Waking Magic: The Revelations of Oriceran (The Leira Chronicles Book 1)

by Martha Carr

  “Remember what I told you about the Atlantean, Rhazdon?

  “The one who has some follower that might still be alive. Yeah, I remember. Hard to forget a maniacal six-hundred-year-old.”

  The light turned green and Leira turned, heading for the bowling alley. The tall pink and orange letters, Highland Lanes was visible in the distance.

  “Rhazdon was no ordinary being, even by Oriceran standards,” said Correk. “He matched his arrogance and need to be something with an innate talent for magic. He was considered gifted from the very start.”

  “Probably attributed that to his Atlantean blood.”

  “He attributed everything to that. The stories that are told usually leave out that he was only half Atlantean, from Earth, because after a while Rhazdon forgot. He researched the Atlanteans thoroughly, retracing their steps from thousands of years ago, resurrecting their magic. Dark magic.”

  “How dark are we talking? Gargamel with some cute smurfs or did he go all Lord Voldemort and build a following?”

  “He took what he learned and went from town to town, recruiting other lost souls from all the different kingdoms and lands of Oriceran, building his own following.”

  “You’d have thought that someone from such an aristocratic background wouldn’t like mingling with just anybody.”

  “He was after purity of thought,” said Correk. “In the end, what bothered him wasn’t what you were made from but how you thought, how you believed.”

  “Fuck, that’s deep,” she said. She pulled into the parking lot and found a space right by the door.

  “Pull around to the back of the building,” Correk said, looking around. He saw Leira hesitate. “Humor me,” he said.

  She started the car and gently eased out of the space, turning down the strip of narrow blacktop alongside the long building.

  “Park over near the back door.”

  “You’re anticipating trouble at bowling? Low score or magical shootout?” she said. She parked the car and turned off the engine.

  “You may be right and we’re being followed by a clever thief. But if someone is trying to mimic Rhazdon, they are not to be taken lightly. If they have managed to gain even a tenth of his power, then darkness approaches. At his height, he had thousands of followers and had built his own kingdom, complete with a well-fortified castle. From there, he began his revenge, attempting to destroy those who he saw as responsible for the end of the Atlanteans.”

  “So, basically everyone else.”

  “Yes, and eventually we were at war. I believe here on Earth you would call it a world war. So many died enforcing the treaty, pushing back Rhazdon’s followers.”

  “Like what it took thousands of years ago to just get the treaty,” said Leira.

  “Almost.”

  “Didn’t all of the other kingdoms combined outnumber his followers? And it sounds like they were chosen for their weakness of mind and heart. Not exactly the recruitment poster for a strong army.”

  “We should go in,” said Correk. “Your friends will be wondering where you are. There will be plenty of time on the road trip to tell you the rest of the story.”

  They got out of the car and were headed for the door when Leira grabbed Correk’s arm, pulling him back a step.

  “The dark magic. It’s that powerful?” she asked in a hushed tone. “He was able to threaten the very existence of everyone else on Oriceran by using the dark magic.”

  Correk nodded his head solemnly and his expression was grave. “Every bloodline, every kingdom felt the losses. For some, their name was ended for all time. He would tell captured soldiers, and women and children to follow his path or die. Most chose death.”

  “Where is this story going?” she asked.

  “It took all the kingdoms of Oriceran working together to defeat Rhazdon. He died in the final battle, burned alive in his own tower. Those who survived were sentenced to Trevilsom Prison. All the evidence of his existence, every relic, every artifact, every book of spells was hidden away in a vault that is guarded at all times by very vigilant gnomes.”

  “But…” Leira sensed this was all adding up to a lot more trouble. It wasn’t just about finding Bill Somers anymore. The necklace was just as important.

  “But I came across a Rhazdon artifact in Oriceran. That shouldn’t be possible. It means some of his magic is still out there in the world.”

  “And there’s no way of knowing how much or what kind,” said Leira.

  “Precisely. And a willen traded a trinket for a riddle whose only answer is that there’s someone new who could be picking up where Rhazdon left off.”

  “A willen,” said Leira.

  “A giant silver talking rat. Unlike Earth, Oriceran is full of different creatures with varying amounts of intelligence and we all exist together.”

  “Nice dig at us ordinary humans,” Leira said, pulling open the large door.

  “You have only one intelligent species that is native to Earth and regularly shoot each other. Finding out who did it is a large part of your job description.”

  “Unless you come up with anything concrete that says we shouldn’t head to Chicago then we’re out of here at first light, no arguments,” she said. “If you don’t agree, you don’t have to come.” She strode in to the bowling alley without looking back. Her mind was made up and she would leave it to Correk to decide for himself if he was on board.

  I didn’t ask him to come, she thought.

  “I realize I was not part of your plan,” Correk said, catching up with her. “But we need to work together to ensure the right outcome.”

  “The one where we get the killer and the necklace back and everyone is still in one piece,” Leira replied. “Then you tell me the truth about everything from now on and we’ll work the case together. That’s not a request.”

  “Leira! You brought Bert! Perfect,” Craig, yelled waving from the top of the seventh lane. “Get your shoes, we’re just about to start.”

  Leira waved back and pointed Correk toward the shoe counter.

  “You totally got that smurf reference. You’ve been spending way too much time watching us so-called common humans.”

  “Only for cultural context,” he replied tersely, making sure his hat was still pulled down far enough.

  “I don’t judge. Everyone needs a little Papa Smurf sometimes,” she said, trying to lighten the mood. “The end of this story is that someone is trying to rally the thought police again and this time may be traveling over to Earth, too.”

  “That last part is only a feeling. I have no proof. But we use feelings to guide magic and take them very seriously. I think the saying on Earth is, we will have to watch our back.”

  “Oh, you’ve been watching cop shows too. Respect,” Leira smiled, pulling off her blue and orange Merrell running shoes. “Size eight,” she said to the girl behind the shoe counter. “He’ll try a twelve.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  “Okay, Bert, you’re up!” said Mike, taking a large sip of his beer. “Perfect sport. Roll a ball, drink a beer. Roll a ball, eat some fries. At the end of it all you might even get a trophy.”

  Correk leaned in and whispered to Leira, “I blame you for this Bert thing.”

  “It’s a beloved Muppet,” said Leira. “Go, take your turn. You think you got this?”

  “Get the heavy ball down the middle of the lane and hit the pins at the end.”

  “Without using magic or stepping over that painted yellow line.”

  “I’m not useless without magic just like you’re hopefully not useless without your coffee machines and smartphones,” Correk retorted. He looked down at the red, black and white shoes on his feet. “These things are ridiculous.”

  “And have been worn by hundreds of strangers, some with questionable hygiene,” said Leira. “You don’t want to know.” She laughed when he grimaced. “That would be like getting a good look at who used the restroom stall before you and had their naked ass right where you’re a
bout to put your naked ass. You don’t even exchange a nod. Better to look away.”

  “Go get ’em, honey!” yelled Estelle. “Beat those fuckers! Sorry, yes, I know,” she said, waving at the people in the official Highland Lanes shirts. “No more swearing. Won’t happen again,” she promised, making an X over her heart.

  “That’s got to be getting close to a hundred times just this week,” said Scott, laughing.

  Correk glanced back at Leira who gave him a thumbs up. Leira was anxious to get on the road and work on the case but if she had to be in a bowling tournament, she wanted to win.

  Correk picked up a blue ball and tested the weight in his hands. Too light, he thought, putting it back. He tried a black bowling ball, fitting his fingers in the holes like he’d seen the other players doing and held it up to his chest. Still too light.

  He put his hand on each ball, feeling their weight, connecting with the energy of the ball.

  “This one,” he said, picking up the gold ball.

  “My man is going for the King Kong of balls,” said Paul, smiling. “I like it! Confidence! You hear that E-Bowlas? We got this!”

  Correk stepped up a few feet from the yellow line and held the ball up against his chest. He stood there for a moment, calculating the friction of the ball against the wood in the lane, combined with the pitch of the floor and the distance to the pins. He took a deep satisfied breath and strode up to the line, swinging the ball back, letting its weight carry it forward, and releasing mid-stride, right at the line.

  The ball was already rolling as it hit the ground and swerved momentarily to the right.

  “Ooooooooh.” An anxious murmur rose from the crowd behind him.

  Just as the ball neared the gutter, still going at a fast clip, it curved back to the center of the lane, barreling down the middle, smashing into the center pin, toppling everything around it.

  “You got a strike!” Leira yelled, forgetting everything else for just a moment. “You did it!” she exclaimed, jumping to her feet.

  Mike pumped his fist in the air and Estelle pounded Correk’s back when he came back to take his seat. “Good job, Bert! Your next beer is on me,” she said.

  “Beer’s free to tournament players tonight, Estelle,” said Janice.

  “Which she knows,” added Mitzi with a smile.

  “Well, then I’ll pour it for you,” said Estelle. “Keep throwing like that and I may even buy you a beer back at my place.”

  “Now, that’s saying something!” said Scott.

  “Leira, we like your new friend,” Craig said, holding out his fist to Correk who stared at the fist, confused. Leira leaned over and quickly fist bumped Craig.

  “You have a few things left to learn about us,” Leira said to him when he sat down next to her. “That was a perfect roll. No magic, right? I want to win but not by cheating.”

  “Simple mathematics and a strong arm. No magic,” he replied. “Not necessary. It’s an interesting pastime but does not require magic. Now Lutea ball, that’s a game that requires magic if you hope to win. Dragons have been known to get involved in the longer matches and incinerate your roffle.”

  “You can tell me on the long ride to Chicago tomorrow what a roffle is,” said Leira. “Big believer in singleness of purpose and right now, we have a match to win. I’m up!”

  Leira grabbed a black bowling ball and went up and stood at the line. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed a young man with wavy brown hair from the other team smiling at her in a way she wasn’t used to.

  She did a double take to see if he was trying to throw her off her game.

  “Not going to work,” she yelled to him. “I am focused and ready to roll.”

  The man smiled harder, showing even, white teeth and Leira felt her face flush. She wasn’t used to men taking that much notice of her. Her hard edges were good at sending out a stay the fuck away signal.

  What the hell is happening to me, she wondered, shaking her head to clear out any other stray thoughts. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, stepping forward and swinging the ball, letting it go, willing it to stay true.

  The tips of her fingers started to glow as she watched the ball take a similar path as Correk’s roll. She quickly shoved her hands in her pockets and her heart beat faster in her chest.

  The ball seemed to respond to her sudden panic and veered off course at the last second, hitting the pins to the right of center.

  Leira plastered a blank look on her face before she turned around to face everyone. They were used to her dead fish look.

  “You can still get a spare, honey,” Estelle encouraged. “We can use one of those too.”

  Leira didn’t look up to see if Correk had noticed what just happened. She went over to the balls and slowly pulled one hand out of her pocket, looking down to see if the fingertips were still glowing. Her hand was shaking slightly but back to normal. She felt her chest lighten as she pulled out her other hand and looked down. No glow.

  Stay calm, Leira.

  She stepped back up to the line and noticed the young man was still there but he was no longer smiling. Instead, he was looking at her as if he was confused.

  She looked away, knowing he must have seen it too, and focused on the pins.

  Look where you want the ball to go, she thought, and threw the ball down the lane.

  “Singleness of purpose,” she whispered. She wished her grandmother was there. My mother, she thought, feeling a pang of guilt that she hadn’t done more to get her out yet.

  The ball rolled neatly down the left side of the lane, striking the rest of the pins, earning her the spare. Cheers went up behind her. She stood there for a moment, centering herself before she went back. This feelings thing is going to get me in trouble.

  She glanced at the other team but the young man was gone. Scared him off, she thought.

  “Singleness of purpose,” she said again, hardening her resolve. “First, we get the killer, then we get my mother out.”

  From across the room, the young man who had seen Leira performing magic was making his way through the crowd to the restrooms at the back. He was hurrying, going as fast as he could to find his friend Ernie, still in one of the two stalls.

  “Ernie, Ernie, dude, you have to come out here,” he said, banging on the stall door.

  “Dude, not cool!” Ernie yelled. “Give me a second. The place isn’t on fire, is it, Peter? It’s not, right?”

  Peter leaned down to make sure the other stall was empty. “Light Elves are here,” he whispered urgently.

  “What?” Ernie asked.

  He came barreling out of the stall, still zipping his pants, headed for the door. A strip of his belly showed between his black pants and the red E-bowla shirt. The tie under his bowling shirt was crooked. The fluorescent lights gleamed off of his smooth, bald head.

  Ernie grabbed Peter by the arm, dragging him out of the bathroom, and out the front door of the bowling alley. They stood in the parking lot in matching red, black and white bowling shoes. They both looked around to make sure no one was close.

  “How can you be sure you saw a Light Elf? Was it the ears?” Ernie asked. “This is Austin. That could be like a man bun and somebody’s idea of cool.”

  “I saw it. I saw her hands start to glow. Glow, Ernie! We have to tell someone.”

  “You sure we want to do that? You know what happens if we tell the Order. This gets moved up the chain of command, they do an investigation and if it’s true…” He drew a line across his throat with his finger. “Order don’t play.”

  “What if they find out we knew? If they can connect us to her at all and we didn’t say anything…” Peter whined.

  “Good point. Did you get her name?”

  “No, but she’s the cute one on the Pin Pushers team.”

  “The one with the short dark hair. Yeah, noticed her too.”

  “Right? I was thinking about asking her out,” Peter said.

  “Bad idea for so many
reasons,” Ernie replied, shaking his head.

  “No kidding, asshole. She’s some kind of Light Elf that can’t control herself and we’re both wizards.”

  “Too bad, too. You would have had a lot in common. Well, at least a whole other world.”

  “Yeah, I got that,” said Peter, annoyed. “You go call it in and I’ll see if I can scope out her name. See if she’s the only Light Elf on the team or not.”

  “I knew there was a reason they were wiping the floor with us! Bunch of cheaters,” Ernie grumbled.

  “That’s not our biggest problem right now. Do us both a favor and leave that out of the phone call to the Order. Stick to the facts, Ernie. I can trust you, right?”

  The door swung open and the girl from behind the shoe counter leaned out. “You guys will need to return those shoes before you leave. You’re not supposed to be outside with them on.”

  “Because a thousand sweaty feet is no problem but some sidewalk dust will ruin the fine Corinthian leather,” Ernie retorted, gesturing with his hands and doing a little dance, turning in a circle.

  “Douchebags,” the girl said, and went back inside, letting the door swing shut.

  “Way to keep a low profile for us, Ernie,” Peter snapped, pulling open the door. “Make the phone call and keep it short and sweet.”

  “That was a little douchie of me, wasn’t it? She was kind of cute.”

  “Oh my God, stay on point, Ernie or by the time this is over, we’ll be in Trevilsom.”

  “How? The Order can’t send us back from here.”

  “They have their ways.”

  Peter ran back inside as Ernie pulled out his phone. He stripped off the bowling shirt, straightening his tie. He wanted to look his best for his first official report.

  He called the number he had memorized when he was inducted into the Order of the Silver Griffins. He had never had the chance to use it before and at first his voice came out in a squeak. He cleared his throat and started again.

  “Hello? This is Silver Griffin two hundred and one. There’s been a sighting in Austin. Magic was being used in the open. We believe it’s a…”

  “Hold please,” the voice on the other end cut him off.