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“I can’t believe it,” Shea said.
The three of them stopped their horses before the gate that led to the Pass of Hearn, over the Fangs. It was clearly made to keep things out, as it didn’t even appear to have a lock or a way to open. It was one solid piece of steel, different than the gates at the front of the city.
And it was blasted open.
“How does someone just open a gate like this?” the lieutenant continued, walking his horse slowly through the open gate, then turning around to look at it from the other side. “This wasn’t even made like a gate. One piece of the strongest, thickest steel, with no way to move it. It was made so nothing could open it. From either side.”
“Magic,” Whiskey said. “Very strong magic.”
“Why did they put it there in the first place?” Rain asked as they continued walking past the gate on a dirt path that was clearly seldom used. “Shea, you said something about protection from monsters?”
“All I know from my studies is that there were rumors of evil things on the move on the other side—this side—of the Fangs, because of the banishment. Now I know, it was the moon elves,” Shea said. “It wasn’t safe, and people needed protection.”
“So that’s the story the Knights made up, eh?” Whiskey chuckled. “I bet you’d appreciate a little history. The true kind. I found my way across the Fangs myself, even after that gate was made. With you,” he said to Rain. “Of course, I didn’t come through Highgate. I had to cross the Balbriggan Sea and sail to Eastcastle. At that time, it was near impossible to find a boatman willing to take the journey. People said that Sea was filled with demons, and storms were so frequent, no one ever returned.” He shook his head. “You have to understand, banishing a whole civilization to a different world doesn’t come without consequences. Myrna had done something no one had ever before tried, though people had written volumes about cross-world travel on a small scale. She released beings of all kinds, both dark and light, upon this world. That’s probably where the demons in the Balbriggan came from. There had to be an equal transfer of spirits between worlds.
“No, the real reason they created the gate-made-wall wasn’t just simple fear of evil beasts. It was a fear of magic itself. The human representatives at the Council found out about the devastation Myrna had wreaked, and decided they wanted to purge their world of magic. In their minds, getting rid of magic completely was better than risking the dark side of it. For the other beings in the Council, magic was their livelihood. Many beings were born with it, and couldn’t help it being a part of them. The humans decided to barricade themselves from the world of magic, and have since never been a part of the Council. Anyone seen doing magic in their lands was put to death. They decided getting rid of magic completely was better than risking the dark side of it.
“This was the real reason the Knights of Callaghan were created,” he said, looking at Shea. “They were the ones ‘protecting’ us from magic. They were the ones investigating strange happenings and putting magic-users to death.”
Shea frowned at Whiskey, but nodded. “I’m not surprised. We were taught that the first Knights were heroes, doing us a favor. Protecting us from harm.”
“They don’t teach you the full history, do they?” Whiskey shook his head. “Magic can be used to heal. To create. People who practiced that kind of magic were put to death just as often as those practicing blacker magic. And believe me, there were more people practicing good magic than bad. The ‘Great Darkness’ wasn’t just the coming of demons and dark creatures from other worlds. It was also the mass killing of magic-users. The humans’ loss of magic.”
Rain looked at Shea, going over in her head the things she’d heard people say about the Knights. One or two people had said they purged the world of magic. Not many said it, but she remembered hearing it. She realized Shea had to have been surrounded by people with opposing beliefs for years, and was amazed at his strength of will.
“I hope you can find it in yourself to trust me,” Shea said earnestly. “I know you have no reason to believe me. That I’m on your side. Except perhaps my aegis.”
Whiskey smiled at him. “No, boy, I have more reason to believe you. You know that Rain has magic. I understand the Knights better than you know. I’ve had to deal with them. If you were one of them, you would have let Rain be killed last night. Made it look like an accident. I believe you.”
Rain nodded at Shea, assuring him that she agreed with Whiskey.
“Thank you,” Shea said, grinning. “You have no idea how glad I am to hear it.”
“Now, about your aegis,” Whiskey said. “Your father must have taken it from a Council member, because only Council members have them. We all received them many years ago to help protect us from the threat of spirit magic. I don’t clearly remember if the human representatives received them as well. But I think the humans, the Knights, were in some denial about their protection. They thought a simple steel wall could hold the demons back. That not being a part of the Council would shield them from the threat. Perhaps, whatever way your father got the aegis, he wore it because he knew of Myrna.”
Shea was silent for a minute as they continued on the dirt path. “I appreciate you telling me what you know, anyway.”
“We’ll find out what really happened to your parents. Your years in silence won’t be for nothing,” Whiskey said, as sincerely as Rain had ever known him to be.
***
The land grew steadily steeper, and a sharp, bitterly cold wind began to blow around them. As they reached a higher elevation, snow began to fall around them, and the grass disappeared under inches of snow. Whiskey seemed to know the paths that kept them out of snow that was too deep.
When it came time to make camp, Whiskey found a spot of relatively dry land. While Shea took care of the horses, Whiskey pulled Rain aside.
“I think we’re safe from prying eyes here. Are you ready for a magic lesson?”
She wanted to, but her hands were shaking from the cold, and she couldn’t seem to find any warmth in her cloak. “Now? Can’t we make a fire first?”
“That’s the thing. It’s hard to find wood worth burning up here, and I have an idea. It might be a little advanced for you, but it’s worth a try.”
Rain nodded reluctantly.
They sat on the ground facing each other. “Close your eyes, it might be easier for you to concentrate,” Whiskey said. She did so. “Hold your hands face-up on your knees. Imagine the power of creation flows through you. You can create anything. Now, see a wooden log, like you’d use for a fire, in your hands. Feel the rough texture of the bark, smell the aroma of the wood.” They sat for a moment in silence, and Rain did her best at imagining what he’d said.
Her hands warmed, despite the chilly air. Suddenly, she did feel the rough texture of the bark in her hands, and she opened her eyes. A perfect replica of the log she imagined sat in her hands, which glowed orange.
She glanced over to where Shea was caring for the horses and noticed he was staring.
“Amazing job,” Whiskey said. “I didn’t think you would catch on so quickly.”
“How did I do it? Where does it come from?”
“It comes from you. There is a sort of energy-well inside you that is drained when you use magic. I don’t have a well—I use the other elements surrounding me as an energy source.”
She nodded. “I take it you want me to make enough for a fire?”
“Exactly.”
Over the next few minutes, Rain made a few more logs. It drained her quickly, leaving her feeling like she’d ridden a few more miles than she had.
“I feel so tired,” she said after her sixth log.
“You can stop,” Whiskey said. “Don’t strain yourself. The most important thing about magic is to know your limit—how deep your well is. Each shade of innate magic has its own limit. So far you’ve tried red in the forest back home, and orange here. If you go too far, you could pass out, and leave yourself vulnerable. There are ways to extend your limit artificially, but if you go too far with that, you could kill yourself.”
Rain let the orange energy drain from her and must have looked frightened, because Whiskey said, “Don’t worry. I know you’ll be able to stop yourself when you need to. And, the more you practice each color, the greater your limit.”
“Thanks,” she said, and reached over to hug him. “I know you meant well, keeping my magic from me. But I’m glad you can teach me to use it.” She pulled back and smiled. “It’s exciting. Something I can look forward to, when so much is going wrong.”
Whiskey put his hand on her shoulder, his familiar comforting gesture. “I’m honored to teach you. I think you’ll be a great student.”
They both stood up, and while Whiskey set about building the fire, she went over to the horses and rubbed Pan’s neck.
“That was amazing,” Shea said, finishing feeding the horses. “I didn’t know magic could do that.”
“I didn’t either,” Rain laughed. “If I can make a wooden log appear out of nowhere, imagine what else I could do…”
“I think I’ll soon be very glad we’re on the same side,” he smiled.
She glanced at the sword strapped to his hip. “You’re pretty deadly yourself with that sword, I’m sure.” She rubbed Pan’s snout and looked away. She wondered if there was any part of him that would be capable of hating magic. Whiskey had made it quite clear what the Knights of Callaghan were really after. “Why are you so set on protecting me?” she asked, thinking of how he’d acted during the wolf attack.
Their eyes met, and the greenness of his startled her. “I’m just used to it. I haven’t ever met a woman like you. They tend to be incapable of defending themselves, preferring to run instead of fight.”
“I’m sure they’re not all like that. But as you know, I’m no woman,” she said, chuckling, turning away from his strong gaze. “Is there even a word for ‘female elf’?” She shook her head. “I don’t know. A bow and arrow just feels so right in my hands. Like it’s meant to be there.”
“It’s probably a typical moon elf weapon,” Shea said. “You’re feeling your roots.”
“Yeah.” Their gaze met again, possibly for a little too long. “That magic drained me,” she said quickly. “I think Whiskey’s got the fire going by now. I should sleep.”
“I won’t keep you from it any longer. Go ahead. I’ll try to get a little shut-eye myself.” He turned to his black horse and fed him a small apple, rubbing his nose affectionately.
***
They traveled at a brisk pace the next day, sometimes on paths wide enough for them to ride side by side, sometimes on steep, narrow cliff faces where they could only ride single file. Snow fell occasionally, and Rain sometimes called a little red or orange energy to her to warm her hands. She felt like it was cheating, but reassured herself that it was in fact necessary to expand her abilities.
As the sun was setting and Rain felt like her legs were going numb from riding so much, the land sloped downward and she knew they were finally nearing the edge of the pass. The mountains of the Fangs were so large; she wasn’t surprised it would take them nearly three days to ride the length of the pass. They spent another night around a fire made of logs Rain created.
The next day they were out of the pass by midday, traveling on a road through low hills and expanses of grass. It was unusual for Rain to see this much land unused by people. A river ran near the road, and once or twice they crossed a small wooden bridge. That night and the next day, they kept their fires low, since it was easy to see a far distance on these plains.
Every night, Whiskey would give her a short magic lesson. They would use red or orange, using strength or creating things. When they didn’t need much wood for a fire, she would try similar things, like kindling or hay as a treat for the horses. It was difficult to imagine things exactly right, and sometimes it took a few tries. Every day she felt she could do a little more.
Finally they could see the edges of a great forest. It was nearing nightfall. Soon they began to walk among the trees; great aged monoliths much older than any tree Rain had seen back home.
“Welcome to Ellwood, home to the elves, among other peoples, and the Council.” Whiskey stopped his horse and led them away from the path into a clearing. “This is as good a place as we’ll find here to stop.”
Rain couldn’t believe she was soon about to meet a race of people she’d only read about in books. People who could use the earth’s elements to their advantage. “What exactly is our plan? Where are we headed in Ellwood?”
“The plan is to call on the Council to see what they know about Myrna and the moon elves, and then go from there,” Whiskey said. “We will not have time to linger in the city for very long, or anywhere else along the way.” He started unpacking the food from the saddlebags.
The rest of the evening was uneventful and strangely quiet. The trees of Ellwood seemed to be of one entity, though Rain couldn’t place how she knew. They loomed above them like giants, listening to their every word. The sounds of the forest filled their ears and they were lost in them and in their thoughts, resting their tired limbs.
***
A single torch attached to the wall shone in the darkness. The stale, dusty smell of the dark stone corridor filled Rain’s senses. She gingerly touched the wall and a layer of dust stuck to her finger. The darkness before her seemed to swallow the small torch light like the mouth of a demon. She glanced behind her and saw the corridor continued on, similarly smothered in darkness. Fear inched its way through her body, sending a shudder through her bones. Slight warmth just below her neck soothed her, and she grasped the aegis for comfort. The darkness seemed to become colder in response, and chills ran up and down her body. She picked up the torch from its holder in the wall. Sudden images of evil spirits and monsters that could be hiding behind her urged her forward into the corridor.
As she walked, her traveling boots disturbed the thin layer of dirt and dust that covered the floor. She jumped when another torch burst into flame on the wall. She was sure the torch she held hadn’t touched the one on the wall. Thinking it might continue down the hall, she put the first torch back and continued on. Sure enough, one after the other, torches burst to life along the wall.
After a short time, she walked past the torch in front of her and expected another one to flare up, but her boots began to echo. She had the strange sensation that she was walking into a cavern. She gasped as the torches along the walls of the room lit up one after another. The corridor had led her into an immense room, the ceiling’s height barely discernible despite the sudden brightness. Columns lined the cavernous space, and the walls to her left and right were covered with intricate paintings, showing paradises and hellish places alike. She stepped closer to the wall on her right to see a depiction of vast rolling hills of green grass and sunlight. It somehow reminded her of home. Beneath it was a similar landscape, but the grass was grayish brown and dark clouds filled the sky. Knobbed white things poked out of the ground. Bones? Despite her tendency to curiosity, she didn’t want to know. The sheer number of the small paintings filled her with a strange mixture of awe and fear. She followed the wall, seeing lush forests and hot deserts, jagged cliffs and dark, barren seas. Somehow she knew none of the pictures were depictions of places on earth. Something was different about them.
When she reached the end of the room, she looked behind her and was struck with the vastness of the place. The paintings continued up the wall until they were swallowed by the blackness above, the ceiling hidden. Turning back around to the wall that faced her, the drawings seemed to change. In front of her, they faded into a solid dark brown and materialized into a door. It was twice her height and at least four times her width, the top of it arching. There was a torch lit just above the top of the door, spilling light over intricate designs of vines and leaves along the doorframe.
She heard a whisper in the room. Whipping around, she looked for the source of the sound. There was only the flickering of torchlight, continuing on past the room into the corridor beyond.
The whispering continued. At first, she couldn’t understand the voice, but it soon was loud enough to hear clearly. “Open,” it said. Others joined it, until the room was filled with the eerie whispers of unseen voices. “Open, open the door.”
Her hands shook as she searched the door before her for a handle, not just on impulse to do what the voices were saying, but to get away from them. The darker, more sinister places on the walls ran through her head. What was behind the door?
She suddenly realized there was no handle. How was she to go in? Scared of the unseen voices and of what lay ahead, she gripped the aegis tighter in her left hand. Somehow, its soothing touch wasn’t working. She took a deep breath, trying to calm down. If she needed a handle, she’d make one. In her mind, she imagined the door with a handle. Her right hand was still placed on the door, and it began to tingle and grow warm.
Orange light licked her fingers and slid off her palm, touching the wood under her hand. A piece of metal materialized from the light, and in no time her hand was grasping a carved golden handle in the shape of a key, as long as her hand from the bottom of her palm to the tip of her fingers. She’d only imagined a simple wooden handle. All around her, the voices grew louder, urging her to pull the handle and open the door.
She began to pull. Her breaths were ragged and shaky, her arms and legs weak, her whole body suddenly a combination of exhaustion and anxiousness. Creating the handle had taken more out of her than she realized.
Finally the door opened silently, revealing what seemed to be a black screen of nothingness, no part of it illuminated by the bright torchlight around her. It seemed to suck in the light like a sponge. The torches dimmed. She stepped back, suddenly more afraid of the blackness than the voices around her. They began talking in foreign tongues, and though she was unable to understand exactly what they said, they seemed to whisper of dark things, sinister whispers and frightened screeches. She continued slowly walking backwards, leaving the door ajar, afraid the nothingness in front of her would soak her in like the light of the torches.
Two red pinpricks of light appeared in the doorway, and the blackness grew arms and fingers. A shadow emerged from the nothingness, its own whispers drowning out the other voices in the room. A dreamwalker. “Join me,” it said, “come with me into the dark. Disappear, vanish, sink into eternal sleep.”
Her will seemed to be zapped from her, the dreamwalker absorbing her energy. Fear leaked in to replace it, her aegis not protecting her. She couldn’t move. Her eyelids drooped, and she felt exhausted. A part of her mind felt that eternal sleep would not be such a bad idea.
“Rain! Wake up!” The sound of the voice brought her to her senses. As she came out of her cocoon of exhaustion and numbness, she realized she knew who it was. It drew her out of the fear, out of the dark.
She opened her eyes. Her blanket had once again wrapped and twisted around her from tossing and turning in her sleep. Her breaths came in ragged gasps and her face was wet with sweat and tears, though she didn’t distinctly remember crying. Whiskey and Shea kneeled next to her.
“Rain! You’re alright!” It was Shea’s voice that had brought her out of the dream. The lieutenant seemed about to embrace her, but instead took her hand and smiled.
“It almost had me,” she whispered. Her throat felt sore and her voice cracked. Her sleep seemed to have done nothing to get rid of the heavy tired feeling in her limbs.
“I couldn’t wake you,” Whiskey said. “Your forehead was burning up…” For a moment he seemed lost in thought. “The good thing is that you’re awake.”
“There was another dreamwalker,” she said.
Whiskey exchanged glances with Shea. “What was the dream about? Did anything happen that would have come through to reality?”
“I don’t know. I don’t think so. There was this hallway, and a chamber… I don’t think it could exist, though. I opened a door with my magic and the dreamwalker came out from behind it, urging me into ‘eternal sleep.’”
“You used your magic?” Whiskey said, frowning.
“Orange. I created a handle, but it didn’t end up exactly how I imagined it.”
“Rain, you have to be careful. If the dreamwalker was able to manipulate your magic, imagine what it could make you do. Maybe… I think you should stop using it for a while.”
“Stop using it?” Rain asked, exasperated. “We don’t even know if creating that door handle was a threat to anyone. I find out I have power I need to learn to use, and then I’m supposed to just stop using it? You said it yourself. It’s a part of me. Isn’t it just as dangerous if it happens when I don’t mean it to? If I learn enough, I can have more command of it, especially if it’s ever used by the dreamwalker again.”
“I agree,” Shea said, looking at Whiskey. “I know the dangers of magic all too well, but it seems like it would be better for her to know as much as possible about what she’s capable of.”
“I suppose,” Whiskey said. Rain knew he wasn’t convinced. “It’s strange though, you should be protected against dreams like that by this forest, even though we’re so close to the edge of the trees. There are barriers against spirit magic, put up after the havoc wreaked during the Great Darkness. It’s safer to practice your innate magic here. We shouldn’t have to worry about Damien or the ravens following us. But the barriers must be getting weaker somehow. It’s not a good sign.”
***
It took them nearly four days to reach the city of Belmaeron. The vast forest spread for miles and miles, sometimes making their progress slow. Each night, Whiskey helped Rain a little more with her magic, but she could tell he was holding back. He didn’t teach her anything new. She expected that there were more levels to the magic, but Whiskey didn’t tell her about them.
The third night after her dream about the door, she had just finished creating the logs for a fire and had started practicing creating a spark. After a few minutes of concentrating with her hands held over the logs, she felt heat and saw the fire had started.
“Very good!” Whiskey said.
She let the magic drain from her hands. Hoping he’d be in a talkative mood, she asked, “Why don’t you teach me more new things? Not just new things to materialize or different ways to use magical strength. You talked about ‘shades’ of magic before. There’s red and orange. Does that mean there are yellow and green, other colors?”
“Yes.” He paused, seeming to consider how to answer.
“Please, teach me? I have a right to know.”
“Whatever I teach you is reachable by Myrna, the next time they try to take over your mind.”
“And your mind is more protected? I’m the one with the aegis.”
He sighed. “The aegis won’t protect you from it, but you’re right, it’s better for you to know a little more.” He took a stray stick from beside him and started drawing a design in the dirt. It was a circle surrounded by six other circles, the six having lines connecting them to the middle circle, like a web. “This is the symbol of innate magic. Each circle has a different color, frequency, shade, whatever you want to call it. Red, orange, yellow, green, blue, purple. The center is white, symbolizing all colors. It’s an energy you can call on as well, but only once you’ve mastered the others. It’s difficult to master them all. It takes a lot of time. Many moon elves choose to specialize in certain colors, and stick to them.”
“Red for strength, orange for creation,” Rain said. “What do the others do?”
“That’s enough to have an overview of the magic. The rest I’ll save for another time.”
Rain smiled and sighed, knowing she wouldn’t get any more out of him tonight. “Alright, Whiskey. But you know I’ll find out eventually.”
Just then, Shea came back from taking care of the horses, a job he started to take on as his own. He knew how important it was to Rain to learn about her magic, and was happy to let them be. Rain wondered though, that if part of him feared her magic.
“How goes the lesson?”
“Finished,” Rain said. Whiskey was smoothing over the dirt he had drawn on, covering up the design.
“If you don’t mind me asking, Whiskey” Shea said, “and don’t take this the wrong way, but who are you, really? You can use magic and know a lot about it, yet you’re human. Or you seem that way, anyway. But you speak as if you were around during the Great Darkness, so you have to be at least a hundred years old.” He sounded like a scholar in search of knowledge rather than someone prying into business that wasn’t theirs. “And you seem to know much more than the Knights about supernatural things.”
“Don’t be fooled, I’m sure some of the Knights know more than they let on. Your superiors probably know more than you can imagine. I suppose, Rain, you also deserve to know who I am. I’ve kept enough from you already.” He was quiet for a minute, the fire sparking as it caught on another log. “I was one of a group of humans, and we called ourselves the Circle of Wizards. We started out as scholars who wanted to study elemental magic more in-depth, but north of the Fangs, where much more was known about it. We went to the elves to learn from them directly. The use of it changed us, giving us longer lives, for example. I was on the Council, as I said before, along with one other of my kind. We were our representatives, and the most knowledgeable of our people. I was chosen as the best one to take care of Rain and had to leave my people behind. I haven’t had contact with them for twenty years. I was told to name you myself and raise you in a place no one knew about. We wanted as few people as possible to know of your existence, to keep you alive.”
“To keep me away from Myrna? What exactly would she want from me?” Rain asked.
“I don’t exactly know. She could want to harness your power somehow, or just want you dead.”
Rain’s mind was spinning, thinking of all the years she didn’t know who he was. She had never really thought to ask. “Whiskey is what I’ve called you since I was young, but it’s just a nickname, isn’t it.”
He chuckled. “It’s just my favorite drink. In the Circle, I was Wizard Deaglan.”
“Who’d have thought it? Whiskey as a wizard,” Rain said, smiling.
“I’m still your old favorite bartender,” he winked. “Don’t forget that.”