by T. Mikita
“What?”
“Did your father ever give you the sword?”
“No,” Asher said. “I told you. He had it when he died.”
Evelyn shook her head. “No. No. No. I mean, prior to that day; did Michael ever hand it to you. Did he ever tell you it would one day be yours?”
Asher shook his head.
“Did he ever let you hold it?”
“I didn’t even know it existed, Aunt Evelyn. I thought I knew all the swords in his collection, but I never saw that one before. That’s why I remember it.”
“It is well and truly lost, then.”
“What do you mean? I saw it there in the…” Asher swallowed thickly, the memories engulfing him. “In the blood. It was still in his right hand. The Otherworlders didn’t take it. Don’t you have it now?”
He was sure his father had the sword that night, but Asher remembered now, that it wasn’t there when he had tried to fight the creature. It had disappeared. No that couldn’t be right, Asher thought.
“If Michael didn’t give it to you, it is lost in the ether.” Aunt Evelyn said. “It can be passed to a successor, but if Michael did not pass it to you. He would have died protecting it.”
“I thought the sword was supposed to protect him!”
“It was,” Evelyn retorted. “But your father wasn’t stupid. He knew this could happen. He would have made preparations, to prevent such a powerful weapon from passing to the Otherworlders. The blade can be won in fair combat, but if it is not claimed, it will wait for a new wielder. Once it vanishes as far as I know it is only visible to a wielder.”
“A wielder?” Asher repeated. “But you have seen it?”
“Only when your father held it.”
Asher considered her answer. His father had been holding it when Asher saw it, but he was already dead. Asher hadn’t touched it. He had seen it, but it had disappeared. When he tried to take it, it was gone. It didn’t make any sense. Asher broke off his thoughts, shaking his head.
“My father never told me, about any of this. Even when I saw weird things…” Asher thought how little he really knew about his father. “When I was a kid, and I told him there was a monster under my bed, he must have known it was real, but he didn’t tell me. He just said a prayer and sprinkled the room with salt. There were other things too, but he didn’t tell me any of this stuff. Not really.”
“I’m sorry,” Aunt Evelyn said. “I’m sure he thought it was for the best. Michael wanted you to be normal, and after Vanessa’s death, that was doubly so.”
“But I saw them. As a child. I didn’t think of it before, but now, knowing what I know, I did see them. Things out of the corner of your eye. I always thought it was my imagination. But he knew what I was seeing.”
“It is the first sign of the Guardian gene. The otherworldly is all around us, Asher, but we cannot control who will gain the sight. If they have forgotten their bloodline, they sometimes end up institutionalized for paranoia.”
“And you just leave them there?”
“Sometimes there is not much we can do. Seeing the otherworldly doesn’t mean you can fight it. I know your father thought that you might be a Sentinel. At first, he thought that you may not have the gene at all. I know Michael hoped that would be true. It was unlikely considering your parentage, but it has happened before. But even as a Sentinel, that doesn’t mean you are safe, especially not as a Pendragon. It doesn’t mean the monsters ignore you. It only means you don’t have the wherewithal to physically fight back.”
“Sentinels don’t have any powers…ever?” Asher said thinking of Kenny and how he seemed to get hurt every other day and he wasn’t even facing Otherworlders, only run of the mill bullies like Lacey.
“Sentinels may have innate powers. But they do not gain the same endowments when they fight. Sometimes they can cast spells or wield magical weapons, but not always.”
“Weapons like Excalibur?” Asher said.
“Doubtful.”
“If Sentinels don’t get powers, what can they do against the Otherworlders?”
“Mostly, they have their wits and the journals of our ancestors. They study. They learn and they are of invaluable aid to the orders they serve. It doesn’t mean they can’t fight. It just means they aren’t as naturally gifted as the Knights. That is why we stress the physical so much here. If you never gain powers, at least you are fit and strong. You are not defenseless.”
“I don’t want this,” Asher said shaking his head.
“It doesn’t matter. It will still find you. Just because you aren’t prepared for what is coming doesn’t mean it won’t come. You are a Pendragon. You should know this. You should sense it the same way the monsters sense you. It should be in your very bones.”
Asher nodded reluctantly. He had felt uneasy since the day his parents died, and the nightmares still hadn’t stopped. “What is it, Aunt Evelyn?” He asked.
“Can’t you feel it?” She asked softly. “Go on,” she said. “Close your eyes. Tell me what you feel.”
Asher closed his eyes. “I feel edgy, like my skin is too tight, and I always want to look over my shoulder.”
“And so you should. A great darkness is coming.”
“What does that even mean?” Asher said with a cynical tone.
“It means we must prepare. It will come. We must not be defenseless when it does. And you must be willing to take your place against it.”
“But don’t you see, Aunt Evelyn. My place isn’t here. I don’t have any magic. But Jules is defenseless one. She saw them too. Even if she is a Sentinel…”
“No,” his aunt said. “Sentinels are not brought here as a matter of course. Unless there are extenuating circumstances…unless they are specifically targeted or something kills their only family, we leave them where they are. We allow them to live their lives.”
“But Jules belongs here. Sharon and Dad were her family.”
His Aunt Evelyn rubbed her head and entreated him again. “Think about what you are saying. You propose we bring her here. We uproot her mundane life on the chance…the slight chance… that she will gain the powers to protect herself?”
“How else will she protect herself?” Asher snapped. “Call 911?”
“Asher, bringing her here brings her close to you. Your Pendragon blood is what draws them. You are more danger to her than anything she is likely to encounter in the mundane world. Think about it, Asher. At the convention center, she got some scratches and bruises only because she was in the way. You got stabbed with poisoned claws.”
Asher stilled. “How do you know that?” He asked. “You weren’t there.”
His aunt sighed. “The hospital called here when they couldn’t get in touch with your father,” she said. “Despite our differences, Michael at least had enough sense to put me as an emergency contact. He knew if you were attacked, I would know it was no accident, or random mugging that put you in the hospital.”
Asher was momentarily taken aback. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“What would that have gained?” She asked. “You had enough to deal with at the time.”
He stared at her. “That’s why you weren’t surprised when I called.” His voice broke as he put the scenario together in his head. Tears suddenly welled up clogging his throat. “Did you already know they were dead?”
“Yes.” Her voice was soft. “At least I knew Michael was.”
Asher stared at her for a long moment unable to voice his anguish. He thought she was heartless for missing her brother’s funeral, but this was callous on a whole different level. She knew. She knew her brother was dead, and she let her nephew find him that way.
Asher would never forget what he saw that night. The image was indelibly etched into his brain and that was her fault. Nothing would let him forgive her for that.
“You could have told me,” he said harshly. “You could have warned me before…”
“There is a protocol to follow,” she said. “I notified
the Council. They were supposed to send someone to intercept you, to prevent you returning home. But what I did, or did not do on that day, does not change the fact that your friend is safer without you by her side.”
Evelyn’s voice softened, but she was still resolute. “I know you will miss her, but this is a good time to cut ties, Asher. I know it is hard, but most teens separate at the end of their senior year. Friends you thought would be there forever go off to college. For a few years, you call and text. Then you only get Christmas cards until you see them again at your tenth reunion. That’s life.”
“Not me and Jules,” Asher said shaking his head.
“Nonetheless, there are dark forces gathering and now is not the time to involve her. Are we agreed?”
Asher did not agree. Not completely, but he also didn’t want to put Jules in danger.
“Right now, you need to learn to protect yourself,” his aunt insisted. “You are young. Untrained and vulnerable. There are Otherworlders seeking you. You can’t protect her. You can only put her in danger.”
“Do you know why?” Asher asked. “Why do they want to kill me?”
“You are a Pendragon. For some that is enough,” she said. “Beyond that, I do not know.”
Asher had to applaud the fact that at least she was honest.
“The fact that there were two attempts on your life, concerns me,” she continued.
“It concerns me too,” Asher admitted.
Maybe his aunt was right. Maybe he was just putting Jules in danger by being near her. As much as he wanted her here, he could not think of himself now. He must think of Jules’ safety.
“I’ll write to Jules,” he said, not completely convinced that she did not belong here.
“That is for the best,” his aunt replied.
17
Undead Constructs
Asher was almost a week into the term when he began to think that perhaps his aunt was right, and Jules might be the safer one. Surely, the teachers were trying to kill them all. Classes were divided into study and practical knowledge with three days a week on non-magical fighting skills and two days on theory. Only there was so much to learn that theory regularly carried over into the weekend. Plus, it was hard to concentrate on class when your body ached. Asher had thought that he was in pretty good shape, but Whitehall soon proved him wrong.
In addition to the physical training, it seemed as if every class was on the opposite end of the campus. After a while, he realized it was planned that way.
His next class was with Professor Palmer in Merlin Hall, which was, as expected, on the other side of the massive campus. Of course it was. Asher tucked his books into his backpack and ran.
Asher met up with Joel and the others as they jogged briskly across the campus, Asher said, “I should bring a pillow to Professor Palmer’s class. I’m always asleep before it ends.”
“Why do you think that Connor and I sit in the back?” Phoenix asked.
“I really don’t think that’s why you sit in the back,” Galina chided her with a knowing smile.
Phoenix stuck out her tongue.
“I don’t think he’s that bad,” said Kenny. “The information about the first journals was interesting and the reasons why so many magical texts have not survived.”
“And the oral traditions,” Dorren added, while Joel made gagging noises.
“I think I slept through that part,” said Asher.
Kenny took the moment to explain. “Well, books which are not useful, fall out of favor and are lost,” said Kenny. “They often had to recopy them by hand. No one would do that for things no one needed.”
“And,” Dorren added, “if the oral tradition was strong and already passed through generations of people reciting it like poems and songs, everyone probably already knew it. So why bother to write it down again?”
“That explains why what is left from the early days is mostly herbals and potions recipes,” said Galina, except for several of the Knights’ journals, which have drawings of the Otherworlders and lists of methods to kill them.
“Cookbooks,” said Asher. “So, Lacey was right.”
“He’s still a shit,” said Joel.
They all agreed as they entered Professor Palmer’s classroom.
Professor Palmer had them open their books and Asher yawned as Palmer started to read, or at least recite the text without looking at the pages. Asher smiled grimly at the show, but he was not unduly impressed. Jules could do the same thing after a few read-throughs. Asher supposed that is what Dorren was referring to when he said the oral tradition meant that people just remembered all this shit verbatim.
His memory was not up to the task. As Professor Palmer spoke in his dull monotone voice, Asher struggled to stay awake.
“You will remember that written magical text falls into three categories. Personal charms and spells; incantations and rituals, and magical prayers which are usually recorded in the sentinel grimoires. Prayers include inscriptions on amulets such as the one pictured in your book. This is one of the earliest amulets from Grand Prince Vladimier Monomax in the late eleventh century. As you can see from the picture this is a gold amulet from Cernihiv.”
If we can see from the picture, Asher thought miserably, we could just read the material ourselves.
“Can anyone tell me why gold is significant?” Professor Palmer asked.
No one moved. No one raised their hand. Asher surmised that it took just that long for the class to fall back asleep.
Professor Palmer, probably assuming the same thing, answered his own question. “Because gold was collected in Christian churches at the time.”
“But isn’t silver better for weapons,” Kenny added, with a hand raised, pen in hand, proving that at least one person was awake.
“That is true, but remember we are not talking about weapons. We are talking about talismans for mental and spiritual protection, not physical protection.”
“Oh, I see,” said Kenny nodding. “Talismans were most often blessed by the church. So, by Sentinels, rather than Knights.”
“Yes.” Professor Palmer agreed. “Knights may also have the power to work such spells, but many have trained their abilities for a more forthright attack. Gold is a powerful magical conductor.”
Dorren raised his hand. That made two people still awake, Asher thought.
“Can’t amulets be cursed as well as blessed?” Dorren asked.
“It is possible, but we must remember the Knights Templar were already active by the 12th century. The Knights of the Round Table, date much earlier. The people at that time believed, the power of the holy orders to be unassailable. So, an amulet, especially one given by the church, was something to be trusted. Both knights and sentinels held blessed objects of protection for years, starting as early as the Druidic tradition, but a blessing is made whole by belief. Blessings and blessed objects were also common in the Judaic Kabbalist tradition which predates Christianity.”
As Palmer droned on, Asher began to lose his will to live.
“The distinction between magic and religion is a modern one. This division is also more characteristic of Western Europe than Eastern Europe, as I’m sure Professor Stellanovich has told you.”
Asher did remember something about that. He blinked hard to stay awake.
“The roots of this division lie in the late medieval period. The church, which controlled most of the formal writing at this time, purged many texts which were attributed to heretics. A separation of magic and religion occurred. Many grimoires were lost or burned.”
“Along with their owners,” interjected Kenny.
“Yes,” Professor Palmer agreed. “After the purge, Otherworlders were classed largely as demons, and new grimoires were deemed personal and secret. They were no longer freely traded or shared, tending to be passed down within families or secret societies to protect the knowledge and the Guardians from being accused of witchcraft.”
“But mundanes can’t even see the Otherw
orlders. How would they classify them as anything, demons or otherwise?” Phoenix asked.
Asher glanced over his shoulder; surprised Phoenix was awake.
“You are right, Miss Quinn. Mundanes do not see them, but they can see the effects of their power, humans drained of blood or energy; dead animals, failed crops.”
Phoenix nodded.
“The mundanes killed both Otherworlders and Guardians,” said Kenny, who was sitting in front of Asher. Ken was obviously reading ahead. Asher noticed he was on a completely different page than Professor Palmer, but he had a finger in the book to hold the place.
“Blood thirsty lot aren’t they?” Lacey said.
“Not as blood thirsty as the Otherworlders,” answered Joel.
Professor Palmer continued his recitation, telling the class that mundanes often made no distinction between the Otherworlders who were feeding on them and the Guardians who were trying to protect them. Both were killed indiscriminately for witchcraft. After several boring minutes cataloging which Guardians were killed for witchcraft, the book went back to discussing the types of Otherworlders who fed on humans. A few had been hunted nearly to extinction by Guardians. Others still flourished.
Asher was about ready to nod off again when Dorren, commented, “But not all Otherworlders are mindless.” His movement and voice made Asher blink awake as Professor Palmer answered.
“Most Otherworlders feed on something that humans have, but you are correct. Not all of those creatures are mindless. When Otherworlders can reason, however primitively, they are much more dangerous than a creature that is just interested in having you for dinner.”
“But isn’t that what most of them want?” Phoenix asked. “Dinner.”
“Yes, but not always,” Professor Palmer agreed.
“What about the fae?” Dorren added. “They have lived peacefully with humans for centuries.”