Category: fantasy

curse of the magi 29

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Meanwhile, Elia had slipped, unnoticed into the bathroom. Hovsep had left a white rag on the counter with a note on it. Take it with you. Elia wasted no time; she wet the rag, wrung it out and rejoined Randell and Jaumet.

They had pulled out of their hug and Jaumet was slumped against the wall behind the bed. Elia cocked her head at Jaumet.

“Doing okay?” He nodded distractedly. She made quick work of cleaning and healing where the pain spells had broken skin. She turned to Randell and gave him a questioning look. He nodded his permission and slipped his white blood and sweat-soaked shirt over his head. And Elia cleaned out the new wounds on his back, not mentioning the three
already scarred over. As she worked on Randell’s back, Jaumet turned his head.

“What’s next?” Elia didn’t look up as she answered.

“We find you a place to hide.” Randell turned his head as far as he could without shifting his back.

“Where?”

“In plain sight.”

“What?”

“I’m taking you back to the compound.” Randell and Jaumet made eye contact in one lightning movement. Randell shook his head and Jaumet nodded in agreement. Before Elia could make any move, Jaumet and Randell were at the door. They hit something before
they crossed the threshold, something that made them flinch back and turn to Elia.

Her green eyes were apologetic.

“You have to trust me,” she pleaded. “If you go out there, the sniffers will be on you before you know it. They’ll take you back, and maybe next time you won’t be so lucky.”

Jaumet looked to Randell, who hesitated. Elia saw the look and bit her lip. “Please, you have to trust me.” Jaumet pierced his friend with his eyes. Randell sighed.

“What do we have to do?”

curse of the magi 28

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When Jaumet heard those magical words, he struggled to raise his head and look at their savior, but, as always, Randell was too proud.

“We don’t need your help,” he snapped weakly. Elia sat down next to the captive.

“Listen, today, that was only the start. They will get those answers out of you or kill you in the process.” Randell shook his head.

“You’re…lying…” Elia shook her head back at him.

“I’m not. Hop wouldn’t have called me if he didn’t think you needed help.” Randell
creased his brow.

“H-Hop?”

“Hovsep, the guy who…interrogated you.” Elia answered lightly. Randell seemed to be thinking.

“We need help, Randell.” Jaumet managed, barely forcing the words out. “We need to get out of…of here.” His head fell back to the silver floor, and he squeezed his eyes shut as it stole the last of his energy. Randell’s eyes closed halfway.

“Fine. We…we need help.” Elia pressed her lips into a small, sad smile, and held out her hand. Randell pulled his knees to his chest and struggled to support his chest with his wrists. He made a grab for her hand, almost loosing his balance. Elia nodded reassuringly and closed her hand hard as soon Randell’s touched it.

He felt almost instantly better. Her strength spell coursed through his muscles all the way down to his bones. He tried to pull away as he stood up, but Elia shook her head and walked him to the door. Hovsep had left, so Elia sat Randell down on his bed.

She edged around the holding room back to Jaumet. Her hand was light on his
shoulder, but it gave him strength, just a little. He was able to curl tighter, but any
movement still hurt. He squeezed his eyes tighter and sobbed. Elia gripped onto his arm, trying to ease the strength spell into his body, but his body wouldn’t accept it. She slipped her free hand into his and clung as tightly as she could. Jaumet felt her efforts, but nothing
helped. He shook his head.

“I’m going to die.” He sobbed again and tears leaked onto the cold, hard floor.

“No, you’re not,” Elia’s assertion was flat and obvious. She bit her lip stubbornly, and slipped her arms under Jaumet. He opened his eyes as far as he could in surprise.

“What are you…?” Elia didn’t answer. She was focused on standing up with the boy in her arms. She was small, but she wasn’t weak, and Jaumet felt himself lifted off the ground. It felt better in the air, but the heavy air of the silver room still pressed his energy out of his body. His head fell back from where Elia’s arm supported his upper back. The girl
held him tighter and hurried to the door. Randell was too weak to get up, but he saw Jaumet and his eyes widened.

“J-Jaumet…” he whispered. Elia carried him as fast as she could to Hovsep’s bedroom and laid him down gently on the white, austere bed.

Jaumet struggled to find each breath and his eyes we closing fast. He was going.
Elia picked up his hand and held it between her palms, clasping her fingers around it.

“Stay with me,” she whispered. “Keep talking.” Jaumet swallowed and sobbed again.

“I don’t want to die.”

“You won’t. You won’t.” Elia whispered. “Keep talking. Don’t close your eyes.”

“I-I’ll miss the summers the most…We sat outside and lazed around, at-at l-least on
the weekends…I liked the watermelon…not…not cause it t-tastes good, b-but
because…because we spat the seeds out.”
Randell’s eyes widened. All these memories, this we Jaumet spoke of, that was just them. Just Randell and Jaumet. Before all the craziness, before everything…happened. Jaumet talked, Elia fed as much energy as she could into his weak body, but it wasn’t fast enough. He was slipping away. Randell bit his trembling lip. Jaumet was his only friend, and he couldn’t let him die. He needed to help.

Hesitating, but only for a second, Randell slipped his own hand into Jaumet’s and replicated what Elia was doing.

Jaumet’s eyes opened further.

“R-randell?” Randell nodded.

“Of course. Hold on, buddy, well get through this. God knows what else we’ve gone through.” Jaumet nodded weakly.

“Do you remember…that-that one summer…we spit the seeds at all the p-people that passed?” Randell laughed

“Their faces were priceless.” Jaumet laughed, his croaking voiced gaining strength.

“And then…then the overseer told us to stop, b-but we just…we just spat seeds at h-him too.” He laughed again, and Randell joined in. The strength spell was slowly pulling itself into Jaumet’s muscles and bones.

He blinked his eyes rapidly, and raised his head. Elia smiled and helped him sit up.

Randell dropped his hand and went in for the hug.

“Thank God,” he whispered, almost sobbing. “I thought you would leave me.” Jaumet coughed and laid his head on his friend’s shoulder.

Weakly. “A Pi never gives up.”

the philosopher’s agenda 3

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“I just can’t pretend anymore,” he cried, turning back to confront her with the lines of anguish on his brow. She looked at him and stepped slowly out onto the deck; her face as usual held no clue to the inner tumult of emotion ardently felt.

“Maybe we don’t have to pretend.”

Alfie held his breath, bated, in his throat, afraid a stray exhale would blow away the possibility it had suddenly occurred to him to hope for. His hand drifted outward in tenuous question. But it remained as far away from her waist as it was from his own. He knew with a stinging realization that if her words did not mean what he hoped, he would cry, and he would cry in front of her.

With stiff face, Rosemary answered the delicate question, catching his wrist and pulling it slowly to her waist. So complete was his disbelief that he required similar encouragement to rest his other hand opposite the first.

Slowly and ritualistically, Aflie bent his head and kissed on the forehead a girl he had admired for months, if not years.

In slow and trembling voice he asked, “How was that?” Rosemary could not keep a smile from shifting visibly under the carefully kept mask of her face.

“Better than Alchemy.” And with similar ritual, the alchemist kissed Alfie gently on the corner of his jaw. He shivered unexpectedly, the combination of excitement and disbelief traveling violently through him.

Rosemary leaned closer and her whisper was softer. “How was that?” Alfie closed his eyes, pressing his chin into the hand she had rested on his neck.

“Better than sex.”

quarantine 0

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Part 1 – Breaking the Dragon from Her Cave

The Fox Escapes

The air was hard. Neal Grover breathed in steel air conditioning and let his
heart run under his steel-tipped jaw. First day. He was stationed at the quarantine island.

He had heard stories about the terrible disease that raged there, so many different stories that he had sometimes doubted that the disease could be real. But that was ridiculous. Why have a quarantine island and no disease? He could never answer why such an island would need guards in the first place. But it wasn’t his job to ask questions, or to answer them.

His cold walk brought him finally to the overseer’s office. The overseer was a man in his late thirties that could only be described as gruff. He seemed disgruntled even before he caught sight of Neal. He didn’t look any happier to see a new guard. Neal took a deep breath. Steel, he reminded his jaw. Steel, he reminded his heart.

“Name?” the overseer snapped.

“Neal Grover, sir.” The overseer rolled his eyes.

“Sir…yes you are new. They never bother with that courtesy anymore.” He sighed wearily. “Past experience, Grover?

“None, sir.”

“Good, fresh out of the academy. They are getting thin. The guards I get are greener and greener each year.” Neal’s eyes darted around the room. He wasn’t sure if he was expected to answer or if that would make this already disgruntled man even more disgruntled. The overseer shook his head. “No matter, we’ll train them, always have, always
will. Mycha!” he called. A guard sauntered into his office in answer

“That’s alright, Mycha, don’t hurry it would make my day too easy.” Mycha only grinned in answer. She crossed
her arms.

“What do you want, Boss?” she asked. The overseer pointed at Neal.

“This is Grover, Neal Grover. He’s fresh and untrained. Take him for a tour and show him the ropes.” Mycha grinned in answer.

“Easy enough. Where’s he stationed?” The overseer sighed and looked at his
scribbled notes.

“I hate to do this, but we’re short staffed in the Dangerous Animal sector. He’ll go
there.” Neal blinked rapidly. Dangerous animals? This was a Quarantine island, not a menagerie. Mycha shrugged.

“Your job, not mine, Boss.” She turned back to Neal. “Come on, Grover, you’ve got a lot of touring to do.” She left the room quicker than she had sauntered in, leaving Neal to scramble to catch up. His jaw loosened as urgency overtook his first-day nerves.

“Wait! Hold on.” Mycha turned back to him. “What does he mean, dangerous
animals? I thought this was a quarantine island.”

“Okay, Grover, I’ll cut you a break today, since you’re greener than grass on the
other side of the fence. Lesson one, newbie, this is not a quarantine island.”

“Then what is it?”

“It’s a place we hold a very special type of person.” They were walking through a
different hallway with hard air and grey walls.

“What kind of person is that?” They reached an iron door, locked from the outside.

“It’s where we keep shapeshifters,” she said and swung the door open.

curse of the magi 27

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Hovsep was pacing his room along the same pattern he always paced it. Back corner, front corner, side middle, back corner. A perfect triangle. There was no thread left on the carpet there.

He turned around as the door creaked open.

“Elia.” He smiled with half of his mouth. “You’re here.”

“It’s good to see you too.” She gave him a half smile back. “Where are they? Hovsep pointed to the door behind her.

“Holding cells.” Elia nodded and followed him into an all-silver holding room. She
shifted uncomfortably, she could already feel the deadly metal sapping her energy, but she had been trained for this. A barrier spell insulated her magic, but she would have to make contact with the guard to put her under a sleeping spell.

The guard jumped to her feet.

“What is your business here?” she demanded. Hovsep shook his head.

“You don’t recognize us? Seriously?” The guard raised her eyebrow.

“No…”

“Well we have explicit orders to talk to the two in cell 3.” The guard shook her head.

“I’m going to have to confirm with HQ.” Elia shook her head.

“No need, I have written permission. One sec it’s right-“ Hovsep stuck his foot out
and Elia tripped onto the guard. As soon as she made contact, she pushed a sleeping spell onto the surprised woman who slumped gently to the ground.

He made eye contact will her, nodded, and he spoke without words. You’ve got this. Elia nodded back and leaned over the guard. As she turned her back, Hovsep slipped out and the door clicked shut. Elia unthreaded the key marked with a three from the leather key ring. She quickly unlocked the door, her heart racing.

There were two people in the cell , but hardly any movement. When the door swung in, the brown haired one raised his dark blue eyes, but the hazel-eyed ginger only curled tighter into a fetal position.

“Who are you?’ the brown haired boy croaked.

“I’m Elia, and I’m here to help.”

curse of the magi 26

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Elia edged up to the palace gates at 2315.

The palace guard gave her a suspicious glare. She glared back.

“I’m here to visit Hovsep.” The palace guard laughed.

“Very funny, now get out.”

“I’m being serious, call him if you want.” The guard raised his eyebrow as he picked up the intercom phone.

“Hello. Visitor for Hovsep.” His voice crackled over the intercom.

“Yup, send her in.” The guard slammed down the phone and grudgingly hit the
button that opened up the gate. Elia raised her eyebrows at him and went through.

pentacle 8

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PART 1 – THREE OF SWORDS (cont.)

Adrian, who at this point in time was called Alice, was glued to the kitchen chair. Not literally glued, but figuratively, glued by obligation. Held down by the idea that if they got up, they would have failed. Which would have been the worst thing in the world. Janet placed a china plate on the table in front of Alice. Alice stared at it reproachfully, sure that the pretty pink roses were mocking them. All the roses had to do were be pretty, but Alice was obligated to stay here, and do what was required of them.

“Try it again,” ordered Janet, not unkindly. Alice stared at the plate until one plate turned into two. They were developing massive headache, and it seemed that their forehead as well would split into two. But as hard as they tried and hoped and desperately pushed with their mind, the plate would not move.

“Mom,” Alice pleaded. “I can’t do it. My head hurts.”

“Of course you can do it, sweetie,” Janet said, again, not unkindly. Alice started to cry.

“I can’t, mom, I can’t,” they said.

“Alice,” Janet said sharply. Alice flinched at the sound of their name. “You will do it. So keep trying.”

“No!” screamed Alice through sobs. At this, the plate shot through the air and shattered against the wall, just barely missing Janet’s head. A single shard fell away and sliced its way down the side of her face. Her eyes turned mean.

“Alice,” she said again, quietly, but this time, quite unkindly. Fear shot its way down Alice’s spine. They knew they were in trouble.

pentacle 7

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PART 1 – THREE OF SWORDS (cont.)

Adrian and Aiden had retrieved the box. It was smaller than expected and cardboard with “From Bill and Janet” written in thick sharpie on the top. The scrawling script was clearly Bahir’s. Adrian, once again, had gone numb and was staring that the box, but not really at it all. Aiden put his hand on his friend’s shoulder.

“I’ll get a box cutter,” he said. Adrian had not moved by the time he had returned. “It won’t open itself” he said, handing the box cutter over. Adrian nodded silently and sliced the tape deftly. The flaps fell open. The contents were bundled in bubble wrap. Adrian knelt down and carefully unwrapped the first parcel. As Aiden leaned over their shoulder, he could see that the other parcels were exactly the same, all stack on top of each other. It seemed that the box was filled with delicately painted china plates.

The plate Adrain was holding made no sound as it fell and rejoined the others. The plate was painted with tiny pink roses around the rim. Their breath turned shallow and quick as they recognized the pattern, and relived the memory they recognized it from.

pentacle 6

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PART 1 – THREE OF SWORDS (cont.)

Adrian was sitting in the middle of Bahir’s bed. They hadn’t moved in nearly five minutes. Aiden was nonchalantly skimming the belongings strewn across the dead man’s desk. A pen was thrown across a half-finished notebook page. An empty coffee mug sat to the left. As if someone was about to pick up the pen and finish their thought. As if someone would come through the door any minute to clear away the empty mug. Aiden finally broke the silence.

“Ok something’s up, spill it,” he said. He held up his hand. “No, I know. There’s a lot that’s ‘up.’ There’s something else.” Adrian stared into space for what felt to Aiden like forever. But in what was actually only 30 seconds, they finally responded.

“I think he really did shoot himself. That seems to be true,” they paused again. Then continued. “On the left side of his head – I mean, there was makeup on it, but you could stills sort of see that -“

Aiden grimaced. “Okay, stop, stop, I get it”

“Oh,” Adrian continued, “well that part seems true, anyways, but Aiden,” for the first time since they had entered the room, they made eye contact, “there were bruises, on his wrist.” Aiden’s eyes went wide.

“Well how could you – I mean don’t they…” he gestured broadly “cover that up or something?” Adrian shrugged.

“Maybe not, if it’s supposed to be covered by the suit.”

“He’s wearing a suit?” Aiden snorted. “Boy, he would hate that.” Adrian let out one short, soft laugh, then another.

“It’s not like the undertaker would let me put him in a Hawaiian shirt,” they managed between laughs. Aiden snorted again. Adrian doubled over. And they each forgot, momentarily, the reason they were in this room alone in the first place. They forgot momentarily that the man they were laughing over was gone.

In the kitchen Joyce looked up from her late friend’s will and raised a single eyebrow at the sound of two friends laughing hysterically in the room of a dead man. She lined up the edges of the pages, slipped them into an envelope, and quietly absconded. Her work did not end here.

“Okay, okay,” Adrian said breathlessly, wiping away tears. “Let’s do what we came here to do.” They looked around, actually taking in the room for the first time. They pointed to the desk. “What’s in that notebook?”

Aiden moved over to take a closer look.

“Oh,” he said, “it’s to you. It starts ‘Yo Adrian!’ “

“It does not,” Adrian laughed. They stood up to [look over Aiden’s shoulder]. “Oh” their voice softened “it does.” [backstory about name goes here??]

Yo Adrian, the letter read, I thought you and Aiden would appreciate. Aiden and Adrian grinned at each other. The contents of this notebook will shock you. They will challenge your reality and introduce you to a world I worked hard to protect you from. I couldn’t protect you any longer, and I’m sorry for that. I ask that you take this information one page at a time. Each will take time to process.

Aiden, I know you are reading this too. The friends exchanged a sheepish grin. You and I both know Adrian. They are proud, stubborn, and fiercely independent. Adrian blushed. But this path is yours too, you will understand that soon. My task for you is to make sure Adrian doesn’t walk this path alone. Be as annoying as compassionate, and as persistent as I know you can be.

Aiden screwed up his face.

“He has to have to last word, doesn’t he,” Aiden complained. “Can’t even give me a break when he’s dead.” Adrian laughed. They both fell silent and tried not to look at the notebook. They failed. Adrian nervously adjusted their hat.

“Here goes nothing,” they said and flipped the page.

It won’t surprise you, Adrian, Bahir wrote, If I say that your adoptive parents did not have your best interest at heart. But it may surprise you to hear why that is. And why they adopted you in the first place. You see, they were interested mainly in your abilities. The reason is part of a much larger picture that will unfold as you continue to read my extensive notes. They died under suspicious circumstances only two years after you were removed from their care.

An article was cut and pasted onto the page. The headline read “Carmel couple found dead in their home” the picture was of the home Adrian had lived in until the age of seven. Seeing it again, even in black and white newsprint, raised the hair on the back of their neck.

What they left to you in their will is in a label box in the basement. Their death was ruled a suicide. But you should know that a suicide is not always self-inflicted.

prelude

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The campfire flickered around the feet of the rebels, and shadows flashed over their faces.

Their leader propped his chin on his palm, his elbow on his spindly knee.

“For years, the Wizards have been oppressed,” he started, “forced to kiss the asses of the untalented, unimpressive humans that have controlled us. Well, no longer. We are the beginning of a new movement, a revolution. We have freed ourselves and we will free the rest of our kind. We will draw the blood of those who have harmed us until they draw their final breaths. We will not be defeated. We will only grow stronger.

Tonight is our first victory. Tonight we strike our first blow.” He slowly straightened his lanky body to its full
6’3” and cast a shadow even longer.

“Bring out the slave-driver.”

Two shadowed and hooded rebels wrestled the overseer to the corridor between their fire and their leader. The leader unsheathed his knife and gathered the man’s shirt in his hand. The cold blade kissed the overseer’s neck. His eyes froze and his body shuddered.

A grin snaked up the leader’s cheekbone.

“Any last words?” But the overseer’s tongue was frozen and his jaw locked.

The leader let out a laugh that chilled the air. “Don’t look so scared. We can’t kill you yet; you haven’t even been useful. Now,” the knife bit its single tooth into the man’s neck, “do you know a man named Phobos Dike?” The overseer let a hoarse croak escape his dry throat.

“Yes.”
“Do you know his students?”
“I don’t-“ the knife pressed harder and the overseer. “Fine. One is Hades Poseidon. The other one is just a legend.”

“You’re lying,” the leader growled, punctuating his sentence with another push of his knife.” The overseer grunted through the pain.

“I’m telling the truth. No one has ever found her, and no one ever will. Dike made her up to distract from the other one. He told me himself.” The leader let a sigh roll through his growl as he slid the knife away from his captive’s neck. The overseer held his hands over the blood and looked at the leader.

“Go.” The leader snapped. “You’ve been useful enough. Just don’t tell anyone about what happened here tonight. And if word gets out, I will skin you like a deer and use your pelt as my shower curtain. Understood? Now get!”

The rebel leader watched the overseer scuttle away, but, of course, he couldn’t bring word to his superiors. They would just have to find his body and do their own speculating.

The rebel leader hurled his bloody knife. It landed in the small of the man’s back
with a crunch and a thunk. The overseer slumped forward and the leader turned to his second in command.

“I don’t like taking chances.”