Lives of Magic (Seven Wanderers Trilogy)

by Lucy Leiderman

  Finally, we managed to move the stone and ran into the square chamber. The scene in front of me made my stomach drop to the floor. Bodies littered the ground. The slaves of the magicians had been poisoned to keep their secrets. Two bodies lay in heavy robes on a pedestal. Their long beards and hair, as well as the blue paint covering their bodies, identified them as the magicians. The two men lay with their eyes open staring at the stone ceiling, goblets in their hands. A fire was dying out, burning low around them. Heavy rings adorned each finger and golden circlets wound around their necks. We were too late.

  Dread lurched over me as we found a slave still living. I turned my back as the information was forced from him. The ritual of sending the spirit through time had been done — the magicians would wait out the threat from our tribe and the Romans and would return once more. Our group returned to our own lands, defeated.

  The scene moved quickly to the king ordering our group to die. His voice shook and tears filled his eyes as he made the decision. The Romans would win, and he was forcing his own son to be a ritual sacrifice for our cause. The fury pulsed inside me again as I argued and was silenced. I found Seth. We disagreed with the king. We wanted to live our lives together. We made a plan to run away.

  The night our group was to be sacrificed in hopes of defeating the magicians, we were to meet in the forest at our usual spot. I packed a few belongings and bundled a cloak around me to block the chill. My horse waited for me. I knew in my heart I would be needed here. In this time. I did not want to leave this life. Before I could reach my horse, heavy hands grabbed me from behind.

  My husband, who had suspected me but had feared my magic, guessed my plans. He threw me to the ground and advanced. I used my magic to deter him but he was not swayed. He kept coming, and we fought. He landed a blow to my ribs and I swept his feet out from under him. I placed a knee on his chest and his head hit the ground. He came after me again and wrapped heavy hands around my neck.

  I was weaponless. My magic would not work on him at this proximity and everything else was out of reach. Frantic, I dug in my pockets. My fingers found a wooden figurine of a seahorse. Seth had carved it for me. Its long shape made it sharp. I pulled it from my pocket and stabbed blindly. Blood spurted onto my face as I managed to lodge the figurine in Augren’s neck. His eyes widened, stunned, and he fell onto me.

  I pushed him off. No time to think about what I had done. I was late.

  I rode hard to where the trail thinned in the forest, then jumped off of my horse and ran. Here I recognized the road. My present self made the connection. This is where I was running in all of my memories. Through the undergrowth of the forest, the familiar emotions swept over me and threatened to consume me. Finally, after what felt like ages, I emerged in the clearing but Seth was already gone.

  When I didn’t arrive, he must have thought I had gone back to the ritual. He had good reason to think that I had made this plan to protect him — sacrificing myself in the process. I had considered it but become selfish at the last moment, deciding that being together would eventually numb the knowledge of having betrayed our tribe.

  I began to run again, though the weight of what I was about to do pressed on me and weighed down my limbs. He would sacrifice himself, and I had no reason to live if he was gone. I wanted to die.

  I used my magic to speed my running as my breath came in short gasps to my lungs. The woods eventually began to thin and I spotted a small hill in the distance with a ring of fire burning high. People were gathered around, but no one approached. The fire spurred me onwards, fearing I would be late. I nearly flew to the top of the hill as my magic carried me. Shouts followed, either warning to stay away or encouraging me to go forward. I could see six heads beyond the fire, performing the magic together. The ritual was old. There were no guarantees it would work. I kept running.

  As the fire sizzled my skin and I felt the heat on my face, I ignored the smell of burning hair and used my last bit of magic to shield myself from the flames. I came into the circle just in time to see Seth turn and his expression change from grim to hopeful. He extended a hand to me and I took it, joy finding its way into my soul for the first time in a long time. The fire stayed with me and I felt my magic absorb it, settling it into me. Then everything came to an end.

  I awoke on the ground just as the others were beginning to sit up. Night had fallen and there was no moon to light the landscape. It took a few seconds for the cold to set in, but once it did I found myself shaking uncontrollably. We had been out here all day. The knowledge of everything I had just witnessed poured down on me like a heavy rain, and the repercussions danced through my mind.

  I felt the fire inside me, just as I had before the memories ended. I used it to heat myself, and slowly my shaking abated. The feeling of a growing magic settled on me. I felt the power course through my veins. The change would have been immense for the old Gwen, but I had just seen my past play out. I had lived in my body for a lifetime, and the magic felt like home now.

  Seth stood and offered me a hand. I took it. We had set off the memories by being open, by coming here and by trying to recover our lives. But the ritual had involved us linking our bodies and our magic. I realized we had all held hands and linked on the hill, out of sheer coincidence. It had opened us up to the past.

  Garrison said something about wanting to climb to the plateau, and Seth and Moira went with him. I, however, couldn’t wait to tell Kian. I was surprised he hadn’t come to check on us. While the others climbed higher, this time on steady feet with magic pulsing around them, I headed down the hill to the cottage.

  Each step I took felt like I floated. My mind felt expanded. I knew so much more now. There was no way I could retain my old human brain and absorb it all. I was more than that now. My magic coursed through my veins and I couldn’t help but think that the old Gwen would find it painful. This new Gwen found it energizing.

  I didn’t stop to think once about if this was who I wanted to become — it had happened. Kian had led me here and I couldn’t wait to tell him that his mission had been successful. We were stronger and not enslaved — yet. We had died having hope that it would all work out. This time we were going to do it right.

  The fears about losing myself presented themselves as small pangs in my chest, grounding me to this life and reminding me about the importance of being human. But each breath I took brought the focus back to my senses, which were ringing with anticipation. The cold coastal wind billowed around me and I felt that with a twist of my hand I could control it, turn it into a gale or make it disappear. Control was mine.

  I knew the feeling was only temporary. Once I would fit the magic into my own skin it would be like how I had gotten used to the vibration in New York. This feeling of wonder would pass and I would be faced with the reality of being hunted. Yet everything felt different now. Better. As if I had only been half of myself before.

  I had absorbed my terrible past, the person I had been, the deceit, and my death. I had gone through the fire and come out on the other side. Now I was finally intact. The power made me cocky and careless. I’ll admit it. But the magic fed my confidence like kindling in a fire.

  I approached the cottage and was confused to find the fire in the hearth had gone out. The lights were also extinguished. Without the warmth of a presence inside of it, the small building gave off an eerie and foreboding impression.

  Struggling with the latch, I pushed the door ajar and entered the tiny living space. Our stuff was shoved into every corner and littered every tabletop. The evidence of life made me feel a little less nervous in the dark. A smell hung in the air as if someone had tried to clean. I rolled my eyes at Moira’s attempts and then remembered she had been on the hill with me.

  I was about to turn on the lights when a rustling in the dark startled me. I stepped back immediately against the door. Kian was sitting at the table. I was relieved to find him here. I couldn’t wait to tell him about my discovery. He would be proud.


  I approached him but my smile faded as I saw that he was hunched over the tabletop, his head in his hands, and his shoulders shook. He was crying. My knees went weak. I didn’t know how to handle the situation, and news that would cause him to break down must be something I really didn’t want to know.

  “Kian, what’s the matter?” I tried to mask the concern in my voice.

  He stood, causing the wooden chair to grate against the floor and send shivers down my spine. “Nothing,” he replied shakily.

  I didn’t believe him in the least, so I walked in the dark until I stood in front of his silhouette.

  “I get it now,” I told him. To my surprise, my voice shook. “We all do. We’re strong again. It wasn’t about remembering how we lived, but why we chose to die.”

  Silence. I had expected more questioning, but nothing came.

  His reaction was beginning to worry me. Why wouldn’t he be happy? This was what he had wanted.

  “I have my magic now. I feel it. I’ve got it back. All of it.”

  “I know,” he replied shakily. “I’m sorry.”

  Before I could react he spun me around and held me with my back to his chest in a tight grip. Not tight enough to hurt — I felt like he was hugging me against my will. I opened my mouth to protest but he pressed a damp cloth to my face, covering my mouth and nose.

  My world went black.

  Chapter Thirty

  I didn’t know how long I spent in the delirious stage between sleep and wakefulness. Images blurred before my eyes and my head lolled from side to side. I felt like my mouth had been stuffed with cotton. Thoughts flew by, but I couldn’t grab hold of a single one to make any sense of my situation.

  Finally, I opened my eyes. My mind functioned with a small level of coherence. While bright lights made me squint, I could not tell if it was day or night. Cream-coloured velvet stretching from the high ceiling to the floor covered what I assumed were large Victorian windows. The rest of the room, or what I could see of it, was just as lavishly decorated. Around me, plush sofas and armchairs were arranged, and a dark, oversized mahogany desk stood bare.

  I was sitting on a hard wooden chair, and though my body ached and protested, I couldn’t move into a more comfortable position. I looked down to see my feet tied with a thick coil of rope, which seemed out of place in the posh office. A rich yellow and green carpet covered the floor. I tried my hands, but those were tied too. I could feel my wrists were rubbed raw. Every small move hurt as the fibres of the robe cut into me.

  I licked my dry lips and forced my mind to concentrate, closing my eyes to block out the distractions of the room and my situation. Inside, I was torn.

  One half was the girl who had been kidnapped in Oregon. She was starting to panic and tears threatened to spill from her eyes. The knowledge of being drugged and kidnapped again was frightening, but the memory of Kian brought a whole new pain to her chest. Confusion, heartbreak, and exhaustion clouded her judgment. She wanted to give up.

  I focused on the other half as she smouldered with a fury and determination that might actually get me through this. This was the woman who had lived two thousand years ago and whose life I had witnessed — how long ago? I had no idea how much time had passed. Her emotions were raw with being deceived and captured. Basic survival instincts forced me to assess my situation. I needed help.

  The image of Seth came to my mind. His appearances melded, young and old, as my memories of him then and now made one distinct whole. I felt the magic beginning to pulse inside me as I thought of him and called in my mind. I let my last memories seep into the stream of magic, as well as my helplessness and despair. My concentration was suddenly broken when I heard a door open behind me.

  “Oh no you don’t, my little witch.”

  My eyes flung open, and it took restraint to keep from swivelling my chair in a panic. The room before me held no entrance or exit. I could hear a large door creaking behind as several sets of footsteps approached.

  It was a man’s voice, smooth and deep, but it held a touch of anger and magic that I wondered if I would have been able to detect without regaining my memories. His American accent with a Southern drawl made me wonder where I was.

  The footsteps became lighter as my captors came onto the carpet. They stood just beyond my vision and I refused to turn and give them the satisfaction of seeing me agitated.

  “She is not the child I found anymore,” another voice said. “She should be destroyed. I smell the old one in her.”

  I couldn’t help but wince at the windows. This voice was older and rougher, with an accent that made it hard to understand him. His words ended on an up note and had a strange yet familiar rhythm.

  Dread crept into my thoughts. I fought the despair that threatened to show my feelings.

  A spot of sun winked at me from behind the thick curtain, and I knew it was daytime — which day was still a mystery. I had been passed out for at least twelve hours.

  “Gwyneth,” the smooth voice spoke again, “this is what I need from you. You must understand that you have contributed to my death once already. And I have contributed to yours. So the cycle must stop.”

  I stayed quiet, biting my tongue and suppressing all of the questions that threatened to break free. These men were trying to make me uncomfortable and scared. They stood behind me to frighten me, and I refused to give in. Several quiet moments passed before I heard a sigh.

  “Go,” Smooth Voice said.

  I heard a shuffle as if someone was being pushed, and my heart sped up anticipating an attack. Instead, Kian came to stand in front of me.

  I opened my mouth, ready to yell, scream, and insult. But I shut it once I realized this was just another way to rile me. A steady voice in my mind told me to stay calm. I wasn’t dead yet. They wanted something. They played these games for a reason. With effort, I swallowed my accusations.

  Had I not known him well, I would not have recognized Kian as he was now. The confidence in his posture was gone. His shoulders drooped and he hung his head, looking more like a bird of prey with his long nose and hunched back. He dragged his feet and refused to meet my gaze. When he stood before me, he could not delay any longer and slowly raised his gaze from my feet to my face. When our eyes met, he winced as if I had struck him.

  Everything I had liked about him was gone. Something switched off in my mind and I felt a cold resolve settle over me. I steadied my gaze and felt my jaw tighten with anger.

  “Gwen, I —” He stopped, dropping his eyes to the floor again. When he did not appear likely to say any more, a third voice behind me urged him with a hurried tone. At least three men and Kian held me captive.

  “I don’t know what to say,” Kian mumbled to the ground.

  It was my turn to retort. A thousand mean things flitted through my mind, but I realized I needed to gather as much information as possible if I hoped to escape.

  “The truth,” I spat out, “start with the truth.”

  He had once said those words to me, and by the tortured look on his face it was clear he remembered. No matter how I tried to control my voice, the drug and my anger made it husky and rough. I hoped I sounded dangerous. Afraid to gather magic again, in case one of the magicians behind me sensed it, I stayed prone and deadpan.

  Kian refused to speak, and I wondered who would outlast the silence. Finally, I felt footsteps nearing. Two men came to stand on either side of him. A third lingered off to the side, watching.

  The first two looked like normal men, though they stood out for their choice of expensive-looking suits and shoes, and the golden tie clips, chains, and watches that adorned them.

  The one in the black suit had thinning black hair, which began around his ears and wound its way around his head, leaving the top bare. His eyes shone with an anticipation that made me nervous. The grey-suited man had a full head of grey hair, but his most striking feature was his piercing blue eyes. I knew right away this was the man with the smooth voice.

  The magi
cian who lingered off to the side looked out of place, wearing an oversize collared blue shirt and black pants. His long, curly black hair hung past his shoulders and a thick beard obscured the lower half of his face. Though he had tried to adapt to modern clothing, a worn and dirty heavy brown robe hung from his shoulders.

  It looked like the other two had tried to dress him appropriately, but he had refused, and his strange appearance could explain why he stood apart, his eyes darting around and his fingers tapping nervously against his leg.

  I assessed the men with what I hoped looked like cold calculation. Kian had said they were influential. Perhaps even government figures. If I ever cared about the news, I might have recognized them. But they were complete strangers to me.

  When the silence became strained, the balding man with black hair approached me. He stopped and lowered his face within inches of mine, and I fought my own instinct to recoil.

  “I can almost see her,” he said. It was unclear to whom he spoke, but he also possessed an American accent with a southern twang. “Gwyneth, my colleagues and I were happy to leave you and your kind alone in the past, where you should have stayed. You are in our world now. It is only fair that we may use your strength.”

  I didn’t quite understand what he was talking about but remembered Kian’s words about being enslaved. When the one who had been speaking to me stepped back, I felt a small push of magic urging me to agree with him. It trapped me in his words and moulded my point of view. I pushed back at it, forcing it away from me. Being brainwashed sent the panic back into my throat.

  “What do you want?” I asked through gritted teeth.

  As I pushed back, the magic strengthened like a brick wall, crushing my resolve. It was strong and I didn’t know how to fight it. Fear kept me pushing. Sweat ran into my eyes and I was short of breath. It felt like ages had passed but in reality only seconds. Then, as suddenly as it had begun, it stopped. Despite myself, I exhaled in relief.