8
Living with a drunk all your life teaches you to walk silently and always keep your guard up. Hannah had mastered navigating the house during her father’s perpetual binge. The worn boards didn’t make a peep as she snuck past her father, who was passed out in the dining room, and into the room she shared with her brother.
Hearing the door, William rolled onto his side. Small for his age, he had a boyish face. But today, the fifteen-year-old looked like a child.
“Happened again?” Hannah asked, sitting on the edge of the bed. The old mattress was barely better than a board.
He looked up and replied, “I’m fine.”
She didn’t push him. Didn’t have to.
Hannah knew her brother better than she knew herself. He wouldn’t give her any extra opportunities to feel badly for him. And he fully realized that he was the reason she still lived in the house in Queen’s Boulevard. If it weren’t for William, Hannah would have been miles away—maybe even in another city, if that were a possibility.
“I visited Miranda today. She gave me something for my face,” she told him as she reached up and touched her cheek.
“Finally. I was wondering if we could do something about your ugly mug.” William laughed.
Hannah landed a soft, playful punch of her brother’s arm before reaching into her pocket. “Gave me these too.” She rattled the bottle of pills. “Says they could help with the seizures.”
Her brother looked down. “Hannah, you shouldn’t have—”
“Of course I should have,” Hannah argued.
“No,” a heavy, slurred voice said behind her. “You should listen to your brother. You shouldn’t have.”
Hannah’s father loomed in the doorway, looking like he hadn’t shaved or bathed in months. They used to talk about their dad going on a bender, but that term implied there were also sober days.
“Where’s the rest?” her father asked.
“Rest of what?” she asked.
“The rest of the damned money. You go out there every day, the two of you, and you’re supposed to come home with something to show for it. So where is it?”
Hannah’s throat tightened and her body tingled with electricity as it had in the market square. “I have food and medicine to show for it. That’s why I work—to take care of this family. Not to buy your damned firewater!”
She froze. Placating her father was always the wiser decision, but now Hannah had kicked the beehive hard.
Arnold’s face turned a brighter red, adding contour to his puffy, drunken eyes. “Well, I guess you’re like your mother after all—an ungrateful little bitch.”
Her dad strode across the room intending to add to Hannah’s already battered face. She flinched as the roundhouse came in her direction, but her father’s meaty fist froze inches from her. Not just his hand; his entire body was as still as a statue.
Hannah stiffened, expecting to get hit, but then relaxed when the blow failed to land.
The hell?
“What’s your name, sir?” a clear voice called from the hall behind her father.
A robed man with white hair and a beard to match stepped into the small room. A staff was steady in his hand, and his eyes glowed fire red.
“Arnold,” her father answered. Hannah, mouth open, looked between this newcomer and her father.
“Arnold, I want you to listen very carefully. You will never lay a hand on your son or daughter again. From this moment on, you will cease to bother your children. Leave this house immediately, and don’t return until you have found work. Because you’re a drunken louse, and because it’s nighttime in the Boulevard, I don’t imagine you’ll have luck anytime soon. Nevertheless, this is now your number one priority. Nod if you understand me.”
Arnold nodded. Hannah couldn't believe her eyes.
“Good. Now get out, you poor excuse for a seed donor.” The old man waved his hand negligently. “I need to speak with your daughter. And one more thing,” the man said. “From this day forward, any booze that passes your lips will taste like donkey piss. Do you understand?”
Her father nodded and slowly left the room, stepping carefully around the old man. The visitor’s face softened as he turned toward Hannah and William.
“Now that that is taken care of, let’s get down to the important stuff, shall we?”
Hannah’s jaw dropped in disbelief. “Who are you?” She heard the front door slam behind her father.
“And what the hell just happened?”
For most, eating alone night after night would be lonely, even at the majestic table in the Chancellor’s Mansion, but Adrien didn’t want it any other way. His days were spent running the Academy and, for all intents and purposes, the city of Arcadia.
The Governor would be lost without him, which made sense since Adrien had basically made the toothless bureaucrat his puppet. The Governor didn’t do shit in his position, and that was precisely what the Chancellor wanted from him.
Dinner was prepared by an executive chef who made himself available around the clock, but that night Adrien hardly took notice of the quality of his viands.
His mind couldn’t shake the report that Jasper and the other Hunters gave about the demon-magician in the market. Ezekiel had mentioned such magic before he left Arcadia for the last time, but it was impossible that his mentor could be back. Everyone knew he was gone for good.
Magic held great power, but the dead didn’t return. Perspiration beaded his forehead and he dabbed at it with the cloth napkin.
If the Master had returned, Adrien would have to be ready for him. The man would certainly not agree with the direction in which the Chancellor had steered the city. But what did he know? Adrien’s teacher lived in a world of imaginary ideals. He knew nothing of real politics, let alone real education.
“Cynthia!” Adrien yelled, his fear making his yell sound like frustration.
Footsteps clattered down the hall toward the dining room. A beautiful woman in maid’s garb quickly entered from the hall and halted across the table from Adrien. “Yes, Chancellor, what can I do for you?”
“Horace is the manager of Queen’s Boulevard, isn’t he?”
“Yes, sir. He is.”
“Send one of the boys to tell him I need to see him one hour from now in my private office.”
The woman offered something between a bow and a curtsy before shuffling out of the room, relieved to be dismissed.
Shock washed over Hannah when her father left the room on command. No one told him what to do, not in his own house. She spun back to the old man, who stood in the middle of their bedroom.
“Let me see that, son,” he said to William.
The boy held out the bottle of pills with a quivering hand. After giving it a little shake, the man opened the bottle and sniffed its contents. Pulling a pill out, he held it up and inspected it.
“Interesting,” he said, more to himself than to the room’s residents.
Hannah watched him break the pill open and pour the contents into his left hand as he stirred the contents around with his right index finger. He raised his right eyebrow and looked over to the young man. “Where did you get this?” he asked.
Without a word, William’s eyes cut to his sister, then back to the man.
Ezekiel turned. “Young lady?”
If a kid learned anything growing up in Queen’s Boulevard, it was not to be a snitch. Sure, the guy saved her from certain death, but she still didn’t trust him.
Her lips remained tightly pursed.
“Ah, a woman of principle, I see.” The man smiled and his eyes glimmered. They were a steely gray when they weren’t glowing red. “Let’s play it this way: whatever you do, don’t think of the alchemist’s name right now.”
Naturally, the first thing to flash through her head was Miranda’s name and an image of her sitting across the table from her in the little basement room. As she thought it, the magician’s eyes flashed red and then back to gray.
�
�Miranda?” he murmured.
Hannah narrowed her eyes, annoyed. “How did you…”
He cocked his head to the side. “Really? Are you so surprised? Well, I expect I don’t know her, but this Miranda has made a very good mix for the boy. I’m sure it would have worked after some time. A few days, a little more, a little less. Alchemy is such an imprecise science.”
“I recognize you,” Hannah pointed at him, “even without the green skin and horns.” Her anger could take her only so far before her question came out, but it was now only a question, no frustration left in her voice. “But who the hell are you?”
The man laughed again. Each time he laughed comforted Hannah more than the last. “That is the burning question, isn’t it, young one?”
Untying the cord around his neck, the man pushed his arms back in one swift move, allowing the brown cloak to drop to the floor. Underneath were stunning white robes.
His transformation occurred before her eyes.
While his hair and beard were still white, he looked decades younger and stronger. He seemed to have grown six inches as he straightened. The entire thing made Hannah step back and sit on the bed with William. She grabbed for her brother’s leg.
“Whoa,” William said in almost a whisper.
“No shit,” Hannah replied.
“Ah,” the transformed man said. “This looks a bit more like me. But I couldn’t be out there without something of a disguise.” He rolled his neck as if working out some kinks. “I am the one that people here call the Founder. My given name is Ezekiel.”
“Whoa,” William said again.
“Horseshit,” Hannah said, rising from the bed and pointing at the man. “There is no such person as the Founder. It’s like wood nymphs or…or…” she threw her hands up in the air, “I don’t know, something else that isn’t real.”
She continued her argument. “The Founder is a story told by some to manipulate and others to comfort. Like the Prophet.” She shook a finger at Ezekiel as if she were scolding a child. “That guy is a cultist! Drawing everybody in with stories and then feeding off their admiration and attention. And his disciples?”
Her voice rose an octave.
“They’re even worse! The way the Prophet talks about the Founder, it gives them a false sense of hope about the future. But that ain’t the way of the world. Not here in Arcadia. And it sure ain’t my life.” Hannah realized she was sweating, and for some reason, close to tears.
Her emotions were taking over, and she wasn’t certain why. “You’re not the Founder, and we’re not going to be your disciples.” She breathed deeply, willing the tears to stay away as she speared Ezekiel with both eyes. “Go mindscrew somebody else, you sicko! Just because you saved me back there in the alley...and…and now with my own father....”
Hannah felt nauseous, as she had much of the previous day. She curled her hands into balls and considered attacking, but something deep inside told her to stop.
Just Wait.
Listen.
And watch.
The magician finally took his eyes off Hannah and turned toward William. “Young man, do you believe as your sister does?” he asked, an eyebrow raised in question.
William’s eyes were wide and his mouth dropped slightly open as he looked to Hannah and then back at Ezekiel. “Um, yeah. I think so.”
Ezekiel pursed his lips for a moment. “How are you feeling? The seizures.”
“Fine.”
“No.” Ezekiel shook his head. “Tell me the truth.”
William glanced back at Hannah, and she gave him the slightest nod. She wanted to believe, but at the same time she just couldn’t.
Her life didn’t lend itself to fairy tales.
“OK,” he shrugged. “I feel terrible. Like the world is spinning. Only slowly now, but then it speeds up and the shaking comes. I can’t stop it.”
“I can,” Ezekiel said with a wink. “Do you want me to?”
Another glance in Hannah’s direction, and she knew she had to make a call. A lifetime of suspicion meant she couldn’t trust this man, but when it came to her brother, no wager was too high.
“Do it,” she finally answered, her voice a whisper.
Without a word, the man stepped forward and leaned over Hannah’s brother. His eyes turned red again. She could feel the power coming off him, like in the marketplace.
Placing his hands on the boy, the man stood motionless for a moment. It was as if his body was there, but nothing else. After what felt like an eternity, William’s face came to life. His color returned, and he looked better than he ever had. The man took a couple of steps back and then slumped in the chair in the corner.
“Whoa!” William cried, looking at his hands. “That was amazing.”
Hannah came back to the bed. “What? What is it?” she asked, looking him up and down.
“I’ve never felt like this before.” He looked up at his sister, his eyes glistening. “I feel…I feel…great!”
For as long as Hannah had known her brother, the boy had had moments when his health was bad and other times when it was worse. He’d never felt great before.
Hannah’s heart burst with joy. Looking back at Ezekiel in the chair, she questioned, “You fixed him?”
The old man gazed at her for a moment, then nodded. “Now that I am back,” he told her as he looked towards William and then out the window, “I have a mind to fix a lot of things.” He turned back to the two of them. “William here is only the beginning.” He waved towards the outside. “It is time to make Arcadia what she was meant to be. Time to create a kingdom where magic is used for the good of all.”
Having regained his strength after the casting, the man stood. He didn’t look like the old man who had entered their house minutes ago.
Although still gray, he seemed strong and filled with life. “The one problem is that I’m going to need help. I can’t change the world on my own. And there are going to be those who want anything but change. We’re not talking about just the little things, though those matter. What I’m talking about is a whole new order,” he told the two of them.
Hannah stood up, arms crossed in front of her. “Even if I bought all of this, what can I do?” Her voice dropped, as close to admitting defeat as she had ever been. “I’m nobody.”
“Hannah…” His eyes seemed to disappear for a moment before she could focus on them. “You are a magician, with the potential to unlock power you can hardly dream of. The question is not what you can do, but rather, what you have the will to do.”
The old man held a hand out in her direction. “So, you answer me this, Hannah,” he asked her, his eyes seeming to dance between colors.
“Do you want to help save the people here?” He waved to those in Queen’s Boulevard. “Are you willing to help save Arcadia?”
9
A caged bird forgets how to sing, Hannah thought as she walked through the front gates of Arcadia and into the unknown. It was a line her mother had said to her over and over when she was young. It was a tale, which, as far as she knew, was older than Irth.
As a child she had never really known what it meant, but as she got older, Hannah found that her life was the cage, and the bars had gotten thicker and thicker with each passing year. She had never realized until now that her mother was a caged bird herself, and she didn’t want Hannah to follow in her path.
Stepping through the broad gate and out of Arcadia for the first time, all terror was washed away, and she felt a sense of liberation she didn’t know was possible.
It tasted sweet, and she wanted more.
Glancing over her shoulder, she took one last look at Arcadia’s walls as she walked beside the magician who had offered her freedom.
The choice hadn’t been made lightly.
For years, she could have run, but responsibility to her brother kept her within the walls. She had traded love for freedom, and had resigned herself to that decision. His declining health had held her. That, and her abusive
father.
There was no way in hell she would leave Arcadia with her sick brother in that drunk’s hands. So, she had stayed, and had no regrets or resentment toward her brother because of it.
But Ezekiel had changed everything.
He had placed his hands on William, and all signs of weakness disappeared. William had gone from looking like a shriveled child to the strong young man Hannah had always known he was on the inside. With William’s health back, Hannah’s impetus to stay weakened. If Ezekiel’s magical spell on her father was real as well, the decision to leave became even easier to make.
Ezekiel had spoken to her father, and he had listened. He was now crawling the streets of Arcadia looking for work, something he had stopped doing well before her mother died.
But even with the apparent reversal in circumstances, Hannah’s skepticism had not been easily overcome. Her life had taught her that bad tended to turn worse. That lesson had made it hard to accept that some all-powerful godlike figure would just show up at her door with free handouts.
It took hours, but Will had finally convinced her that going with Ezekiel, at least on a trial basis, was worth a shot.
Even if the whole thing was some elaborate scam, the rewards outweighed the risks. And the guy had healed him. Hannah was willing to break a lot of rules where William’s health and happiness were concerned.
Will was a smart kid, and Parker would help him when necessary. So she had finally consented to listen to the magician’s plan to save Arcadia and her role in the whole endeavor. Even as they walked their first paces beyond the walls, she wondered, why her? What did she have to offer the mighty Founder whom people had talked about for decades?
Apparently, this old man was convinced she could use magic. She didn’t doubt the fact that something weird had happened to her—the strange lizard tucked away in her bag was proof of that—but it was hard for her to grasp that she might ever be able to do the things she had seen the Founder do.
There were many questions to be answered, but she turned her mind from her queries to take in the new world around her instead.
Welcome To The Age of Magic Page 9