by Gregory Heal
The dark sorcerer scanned below a fierce midday sun as he made out Feralot’s tracks in the dry, forsaken ground. Flying high above the moving city, Draconex took stock of his kingdom. Everything on it was his, of course, but that wasn’t enough for him. Once he awakened Lord Ferox, he would be given a realm to rule, then before long he would add another realm to his dominion, and another, until they were all under his complete and utter control.
He licked his lips in anticipation. Soon . . . but right now, he merely ruled over Feralot. That would have to do.
His impregnable city had four towers in each corner, high walls connecting them. In its center was the tallest and most imposing structure, where at the top rested his den. Below that same tower was the mystical engine that propelled Feralot, housing the source of all dark magic: the ShadowCrystal.
As Volcanor came in for a landing near one of the guard towers, Draconex commanded his dragon to release Lancaster when they were three feet from the ground. He heard a satisfying thud as she struck Feralot’s ever-moving surface. In seconds, Volcanor had retracted his wings and Draconex slid from his herculean beast, petting it on the nose for a job well done.
He was about to order Volcanor back to the dragon dungeon when he noticed that Lancaster was standing up. He pushed off the ground and sprinted toward her with his rings ready; but as he got closer, he slowed down, realizing that who he was looking at wasn’t Lancaster or even a person at all, but instead merely a rudimentary mold of Lancaster.
Unable to comprehend how she knew the moltic spell, he picked up speed again and charged at the mold, screaming in his anger. He lowered his head and ran straight through it, channeling the bruteness of a rhinoceros and splintering it with ease. As pieces of the hard shell landed on the ground, Draconex unclenched his teeth, closed his trembling fists into balls, and lifted his chin to the sky, unleashing a deafening yell that frightened even Volcanor, the King of Dragons.
Draconex hoped Malcolm was well enough for a new lesson; he needed to take his anger out on someone.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Distorted sounds.
Muffled conversation.
Those were the sensations Jen felt when she woke up a second time.
Jen tried opening her eyes, but they felt so heavy that she could barely lift them open. She was still immensely tired, as if hit with a bad case of jet lag, but that didn’t stop her from trying to say something.
“Vic . . . ?”
His name came out more like a moan, but it was loud enough to be heard. The far-off conversation stopped. She held her breath and listened as someone quickly walked over to her. Finding the strength to open one eye, Jen was able to pick out through her hazy vision a person standing over her. She blinked a couple of times to get her eyes to focus, and the fuzzy form in front of her sharpened into a man she had never seen before.
He was looking down at her with a concerned look on his face. Jen stared at this mystery man, intent on trying to remember if she had seen him before. He had short, dirty-blond hair that was blown up off his forehead; a straight, Romanesque nose; a chiseled jawline; and eyes so blue it was as if Jen were looking into a clear morning sky. He looked to be in his mid-twenties. He had a strong yet gentle grip as he checked Jen’s pulse.
A marble-size pendant that held a miniature version of what Jen thought was the Milky Way galaxy swung on a chain around his neck as he looked back at the woman with whom he had been talking. “She’s awake and stable. Send for Vic, please.”
Soon it was just him and Jen in the space, which looked to be a small, circular hut. Two windows were cut from the stone walls, letting in natural light. There weren’t many amenities to be seen: only the bed on which she lay, a nightstand on which her diary rested, and a chair propped up again the far wall.
“Vic?” Jen asked again, this time more articulate.
“Don’t worry, he’s coming,” the young man reassured her.
With all of her strength, Jen pushed herself up so her back rested on the headboard of the bed. Feeling a chill, she wrapped her arms around her chest.
“Here,” said the young man. He reached down and pulled out a fleece blanket from beneath the bed and draped it over her upper body. “I’m Gavin, by the way.”
Jen immediately looked up and met his eyes. She wondered if he was the same Gavin that Victor had saved from the Pit. “Gavin,” Jen repeated, smiling slightly. “Gavin Kingsland?”
The young man’s head twitched back in surprise. “Yes . . . have we met before?”
Before Jen could respond, Victor walked in and declared, “Jenny, I’m so glad you’re up!”
He propped his staff on the nearest wall before coming straight over to her. Gavin stood up and let Victor take his place on the side of the bed.
“We didn’t know how long it would take for you to wake up.”
He put a hand on her shoulder. Jen braced herself, but she was amazed to not feel shooting pain from the cuts from the dragon’s claws. With renewed strength, she sloughed off the blanket and lifted her sleeves up to reveal scars instead of claw-like lacerations.
Remembering how Skarmor had healed Treeow back at Hephalon’s compound, Jen smiled and looked at Victor. “Did Skarmor heal me?”
He returned the smile and nodded. “When we saw you at the edge of the Amaranthine Forest, you were out cold and your shoulders looked pretty bad. It took them a few hours to heal, and since they were so deep they left some scarring. I’m sorry.”
“Sorry? Don’t be.” Jen crossed her arms, touching both scars at the tops of her shoulders. “You both saved me—that’s all I prayed for.”
Where would I be without Vic and Skarmor? Jen asked herself, extremely thankful.
Then she remembered how she got out of the forest.
“Was Treeow there when you found me?”
Victor slightly furrowed his brow. “Tree . . . ow?”
Jen put a hand on her forehead. “Sorry, um, the cat that we saw at Heph’s place? He led me out of the forest.”
“No, you were all alone.” Victor looked quizzically at Jen. “You named it?”
“Yeah, you like it? Treeow. Like ‘meow,’ since he’s a cat, and ‘tree,’ since he came from the forest.” Jen slid her fingers together, implying the fusion of the two words.
Victor looked at Gavin, who crossed his arms and shrugged, smiling. He then looked back at Jen with a serious gleam in his eyes. “The Amaranthine Forest goes on for miles and miles, and has the power to confuse whomever is unlucky enough to find themselves in it. The indigenous animals are nothing short of rabid. I’m so grateful that . . . Treeow found you first,” Victor said, expressing relief. “No one who has entered has ever returned. Except for you. And Treeow, I suppose.”
Jen blinked a few times, now realizing how dire her situation had truly been. “I’m seriously the only person who has made it out alive?”
Victor nodded, pursing his lips as he turned to look at Gavin.
The young man crossed his arms and dropped his gaze to the floor, dejected. “Years ago, one of my friends was dared to spend a night there . . .” Gavin recounted, his eyes beginning to mist. “He was never seen again.” He grimaced as a lone tear trickled down his cheek.
Jen felt herself welling up, moved by what Gavin had said so much that she tossed the covers aside and stood up. “I’m so sorry. That’s . . . horrible.” She walked to Gavin and hugged him; her heart nearly skipped a beat when she felt his arms encircle her.
Gavin sniffed. “Thanks.”
Closing her eyes, Jen squeezed him.
“And that’s why I’m very thankful I didn’t lose you, Jen,” Victor said from behind her.
Jen went from hugging Gavin to hugging Victor. “I’m glad you were the one to find me. I’m still not sure how I even wound up in the Amarathon Forest.”
“Amaranthine,” Victor corrected with a tender wink.
“Amaranthine . . . right.” Jen pulled away and touched her forehead with the pal
m of her hand, trying desperately to fill in the missing spaces between being taken by Draconex and waking up alone in the forest.
“I tailed Draconex for a while until I noticed you had escaped,” Victor explained, bringing her back to the bed. “Volcanor, his dragon, was still holding you, only it wasn’t you—it was a mold of you.”
Jen lifted an eyebrow in mild confusion as she sat back down. “Okay, it’s official: this is the weirdest thing that’s happened since I’ve met you,” Jen confessed. “A mold . . . of me?”
“That’s right.” Victor stood up and made his way to one of the small hut’s windows, resting his elbows on the windowsill. “The result of a moltic spell.” He turned around to face her. “You know how snakes and other reptiles shed skin as they grow or when they regenerate limbs? That is exactly what the moltic spell does, except the mold it creates is as protective as reinforced steel.”
“I can’t believe I accidentally did that,” Jen breathed.
“It was no accident,” Gavin chimed in, having regaining control of his emotions. “As an omnimancer, you have an inherently strong nexus—even if it might be undeveloped right now. You must have instinctively tapped into it to save yourself.” His eyes twinkled as he looked at Jen.
Jen blushed. Smiling, she broke eye contact. Feeling her forehead, she wondered aloud, “How did I survive the fall if my mold stayed with Draconex?”
Victor shrugged. “We’ll never know. Maybe your nexus conjured another spell to cushion your fall.”
“Yeah, maybe . . .” Jen stared through one of the windows at the blue sky.
A tense silence fell over the trio.
“Oh, I apologize,” Victor said, adding a light chuckle in his realization. “Jenny, this is Gavin Kingsland.”
Gavin laughed. “Your new tenderfoot is on top of her game. She guessed who I was right when she woke up.”
“This is what I get for arriving late,” Victor said, throwing his hands up in mock surrender.
“Well, I’m not that good,” Jen admitted, perking up. “Vic already told me about how you two met.”
“Then you’ll know how much I mean it when I tell you that Victor is a great mentor and sorcerer.” A tone of deep respect had entered Gavin’s voice. “There’s no one better to instruct you in terramancy. Made me wish I wasn’t an astromancer.”
Victor placed a hand on Gavin’s shoulder. “Thank you, son, but I won’t have her for long. Omnimancers.” Victor exaggerated that last word, sticking a thumb in Jen’s direction. “They think they’re so special since they can learn all of the Mancy planes.”
“Hey,” Jen said, sitting up straighter. “Don’t hate the sorceress, hate the magic.”
“Oh, that’s good.” Gavin snickered. He looked at Victor and was greeted with a deadpan expression.
“Don’t encourage her,” Victor said with a wink.
Jen lifted up her necklace chain and said to Gavin, “I like your necklace pendant.”
Gavin looked down and held it between his index finger and thumb. “Thanks. It’s my totem.” He popped the marble out of its silver casing. Jen’s jaw dropped when she saw it grow to the size of a softball.
“Correction: I love your totem,” Jen said, seeing the Milky Way slowly spin inside his orb.
“So do I.” Gavin smiled, shrinking it back to the size of a marble and replacing it in his necklace.
Victor looked at Jen, then at Gavin. “Sorry to interrupt, but do you mind if I talk with Jen in private?”
“Of course not!” Gavin left the hut, but not before saying, “It was nice meeting you, Jen.”
“You too.” Jen waved as he left. She glanced at Victor, who stood silent with a lifted eyebrow. “What?” she asked innocently.
Victor brushed off her question and dragged the only chair in the hut closer to the bed. “We may have to expedite your training. If Draconex has decided to go after you himself, we’re running out of time.”
“I can’t believe he ambushed us.” Jen was still reeling from her personal encounter with him. The way he spoke, smelled, dragged her by the hair . . .
“Draconex is starting to take matters into his own hands, I’m guessing since Malcolm hasn’t been successful,” Victor said.
Jen didn’t say anything. Even though Malcolm had betrayed her and kidnapped her parents, Jen still felt a twinge of sadness. Sadness that Malcolm wasn’t truly that great boyfriend he had portrayed for the first three months she had known him. Sadness that he was tricked by Draconex into converting to dark magic.
Victor changed the subject. “Well, before we start your instruction in terramancy, why don’t I show you around?”
That was able to shake Jen out of her thoughts. “Yeah, where the heck am I?”
“Here.” Victor extended a hand. “Let me show you.”
Jen took it and was happy to find her strength had returned. Victor stepped to the door and pulled it open to reveal a community of similar small huts.
“Welcome to Camelore, the home base for the League of Light,” Victor said as he stepped out into the sunlight.
Waiting for her eyes to adjust, Jen followed him outside.
Jen spent the next hour taking in the spectacular view of Camelore while Victor taught her of its origins. As they strolled around a shimmering lake and under beautiful Dogwood trees with white petals floating to the ground, making it seem as if it had freshly snowed, Victor explained that Camelore was the last remaining stronghold of the Sorcery Guild at the time of the Great Battle.
Not knowing if they could defeat Lord Ferox and his dark magic, the first Elder Synod combined their powers to lift Camelore from Earth, raising it to the sky where it would be eternally preserved, along with its traditions, culture, and school of sorcery. The twenty-four mystras charged with protecting Camelore and the last omnimancer, Philip Lancaster II, eventually became the last sorcerers in all the realms after the Great Battle.
“What about Genevieve’s sister, Gwendolyn? Didn’t she survive the battle?” Jen asked as they hiked an enormous bluff that showed its age by the different colors of sediment layers.
Victor’s staff tapped the rocky ground as he ascended—clink-clink-clink.
“Unfortunately, Gwendolyn’s injuries were far too great, and she passed on shortly after, but not before a few of the Camelore sorcerers arrived in response to Genevieve’s beacon spell. They were too late to save both of the Lancaster sisters, but with Gwendolyn’s dying breath, they were given the responsibility to guard the Halostone until Philip was old enough to take up the mantle and protect it.” The emotion behind Victor’s words conveyed sadness, but with a glimmer of hope. “They became known as the Camelore Twenty-Four and were responsible for rebuilding the Sorcery Guild here. After a century, the school had outgrown the small confines of this floating island, so they found an uninhabited realm to establish their new order.” The sunlight glanced off of his staff, making it glisten as he reached the bluff’s peak.
“Azumar,” Jen realized, trying not to lose her balance on the rocks.
“Exactly. Now, Camelore is reserved for training new Light Seekers.” Victor smiled and led her to the bluff’s edge.
Stopping a few feet from the edge, Jen was given an almost complete view of Camelore. Sweeping her eyes over its verdant landscape, azure ponds, and community of stone huts, she rested her eyes on what looked to be the edge of the world. She remembered Victor telling her that Camelore had been lifted into the sky, but the realization that she was indeed on a floating landmass didn’t strike her until she witnessed it with her own eyes. With awe, she saw the edges break off into the wispy, blue sky of the Earth’s stratosphere. The cumulus clouds that swept by below gave her the illusion that Camelore was moving at breakneck speed when, in reality, it was motionless, miles above the Earth’s crust.
“Pretty amazing, isn’t it?” Victor marveled, looking down at everything.
A slight, warm breeze swayed Jen’s curls. It felt nice. “I have yet to not be amaz
ed at what you show me.” Jen looked at Victor, and he met her eyes, his salt-and-pepper hair ruffling in the wind.
He grinned, then tapped his staff gently on the ground and pointed to the north. “You see that tree in the distance? That is the Arbor Sacré—the heart of Camelore.”
Jen looked and saw the biggest and most beautiful tree she had ever seen. Its trunk was massive and its branches held the largest leaves, which were not only green, but every shade of the rainbow. Along the tree’s border was the shape of a large pentagon.
“What’s surrounding the tree?”
“That is the Pentarena—the original training ground for the Sorcery Guild, before it was moved to Azumar. It’s predominantly used by Light Seekers and their tenderfeet now. It is split up into five sections, one for every Mancy plane.”
Jen noticed the five sections that were divided equally to form a glass pentagon around the Arbor Sacré.
She looked at Victor eagerly. “Is that where I’ll train with you?”
He looked at her and smiled. “Yes, my dear.”
Jen smiled back, then returned her gaze over all of Camelore, taking in the enchanting view. To the east of the stone huts, Jen noticed something that she had overlooked when she first stepped outside of her recovery hut. The dwellings were placed in a large circle around a building that looked to be in the shape of a stout cylinder with no top. Instead of having a roof, it was open and had a metal arch that touched both sides of its rims.
“Hey, Vic.” Jen pointed. “What’s that building?”
“That, my dear, is the ceremonial chambers for the current Camelore Twenty-Four. Let me show you.”
Victor waited until Jen was ready to leave, then began to descend the bluff.
The returning hike was quiet, giving Jen some time to think. She realized that the deeper she dug into her family’s history, the more tragic it became: Genevieve sacrificed herself to stop Lord Ferox . . . Gwendolyn died from complications suffered during the Great Battle . . . Philip went mad after obsessing over the lost MystiCrystals . . . and her birth parents, murdered because they wouldn’t reveal the Halostone’s location.