The Painter Mage: Books 1-3

by D. K. Holmberg

  “And you managed to open one of these?” The fact that Hard had opened the door surprised me, but hearing that another door existed and had been opened seemed impossible. Where would these doors lead? It seemed impossible that they would all cross the Threshold to the same place, but why would Arcanus have so many?

  Taylor flipped through the book to the front page. She pointed to the row of symbols. “One of them matched this page. Had I not just found the book, I don’t think I would have known, but this one,” she slipped her finger beneath one of the symbols, “showed up on the third door in the top left corner.” She flipped the page in her notebook and began another sketch. This looked much like the first, filling in the details of the door with the symbols worked around the edges.

  Again I marveled at her skill. Even in Arcanus, her ability would be extraordinary. No wonder Hard had pulled her into his obsession. I glanced toward the back room, where a hidden door led to the basement. In some ways, I shared the same obsession.

  “See these two?” she asked, pointing to the first symbol. It was a six-sided star with a circle worked through the middle. She moved to point at the second symbol, a series of interconnected wavy lines. “They match with this.” Taylor turned the page in the book and showed me another series of symbols. Near the middle of the page were the two she had drawn. “And these,” she continued, pointing to two more she’d drawn on the door, “match with these.” She turned the book so I could better see, motioning to another pair of symbols buried within the next page.

  “What do they do?” I asked.

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. Nothing. Everything. Activating the first two took more strength than I had, but all four?” She tapped the page with frustration. “There’s no way for a single painter to activate all four.”

  Not that she knew. It made me wonder how Hard had managed to open the other door. “And Hard let you do this?”

  She looked down at the page, but not before I saw the uncertainty on her face. “Hard didn’t know I watched him open the first door.”

  I laughed and she looked up at me, flipping her notepad closed as she went. “Hard always was arrogant like that.”

  Her brow furrowed as she frowned. “Arrogant?”

  I tipped my head toward her notepad. Within the three pages was more artistry than I would likely manage in a lifetime. Thankfully there was more to painting than artistry; otherwise I would never have survived as long as I had.

  “Hard probably didn’t think you’d even understand what he was doing. He’s been studying that door since before I came to Arcanus.”

  She bit her lip, hesitating before asking her next question. “That was when your father died.”

  I didn’t bother correcting her about my father. Everyone else in Arcanus thought he’d died that night, but who other than my father would have left the key, the roll of vellum, and the book? Hard claimed I’d taken them from my father’s rooms, but I hadn’t dared enter his rooms. I was nearly as intimidated by him as the rest of Arcanus.

  “They still talk about it sometimes,” she said. She tapped her pencil on the pad and bit her lip. It had the effect of making her look incredibly attractive. “Why did you leave?”

  “I didn’t have much choice in the matter. When the Masters decide you’re no longer welcome, Arcanus has a way of pushing you out.” And Ash—the real bastard who’d forced me away from Arcanus—had made certain that I had no other choice.

  She stared down at the book again, eyes studying something I couldn’t see. “The way they speak of you, it’s as if you chose to leave.”

  I leaned back in the chair and crossed my legs. My pants were still wet from sitting on the rain-soaked cement bench. I smeared my fingers against the rough denim, memories of Arcanus coming back unbidden. Ten years was a long time. Long enough for people to change. Long enough for the seething anger to abate. Long enough to learn about new talents or discover those once thought lost.

  “I’m surprised anyone is willing to talk about me.”

  Taylor scooted forward in her chair and touched my hand hesitantly before withdrawing. At some point, she’d cleaned the brown ink from her fingers, but I hadn’t seen her do it. Hadn’t seen her clean the blue off, either, before she went and switched colors. With her talent, she likely knew the risk of mixing colors, might even have talent for mixing it, though doing so was rare. Few painters had skill combining the right amount and still achieving the desired effect. My father knew how. In all the time I saw him work with powdered inks, I never saw him worry about it, almost as if it didn’t matter for what he did.

  “You never thought about going back?”

  “I was banished.”

  “Are you—”

  I cut her off with a nod. I wasn’t going to go down that road with her, not with those questions. The first few weeks after I left, all I thought about was getting back. I wanted nothing more than access to the library, convinced it was the key to finding him. Then I accidentally triggered a passageway across the Threshold. Or was drawn; I still didn’t know which it was. That’s when my studies truly began. Studies forced upon me by Devan’s father, and then lessons he’d taught himself. Each more terrifying than the last. But had I not studied with him, I never would have learned the control I now had with arcane patterns.

  “What happened when you opened that door?” I pointed to the paper but didn’t look down.

  Her eyes flicked down to the page. She fidgeted with the pencil, flipping it over her fingers. Her breathing quickened. A strand of hair fell into her face, and she left it.

  Could I have been reading it wrong?

  I thought about what I knew. Taylor shows up in the park. She’s a skilled painter, an artist, and one who knows some pretty advanced defensive skills. Something attacks through the bronze plate in the park. And she has a book with symbols much like the one I’d taken from Hard. But she’s scared. Terrified of whatever was on the other side of that plate—the doorway.

  “It wasn’t you who went through the doorway, was it?” I asked. That Taylor didn’t look up told me I was right. “Taylor?”

  She swallowed and nodded slowly. “It was Hard. I helped him discover the pattern, but he didn’t want me to go through. Too dangerous for me, he said.”

  I slipped her notebook from under her arms. She protested but I ignored her and flipped it open. The first page had a drawing of Agony, but one that was nothing like the drawings I used to make when I first returned to Conlin. It was all angular, the lines of his face worked with intersecting shapes that created the distinct impression of Agony much better than I would have managed.

  The next page was the picture of the door in Arcanus. I stared at symbols I’d once spent entire weeks puzzling over, trying and failing to learn some secret to activating them. Hard always found them so easy to activate, something he claimed came from being an artist. Practice, he would say. Improve your skills. Only then would he let me study with him. Taggers didn’t get to work with the Masters. So I’d practice and practice and nothing would ever change. No matter who my father might be, I would never be anything more than a tagger.

  It took years before I realized how wrong his thinking was.

  I turned the page and looked at the other side of the doorway, the hall of doors. What must it have been like the first time Hard opened that door and saw the other side? How many years had he studied? Fifty? Painters—especially true artists like Hard—didn’t age the way regular people did. Hard had been in Arcanus for sixty years before I even knew him. All that time obsessed by the door at the back of the library.

  “Where did it take him?” I asked softly. I couldn’t take my eyes off the picture of the room of doors. If going through the doorway in Arcanus led there, where would one of these other doors lead? Would they even cross the Threshold, or was this something different?

  “I didn’t see,” Taylor said. “He went alone.”

  I breathed out softly and handed the book back to her. She took it a
nd leaned forward, cradling it against her body. “He didn’t return, did he?” That was the reason she was here. Hard was stuck someplace, likely on the other side of the Threshold. “And now you don’t know where he is.”

  “I need your help finding him.”

  I suppressed a groan. Help Hard. Two words I never thought I’d even consider, but with Taylor sitting across from me and the potential knowledge that she had in the book, the desire to return to Arcanus flared within me. And the room of doors, well, that was something different. If nothing else, they proved the original founders of Arcanus had known more about the magical world that the current Masters. It was more than that. If I had access to the library there, how much more quickly could I learn what I needed to find my father?

  Taylor hadn’t noticed how conflicted I was and kept talking.

  “When I showed him what I discovered, he was the one who figured out how to activate the second door. When it opened, he—”

  A loud banging came from my front door and she jumped.

  I hopped to my feet and hurried to the door, pausing to peer through the peephole.

  Devan stood on the other side, her head tipped toward the peephole. Devan was short and thin and had deep blue eyes. She wore a thin jacket of dark green material that seemed to shimmer in the darkness. It hung open to reveal a faded t-shirt with some obscure band on it. Probably something she’d never even heard before.

  “Why’s it locked?”

  “Just a minute,” I said, wishing I could have warned Devan about Taylor, though knowing Devan, she likely sensed the mess from the park.

  “Open the door, Ollie! You’re going to want to see what I made.”

  I glanced at Taylor. She sat, eyes locked on the book in her lap. Tension had drained from her and she seemed somehow frailer than she’d been. How much had it taken for her to convince the others to come to me for help finding Hard?

  Or maybe I had it wrong. Maybe they had sent her.

  If they had, I wasn’t sure I wanted anything to do with Arcanus, not anymore. Once, I would have wanted nothing more than to return, to learn the secrets the Masters could teach, but that was before I’d discovered there were even more secrets than even Arcanus understood.

  And why me? The other Masters were all talented artists, each more skilled than I was. Mac and Reem would likely be able to pick up on Hard’s work, enough that they could reopen the door.

  “Damn, Ollie!” Devan yelled, pounding on the door again. “Open up.”

  I pulled the door open and she barreled through me, nearly knocking me down. She carried a clear plastic container with a pile of silver metallic sculptures. One looked a bit like Agony.

  She pushed it toward me. “These are like the others, only I tinkered with them a little, trying to get them to be a little more precise, knowing who might be using it.” I made a point of ignoring the dig and let her continue. “This one,” she took a short, thin cylinder out from the bin and rolled it between her fingers, “will create damn near a perfect circle if you hold it over your head. These others make different shapes, just like you asked. And this,” she pulled the one that looked something like Agony’s head, “makes that pattern you requested. You’ll have to test it out and see if it works.”

  As I took the bin from her, she kicked the door closed and started toward the kitchen. “Missed lunch today finishing this for you. You still have some of that pizza?”

  “That’s from three nights ago.”

  “So?” She stopped short and turned toward Taylor, as if only now realizing she was there. I wasn’t sure I believed that. “Shit, Ollie, I didn’t know you had a girl here. Didn’t know you knew any girls here. She one of your old girlfriends?” She dragged her eyes across Taylor before nodding approvingly. “If you two are busy, I can come back later.”

  I stepped past Devan and punched her in the shoulder. “This is Taylor. She’s from Arcanus.”

  Devan’s lips pinched together. “Thought that place wanted nothing to do with you.”

  “They don’t. Or didn’t.”

  “Then what’s she doing here?” The dark stare she shot Taylor as she asked told me that she had sensed the commotion from the park earlier. It left me wondering why she hadn’t come to help. Usually Devan raced to help me.

  “A long story.” I grabbed the folding chair and sat, eyeing the charms she had made. “If these work as you say, I might have to take back some of the things I’ve said about you.”

  She leaned against the wall, hands hooked into the pockets of her black jeans, and glared at me. “Like what? That I’m awesome and you’re a piece of shit?”

  Taylor gaped at Devan before turning to me. “Who is she?”

  Devan shrugged. “I’m Ollie’s friend. I make stuff.”

  I suppressed a grin. The better question would have been what is she, but Taylor didn’t know to ask. Most from Arcanus thought painting all there was to know about magic.

  Taylor leaned toward the plastic bin on my lap and grabbed the pyramid-shaped one. She twisted it in her hand before pressing down on the top. A streak of green ink shot across my floor. I wasn’t surprised Devan had used green in it even though it was a color I wasn’t terribly partial to. If I had any furniture, it would have gotten all over everything. Instead, it soaked into the faded hardwood.

  Taylor’s eyes widened and she smiled. “That’s incredible.” She looked up at Devan. “You made this?”

  Devan pushed away from the wall and grabbed a chair, settling herself on it across from Taylor, as if the comment had decided something for her. “I made all of these.” She took the pyramid shape out of Taylor’s hand and stuffed it back into the plastic bin. “For Ollie. Not for you Arcanus turds.”

  Taylor had been staring at the bin and jerked her head up. “I’m not the reason he’s not in Arcanus. I came here because I needed his help.”

  Devan snorted and flicked an annoyed glance over to me. “You really gonna help her after what they did to you?”

  “It’s complicated, Devan.”

  “She the reason that damn dog is prowling outside?”

  I frowned. “What dog?”

  Devan thumbed toward my door. “Big wolfhound. Maybe even a wolf. Saw it slinking around outside. I thought it might be your new neighbor at first, but it looks a little bit rough for this neighborhood. So did she bring it?”

  I went to the window and pulled back the heavy blankets covering them and peered outside. Night had settled fully and it was dark other than the rim of lanterns placed around the outside of the house. Presumably they were landscape lanterns, but seeing as how I didn’t have much in the way of landscape, they didn’t really hide their real purpose very well. A trickle of light spilled off them, pushing back the darkness.

  “I don’t see anything. Are you sure—”

  Devan shot me a look that would have made anyone else wilt, but I’d known her a long time. Nearly my whole life outside of Arcanus. She was one of the first friends I made when I left there. Without her, I might never have survived once I left Arcanus.

  “Now you’re questioning my sight?”

  I stared out the window, straining to see anything moving in the shadows. “You know I don’t,” I said absently.

  Devan had abilities, too. Like I said, there are other magical entities out in the world. Devan was one of them. Not quite human. In addition to the magic she possessed—real magic, not the kind that required painting—her kind had sight and speed and she could work wonders with anything small, like the charms she made for me. Books would probably have referred to her people as elves or maybe fairies, but she didn’t have the pointy ears or slanting eyes. All she had were slight features that belied her strength.

  “You want me to go see if it’s still there?” she asked.

  I shook my head. After what happened tonight, I didn’t want her out around some strange wolf, regardless of whatever skills she might have, not until I knew what had tried getting through the plate in the park. The
protections around my house would hold back most anything anyway. The house was one of the last gifts my father had given me, and the place I had gone to first when Arcanus kicked me out. Somehow, the house itself was better protected than anything I could concoct. Now that I was back, I was determined to learn some of his secrets. If I didn’t, we might never survive what Devan’s father intended for us now that we’d managed to escape him.

  Yeah, we were essentially on the run. And while Devan was powerful in her own way, the magic her father could sling around was on a whole other level.

  Taylor came and stood next to me, peering through the window as if her sight were as good as Devan’s. She wiped at the window with her sleeve.

  Devan laughed softly. “You’re not going to clear his ink off with your sleeve.”

  Taylor lowered her face to the glass and studied it, tracing a finger around the outer edge. She twisted her head as she studied the subtle markings made within the paint. I had done the same long ago and then again when I’d returned. I might be able to recognize some of the patterns, but I couldn’t recreate them with the same level of detail. “You did this?”

  “You think a tagger could do that?”

  She stood and wiped her hands on her pants. When she met my eyes, there was a hint of respect there. “From what I’ve seen, the answer would be yes.”

  I turned away and stared out into the night, ignoring the questions her glance asked. Someone from Arcanus wasn’t ready for the things I’d seen. “Then you’d be wrong. This house was my father’s. Since you were in Arcanus, you probably heard about him.”

  “The Elder.”

  I chuckled. I loved the names the Masters assumed. Hard. Reem. Mac. Ash. And the Elder. I never learned if he named himself or if someone gave him the name. Either way, it had stuck. Most never knew his real name. Hell, I’m no longer sure I knew his real name. “Yeah, that’s him.”

  “This was his house?”

  She looked around, a curious tone to her voice. It was almost enough for me to kick her out. Let her deal with what might be out in the night. But I didn’t. I still hadn’t decided whether I was going to help her find Hard, but that was mostly because I didn’t know if there was anything I could do to help.