Magicians' Folly: Book One

By Spring Horton

 Magic in Britain is dying. Fewer and fewer people are able to learn the skills and those that do are finding their abilities diminished. No one seems to know why. Ianto, a mysterious, solitary Magician from a sea-swept coast in Wales, has a theory and a plan . All he needs is help; something he'd prefer not to have to ask for. He manages to round up a rag tag bunch, including gentleman Magician Basil and his bumbling pupil, Culpepper, the somewhat off her rocker Lady Magician, Winifred, and the spirit of the long dead John Pennyworth. Together they will discover why magic is dying and, with a little luck and talent, restore it to health.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Spring Horton
• Release date: Oct 31, 2015
• ISBN: 9781519981677

Book preview

Acknowledgements

Once again, I’d like to thank a certain someone for allowing me to use their likeness yet again and for always believing in me and being ready for any crazy idea I suggest. I’d also like to give a big, heart felt, thanks to Merlin and the Priory Tavern for allowing me to use this cozy, wonderful pub in my book. Yes, readers, this is a real place and you really can find it nestled off the Kilburn High Road. My fondest memories of London all reside in that pub.

Part One:

The Merman & The Toff

Chapter One

I wonder, pray tell, if there’s any particular reason you’ve dragged us to the Isle of Skye?

I glared in the direction of the complaint and something sinister must have shown in my eyes for I saw little Culpepper nervously glance up at his teacher.

Basil only sighed and gave me a look of contempt though. Well? I was in my study, having a perfectly good nap when you burst in, ranting about how we must get to Skye! Then you grabbed my arm and shoved me out a window. I believe that deserves some kind of explanation. Then he proceeded to cross his arms and wait.

I told you before that Skye was important, but you never listen, I answered.

Basil harrumphed at me and announced, That’s because I’m generally too busy with matters a little less enigmatic in nature.

I narrowed my eyes and spat, Such a toffer!

My colleague puffed out his chest, his eyes popping in surprise, and answered, Peasant!

And a royal fop if I ever saw one. What important matters could your idleness possibly be dealing with?

Basil stuttered as his pupil, Culpepper, slowly backed away. Before any of us could say anything more though, a female voice interrupted.

Gentlemen? Perhaps we could get back to the matter at hand?

Perhaps it would be prudent to enlighten you as to how we came to the current predicament. The year was 1881, predicted by some to be a very important magical year because of its transposed numbers. However, there was a problem with magic in general; it was dying. My name is Ianto and this is how the story began.

I’d felt this type of presence before. I couldn’t quite put my finger on where it was coming from, but magic was definitely afoot. I sat silently, at a table pushed back in the shadows of the corner pub. The corner pub just happened to sit off a High Road in North London and the publican who owned the place just happened to be named Merlin. Not that he was the Merlin, mind you, but it was a nice touch nonetheless. The large, airy pub, called the Priory Tavern, was beloved by Magicians and locals alike. The drinking was good, the staff friendly, and on many a winter’s evening it seemed to have the only spot of warmth in all of London.

Still, I was a bit out of my element. I’d grown up on a wind-swept coast in Wales and had only come to London because that’s what Magician’s do when they want to solicit the help of other Magicians. Or at least, borrow some magical books. I would have preferred the latter and continued working on my own, but I could sense that circumstances were very much beyond that now. Frankly, I found it odd how few others seemed to notice.

Slowly, my eyes scanned the room for the source of the magic. Unfortunately, it didn’t take long to find. Standing at the front of the bar (for this establishment had a round bar, in the middle of the pub) was a tall, ever so slightly chubby fellow. His hair was dark and curly and parted severely, which gave him the impression that he was trying to tame the curls, but to no avail. His hands moved with dramatic flourishes as he talked and, now and then, some small amazement would happen; someone’s glass would fly into his hand or a hat would levitate from one gentleman’s head to another. This trivial show of magic would please the crowd immensely and a great chattering would fill the air. I, on the other hand, only scowled and wished it had been a different Magician I’d stumbled upon. Magicians were getting scarce though these days so I knew I had to take what I can get.

I sneaked around to the backside, where there were fewer people and I wouldn’t be seen, and sat down on a stool. I stared at the unknown Magician’s back until I could stand it no longer. Then I slipped some powder from a small pocket on the inside of my coat. I whispered a few words and then blew the powder onto the back of the tall man’s neck. He started and his conversation dropped off mid-sentence. He swatted at his neck, which drew a soft chuckle from me, and then he turned on his heel. Our eyes locked immediately and mine said, in no uncertain terms, that I would prove much more interesting company than that he currently held. He turned back to the crowd, somewhat nervously, and politely excused himself. After many apologies, he was finally able to escape his admirers and followed me to the back door. While there was a modicum of honor amongst Magicians, that didn’t mean that the well-dressed gentleman trusted me enough to join me in a darkened alley. As we stood at the door, he looked me over with