by D. C. Akers
Demetrius stared at Bellisoria. His face was flushed, and his teeth clenched. Bellisoria took a step closer to him and met his gaze. Her voice was softer now, and her words were tender. “I know what they meant to you, Demetrius. I too lost a great friend in Rylan Dalcome, and trust me when I say the last thing I want to do is to see his family harmed. But, for their sake we must be sure; we must know what we are dealing with before we act. I promised Rylan I would keep his family safe, and I have no intention of breaking that promise now.”
Demetrius’s gaze slowly drifted from Bellisoria’s eyes to the floor and he nodded in agreement.
“When can we leave?” Vallen asked.
All heads turned to Atamar.
“Now. Asha and her team will be waiting for you at the portal. Should there really be a Viper on Earth, you are to retrieve the Dalcomes and return home with them. They will be safer here at the Majesty than alone on Earth with only a handful of Keepers.”
“Will Asha and her team be coming?” Vallen asked.
“No,” Atamar replied. “Not now with the Realms in chaos. We will need every Keeper Agent we have left to protect the Majesty and the portal. If I know Valteen, tonight was but a glimpse of a much larger plan.”
Chapter 4
Sam stared at the book for a brief moment before reaching down into the wall and removing it from its hiding place. It was surprisingly heavy for its size, which was probably due to the four gold medallions embedded in the cobalt leather cover.
The medallions were arranged in a circle in the center of the book; each was engraved with one of the four elemental signs: Earth, Water, Air, and Fire. The book was bound with a large clasp made of gold and silver ivy that traced elegantly around the cover, connecting in the middle to a large leaf-shaped lock with a small sapphire at its center. Sam had never seen a book like this before; it looked extremely old and foreign. The leather was soft and worn with small slender cracks that ran vertically down the cover.
He held the book in one hand and gently ran his fingers over the Water symbol. To his surprise, a small beam of light sprang from the symbol and encircled the Water crest. Sam trembled with excitement. The shear brilliance of the light was overwhelming. He had seen something similar to this back in the caves with the mirror, but this—this was incredible! To be so close, to be holding it in his hands, to hold magic, was nothing short of amazing! It made him feel like a superhero. No, it was more than that—it made him feel special and that was something Sam had never felt before.
As the book glowed, the luminescent Water symbol, with its rolling waves encircled by two thick bands, appeared between the rafters on the garage ceiling. Sam gazed up at it and could not help but smile. Magic is awesome. But at the same time, the symbol projected on the ceiling made him more than a little nervous. Magic had not turned out so well for him in the past, back in the caves with the floating mirror and the spiders. But the light coming from the book was so mesmerizing and overwhelming that Sam couldn’t help but be intrigued. Magic was real and he was holding it in his hands. He couldn’t stop now, he wanted to know more; he had to know more, and now was his chance.
Sam looked back down at the book and moved his finger to the next medallion. He touched it softly and, like the Water sign, it also began to glow, casting another image on the ceiling. This symbol was of three swirling gusts of wind that, to Sam, looked like fancy number nines. He knew this was the symbol for Air.
He continued this process until the symbols from all four medallions were glowing on the ceiling above him. Sam sat there, eyes wide in amazement, taking it all in. He was looking at something truly phenomenal, something most people only dreamed about, and he was holding it in his hands. As he reveled in the moment, he noticed that the images were beginning to fade in and out. He held the book tighter and gave it a light shake but it didn’t seem to help, and to Sam’s dismay the symbols abruptly disappeared from the ceiling.
He looked down and saw that the small sapphire at the center of the lock had begun to glow. Gradually, the faint blue became brighter and brighter until Sam had to turn away from the light and cover his eyes. The entire garage was now illuminated with the magnificent glow.
Sam slowly turned back around, giving his eyes time to adjust to the light. Still holding the book tightly, he looked down at the sapphire stone. His eyes shimmered with the magnificence of the scene before him and his breath caught in his chest as he felt a wave of anticipation swell up inside of him. The light was so intriguing, so inviting to Sam, but most of all, it was familiar. He didn’t know how or why. He couldn’t explain it—it just was. He felt the light pulling at something inside of him, drawing out a part of him that wanted or needed to connect with it. Sam gripped the book tightly. His hands started to tingle in expectancy and his muscles were tense. He felt a surge of power beginning to swell inside his chest. The energy coursed through his body, reaching every limb to the point where he felt he might explode.
Suddenly the sapphire went dark. The leaf lock snapped open, falling away from the book, and Sam felt a gush of emptiness sweep over his body as the energy left him. It was like he was a balloon and someone had just let all the air out of him.
He sat motionless, holding the book before him. His hands were still trembling, but the tingling sensation had passed. He looked down at the open lock that now hung loosely from the book. Carefully, Sam opened the ivy clasp and slid the book free.
Butterflies ricocheted around in his stomach, and his heart pounded so hard against his chest that he could see his hand twitching. He wasn’t sure if he was supposed to see what was inside this book but he had to know more. He took the golden leaf that protected the corner and tried to open the book.
Sam soon realized that the book wasn’t a book at all, but rather a storage box of some kind. He lifted the lid of the unusual box and looked inside. It was lined in black velvet and smelled of lavender. Inside were several items: a silver ring, a photograph, a small scroll of parchment, and a leather pouch.
He picked up the ring and held it in his hand. It was large, heavy, and would definitely not fit the finger of anyone in his family. He examined it carefully; there was a ruby red jewel in the center of a star that was surrounded by a thin circle. Four smaller elemental symbols were engraved around the ring. First the mirror in the cave, then the book, and now the ring—all with the same element signs. Fear crept through Sam as he worked through the similarities. There were too many coincidences; they had to be linked somehow. But how?
How did the book get here? Did the stranger outside his window put it in the garage, or was he looking for it? Why were the elemental symbols on the mirror and the box and the ring? Sam sat on the floor, staring at the ring. Finally, he placed it back in the box and removed the photo.
It was a black-and-white picture of a small cottage with a lamp post in the center of the yard. There was a small sign that hung from the post but he couldn’t make out what it said. It looked like a nice place; peaceful, he thought.
Sam placed the picture back in the box and removed the pouch. It was made of black leather with a gold drawstring. It was heavy and from the sound it made as Sam picked it up, there was something inside.
Sam set the box on the floor and held the pouch in one hand. With the other he gently pulled on the pouch until it opened. Slowly, he emptied out some of the contents into his hand. A few black, triangular crystals slid out. They were thin and about six inches in length. They looked like they were made of Onyx; he could tell because of the thin gray swirls that ran throughout them. Sam would recognize Onyx anywhere; it was his father’s birthstone. He took out the rest of the crystals from the pouch and counted them. There were eleven in all.
He looked back into the box to see if he was missing one but he wasn’t. That’s strange, he thought, why eleven? He was expecting an even number. Most things came in pairs, but perhaps one had been lost, or maybe they could be used individually, whatever they did.
Sam placed the crystals
back into the pouch and put it back into the box. Next he took out the scroll of parchment. He pulled on the small blue ribbon that held the scroll tight. The paper loosened as the ribbon fell back into the box. It was old and felt thick to the touch. He gently took the edge of the scroll and unrolled it with both hands.
Sam could see it was a hand-written letter. To his surprise, it was addressed to his mother.
He looked back at the box and then back at the letter. His skin began to prickle with sudden awareness. This is Mom’s box, not the stranger’s.
Why in the world would his mother be hiding this in the first place? What made this box and its contents so important that she felt the need to keep it a secret? What was she afraid of? Sam looked back down at the letter, and began to read it.
Dear Alisa,
I was just thinking of you and how much fun we had in Mr. Dolen’s class the other day! I don’t think I have ever laughed so hard in my life. Who would have known that you could screw up a Calling test so badly. You had Mr. Dolen screaming and running around like crazy. To be honest, I didn’t know he could move that fast. That’s what I love about you Alisa—you are always good for a laugh.
Anyway, I will miss you over winter break. Have fun meeting Rylan’s parents—I know they’ll love you! Write me when you can!
Love you!
Holly
P.S.
Just in case you want to practice the Calling again, remember, Narravista.
Sam read and reread the letter, trying to make sense of it. It must have been from an old classmate of hers when she was a kid.
None of this made any sense; this was just a letter from a school friend, so why hide it?
The questions were staring to pile up and things were becoming more complicated. There were disappearing people outside Sam’s house, and now there was magic everywhere he turned. He knew he was getting in over his head and it was time to tell his mother.
He would never forgive himself if the stranger harmed someone in his family. Whoever or whatever was lurking outside was a threat; that much he had decided. Why else would this person be spying on him? This time, he would have to make his mother listen. Besides, she had some explaining of her own to do. She was the one who had told him to clean the garage, and she had hidden this box from him and Sarah. After all, it’s not like he went looking for it. He found it doing what she asked him to do in the first place, and now she would have to explain the box, and the magic behind it.
Sam looked back down at the scroll and focused on the sentence about the Calling. What is a Calling? he wondered. And what does Narravista mean?
“Nar-ra-vista,” he said slowly, trying to sound the word out.
“Narravista!” he said again more quickly.
Suddenly a large crash rang out over head. Sam lunged forward, thinking the ceiling was caving in. But it wasn’t. He turned quickly to see the baseball that he had tossed into a paint bucket earlier spinning near the ceiling.
Sam’s mouth fell open; he dropped the letter and spun around to take a better look. The ball went flying to the left side of the garage, slamming into the wall and splintering the wood on impact. It was spinning so fast that wisps of smoke began to appear from the friction against the wall.
Sam fell back on the floor in shock. The baseball shot to the ground slamming into the floor and back to the ceiling above him.
Just then, Travis rounded the corner of the garage, smiling. “Well, it looks like someone’s been busy,” he said, looking around at the clean garage.
“Travis, look out!” Sam yelled.
Travis looked over just in time to see the speeding baseball heading toward him.
“Holy crap!”
He fell to the ground as the ball shot past him like a missile, missing him by inches.
The ball blasted through the stacked boxes, sending clothes flying into the air. Then it shot out of the garage, up to the roof of the house, and back toward the ground.
“What in the world was that?” Travis yelled.
“I don’t know! I don’t know what’s happening!” Sam said as he rolled over onto his stomach trying to get up.
Without warning the ball came crashing down through the ceiling of the garage. Wood and shingles fell from the roof around Sam. The ball bounced on the floor and shot through the lawn chair, ricocheting back toward Travis.
Travis rolled right dodging the baseball as it pierced another stack of boxes, sending Legos and Barbie body parts in all directions.
“How can we stop it?” Travis asked, rolling into a corner of the garage.
“I don’t know! Sam yelled, turning onto his back to get up again.
The ball exploded through the roof once more, sending the bikes that were hanging on hooks crashing down on Sam’s legs. Sam quickly covered his face as debris rained down around him. A large wooden beam from the roof had pinned the bikes on top of him.
Travis quickly got to his feet and pressed his back to the wall, avoiding the spinning baseball at all costs.
“Sam!” he called out. “Don’t move! It’s right by you!”
Sam lay there frozen; he could hear the hum of the baseball cutting through the air as it spun directly above him. Seconds passed before he felt brave enough to peek through his hands and look at the spinning baseball, hovering just inches above his face.
He could feel the cool breeze wafting off the spinning ball and smell the leather in the air. The ball was moving so fast that the red stitching had become a blur. Sam was scared to move, not knowing what the ball would do next. His foot was stuck in the spokes of the bike and beads of sweat were trailing down the side of face.
Unsure what to do, Sam moved as quickly as he could by placing his hands at his sides and trying to roll to the right, but it was no use. He was pinned down. The ball shot toward the far side of garage and collided into the tools hanging on the wall. Clanking and clattering rang out as the tools came crashing down on the concrete floor.
“Sam!” Travis said. “Are you all right?”
Sam tried to move his legs again but they wouldn’t budge under the weight of the beam and the bikes. He was stuck but it didn’t feel like he was injured.
“Yeah, I think so, but my legs are stuck!” he said.
Travis paused and watched the spinning baseball eat away at the wall as Sam flailed under the weight of the bikes. When he rolled right, the ball moved right. As Sam reached for the bikes and tried to move them off his legs, the ball flew to floor in front of him. Sam reacted by flinging himself back down on the floor and as he did the ball flew back to the right of the garage and slammed into the wall again.
Travis watched intently, his eyes scrutinizing every move Sam made. He didn’t notice it at first because he assumed the ball was trying to attack Sam. All his attention had been focused on the flying ball. But now that he was watching Sam he could tell the ball wasn’t trying to attack him—it was following him. The ball was reacting to Sam’s movements. Sam was controlling the ball!
“Sam!” Travis yelled out. “I think the ball is following you!”
“What? What do you mean?” Sam asked.
“It’s following you! Maybe your hands, I’m just not sure which one!”
Sam moved his left hand but nothing happened. The ball stayed still, spinning on the wall.
“Sam, try your right hand!” Travis said, crouching down into the corner.
Sam swung his right hand around to the back of the garage and the ball followed, shooting through the air until it hit the back wall of the garage.
Sam’s mind was racing. If he could control it, surely he could stop it.
He slowly moved his hand in front of him, as if to guide the ball into the center of the garage. The spinning baseball followed. It was now hovering just a few feet in front of him.
Sam stared at the baseball, trying to concentrate; maybe it was as simple as saying stop, he thought.
“STOP!” he yelled out.
But nothing happened. T
he ball continued to spin.
“Um, now what?” Travis said hastily.
“I’m not sure!” Sam replied.
“Try something else, like halt or land!”
Sam thought of the letter. If the word Narravista made this happen, maybe it will make it stop too.
“Narravista!” Sam yelled out.
The ball abruptly stopped spinning and fell to the ground.
“That’s it, you did it!” Travis cried out.
He sprang up, ran to Sam’s side and carefully helped to remove the wooden beam and bikes that had fallen on top of Sam. Sam moaned as he staggered to his feet.
“Are you okay?” Travis asked.
Sam brushed himself off and surveyed the damage around him. The garage had two gaping holes in the roof and splintered wood on both sides of the walls. The lawn chair, the bikes, and all the boxes he had packed and stacked earlier were destroyed.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m okay,” he said grudgingly, “but my mom’s going to kill me!”
“Sam, what happened? I mean, you were controlling that baseball, you were making it fly! It was like you were using—” Travis voice stopped abruptly. He didn’t want to say it; the word scared him now, but what else could it be?
“Magic,” Sam said calmly.
He saw the look on Travis face; it was that same look he’d had back in the cave. The look of anxiety and bewilderment all rolled into one.
“Yeah, magic,” Travis said reluctantly.
Sam could tell it was the last word he wanted to use, but what else could you call it? He needed to make sense of this, he had to or he was going to lose his mind.
“I think it has to do something with the box I found in the wall.”
“In the wall? What box? Where?” Travis asked. Now he was curious.
Sam pointed to the back of the garage at the box next to the open panel in the wall.
“How did that get there?” Travis asked.
“I think it’s my mom’s,” he said.
Travis turned around, his eyes wide and his mouth half open in disbelief. “Your mom’s?”