Digital Magic (The Chronicles of Art Book 2)

by Philippa Ballantine

  “She’ll be safe until morning,” Aroha shouldered her bag once more, “then the ferns will let her go and the bush will guide her back to Makara.”

  Daniel was staring. Perhaps he’d convinced himself that she was just a normal girl and he still knew more than her. Was he hurt that this wasn’t so? Either way, Aroha turned away from that look, for it was too new and different. She started back on their path.

  He followed after, but she could tell he kept glancing back at fern sanctuary for as long as it was visible.

  “That’s real power,” he finally said. “Imagine what you could do…”

  Aroha concentrated on walking faster.

  “I mean if we could have had that when we were fighting the…”

  “You don’t understand,” Aroha found the words leaping out of her mouth. “It’s not like that at all!”

  “Well, what is it like?”

  But he wouldn’t be able to grasp it: none of them could. It was not power. It was more than that. Aroha sighed; it was as deep as her bones and as elusive as spirit. The only explanation that she could give was one that Nana had told her.

  “It’s like faith.”

  Daniel’s brow furrowed, but it silenced him. He dropped back while chewing on that concept. Faith, like Aroha’s magic, could not be counted or measured, but both could be used for good or ill.

  Somehow the bush seemed to have been lightened, along with Aroha’s spirits, by Sally. It was good to know that she had a friend willing to break every rule to help her. Sometimes she felt so isolated by her gifts that it hurt, so it was nice to be reminded that she was still connected to humanity.

  She and Daniel labored up the increasing slope, slipping through mud and dodging tiny waterfalls. The main road would have been easier but it was also far more dangerous.

  At last, they broke through the trees and into the low scrub and grasses that dominated the hilltops. Aroha stopped, turned around, to look back down the valley. From here she couldn’t even see the settlement, only an unbroken undulating landscape of green that ran down to the sea. The first village had been built there and had remained until a hundred years ago, but the sea rose and the people had retreated further into the security of the bush. Even from here, Aroha could see the white topped waves and smell faintly the salt and violence of the ocean.

  Daniel appeared but kept his distance, watching her watch the ocean. Aroha didn’t want to tell him the truth—that this was the farthest she could remember having gone in her whole life. And the last time she’d even been here Nana had carried her. Aroha was a child of the bush. She’d never seen the city and was afraid. What would she find there, and could she survive without the whispers of the Folk?

  Their friendship must be paid for, and knowing that, she turned her back against the bush and the ocean.

  “If we hurry we can make the outskirts of the city before nightfall,” Daniel said, “and we better not try to get all the way after dark. Things are… different there now.”

  Aroha tried not to notice the lump in her throat. Nana had told her all about the city, or at least how it had been before. It was a small one by world standards but now those standards didn’t really apply: utu had seen to that. Wellington was one of the largest cities in New Zealand.

  “Are there still lots of people?” Aroha’s voice sounded very small to her.

  “Enough. I don’t know what that magic of yours can do, but you better stick close to me.” He reached under his jacket and pulled out the dayglow green badge that marked him as a Grey Wolf. He grimaced, “I’m not sure how much this thing means now, but hopefully it can’t hurt.”

  Aroha was still a child, despite her gifts, and that scared her. Adults were not supposed to be so uncertain about anything, she knew that. This was not the first time she’d realized they were, but it still made her feel small.

  The terrain changed again, becoming the treacherous broom and gorse, both foreign plants introduced in ignorance to New Zealand. As her face was scratched and legs slapped, Aroha could but wish that the rest of the road was safe enough to travel. And yet it was good to be on the land, not amongst the trappings of humanity just yet. Aroha could feel the pattern of the countryside changing around her; the quiet murmur of the Forest fading to be replaced by the restless hum of the hills and far in the distance the swirling whispers of the city.

  They had come via a twisting path to avoid detection and now were approaching the suburb of Karori to the east of the city. Daniel told her as much as he could as they walked through the silent pine forest. This introduced species had no voice in this land and its silence made Aroha’s nerves stand on end.

  The valley in which Karori nestled was large and it had protected most people from the devastation given to the city, but still things there would not be as they once had been, Daniel warned. The suburb had been a prosperous one, but with the economy wrecked and all the rules abandoned, it had been the target of looting and revenge. Really, he didn’t need to tell Aroha that, she could feel it wafting up from ahead.

  They emerged from the pines into the hills of the dead: one of the city's oldest cemeteries, row upon row of tilting graves and moss covered tombs. Daniel paused a moment, within him that tremendous melancholy. People, Aroha had observed, would go to great lengths to avoid seeing their own mortality. Daniel was close now, so she managed to winkle her hand into his.

  They both walked quietly past. Even though the world outside might be in a mess, this one remained the same. Aroha let her gift reach out, seeking any touch of the lives that lay about her, but there was none, only the sound of the plants growing and the wind running through the treetops.

  “Look,” Daniel paused by a wall strung with brass plaques and the names of loved ones lost. He pointed to the base of the wall, where a bunch of bright pink tulips lay. “No one's been buried here for at least twenty years.”

  She saw what he meant. Even in a time of madness, someone had still ventured out to remember one they had loved. The weight of these unusual emotions was pushing down on Aroha, until her heart was racing and bumping in her chest.

  “Come on,” Daniel said wistfully. “There’s a safe house not far from here.”

  When he said that, he really meant it, the sextons old cottage leaned rather drunkenly against a crumbling wall which marked the outer edge of the cemetery, but there were several armed and uniformed soldiers outside. They welcomed Daniel, if somewhat warily.

  Aroha was feeling more tired than she ever had, and her stomach was churning. Leaning wearily against Daniel, she let herself be guided into the house.

  Inside was packed with sweat and organized chaos. She and Daniel were jostled round, passed from harried sergeant to grumpy captain, until at last they found themselves in front of the CO. Captain Jack Morrow was in no mood for anything out of the ordinary. Aroha could tell that just by looking at him. The irritations and complications of running a small unit in the middle of the biggest crisis the nation had ever been in, amongst civil unrest, food shortages and economic collapse, were all written on his face. Never the less, his expression softened slightly when he saw Aroha watching him warily from under Daniel’s protection.

  But he still snapped, “What the hell is a child doing in here?” His voice froze the air and silenced everyone. Daniel shuffled uncomfortably under such sudden scrutiny.

  “I’m escorting her to Wellington, Sir.”

  That went down even worse than expected, and Daniel was suddenly having to explain who he was, who he was commanded by and what the hell did he think he was doing taking a child into a virtual war zone?

  “There are already a lot of children there,” Daniel replied quietly, “And this one has lost her parents.” It was as close to a lie as Daniel was prepared to go.

  Captain Morrow eyed her sternly. Aroha tried her best to look winsome, and not the least bit of a problem.

  “Bloody chain of command—it’s all gone to hell since Utu. Not even sure if there’s anything left
of your unit.” He sighed, “But we can offer you a place to bunk for the night. You can camp outside with my men and the girl can sleep in my office—Hell, I never get any sleep anyway!”

  Aroha smiled her thanks, which only made the commander spin around and pretend neither of them existed. But at least for that night they had safety and shelter. Aroha nestled down in the camp bed and watched the dim shapes of the commander's book case, desk, and glowing computer screen.

  It felt a long way from home, even though it was only over the hills.

  She hoped Sally was safe in her fern shelter and Nana was not worrying too much about her. She drifted off to sleep, thinking of those tulips and wondering of the person who had placed them there.

  Bakari watched Ella fall into madness. He wasn’t prepared to have magic suddenly present in his life, and the whirling stream of energy she’d called up with her blood was not what he’d expected; there was no peace in that, only raw power. He’d never say it, but he suddenly doubted his goal.

  “What have you done?” he roared at Ronan as Ella disappeared into the surging gold fire.

  Ronan was giving no answers now. Instead, he lunged. Bakari, already unsteady, toppled into the pulse of magic. His last glimpse of reality was into the strangely knowing eyes of Wiggly Joe.

  He did not pass out, even when all points of reference disappeared and around him was only light. He didn’t feel like he was falling, but there was a definite sense of movement about him and there was warmth too, cradling his body, making it impossible to be afraid.

  Would have been good for Ma to see this: how she would have enjoyed this moment.

  As if summoned, the light flexed and bent and there was her face; not scarred and hard like plastic as he’d last seen it, but fresh and supple, bent by only a smile.

  “Boy,” she whispered and the memory stirred inside him. Another warmth, this time from a Tropical sun and the feeling of utter security—he was lying in the sand leaning against Ma’s side. His hands were still clumsy childish hands and his thoughts untroubled by cruelties to come. He listened to the sound of the waves licking the beach and the soft humming of his mother as she lazily plaited his hair about her fingers. There was no father, there never had been, but there was always Ma. He’d thought that would never have changed.

  Bakari gasped and threw the memory clear of him. He was crying, sobbing hard, just like that night in the hospital. The fire had not left much of her to hold; only the inside of one palm remained as it had been. He’d rested his fingers there until she’d died in the early hours of the morning.

  “No! No, stop it,” Bakari yelled, though at who, he couldn’t say. He wanted her back so painfully, wanted to stop existing in this time and go back to then—but he couldn’t, no one could. “It’s so unfair,” he screamed.

  It was then the magic released him. It was so sudden that he sat there, in the shade of the oak overlooking the Penherem Green and finished crying. Though even once he was done, he still knew he’d not truly expressed his grief. It was still lodged in his heart. He now saw Ella was lying nearby, her eyes closed but her breathing that of someone resting in deepest sleep. He touched her arm.

  Bakari looked up and Ronan was there. But there was no pity in the other, only an understanding, and a knowledge that looked strange in his eyes.

  “What are you?” The question leaped from him, even though he knew already that Ronan was not human.

  Those brown eyes flashed, for an instant consuming all the whiteness and leaving nothing but a gleaming expanse like onyx. He smiled wryly. “We are the face behind the mask, the spirit in the tree and a baby’s first dream. We are Fey.”

  “Nicely put,” Bakari said smoothly, “Did you practice that?”

  He shrugged. “It is what we say when we are asked directly.”

  “And you’re what’s missing in our world?”

  Ronan reached down and offered his hand to Bakari to help him up. “You already know the answer to that, my friend, or you wouldn’t have spent all that time since your mother died looking for a way to bring us back. You know how to live, but not how to appreciate living. That is what the Fey are for. Without us you would bury yourself in science.”

  Bakari paused, then took that hand. “I didn’t know what I was looking for, but if you’re already here, then…”

  “Oh no,” Ronan’s lips twisted, “I’m afraid I’m not the answer. When the worlds of magic and man were separated, I chose this one. I’ve been here hundreds of years and I’m afraid to say it’s left me with very few powers.”

  “Then what was that we just went through?” Both men spun about, never having realized that Ella was lying there listening to them. She rolled over in the grass and opened her hand for them to observe that there was no mark on it. She scrambled to her feet. Now Bakari could see she still had the slim silver dagger Ronan had given her. Looking down at it, Ella smiled. “For some reason I don’t want to give it back.”

  “Then don’t,” the Fey replied. “It is a relic of humanity—a bit of magic they learnt from us.”

  “So what about that light?” Bakari tried to keep his voice steady even though he couldn’t help thinking of what he had seen.

  “That too is a relic, part of the old earth magic that is not Fey. Very little remains, and even fewer can use it.” Ronan was eyeing Ella strangely.

  Bakari shook his head, it was full of so many buzzing questions, but the ones at the forefront were concerned with survival; old instincts remained. “So what does this have to do with Infinity Rose? Why would they be after Ella, of all people?”

  She shrank back at her name.

  “Yes,” Ronan said, his attention not wavering from her, “A good question—there’s obviously something about you. I can see it and maybe that’s why...”

  “There’s nothing about me,” Ella snapped, her skin flushing scarlet. “I’m nothing—a has-been of a criminal just like most of the village.”

  “And your blood triggering the earth magic, was that nothing, too?”

  Ella’s eyes were wide and frightened, like a cornered cat. Bakari could almost see her flattened ears and stiff fur. With a hiss of frustration, she threw the silver dagger down so its blade was buried in the earth, vibrating at Ronan’s feet. He didn’t move and in that instant the tension sang between them.

  God, they were going to thump each other in a minute. Bakari took a step forward.

  Ella broke first. “Just keep the hell away from me,” she snarled before running off across the Green, moving surprisingly fast for such a little person.

  Ronan stood watching her for a moment.

  “I hope you’ve got some answers,” Bakari said, almost feeling sorry for the Fey.

  “No more than anyone else, I’m afraid.”

  “But Hamish’s murder, the contract out on Mouse—do you think there’s a connection?”

  “Maybe,” Ronan said, “But how the Mask and I fit in… “

  Ronan looked defeated, drained somehow of the vigor that had been his trademark.

  “You know—I think there is a place where there might be some answers. How about we check out my world?”

  “The Line? I’m not going to have my head carved up, my friend.”

  This guy might have been around for centuries, but in some things he was still naïve. Bakari chuckled. “So you’ve never rode shotgun, then?”

  12

  Paths

  The Harbor of Tara. Aroha felt a shiver pass through her body, though it was one of wonder rather than one of fear. Her whole life she’d heard people talking about ‘Welly’ over the hill, and yet Nana had never allowed her to come here. It was the city, not like any of the big ones over the water, like London or New York, but still quite a deal to a young girl from the countryside.

  Daniel had guided her through the fortified homes of Karori and Kelburn, where once rich suburban dwellers had now barricaded themselves in against chaos. They passed hastily welded metal fences and garage doors broke
n off their rails. The electricity supply held on, so the façade of survival was there, but everyone was still afraid.

  They’d come to this hilltop to look down on what awaited them. The harbor was a graceful curl, almost closed on itself, but not quite—a promise not quite fulfilled, or one already broken.

  “Do you really want to do this?” Daniel’s hand dropped onto her shoulder.

  Aroha wasn’t used to anyone talking to her like that, like an adult who had a choice. “I don’t want to—but I guess I have to.”

  “Any idea where you need to get to in the city? There’s a lot to it, you know.”

  Aroha closed her eyes, trying to shut out the noise and confusion of the real world, trying to reach out across the valleys to where the Folk waited in silent rows, faces turned to her. Master of water and earth.

  Aroha’s mouth went dry. She’d seen a great head and eyes like fire. It was too much, they asked too much for their help; she’d never imagined that it would be like this. With a whimper, she turned and clung onto Daniel.

  “Aroha,” he dropped down to her level. “Why are you doing this? Was it because of me?”

  He’d suspected, knowing that the bot could not have really exploded like that. Their enemy was not known for inefficiencies.

  “I couldn’t let you die,” Aroha sniffled, “It’s OK…”

  Daniel was silent, he knew life was a precious gift, but Aroha could still feel the waves of guilt coming off him. He sighed, “Where do we go, then?”

  In her mind a smooth-sloped green hill rose out of the sea. She told Daniel and he nodded. “I know where that is.” He took her hand and they descended into the city.

  They went through the canyons of the deserted university, where the taste of student energies still lingered. Aroha looked nervously up at the seeming acres of empty windows in the tall buildings, somehow expecting to catch a moving figure or a pale face, but there was nothing except the wind.