Reawakening

by CM Raymond

  Gregory stared into her eyes, no longer blue, but dark brown. All his life, he had heard about the danger that Unlawfuls posed. Heard people say that they were no better than animals. And looking around him at the dead bodies, Gregory couldn’t help but wonder if the people were right. But looking into this person’s eyes, Hannah’s eyes, Gregory knew beyond any doubt in his heart that she was good.

  And he knew then that she was a person worth taking the time to listen to.

  He gritted his teeth together and nodded. “Tell me what you need.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  One of the things that being Chancellor afforded Adrien was time to work. Not on class design or administrative duties, but on pure research. Ever since the old fool had taught him his first spell, Adrien became convinced that there was more power out there—if only he had the time to reach out and grab it. It was how he first discovered his ability to make magitech.

  Sheets of parchment were laid out on the table in front of him, and he pulled on his hair as he paced the room and thought of possibilities. Ezekiel was more powerful than when he left, and Adrien needed to be equally powerful if he was going to succeed—and magitech would be his answer.

  “Sir,” Doyle shouted, snapping Adrien out of his fixated state.

  Adrien turned around, “What the hell, Doyle? Can’t you see that I am working!”

  The assistant flinched at the rebuke and dropped his eyes to the floor. Interrupting Adrien was an impossible task. He was damned if he did, and damned if he didn’t. “My apologies, sir. But I have news for you.”

  Adrien glanced down at the papers, trying to mark in his mind exactly where he was so as not to lose it. “This better be damn good.”

  The man nodded. “Better than good, Chancellor. We have the kid. The little bitch’s friend. He was caught trying to escape the factory. Alexandra has been questioning him for hours. It is only a matter of time before he breaks.”

  Adrien smiled. He knew full well what Alexandra was capable of. “Where is he now?”

  “The factory, sir.”

  Adrien brushed past Doyle without a word. The prisoner might be the key to finding the girl. And she would lead them straight to Ezekiel.

  ****

  Ezekiel nodded to the guard as he crossed over into the Boulevard. The bored looking man grunted back. Ezekiel had altered his appearance again. No longer looking like the nobleman from the North, Ezekiel’s mental magic allowed him to look like any other dweller of the slums. Amelia, in a flash of red eyes, had been made to match.

  The Dean of students kept looking at her dirty, frayed dress. She’d pulled her long hair out where she could see it, and in the place of her luxurious strands was a dry, dirty mane, complete with split ends. “But how did you…”

  Ezekiel raised a hand. “Not here. Not now. I will make it all clear in due time.”

  Weaving through the Boulevard, they kept their heads down. Although they looked like they belonged among the masses, they were still strangers there, and the residents of the Boulevard knew their own. However, enough people were moving about that no one gave them more than a second glance.

  He held a door open to a darkened tavern. The name Lloyd’s hung over the door on a crooked sign. “After you, my lady,” Ezekiel said with a grin.

  Amelia stepped through into the depressing, dark, and damp establishment. A few drunken heads turned to look at the new recruits, and then returned to their brews. He led her to a table in the back, just out of sight of the front door. Signaling to the bartender with two fingers raised in the air, they were soon sipping on a bitter ale that tasted like it was made with dishwater and old, crusty hops.

  Ezekiel sipped on his. “Tastes like the old days.” He looked up and noticed Amelia staring, with her mouth slightly opened. “I know, the beggar’s look is unbecoming of a rich man, isn’t it,” he said.

  Amelia looked back down at herself. He had given her a pot belly, which made her giggle as she tried to poke at it. “How the hell did you do this, Girard?”

  “You’ve heard of mental magic?”

  She nodded. “Of course. The mystics practice it, but I never knew it could do this,” she said, waving her hand over herself. “But how did you learn it? I thought that Adrien kept a close eye on those who studied at the temple.”

  Ezekiel looked over one shoulder and then the other, making certain that the coast was clear. “Not as close of an eye as he thinks.”

  Amelia shook her head. “That’s not an answer.”

  “Do you trust me?” Ezekiel asked, a grin spreading across his face.

  Ezekiel asked Amelia the question, but he was asking himself whether he trusted her. He had not known the Dean long, but he had come to appreciate her direct demeanor. She was honest, gutsy, and obviously held her students’ wellbeing in high regard. That was a start, but he wasn’t sure if it was enough to go on. Unfortunately, time wasn’t on his side, so he decided to roll the dice and tell her the truth.

  If Amelia proved untrustworthy... then he would have to take other measures.

  The woman snorted. “Trust you? Hell no! Double hell no. Look at what you’re capable of, you might not even be Lord Girard…”

  Ezekiel cocked his head and grinned slightly.

  “Shit. Are you kidding me?” Suddenly, her peasant's face was filled with fear. Her eyes darted around the bar, looking for a way out, looking for help.

  Ezekiel held his hands up in front of her. “Easy. I come in peace. Just give me a chance to explain.”

  He watched her settle back in. “You have three minutes and then I’m leaving. Go.”

  “You asked me early how I learned the mystics’ magic. But the answer might catch you off guard. I taught them the mental magic—years and years ago. Just like I taught the druids theirs. And, believe it or not, I took in your boss—the Chancellor—when he was only a child and taught him as well.”

  Her mouth dropped further open. “You are the Founder?” She shook her head, “Bullshit. Prove it.”

  “I think I already have, Amelia. And you know it. The Prophet, that man speaking on the corners of Arcadia has been preaching my return. And he’s been right—well, half-right. I’ve come back, but it’s not the Unlawfuls that I’m coming to destroy. It’s Adrien and those loyal to him who have earned my wrath. I left Arcadia in the hands of a man I trusted, and he has squandered both my trust and my city. The natural ear doesn’t hear it, Amelia, but Arcadia is groaning under his oppressions. The city has waited patiently to be restored—but the wait is over.”

  She shook her head, placing a hand over her mouth. “Why are you telling me this?”

  “Because I need you,” Ezekiel said. “Like I said, this is the right fight. But it’s one I can’t win... not on my own at least. But with the help of some people like you…”

  Amelia lifted her glass, “I’m going to need a few more of these,” she said then slammed it back down onto the table.

  “Be my guest,” Ezekiel said as he waved to the bartender for more.

  ****

  If walking through Queen’s Boulevard was off-putting for the noble Chancellor, the factory was altogether disorienting. He created this place, and yet, hated it all the same. Seeing the workers chained to their stations sent chills up his spine. Adrien’s power extended to every corner of Arcadia, and this was a testimony of his strength. But it was dirty, and the lack of dignity within the place made him realize just how much was being sacrificed for the sake of his dreams.

  But… worth it. His vision was greater than the life of every soul on the floor of the factory. He would kill them all—and more—if it meant he could achieve his goal.

  Heart rate racing, Adrien wound through the labyrinth-like hallways toward the interrogation room. There was a good chance that Alexandra had gotten all the information he needed out of the boy, Parker. He was just some street rat after all. But he hoped that she had saved even just a little fun for him.

  Standing outside of the
door, he straightened his robe and then pushed into the dark, dank room. A single beam cast down on a naked, bloody body. His eyes narrowed as Adrien took in the form of an obese man who hung from his wrists, weeping like a school child.

  “What the hell is this?” he asked.

  Alexandra turned, a whip in her right hand. A crazed smile painted her face. “Ah, Chancellor. So good of you to join us. This is Jack. He worked on the line next to Parker.”

  “Who the hell cares? Where is the boy? Where is Parker?”

  “You haven’t heard?” Her smile faded as she realized the meeting might go sideways. “The little bastard got away.”

  “That’s impossible.” Adrien’s words were hard as granite.

  She laughed, trying to set the man at ease. “Impossible? Adrien, do not be naïve, darling. Nothing is impossible. His escape was an unfortunate oversight. We’ll find him again, just relax.”

  In three long strides, Adrien crossed the room. His large hand reached out and grabbed her by the throat. “Speak to me like that again, and I’ll tear you apart.”

  “I talk as I wish, Chancellor.” Her face held no fear, and something between resentment and desire dripped off her lips.

  Without warning, Adrien snapped an open hand across her face, knocking her to the ground. A drop of blood rose on her lips. She pulled it off with a finger and then sucked the blood off her fingertip. “Charming. But I don’t think we have time for your foreplay.”

  Adrien snarled. “You bitch. Parker was our ticket to the girl, and you lost him. You’ll pay for this with your life.”

  Alexandra pushed herself to her feet. She tucked back a loose strand of hair as if she had no care in the world.

  “At least allow me to buy it back, for old times’ sake,” she said, a cruel smile back on her lips. “You only need to ask nicely. I know exactly how to find the girl.”

  ****

  The door of the noble mansion nearly fell off its hinges as Hannah kicked it open. Karl and Gregory supported Parker, but by now he was barely able to stand. He hung on the edge of life and death.

  Hannah led them into the dining room. She swiped dishes and an arrangement of flowers off the formal dining room table. Their clatter filled the room. “Here. Bring him here.”

  They carried him over and eased Parker’s body onto the hardwood surface. For a beat, they all looked at one another—each waiting for the other to initiate. Time stood still. Hanna knew it was her move, but she didn’t quite know what to do. “Gregory, hot water. Go!”

  The boy nodded and sprinted from the room.

  As he left, another person took his place. It was Eleanor. Her confusion immediately turned to fear as she recognized the beaten form of her son lying on the table. She screamed as if the world was ending.

  “Parker! My baby.” The woman kept crying—and Hannah knew how she felt. But she blocked out Eleanor’s words. Hannah needed to focus.

  She looked up at Karl. He nodded. “I’ve got this, lass. You just do what you need to.”

  Hannah didn’t watch, but the screaming got quieter as Karl led Eleanor down the hall.

  Parker’s eyes open, only a sliver. “Hey… I knew you’d…”

  “Shhh. Quiet. You need your strength.”

  He smiled, but only barely. “I knew you’d come back. Never doubted for a second. I saw things, Hannah. Things you wouldn’t… I’m glad for this, before I…”

  Hannah shook her head. She had seen too much death. Too much destruction. “Shut the hell up, Parker. You’re getting off this table.”

  Her eyes flamed red as she tried to focus on Ezekiel. She still wasn’t very good at this kind of communication, especially over long distances—and Ezekiel could be halfway around Irth for all she knew. At one point, she thought that she was close to him, but she couldn’t hold it. She was too worried about what would happen if she failed.

  The door opened again, and Hannah could feel Gregory standing next to her. He reached down and place a finger on Parker’s jugular. Shaking his head, he said, “It’s weak.”

  “What do you know? What the bloody hell do you know?” Hannah snapped at the young noble.

  Gregory gave a resigned nod. “I know enough. The body is a machine. I might not know how to shape clay with magic, but I know how machines work. He’s broken, Hannah. Let’s make him as comfortable as possible. Help him leave well. Assist him toward—”

  “There is no toward anywhere,” Hannah’s voice lifted in anger at the situation, in fear of losing him. “No Matriarch or Patriarch. No astral plane. There is here, and there is now, and I need him.” She turned her eyes toward Parker. “I need you,” she pleaded. “You will not leave me!”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Over the course of an hour, Ezekiel told Amelia the entire story, leaving out very few details. He talked about the Oracle, Lilith, and how she taught him how to end the Age of Madness. He described the founding of Arcadia, and his early attempts to share magic with the world. He skipped his forty-year absence—that was a story for another time—but focused instead on Hannah, the girl who he had put so much hope in.

  He placed three empty ale glasses in the middle of the table. Placing his finger on one at a time, he said, “Imagine this is physical magic. Mental magic. And nature magic.” Her eyes followed his finger as it bounced from glass to glass. “Each of them is different, but they all come from the same source—the etheric realm. It is the fount of all magical power, and it dwells inside of all of us. Each group of magic users—the druids, the mystics, and physical users like you—developed their magic in distinct ways, ways that fit their natures. It makes sense that the druids and the mystics each nurture power in their own ways. The mystics, people of transcendence connected to the mind in ways most could never fathom, and the druids, people of the woods and wild. Nature magic just made sense for them.”

  “And Arcadians?” she asked.

  “Think about our history. When I first came to his land, the Mad were running wild. The people in this valley, they were all hustlers, really,” Ezekiel laughed. “Just trying to survive. Trying to make it day by day. Physical magic was fast, simple, and effective. It was precisely what they needed to crawl back from the darkness. And things developed along those lines.”

  Amelia nodded. “Makes sense. But you know them all?”

  Ezekiel shrugged. “I’m not from the Arcadian Valley. Where I was raised, I had the freedom to develop my power in a variety of ways. When I first came here, I originally tried to teach all of what I knew. But I found that most people grabbed on to what they were comfortable with. The mystics and the druids had already started to differentiate themselves from the Arcadians before I left, but I never expected things to become so divided. I imagined the different communities working together, learning from one another and benefiting each other. But that obviously is not what came to pass.”

  “You can blame Adrien for that,” she said. “He always taught us not to trust the mystics—and most Arcadians don’t even believe the druids exist. They’ve become legend—like the Founder.”

  Ezekiel smiled, showing off a mouth full of yellow teeth—part of his illusion. “I can assure you, they and I are real.”

  She laughed and looked at herself again. “I’d say so. But what about the girl, Hannah?”

  “I’m glad you asked.” He stacked the ale glasses inside of each other. Holding them up, he said, “As far as I can tell, this is Hannah. She can do all three.”

  “Like you.”