“Faster,” she said.
“What?”
“Faster, go faster!”
“A’right! Hold on!”
Emma held on for dear life. Even with the harness, which included a seatbelt that went around her waist, she felt that she could fall at any moment. She looked down at the seatbelt just to make sure it was secure—and then she saw that it wasn’t. It flapped at her side. She had pulled the pin out of the hole in the leather, which was really stupid.
And yet, with her arms around Sevarin, she felt like nothing could separate them.
She looked to her right and saw clouds beyond Vastanon’s wing, piled on top of each other like scoops of vanilla ice cream served for the gods’ dessert.
“I want to be in the clouds,” she said into Sevarin’s ear.
She was so close to the boy that she could see his glistening scalp beneath his short, tight curls. He smelled fresh, like he’d recently showered. She wished they were face to face so she could look into his soft, brown eyes while the sky stretched to infinity around them.
“Wanna see the clouds?”
“No,” she said. “I want to be in them.”
“I can do that.”
“But be careful, Sevarin.”
His shoulders shifted as he pulled the reins. The levathon tilted, and instead of going straight, they veered to the right, toward three scoops of vanilla cloud piled on top of each other.
Vastanon whinnied, Sevarin whooped, and Emma squealed as the three of them dove in and coursed through the misty air. She saw only whiteness. She felt only the light water particles hanging in the air.
“Thank you, Sevarin.”
He reached back with his left hand. She pulled her own hand free and slipped it into his. Sevarin gave it a gentle squeeze. His fingers felt strong enough to crush stone.
This was the life she wanted, to fly through the skies whenever she felt like it—to be as free and light as a bird.
A ripping, grinding pain shattered the moment.
It felt as though someone had slashed vertical lines on either side of her spine with a freezing cold knife. She could picture the blood streaming like red ribbons trailing in the wind.
She fell screaming from the harness, and the last thing she saw was Sevarin reaching down for her, his mouth an O of surprise, before the whiteness swallowed him up.
CHAPTER 55
“Y ou’re going to have to be here for a year, at least,” Emmanuel said.
He and Milo sat across from each other on large rocks that Emmanuel, using magic, had swept clean of snow and water. It had taken a single, brushing motion of one hand to clean them off, without even touching them. Afterward, he had smiled at Milo.
“With enough practice, you could lift those rocks out of the ground and mold them into a chair.”
A strong wind swept through the forest, adding to the mystery of the moment and causing snow to drip like frosting from the leaves. Milo could barely breathe, so thick was his excitement. He was going to learn magic—for real this time.
Then his uncle’s words sank in, and he shot up off the rock.
“A whole year? But what about Emma? And my mother?”
Emmanuel motioned for Milo to sit back down. The snow flashed in his glasses.
“Are you familiar with time dilation?”
Milo gave a slow nod. “It’s a spell that can warp the fabric of space-time, making a small portion of the world age at a different speed than the rest. Only the most powerful magicians know how to do it.” He gave his uncle a look of suspicion. “You wouldn’t be able to keep a spell like that going for more than a few hours.”
Emmanuel lifted both arms and grinned. “I’ve always suspected Ascher ran the best school on Taradyn. Now I know it’s true.” He adjusted his glasses and lost the smile. “I keep the spell going using time-dilation engines—machines that split luminether atoms, sort of like a nuclear reactor. All I have to do is recast the spell every few weeks to keep it accurate.”
Milo sat back down. “Where are these machines? In the forest?”
“No. Beneath it.” He motioned for Milo to get up and follow him. “Where we’re going—if you agree to come with me, that is—years can go by in a matter of hours here on the surface. That means that when you get back to the ranch, you’ll be a year older than you were this morning. Everyone else will be the same. Do you understand how this could be painful for you?”
Milo looked back at the ranch. “I think so. I’ll have to spend the next year away from Emma, and certain other people.”
He thought of Lily.
“That’s right,” his uncle said. “They won’t even notice you’ve been gone. The pain of missing them will be your burden alone.”
“But wait,” Milo said. “A time dilation spell can only be cast on something small and contained, like a spaceship or a building. And it has to be kept sealed, so…”
Emmanuel raised a gloved hand. With a quick flick of his fingers he was able to make the ground shake. Was it a quake spell? No—only sorcerers could cast that.
Milo staggered a bit and had to loosen his knees to keep his balance. At first, he thought the whole forest was shaking. Then he saw that it was only him and his uncle and the patch of ground on which they were standing.
“We’d better step off,” Emmanuel said.
They stepped off the platform, which by then was a foot higher than the rest of the ground and steadily rising. Milo watched in silence. After a few minutes, it stopped, and he saw that it was not a platform at all, but a cage-like elevator wide enough for a carriage and a team of horses.
“Let’s go,” his uncle said, waving Milo along.
Milo stepped in, and his feet thrummed against the metal floor. The walls felt icy and wet, and Milo wished he hadn’t left his gloves on the pond. The elevator as a whole felt sturdy enough, but he had never liked elevators to begin with.
“I don’t know about this,” he said.
His uncle looked at him, a small turning of his head. There was something about the way the man moved, as if he had trained his body to be perfectly efficient in every motion.
“You can come with me or you can step off,” his uncle said. “My way, you learn magic. The other way, you spend your life in hiding, hoping the bad men never find you.”
Milo remained where he stood. “Where will this take us?”
Emmanuel pulled back the sleeve of his left arm and checked a gold watch strapped to his wrist. “I call it the Vault,” he said, letting the sleeve fall back. “It used to be a rebel base, back when your mother and father still led the Forge. We’ll be just in time for dinner.”
The elevator descended much faster than Milo had expected. His insides rose, giving him that pleasant feeling one gets on a rollercoaster when the carts are speeding toward the ground.
It was dark inside. The only light came from rows of tiny yellow bulbs along the floor’s edges. The grainy, mineral smell of rocks and soil filled the elevator as they descended past layers of buried earth.
Emmanuel stood like a pillar and didn’t speak once during the ride. Milo got the impression that his uncle was given to long silences, which suited Milo just fine. If they were going to be together for a year, they would have plenty of time to get to know each other. But still—he wished his uncle would say at least a few words to make him feel more comfortable.
A metallic whine pierced the air as the elevator slowed to a stop. Milo’s stomach settled back into place. The walls around them were dark, but only for a moment longer as a door yawned open and light flooded the elevator. Milo had to shield his eyes. A brilliant corridor stretched before him.
He stepped out of the elevator and stared in silent wonder at his surroundings. The corridor was not only sparkling clean, but there were signs on the walls pointing to the different places one could visit: the Infirmary, Nectarwine Cafeteria, the Eternal Gardens, the Bath House, the General Store, Astros Lounge, and various others. There were four floors, accor
ding to one of the signs, each accessible by elevator or stairs.
“It’s an underground building,” Milo said.
“A vault, to be exact. We get our energy from splitting luminether atoms and our water from an underground river that flows alongside us.”
Emmanuel led Milo through the corridor. It was quiet down here, but Milo could sense the hum of activity behind the walls.
His uncle spoke to him as they walked.
“There are vaults like this one scattered all over the continent, home to a large portion of the rebel forces. They went underground to hide when your mother and father disappeared. Most of them chose to flee Taradyn, though, which is why this vault is practically empty. Good for me. It allows me to do my work in peace.”
“An underground vault,” Milo said. “This is incredible.”
Emmanuel let out a hiss of laughter. He seemed unsuited to it.
“You remind me of your father,” he said.
Milo’s mood flipped, and suddenly he felt a pang of sadness strike him right through the chest. He stopped walking.
“I’m sorry,” Emmanuel said, stopping a few paces ahead, but not turning. “I know the wound is still fresh.”
Milo shrugged. “It’s okay. I just—it’s just that you remind me of him. A lot.”
Emmanuel turned and studied him, head slightly tilted. He took off his glasses and winced under the bright lights. He winced so strongly that Milo thought he might cry, but no, his eyes were just photosensitive. The light seemed to cause him pain—or maybe it was the memory of his younger brother.
“There’s a reason your father never spoke of me, Milo. Since the Forge was defeated, everyone I ever loved has been under the impression that I was dead. It became necessary for me to disappear so I could continue my work in peace. You’ll understand why in a few minutes. But I just want you to know that I can’t replace your father. And I don’t expect you to be my son”—he put his glasses back on and sighed—“I only hope I can help you become what you were meant to be.”
“And what am I supposed to be?” Milo said.
“A battlemage, my boy. Like your mother’s father.”
Milo scratched the side of his head. “My mother didn’t tell me much about him.”
Emmanuel continued down the corridor. Milo followed, his rubber boots squeaking against the floor.
“His name was Prestocles. He was a great warrior, a defender of the people, and a high priest in the Kenatosian Church. Then he disowned your mother, which cost him a lot of his popularity.”
“Disowned her,” Milo said. “Why?”
“Because she married your father. Prestocles wanted to marry her off to a Savant from one of the high houses of Theus. But anyway, that’s ancient history.”
Emmanuel stopped and stood slightly hunched over as if deep in thought. Then he spun on his heels and studied Milo’s hands. “Can you levitate objects using magic?”
“A little,” Milo said, and his cheeks warmed. “Baraltimus—he’s a friend of mine from the ranch—sort of told me I have a talent. But so far, I’ve only been able to levitate small objects. I tried a chair once, but it made me so tired I almost fainted.”
“Hmm.” Emmanuel nodded, stroking his chin with two fingers. The motion made him look like a scientist, which reminded Milo of something he’d read in one of his books on magic, that all magicians were scientists, even those like Lily who believed that magic comes from spiritual energies.
After a long pause, Emmanuel spoke. “Show me. Levitate my glasses.”
Milo lifted his right hand, stared hard at the black lenses on his uncle’s face and used the technique Barrel had taught him. He imagined a tiny disc hovering above the metallic bridge of the glasses and concentrated on tethering them using magical energy.
It wasn’t easy; in order to pull it off, he had to ignore everything outside himself—everything except his hand and the glasses and the imaginary disc. But it worked.
The glasses rose from Emmanuel’s face and hung there, spinning and wavering like a tiny helicopter manned by a drunken pilot.
“Very good,” Emmanuel said. “Concentration is a big part of spellcasting, and you definitely have a talent in that area. But why are you making it so hard on yourself?”
There were a dozen questions Milo wanted to ask, but the only thing that came out of his mouth was, “Huh?”
The glasses stopped spinning. Emmanuel plucked them out of the air before they could fall and slid them back on.
“Why were you concentrating so hard on something so simple? All I asked you to do was lift the glasses off my face, not cast a tether spell. That’s something a magician would have done. A sorcerer would have done what felt natural, which would have been a controlled wind spell.”
Milo raised his eyebrows. “I just cast a tether spell?”
“Tier One,” his uncle said, and shrugged. “So you never actually learned levitation. What happened?”
“I don’t know.” Milo sighed. “That’s just how I was taught.”
“Understandable. Baraltimus is a good teacher, but he is not a spellcaster. He doesn’t have the physical stamina for it.”
“You know Barrel? How?”
“I know all of the orphans.” Emmanuel crossed his arms. “It’s my job to protect them. Why do you think the emperor’s low mages haven’t been able to find you and your sister using their sightstones?”
“Because of the beacon crystal.”
Emmanuel uncrossed his arms and made a no-no-no motion with his index finger. “That’s not why. I had you and Ascher find the beacon crystal so I would have a way of locating you and Emma at all times. The reason the emperor’s low mages haven’t found the ranch is that I’ve kept a shrouding spell going on the generators. You see, the king’s low mages now have sightstones powerful enough to bypass a beacon crystal’s reflective capabilities. It’s how they were able to pinpoint your location behind the school that day when you were being bullied and your father showed up. Your father wasn’t aware of how limited and obsolete his beacon crystal had become. ”
Milo breathed out in relief. “In that case, on behalf of Ascher and all my friends—thanks.”
His uncle smiled. “Not necessary.” He spun on his heels again, hands clasped behind his back, and continued down the hall.
“Follow me,” he said. “I want to show you something.”
Deeper they went, into the bowels of the vault, until they came to a metal door that slid upward to reveal an immense, white room. The ceiling stretched up and up, easily a hundred feet above the floor.
“What is this place?”
“You’ll see,” his uncle said.
The room was empty except for a collection of black, pole-like devices about eight feet high. They were scattered all over the place. At the tip of each pole sat a box with four round lenses as black as onyx. They could have been projectors or cameras.
“This place is big,” Milo said.
“It’s as big as it needs to be.”
Emmanuel walked up to one of the camera-pole-box things and pressed a button on its top. A red light turned on and blinked above the lens.
“We’re about to watch something, Milo. I would offer you a drink or a snack, but I get the feeling you’d rather know what’s going on first.”
“Yeah—sure,” Milo said, watching the red light blink. “I mean, yes, sir. I’d like that very much.”
A low chuckle from his uncle. “No need to be so formal, kid. As you may have gathered, this is a screening room. I used to meet here with the other Champions, including your mother and father. We don’t use it much anymore, which explains why there aren’t any seats. But for what I’m about to show you, seats aren’t necessary.”
“Why not?” Milo noticed red lights on all of the poles now. “Are they projectors or something?”
“Smart boy. They’re holographic projectors.”
He pulled a remote control out of a pocket on his coat and held it up. Sleek an
d flashy, it seemed to have no buttons.
“I’m going to show you as much as I think you’re ready to see. Some of it will be disturbing, but it’s the truth. Are you ready?”
Milo’s hands were clammy. He put them into his pockets and then, on second thought, took them out and let them hang by his sides. He had to be tough if he was going to get through this.
“I’m ready.”
Emmanuel took off his sunglasses and slipped them into one of his many coat pockets. He pressed a button on the remote control. A mechanical beep sounded and the room went black.
Milo froze. The darkness was so thick it was like he’d gone blind. He could hear his own heart thumping in his chest. He saw a swarm of red dots from the projectors, but that was it.
Then the lenses began to glow so white that they lit up the lower half of the room like floodlamps.
Hills of light rose from the floor, took shape inside the viewing area, and filled with color. The angles sharpened, and the shapes became more complex and solid, forming a castle wall, a balcony, a cluster of men in fancy robes standing on it, awash in natural light. Long purple banners hung on the walls to either side of the balcony, and there was a symbol on each of the banners that looked like a white tower seen from below, its base tapering upward into a white flame at its peak.
The man standing at the forefront of the balcony, so lifelike that Milo felt he could reach out and touch him, was King Corgos, Emperor of Taradyn and Valestaryn. He stood frozen in mid-sentence. Milo had seen many pictures of the man and had heard stories about him from the other orphans. In this rendition, he was a fat man in a purple cloak with a face as broad as a dinner plate. He had the twinkly eyes of a bothersome but loveable uncle, though the rest of his face was not so pleasant: his mouth was wide and wet looking, as if he were someone who licked his lips constantly. His silky beard failed to hide his enormous jowls.
A small boy stood next to the emperor. Milo was at eye level with him, and this intensified the emotional effect of the image. He felt like bugs were crawling on his skin.
Something about the boy’s skin and hair was terribly wrong. There was absolutely no color anywhere on his body. He looked like a black-and-white statue in the otherwise colorful hologram. A tail hung behind him, its tip resting on the floor.
Savant & Feral (Digital Boxed Set): Books 1 and 2 of the Epic Luminether Fantasy Series Page 32