“See,” he said triumphantly. “I told you I could make it work.”
“Shut it off!” Moira’s green eyes were wide and her freckles stood out vividly against her suddenly pallid skin. “Please shut it off.”
The wind was stronger now, a stiff force against Wiz’s back. Wisps of snow and leaves on the forest floor began to stir and move toward the rising air. Even as Wiz started the spell and the wind rose even higher. Moira’s shawl was long gone in the the uprising gale.
The wind grabbed leaves and twigs off the ground and hurled them into the sky. The trees around the clearing bowed inward and their branches clattered as they were forced toward the column of air rising out of the clearing.
“Do something!” Moira shouted over the force of the wind.
“I’m trying,” Wiz shouted back. He recited the counter-spell, inaudible in the howling wind. Nothing happened. The gale grew stronger and Wiz backed up against a stout tree to keep from being pushed forward.
He realized he had made a mistake in the wording and swore under his breath Again he tried the counter spell. Again nothing.
In designing the spell Wiz had made a serious error. the only way to undo it was to reverse the process of creating it. There was no word which could shut the flow of air off quickly.
Meanwhile the wind was picking up, gaining even more force. Now the leaves and twigs were supplemented by small branches torn from the trees around them. With a tremendous CRACK and a thunderous CRASH, a nearby forest giant, rotten in its core, blew over and toppled halfway into the clearing.
The wind was so great Wiz was forced to cling to the tree trunk to keep from being swept up in the raging vortex of air. Moira was invisible through the mass of dirt, leaves, snow and debris being pulled into the air. Desperately Wiz tried the counterspell again. Again nothing.
The vertical hurricane carried denser ground air aloft. As it rose the pressure lessened and the water vapor in the air condensed out. Heart’s Ease was marked by a boiling, towering mushroom cloud that could be seen for miles.
In the heart of a raging hurricane Wiz forced himself to think calmly. Again he reviewed the spell, going through it step by step as if he were back in front of his terminal. Taking a deep breath and ignoring the howling in his ears, he recited the spell again, slowly and deliberately.
The wind cut off as if by a switch.
The clearing was quiet save for the sound of branches falling back to earth and crashing through the trees around them. Moira was wet and disheveled, her red hair a tangled mess from the buffetting it had received from the wind.
“Of course there are still a few bugs in the system,” Wiz said lamely.
“Ohhh,” Moira hissed. “I don’t want to talk to you.” She spun away from him.
“All right. So it wasn’t perfect. But it worked didn’t it? And I shut it off didn’t I?”
Moira shuddered with barely suppressed rage. But when she turned to face him she was icy calm.
“What you have done is less than any new-entered apprentice could do, were his master so foolish as to allow it,” she said coldly. “Not only have you proved that you have no aptitude for the Craft, you have shown you have no honor as well.”
“Now wait a minute . . .”
“No!” Moira held up a hand to silence him. “You gave your word that you would not attempt to reduce the things Shiara told you to practice. Now you boast of having violated that oath almost from the beginning and with no shred of excuse. You were not driven to forswear yourself by need. You did so only for your own amusement.”
“Shiara didn’t teach me . . .”
“Shiara taught you far more than was good for either of you,” Moira snapped. “You have proven yourself unworthy of her teaching and of her trust.” She paused and considered. “Normally a matter such as this would be handled by your master. But you,” she sneered, “have no master.”