"Craig Shaw Gardner - Ebenezum 01 - A Malady of Magicks" - читать интересную книгу автора (Gardner Craig Shaw)

The spear seemed to have a few primitive charms painted on it. Oh, so that was all it was. Just
another assassination attempt. In a way, I was disappointed. For a moment, I had thought it might be
something serious.
So it began again. By this time, I must admit these assassination things had grown quite tiresome. All
thoughts of my afternoon beauty had fled from my mind. As boringly regular as these attacks had
become, it would still not do to become too lax in our response.
I looked to my master. The wizard Ebenezum, one of the most learned men upon this huge
continent we now traversed, nodded briskly and held his nose.
I placed my hands in the basic third conjuring position. Taking a deep breath, I stepped from
concealment.
“Halt, villains!” I cried.
The warriors did nothing to acknowledge my warning, instead bounding across the field toward me
with redoubled fury. Their leader’s tangled blond hair bounced as he ran, a mobile bird’s nest above his
brow. He hurled another spear, almost tripping with the effort. His aim was not very good.
I quickly wove a magic pattern with my hands. During the last few days of our headlong flight,
Ebenezum had taken what few rest periods we could manage to teach me some basic sign magic. It was
all quite simple, really. After you had mastered a few easy gestures, earth, air, fire, and water were yours
to command.
Still, I didn’t want to try anything too difficult for my first solo endeavor. Another spear whistled
through the air, almost impaling the leader of the warrior band from the rear. The leader yelped and
stopped his headlong charge. He was close enough that I could see the anger in his pale blue eyes.
Infuriated, he spun to lecture his men on appropriate spear-throwing technique. Ebenezum waved
from the trees for me to get on with it. It would be a simple spell, then. I decided I would move the earth
with my magic and create a yawning pit in which our pursuers would be trapped. I began making the
proper movements with my elbows and left leg, at the same time whistling the first four bars of “The
Happy Woodcutter’s Song.”
The warriors screamed as one and ran toward me with even greater speed. I hurried my spell as
well, hopping once, skipping twice, scratching my head, and whistling those four bars again.
The sky suddenly grew dark. My magic was working! I pulled my left ear repeatedly, blowing my
nose in rhythmic bursts.
A great mass of orange dropped from the heavens.
 I paused in my gyrations. What had I done? A layer of orange and yellow covered the field and the
warriors. And the layer was moving.
It took me a moment to discern the layer’s true nature. Butterflies! Somehow, I had conjured
millions of them. They flew wildly about the field, doing their best to get away from the warriors. The
warriors, in turn, sputtered and choked and waved their arms feverishly about, doing their best to get
away from the butterflies.
I had made a mistake somewhere in my spell; that much was obvious. Luckily, the resulting butterfly
multitude was enough of a diversion to give me time to correct my error. I reviewed my movements. I
had spent hours perfecting my elbow flaps. The hop, the skips, the scratch, everything seemed in its
place. Unless I was supposed to lift my right leg rather than my left?
Of course! How stupid of me! I immediately set out to repeat the spell and correct my mistake.
The warriors seemed to have won free of the butterflies at last. Breathing heavily, some leaning on
their swords, they gave a ragged yell and staggered forward. I finished my humming and started to blow
my nose.
The sky grew dark again. The warriors paused in their hesitant charge and looked aloft with some
trepidation.
This time it rained fish. Dead fish.
The warriors left with what speed they could muster, slipping and sliding through a field now
covered with crushed butterflies and thousands of dead haddock. I decided it was time for us to leave as