Elijah's Quest (Finding Magic Book 4)

by Blair Drake

  I'd prefer to do this by speaking to you, Elijah. But since you refuse to answer your phone, I guess you leave me no choice. I wanted to let you know Amie and I are having a baby in six months. Amie was hoping....

  He barely saw the rest of the message. The world seemed to slow down around him, and then he tripped on something—a foot perhaps—and staggered sideways into a group of girls walking in the opposite direction.

  At an inch over six foot, he nearly wiped them out. Good thing coach had been working on his footwork. Elijah grabbed the dark blur in front of him, the phone sprawling on the floor and skating sideways. His fingers dug into the girl's arm, and then a sudden lick of premonition went down his spine as he slammed against her.

  He'd know that riotous tangle of brown curls anywhere, and the smell of that perfume. Big brown eyes blinked up at him, as if he'd knocked the breath out of her, though he was fairly certain he hadn't hit that hard.

  Zoe.

  "Watch where you're going, Elijah," her best friend, Jessica Hawkins, said. "Talk about desperate."

  A snicker sounded.

  "Elijah." He felt like someone behind him was saying his name. Maybe Stilts. "Elijah?"

  All he could see was Zoe.

  All he could hear was his father's voice. Amie and I are having a baby.

  Having a baby.

  Having a baby....

  He stared at Zoe. She stared back, a hint of red creeping into her cheeks. The urge to blurt out the bomb his father had just dropped on him was almost overwhelming. He'd talked to her about his parents—he didn't talk to anyone—but if there was anyone he felt safe confiding in, it would be... would have been her.

  Say something.

  For the second time in his life, words failed him.

  "Sorry," he muttered. "Didn't see you coming."

  "Here," Zoe said, stepping out of his grasp and fetching his phone. It was weird seeing her hair in a tumble of curls like this. Most of the time she straightened it, and she moaned about its natural state constantly, though if he were being honest, he preferred the curls. Their hands brushed as she held the phone out to him. "Are you okay?" Looking up from beneath her lashes, he caught a glimpse of the old Zoe. The one who'd looked at him as if he were her whole world.

  No. Not really. He was still numb.

  "I'm fine. Peachy. Thanks." Elijah scraped a hand over the back of his neck. "How was the LARPfest weekend?" Live Action Role-Playing wasn't his thing, but Zoe was into it big time.

  Zoe blinked, a new wariness creeping over her expression. "We got by."

  She didn't need to add "without you" but it hung in the air regardless.

  He winced. Why did you bring that up?

  "Guess I'd better be going." Somehow he salvaged a careless grin. "See you around, Zo-Zo."

  The second he turned around he cursed himself. Ugh. It was like his brain was slowly kicking back into gear.

  "Smooth Davies. Real smooth." Stilts winced. "You sure it was amicable? Pretty sure you just got body checked real hard, judging by the look on your face." He held up three fingers. "How many fingers?"

  Elijah snatched at them and jerked them down. "Alright, fine. She might have dumped me."

  He stole another glance behind him, but Zoe was walking away and didn't look back.

  Fine. He glanced at his phone. Seeing Zoe was only the icing on the cake. How was he going to tell his mom about the baby? She was like a walking zombie these days, trying to get back on her feet after the divorce and the loss of the house.

  What was his dad even thinking? Elijah was seventeen. Christ, he was closer in age to Amie than his dad was.

  He really needed to talk to someone about this, but the only person he might have been able to confide in was the one person who wanted nothing to do with him anymore.

  "Uh oh," Stilts muttered. "Grauster alert."

  The headmaster strode along the corridor. Headmaster Grotel Auster's coat flared out behind him. Too late, Elijah realized he still held the phone in his hand.

  Story of my life.

  The Grauster's eyes flicked toward it, then back up to his face, just as a peal of thunder vibrated the windows. "If you'll come with me, Mr. Davies."

  He exchanged a look with Jeremy. Great. What did the Grauster want now? "I was just putting it away, sir. I'm on my way to class."

  "Not anymore. Class can wait. Your presence is required in my office."

  Joy.

  Through the windows, the storm lashed out with another stabbing fork of lightning.

  Elijah slammed to a halt inside the headmaster's office. A heap of other students waited, and he managed to sidle in to a nice corner of the office. Another of the teachers, Headmistress Hettie Lalane moved among them, murmuring quietly. He liked the Headmistress. Wind slammed against the window casing. The storm was growing worse.

  He nudged Jasper Walker and stage whispered, "Any idea what's going on?"

  Jasper shook his head, but then Headmaster Auster walked in, and one did not interrupt the Grauster. Not when one was currently on the headmaster's shitlist.

  A lash of lightning highlighted the room, and then the world went dark as the electricity went out. They were all plunged into darkness, and several of the students squealed. Elijah rubbed his arms. The air felt heavy and static. Good thing Zoe wasn't here or it would do a number on her hair.

  "Quickly," Headmaster Auster snapped. "To the rooftops."

  What was going on?

  Maybe he was still thinking slowly, courtesy of his father's sudden news, but Elijah staggered after the others, uncharacteristically quiet.

  Roiling clouds brewed over the school when they reached the rooftop.

  Elijah turned, staring toward the coast. A heavy bank of fog moved toward them, rolling over the ground like as incoming wave. There was no way that was natural.

  Little hairs lifted all down his neck. What was going on? Headmistress Lalane moved among them, muttering under her breath, with her face pale.

  She rested a hand on his shoulder as if to calm him, but he was certain she was muttering something under her breath—an incantation perhaps—and a strange light began glowing out there in the mist as she moved on to the next student. He looked down as something heavy slipped into his blazer pocket, almost certain the headmistress had put something there, but she was moving on, and those glowing lights moved closer. He didn't have a chance to check it out.

  "I don't think we ought to be out here," he muttered, staggering in a gust of sudden wind.

  The storm howled down upon them.

  "Stand firm," someone called.

  He grabbed hold of one of the other student's hands. It felt like something was trying to push him off the rooftop. One by one the students were yanked into the air, twisting and turning as they vanished into wind funnels. Holy crap. Elijah turned to race for the stairs, but it felt like an enormous invisible giant's hand suddenly plucked him up and hurled him into the sky. He screamed as he spun into a vortex that suddenly opened up around him.

  He caught the flash of horror on Reese Calamita's face, and then the other boy was gone.

  Talk about a body check. He was slammed about, hammered by a wind so violent his hair whipped around his head, and his cheeks started flapping as he started falling. Stinging specks of sleet whipped past him, biting into his cheeks. The whine of air whipping past him turned so sharp his ears started to ache, and he couldn't catch a breath. He had to turn his face to the side to snatch a breath of oxygen, he was moving so fast.

  Darkness exploded around him. Lights whipped past like stars going at light-speed.

  And then it was too much for him.

  Darkness sucked him under, and the last thought he had was that he hadn't been able to say goodbye to Zoe. Or tell his mom about the new baby.

  Chapter 2

  Elijah slammed into something cold and hard.

  Air exploded from his lungs, leaving his lungs sucking in nothing. He was pretty sure the entire St. Margaret's defe
nsive line had just smashed into him. Either that or a freight train. Light burned his eyes, the world so bright after those long moments in the darkness that it felt like an ice pick was stabbing into his brain.

  His lungs suddenly opened up as though the vise restricting them had been removed, and Elijah rolled onto his side, gasping for air. Winded. Certainly wasn't the first time. Just needed... a moment. Snow crystals sprayed in the harsh breath of his exhale, and Elijah blinked, his fingers freezing as they curled in a pile of icy powder.

  Where was he?

  He coughed, and managed to lurch to his hands and knees. He'd landed in a snowdrift. The world was painted in shades of white and gray, a desolate icy landscape, where wind was the only thing to stir the silence. Enormous mountains reared around him, trees wearing the mantle of winter.

  Elijah appeared to be in some sort of valley between the yawning gulp of steep cliffs, somewhat protected from the wind, though completely exposed in other ways.

  One second he'd been standing on the roof of Gray Cliffs. The next he was....

  Somewhere far away.

  "Mr. Auster?" he called. If you're out there, I solemnly swear I shall never call you the Grauster again. "Miss Lalane?"

  Nothing.

  Maybe he was concussed from some sort of fall? Or maybe he was dreaming? His fingers were freezing, and he was starting to shiver, but he still pinched his forearm, just to make sure.

  Ouch. Not dreaming.

  "Rhys?" he yelled, turning around in circles. "Jasper?"

  He'd seen the others go flying off the roof, sucked into the same sort of vortex that had picked him up. Maybe they were here somewhere too? Who else had been there on the roof? He thought he remembered seeing a couple of the girls he knew, though he'd been distracted by the fallout from his father's text. "Melanie?"

  He yanked his cell phone out of his pocket. The screen was shattered, but he breathed a sigh of relief when it lit up at the touch of his thumb.

  Then his heart fell. No bars. No service.

  Where the hell was he? He'd joked once about a camping trip his parents had dragged him along on, to the middle of Nowhere, Alaska, but this place felt achingly lonely in a way that made his throat tight. Sliding the phone open, he flicked through it, holding it up as he walked to a higher vantage point. Still no bars.

  His thumb hovered over Zoe's number. There was no point even trying to call her, but he did so, holding the phone to his ear and listening to the silence as it failed to connect. It made him feel a little less alone though, knowing she was out there somewhere.

  But if he kept going, then he'd only deplete the battery, and he needed it for when he finally got service.

  The sky was grim and grey, and heavy with mist. Elijah could see little more than the stark line of mountains around him, wearing their snowy cloaks. His breath steamed in the crisp air as he slowly lowered the phone, and caught a flash of something moving out of the corner of his eye.

  Elijah spun around, and then froze, his gaze darting over the landscape. Nothing moved. Just a slow veil of snowflakes drifting through the air, like some sort of winter wonderland.

  But something had caught his attention, hadn't it?

  Elijah's pulse jacked into his throat as he realized he might not be alone. He took a step backwards, starting to shiver violently. The school blazer was thick enough to warm him at school, but the backside of his trousers were damp from his landing in the snow, and he was wet in other places too.

  And there was something out there watching him. He was sure of it.

  A few seconds ago he would have given anything not to be alone here, but now?

  The breath stalled in his throat. He didn't know whether to call out a "hello" or not. If there was someone out there, then they might be able to help him, but what if it were some sort of animal? He took a few more steps, his gaze raking the tree line. Something moved on the other side of him, and his head jerked in that direction.

  Two something's out there?

  A little prickle of trepidation crept down his spine. Nobody had called out to him. And he'd seen something move on both sides of him now, almost as if whatever it was out there was herding him.

  Toward what though?

  He'd watched enough David Attenborough to know he didn't think he wanted to find out. Right now he was the straggler of the herd, cut away from any sense of safety.

  Turning to run, he staggered through the snow, his school shoes completely unsuited for the terrain.

  "Halt!" barked a sharp voice behind him.

  Yeah, right. He shot a glance over his shoulder, and saw some kind of white, fur-covered beast racing down the slope toward him. Adrenaline kicked through his veins, leaving him short breathed and panting as he surged on. The world flashed past him, his hand locked around his phone as his thighs pumped.

  A snowdrift in front of him suddenly reared up, icy powder flinging everyone. A spear pointed directly at him as a second fur-covered beast erupted through the snow.

  "Shit." Elijah scrambled back, his ankle twisting on something beneath the snow. He went down in a drift, staring at the enormous, fur-covered beast glaring down at him with beady eyes. No. Not a beast. A huge, hairy man with a beard that looked like it belonged next to a tankard of honeyed mead.

  He stared.

  The man stared back.

  That was definitely a spear, though the point of it looked like it had been carved crudely out of black glass. Or maybe obsidian.

  What was going on here? For a second he had the thought that Zoe was playing a trick on him. She was obsessed with Live Action Role Playing, and had just spent the last weekend—presumably—on one of her LARP quest weekends. Had she coerced some of her new friends into paying him back for the not-so-kind comments he'd made about her gaming? She'd dumped him over those stupid words, so there was a possibility.

  Except for one small fact: Zoe had nothing to do with the scene on the roof, and the storm that had plucked him up and sent him spinning into this snowy plane.

  And Zoe wasn't mean. She didn't hold grudges, and she'd been hurt by what he'd said. While she was more than capable of handing him a set down, when she'd told him it was over, she'd simply slammed the door of her room in his face and stopped responding to his texts or private messages.

  'Maybe I don't want to talk to you ever again, so I can go hang out with my 'stupid make-believe friends'. Stop contacting me,' had been the last communication he'd received from her, and that had been over five days and three hours ago, but it wasn't like he was counting.

  "Who are you?" the stranger breathed, in a guttural accent so thick he could barely understand it.

  Another man waded through the snow behind him, clad in what looked like polar bear fur. He was several yards away, but Elijah's shoulder drooped. He'd tried to run and failed spectacularly. No point in attempting it a second time. At least not until he had a better layout of the land.

  "Elijah," he said. "Elijah Davies."

  "Elijor of House Davies?"

  "No. Eli-jah," he emphasized. "Of Vancouver, Washington."

  No sign of recognition flared in the man's coal-black eyes.

  He was starting to shake from the cold and the after effects of adrenaline, but he truly didn't know what to think. Because these guys looked like Lord of the Rings wannabes. And despite the spear, they wouldn't hurt him, would they? Maybe he was in the wilds of Canada or Alaska somehow? But there still had to be police here somewhere, didn't there?

  "Do you know where I am?" he asked, trying to stand again. He lifted his phone. "You can call my mom or my school if you want, and speak to them as soon as I get service—"

  The man with the spear whirled and brought the haft of his spear down upon Elijah's hand. Pain shocked through his arm, and for a second he couldn't breathe as the phone fell into the snow. "What are you doing?" he blurted, preparing to kneel and dig for it. "That cost me a fortune!"

  The point of the spear suddenly whirled and pressed right int
o his throat. Elijah swayed, his knees half-bent but his spine suddenly snapping straight.

  Police or not, this suddenly felt serious.

  "Don't move," said the stranger coldly. "We will have none of your magic here, Mage."

  Elijah blinked. Magic?

  "Is this some trick of Zoe's? If you're after a mage, that's the sort of thing she's interested in. I don't do LARP or quests or—"

  The spear dug a little deeper and he shut up abruptly.

  Okay. Point taken. Elijah held his hands up.

  "Yeorfac," the man behind him called, taking his time wading through deep snow toward them. "You cannot kill him until we take him to the princess. She will wish to delve him."

  "He's a mage," the man—presumably Yeorfac—bit out, his eyes narrow with bitter hate. "He's probably a Pasternackian spy."

  Yeorfac made a point of spitting in the snow at Elijah's feet.

  Gr-oss. "Not a spy," Elijah ground out carefully. "Not a mage. I don't know what you're talking about."

  "You appeared from the sky, from nowhere," Yeorfac snarled.

  "Careful," Elijah squeaked. "I shaved this morning. I'm good."

  The newcomer grabbed the haft of the spear and eased it away from Elijah's throat. "I saw it too," he said, his brown eyes narrowing. He was shorter than Yeorfac and a little older, his red hair and beard starting to gray. "I am Zandui, of Clan Tarven. We are of the Ice Fang Nation."

  Thank Christ. Someone sensible—or as sensible as one could be while talking about clans and nations.

  He doesn't have a spear at your throat. Sensible enough for me.

  "And you are our prisoner," Zandui stated, yanking a set of leather cords from his belt. "Hold your hands out in front of you."

  Prisoner? "Hold up," Elijah said, flinching away from the pair of them. "I think we've got some wires crossed somewhere. I—"

  The butt of the spear appeared out of nowhere and smashed between his eyebrows, snapping his head back. Elijah slammed flat on his back, blinking as the world slowly came in and out of focus. If he didn't have a concussion before, he suspected he was working up to one. Good thing he had a thick skull, as his dad often told him.