November 1892, Wales
Nine-year-old James sat bolt upright in bed as a scream escaped his lungs, “Manukto!”
A tall, thin, and quite old man stood at the foot of his bed looking down at him. His pleasant expression turned to one of curiosity at the sound of the boy’s scream. James pressed himself against the headboard at the sight of the stranger. The man smiled and stepped toward him.
“Hello, James. I’m terribly sorry to startle you,” the man said with a smile.
The man had an aura about him that immediately put James at ease. The room was dark except for the glow of the fire. James found it strange that he had no fear of this man.
“What was it you were dreaming?” the man asked pleasantly.
“A tunnel,” said James. “I was being chased by… something terrible.”
The stranger appeared introspective for a moment then looked deep into James’s eyes.
“Do you know who I am?” the man asked.
“No, sir. I don’t believe we’ve ever met.”
“Oh, but we have, on several occasions. Although I would hardly expect you to remember them as you were so young. There was one time, as I recall, in the not too distant past when I called upon your parents. You were supposed to be sleeping however you decided to play in the gardens behind the house. I believe we met somewhere between the primrose and the catmint.”
James thought for a moment and vaguely recalled that moonlit night in the garden. Ever since he and his parents arrived earlier that day James had been drawn to the gardens, which contained numerous stone paths, fountains and even a hedge maze. That next evening, while his parents thought he was in bed asleep, James lowered himself from the window using an incantation his father taught him just one-week prior and made his way to the gardens. He had just finished completing the hedge maze for the seventh time when the man appeared. Like this night, the man’s appearance did not instill fear. Rather than hide in the shadows, which he could have easily done, James stepped out to greet the man. The man responded pleasantly and told James to run along back to his room before he was found out. His parents never knew he was out.
The man smiled along with James as if he, too, were enjoying the fond memory.
“So you do recall our previous meeting,” he said.
“Yes,” James said.
“Excellent. Then you know I pose you no harm.”
“Yes,” James replied again.
“Allow me to formally introduce myself. My name is Akil Karanis. I’ve been a friend of your father’s since you were but a toddler.”
James smiled but made no attempt to shake his hand. He simply nodded and drew the sheets higher under his chin. He was mesmerized by the appearance of the old man: short, pure white hair; a neatly trimmed goatee; and a long, brown duster over what looked to be a maroon suit.
Akil made his way around the foot of the bed and to the chair beside James. “May I sit?” he asked.
James nodded. Akil pulled the chair from under the table, turned it so it was facing James, and sat quietly. He leaned forward, rubbing his hands together.
“Now, boy, tell me. What do you know about magic?”
“I know everything I’ve been taught,” James replied. “And some things I’ve taught myself.”
“I hear you’re quite a prodigy. Will you show me something you’ve taught yourself?”
Completely forgetting his modesty for his want to impress this man his parents so often talked about, James quickly stood on the opposite side of the bed. He looked around and picked up his pillow. He looked at Akil, who nodded. James tossed the pillow into the air and said “ Ego-apur-menderatu.” The pillow silently exploded in midair. James held up his hands and the feathers and scraps of fabric hung suspended. He then began moving his hands as if rolling a large ball of dough. The remnants of the pillow began to swirl until they themselves had taken a round shape. James directed the mass over the bed toward Akil, who watched with impressed fascination. Once it was above Akil’s head, James said “Berrizegoratu,” and the pillow immediately reformed, and dropped on Akil’s head, who couldn’t help but laugh as it slid down his back and onto the floor. James smiled, slightly embarrassed.
“Very good, James. Most impressive,” Akil said, reaching behind him for the pillow. “And you say you taught yourself that?”
“Yes,” James said proudly.
“Tell me, how did you come up with that particular combination of words?”
“I hear people put together two words all the time. I thought, why not three?”
“And what made you decide upon those three words?”
“‘Break’: apurtu, ‘Stay’: egon, and menderatu. I just guessed which part of the word to use.
“Do you know what the third word in your incantation means?”
“No.”
“How did you come across it then?” Akil asked.
“I heard it used once and always liked the way it sounded. What does it mean, Master Karanis?”
“Akil. Please, my friends call me Akil, and I’d like to count you among them.” James nodded and smiled. “The word, menderatu, means to dominate,” said Akil. “Do you know what dominate means, James?”
“I think it means to beat someone,” he replied.
“Domination means supremacy or superiority over another. Tell me, James, do you recall who spoke this word that so captured your imagination?”
James knew exactly where he heard the word. Roughly a year ago his father had taken him across the sea to Italy on a large ship. One day during their voyage, James was making his way back to their cabin when he heard a man speaking with a distinctly deep and frog-like voice. He followed the voice to an open cabin door and slowly crept up and peeked inside. He saw a man with his back to the door running his hands across what looked like a large mirror, though James could see no reflection. The man repeated “menderatu” over and over as his fingers ran across the glass. The rest of the trip, James repeated that word until his father overheard him.
“What is that you just said?” Stuart asked, concerned.
“Menderatu,” James said, sheepishly.
“We do not speak such words in the magic tongue. It is a dark word. Where did you hear it?”
When James told him, his father quickly rushed him to the nearest empty cabin, and they transported off the boat.
“I was on a voyage with my father. I heard a man saying it,” James told Akil.
“Interesting,” Akil said, taking out his pipe and lighting it. “And does your father know this?”
“Yes, he told me never to say it. He told me it is a dark word. Is that true?”
“Words are words. Nothing more, nothing less. It is the user’s intent of the word that is good or evil. If you do not intend to use it for a dark purpose, I do not believe you should be restricted from using a word. Why limit our potential for fear of a word? As you have so aptly demonstrated, their use can yield powerful results.”
James nodded.
“Tell me, James. Are your parents aware that you can perform magic beyond that which they or your instructors have taught you?” Akil asked.
“No,” James said.
“Why not?”
James knew the answer, but for a nine-year-old it is never easy to express apprehensions. The pressure of being what his parents believed he would be often led James into bouts of deep insecurity and doubt. At times it would become so bad that he would refuse to do magic completely. There were other times, more often than not, when he would excel at a task so quickly that he would shock his instructors and parents alike. Rather than express happiness at his success, his parents would always exchange concerned glances. This happened with such frequency over the past several years that James actually began pretending he was struggling with his new lessons to avoid upsetting his parents. He believed they would be nothing but disappointed with the skills he had taught himself.
Akil had come because he wanted to find out firsthand why James was struggling with his lessons. It was clear that he was a gifted sorcerer, perhaps the most talented student Akil had ever seen. What he wouldn’t give to instruct him, but the time was not right. Akil smiled at James as he struggled for an answer.
“I want them to be happy with me,” James said.
“And you don’t believe they are happy with you when you are doing well?”
It was immediately clear to Akil that Stuart and Margaret were so concerned with keeping James from becoming overly confident that their reactions to his progress were having a detrimental effect. Had James shown a bit of arrogance as he demonstrated the exploding pillow incantation, or had it been confidence? Arrogance in a sorcerer is a dangerous thing. A poor sorcerer is far less dangerous than an arrogant one. Akil would have a word with James’s parents about how they were addressing this issue and the affect it was having.
“Sometimes I think they’re happier when I’m struggling,” James said.
“I see,” replied Akil. “Your swift understanding of your lessons is very important, James. It will most likely save your life.”