Savant & Feral (Digital Boxed Set): Books 1 and 2 of the Epic Luminether Fantasy Series

by Richard Denoncourt

  The twins watched with fascination as the Sargonaut boy unslung the bow and twirled it like a baton with one hand. When he walked toward them, it was with the confidence of someone who owned the land at his feet.

  “Think you can just stay out all night,” Ascher said in a gruff but quiet voice, like he was worried about being overheard. “Mind my words, Sevarin—if you don’t start following the rules, I’ll have you tied to a levathon and dragged across the mountain tops.”

  The boy—Sevarin—looked to be about fifteen or sixteen years old and was a full head taller than Milo. He wore a white tunic with dirt stains all over it and trousers that ended at the knees. The straps of his sandals crisscrossed up his calves, and his feet were black with dirt. He wore a thin, golden circlet around his forehead that gleamed in the sun. His outfit looked strange, even for this place. It almost looked like a uniform.

  “Who are they?” he said, nodding at the twins without looking at them. His accent was familiar. Milo found himself getting annoyed. He saw that Emma was also frowning.

  “I’ll explain later,” Ascher said. He pointed back over his shoulder at the carriage. “Now get in.”

  The boy ignored Ascher. Instead, he looked down at Milo and uttered a single word: “Sevarin.”

  Milo shifted his weight from one foot to the other. He made unsteady eye contact with the taller boy, who reminded him of certain bullies from school.

  “Milo,” he said meekly.

  Sevarin nodded once and looked at Emma. Interest lit upon his face. He smiled.

  “And who’s the chick? Girlfriend?”

  Emma blushed and avoided Sevarin’s gaze. An angry feeling lit up inside Milo as Sevarin looked Emma up and down.

  “Her name is Emma,” Milo said, “and she’s my sister.”

  Sevarin smirked. “I see who got the looks in the family.”

  One of the levathons whinnied and stomped its hooves. Ascher gave a gruff sigh and went to the carriage.

  Sevarin pulled an arrow from his quiver and inspected it as one would a precious artifact. His face was smooth and unblemished, with high cheekbones and large, brown eyes. His lips were thick and looked prone to pouting.

  “So, Emma, is your brother always this uptight?”

  “My brother,” Emma said, lifting her chin, “shot a fireball from the palm of his hand and killed two Dark Acolytes and a Pestilent.”

  Sevarin nodded. “Yeah, I know. It’s been all over the papers. Next to the picture of me arm-wrestling Sargos.”

  “I’m serious,” Emma said, making fists.

  Sevarin slid the arrow back into the quiver. Milo was no longer listening. He was staring down at his palms, remembering the soothing heat that had formed there, the explosion of light and fire that had soared out of him.

  “You’re lying,” Sevarin said.

  “Am not. And you know it, animal-killer.” Emma was casting fireballs of her own now.

  “What?” Sevarin said. “You’ve never eaten a hamburger? Buffalo wings? We had the best spicy wings back in Baltimore…”

  “I don’t care! Milo, tell him you cast that fireball.” Her voice faltered. “Tell him how you tried to save Dad.”

  Milo looked once more at his hands, then let them drop to his sides. He was feeling dizzy. His father’s words hummed in his skull.

  Maybe someday, you’ll give hope to these troubled realms.

  “Hey, Pop,” Sevarin shouted, keeping his eyes on Milo. “One of your kids says he cast a fireball spell that killed two Dark Acolytes and a Pestilent.” He chuckled. “These human kids and their imaginations.”

  Ascher had been watering the levathons for the trip back. When he heard Sevarin’s words, he dropped the bowl and looked at the twins. “I wouldn’t make up stories like that, kids. You’re in enough danger as it is.”

  Emma stomped her foot. “But it’s true. I’m not making it up. Milo, say something!”

  Milo looked at their faces. The dizziness had faded. Ascher, Emma, and Sevarin were all looking at him as if he’d done something wrong.

  “What?” he said, turning his palms up as if to prove they held nothing, including magical forces. He was still not sure if the fireball had been his doing, or if his father, or some other person, had been protecting him. After all, what did he know about magic?

  “Is it true?” Ascher said, bumbling over to him.

  Milo turned his face away.

  “Milo,” Emma said in a harsh whisper. “Tell him.”

  “I don’t know,” Milo said. “I mean—maybe—I’m not really…”

  “That explains the smell,” Ascher said, his eyes widening as though he’d been struck by a fascinating idea. “The bodies were gone when I landed the carriage, but the smell was still in the air. I’ve smelled it before.”

  “Smelled what, Pop?” Sevarin said.

  Ascher crouched until his face was almost level with Milo’s. He was a big guy. He studied Milo with fascination.

  “Burning feathers.”

  Milo stared back in confusion. He too had smelled it, though at the time too many questions and fears had been zipping through his mind for him to be thinking about smells.

  “A fireball,” Ascher said, his eyes becoming distant for a moment as he scratched his beard. “How old are you, Milo?”

  “I’m thirteen—well, not anymore. Our birthday was more than a month ago. Emma and I are fourteen now.”

  “Well, happy birthday.” Ascher’s voice and his face were grim. He stood up straight and gave Sevarin a hard look. “Sev, I’m making you responsible for the safety of these children whenever I’m not around. Do you understand?”

  A dramatic sigh. “Pop, you can’t be serious. I have stuff to do. My friends…”

  “I’ve never been more serious in my life. All of you back in the carriage. It’s time to go.”

  CHAPTER 21

  T he carriage cut across the sky, parting a small cloud and making it curl into itself.

  Milo gazed at fields of grass and sprawling forests that reminded him of all the natural, peaceful places he’d ever been in. The seacoast was on his right, the sand sparkling white like crushed glass. He had never seen anything like it except in pictures of tropical islands.

  A village appeared in the distance, the buildings and temples clustered tightly together. As they flew over it, Milo saw strange symbols above the steeples; nothing from any religion he’d ever studied in school.

  West of the village, a sprawling forest extended all the way to the mountains, which ran in a jagged column as far north as he could see. The carriage headed that way, north along the range, away from the village and into a wilder region that looked untouched by civilization. The trip took several hours, and all they had to eat were nuts and shard-like bread crackers that Ascher gave them from small bags. It was the most enthralling ride Milo had ever experienced, despite the fact that his mom and dad were constantly on his mind.

  “Here we are,” Ascher said as he pulled up on the steering rod and the levathons tilted downward. “Home, sweet home.”

  That was when Milo saw it; a sprawling ranch with a squat central building shaped like a plus sign. Around it were farm buildings, a forest, and a small pond. A line of smoke drifted up from one of the building’s three chimneys.

  They landed. The ride had been a bumpy one. It felt good to be on solid ground again. Ascher brought the carriage to a stop in front of a huge red barn.

  “This is it,” he said. “Sevarin. Hey, Sev.”

  Sevarin had fallen asleep in the front seat, clutching the bow to his chest. Ascher brought him awake with a poke to the ribs.

  “Wha—!”

  “You went against my wishes and stayed out last night. For that, you get to clean this carriage until I can see my reflection in the metal. Then I want you to clean out the stables and feed the levies.”

  “But, Pop!”

  Ascher ignored him and stepped out of the carriage. It rose slightly as the man’s great weight lifted
off the axles. Milo and Emma followed. Once on solid ground, they had to massage their bellies to fend off nausea.

  “It’s the air,” Ascher said, inspecting the levathons. “It’s thinner here than it is in your world. Also, the two of you need to eat something besides crackers.”

  The twins nodded.

  “Home, sweetest of homes,” Sevarin sang as they walked toward the house. He plucked the string of his bow like a harp.

  Sunlight fell across the surrounding fields and trees, brightening them. The breeze made a quiet rustling sound, and the snick snick of someone chopping wood nearby rose like the soft ticking of the world turning one lazy degree at a time. Milo felt comfortable here, though he missed Dearborn, New Jersey. He missed the comfort of being in a place he understood.

  The four climbed the stairs onto an immense porch that wrapped around three sides of the building’s face. Sevarin walked ahead of the twins, and when they were all at the door, he turned to block their path. The calm look from before had flown off his face, leaving a harsh expression of warning. Ascher went through the screen door, unaware that the children had stayed behind.

  “The only reason we’re letting you two stay here,” Sevarin said, “is because you’re both Godkin. But I just want you to know, if you bring any trouble to this house, I’ll be the first to throw you out. And trust me, I can throw things pretty far.”

  Emma raised her chin in defiance. “I’ll give you my trust when you earn it.”

  She pushed past Sevarin and went through the door. Sevarin watched her go, eyes wide with shock and the slightest bit of admiration. Then he looked at Milo.

  “Is she always like that?”

  “She’s strong-willed,” Milo said, and walked in after his sister.

  The inside of the house smelled faintly like overturned earth. There was also a sweet, piney smell that reminded Milo of Christmas trees.

  He inspected his surroundings. The living room was enormous. The walls shone from the rays of sunlight streaming through the arched windows, and the furniture was plush and inviting.

  There were plants everywhere that reached up to the glowing windows to drink in the light, and, in each of the room’s four corners, a statue carved from radiant green stone—an Acolyte, a Sargonaut, a Feral, and a Savant.

  There was another room next to this one, filled with light and color. The twins could see it through a pair of sliding glass doors.

  “Wow,” Milo said.

  Emma followed his gaze. “What’s in there?”

  “Go ahead,” Ascher said, inclining his head toward it. “Take a look.”

  They stepped into a large, open courtyard with a red-tiled floor surrounded by exotic plants and trees. A light breeze swirled at their feet, trapped by the low brick walls. The flowers were so bright and numerous that it looked as if paint had been splashed everywhere. Even more colorful were the birds darting from one tree to the next and filling the air with their lighthearted chirps.

  The smells and colors weren’t even the best part. In the shade of the leafy canopy of a tree growing beyond the wall, a levathon stood with its wings pulled in. There were buckets and hoses around it, and it was obvious someone had just given it a wash.

  Milo had never seen a creature so white and clean. Its coat gleamed as if sunrays clung to each fiber, creating a sparkling coat of light. Emma approached the levathon and stared in awe as it whinnied and stamped its hooves. She reached out to touch its head. Milo lunged forward to stop her.

  “Emma, wait!”

  “It’s okay,” Ascher said, observing from a distance. “Vastanon won’t bite her.”

  “Vastanon,” Milo said, watching as the levathon tilted its head in Emma’s direction so she could stroke its forehead.

  A rustling sound came from the tree directly above the creature. Leaves rained down and a few stuck to Emma’s hair. Sevarin, appearing so suddenly that he took everyone by surprise, fell through the air and landed behind Vastanon, his sandals clapping against the tile. Vastanon bucked and kicked his hind legs at the boy, making Emma and Milo draw back.

  “He’s a rowdy one,” Sevarin said, dancing to avoid the kicks. The commotion caused tiny birds to dart out of the tree.

  “Enough, Sev.” Ascher had turned on a faucet sticking out of a pillar and was filling a bucket with water. “You know he doesn’t like it.”

  “You’re making him angry,” Emma said.

  Sevarin danced around the levathon, chuckling as it tried to slap him with its wings. Frowning at the boy, Ascher came up to Milo and Emma and placed the bucket at their feet.

  “Dip your hands in here,” he said. “It’s almost dinner time.”

  Milo looked up at him. “Do you have any soap?”

  “Not necessary. You’ll see.”

  Milo plunged his hands into the icy water. He didn’t have to scrub off the dirt. The water pulled every particle of it off, leaving the skin spotless. Even his nails were clean. Emma reached down and quickly dunked each hand, then wiped them on her tights. Milo found it odd that she had gone through all of this wearing ballet tights, not once showing an ounce of embarrassment. She kept her eyes on Sevarin and Vastanon, her face set in an angry scowl.

  “Ready to battle?” Sevarin said.

  He leaped onto Vastanon’s back, right between his wings. The levathon started spinning and bucking, its nostrils shivering in rage. It flapped its wings, casting about currents of air that pushed the twins back a step. The plants in the courtyard trembled. Some of the flowers changed color in fright.

  Ascher smiled in cynical amusement.

  “Watch this.”

  Sevarin stood on the creature’s back, arms outspread in a careful balancing act. He looked at Emma and winked. The levathon bucked and kicked and whinnied, trying to knock the boy off, but Sevarin kept his balance, holding his arms out like a surfer riding a wave. He was able to stay on for a full five seconds before the levathon succeeded in bashing him with one of its wings. He flew off the animal’s back and landed in a bush that sucked its flowers into its stems upon impact.

  Ascher placed his hand on the levathon’s snout and whispered in its ear. The animal snorted once and shook its head before settling into a state of calm, though it took a while for its breathing to return to normal. Milo had to admit he was impressed.

  “You’re such a show-off,” Emma said, her face pink with rage.

  Sevarin picked himself up out of the bush and brushed himself off, still grinning.

  “Aw, come on,” he said. “Me and Ol’ Vastanon are good friends. We do this all the time.”

  “Oh, really?” Emma lifted the bucket. “Do you do this?”

  She swung the bucket. The water broke over Sevarin with a slap. Vastanon tipped his head back and snorted with delight.

  Ascher howled laughter. Emma was also laughing, though it was more of a satisfied chuckle. Sevarin wiped his eyes and looked down at his soaked clothes.

  “Why, you little human…”

  “Hey, none of that,” Ascher said, still laughing. “It serves you right.”

  Milo was the only one not laughing, and that was because something else had captured his attention. He was standing next to one of the white pillars supporting the arcade that formed an L-shape above the courtyard. Something was creeping up the length of the pillar. At first, he feared it was a stinging insect or some kind of snake.

  He inspected it as Emma teased Sevarin about his wet clothes. Ascher was fumbling with a heavy lock on a set of double doors meant to allow the levathons in and out of the courtyard. For the moment, no one was watching Milo.

  He turned his attention back to the twining thing on the pillar. It was a vine with velvety purple flowers that puckered open like kissing mouths before Milo’s eyes. The petals moved as if yearning to grab something. Milo reached forward and let his hand hover above one of the flowers. Just as he had expected, the petals reached for his fingers.

  At the center of each flower was a light pink, coin-shaped
bud. It looked like a button. Milo reached out and pressed one, careful not to let the petals touch him in case they were poisonous. As soon as he touched it, the flower began to spin. It spun fast enough to become a blur and possibly cut off someone’s finger.

  The bud went from light pink to a deep red, the color of blood. A moment later, it stopped spinning.

  “So it’s true.” Ascher came up behind Milo, startling him. “It’s as I feared, then.”

  Milo turned and hid the flower with his body.

  “What’s true?”

  Ascher’s look gave Milo a dropping sensation in his gut. The old man’s heavy white brows were low over his eyes, and his voice came out deep and hesitant. He was looking at the flower.

  “Inadurazna flowers were first discovered in the northernmost reaches of Astros. Savant botanists modified them to grow in any climate. Pretty things they are, and very special. They’re sensitive to luminether and seek it the way a normal plant does the light of the sun.”

  “Luminether?” Milo said.

  “It’s an essence, like oxygen. I guess you could say it’s a type of fuel. Savants use it to connect their thoughts to the world and then manipulate it. What you call magic. Ferals use it to phase into animal forms. Sargonauts and Acolytes use it to power their muscles and wings. Handy stuff, if you’re Godkin.”

  Emma and Sevarin had stopped teasing each other and came up behind Ascher. They watched Milo with concern.

  “What happened?” Emma said.

  Milo moved aside so they could all see the flower. “I don’t know,” he said. “I just touched it and—and it…”

  “It matured.” Ascher bent over to inspect the flower. “You brought it to its next stage of development. Only a high concentration of luminether can do that. In other words, a strong magical presence.”

  Emma touched one of the flowers in its center as Milo had done. The flower reddened but not nearly as much as Milo’s.

  “Come with me,” Ascher said. “Let’s sit outside and talk. Dinner’s almost ready, and in the meanwhile, Sevarin will get us tea and biscuits and those little zanzibun sandwiches I like. Crispy, not soggy.”