Lingering Haze (The Elusive Strain Book 1)

by James Berardinelli

  “Is that what your birth-world is called? Earth? No, I come from Urs, a small island-nation not unlike this one in climate and magical selectivity. A loremaster would be able to explain things better, but my understanding is that the planes of existence are constantly shifting and a Summoning draws from the closest one at the time when it happens. When there are clusters of Summonings, newcomers may arrive from the same world - there are historical records of that happening.

  “Place of origin matters less than how quickly a Summoner acclimates. As you’ve experienced, the process is traumatic. Over the years, our ranks have thinned because some would-be Summoners haven’t done well with the transition and have therefore been unable to call a replacement. Most are fine but if one out of ten goes insane or dies unexpectedly, there are long-term implications. The situation is made worse because there are so few natural-born Summoners. Most of those with a latent magical talent don’t discover their abilities or, if they do, they avoid having them officially acknowledged.”

  “How many of you are there?”

  “Including you, there are eight recognized Summoners. No one has a count of wild wizards since many do their best to avoid detection for fear of being ‘conscripted.’ Loremaster Lawrence, the Summoner who brought you here, believed there were around a dozen of them. He devoted the last years of his life to locating them and pleading with them to be accepted into our fraternity. He had only one success.”

  “Eight doesn’t sound like a good number to stand against an army of reavers and daemons.”

  Bergeron didn’t sugar-coat his response. “It’s pathetic and inadequate and speaks to our failure over the years. I can offer no excuse for the position we find ourselves in. After all, it’s supposedly our duty to use magic responsibly and safeguard this world from its abuse and side-effects. We have always suspected this day would come but complacency allowed us to believe it would be in the far future, perhaps not even in our lifetimes, and certainly not something to worry about at the moment. How quickly the future has arrived.” He shook his head, a gesture of regret. Theatrical or genuine? I couldn’t decide. Although Bergeron seemed to be opening up to me, I wasn’t convinced of his sincerity. Something about him didn’t inspire trust. Respect, yes, but not trust.

  “What are we going to do?”

  “First, we have to convince the citizens of West Fork to abandon their town and flee eastward. That won’t be easy. Not only are people reluctant to leave behind their land and property but The Western Highway is dangerous even for large groups of travelers. Once, the High King in Erenton kept the road patrolled but that was before in-fighting among his heirs fractured the kingdom into a half-dozen competing fiefdoms, all of which are more concerned about skirmishing with their neighbors than maintaining trade with the sparsely populated west.

  “After evacuating West Fork, our next step will be to convene a Conference of Summoners, something that hasn’t been done in several generations. We need to gather all of the Summoners - and as many of the wild wizards as possible - into one place to plan for the oncoming storm. I fear this is something that should have been done years ago but we’ll have to make the best out of a bad situation. With Lawrence gone, we’ll have to rely on Loremaster Alexander to lead us. He’s a good man - pragmatic and wise - but not as widely venerated as Lawrence was.”

  “What about Aeris?” In the grand scheme of things, it was a small place, hardly worth mentioning when the fate of hundreds of thousands lay in the balance, but my fondness for the small hamlet was genuine. Those people had welcomed me and given me a temporary home in a foreign land.

  “Messengers will be sent to all the outlying villages including Aeris and the settlements in The Far Hills. But I warn you, Janelle, there’s a possibility that Aeris has already suffered the same fate as NewTown. And even if it still stands today, it may have been razed by the time the messengers reach there. Its isolation won’t protect it from an attack, especially since the reavers have tried once and failed. They’ll return in greater numbers.”

  “I care about those people.”

  “I know you do. I cared about the family that took me in when I arrived. But you’ll learn, as I did, that duty must override affection. It’s a harsh truth but a truth nonetheless.”

  “When you arrived here, were your memories intact?” It was time to start investigating the things that were impeding my abilities.

  “Mostly. Time blurs all things, of course. This many years later, I remember my old life like a dream, but the Summoning didn’t damage my memories. I assume it’s different for you?”

  I nodded. “My life before I came here…it’s a jumble, a puzzle with many missing pieces. I remember some of the strangest things - books I’ve read, movies I’ve seen, historical trivia - but many of the important events in my life are blanks. And individual memories return at random. Sometimes they come to me at night, sometimes when I’m on the road.”

  “It’s not uncommon but, taking into consideration your headaches and the block your mind created to protect you from overusing your magic, there’s something unusual at work here. Have you noticed anything else odd?”

  “Since I started using magic, my sense of smell is stronger.”

  “Those who use magic often gain an enhancement to one sense or another. In my case, it’s hearing. I’ve discovered that it’s more often a nuisance than an asset but I doubt that’s related to any unique condition you may be experiencing.”

  I hesitated. Should I tell him about the strange figure or figures that haunted my past? I didn’t trust Bergeron, at least not fully. There was something about him that inspired unease. But I had come to understand my powers and limitations, and to alleviate the condition causing my headaches. At some point, I was going to have to take a leap of faith, or what was the point of being here?

  So I told him everything. The man who had shadowed me on the night of my Summoning. The lurker across the street from my house. The strange person who had approached me at Camp Harmony. The doctor who had brought me back to life as a baby.

  My account disturbed Bergeron. I could see it by the way his face clouded and his brow furrowed. “Were these all the same person?” He asked.

  “Yes. No. Maybe.” The truth was that I didn’t know. The memories weren’t crystal clear and, in all but one case, the face (or faces) had been too far away to discern.

  “I don’t like the sound of this. We need to discuss it with Loremaster Alexander. He may know what this portends but it appears likely that someone or something attempted to make contact with you prior to your Summoning. I’ve never heard of such a thing before. I didn’t think it was possible.”

  “Someone or something from here? Visiting my world?” The possibility was startling, as were the implications. Could I get back home? If things went bad here, was there a way back? I’ll admit it wasn’t the most admirable thought but it was the first thing that came to mind.

  “I can’t think of another explanation. The lore of the Summoning makes it clear that persons of power can be pulled across the plane to this world via the ritual. It stands to reason that it may be possible to travel in reverse. Perhaps the gate swings in both directions. Alexander will know more. If anyone has researched this sort of thing, it’s him.

  “I can anticipate your next question, Janelle,” he said with a rueful smile. “In your situation, it would be mine as well. Alas, I’ve been here far too long for it to be relevant. I don’t know if this means you can return to your old world. But consider this: if it was possible, would you want to?”

  Would you want to? Another question I didn’t know the answer to. Did I have a life worth going back to? My memories were too fragmentary for me to decide, although the isolated one from the final night didn’t offer cause for optimism. But had I come from a bad situation to a doomed world?

  “I have other things to worry about now.” It was a fair answer. I’d make the decision if and when it became available to me. That wasn’t now. “What
about the headaches?”

  “I’ll need to look into your mind again. Last time, I sensed reluctance on your part. This incursion would be even more…intense.”

  The last thing I wanted was once again to be pinned down by his glare, to feel his mind pushing its way into mine. I suspected he had tried to be gentle last time but the sensation had still been profoundly unpleasant. Enduring something more “intense”…I didn’t know if I could manage that.

  “You’re asking a lot.”

  “I’m asking nothing,” he responded, his tone matter-of-fact. “I would gain nothing from this; it would be to address your problem. It’s your decision. If you determine the touch of mind-to-mind is too intimate, I won’t do it. I’m not going to force you, Janelle. That isn’t the way of Summoners.”

  His words were reasonable but we both knew I didn’t really have a choice, at least not if I wanted to access the full spectrum of my powers. Becoming disabled after a magical act might be feasible in a peaceful world but not in one where I might be called upon repeatedly in battle. I had to allow him to do this even if it unnerved and nauseated me.

  “Do it,” I muttered through clenched teeth.

  He rose from his seat and walked around the table to stand over me. “Try not to resist. I know it’s unnatural but I won’t do anything to hurt you. If you push back, however, I might have to apply more pressure than either of us would prefer. Relax your mind.”

  He placed an index finger under my chin to tilt my head up so I was looking directly into his eyes. I absently noted how warm his flesh was - warm and soft, that of a man who had never done any labor with his hands. Not at all like Samell’s. Then, as those dark eyes bored into me, I became lost. I could feel the pressure, pushing past my defenses and surging into the depths of my thoughts and memories. I concentrated on remaining calm and pliant, allowing the intruder to accomplish what he needed to do to fix whatever was defective. I was successful until his efforts triggered the very thing he was supposed to be remedying.

  As soon as I felt the first stirrings of a headache - the dull throbbing beginning deep in my brain - I reacted with a vehemence that hurled Bergeron from my mind. He staggered and would have fallen if he hadn’t grabbed the table for support. I exhaled deeply and blinked several times in rapid succession.

  “I’m sorry,” I managed. “I started to feel a headache.”

  “Quite understandable.” Bergeron’s voice was unsteady. “I’m not sure what to say or how to proceed.”

  “Then you didn’t fix it?” My voice was thick with disappointment. Had I undergone that ordeal for no purpose?

  “I’ll admit that most of my knowledge of the mind’s workings comes from books. It’s been generations since I explored a real person but your pathways are like none I’ve encountered or read about. It’s almost as if they have been intentionally manipulated to limit your magical abilities. The headaches are burned into your brain; I don’t think they can be removed without doing serious damage. And your reaction when I accidentally triggered a headache…that kind of mental power could be a terrifying weapon if you could learn to control it. It’s tied into your magic but somehow separate.”

  “My magic is gone again.” My awareness of it had vanished the moment I expelled Bergeron from my mind. I groped for it to find only a vacuum.

  “Not surprising. I suspect I triggered the same thing the soul-ripper did, although thankfully with less devastating results. If necessary, I can reset it the way I did earlier but it would be better if we could explore finding a way for you to do it. It’s not good for you to have to rely on another Summoner.”

  We spent the remainder of the night wrestling with this problem. Bergeron did something with his magic to wipe away our weariness and keep us as alert as if we had experienced a full night’s rest. “It’s a trick,” he explained. “Don’t rely on it too much. Used sparingly, it replaces sleep. Overused, it will enflame the brain and can lead to insanity. Even Summoners need sleep - we just don’t need as much of it as other people.”

  Despite persisting past the point of frustration, I couldn’t get the hang of what he wanted me to do. “Look into your mind,” he kept saying but no matter how I tried to contort my brain, I couldn’t reach the “deeper plane of consciousness” where he wanted me to go. Too bad I didn’t know transcendental meditation. We gave up around dawn without having made discernible progress.

  “You’re going to have to keep trying. This is something you need to do on your own. Maybe there’s a trick to it. I don’t know. Now, before I restore your magic, there’s something else we have to discuss. What do you know about Summoning?”

  “Only what Backus told me. When a Summoner is dying, he casts a massive spell that pulls across someone from another plane. The spell kills the Summoner. Backus called Summoning ‘the last and greatest act of any practitioner of magic.’”

  “A crude and not entirely accurate description. Summoning is more of a ritual than a spell, although the terms are largely interchangeable. It’s an act that causes power to cascade through the Summoner, building to intense levels and transforming all available emotion into magic. The resulting maelstrom pulls another living being across the barrier between planes in what we call ‘the lodestone effect’. The forces involved devastate the Summoner, leaving behind an emotionally bereft and physically decimated husk. I have never heard of anyone surviving a Summoning and, if it could be done, I don’t think anyone would want to. But the Summoner doesn’t have to be dying to invoke the ritual. It can be done at any time although only suicidal Summoners would do it before they feel the end approaching.”

  “How do you learn it? Is there a book? Backus said that only after I learn the spell will I truly be a Summoner.”

  Bergeron smiled one of his cold smiles. “It’s more complicated than that but he’s correct that one of the salient differences between wild wizards and Summoners is our understanding of the ritual. It’s not learned from a book or scroll. To the best of my knowledge, it hasn’t been written down or, if it once was, the text has long since been lost. The capability to Summon is implanted - given directly from one Summoner to another through a mind-to-mind connection.”

  I knew what was coming next…

  “If you’ll permit me, I’ll undo the block and place knowledge of the Summoning ritual in your mind.”

  “You want to go back in again?”

  “There’s no other way.”

  “How do you know I won’t throw you out?”

  “I don’t. In fact, I think there may be a danger to me. If I push too hard in the wrong spot, you could rip open a corridor to my mind to render me a gibbering idiot. But I’m willing to chance it because the world needs you for the coming struggle.”

  When he put it like that, how could I refuse?

  Things went smoother this time. Maybe it had something to do with knowing what to expect or perhaps my mind was becoming receptive to his. Whatever the case, the discomfort wasn’t as acute and the intrusion wasn’t as intimate. It went quickly enough that, when he withdrew, I was surprised. I blinked once to break his gaze and was immediately aware that my magical abilities had returned. And there was something else, something buried deep, an itch I couldn’t quite scratch.

  “You’ll get used to it. It feels odd at first but, over time, your mind will assimilate it.”

  “How do I access it?”

  “Concentrate on it. At least that’s what I plan to do when the time comes. The only ones who can say for sure are dead but since there are no records of failed Summonings, it can’t be that difficult. Once triggered, it probably runs by itself. There’s a caution in that - if you start the process, you can’t stop it.

  “Now, return to your companions and sleep a little. Your mind is bruised after all the incursions. When you’re done resting, you can find me here and we’ll start planning our war.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six: Hobson’s Choice

  It was frightening to be awakened in the middle of the
night by an unfamiliar noise. I lay in my bed, hyperaware of my surroundings, my eyes open staring into the darkness and my heart beating at twice its normal rate.

  It was a hot August night and our air conditioning wasn’t working. It had been so warm inside that, before going to bed, I had opened my windows wide. The sound had come from somewhere outside. I remained immobile, breathing shallowly under the thin layer of sweat-drenched sheets.

  Then I heard it again - a scrabbling against the side of the house like what one might expect from a rat trying to climb the siding. I wondered if my sister and parents could hear it but I doubted that - their windows were on the front of the house while mine was on the back. Whatever was out there was protected from being seen from the street.

  By the light of day, this might not be so terrifying but, in the pitch black while shaking off the effects of a dream, I was more scared than I could remember being.

  “Janelle.” It was clear, precise, and unmistakable. A raspy voice had whispered my name. When I didn’t respond, it was repeated, this time louder and more demanding. Whoever was speaking didn’t like being ignored.

  “Come downstairs. I have something for you.”

  I resisted the urge to burrow under the sheets.

  “I know you’re awake. I know many things about you. Don’t make me come inside. You wouldn’t like that. You wouldn’t like another fire, would you?”

  If there was one threat to spur me into action, that was it. I slipped out of bed, put on a cotton robe to cover my near-nakedness, and padded on bare feet over to the window. Looking out was pointless. The unlit backyard was a Stygian crypt.

  “Come down here. Don’t wake anyone.” The voice was louder, coming from directly under my window. I squinted but it was useless. Even dark-adapted eyes needed some light and there was none out there. So I did the only thing I could think of - I crept through the upstairs hallway, avoiding the board that creaked, and descended the stairs. I turned the deadbolt lock in the back door slowly to muffle the unnaturally loud click it made then flipped on the outside light before exiting.