With reluctance, I gave him my sword and he laid it on a workbench, then set his own beside it. The smithy smelled of wood smoke and iron. Heat from the forge warmed my face and sweat broke out across my forehead.
“Come, pup.” Rol led me back out into the courtyard, and a breeze cooled my skin.
I scowled. “Could you knock it off with the ‘pup’ crap already?”
“Silence.” Rol stopped in the center of the training yard and raised his face to the sky.
Rol closed his eyes, his dark shoulders and arms glistening in the sunlight like some oil-coated pro bodybuilder. He took a deep breath and raised his powerful arms, his muscles cording. A vein popped out on his thick neck.
While Rol was doing his impersonation of a statue, my gaze wandered to the courtyard.
And I saw a giant dragon thing appear out of nowhere. Only ten feet in front of us.
“Rol!” I shouted as I whirled toward the smithy to grab my sword.
“Stay.” Rol opened his eyes and snatched my arm in his vise-grip before I got past him. He jerked me around to face the beast.
The dragon blinked at me as I struggled to free myself from Rol’s grasp. The creature was so massive it blotted out the sun, casting an enormous shadow over us. Wind whooshed by my ears as the dragon stretched its wings from one end of the training yard to the other. The ground rumbled and the creature’s scales glowed an iridescent green as it moved toward Rol and me.
“What’s the matter with you?” My heart pounded and blood rushed in my ears. “It’s coming after us!”
Even as the dragon reared back its head, I knew we were toast. It roared and let loose a blast of fire from its cave-like mouth. I closed my eyes and flung up my free arm as if that could shield me.
And felt nothing.
Slowly lowering my arm, I peeked through one eye and saw the dragon was gone. Vanished.
My other eye popped open.
Chuckling, Rol released his hold.
Whipping around, I glared at him, wanting to slug the big jerk. “That was an illusion, wasn’t it?”
Rol grinned. “Aye. And an excellent one.”
I clenched my fists. Okay, so Rol was bigger than me. A lot bigger. No matter. I still wanted to take him on. “Why didn’t you warn me?”
“A lesson, my boy.” Rol’s white teeth flashed against his dark skin. “So that you might see what a powerful tool the art of illusion can be.”
The stupid “tool” still had my heart pounding so fast that I thought it would never slow down. “Great. Next time think you could give me some clue?”
He clapped me on the back. “Now it is your turn to conjure a slither illusion.”
I stumbled forward and rubbed my shoulder as I glared at him. “Oh, sure. One dragon coming right up.”
Rol arched his eyebrow.
“All right, all right.” I folded my arms across my chest. “Tell me how I’m supposed to make a dragon out of thin air.”
“It requires concentration and focus.”
I rolled my eyes. “Just terrific. What I’m worst at: concentrating and focusing.”
Rol frowned. “You are able to do both well with sword fighting. It is much the same with magic.”
He had me there. When it came to physical stuff, like baseball and swordplay, I had no problem concentrating. Maybe magic was the same way? That is, if I really could do magic.
I dragged my hand through my hair and sighed. “So, how do I whip up a dragon?”
“A slither.” Rol straightened his shoulders. “You must visualize the beast in your mind as alive and real. It shall appear as you have imagined it to be.”
“Okay. Right. Picture a dragon—I mean slither.” I shook out my hands and bounced on the balls of my feet, like I was getting ready to step into the batter’s box. After taking a deep breath and exhaling, I closed my eyes and tried to visualize that up-close-and-personal view I had just gotten of Rol’s imaginary slither.
Nothing happened. I couldn’t even focus on its image. My knee started to bounce and that jittery feeling spread over me. Like I’d had a mega-jolt of caffeine. That same feeling always took hold of me when I tried to concentrate on schoolwork, or when I tried to practice magic with Jazz. Stupid ADHD made my life miserable.
Concentrate. I furrowed my brows and tried to force my brain to cooperate. My knee bounced harder, and I wanted to squirm out of my skin.
My eyes flew open, and I got a good look at Rol’s disapproving frown.
“I can’t do this.” My gut flamed and failure burned like acid in my throat. Before Rol could respond, I turned around and marched away across the training yard.
I half expected him to yell or come after me, but all I heard was his deep sigh.
So I was a disappointment to Rol. And to Jazz. Like that was some big surprise. After all, I had been nothing but a disappointment to my dad since the day I was born.
At first I didn’t know where I was headed, I just knew I had to get away from Rol. From everyone and everything. Moving felt good and cleared my head, but my failures continued to gnaw at my insides. Why couldn’t I be normal like everyone else, and be able to concentrate when it was important?
Not that magic was something normal people could do.
Not that magic was something I could do.
It wasn’t long before I started walking toward my place. I had discovered it the day after Jazz had zapped the dirt off my boots. Rol had let me wander off, after we’d spent the afternoon sparring. Of course, he made sure that I knew Shadowbridge’s grounds were protected by some kind of spellwork, so I could only go so far.
Not one to ignore a challenge, I had walked across the courtyard and through a grove of trees until I smacked into an invisible wall. I bounced off of it, like it was made of rubber, and landed on my ass. The barrier had glittered gold, reminding me of the way the sky had looked when Jazz trapped me in this timeline.
For almost the whole time I had been a prisoner, whenever I had free time, I tried to find a way around it, but no dice. So, like a trained dog behind an electric fence, I stopped trying to get past the invisible wall and found a place to kick back and be alone. At least I hoped I was alone, with no one spying on me in a crystal ball or something. I wouldn’t have put it past Jazz.
Humiliation at disappointing Rol settled inside me as I reached my hideout. It was beside a stream, in the middle of a bunch of pine trees. My hearing seemed sharper, and in the distance I could hear ocean waves crashing against the shore. I smelled salt and brine mixed with the pine of the forest.
Sometimes, it was like I could sense the witches around me, too. From Jazz and Rol to the freaks down in Shallym. Like we were all connected.
That was friggin’ weird.
I scooped up a stone and skipped it across the stream—it was so narrow that the stone only bounced twice on the water’s surface before landing on the other bank. I pitched the next rock into the air, but like I expected, it struck the invisible wall and dropped to the ground. The only other sign of the barrier was that golden glitter that rippled across its surface.
With a sigh, I crouched beside the stream and started flinging rocks into it. I wondered what my parents were doing, and if Brandon’s folks had called them when I never showed up in San Diego. More than likely, Mom was totally freaked out, and I bet Dad was telling her how they never should have let me go off on my own.
Todd was probably asking if he could have my room.
Shifting to sit on the bank, I propped my elbows on my knees and smiled at the thought of my brother. His pet menagerie would fit better in my room than his own, that was for sure. My parents had converted the back porch into a pretty cool bedroom for me, extending from one end of the house to the other. Yeah, I could picture Todd’s boa constrictor and his glass tank of lizards all set up in one corner. I bet he would really go nuts over seeing a slither.
Mom had taken over my old room and used it for all her bizarre stuff—we started calling it the “back
room,” even though technically, mine was at the back of the house. The backroom was where she took all her strange horticulture friends when they came over to visit, and where she kept her mushroom collection (she called it a “blind”) and a bunch of other plants that only grew under black lights. I never understood what was so exciting about fungi. But most parents were terminally weird. At least Mom didn’t collect old Barbie stuff or something really lame.
Sounds of wind through the pine trees and the stream gurgling over rocks had the effect of relaxing me every time I came to my hideout. I even felt like I could concentrate on anything I needed to.
Maybe that’s it. Maybe I just need to practice alone, without an audience. Yeah. Alone, like I was most of the time, before I came here.
Excitement stirred inside as I remembered all the hours I had practiced hitting. When I was in Little League, Mom would drop me off at the city park’s batting cage with a pocketful of quarters, and I would hit one ball after another until my muscles ached. No audience. No pressure. Eventually I had gotten so good that it didn’t matter if anyone was watching me.
The same for throwing. I used to throw a baseball across our backyard at various targets, over and over and over, until I could just about hit any spot I wanted with my eyes closed.
With renewed determination, I stood and searched the area for something to lift with magic, like I had supposedly lifted the bar earlier. My gaze rested on a good-sized rock a few feet away, one that was as big as a basketball.
I shook out my hands and jogged in place, trying to limber up. After a few deep breaths, I concentrated on moving the rock with magic.
It didn’t budge.
Again and again I tried to move the rock, but nothing happened. I must have spent a good half hour trying to move the rock, frustration building with each attempt.
Okay. I could do it—sure I could. I was alone, no distractions, nobody watching me.
I forced myself to calm down. To concentrate. To focus.
I can do this.
This time I closed my eyes, and remembered how Jazz told me to visualize what I wanted to move, to make it seem real in my mind. Warmth stirred in my gut along with a tickle of that power I’d felt earlier, when I had moved the bar.
Yes. I did move the bar.
The warm sensation grew as I pictured the rock. I opened my eyes, but the rock hadn’t budged. I frowned, then realized my skin was glowing like it had that time I hit the applecart in the marketplace. A glow like Jazz’s, only mine was silver. That had to mean something, right?
Again, I closed my eyes, and I heard Jazz’s voice echoing in my head, “Put the force of your thought behind it.”
Force of thought. Force of thought.
Fire curled inside, flames licking up into my chest and along my arms. Heat built and expanded, like lava flowing from a volcano. I raised my hand as I visualized the rock, imagining it as light as a basketball spinning on my fingertip.
I felt the power growing, so much I thought I would explode. I opened my eyes…and saw the rock whirling in the air, a good four feet off the ground.
“Woohoo!” I shouted and pumped my fist. A flock of birds scattered from the trees, and I stumbled back. The rock dropped to the ground and rolled toward me, almost landing on my foot.
I couldn’t stop grinning. I did it!
If I hadn’t been afraid of feeling like an idiot, I probably would have danced around like a football player after scoring the winning touchdown in the Super Bowl. Energized by success, I started practicing on anything I could find. A piece of driftwood, a log, and then several baseball-sized rocks—all at once. The more I practiced, the easier it got. If nothing else, I’d be a hit at kids’ birthday parties, dressed up like Bozo and juggling a dozen rocks at once.
Of course, I found I had to be careful, too. One time, I grabbed onto a dead branch with my magic, and yanked it toward me so hard that it shot through the air and almost took off my head.
When I ran out of things to manipulate with magic, I decided to try an illusion. My victory at learning one kind of magic made me feel like I could do anything—at least when I was alone.
I closed my eyes and tried to remember what Rol had taught me about illusions. The now-familiar warmth sizzled inside my chest.
Picture a slither. Picture a slither.
Only I couldn’t quite visualize the beast Rol had conjured up. This time, when I opened my eyes, I felt disappointment. There was no imaginary dragon lumbering my way.
But then something closer to the ground caught my eye.
I narrowed my gaze at the thing inching toward me. It was about the size of a cat, but it had wings sprouting from its back and flames curling out of its mouth. The tiny creature roared, only it sounded more like a cartoon duck’s quack.
Well, I had managed to create an illusion that might frighten a mouse.
Shaking my head, I laughed, and the mini-slither vanished. I couldn’t stop laughing. I laughed so hard my stomach hurt and my eyes watered. I wiped the moisture from my eyes with the back of my hand and started to head back toward the manor.
Wait till I showed Jazz and Rol what I could do.
No.
While I walked, I slid my hand into my pocket and smoothed my fingers over the statue. For a second, I thought it wriggled in my hand, but I knew that was impossible. A lead fist settled in my gut. I frowned.
Why didn’t I want to tell Rol and Jazz about my success? I would wait until I was really good. Yeah, that was it. I would probably just make a fool of myself, anyway. They would think I made up the whole thing.
While I strode toward the manor, my thoughts once again turned back to the day that Jazz and I had talked the whole afternoon and half the night, too. Why couldn’t we get along like that all the time? Why did we always end up fighting? I really liked her, despite everything. Or maybe it was because of everything. Whatever it was, I wished I could figure her out.
My stomach was rumbling by the time I reached the back door to the manor. But then I heard a sound. Women singing. The most beautiful song—familiar, yet I couldn’t quite place it.
The singing drew me closer. I had to get to them. My heart rate picked up as I hurried through the manor and practically ran to the front door. I flung it open, and I saw the most gorgeous beings I had ever seen.
Their glittery blonde hair floated around their faces, and I knew I was in love. I had to be with them. I had to get to them.
Now.
***
Chapter Eighteen
Bren seemed to float down the front steps of Shadowbridge, entranced by the Keeper’s insidious music. Sunlight made his scruffy hint of beard seem rugged and handsome, and I clenched my fists.
Already, the klatchKoven had begun to dance, waving graceful hands at the glittering sky.
I needed to see this. I needed to watch Bren under the spell of other witches, even faithless flesh-eaters such as these, to remind myself that my first duty was training him, and that if he didn’t take this seriously, he’d die. And maybe I needed some distance, too. Seeing other witches touch him might be just what I needed to snap me out of lovesick self-pity. I really was getting tired of myself.
Rol stood in the doorway. His hands covered his ears. He was shaking and sweating, and glaring at me in between nervous glances at the Keeper, who stood to my right. Her expression was smug. And hungry.
As for Bren, oblivion described him in full. For one who claimed difficulty with concentration, he was certainly well-focused on the six pairs of swaying hips before him.
Bren reached the ground and stood atop Shadowbridge Hill, and the klatch surrounded him like golden panthers pacing around their prey.
The air smelled faintly of mulberry and hazelnut. Exotic and intoxicating. Rol was near collapse as Bren allowed himself to be drawn into the dancing circle. I could tell the training master would have risked his sanity to interfere, but my cold stare warned him away. Rol stumbled backward, and the heavy oak door of Shadowbri
dge Manor closed with a resounding thump.
The klatchKoven circled Bren, running long, pale fingers over his skin. Bren was breathing hard, making little effort to resist their charms.
I drew a centering breath and spoke through the beautiful singing. “Lovely, aren’t they?”
Bren managed a nod as hands caressed his chest.
“You feel you should trust them.” I sighed. “That they have eyes only for you.”
Again, Bren nodded.
My frown must have been intense, because the Keeper beside me shuddered. Still, she didn’t step away. KlatchKoven Keepers gave ground for no one, even the Queen of the Witches. Her formidable teeth gnashed once, but of course, Bren was far too occupied with physical sensation to notice.
The sight of other witches touching him, and of him enjoying it, made my stomach roil.
The klatch ceased singing and began to whisper, urging Bren to relax, to believe their message of love. And he wanted to. I could tell.
“Most beings are not to be trusted.” My fists pressed into my legs, and my chest ached. “Mark me, Bren. Until you know every aspect of a being, especially if they’re of the oldeFolke, don’t drop your guard. Not until you’ve heard the oath sworn by their hearts, even as other words spill from their lips.”
“Nice lips,” he muttered to the nearest klatch witch.
“Try to regain your balance.” My voice sounded like a goose’s honk against the silken tones of the klatch. “Nire could have a dozen klatchKovens waiting to tempt you when we go to battle.”
Bren didn’t seem interested in balance or in tapping into his unusual ability to shrug off enchantments, spells, and magical commands. The sun kissed his hair with soft streaks, and he smiled with an expression close to rapture at the nearest witch. Below us, at the foot of the hill, I imagined all of Shallym, paused and watching.
Shadowbridge was silent and still, but I had no doubt that Rol was inside, bound in ropes of his own spells to keep himself safe, praying to the universe on Bren’s behalf. Acaw might have been watching as well. Elves were immune to klatchKoven charms, as were many of the oldeFolke, but Acaw appreciated beautiful women no less than the next man.
L.O.S.T. Trilogy Box Set Page 14