Earth Magic: The Last Mage, #2

By J. L. Jerard

SOPHIE SHOULD BE HAPPY.

 

THE FOREST MAGE IS REAL, AND HER TRAINING HAS BEGUN.

 

But just when it seems she has finally found her place in this strange new world of magic and talking animals, it all comes crashing down. 

 

The community she's so desperate to belong to doesn't trust her. Her magic isn't behaving as it should. And her twisted uncle has been given free rein over her. 

 

Can Sophie juggle her parallel lives?

 

Can she survive her uncle's hatred, or the evil lurking in the shadows of the Black Forest?

 

And will she ever win the acceptance of the community she loves?

 

 

Earth Magic is Book Two in The Last Mage Series from J. L. Jerard, author of The Little Mage and Quest

• Language: English
• Publisher: J. L. Jerard
• Release date: Jan 8, 2023
• ISBN: 9781739589813

Book preview

Chapter One

SOPHIE FELT THE magic even before she opened her eyes; a web-like mesh of thrumming energy that wrapped itself around the watermill, hiding it from sight.

She squeezed her eyes shut, not wanting to open them in case it wasn’t real.

In case it had just been a dream.

But as the drowsy fog of sleep slowly slipped away and her awareness extended beyond her skull, everything she felt confirmed it: the duvet engulfing her was thick and the mattress soft. It didn’t reek of mould. She wasn’t shivering, or afraid, and the swirling knot of tension in the pit of her stomach was replaced with something else.

Something substantial!

Sophie grinned as she remembered the huge plate of food she had consumed before going to bed. For the first time since arriving at the isolated cottage she now called home, her stomach wasn’t growling and cramping with hunger.

Still grinning, she gradually opened her eyes, confirming what she already knew. It wasn’t just a dream. She wasn’t in her own bed, or even at Last Cottage. She was tucked up in the most comfortable bed she had ever slept in, at the ruined watermill, deep in the Black Forest.

The Forest Mage was real!

He’d agreed to teach her everything he knew about earth magic - the magic that was in all living things. Sophie’s focus shifted to the densely packed Sitka spruce of the Black Forest surrounding her. She could feel its magic pulsing and flowing. Strange how different it was in almost every way to the shimmering, ethereal magic that made the watermill look like nothing more than a heap of old stones. Or perhaps it really was just a heap of old stones, and the magic somehow created a fully functioning watermill.

She tore her attention away from the gossamer threads she could only sense - almost feeling, almost seeing them - and flinging back the duvet, she sprang out of bed.

Last night, she’d only seen as much of the room as the flickering candlelight illuminated. Now she could see every detail. It was beautiful. The walls and floor were of stone and the bedroom door was of solid oak with a wrought iron latch. It smelt clean and fresh, and it felt calm. She felt calm.

A frown clouded Sophie’s grey eyes. The feeling of safety was just a fleeting thing; she couldn’t stay here forever, no matter how much she wanted to. She squeezed her eyes shut and took a deep breath. Sometimes it caught her unawares, winding her like a kick to the stomach. Finding the Forest Mage had been one of the few good things that had happened since her mum... since losing her.

Sophie had a new family now.

She remembered meeting them for the first time; Aunt Maggie, flustered and panic-stricken; Albert silently seething. He’d made his feelings clear from the start. He despised Sophie. And now her fate was in his hands. From now on, he would decide what she could and couldn’t do.

How bad could it be, though? She’d messed up and now Albert was going to make her pay for it, but she could handle it. She didn’t mind chores. She was used to them.

Sophie bit her lip. She missed her mum so much it hurt. She’d give anything to turn back the clock if it meant she could spend just one more minute with her, despite all the weird and wonderful things that had happened.

It still seemed bizarre. She was a mage. Just like Ben. She could talk to animals; they could talk to her; and she’d just woken up in a ruin that wasn’t a ruin at all.

Pushing the aching sadness to one side, she raised her head, then opened the door of her room and peered out. The mill was deserted, the fireplace cold and though Ben had re-laid it, there was no sign of him. She padded over to where her duffel coat hung by the door and pulled it on.

‘Ben?’ she called out, and then louder, ‘Ben?’

Nothing.

She noticed a brown paper bag on the table. Inside was a thick hunk of home-made bread, some cheese, a handful of cob nuts and slices of dried apple. He must have made it for her before he left. At Last Cottage, she was lucky if she got one square meal a day!

She’d always been slim, lanky even; all elbows and knees, as her mum used to say. She wished she were more like her. Her mum was curvy and soft, with long auburn hair and a laugh that lit up the room. She was the life and soul of everything she ever did. Beautiful, funny, mysterious.

Sophie tagged along in her mother’s wake, all skin and bones; an ugly duckling with wispy, white-blonde hair, a nose that was too small for her face, and grey-blue eyes that were too big and which she kept lowered as she shuffled self-consciously behind her mum. Painfully shy, the naked jealousy of the wives her mum swept passed and the gawping of their husbands was a trial by ordeal; a series of them.

Sophie tugged her t-shirt away from her skinny frame. As thin as she was to start with, she’d lost weight since moving in with her aunt and uncle. A lot of it. Food filled her thoughts and even her dreams.

Angry at the self-pity welling up inside and threatening tears, Sophie grabbed the paper bag, slammed the door shut behind her and rushed out into the forest.

By the time she’d run down the valley to the woodland - the village nestling in the base of the valley beyond the oaks and ash trees - and then up the mountain through scrubby, sheep shorn fields, she was red faced and drenched in sweat. She took a moment to catch her breath before easing open the ancient, aluminium framed window, hoisting herself up onto the ledge, and slipping through the gap to her bedroom; a feat she performed so often she made it look easy. She was back, and as far as her aunt and uncle were concerned, she’d been safely tucked up in bed all night.

‘Finally!’

Sophie jumped, almost colliding with the rusty storage heater next to her window. She scanned the room, her eyes widening with surprise and relief at the thick, scaled tail poking out from under her bed. A large, brown rat waddled out, blowing dust from his shoulders.

‘Whiskers! What are you doing here? It’s so risky. What if my aunt saw you... or my uncle!’

Whiskers rolled his eyes. ‘That pair? Really, Sophie. Do you think so little of me?’ He grinned, revealing needle-sharp teeth, but the smile vanished, and a frown clouded his face.

‘What is it?’

‘I have a message, Sophie. From the War Council. I’ve held them off for as long as possible to give you a chance to find your paws and settle in a bit, but they will wait no longer. We leave at dawn on the next full moon.’

Sophie nodded, her stomach somersaulting. The War Council; created by elders from the woodland and valley. They had formed a council and raised an army to fight for it.

Whiskers had already told her the War Council wanted to meet her, but she hadn’t given it a lot of thought at the time. She’d been applying a healing poultice to a friend’s wound - too scared the green, evil smelling slime she’d made wouldn’t work... or worse, that it would finish him off!

Luckily, the poultice had worked like a charm, but as far as the woodlanders were concerned, it just made her even more outlandish than she already was. They didn’t like her. They certainly didn’t trust her. But... if she could impress the War Council with her magi powers, the woodlanders might give her a chance. It could change everything.

The problem was that she wasn’t ready. She hadn’t even started her training.

‘Don’t worry,’ said Whiskers, jumping onto her bedside table and then leaping across to the windowsill. ‘It will be fine. Rupert will be there. He’ll look after you.’

‘Your brother?’

‘Yes.’

‘But I thought Rosie said he was good for nothing and not to be trusted?’

Whiskers coughed. ‘Well. That’s as maybe. But he’ll have me to answer to if anything untoward happens, and he knows it. Don’t you worry.’ Sophie gave a tight smile, feeling anything but reassured by his words. ‘I’ll meet you first thing tomorrow morning, so make sure you're up and ready well before dawn. We’ll have quite the trek ahead of us.’

Sophie nodded again and watched as he slipped through the hole next to the window frame. She covered it with the curtain.

When she’d first arrived, she’d been horrified at how cold it was here. Now, though, the hole was useful. It meant Whiskers, and more often his kit and her good friend, Rory, could visit without having to risk the back door.

She sank onto the bed and buried her face in her hands.

It was too soon. Way too soon. But there was nothing she could do about it. She’d just have to hope that it wasn’t the complete disaster she imagined it would be. And right now, she had whatever punishment Albert had devised to deal with. It wouldn’t be cleaning the car because Aunt Maggie used it for work, and she couldn’t imagine Albert knowing enough about gardening to have her weeding the vegetable plot. That left housework. No doubt the grossest, dirtiest job of all.

‘Great. Just great. He’ll have me cleaning the toilet for a month.’

Chapter Two

‘SOPHIE? SOPHIE? DINNERS on the table. Don’t forget to wash your hands, will you.’

Sophie blinked. She must have fallen asleep. She was clutching the duvet as if her life depended on it and her fingers were stiff and sore when she released it. Her punishment had been to empty the back porch, sweep it and then scrub it on her hands and knees; it had taken so long that every muscle in her body ached, but she barely gave them a second thought; the very first thing on her mind was Ben. Did Aunt Maggie and Albert ever have an early night? The sooner they went to bed, the sooner she could slip away.

Her heart sank when she saw the tiny portion on her plate; she was ravenous, but she bit her lip and took her place at the table in silence. Food was all she could think about these days. It was infuriating that it could have this effect on her. At least it was edible this time; thank goodness for mashed potatoes and baked beans. She tried to take her time and savour every mouthful. All too soon, she finished, waiting in silence as Aunt Maggie gushed about how clean the back porch looked and wasn’t it wonderful that Sophie and Albert were spending so much time together and what a good team they made.

While she blathered on, Albert stared at Sophie, his pale eyes oozing hatred.

Aunt Maggie was oblivious to it all. She didn’t notice how hard it was for Sophie to hold back hot tears of humiliation and anger. She didn’t notice the twisted smile of satisfaction on Albert's face.

At last, the ordeal came to an end. Albert and Aunt Maggie settled down for an evening in front of the television, leaving Sophie to clear the table and wash the pots, grabbing cutlery and dishes and scrubbing them viciously, as if they were responsible for everything.

As soon as she finished the pots, she slipped out of the kitchen and escaped to her bedroom, barricading herself in once more. She waited until she was sure they were in bed before pulling on her damp duffel coat and her mud-spattered trainers.

As she stood up to go, her stomach grumbled and she swayed, grabbing the window ledge to steady herself as a wave of dizziness washed over her. When it passed and she felt steady on her feet again, she scurried down the mountain, turned her back on the village nestling in the base of the valley and followed the river upstream till she reached the Black Forest.

Once again, when she arrived at the moss-covered ruins of the old watermill and rang the bell hanging from what was once a gatepost, the watermill sprang into life. It was as though ringing it summoned the mill from some other place or time; it wasn’t there, and then suddenly it was.

Impressive.

Ben opened the door and smiled, his face collapsing into a sea of wrinkles. Everything about him was soft; his twinkling, chestnut eyes; his wispy, white hair that had only just been released from the flat cap he always wore; his weather-beaten skin, tanned to a dark olive. Even his clothes - old corduroy trousers and a maroon jumper with patches on the elbow. She hardly knew him and yet Sophie couldn’t help but feel joy just at the sight of him.

Ben nodded at her, beckoning her inside towards the crackling fire. Before settling into his armchair, he rummaged through small glass jars on a shelf over the kitchen sink and returned holding one full of a jelly-like substance. He took Sophie’s hands which were raw from hours of scrubbing and, without saying a word, smoothed salve over her blisters. Who knew a simple toothbrush could cause so much pain?

Sophie gasped and then relaxed as the stinging subsided and the cream soothed her skin. ‘Thank you,’ she whispered.

Ben just smiled, then replaced the jar, washed his hands, and settled into his chair. They sat in silence, studying the flames, but Sophie couldn’t hold back anymore; there were too many unanswered questions for quiet relaxation.

‘Are there monsters in the Black Forest, Ben? Or... evil things... creatures? Whiskers... (he’s a rat I met... a talking one), he said it was an evil place and I should never come here. Have you ever seen anything like that? Monsters, I mean... but talking rats too. Oh! And I was wondering when we could start my training and what exactly the training would be? Will you teach me how to heal properly, because the magi are healers, aren’t they? and I have this book now...’ She stopped, aware that she was babbling and blushed, hugging her knees to her chest.

‘So many questions! Well, I can say with the utmost confidence that there are no monsters here, or anywhere!’ Ben smiled and somehow sank a little deeper into the armchair. ‘Do you think I’d let you come here if it was dangerous? No, you’re quite safe here. And yes, we will begin your training very soon. As for books... I have only three books of magi lore and learning.’ He pointed to the bookcase in the alcove by the chimney. Sophie counted only five books in total and they all looked ancient. ‘Earth magic is learnt more through practice and observation. I’ll tell you and show you everything you need to know. And you must never write anything down yourself; that kind of knowledge in the wrong hands... well. It doesn’t bear thinking about.’

‘But the book I found...’ interrupted Sophie, ‘... and there were other books with strange symbols too... I’m sure they’re to do with healing and earth magic.’

‘The writings of the magi are not to be ‘found’ by chance,’ retorted Ben, shaking his head. ‘They aren’t kept in libraries or bookshops. Only the Master’s have copies of the few texts ever written. And we don’t use symbols or have secret handshakes, either. You’ve been reading too many fairy stories.’

Sophie nodded, wishing she hadn’t asked. How old did Ben think she was? She hadn’t read a fairy story since she was a kid. Anyway, the Book of Remedies was real, and she knew the remedies worked because she’d used one of them to heal Flash. It had saved the young rabbit’s life. So, who had written the Book of Remedies? She remembered the sketch of the woman in