She nodded as she lost herself in thought. Finally, she continued, “No children, though, but Madelyn is as good as mine. We’ve done well together.”
The old man smiled, this one took no work on his part at all. “Good. I’m glad for the two of you.”
“We have so much to speak of, but I am afraid we have little time. Let us not share our lost loves.”
“Arcadia,” he said. The word was like honey on his lips.
Her face lightened. “Yes. Our home and great experiment.”
“But what has it become?”
Madelyn cleared her throat at the bedroom door and walked in with a tray of tea and cookies.
“Thank you.” The old man reached for the tray. Handing it to him, Madelyn smiled and backed out of the room to leave the two alone.
Eve continued her story. “It worked, dear. The city. The place we built together with the others blossomed like a flower bed touched with the magic of the Druids.”
He bit into a cookie. “But how could it come to this then?” He pointed at the walls. “The things I’ve seen since I returned. So much pain, Eve.”
Her lips pressed together. “Ezekiel, this is a hard story. One that none of us ever thought would come to pass, but one you must know. When you left, everything was in place. And the steward you left in charge was filled with energy and vigor. For years, Adrien kept building and creating things of beauty.
“Farms developed outside the walls and the peace we enjoyed drew people from the ends of Irth. Arcadia was becoming the society that we all thought might not be possible after the Age of Madness.
“Adrien and our friend Saul worked day and night. They were tireless and single-minded in making the dream, our dream, a reality. As more and more came, the city filled with life. It was truly beautiful. But the more people who flooded the gates, the more problems arose.
“Those boys were whip-sharp, though. Adrien and Saul gathered us all and shared the plan. Our magic had almost completed the place, but one-quarter of Arcadia remained wild. Trees grew tall and animals roamed free.
“Of course, that’s where I spent most of my time. But then the city needed my wild place, and I knew it was for the best. The quarter would be cleared and reserved for two structures. The Capitol from which Saul would govern the city, and the Academy where Adrien would train magicians based on your principles.”
Memories of his final conversation with his student ran through Ezekiel’s mind. A smile crossed his face, then faded because he knew the story had a sorrowful end.
“It was like that for years,” she continued. “The city grew and grew. Saul appointed people to oversee the quarters, and created a government that would help us flourish.
“And Adrien,” she said, “was certainly in his element. The Academy was free and open. He had magicians running classes in all the rooms and sometimes out into the corridors. For the first time, we no longer felt like little children playing house, but like founders. We were rebuilding paradise in a world that had been torn and twisted….”
She stopped and looked down at her hands, her voice soft. “But it wasn’t long until paradise was lost. Nothing happened overnight. Rather, it crept in gradually, like evil tends to do. There came a time when everyone you met was some kind of magician. I mean, most of them were harmless. Many were using their powers for great acts of good. But shadows of vice hid in the corners of many hearts.
“Before long, some people started to use their powers for ill. And one day, a group of magicians from Queen’s Boulevard tried to take the Capitol with their magic. Power begets a lust for power, and these men wanted more. They were thirsty for it.”
He pulled his drink away from his lips. “And what did they accomplish?”
She shook her head. “Nothing. How could they? They were amateurs at best. Saul had a military guard, and Adrien oversaw the most powerful magicians for miles around. They put down the uprising in hours, but its effects lingered. Adrien barred any new students from the Academy until the first-years were on the verge of graduation.
“By the time he permitted new students, he had instituted an admissions policy that only allowed the best and brightest from what had become the noble class. The damnedest thing is that we all voted for it. Even I voted for it, Ezekiel! And why not?”
Her voice firmed as she relived her memory. “We were all scared to lose this place, scared of what magic could do if it were left uncontrolled. And we trusted Adrien with our lives. I trusted him.”
The woman’s eyes teared over, and she turned out of pride toward the window looking out on the garden; her remaining wild patch of Arcadia. The old man gently squeezed her arm and allowed her the space she needed. She finally turned back to her friend.
“He changed everything. Adrien didn’t just regulate which magic could be taught, he also changed the narrative about its purpose. I know now that this is why the other students needed to go before his new classes could be initiated. No longer was magic for the commonwealth, but rather for the good of the state, which amounted to nothing more than the good of Adrien.”
“But Saul wouldn’t have let him do this,” Ezekiel argued.
Her smile vanished, and, with pursed lips, she nodded. “At first Saul had no idea. Adrien was curing a disease that had needed to be addressed. Over time the uprising fizzled out, so we all thought Adrien had made the right decision. But a year into Adrien’s solution, it started to become clear. The two would fight into the early hours of the morning over the fate of Arcadia. And then—” A coughing fit came over the woman, and her pale face turned pink, then red.
The old man leaned over and held her in his arms. Compared to watching her suffer, the story of Arcadia held little weight. Ezekiel reached out in thought as subtle as prayer. His eyes turned, and the tiniest waves of power left his body.
Her coughing stopped. She leaned back and raised her eyes to his. “You have learned things.”
He smiled. “You thought I took it easy these last forty-odd years? I have learned much. I could help you, heal your body.”
She patted his hand. “Magic can only sustain us so far, my friend.”
He shrugged. “As far as we know, all magic is limited. But I have seen things. There are powers from the Matriarch and Patriarch that have yet to be understood or revealed.”
Eve’s face seemed to lighten and her eyes gleamed, if only for a moment. “In them is our hope. But it is a hope in a future that I will not see, and that, honestly, I don’t want to see it. I am happy we have met again. I must rest now, Ezekiel, but the story isn’t over. There is one more thing you must know.”
“Yes?”
“There was never any proof, and even if there had been it wouldn’t have amounted to anything. But your student Adrien? He murdered Saul.”
Ezekiel closed his eyes and absorbed the shock. If that were true, then his protégé had truly changed. He hung his head. “How could he have done such a thing? They were closer than any friends I have ever known,” he asked, his pain lacing every syllable of his words
Her voice grew firm, but little above a whisper. “All things can break, Ezekiel, but all can be rebuilt, too. You are here now, to make things right. Here to put an end to Adrien’s rule.”
Parker sat on a flour sack at the opposite edge of the market from the Pit. His canvas bag, a relic older than him, was wedged between his legs, stuffed full of his tools and the winnings from his first—and last—fight in the Pit.
Taking a beating wasn’t his idea of a viable livelihood, but he was behind for the month and desperate times called for idiotic measures. Between his earnings and his partner’s winnings, it had been well worth taking a few lumps. Not to mention that it was likely that the word of his exploits would spread throughout Queen’s Boulevard. And being the badass from Queen’s Boulevard for a few weeks would have its perks.
Eyes open for his friend and partner, he scanned the crowd as he gnawed on a slice of stale bread. His jaw hurt with every bite, and
he knew he would dream of Wildman Hank’s fists tonight. He held a handkerchief some admirer from the crowd had handed him on his exit from the Pit to his bloodied nose.
Theatrics may have worked to win the fight, but it also cost him some blood and a blow to the face. Part of him was glad he wouldn’t be able to play that con again. His ears were still buzzing as he watched the crowds shift around the vendors’ stalls in the square.
Morning was his favorite time of the day. Arcadia was fresh and alive. It made him feel like things could actually be different. Most of the citizens were rushing to get a jump on their day’s work.
“What the hell happened to you?” he asked Hannah as she wove out of the crowd. Her beautiful nose was swollen to the size of an apple, and raccoon eyes spread out from its mass. Parker couldn’t help but think she was still a knockout, even with the adjustments to her face. He chuckled at his friend. “Looks like you were the one in the ring.”
“No biggie,” Hannah said, adjusting her wool hat. “You doing OK?”
She sat next to him and pulled out her own chunk of bread. They went through this every day. The habits they formed gave a sense of normalcy to their thoroughly abnormal life. Hannah winced as she looked her old friend over.
“Not so bad in there, huh?” She nodded in the direction of the ring. “It would have taken you weeks to pay back my losses if you didn’t win. And what the hell was up with the blowing kisses? Nearly got you creamed.”
Parker smiled, then winced as pain shot through his face. He waited for a second to let the throbbing pass. “That’s what won it for me. Had to get under Hank’s skin. But screw the fight. What the hell happened to your face?”
She ran a fingertip across her nose. “Hard to explain, really. I’m still making sense of the whole thing. Will and I were on our way to the park, and something, don’t know what, came over him. He started shaking and convulsing—white-faced and drooling.”
“Holy shit,” Parker whispered.
“Right? I didn’t know what to do. He was in my arms, and I started to scream and then something felt different, like I was about to explode from the inside out. And then, he was just better. Almost like it had never happened.”
She considered telling him about the lizard, but thought that would be too much for one conversation.
Not to be deterred, he kept up his questions. “So where did the black eyes come in? And what’s with the hat?”
Hannah bit her lip and looked down. He’d known her for years—since they were children—and he hadn’t seen her like this before. Something bad had happened. Really bad.
“Hunters,” she finally admitted.
“No shit?” he asked.
“Chased me into an alley…” She trailed off, and Parker gave her time. Finally, she looked up and locked eyes with him. Even through the pain, her eyes held something different. Something special. Parker knew that if it weren’t for their circumstances, she could have been something great. “They were going to kill me, with other things beforehand, I think.”
“Wait. Why the hell would Hunters give a shit about you? I mean, no offense, but you don’t know a lick of magic.”
“That’s the crazy part. I don’t have the faintest idea, but they were convinced I had practiced magic in the market square. Right over there.” Hannah pointed to their left. “Must’ve been what happened with William, I don’t know. They chased me and cornered me in an alley.”
“You were caught by Hunters and lived to tell the tale? You have some special skills you haven’t told me about. Because if so,” he lifted his sack to gently jingle the money, “I say we put you in the Pit tomorrow.”
Hannah smiled. “Guess I have a guardian angel. Some, well…guy showed up. A magician. At least, that’s what I think he was. He looked like a character from a tale for children. Long robe, staff, and his eyes glowed brighter than I’ve ever seen.”
“And?” Parker pushed her forward.
“Didn’t see too much. The guy dropped his hood and his face was all demonic; horns and everything. But now I kind of wonder if it was only part of the magic. Either way, the guy totally kicked ass. Magic flowed from him, but also his staff had power. I didn’t stick around to ask questions. Ran as fast as I could.”
Hannah held part of the story back, and Parker let her. There was more hurt below the surface and he felt it himself.
After enough time, he asked, “So what did you do?”
“I just told you,” Hannah replied. She wanted to punch him in the shoulder, but even as annoyed as she was, she wasn’t mean enough to hit him after his pummeling by Hank this morning.
“No, I mean to your brother. How did you heal him?” he clarified.
She shrugged, looking around the market. “I didn’t do anything. He just...just got better. It was a misunderstanding. They were going to brain me in some back alley over their…misperception, I guess. And what’s worse,” she lifted the hat quickly to show off the tag still burning on her forehead “they stuck me with this. I don’t know how the hell I’m gonna get it off, Parker. But other than that, I’m fine. Really. Let’s just get to work.”
Hannah looked tough, but Parker didn’t buy it. Something else was going on, but he would let it be for the time.
The morning didn’t stop for stories, and they needed to strike while the iron was hot.
He placed his hands over his heart and batted his eyelashes. “Well, I’m glad you’re OK. I’d be lost without you.”
“Screw you.” Hannah laughed. “What’s the play today?”
“Well,” he said as he patted the leather bag at his side, his eyebrows dancing up and down before he winced, “I thought I’d play with my balls.”
6
Hannah pulled her legs up underneath her on the sack of flour as she watched Parker move toward the crowd. He carried a crate discarded from a produce vendor in his arms and his leather bag lay strapped tightly to his back. As he wove through the crowded marketplace, he bumped into shoppers along his way. His feigned clumsiness drew quite a bit of attention.
"Excuse me," he repeated as he made his way forward, staggering like a drunk.
Shoppers and vendors kept looking over their shoulders at him as he spun through the crowd. Finally, he bumped hard into a cart filled with fresh bread. It pitched over onto its side, and the loaves spilled out onto the ground, tumbling in every direction. Parker fell in a heap among the mess. The shopkeeper who pushed the cart loomed over her friend.
“What the hell is wrong with you? Look at this...”
Parker stood, hands raised in defense like a kid caught trying to steal candy. “Sorry. I can—”
“Damn right you can. Clean this shit up. And you’re going to buy the bread I can’t sell.”
Almost nothing draws a crowd better than a public confrontation. A semicircle formed around the disruption as the bald baker continued his tirade against Hannah's friend. A few shouts came from the crowd. Many of them wanted to see another fight.
"Now!" the shopkeeper snarled.
"OK. I’ll do whatever you want, right after I do this," Parker said.
He bent at the waist, placed the crate on the ground, and in one swift move, arched up into a perfect handstand, toes pointed to the sky. Gasps came from the onlookers, and even the shopkeeper stared in disbelief.
Hannah smiled as her friend performed ten perfect push-ups from his handstand, counting each one off. Although she knew he could easily do a hundred, the crowd was awed by his perfect combination of strength and balance. Some were muttering about his performance earlier that day in the Pit.
On the last pushup, a single red ball dropped out of his leather bag. Holding himself on the box in a one-armed handstand, he caught the red ball with his other hand as it fell toward the dusty ground.
The crowd gasped, then cheered, the shopkeeper with them.
Parker vaulted off the box onto the ground, and gave a bow for the crowd. Reaching into the bag, he drew out two more balls and started
a simple juggling routine as he stepped back onto the crate.
Hannah took a moment to enjoy his routine, even though she knew it by heart. As the crowd watched and laughed, she could picture each of his moves in her mind’s eye. She knew that her friend’s role in their partnership was harder, but hers was by far the more dangerous.
Convinced that the marketgoers were thoroughly entranced, Hannah got to work. She wove through the intoxicated crowd, bumping into them as she went.
Most ignored her tiny frame. She was just another body pressing against them, trying to get a better view of the show. They were also unaware of her hands reaching into their coat pockets and handbags.
Parker’s clowning grabbed their attention as Hannah grabbed their purse strings. She worked quickly, and by the time she got to the opposite side of the bazaar, she'd filled the pockets of her cloak with whatever items of value she could lift.
Ezekiel leaned against a pillar at the back of the market. If his face hadn’t been veiled by the low-hanging hood, one might have seen the smile spreading across his face as his eyebrows raised in anticipation.
The young man caused a ruckus in the small square, everyone turning in his direction to watch the market’s jester. But the old man wasn’t watching him.
Ezekiel’s eyes were locked on the girl.
Smart, he thought. Both of them.
She wore a thick wool cap on her head, but Ezekiel could see the bruising around her eyes and cheeks. The previous day hadn’t broken her; she was obviously stronger than that. She sat on the edge of a flower sack, watching her partner’s perfect setup.
The sound of the crowd rose and fell with anticipation as the young man did amazing feats with a set of red juggling balls. He’d pass a can when he was finished, the old man had seen it many times before. Street performers like this would make more than a simple panhandler, but not enough to live on. But the old man knew that the performance was not their primary game.
Welcome To The Age of Magic Page 6