|The Mind Master
- John Heffernan
There is no doubt that some people can control others by using their
minds. Hypnotists are an obvious example. Leaders of cults and political
groups are another. It was said that Adolf Hitler could control huge
crowds simply with his eyes and his voice. People are able to communicate
through their thoughts, and force others to do as they wish. I suspect
that animals have such psychic powers as well. I’ve watched
a good sheep dog control a mob of sheep simply by eyeing them. In
a sense, such skill is a kind of magic, mind magic, for although we
know it exists we don’t really know how it works. I wanted to
write a story in which such mind magic was a potent force. Quentaris,
city of magic and mystery, seemed a perfect setting for such a tale.
Psykhan is the Mind Master. He is an evil character who has gathered
around himself a group of followers, slaves to his will, and plans
to seize power in Quentaris. But there is another mind master of sorts,
a simple youth called Torrad. Initially Torrad has no idea what powers
he possesses. But as the story progresses, he becomes more aware.
As this happens, though, he is gradually drawn into a web of intrigue
and murder which culminates in an almighty battle of wills with Psykhan
himself. From the depths of his evil mind, Psykhan hurls every mental
monster he can conjure. His foul thoughts take physical shape and
threaten to destroy not only Torrad, but the great city of Quentaris
itself. Torrad must use every ounce of his mind magic if he is to
The Mind Master is a story of mystery and intrigue, mayhem and murder.
But it also a tale in which the might of the mind invades the world
of matter. When thoughts take shape, the mind is master.
Can one boy change the course of Quentaran history?
Torrad, a young peasant, has uncovered an evil plot unfolding in Quentaris.
Help comes from many quarters: a young contessa, a crippled town crier,
a wolf-hound, the roach people, and Torrad's own hidden talents…
As the guards closed the heavy wrought iron gates of the Miragho mansion,
a hooded figure could be seen standing in a clump of trees at the
edge of the Idlers Gardens. The figure watched the young couple walk
down the paved driveway. At one point the young man did turn, briefly
staring towards the frees. But the girl tugged at his arm and they
continued on their way.
They reached the wide steps that led up to the front door of the mansion.
At the top of the steps stood Countess Miragho, a bevy of servants
behind her. Nerus ran up the steps and kissed the woman’s hand.
They spoke briefly, then entered the mansion.
The hooded figure waited for a moment after the large doors of the
mansion closed. Pale face peering from beneath the hood, thin lips
creased into a sneer. A claw-like hand emerged from the cloak and
rose to the lips. On one bony finger was a gold ring inset with the
image of an eagle. The thin lips pressed themselves against the image.
Then the figure fumed and disappeared in an instant. Anyone watching
would have said it vanished into thin air.