Sinners of Magic

by Lynette Creswell

  ‘What did I do?’ Camilla wailed, clearly unaware of the dilemma she’d just caused.

  ‘You followed me here!’ Matt snapped, pointing an accusing finger. ‘And to think, you’ve never read a book in your life!’

  ‘Dad told me where you’d gone actually,’ she blurted, sounding a little hurt. ‘All I wanted was someone to hang out with.’

  Matt bit his lip when he caught her wretched expression.

  ‘It’s time we left,’ he said, dropping his gaze. ‘You’ve done more than enough damage for one day.’ He marched off down the corridor, with Alfie close at his heels.

  ‘Wait!’ she begged, dashing after him. ‘Please don’t leave me in this horrible place all by myself.’

  High above the rafters, hidden from view, Tremlon watched them leave with a quiet mind and a calmer spirit. The king had given him so many responsibilities and there were too many plans to keep secret. He would return to the king and inform him of his first meeting with the princess. She had been so very clever, this young, intelligent, almost magisterial creature, using a natural source of sorcery known only to the antiquated bards who had not existed for thousands of years. He spread his wings, grateful to be able to return to his own kind in one piece and as he vanished, he wondered, not for the first time, if King Gamada actually realised he was playing with fire.

  Chapter 4

  It was nearly a week before Matt managed to see Crystal again. He’d visited the library every day since the episode with Tremlon and his sister, but each time he was disappointed to find there was no sign of her anywhere. Alfie tagged along a couple of times but, finding it boring, eventually produced a feeble excuse so as not to have to go back again.

  Matt stood alone outside the solid structure of the central library. His eyes swept over the large square stones holding this remarkable building together and he was impressed by what he saw. Above the door sat a sombre plaque, both weatherworn and showing signs of age, explaining it had been built in 1801. The huge clock dominating the centre of the building chimed a deep, bellowing welcome.

  Whilst he was studying the impressive architecture, the sky was suddenly hijacked by a flock of pigeons and small, brown birds. Dropping from high above, they swooped to earth, landing on the verges and soft green lawns of the grounds, close to where Matt stood. Their small beady eyes fell on the rich, dark soil in search of small insects and anything remotely edible. Hungrily, they pecked at leftover crumbs and stale crusts dropped by fleeting visitors over the lunchtime period who were in a rush to fill their empty bellies.

  Matt kept a watchful eye, searching for a glimpse of the white dove with the black mark on its wing, but once the ground was clear of every crumb, the birds moved on and so did he. With purpose, he climbed the grey stone steps that led him to the mouth of the library. Swinging the gigantic double door that led into the main hall, he felt its sheer immensity fill him with an overwhelming feeling of insignificance. It had taken him more than a little time to appreciate just how awesome this place really was, but he had gotten there. The perfectly smooth walls were solid, with strong oak beams placed high in the painted ceilings, creaking and groaning a long tune of eeriness whenever anyone dared to enter.

  Matt approached the heart of the library and his pace slowed when he reached the section of books clearly marked ‘W’. He glanced at the famous names written in black and gold, embossed with a firm indent on the spine of each book. Williams, Wodehouse and Wordsworth. None of the authors’ names meant anything to him, yet he knew they should and a stab of ignorance twisted in his gut.

  He reached out and grabbed a book, trying to show a spark of interest. He flicked through the musty pages, unable to focus on the words with his mind being someplace else. Regretting his lack of concentration, he replaced the volume back onto the shelf. He tried again, the tip of his finger moving towards a light, silver binding and he pulled at the spine, but then a sudden movement behind him made him let go. He spun on his heels, his nerves taut with expectancy, but he soon felt foolish when he discovered there was nothing behind him except innocent, fleeting shadows. His breathing was heavy and the small hairs on the back of his neck stood up like soldiers waiting to be inspected. He realised his imagination was running wild and he took a deep breath to calm himself.

  ‘Who’s there?’ he called out, suddenly convinced he wasn’t alone. His eyes moved in search of what made him uneasy, but nothing but silence answered his call. The acute sense of isolation surrounded him, making him aware of his own vulnerability, and he called out once again, his voice sounding on edge.

  ‘Be quiet boy!’ a shrill voice commanded. ‘This is a library, not a playing field.’

  He recognised the voice as belonging to the librarian and he let out a sigh of relief. He peered out into the gloom, but it was clear the librarian was well out of sight.

  ‘I’m outta here,’ he mumbled under his breath, still feeling foolish. ‘There’s nothing here for me but trouble.’ He pursed his lips and started to whistle to give himself courage, but then an elderly man with his ageing wife came into view and Matt let the tune die in his throat. He headed for the bright green signboard that pointed to the exit and, stuffing his hands into the sanctuary of his pockets, he thought about where he could go to kill the rest of the day.

  ‘Were you trying to grab my attention?’ asked a familiar voice. He recognised it immediately and his mouth broke into a broad grin when he saw Crystal appear from behind one of the huge, white pillars.

  ‘Hey, fancy finding you here,’ he said, genuinely pleased to see her. He accepted the welcome of her smile, but he thought she looked tired and a little drawn around the eyes.

  He watched her move to a small writing desk, hidden between two marble columns. A table light throbbed above her head, making her hair glow like fire. Matt stared at her for a moment too long before he spoke, afraid if he said the wrong thing she would disappear again. She was hurting, he could sense it, and he didn’t want to upset her by opening his stupid mouth and saying the wrong thing.

  ‘I’m sorry about what happened the other day,’ he said, trying to strike up a conversation. ‘I know how important it was for you to speak to that bird-thing.’

  Crystal was reading a book and ignoring him.

  ‘So, what have you been doing with yourself?’ he persisted, changing tactics, ‘have you been up to much?’ Her eyes glanced up from the page but she appeared to look straight through him.

  ‘Come on, you must have been doing something!’ Matt gasped, when she still didn’t answer him and she pushed a wisp of her long, thick hair which had fallen across her cheek away from her face instead.

  ‘I’ve just been doing some research,’ she told him when the curl slipped back over her eyes. He felt a shiver run down his spine.

  God, she’s so beautiful, he thought to himself.

  ‘What are you reading?’ he enquired, swallowing hard. Her reaction was guarded and her face was set, resolute, and he instantly regretted asking the question when she snapped shut the cover of a large book and he let out a sigh of frustration.

  ‘What’s so top secret that you can’t tell me?’ he snapped, offended by her actions. Crystal blushed when his eyes flashed with anger.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, lowering her dark lashes. ‘I know I can trust you of all people.’

  Matt heaved a sigh.

  ‘So, are you going to share what you’ve learned with me then?’ he asked, moving to her side. He thought back to that unforgettable day at the lake, knowing he had a lot to thank her for. She had saved him and, in return, he would try and do the same for her – one day.

  Crystal’s eyes clouded.

  ‘I’ve found this old book on mythology,’ she explained, shrugging her shoulders. ‘I thought it might help me understand a little more about sorcery or that bird-man who, if my memory serves me correctly, is called Tremlon.’

  He nodded, remembering the moment when the bird had transmuted before his very eyes.


  ‘None of us will be the same again after seeing him,’ he said, threading his fingers through his hair and pushing it away from his face. Crystal broke into a bitter laugh.

  ‘You’re so right there,’ she said, pushing the thick, leather-bound book towards him. ‘None of us will ever be the same again, especially me.’

  He reached out and felt the cool binding touch his fingertips. His eyes inspected the dark cover. The book smelt of damp and old age, and a bronze clasp in the shape of what looked like a Celtic symbol grasped the numerous pages firmly together. He had never seen a book of this calibre before and it needled him.

  ‘Where’d you find it?’

  ‘In the fantasy section, though I swear I’ve never seen it there before.’

  ‘It’s not like you to miss a book of this size,’ he said, with a smirk that reached his eyes. ‘I thought you said this place was your second home.’

  Crystal pulled a face.

  ‘A mere oversight,’ she said, rising from the chair and motioning for him to sit. ‘Come here and I’ll show you what I’ve found so far.’

  His keenness showed as he obeyed her. The warmth of her body trapped within the wood of the chair made his body tingle.

  ‘You’ve got a warm bum,’ he teased, turning shy. They both giggled; two teenagers learning how to become close friends. A slight draught brushed against his left cheek and he bristled, his eyes alert.

  ‘Did you feel that?’ he asked, spinning in his chair.

  ‘Feel what?’ Crystal replied, her attention returning to the book. She leant over his shoulder and started to thumb through the pages but Matt suddenly felt very ill at ease. He didn’t know if it was because she was so close or if it was because something else was closer still?

  ‘Matt, you okay?’

  ‘No,’ he said, his eyes hooded. ‘I guess it’s just my vivid imagination on overdrive again.’

  Crystal mumbled something about being silly and tried to nudge him out of the way.

  ‘So, what’s so good about this particular book?’ he asked, shuffling his chair to make room for hers.

  ‘Well, for a start the cover is not actually leather, but made of human skin,’ she told him, brushing her fingertips over the odd ripples that covered the surface. ‘If you look closely, you can see all the lines that make up the membrane.’ She had shocked him and Matt recoiled, pulling his own fingers away from the cover, momentarily repulsed.

  ‘That’s disgusting,’ he told her, flatly.

  ‘You don’t believe everything you hear, do you?’ she replied, her eyes filling with amusement.

  Matt bit the inside of his lip. ‘It looks real enough to me,’ he said, feeling his jaw tighten. ‘In fact, it’s bloody gross.’

  ‘It’s just a legend,’ Crystal said, ignoring his outburst. ‘The story goes that the skin represents an influential magician who believed he could one day be brought back from the plateau of the afterlife. His bones were buried in a secret location and he ordered his skin to be peeled and soaked in the amniotic fluid of his first-born son, the water that had protected the foetus in the womb. Once this was done, the skin was turned into parchment before being made into this unique book.’ He shut his eyes and allowed the vision to form behind his lids.

  ‘Nope,’ he said, his eyes still closed, ‘that just doesn’t cut it for me.’

  ‘You have to be more open minded,’ she told him, not the slightest bit amused. ‘After all, if you’re hanging around with me you’re going to have to lose some of your scepticism,’ she added. His face relaxed and he opened his eyes to see hers, bright and wary, fixed on his. He noticed her arms were folded under her small breasts and he blushed before having the decency to look away.

  ‘Anyway, I’ve managed to find out what Tremlon meant when he said I had Oakwood blood,’ she told him, unaware of Matt’s bright-red cheeks.

  ‘Oh yeah, what’s that?’ he asked, thankful for the diversion.

  Crystal laughed.

  ‘Apparently, the bloodline can only be found from the realm of Oakwood wizards.’

  ‘Wow, that sounds very mythical, doesn’t it?’ he said, grinning. ‘So tell me, what evidence have you found telling you all this?’

  Crystal shifted uncomfortably before reaching out and turning the thick vellum to a page she had bookmarked earlier. He felt a slight tremor move through his body at her even closer proximity.

  ‘See here,’ she said, pushing the book right under his nose and pointing to a specific paragraph. He followed her gaze and slid his eyes over the beautiful handwriting, written more than a thousand years ago. The pages were large and thick, and the lettering was amazingly clear considering its age, with sweeping illustrations inscribed with meticulous detail. Matt pulled his chair closer, drinking in the startling information, feeling the enchantment woven within the pages begin to magnetise him, coaxing him to concentrate. He felt a thrill of excitement when he traced his fingers over the thick, gold letter imprinted at the start of each new page. The words were written by a fluent hand, filling him with wonder.

  ‘This is just awesome,’ he murmured, with eyes wide with delight. He brought a finger to his temple in concentration. Silence welled and his mind opened to the spells and charms, lying like a mountain of goodies for him to digest. The faint light of the library unfolded down on him and he was unaware of the dimming surroundings. He turned over the next page, transfixed. Drawings of colourful wizards jumped out of the page at him and the words of sorcery waved like a magic wand before his eyes, creating wonder in his mind. He eventually went back to the paragraph Crystal had earmarked and, glancing up, he pulled the table light closer so he could see the writing more clearly.

  … But there were others, others who were special far beyond what we would call a normal wizard or sorcerer. These wizards were born with incredible powers, which were released with age and maturity. They were given these gifts to protect the ordinary and the extraordinary worlds. We have little knowledge of this band of mages. The evidence we do have tells us they came from the realm of Raven’s Rainbow. These wizards were strong, their sorcery not from the darkness but from the white spear of light. If they disgraced their own kind, the penalty was heavy, possibly even eternal purgatory. However, there has been known to be a slither of leniency, which was not always acceptable to the one who was judged. If the magician was found to be guilty of a crime committed against the realm he could, if granted by the Elders, be pardoned. Banishment was only a minor luxury, but if they so choose, the guilty party would have to give a living part of themselves to the ordinary world. Whatever part they gave had to be done so freely, only then releasing them from their sentence …

  ‘This is pretty heavy stuff,’ sighed Matt, mentally exhausted. ‘No wonder you’re so troubled. Can you imagine having to give away your arm or leg?’

  ‘Well, I’m not completely sure that’s what it means,’ Crystal said, pulling the book away from him and taking her turn to gaze at the paragraph once again. Matt sensed her turmoil.

  ‘We aren’t knowledgeable enough to understand all this,’ he said, trying to ease her confusion, but then he saw a shadow cross over her face.

  ‘Come on, out with it,’ he demanded, his eyes turning to slits. ‘I can see you’re not telling me everything.’

  Caught at a vulnerable moment, Crystal decided to come clean and tell him all about what happened at the lake and the full version of events, followed by her life and her fears of who she might be. She spilled the beans to her newfound friend, having a burning need to release the torment that was eating her up inside.

  Matt listened spellbound for the next few minutes whilst she poured out to him the constant dreams and visions she had suffered since early childhood. She shared with him her innermost secrets of how she had saved him and what she had awakened deep below the surface of the waves. She stopped only to draw breath, exhausted by the rush of words that spilled like wine from her lips. Only a moment’s silence engulfed them before it was sha
ttered by an intruder’s voice.

  Simultaneously Matt and Crystal’s eyes darted into every dark corner and deep recess, having recognised the voice. Uncertainty wafted between them and Crystal worried as to how much the bird-man had overheard.

  ‘And so we are to meet again,’ Tremlon trilled, manifesting before them like a ghost and Matt sprang out of his seat in surprise.

  ‘Bloody hell!’ he said, pointing his finger accusingly. ‘It’s the bird-geezer again. I knew he was here, I felt him creeping about earlier but thought it was just my stupid imagination.’

  Crystal shrank back into the shadows, taking the book with her.

  ‘Don’t worry about that old thing,’ Tremlon said, releasing a sly smirk and pointing to the book. ‘I’m only too pleased you were able to enjoy what’s written inside; I thought it might help you understand our kind more.’

  ‘Why, you scheming son of a bitch!’ she yelled, clutching the book to her chest. ‘I knew it wasn’t there before.’

  Tremlon gave a hearty chuckle and the book was torn from her fingers by an invisible force, landing with a loud thud on the cold stone floor only inches from his feet. Crystal rushed forward in panic, uncertain what he would do next. She desperately wanted to keep the book, but she was too scared to try and retrieve it and so instead it sat like a vast rock between them.

  Tremlon clicked his fingers and the book vanished into thin air. Crystal gasped.

  ‘I’ve merely archived it,’ he said, in a peevish tone, aware of her look of dismay. He clasped his hands together and brought them up to his mouth as though in prayer.

  ‘Crystal, I have a proposition for you,’ he said, cocking his head to one side, unconsciously imitating a bird. He watched for her reaction with curious eyes. ‘Tell me; are you interested in broadening your horizons?’

  She looked bewildered, aware only of her ribs moving up and down as she breathed.