Daniel glanced at me. “Knight? What is he talking about?”
I chose my words carefully. Jason had sworn me to secrecy over his fate, but I had to give Daniel something.
“It’s precautionary,” I replied. “It’d be a good back-up plan to have if something awful were to happen to one of us. The problem is, I don’t know if I’m strong enough without Magic Instinct to intentionally harness that kind of power.”
“Which is why I have provided you with this dead creature,” Merlin said, gesturing to the dove. “I can tell by the grayness in your eyes that you’re in the midst of a grueling spell of Magic Exhaustion. But I had a vision about your time in Bluebeard Tower. You’re powerful, and given the right motivations, you can harness your magic before it’s done rebooting.”
“But that’s only with Magic Instinct,” I argued.
“You can do it without Magic Instinct,” Merlin insisted. “I’ve done it. And I have a feeling you have the potential to be even more powerful than I am.”
“But I—”
“Crisanta, you have to try. This is a safe space to experiment. If you can’t restore life to this tiny creature in this controlled environment then you’ll have no hope when a friend’s life is on the line.”
Silence hung for a few moments as I thought it over.
I sighed. “I wouldn’t even know how to start.”
“I don’t believe that,” Merlin stated. “Harness your emotions the way you did before but combine them with your will. Magic Instinct is a defensive tactic. You lose control because you are in immediate peril and the power protects you like a reflex. I’m telling you that you can be that powerful without letting go or being in direct danger. Use your emotions like an offensive tactic. Gather all that focus you’ve been training with, but don’t block out everything you’re feeling like you’re some kind of level-minded machine. Allow the emotions to build inside and then give them purpose.”
I looked at the dove and bit my lip. Then I picked up the creature and cupped it in my palms.
“Strong emotions run inside you, Crisanta,” Merlin coached softly. “You bury them a lot of the time because they lend your Pure Magic power. But the other side of that coin is that they give you power. I understand it is dangerous, as letting emotion fuel your magic could enhance your odds of turning dark. But feeling things deeply is genuinely your only shot at becoming more powerful. And in the long term, becoming more powerful is your only shot at saving the ones you love.”
I was still weak from Magic Exhaustion, so this was a bad idea. I didn’t exactly trust Merlin, so this was a bad idea. My magic training with Liza had always been about trying to avoid combining emotion with magic, so this was a bad idea. And I hated how intoxicating that emotion-fueled rush of power felt in Bluebeard Tower, so this was an exceptionally bad idea. Yet I closed my eyes and let the feelings flow.
Merlin may have been a lot of unlikeable things, but he was right about this. If I couldn’t garner the power to bring a bird back to life, I had no hope of restoring life to Jason. And doing that was more important than protecting myself against my power-hungry Pure Magic. Protecting the people I cared for was more important than protecting myself, period. I was willing to put myself at greater risk of turning dark if it meant I’d have the power to truly make a difference and save my friends.
Since I didn’t have a strong emotional connection to this dove—past my general desire to save it—I had to dig deep for an emotional charge. I thought about my desperation to enhance my magic to use it on Jason, my fear that I wouldn’t be able to, and my love for my good friend that was causing me to do this. Those feelings mixed with my will as I concentrated on what I wanted to happen. I imagined the small dove’s heart beating, his eyes bursting open, his wings flapping into the sky.
I felt magic searing through me. Waves of pain radiated through my body. It was much worse than anything I’d felt all day. My system was not strong enough in this recuperative state to sustain much, but I forced myself to continue. My eyes burned beneath the lids, causing me to open them.
“Knight, your eyes,” Daniel said in shock. “They’re … glowing.”
I was too deep in the trance to respond. Daniel seemed miles away. I focused harder, letting the emotion I normally contained swell so much that it hurt. Then I breathed out a single word, a command full of my absolute will.
“Live,” I whispered.
A golden aura flowed down my arms until it culminated in my hands, which pulsed like two petite suns. Then, all at once, the energy was sucked into the body of the dove. The creature’s charred plumage shone beneath a small beam of light that burst from its chest. Then the plumage changed to white and the bird’s tiny black eyes peered up at me. In the next instant, he flipped over in my hands and flew off.
I grinned ecstatically, but only for a moment. A second later my glow shut off like an extinguished candelabra and my stamina went with it. I collapsed to the grass. I heard Daniel say my name, but again it felt like he was far away.
Even dressed in armor and dripping with sweat from a Twenty-Three Skidd match, Chance Darling still looked perfect.
He dismounted his Pegasus and handed the reins to a waiting attendant while tucking his silver helmet with forest green plumage under his arm. As he made his way into the tunnel that led to the arena’s locker rooms, Girtha caught up with him. She too was dressed in armor, and her massive right hand clung to a helmet with the same color plumage as Chance’s. They were on the same Lord Channing’s team, after all.
“Darling,” Girtha said as she approached. “What’s the work schedule look like tomorrow? You got enough people on overtime? Spring break is almost over, which means Crisa will be back soon and we’ve still got a lot of construction to do on the upper levels.”
“I know,” Chance responded. “But we’ll be fine. Between your volunteers from Lady Agnue’s, the workers I hired, and the solid team of guys from Lord Channing’s assisting in the endeavor, we should be able to get the job done.”
“Cool.” Girtha nodded. “By the way, I’ve been meaning to ask you something. I get how being the grandson of King Midas lets you turn stuff to gold and afford the workers, but how did you get so many volunteers to help out? Some heroes might be tempted by the gold, but the princes from Lord Channing’s don’t need the money. And good guys or not, staying at school and volunteering their spring break to do this … Well, it just doesn’t add up.”
“Their assistance cost me a lot,” Chance admitted. “Plenty of guys were willing to pitch in for free because they were already staying at school for the break, but many weren’t. I had to exchange a lot of favors to get the support I needed. I’ve been doing homework for younger students whose classes I’ve already taken. In my spare time I’m giving private training sessions to guys on the fencing, archery, and swim teams so they can make first string next term. And I’ve traded away my prized horses back home. Just to name a few things anyway.”
“Dang, man,” Girtha said in awe. “You must really like her to go through all that. Does she know you feel this way?”
“I don’t think so. But I don’t blame her,” Chance replied. “With my history, Crisanta has every reason to doubt me. And if I’m honest, even now I’m not sure if I am worthy of her forgiveness or good graces.”
“Aw, cheer up, Princey,” Girtha said, throwing her massive arm around Chance’s shoulders and crushing him a bit. “I used to think you were a total tool, but now you’ve got my full respect. Crisa may not be quick to trust, but she’s got a good heart and she believes that people can change. And you, my friend, have changed.”
The scene shifted to a wintery forest. A multi-story wooden cabin came into view. Sleek silvery railings and metallic ducts ran along the outside and through the compound like tunnels in a hamster cage. Smoke poured out of the cabin’s stone chimney. Several guards in black turtlenecks, pants, and parkas paced around the area. They were each holding dark, long-nosed things, which looked l
ike weapons I’d seen in the Die Hard movies we’d watched on Earth.
Machine guns, I believe they were called.
Snow clung to the roof of the large cabin and the pine trees that surrounded it—falling here and there when a bird or squirrel rustled its integrity.
Suddenly a loud shriek pierced the air. The birds took flight in panic. Even the guards looked a bit disconcerted. Their reaction to the noise had nothing on mine though. I knew with utmost certainty that the scream in the dream was my own.
I woke from the nightmare and found myself lying on a dusty suede couch. It was maroon and smelled like old cheese. The room I was in had a glass ceiling that was covered in vines and cobwebs. It seemed I was in some sort of greenhouse.
I sat up and saw that behind the couch the greenhouse was so overgrown with trees and plants that I had no way of telling how big it was. However, the area immediately in front of the couch was modeled like a small den.
Bookshelves with vines growing through holes in the wood stood against the back wall. Every shelf was loaded with withered, damp-looking books and miscellaneous knickknacks. The floor was all grass and weeds, forming a thick, organic shag carpet. Flowers I didn’t recognize grew from clumps of moss that covered the coffee table across from the couch. There were vines along the couch too, which had somehow wrapped around my left leg and arm. I had to yank really hard to get them to release their grip before I could stand up.
That’s when the pain came like a wave. It felt like a Giant of Geene was sitting on me. Every breath felt labored. Every cell ached. And my throat hurt the way it did whenever I had consumed too many cough drops—sour, but kind of icy.
I grabbed the edge of the couch to keep from stumbling.
“Daniel? Merlin?” I called out.
Two seconds later, Daniel and our wizard host emerged from the greenery.
“Glad you’re awake,” Daniel said.
He was carrying a lumpy burlap sack. Merlin had a sack of his own. I was about to inquire as to their purpose when I noticed Daniel was staring at me. Not in a you’ve-got-chocolate-on-your-face kind of way, but in a I’m-really-worried-about-you kind of way.
“You shouldn’t have used your magic, Knight,” he said anxiously. “Even if you were trying to test its capabilities, you were already drained from your Bluebeard chapter. It wasn’t safe to try anything so soon.”
“Merlin wanted me to test it and I’m glad I did,” I admitted. “Now I know that I can use my powers to save others.”
“Only if you live long enough to get the chance,” Daniel countered. He set his sack on the coffee table and several red potatoes spilled out. There was a dirty, broken mirror that hung in a rusty frame on the wall adjacent. Daniel went over to it, selected a shard, and brought it over to me. “Powers of life or not, you keep pushing yourself and that same magic that saved you is gonna burn out and destroy you.”
He held up the mirror fragment, forcing me to look at myself. My face was so white it would have given ghosts a reality check. My normally forest green eyes were a creepy silver color. Not only that, my pupils lacked all brightness. They looked dead. Sort of like how I felt inside.
“All right, I see your point,” I said. “I’ll take it down a notch with the magic.”
“Try ten notches,” Daniel replied. “I’m all for you improving your powers, but doing it while you’re in a state of Magic Exhaustion is too dangerous. Luckily, Merlin says he can fix up a potion to restore some of your strength.”
Daniel gestured at Merlin. The wizard had his arm elbow-deep inside a potted plant and seemed to be ignoring us.
“Um, Merlin?” Daniel said.
“Hang on, I’ve almost got it,” Merlin mumbled. “Here we go!” He gleefully pulled out a silver coin the size of a sand dollar from the pot, then moved across the den and placed it in a circular indentation on the bottom level of a bookshelf. The slot accepted the coin like a vending machine. In response, the bookshelf shifted aside and revealed a dark shaft. Inside was a thin metal pole like you’d find at a fire station, leading to who knows where.
“The potion shouldn’t take me more than an hour to prepare,” Merlin said as he rolled up the sleeves of his robe. “You kids can make yourselves a snack while I work. First though, I want to give you those magical items I mentioned.”
Merlin grabbed his sack of ingredients and the sack Daniel had put on the table, swinging them both over his shoulder. Then he slid down the metal pole with one hand.
“Wahoo!” he shouted as he disappeared from sight.
“Are we supposed to follow him?” I asked.
“I guess,” Daniel said. “You wanna go first?”
“Um, why don’t you lead?”
Daniel shrugged, put the mirror shard on the table, and approached the shadowy shaft. He leapt off the ground and slid down the pole. I scurried to the edge and peered down after him, but by then he was lost in blackness. When I heard a thud indicating he’d found the floor somewhere below, I took it as my cue to go.
The pole was four feet away from the edge, so jumping was a necessity. I summoned all my strength to bridge the distance, bounded into the shaft, and grabbed onto the cold metal pole with my hands while my legs wrapped around it.
My hair and dress whistled through the updraft of the shaft. Things grew darker and darker until I could not even see an inch from my nose. Then abruptly I dropped into an amazing place that was like nothing I’d ever seen.
I landed on the grassy floor of a cavern, which was a cross between an elaborate potions lab and a mystical, underground garden. Merlin was off to the side explaining something to Daniel and pointing at the silvery stone walls, which displayed everything it would take to keep SJ occupied for a hundred years.
And I thought Julian’s potions lab back in Oz was impressive.
Beakers, test tubes, and other lab equipment cluttered the solid gold countertops. Many containers on display were glass, but plenty of others were reinforced with gemstones. Some were even made of gemstones.
Liquids streamed steadily from fountains that stuck out along the right wall. The spouts were stone renderings of animal faces—deer, fish, ravens, squirrels. The liquids they emitted were all different. While a thin purple stream pouring from one spout smelled like grape juice, another next to it ejected a much thicker substance that looked a lot like blood. Each of these liquids poured into a gold basin also sticking out of the wall about a foot beneath each fountain.
I opened one of the cabinets beneath a countertop and discovered it was stocked with a myriad of jarred ingredients—golden eggshells, a lone monkey foot floating inside greenish oil, a pink yogurty substance labeled “Flower Child Phlegm,” blue radishes, moldy pie, and countless other weird things.
On the opposite wall were more countertops and cabinets. There were also several sinks, cauldrons of various sizes, and large piles of scrap metal. On one of the countertops I spotted a big glass jar full of bolts and screws.
Instead of fountains, the wall on the left featured grand glass dispensers. Each of these vessels contained different colored sand—Merlin’s various potion sands I presumed. It was all terribly impressive.
And yet, as mesmerizing as the potions laboratory was, the rest of the room was even more awe-inspiring. It was beautiful and bewildering all at the same time. Above us, where the roof of the cavern should have been, a night sky swirled with deep shades of navy and onyx and twinkled with stars. Meanwhile, a gorgeous acre of flower bushes grew over the ground. They featured only one type of flower—blossoms with tiny blue petals and bright yellow centers. These flowers gave off such a radiant glow that the entire area was lit up by their mystical aura.
“It’s amazing,” I commented as I stepped into a pathway between one of the rows of flower bushes.
“Forget-Me-Nots,” Merlin said looking around the room, which I guess he hadn’t seen in a long time. “A very useful plant. It has many magical properties and can create a powerful potion.”
&
nbsp; Merlin picked up a small device from one of his countertops. It looked like a compass, and he began wading through the bushes with it. The compass made beeping noises that changed in pitch as he delved through the garden. After about a minute of hastily combing the rows, the compass chimed loudly and Merlin dove into one of the dense flower bushes. He eventually popped back up, his sleeves dirty and his beard full of leaves and twigs. Between his fingers he clutched a single flower that was the same shape and size as the others but was all yellow.
He returned to Daniel and me and held it up for us to study more closely. “One in every three thousand Forget-Me-Nots has a special bit of magic that can let you see people’s memories,” he explained. “It needs to be brewed carefully with a reverse Sleeping Capsule Spell by a master potionist, but the end result is quite extraordinary. That is one of the magical gifts I’d like to give you, Crisanta Knight,” he said, looking at me seriously. “In warfare, there is no greater power than understanding your enemy. So, given how many enemies you have, I am offering you this flower—and a second one as soon as I find it—so that in the future you can be better prepared to face the people who threaten you.”
“Um, thank you,” I said.
I was grateful, as this truly was a special gift, but Merlin’s shifting personality was keeping me more off balance than the Shifting Forest. I was still pretty sure I didn’t like him, but here he was giving me magical gifts and preparing to brew a potion to restore my strength. What the frack was this guy’s deal? All I could say for certain was that he was a puzzle.
“I’m not done,” Merlin replied. He pulled out a box from beneath one of the cabinets. Inside the box was an assortment of necklaces with tiny glass test tubes hanging from the cords like paper clip-sized pendants. He popped the Forget-Me-Not into one and sealed it with a purple stopper. Then he placed it on the counter and took out a second cord necklace, which he uncorked. He went to a dispenser on the wall that contained a mauve potion sand. There wasn’t much left. He held the tube beneath the dispenser and pressed a button that caused the last of it to pour into the tube.
Crisanta Knight: To Death & Back Page 32