by Philip Blood
He straightened up out of his crouch, and said, “Wow, you must be Undiscovered, or I should say, recently Discovered, since you have the Glyph. Were you a Hidden Soul, or are you,” and here he paused and then half whispered, “a Bastard?”
Before I could answer he held up both hands, palms out and tilted his chin back as he said, “Not that I’m here to judge you, I mean, it wouldn’t be your fault you were a Bastard.”
I didn’t know what to say in response.
Hydan took a step closer and added, “Maybe I could help you out by showing you the ropes. Hey, we can even do each other a favor. Since this is my first time here, maybe you could show me around while I help you discover what tier you are, among other things. It would be fun!”
Fun, he said? So far none of this had been anything but confusing, painful and dangerous. “I would like some help understanding all this; in fact, I was just about to head over to a friend’s house who said she could help me.”
In the dim light of the moon, I noticed Hydan’s eyebrows rise slightly. “What’s her name? She one of us?”
“I would say she is part of this,” I answered, thinking of her voice out of the night a few moments ago, but I remembered Pox had cautioned me about saying names, so I kept that to myself. “She told me something about Firsts and Seconds, does that make sense?”
His head nodded up and down slightly even before his words. “Indeed, so she was talking about tiers, definitely one of us. What did she tell you already?” Hydan asked.
I noticed a definite change in his tone; he was trying to sound mildly interested, however, his very nonchalance made me think he was far more interested in finding out more about Fiona than he was trying to let on.
“She warned me that Stewart Hentan was a Second, and ...”
He interrupted me. “Stewart Hentan! Is HE the one after you?”
I nodded.
“No wonder you aren’t saying your name! This is bad news. Stewart is powerful. He’s been around a long time and he’s deadly. They say he has killed more of us in the Ascension Quest than anyone I’ve ever heard of; he’s even taken out several Seconds! I’ve never met him, thank my First, but he’s infamous! You say he tried to kill you and, and… you escaped?” There was definitely disbelief in his voice.
“Yes, he killed over twenty people and I was the only one to escape alive,” I said, getting a quick flashback of the people dying around me by machinegun fire.
“Mundanes? Bah, Stewart wouldn’t care a Dragon’s ass about them, but the fact that you escaped, well that is interesting news. How did you possibly get away from a Second who was bent on killing you? Not to mention, one who is a particularly good hunter.”
“I saw a way to go and went, and then I just ran.” While he contemplated my answer I began to take notice of the black shapes of the Stonehenge sentinel stones behind Hydan and remembered him walking out of one with a blue glow around him. “Would you mind if we got out of here? I don’t want to get caught here and have to grapple with a lot of questions I can’t answer if other people appear.”
I distinctly saw him cock his head to the side and got the impression he was amused! “Sure, if you want. But don’t worry about the lower tiers... they see what we want them to see. Don’t worry, I’ll teach you. Let’s find a town and see if we can’t sample some of the local paint thinner. I need a drink!”
From out of the dark a strange wailing howl cut through the normal nocturnal sounds on the moors.
“What in the dark pits of hell was that?” I asked.
Hydan nodded, “Indeed, I think they ARE from the dark pits.”
We heard a second howl, and this wail had the hint of a wolf in it, yet it was far more sinister sounding, more intelligent, more emotional. I had the distinct impression of an almost tangible hunger. Then there was the fact that there were no wolves in England.
Hydan’s smile disappeared. “Those could be gehdrin, though on Earth, if my research serves me, I believe they are called hairwolves. I’ll try to get us free, but they can track The Power, come on!”
“Hairwolves? Do you mean werewolves?”
“Oh, yeah,” he agreed.
“Those are Hollywood creations!” I complained, but followed the swiftly departing Hydan.
Hydan glanced back at me. “I don’t know who this Holly Wood person is, but legend has it the Dark One created them to hunt down his enemies. There are reasons none of The Power go to Sheol anymore! Anyone of 4th Tier or higher is hunted down by his creatures and slain. It's rather embarrassing.”
“Sheol, where is that?” I demanded.
“It's one of the ten Worlds, the only one banned from all mages. I don’t recommend it as a vacation spot.”
I let that go by without comment, now I figured that this Hydan had a few missing lug nuts in the old brain pan.
Another howl came from off to our left.
“Burn me! I think they flanked us. They must have already gotten a taste. I tried to mask us, but they are damn hard to fool,” Hydan complained, coming to a stop. “We’ll have to fight them off.”
I was getting scared. “How bad are these things?”
I think my question scared Hydan more than the werewolves.
He grabbed me by the shoulders and looked into my eyes. “We can kill them easily! Remember that! Every time you attack one you will kill it.”
“Sounds like wishful thinking,” I muttered, not at all sure about this.
Hydan nodded, “Exactly! Just make sure you believe in yourself. Remember, what you think will affect how you do. Now get a weapon ready.”
He reached behind his back and pulled out a long bladed knife.
“Christ on a stick! Where did you get a knife?” I exclaimed. There was no way I’d missed him carrying a knife that big.
“You just... never mind,” he exclaimed with a sigh, then tossed me his blade hilt first. “Catch! I’ve got another one.”
“Another one!” this was too much to swallow; it was obvious he didn't feel like explaining the truth at the moment.
He reached back again and pulled out another knife, a duplicate of the one I now held.
He pointed at my knife with his free hand. “That’s a magic blade you’re holding."
"What," I scoffed, "like Sting?"
"It's not a stinger, it's a knife, and whenever you swing at one of the gehdrin it always hits and always kills. Trust me on this, I mean it.”
I looked at it dubiously, but considering he couldn't possibly have had two of these big knives hidden on him, I had to conclude that it had already demonstrated the impossible anyway. The other leap of faith didn’t take much more to believe; so, OK, I had a magic knife.
He gestured with his blade toward a dark rise ahead of us. "Come on; let's make a break for high ground." Then he dashed off like the Devil was after him; I followed close on his heels.
Behind us, I heard the call of the creatures as they picked up our trail and came on in hot pursuit. We stopped on top of the mound and turned to face our hunters.
"This isn't much of a hill," I noted to my new found friend.
Hydan shrugged, “It’s the highest spot nearby; it will have to do.”
Whatever the hell was coming for us, I wished with all my heart for them to go away.
We crouched there in the dark, waiting for the attack, then we heard a howl again, but it was further off now.
“Wow, we are in luck! The gehdrin missed our trail, or they picked up on someone stronger than us. They tend to go after those with the most power.”
I looked at the long knife in my hand, “What do I do with this?” I asked.
He shrugged, “Give it here.”
I handed it over, and he made it disappear, like some magician’s trick and some fake flowers. It was just suddenly, gone, and so was his weapon.
“Now, weren’t we talking about drinking something that will do these bodies harm?” he asked, as if barely escaping werewolves was nothing to comment about.
Chapter Three
With just one look I was a bad mess
Cause that long cool woman had it all.
-The Hollies
We walked about three miles and entered the town of Amesbury. Hydan unerringly arrived at a small family owned establishment, called the Rose and Crown. Just before we got there a chicken ran across the road in front of us, and Hydan stopped, and then laughed. “That is the dumbest looking fowl I have ever had the pleasure of seeing. There is NO WAY that fat thing can fly!”
“It’s just a chicken,” I said.
“A chicken? Dumb name, for a dumb bird. I like it! Gaia must have had some real fun here.”
I had no idea what he was talking about, so I let it go.
As soon as we entered the Rose and Crown Hydan arranged a room for us in their Bed and Breakfast room for rent, which was located just above the bar. When we then sat down in the pub I learned something immediately, Hydan could drink.
Let me say it again, that boy could put down the booze like a sailor on a three-day pass. Within minutes, he had some of the locals singing and soon joined in, learning the words as he went, rather quickly. A young lady of about 23 years, with blonde hair, smiled at his antics, and he soon had her perched on his lap, while he downed yet another mug of the local brew.
“This is the life!” he called to me, lifting a freshly filled mug as a toast.
I shook my head. Unlike my boisterous friend, I had taken a quiet seat in the corner, where I could keep an eye on the door. I was sipping from my first mug sparingly, just enough so it looked like I was drinking. I was far from comfortable; there were too many unanswered questions, too much emptiness in my head for me to enjoy life. Eventually, Hydan, and his new female companion, slipped out and upstairs. Well, they would have, if Hydan had not turned at the door, with his arm around Saphron, and called out loudly, “I shall return once I have been vanquished by fair Saphron!”
There were some hoot and cat calls, and then Hydan took the blushing Saphron off to our room. I didn’t begrudge him his fun, but I was still deep in thought.
First off, I considered these werewolves Hydan had alluded to, I hadn’t actually seen them. Maybe it was just his overactive imagination or alcohol induced delusions. He certainly drank enough, and might have been drinking earlier. But, if those were just wolves, then where did they come from in England? Then, there was the fact that he had appeared out of thin air. When one strange thing happens, you have to assume other stranger things are possible. So, if I, for the moment, accept the idea of werewolves, the next question is why were these werewolves out searching the countryside? I’m not much of a believer in coincidence.
So, this means they were likely after me, or Hydan. Since this was Hydan’s first visit to this area, and he didn’t seem concerned that someone was after him, it followed that they were after me. I was the one with someone hunting them, that psychopath Stewart Hentan.
I sighed and took another sip of my drink.
There was a faint sound of creaking bedsprings in a steady rhythm from upstairs, so one of the locals picked up a violin and started playing to the rhythm of the creaking springs. Some of the others laughed, and soon a guitar and an accordion joined into the tune, effectively drowning out the noises from upstairs.
That’s when a mysterious woman entered the room, coming out of the cold night. I say ‘mysterious’ because you couldn’t help but look at her, and wish she would look your way.
She had a navy blue cape wrapped around her, and a large hood up over her head to protect her from the night dew. I could just make out her eyes inside the gloom of the hood as she took in the room silently.
Like me, all of the locals were staring at this woman, so I figured she couldn’t be part of the local crowd.
Talk and laughter petered out as everyone’s attention went to the new arrival.
Her eyes landed on me, and it was like time was stretching into slow motion. I felt heat rise in my face. Then, wonder of wonders, she headed my direction. I felt a joy like a child on Christmas morning, mixed with a teenager who has the prom queen on his arm entering the dance hall.
Slowly the mumble of voices came back up in a low kind of background noise.
There was something… powerful, about her. I can’t explain it; perhaps it was how she moved through the room like she owned this entire province. She was graceful in ways which were indefinable. She arrived at my table and spoke in a soft alto voice which sent shivers of pleasure up my spine. It just wasn’t fair; no girl should sound so pleasing to the ear.
“Is this chair taken?” her melodious voice breathed.
I didn’t trust my voice to reply; it might break like some school boy, so I tipped my mug toward the chair and nodded, letting her know she could take it. But she didn’t pull the chair away; she sat down at my table.
“D-d-do I know you?” I stuttered.
She smiled slightly, the corner of her perfect lips pulling up. I felt like I had been given a gift.
Then she said, “No, but I know you.”
Something like an actual thought managed to get through the buzz clouding my brain from her presence, and I remembered that strange beings were hunting me, and the allure of this woman was more than humanly possible. My eyes darted toward the door, gauging my escape routes.
She chuckled low in her throat, with such genuine amusement she froze me like a deer in the headlights. Then she spoke in her wondrous voice, “I am not here to harm you, far from it, Nicholas Sivaeral, I am here to help you.”
I knew her voice; though it was twice as powerful and beautiful in person, I had already heard it once before this evening, “Fiona?”
She smiled, and then lowered her hood, revealing a strikingly beautiful face which would have made Angelina Jolie viciously jealous. She had long silky blonde hair, with sweeping bangs going across her face from left to right, like the perfect feathers of a bird’s wing. Her nose was small, her lips full and nearly red, yet I could detect no makeup on her beautiful face. Her eyes were incredibly striking, a brown which was almost amber.
But her most eye-catching feature was the Glyph on her left cheek. It was made of crisscrossing, but unconnected, slashing marks and curves, with the center yellow and changing through orange to red on the way out to the left and right extremities. I didn’t see the shape instantly, but then it came to me, altogether the slash marks made a highly stylized spider. It did not detract from her beauty at all; it just made her look more exotic.
Like the Glyph on my face, or the other two I’d seen, Fiona’s was vibrant and etched right into the skin slightly.
“Well met, Nicholas,” she said in a warm voice which sent pleasant chills up my spine.
I nodded to her, trying to affect a much steadier appearance than what I actually felt. Inside my emotions were like a bird in gale force winds, while Fiona looked as steady as a stone column. She looked like someone who knew what the hell was going on, and I envied her that knowledge. I must have looked like a boy trying to ask a girl who is way out of his league on a date.
The music players were off onto another tune, and even though we were in a small room full of people I had the feeling that they could not even see or hear us. No one was looking our way, or staring at Fiona, and she was worth staring at, permanently.
“You may speak freely,” she noted to me when she noticed my eyes taking in the room.
I nodded, “OK, I don’t know where to start, but let’s begin simply with, what the hell is going on?”
She smiled, and a lesser mortal would have passed out from the pure pleasure of seeing her beauty; I’ll admit, I actually did feel a little light headed.
Then she said, “I know you are worried, and a little overwhelmed. Do you remember me, Nick?”
Damn it! I wanted to say, ‘Hell yes, who could ever forget you!’ But for the life of me, I couldn’t ever remember seeing her face, and you would swear you could never forget it. I couldn’t form the words, so I j
ust gave her the slightest of shake of my head. I expected her to frown and stand up to leave; you didn’t insult Aphrodite with forgetfulness.
But Fiona only smiled sadly, and I felt like weeping at her expression.
Then she said, “All right, I had hoped some of your memories had returned, but before I start filling in some of the blanks, can you tell me if you already remember anything? Do you know the Houses or about the Archimages?”
“Houses, Archimages?” I said, furrowing my brow in puzzlement.
She nodded, “I see. I was afraid of this, my love.”
When she said ‘my love’, I nearly passed out, and almost didn’t hear the rest of what she said, but I sort of re-ran it in my head.
“The thing is Nick,” Fiona continued, “you were hit with a very powerful dark spell, one which locked away your memories, or erased them. This was done so you could not defend yourself against attack.”
“Right,” I said dubiously, “A spell.” Normally when someone says something that dumb I would have replied with biting sarcasm, but I just couldn’t do this to such a beauteous example of the female form.
“Yes, a magic spell, a very dark one,” she answered.
Some of my natural acidity seem to break through my infatuation, and I gave her a kind of stern look as I said, “The hell it was, I don’t even believe in magic.”
A half smile pulled at the left side of her mouth, “That is unfortunate, Nicholas Sivaeral because you are a powerful wizard, a mage.”
I let her statement sit around in the air for a minute while I contemplated her words and enjoyed just looking at her face, but I finally kind of snorted with mirth as I said, “A wizard, like Harry Potter?” I had remembered the character from the book in the airport, but I was being sarcastic, the whole idea of me being a wizard, of ANYONE being a wizard, was ridiculous.
She laughed gently, but even that small sound made the room feel like a party. “No, not like the wizard named Harry in those books, nor like the wizard named Harry Dresden in other books, you are part of something else, something different, something real.”