Dad squeezed my shoulder hard. I got the point.
“The loss of the human race would not collapse the balance, most certainly,” Makeda said softly. Her shrewd eyes hunted for any hint of a lie.
Eiraf spread her hands wide. “Most certainly not, but the end we see is the ending of everything, which is what the Order is sworn to. We cannot ascertain how this would happen, but it begins with the loss of Oliver Waxenby and ends with the destruction of reality. The rest is being blocked by a power we’ve never experienced before. This is why I am here to warn you.”
Yatu grunted like an angry walrus. “This could be a trap.”
“The worst harm comes from where you least expect it. Forget about your enemies and think what your friends will do.” Eiraf faded as she spoke. “May the balance preserve us all.”
“I hate all these cryptic clues and warnings. First Pimiko, now the snow-blind Sisterhood.” Yatu spat on the floor where Eiraf had stood.
Maya sighed, looking exhausted as she sat back in her seat. “And they are at odds with each other, though neither is known for being overly explicit in a path forward.”
“What is our next move?” Dad asked patiently. His hands were behind his back and clenched together. “We have been unable to locate Oliver through our means. It sounds like we share an interest in his continued safety. How accurate are Eiraf’s prophecies?”
Alyx shrugged. “After events have occurred, it is easy to find ways to make them appear true. Beforehand, there are so many words you might find meaning in. It does trouble me she can’t see the possible futures. The Sisterhood of Delphi is renowned for its power.”
“We will need time to regard her words,” Makeda said cautiously. She rose and straightened her robes. “We should return you to your home so we may deliberate on a plan. I would have a few words with Thomas before Alyx returns you.”
“Of course, Lady Makeda.” Dad bowed to her. Alyx floated down the stairs to talk with Dad as the purple mage led me to the side by a gigantic window set into the outer wall.
“Thomas, first I’d like to thank you for your assistance yesterday. Losing Charles would have been catastrophic. Magic has faded as technology has grown. It took us over forty years to find Alyx.”
I didn’t know what to say, so I settled on a quick, “You’re welcome, Lady Makeda.” Her smile was warm and motherly. After the day I’d had yesterday, being cared for made me realize how much I’d missed my mom and needed to see her.
“Know I would be your friend, and with the times to come, we will need all the friends we can find.” She glanced over to where Dad spoke with the other mages. “You need to be careful; things are not always as they seem. I know not what it is, but things feel wrong to the marrow of these old bones.”
“I understand and will try my best to be careful.” Once again, my mouth took off while my brain screamed on the roller coaster. “You mentioned you could re-grow Alyx’s legs. Were you serious?”
She gave me a sly look. “Good to see you pay attention. Yes, I was. The magical arts are powerful, but the subject has to have the desire. Magic doesn’t cure anything, just enhances the body’s abilities. Alyx is healthy and, if he wanted it, the magic would return his missing legs. It would be painful, but he’s strong enough to endure it. Why do you ask?”
My brain screamed for me to shut up, but my mouth had momentum. “Can you heal anything?”
She shook her head, the beads she wore tinkling musically as if accompanying her. “No. Sometimes the person is too far gone or doesn’t desire to be healed. Some feel they deserve what happened to them and fight the process. Magic isn’t a cure-all; there are many facets to what we do.”
And here it was, the gold medal-winning question. “Could you heal someone who’s died?” My voice barely broke a whisper. I felt the heat rise to my face. I knew I shouldn’t have asked. Alyx had said no, but he wasn’t a healer. I waited for a harsh rebuke or a stinging response. I couldn’t let any stone go unturned; if there were a chance to bring Wendi back, I had to take it. I glanced up at Makeda’s face, expecting anger, and received a surprise instead. Tears flowed down her face. She pulled me into a hug as the tears sprang from my eyes. I had thought I couldn’t cry anymore. Obviously, I was wrong.
“My poor boy,” she whispered while she held me as I cried. “Loss comes to all of us, but your loss was unusually cruel. I am sorry, but those arts are beyond all.”
I nodded dumbly, unable to speak. After a few minutes, my tears subsided, and she let me go. “I’m sorry, Lady Makeda. I shouldn’t have asked. I loved her so much, and I miss her until I feel like I’d rather die than go on.”
“I’ve lost loved ones; I know how raw those feelings are. Would you allow me to show you something? It won’t make your pain easier to bear, but it will help you understand why I say no.”
“I’d be honored.” My brain had resumed control, late to the party as always. She muttered under her breath and flicked her wrist, and a door-sized portal opened. We stepped through. The portal winked out behind us.
“I’ve no talent for those damn things. Alyx can summon them in his sleep and hold them open for hours.” She oriented herself then set off down a set of stairs. “I never put them in the right place.”
The stairs ended at an ornate metal door covered in runes and a design made out of metal studs. Marcel would have loved the steampunk of the piece. I doubted Abby, or Titan for that matter, could penetrate the door. At a touch, the runes glowed, and the door disappeared. We entered a long hallway. I looked back and saw the door as solid as ever, back in place.
The hallway had a hint of decay in the air. Warmth flowed at us from all directions, inducing sweat across my brow that dripped as we walked the hundred or so feet. We walked to another door, identical to the first. It swung open as we reached it, booming shut after we passed through. A gray-skinned man lay on the floor, enclosed in a shimmering field of energy. A small bed and a toilet were the only things in the room. The smell of decay assaulted my nose, almost making me gag. “What is this place?”
Makeda glanced at me before beginning. “Thomas, magic is a funny thing. Many more people have a latent talent for it than ever will use it. Sometimes a person will use it in an extreme circumstance, find an explanation that fits, and never use it again. It is the same as the Gifted after a fashion.”
I watched the man in the cube. He writhed on the floor, screamed incoherently, and then fell silent again. White bandages wrapped his hands, which ineffectively ran up and down his face. He arched his back, howling like a wolf. I decided he must be ill. “I’m not sure how people get their Gifts since we are all collared before we develop them.”
She held herself straight as an arrow, face unreadable. “I’ve spoken to your father, and the two processes are similar. We find most of our apprentices after a traumatic event when they need their powers. Many don’t survive their initiation into the magical arts.” She paused. I didn’t want to interrupt her with more stupid questions. “I survived mine, but for centuries I wished I hadn’t. For some things, the price is so great you wouldn’t want your worst enemy to experience it.”
I knew exactly what she spoke of; the words crashed in on me, threatening to sweep me away under waves of depression. Memories of Wendi filled my mind: the way her hair shone in the sunlight, the smell of lavender, the warmth of her kiss, the echoing of laughter. Gone. Gone except for my memories of her. The pain burned hotter than any fire ever could. I’d cried for her and avenged her death, but they were the barest of payments for what she had given to me.
Makeda’s hand settled on my shoulder, a life preserver in the sea of misery I drowned in. “I do not tell you these things to cause you pain, but I know they do. Pain brings knowledge, knowledge brings understanding, understanding brings peace.”
I had learned a lot, but none of it had made things any better. In my opinion, pain brought more pain and nothing else. I focused myself so I could listen, knowing what she told me was
important.
“You are young, so my words seem like platitudes, for how could an old woman know how it feels?”
I started to deny it, but she laughed warmly. “I see I have you back.” The smile faded, the mask slid back into place. “I was no older than you when I bore my husband a strong son. He grew and surpassed the older boys as a warrior. The gods had blessed him, and he returned with captives to be sacrificed, to honor the gods. I know now how untrue that was.”
Human sacrifice? She looked in her late forties, but there hadn’t been human sacrifices in forever. I saw an image of Makeda, young and strong, watching her son grow. A fierce and protective mother. I wondered if she showed me the image or if it was my imagination.
“Asad, a tribal elder, grew jealous as my son bested his son over and over again. One moonless night while we were away from the tribe, Asad struck, killing my husband and son. He cut me open and left me for dead, laughing as he went.”
The image in my head shifted to the dead bodies around a small fire on a windswept night. Grunts of the predators sounded nearby in the night. Blood covered Makeda, but she pulled herself over to where her son lay, his eyes open to the stars above.
“I prayed to my ancestors to allow me to strike Asad, to hurt him as he’d hurt me. I mourned my husband, but I called to the gods to bring my son back to avenge our deaths. I felt a sensation I believed were my ancestor’s hands pulling me to the afterlife. I fought, I screamed to the skies, invoking Ogbunabali’s name, offering my life for his.”
I could see the scene as she spoke, entranced in the rhythm of her words and the images as they floated through my mind. The body in front of Makeda twitched. Unnoticed, she continued screaming, even as the blood dripped from the cuts Asad’s knife had left. The blood stopped flowing, the skin knitting back together. As she continued her pleas to her god, her son flopped over, then struggled to his feet. Her screams of pleading turned to shouts of joy until her son rose to his full height in front of her. Shrieks of agony followed as she saw his face in the flickering light of the fire. His lifeless eyes had no irises, just a flat white of his eyeball. Drool ran from his gaping mouth.
“I’d been given my miracle.” The last word heaped with scorn. “My beautiful son had become a monster. I tried to restrain him, but he knocked me down and walked off into the night. He killed the entire tribe that night. In the morning, the Council came and stopped him before he could harm anyone else. They explained I had power and could use it for good. I went with them and became an apprentice.”
“The council killed your son then?” I blurted out, mentally slapping myself for having a big mouth. “I’m sorry, that was rude of me.”
“No, Thomas. This is why I brought you here.” She raised her hand, pointing at the man who thrashed on the floor, screaming in agony. “That is my son. He is an example as to why we never break the law of crossing the barrier.”
My head swam in disbelief. The words slammed into me like a runaway tractor-trailer carrying tons of cargo.
I did the only thing a reasonable person could do in this situation. I threw up.
20
Makeda offered me a cloth to clean up after the unexpected expulsion of my stomach’s contents. I mumbled an apology, my cheeks flaming red with embarrassment. I flicked my eyes over where I’d left a mess, but the floor, wall, even my clothes were clean. A faint whiff of ozone reached my nose, but not the acidic smell of vomit. I wiped my face thoroughly before turning back to the purple mage.
“Nothing to be sorry for. I took care of the mess and, frankly, even had I not, the smell couldn’t get worse in here.”
I glanced back at her son, who rolled into a ball, whimpering like an injured dog. His skin lacked any hint of color, as did his hair. It wasn’t white like an albino, but gray like he’d been pulled out of a monochrome picture. The only color on him was his shredded clothes. “What is his name?” I asked softly. He’d been a person before this, and it seemed disrespectful to refer to him as an It.
“I called him Femi, short for Olufemi. It means God loves me, and I realize how ironic it is, because my magic caused this, not the touch of God.”
I stood watching him as the silence stretched on. “Hello, Femi,” I whispered, realizing just how much Makeda understood how I felt. She’d trade anything for him to be alive. He had come back, but not in the way intended. “Why is he here?”
“We tried everything we could to heal him, but there’s nothing to heal. He’s not in there; Pimiko delved his mind, and Femi is gone.” She stared off into the distance as she spoke, seeing things beyond my knowing. “I’ve kept him here as a reminder of what uncontrolled power can do. The field is tied to my heartbeat. When I die, he will disintegrate.”
I watched as he flailed on the floor, banging his head repeatedly. It seemed cruel to endure watching your child like this. How could you ever move on? “Wouldn’t it be easier to let him go?”
“It would. Do you understand why I must refuse your request?” I could feel her eyes boring into the side of my head as she waited for the answer she knew could be the only answer.
“I do.”
She put her hand on my arm, gently squeezing it. I looked, seeing her in a much different light. “You must listen to me well and good, Thomas. Your loss is a weakness that can be exploited. The Order will promise anything to sway you to their side. Your love brought back whole. Your friends reunited. They are lies. They use black magic to deceive before they destroy everything you love. It is their way. You must be strong if they whisper in your ear.”
I understood to my core. She had said understanding would lead to peace, and I realized what she meant. I had tried everything possible to bring Wendi back and came up with nothing. “Thank you, Makeda. I’ll never get over losing her, but I know she can’t come back. Can I ask one more question?”
“Of course,” she said with a chuckle. “At your age, the questions are a flood over fertile soil, germinating into the ideas that will grow into the man you become.”
I smiled at her. “Do you believe in the afterlife? That you’ll be reunited with your family one day?”
“Technically, two questions.” The smile returned to her face like a sunrise after a terrible storm. “I’ve seen things nothing could explain. I have bent reality with the power of the cosmos, and yet, I have the knowledge of a babe fresh from her mother in comparison to what is out there. I do believe I will see them again, or I will pay for what I did. Either way, I believe there is more than what we can see. Do you?”
I thought of Wendi and then of all the people who had died at my hand or because of me. I shuddered inwardly. “I do, but it might be better for me if there wasn’t.” If there was a God, how could I not be called to answer for all the lives I had destroyed.
“I understand your meaning. I have something for you, and then we should return before your father worries I’ve stolen you to be my new apprentice.” She reached into a pocket I hadn’t seen, and pulled out a small, deep purple, glass bottle. The glass felt like ice, cold and smooth, but not unpleasant. I peered into it, seeing a swirling mist within. “If you ever have extreme need for me, a life or death situation, break the bottle, and I will come.”
I wrapped the bottle in the cloth Makeda had given me and placed it in my pocket. “I will be careful with it. Thank you.”
She muttered a soft word and flicked her wrist, forming a portal. “Let us return.”
Dad and I said our goodbyes, and Alyx returned us to Castle. It took a long time to get Mom to let go of me and assure her I was fine. I sat and ate while she peppered me with questions. She walked me to my room, holding on to my arm like I might vanish if she let go. After a few more hugs and goodnight kisses I had to bend down for her to plant on my forehead, she went to check on Dad.
I carefully got the bottle out of my pocket and found a small box to store it in. I wrapped it in a couple of shirts and hid it away in my backpack. I stripped off my dirty clothes and showered like I’
d never seen soap and hot water before. Any longer and I’d have sprouted roots. I got ready for bed and climbed in.
Thoughts ran around in my head as I tried to process everything I had seen and learned today. Images of Wendi mingled with those of Femi, which didn’t help me drift off to sleep. I’m not sure how long I laid there before I heard a knock at my door. I reached over and switched on the lamp next to my bed. “Come in.”
The door opened to reveal a distraught Abby. She shoved the door closed as she ran over and tackled me. I couldn’t get my arms up to return the hug. She held me at arm’s length, examining me. “Are you okay?”
I laughed. “Other than being crushed, I’m fine.” I would have made a joke, but her fist rapped me across the jaw. “Ow! What was that for?”
She stood and glared at me. Her index finger shot up. “One, you left without me. Two, I find out not only did you leave without me, but you almost got killed by some magical monster or dogs or something.” Fingers kept flipping up as she counted off the ways I’d let her down. “Three, you get to go to some magical palace in the sky, and I’m here waiting and worrying you won’t come back like…” She stopped, suddenly aware of what she almost said.
“Like Wendi. I get it.” I rubbed my jaw; it hurt, but she had pulled it. I’d been under the twin sledgehammers enough to know what kind of damage she could do when angry. “I should have come to get you.”
She flopped on the bed in front of me. “I promised her if anything happened, I’d watch your back. I can’t keep my promise if you take off without me. Got it?”
I held up my hand. “I swear on Marcel’s tablet I will never leave without taking you with me.” I could see the tension drain out of her. I keep forgetting everyone had lost Wendi, not just me. The new reality took its toll on all of us. I promised myself I’d do better in the future.
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