The Chronicles of Magik: Hero

Chapter II

HE WALKED HOME at a leisurely pace, enjoying the gentle breeze that was whistling through the streets as he made his way out of the city centre.  There were, as he had said, things he needed to do once he was home, not least amongst them making himself some dinner.  But for a change he didn't feel like it was such a burden as he usually did.  There was no point in fretting over the inevitable after all, and there was hardly anything of world shattering import that he needed to rush for.  So he decided he could take it easy for once, just let be what would be.

            About half a mile after he passed the outskirts of the city centre he remembered the book Freya had given him.  Taking it from his pocket he traced one finger along the silver lettering of the cover for a moment before opening it.  It was a small book, a little under two hundred pages and interspersed with a notable spattering of illustrations.  He estimated no more than ninety minutes worth of reading, perhaps less.  It was likely he could get at least a couple of chapters down in the two miles or so he had left to walk before he reached his little flat.  So he started to read.

            Just a few pages in and he already new why Freya had complimented him on his choice.  The words seemed to flow over him, every facet making perfect sense on the first reading.  Marcus had been blessed with a not insignificant intellect, something which had served him well when reading through the texts set for his college and University classes.  Unlike many of the other students he had little difficulty getting to grips with the older prose styles, having learned all of the thees and thous whilst still in high school.  But the small book he was now poring over, it just all seemed so simple, as though he already knew everything it spoke of and just hadn't realised it before.

            It spoke of the nature of 'true' magik, explaining that what most people called magic, the kind depicted in TV and film, whilst not entirely inaccurate, was little more than misunderstandings.  Old tales of great spell craft had been exaggerated and twisted across the centuries much in the same way as the words of Chinese whispers as it passed round a room.

            Nay, magik was in fact both far simpler, and far more grandiose at the same time.  Things like fireballs and lightning from the fingers, though in a way possible, were often much more likely to be simple deceptions such as stage magicians employ.  Magik, it claimed, was much more about perception than actual action.  The infamous tall, dark and handsome claims that fortune tellers had been making since time immemorial.  If someone believed they had been blasted with a fireball, for example, they would often fail to notice then they had, in fact, just had a burning log thrown at them.

            However, this was not to say that the book explained away magik as being entirely smoke and mirrors.  As he read more it went on to explain that the ability to cast spells was something which anybody could learn.  If they could just open their minds to the possibilities then it would, in fact, be possible to throw a ball of primal fire at a person.

            However, such vulgar displays were said to cause the creator to suffer some form of reprisal from the essence of reality.  The amassed consciousness, it said, held the ultimate control over what is and is not possible, and warned firmly of the consequences of forcing something which was not natural to occur.

            Marcus was intrigued.  Reminded of a comment he had heard in a television program he once watched, though right now he could not remember which one.  It was two (or maybe three?) people talking about some criminal or something, who was creating a hodge-podge religion of sorts out of various bits and pieces, and then using it as a way of making spells.  One of them had asked it that would work, and the main character had replied that it only mattered if the person using it believed it would work.