and belonging enveloped him and he understood the direction he must travel. After what felt like an age later, he opened his eyes to see his friends staring at him. Glancing down he saw brown robes and a long cape and was holding a wooden staff gripped in both hands. He twisted it and the two halves separated, twin blades flashed into the room. He replaced them expertly and returned the smiles of his friends.
The cat stood and stretched, then changed into the girl they had seen before. She smiled around at them. ‘I have been waiting nearly a thousand years to meet you all and it is a real pleasure to do so at last. Magician, Fighter, Thief and Priest of the Source; it is such a thrill to
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