“I’m sorry,” he continued, “but I can’t trust you. You claim you’re looking for an ally but you’ve treated me like a pawn. Everything that means anything to me is on Earth: my friends, my family…my whole life.”
Haldorum was silent for a time. He looked into Steve’s eyes, who reflected confusion, fear, and longing back at him.
“I see,” he said at last. Lurin looked as though he wished to speak but Haldorum silenced him with a gesture. To Steve he said, “What of your familiar?”
“My what? Oh.“ Steve glanced down at the tiger, a look of profound disappointment on his face. The tiger nudged him affectionately and Steve patted the powerful beast on one shoulder. “He was born in the wild; I think he should stay there.” He lifted his chin then and inhaled deeply. “Scott and I will make up some story to explain to Mr. Martin. I’m sure he’s wondering what happened to both his students and his heirloom. We’ll just have to play everything else by ear.”
“What will you do?” Haldorum asked. “Azinon will not give up his pursuit of you. Not so long as you threaten his power here.”
Steve reached up behind his neck and unfastened the clasp to the pendant. He took the old wizard’s hand and placed it firmly in his open palm. “Here,” he said. “This should have been given to you in the first place. You’re the one with real power here. Maybe this will help you add to it.”
Haldorum opened his mouth to speak, but could not find the words, then looked about to try again but Steve shook his head.
“If Azinon wants this so badly then he’ll have to go through a real wizard to get it now. Judging by the pounding he gave me the last time we met, I’m guessing you could give him a better fight.”
Haldorum smiled sadly and then said, “Yes, I suppose I could.” He tucked the pendant away inside his robe and turned away. Holding his hands outstretched before him, he focused his will in a narrow line and poured forth the magic to give it shape. A glowing blue, vertical seam appeared in the air and as the wizard’s hands slowly parted the seam widened into a glowing rectangular doorway in the fabric between worlds.
Haldorum turned back and, though clearly saddened, he smiled again and shook Steve’s hand. “Your return trip will be less exciting than your arrival.”
Steve huffed once through his nose with a half smile.
Scott edged closer to the portal and waved a hand through. When he felt nothing, he held his breath and stepped in, immediately disappearing from view.
Steve waited a few moments and then darted away to vanish within the glowing reaches of the portal. The tiger bounded for the doorway after him but Haldorum sealed the rift, and it was gone.
Chapter V
Scott walked down the halls of Federal Way High School, his eyes scanning the crowd. At lunchtime the halls were always congested with half the student body lingering in one place or another, and today was no exception. Scott maneuvered through the throngs of students, turning his shoulders and sidestepping with practiced ease.
Though he searched all the same, it was unlikely he would find his friend amongst the busy crowd. After traversing the length of the main hall without success, which cut through the entire school, he turned out of the stream of bodies and then up the stairs to the one remaining area he had yet to rule out: the English department.
It had been a full week since the two of them had returned from Mithal and, since day one, Steve had been unsuccessful in getting through to Amy. At first, it had seemed a small matter; after all, a day or two without answer to her cell was atypical but no cause for concern. But that was when he believed she would get his message and return his call. As the days passed, however, and still no contact, Steve became increasingly worried. He called their home repeatedly after that, but was turned aside each time by either Amy’s mother or father. With each passing sunset, Steve’s mood had become increasingly more morose.
Scott emerged at the top of the stairs and then turned down the long, brown-carpeted hallway of the English department. He glanced into each of the classrooms as he passed, finding most of them empty, as they were off limits to the lunchtime crowd. Scott knew Steve too well, however, to believe an inconvenient rule—not to mention one only casually enforced—was going to deter him. Besides, it was the perfect time and place to go during the school day when you wanted to be alone.
Scott continued his scans of the rooms as he passed by. In the fourth, three sophomores were studying and eating their lunches together, cramming for a test that would find them later in the day.
“Bitch!” Scott swore aloud when the next class proved as fruitless as the last. Though Steve refused to admit it to himself, Scott knew the truth of it. She wanted to dump his friend—which was fine; if she didn’t think it was going to work out it was, in fact, what she should do, but there were much kinder ways of going about it. Scott shook his head as he reflected on his friend’s situation, and vowed he would never let a woman get under his skin like that. It was obviously just too damn much trouble.
Just then Scott had a thought. There was still one place he had not looked.
Steve heard the hinge on the door to the metal shop class creak as it opened, and he knew without looking who had entered behind him.
“Everything cool?” Scott asked.
“You’ll have to excuse me if I’m not the best company right now,” Steve said without turning, He idly turned the plastic fork from his half-eaten lunch end over end from his forefinger, down to his pinky, then back up again.
Scott effected a wan smile and walked around to seat himself on the desktop in front of his friend, his feet on the seat of the chair and facing the other side of the spacious workshop filled with all manner of work tables, tool boxes stacked with drawers neatly organized with hand and power tools, and larger drill presses, band saws and other assorted equipment for working with wood and metal.
“You know, I never liked her very much anyway.” When Steve didn’t respond he asked, “Is there anything I can do?”
Steve gestured with a thumb over his shoulder, “Yeah, I could use a little help pulling this knife out of my back.”
Scott laughed, or at least started to, but then stopped when Steve didn’t join him. “You’re right,” he apologized. “Wasn’t really funny.” He drummed his fingers on his knee in the awkward silence and then, “Is this really worth all the grief you’re putting yourself through? Come on, Steve, she’s only a girl.”
Steve snorted, shaking his head.
“What? You know I’m right.”
Steve sat up so suddenly it startled his friend and he said with a mocking smile, “No, unfortunately, you’re only half right.” He opened his mouth to say more and then changed his mind. Instead, he slowly sank back into his seat again.
“I don’t get it,” Scott said then. “If all this isn’t about Amy then what the heck is going on?”
“I never said that wasn’t part of it,” Steve replied. “She’s the reason I feel like somebody’s stomped on my guts, yes; but…”
“Okay, now you’ve lost me.”
Steve tossed his plastic fork away idly and it plinked off the tile floor a few feet away. “Just forget it.”
Scott looked at him sidelong. “You’re leading me along, Steve. Why don’t you just come right out with it and tell me what’s up?”
“Leave. Me. Alone,” was the stepped reply. “It’s bad enough you got involved in the first place, but now—“ He realized he said too much even as the words escaped his lips. He looked aside and silently chastised himself. He knew better than to let his feelings run his mouth—ever—but the last few days had his emotions brimming. He felt like each and every one was overflowing and mixing together, ebbing and flowing unpredictably in a fight for dominance.
Scott perked. “What? What did I get involved in?”
Steve pushed aside his train of thought with a low growl and addressed his friend. “What part of ‘forget it’ don’t you understand?
“You’re talking about las
t weekend?”
Steve remained stubbornly silent but it spoke volumes.
“Steve, what is the big deal? I was there, for crying out loud. You gave the crystal to Haldorum, the cat’s in the wild, they all promised to leave you alone. End of story. Game over.”
Steve got out of his seat and paced the aisle. He had already spoken too much so it seemed there was little reason now to keep his problem a secret. Besides, in his current state of mind, if he didn’t talk about it with someone he just knew he was going to explode.
“It’s not over,” he muttered. “I’m in serious trouble—along with you, Amy, my parents, and everyone else who has anything to do with me.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Me, damn it!” he spat out, both hands bouncing off his chest. “I’m talking about me! I gave the crystal away—for nothing!” This last word echoed across the wood and metal shop like a mocking ghost. He paused a moment to calm himself and take a breath. In a moment, he said more softly, “I can still…do things.”
Scott looked puzzled. He said nothing for several moments, and seemed on more than one of them as if to say something, only to remain quiet for several moments more. Finally, “Do things?” he asked. “What kind of things?”
“Two things,” Steve explained. “I can—I can move things from a distance.”
“As in telekinesis?” Scott breathed the word in disbelief. “No way!”
Steve held out his hand to the plastic fork he had tossed to the floor. It had bounced and come to rest a few feet away, only now it rose from the floor as if lifted by an invisible hand. Scott watched in utter amazement as it floated to his friend.
“Yes way,” Steve said. He plucked the implement out of the air and then snapped the fork with his thumb before dropping both pieces. “I just have to think about it. It’s like I can feel it, even though it is far away, and then I just pick it up.”
Scott got up slowly from the desktop, his eyes looking beyond the floor as a flurry of thoughts raced through his head. With a clap of his hands, “This is great!”
Steve was incredulous. “What the hell are talking about?! Scott, Azinon didn’t come after me just because he wanted the crystal, he wanted to wipe me out because I might have helped Haldorum. If he even suspects I’m not entirely without some kind of ability, what’s to stop him from coming after me again?”
Scott’s smile waned at that revelation. “Right, there is that.”
Steve cocked his head to the side and cast him a look that clearly spoke that much should have been obvious. Then he said, “And even if I hide he can still go after my friends and family to draw me out.”
Scott nodded. “Yeah, classic movie bad guy move. This isn’t good.”
“You’re right, it isn’t.”
Now Scott was up and pacing, muttering to himself as he went. After a minute he stopped. “We definitely gotta’ figure something out. What about the other thing you said you could do?”
“I don’t know what to call it,” Steve replied. “When I touch someone I can…sense their thoughts. And I can send them as well; thoughts, feelings, even make someone move the way I want.” He shrugged, “Whatever you want to call it, I found that one out by accident playing with my little brother.”
Scott considered this a moment and then shook his head. “That’s certainly interesting, but I don’t think it’ll help us. I was hoping you could blow stuff up or something.”
Steve rolled his eyes. “Will you get real?”
“Hey, I saw Firestarter; besides, what’s real here anymore? I was hoping.”
The five-minute warning bell sounded, the signal for all on first period lunch to start moving to their next class.
Steve picked up his Styrofoam tray and tossed it idly into the garbage can on his way out of the classroom. He paused with the door open. “Come on. We can talk about this later.”
The rest of the day was passing agonizingly slowly. And with his mind preoccupied on his life’s most recent complication, Steve certainly wasn’t absorbing anything either. Each hour he moved at a snail’s pace through a slowly moving day; slow enough to arrive five minutes late to his sixth period creative writing class. He entered and then moved to his seat, feeling the weight of a dozen pair of eyes of thirty students in the class who managed to notice the latecomer. Despite his distaste for showing up late to anything, Steve was too preoccupied right now to care. Uncomfortable as it was, one pair he did not mind so much: the chestnut brown eyes of Sonya Lorenson.
Man, she is gorgeous, Steve thought, taking a momentary break from shouldering the weight of the world. She smiled at him, which he briefly returned.
The arrangement of the students’ desks formed a horseshoe that stretched along three of the four walls of the room, the instructor’s desk centered on the fourth but facing the chattering students.
His teacher glanced at his watch as he passed. “Nice to see you could make it,” Mr. Nicoletta chastised, his tone of voice clearly indicating tardiness wasn’t something the young man should make a habit of.
“Sorry.” Steve placed his notebook beneath his chair and then glanced around the room as ‘Mr. Nic’, as he was commonly referred to, returned to the roll call.
Medieval pictures of King Arthur, Sir Lancelot, and others depicting scenes of knights and their noble deeds hung on the wall behind his instructor’s desk. The other three walls, left to the discretion of the students, displayed posters of rock bands, movies, and film stars, but it was the superimposed image of a tiger over Bruce Lee that caught and held Steve’s attention. He knew it was absurd, but somewhere deep inside he missed that beautiful animal he had befriended so briefly. He looked away then, reminding himself one more time how many other more serious distractions he already had on his plate.
Jason Schmidt, probably one of the best high school basketball players in the state, joked and talked with a couple of his friends, his long legs extending well forward of his desk. He was exceptionally tall, with peach skin and dark, short-cropped hair. Across from him sat Ed Miller, a popular black senior who had taken first in state for the hundred yard dash and the high jump his sophomore and junior years both.
It was then Steve realized offhandedly the majority of people in the room made up some of the most talented people in the student body. From Ricco Ybarra, an outstanding drummer who could hammer out beats you’d swear required a third arm, to Rich Gleason, a stereotype of the awkward computer nerd with red unkempt hair, freckled cheeks and glasses but with a mind that conquered on the chessboard, to a half dozen other students who claimed excellence in programing, writing, racing, acting and more.
“All right,” Mr. Nicoletta said over the chatter. “Quiet down.” When the clamor of the students died away, he continued. “Okay, you all knew this day was coming: poems are due. Who wants to read theirs first?”
Jason drew his long legs in with an equally long moan of complaint. “Oh, come on, Mr. Nic. It’s kind of hard to be anonymous when we’re reading our own stuff. I like it better when you read em’ instead.”
Mr. Nicoletta folded his hands on his desk and effected a patient smile. “Not being anonymous is the idea, Jason. I told you all at the beginning of the semester you would eventually read your own material to the class. Well, that day is today.”
Steve reached beneath his desk and retrieved his notebook. Slapping it down on the desktop, he flipped through the pages until finding the poem he wrote the night before. He looked it over and then shook his head with a frown, not sure he liked it. Even a little.
“So who is going to be the brave soul to lead us off?” Mr. Nicoletta asked.
Steve knew from whom he’d like to hear first. He chanced a glance to his right, to Sonya sitting four desks away. Though hardly an expert on poetry himself, she was easily the best writer of prose he had ever heard—and she hadn’t even graduated high school yet. The way she could paint a portrait of words in the mind’s eye and touch on your emotions was nothing short o
f remarkable.
“No volunteers? Okay then, Steve, why don’t you make up for your tardiness by starting us off.”
He turned his attention back at the sound of his name. “What?”
“Your poem,” Mr. Nicoletta said pointing to his notebook. “Why don’t you start us off?”
Steve stood reluctantly and cleared his throat. “It’s a…a free verse poem,” he said. “Admittedly, I didn’t write it until last night. So if it sucks, deal with it.” A low ripple of laughter rolled through the class and with a deep breath, he began:
I have tread through the jungle many times
Each journey has been lonely and full of pain
Yet each teaches me something I had for so long been unaware
I stepped to the tree line and peered in, despite knowing what awaited
Knowing only too well what stood in the way
I told myself it was foolish, an elusive game no one wins
But the lure was too strong to resist
I saw the prize, I wanted to win, I stepped inside
The branches cut and tore at my flesh
I stumbled so many times on the vines in my path
Yet this time the pain was bearable, almost welcome
This time I felt alive, even in the face of the inevitable
Despite the sadness this knowledge brought to my heart
I chose that nothing in God’s Earth would stand in my way
Nothing did
The beauty I found stole my breath away
A lake of crystal blue and impossible purity
The blood and sweat that ran down my body caused me to feel unclean, unworthy
Then a light wind blew across the still waters, whispering to me
Therein I heard songs of passion and pleasure, beauty and peace, love and romance
Thankful, I went to my knees and touched my lips to the cool waters
New strength flowed through my limbs and hope filled my heart
Yet I was too late
For a reflection not my own stared back from the mirror surface
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