Bluestone

by C E Johnson

  “Do what you think is best,” Richard said to Dr. Dalton in a hushed voice. He brushed a fingertip along Emily’s brow. Her paper-thin skin was soft as silk. The stress of the past month was weighing heavily on him and he felt heartsick and powerless. A lump was forming in his throat, and he knew it would be hard to speak so he bit his lip and remained quiet. His daughter was so frail. He could have stayed next to Emily all night, but it was time to go. With his wife, he walked down a hospital hallway with a colorful mural of an otter on one wall. Hundreds of glossy pictures of children with Dax were pinned to the mural, and the photographs glinted in the artificial lights from above. They exited the hospital with the sliding glass doors whispering softly behind them.

  * * * Dr. Dalton * * *

  The majority of the nurses were at their evening meeting, and only a few other workers remained in the unit with Dr. Andrew Dalton after the Whaynes had left. The nursing staff had their own duties and they ignored the surgeon. Towering over Emily’s incubator, he studied the small baby. Now is the time, he thought to himself.

  There are risks involved, Dax whispered through their mind-link.

  Andrew nodded in acknowledgement. Murmuring an incantation, he let his magic flow into the baby, evaluating her like a medical scanner. He absently brushed several hairs behind Emily’s tiny ear while he worked. I can see the problem, I know what I need to do.

  Be careful. Dax peeked his head out of Andrew’s pocket.

  There’s no other choice. Andrew swayed ever so slightly as he strained to gather his full magical potential.

  Your aura is burning bright as a blue flame, Dax whispered. Andrew’s aura was his wizard fingerprint or mystical signature, invisible to non-magical creatures. Blue magus gave him an inner advantage with shielding spells, valuable in battles and war but not all that useful with sick babies. He chewed on the side of his mouth as a thin sheen of sweat formed on his brow. He wiped the moisture off with the back of his hand. I wish I were a green magician right now, he thought ruefully.

  You’re strong. You don’t need the benefit of a green aura, Dax encouraged him. I’m here to help you. I’ll boost your energy if you need it.

  Andrew knew Dax could only replenish small amounts of his energy, but he appreciated any help he could get. I must heal her whole body, he said with determination. He plunged into the next stage of the process. His throat felt dry and his mind was starting to feel thick and drowsy. As his inner magus began to deplete, the white walls felt like they were pressing in around him, and the air felt suddenly colder.

  Dax was wary. You’ve never attempted a spell of such magnitude on Earth. Be ready to back out and finish the work another day.

  Andrew felt Emily’s marrow accepting his initial offering and he let his stream of energy flow in a larger current, darting from his fingertips while he murmured, Medicor. A film of moisture was forming in a thicker layer on his forehead, and his brain was feeling blurred and clumsy.

  Listen to her heart rate, Dax whispered after a time. Emily’s heart rate monitor, which was usually galloping wildly, was settling down to a more normal-sounding rhythm. It’s working.

  Although he felt frail and weak, an excited chill went down Andrew’s back. He invested himself into his work, drawing what he could from Dax. He labored until his flesh felt like a weak shell and then at long last he stopped, staggering with the completion. He put out a hand to steady himself. Have I done it? He felt dizzy, his magus drained to a small flicker like a depleted battery.

  Spells on Earth suck our resources a tenfold compared to what that spell might have cost us on Acacia, Dax spoke ruefully. Dax studied Emily. Her heartrate was steady, her breathing even. Dax gave Andrew a proud little nod. The otter’s eyes flicked nervously toward the doorway. A nurse is approaching.

  Andrew turned in the direction suggested by his bondsmate and noticed the charge nurse looking at him anxiously right before the light dissolved into darkness. The nurse barely caught his head just above the hard tile floor.

  Dr. Dalton was kept in the hospital overnight for observation. The Whaynes came to his room to check on him the following day while he was eating his breakfast. “How are you feeling?” Richard asked with a worried frown.

  “Much better.” Andrew felt weak, but he would heal. “How is Emily?” he asked. He was nervous, and a sense of dread clawed at him, but he had to know if he had fully succeeded.

  You did all you could do. Dax was instantly in his mind, supporting him.

  “She’s really improved,” Richard answered with a wide grin. He clapped Andrew lightly on the shoulder. “It’s like a miracle.” There was relief and appreciation in his eyes. Andrew allowed himself his own hesitant smile.

  “What about you?” Jean sat on the edge of his bed.

  “I think I ran out of energy with the late nights of watching over her,” Andrew answered. He took a sip of orange juice. The liquid eased the discomfort from his dry lips and parched mouth, but it couldn’t relieve the throbbing headache from his magical drain.

  Richard gave Andrew a long, measured look. “I don’t understand what you’ve been doing lately, but I’m a believer. The nurses think she can survive off all her life support lines and tubes.”

  Andrew rubbed Dax’s soft fur. It worked. The joints in his fingers felt sore and stiff.

  Powerful spell. Dax’s words were filled with admiration.

  Andrew moved his fingers away from Dax to stroke the stubble forming on his chin. He didn’t need a magestone to make his next prophecy. “I predict she’ll leave our medical center very soon. I’m going to miss her.”

  Jean leaned forward and hugged Dr. Dalton fiercely. “I know this is sudden, but will you be Emily’s godfather?”

  Richard echoed her thoughts without hesitation, “We want to keep you a part of her life. We don’t want to lose you.”

  Andrew studied the Whaynes’ expectant faces. “I’d be honored.”

  Perhaps everything’s going to work out after all, Dax whispered.

  CHAPTER 3

  Samil

  Samil staggered into the bathroom and looked in the mirror at his gaunt, haunted reflection. The dusky shadows under his eyes were growing progressively darker. He was undergoing an odd assortment of physical changes—hair loss, weight loss, and an intensification of the gruesome yellow tint to his teeth which no bleach could cure. His skin was even undergoing a metamorphosis, steadily stretching across his skull such that he could see the grooves of his underlying calvarium giving him an inhuman, skeletal appearance. He was beginning to look like the most grotesque of the wraiths he had ever seen. What will I eventually become? he wondered. Even my students on Bashan are starting to become repulsed by my appearance.

  Shaking his head in disgust, he shivered in the cool morning air. His chill had nothing to do with the cold on his muted senses and everything to do with dismay with what he was becoming. “Pathetic,” he whispered to himself as he set his mouth in a grim line. Curling his hands into fists, he slammed his knuckles into the mirror, feeling contentment as the glass shattered under his blows. Seven years bad luck, he laughed to himself at the absurdity of Earthly superstitions. In his sensory depleted state, only faint wisps of pain managed to progress from his bleeding hands to his brain.

  Samil knew the cause of his changing features—he was spending too much time talking to the restless spirits in Ater, and they were draining him. Unfortunately, his conversations were teaching him how to gain more power and he couldn’t stop, at least not just yet. The dark world was his addiction, and although he knew the physical toll was extraordinary, he longed for his drug.

  During his exploration of the spirit world, he had located an exceptional ally, the wraith-spirit of his grandfather, Drogor. He was once a powerful black magician who had aspirations of becoming the ruler over all of Acacia, but he had died during his attempt. Samil fully recognized the flaws the shadow-spirit still carried—arrogance, cruelty, and ambition—even to the afterlife, but famil
y was family and he was captivated by the secrets Drogor revealed to him. Once Drogor realized his grandson’s goals, he pounced on Samil’s similar desire to rule and conquer.

  Drogor had introduced him to another talented wraith-spirit with fascinating arcane knowledge, Loff Retz. Loff was once an indigo magician on Acacia, who had attained the status of a nexus magician. A nexus was able to help in the process of actually locating bondsmates for magicians. For each magician, there are only several animals with which they will ever have a chance to form a link, and the timing of the bond formation is critical. Loff had created spells which allowed him to delve into this sacred process and he was teaching Samil his trade in exchange for magus-feeds and for the possibility of Samil bringing him back to life as a half-dead when the timing was right.

  Samil ignored the pounding in his head and the blood dripping from his wounded hands as he walked into the main living area of his Austin safe-house. A massive window, essentially a gigantic sheet of glass, extended across his entire living room, which sat on a cliff-side overlooking Lake Travis. The view was breathtaking for Earthlings. Sailboats large and small were moving rapidly over the water, which was rough with small whitecaps dotting the deep blue surface. The wreaths of morning mist were slowly separating and rising in the morning breeze to reveal hills that stretched to the horizon. Samil abruptly turned away from the immense window as anger began to form in the pit of his stomach. Where were his healers? “Rejuvenators!” he roared. His breathing was beginning to sound like a wheezy machine in his ears. I hate my journeys to this land. “Rejuvenators!” he boomed again while he studied his crimson blood dripping to the white slate tile beneath him.

  “Sir are you ready for your morning treatment?” His head healer tip-toed meekly into the room and stood at attention. “Your hands, sir!” The magician dashed to Samil and stopped the flow of blood with his own robe. “I’ll repair them first.” Samil surveyed the man’s aura, deep greens, with tendrils suggesting compassion, mercy, and empathy. The green magician whispered his incantation and they both watched as the bleeding stopped, and the fascia and skin began to reapproximate and heal.

  Once healed, Samil snatched his hand away without thanking the man. “Get on with the recharging treatment. I can barely breathe on this blighted planet.” His wheeze was worsening, now occurring with both inspiration and expiration and he began to feel an inner panic. The room felt hot and his throat itched. Sometimes he feared his weakness might suffocate him.

  “Yes, sir.” His healer inclined his head. His team had arrived to assist him. Samil traveled to Earth with a squad of elite warriors handpicked for their physical strength to survive on Earth, but he also traveled with a host of healing magicians with green auras who were able to give his group enough inner magus to reconstitute. This group was known as the ‘Dark Rejuvenators’ and they were critical to offer some degree of physical sustenance.

  “Are you feeling better?” the head healer asked. Healing spells, even performed by the most powerful of his green magicians, were very feeble here, and a spell that could heal a massive wound on Acacia could only mend a cut on Earth. Even though, these elite rejuvenators were truly skilled.

  “Better,” Samil grunted. As the team worked, he could feel his inner battery being steadily recharged. His panic dissipated as the pipeline of power entered his body from the hands of the healers. Samil sucked enough energy to survive the day without too much discomfort and then drained even more.

  “You’re hurting us,” the healer groaned. Callously, Samil depleted the energy from his minions leaving only a minor residual magus-flame in their souls.

  “You’ve completed your job,” he roared. “Get out of here and get me Droth!”

  “Yes, Samil,” their leader choked. The healers helped each other stagger out of the room.

  A minute later, a tall older gentleman entered the room through the same doorway that the rejuvenators had just departed. He had a slight limp, but he still managed to walk with his back ramrod straight, speaking of his years in military service. “I saw your healers tottering and lurching in the hallways, so I knew you were here,” Droth taunted. There was a dangerous glint in his piercing blue eyes. The man was becoming unable or unwilling to hide his growing resentment and bitterness.

  “Don’t give me any more of your irritating mouth than I require.” Samil hated to be grouchy, but Droth consistently brought out the worst in him. I’ll ride his strengths as long as possible, and then we’ll see what happens, Samil thought. He had ordered one of his captains, Marcus Tate, to come to this meeting, but the warrior had been slightly delayed. Perhaps Marcus could replace Droth one day, he thought to himself.

  “Are you ready to see the plans?” Droth’s tone changed. His scorn evaporated, and he became more serious and purposeful. However, beneath it all, Samil could still detect a faint chill in his words. There was an underlying insolent element that suggested a lack of respect. Samil’s ill-temper remained.

  “Why else did I come back to this foul land?” Samil spit the words out with anger and frustration. He rubbed his hand over his balding pate, jealous of Droth’s full head of thick white hair.

  Droth led Samil into a computer room where monitors and hardware lined the walls. Droth went to a chair and tucked his clothing under his legs as he sat, rigid and orderly. He wore a black cloth tunic and a long wool cloak, preferring to dress like an Acacean when indoors. “Here’s my favorite set of blueprint ideas for your weapon,” Droth murmured while pushing the mouse over to Samil to let him control the images.

  “You know I hate computers.” Samil didn’t want to drive the electronics. He angrily pushed the mouse back to Droth and put a finger over a vessel that was pulsing dangerously in his neck. Was Droth baiting him? Pointing out his weaknesses? “Do you have my meeting set up with the Master of Gems and the Master Engineer from the University of Texas?” Samil asked irritably.

  “Your meetings with both gentlemen are set up for this afternoon,” Droth answered calmly while taking back the mouse. Droth set his strong square jaw determinedly and returned his attention to the screen, sorting through other potential designs. Samil studied Droth as he worked. Although he would never admit it to the man, he was doing a wonderful job. He was also a strong magician, but he wouldn’t ever attain Samil’s level even if he bonded to a multi-colored dragon. He wasn’t an arch-mage. Samil expended a low level of his own magus to pull up Droth’s aura for evaluation. It was as black as the darkest night, with filaments of honesty, loyalty and strength.

  “Are you ready to give me your dragon-oath yet?” Samil asked Droth. Samil desperately needed Droth’s help and he would do anything to keep him in line as he had to have a competent chief who would remain on Earth. Most Acaceans wanted to quickly return to Acacia, but Droth promised to remain on the job until he had been granted a bondsmate. However, Droth had his liabilities.

  Without even looking at Samil, Droth answered, “Not yet, my liege.” He repeatedly refused the ultimate allegiance of giving Samil his dragon-oath. Droth continued working, displaying a video which simulated the planned propulsion system.

  “Project Blackbarb has begun,” Samil whispered as he studied the intricate weapon on the screen. He was certain wraith Drogor would be proud of his accomplishments. “Acacia will never be the same again.”

  “Any word on my bondsmate?” Droth slightly lifted one of his thick white eyebrows at Samil. Samil knew he was trying to hide his burning desire from his voice, but it was plain as day. No matter how smart or powerful a magician was, they always craved a bondsmate just like they craved air, food and water. Droth was no different than the rest.

  “Not yet,” Samil tried to hide his contempt at Droth’s weakness. He was hoping to delay the final transaction for as long as he possibly could. “What about the girl, any word?” Samil asked as a sense of dread formed in his chest. He wasn’t sure why she had become so important to him.

  “I haven’t found a trace of her,” Droth
answered sullenly. He rotated his head back to the computer, but not before Samil saw his face grow hard. Droth rubbed his chin thoughtfully as he asked a question, “Are you certain about what you saw?”

  Samil’s head instantly began to throb even though he had just been recharged. “I’m positive.” Rising to his feet, he went to the window. He felt his face flush as a worry rose inside of him. “I didn’t fully realize the importance at the time, Droth, but she’s an elf and I want to find her.” The thought of the elves knowing about a portal chilled Samil’s heart.

  Droth stopped his work on the computer and gazed at Samil sharply, furrows growing on his brow. “I know this happened over thirteen years ago but tell me everything you remember. I need more clues if I’m going to find her. Give me the story one more time.”

  “Fine,” Samil spat out as his anger continued to rise in his chest. “After the story, I’m going back to Acacia.” Taking a deep breath, he began to detail the events in a harsh, dead tone. “It all began when I was riding my motorcycle in the hill country.” He could feel his face darkening as he was taken back to the moment years before.

  * * *

  Samil, decked in black leather, sunglasses, and a bandanna like an aged rock star, rode his impressive motorcycle through the Texas hill country enjoying the wind tearing into his face. I wish this beast could go faster, he thought. He so wanted to spark his numbed senses to stimulate something that would remind him of home. Everything on Earth was dampened and muted for Acaceans due to a difference in the degree of magic in the magus-sphere on the two planets.

  As he rounded a hairpin turn on his rocketing vehicle, he used his magic to steady his course. He had a black aura and he was an expert at using his powers. He blinked in surprise while glancing at a vague shadow moving in the oak trees lining the road. Could it be a vampire? he initially thought before laughing out loud at the absurd idea as the dusky shape turned out to be a white-tailed deer that swiftly disappeared without a trace.