When she arrived at her room, it was every bit as underwhelming as she expected. The room was sparsely furnished with a bunk bed against the far wall, two writing desks, a closet and a single window. The walls were a dull white, devoid of patterns or décor. The carpet was the same drab charcoal grey as their coats. She took comfort in the fact that she would not be here long.
Saba dropped her bag at the foot of the bed and sat on the bottom bunk. She pulled off her boots then laid herself down on the mattress. It was too firm for her liking, but that’s what Sleeping Spells were for. Saba distantly heard the footsteps of the other recruits as they moved into their quarters. Presently, another young woman entered the room.
Her skin was pale as snow and her fiery red hair was pulled back tightly in a bun. The woman’s porcelain cheeks were densely crowded with freckles and her dark eyes shone brightly with a youthful innocence.
“Hey there!” she said with a smile. “I’m Petra.” She walked up to the bed and extended her hand. Saba stood up and shook it in a perfunctory manner.
“Saba.” she replied simply.
“It looks like we’re roommates.” Petra commented.
“So, it does.” Saba replied as she reclined again on the bottom bunk.
“That prison is really something isn’t it?” Petra continued. “The tapestries and the friezes inside are absolutely majestic!”
“Indeed.” Saba said as she stared up at the bunk above her.
“My father told me this prison was once a castle which was then converted into a prison a few centuries ago. He’s such a magical history buff…”
Petra went on to endlessly prattle about her family, her schooling and boys. Saba mostly did her best to ignore it. She pulled out a copy of the Creator’s Vows in the hope that the sight of her reading would discourage Petra from talking more. She did not take the hint. As Petra continued to ramble, Saba only responded with short one or two-word answers. Petra continued to regale her with stories about her friends and her childhood until they had to leave for physical training.
After several hours of sparring and weapons drills, the recruits were given a welcome dinner in the mess hall. The seasoned officers mingled with the new recruits and ate side by side with them. The air was filled with conversation along with the warm aromas of cooking as the kitchen churned out stew, roasted vegetables and rolls of bread. Bursts of laughter punctuated the general chatter in the room while only a few outliers remained quiet. Saba sat at the end of a table apart from the crowd and dined alone. She ate her fill, spoke to no one then retired to her quarters for the night.
The next morning, Saba and the other recruits were roused promptly at five in the morning. Her eyes snapped open as Officer Marcus Jones bellowed up and down the hallway. His fist pounded on the doors as the recruits leaped out of bed. Once they were all awake, he herded them all outside into the cold and dark pre-dawn. The recruits marched hurriedly through the corridors as Jones urged them to march faster. The train of recruits cut through the commons area and out into the cold.
The sky was still black as night as the crimson glow of the Tower burned brightly above them. Amidst Officer Jones’ verbal lashing, the recruits ran laps around the outer wall. They scurried like mice from a hungry cat as their feet pounded the perimeter. Their breath rose in clouds and their lungs burned but they dared not slow too much. Out of all the recruits in her dormitory, only Saba trailed behind. Marcus saw her slower pace and frowned. He summoned a whip and cracked it fiercely on the ground. Saba jumped and quickened her pace. Under Marcus’ amplified cries, the recruits ran to the limits of their stamina, then ran more.
Then as they bent over huffing and puffing, their combat training began. Officer Jones herded them to the arena where he instructed them in various wristlocks, throws, and takedowns. He watched closely while they rehearsed the techniques on one another under his scrutinizing gaze. Some did it with finesse and others with halting awkwardness. Saba, in particular, was more successful with the wristlocks than the throws. She only barely managed to throw her partner while her wristlocks were smooth, with only the slightest flaws. He corrected her sternly and she took the feedback with patience.
As the sun peeked over the horizon, Amelia took over for weapons instruction. She drilled them on how to summon bladed weapons and watched while they practiced their kata. The recruits moved in near-perfect unison as they cut the frigid morning air with their glowing swords. Amelia’s only concern was Saba’s weapon, which flickered several times and nearly vanished completely during the drilling phase. That lack of focus had to be burned out of her.
When their training session was over, she marched them back to their dorms where they had exactly five minutes to shower and change. Then they were given ten minutes to eat breakfast in the mess hall before reporting back to the training arena for sparring.
Saba stood before one of her smirking peers with her wooden sword at the ready. The tallish boy of pale skin and platinum blond hair across from her stood with his weapon raised in an aggressive stance. He advanced on her and slashed his sword diagonally as Saba parried and deflected his wooden blade. He raised his foot to kick her in the stomach and she willfully took the hit. She stopped her arm from catching his leg and groaned in pain when it landed. Saba stumbled backward and almost recovered too late as the boy resumed his attack. His blows rained on her from every angle as she blocked and parried every stroke. The boy growled in frustration as he spun around and slashed horizontally. Saba delayed her instinct for only a moment before she ducked beneath his blade. Then she elbowed him savagely in the ribs. He grunted loudly and clutched at his side as he staggered backward. A corner of Saba’s mouth lifted in amusement.
The boy glared at her and almost charged again but Amelia threw her arm out and stopped him. “Plamen. Calm yourself.” she said.
He sighed and dropped his eyes to the ground. Plamen breathed slowly for a few moments while the other recruits continued to spar around them. When the anger had gone from his face, the round resumed.
Amelia observed the recruits with a neutral gaze as they sparred in the arena. For the most part, she was pleased. She saw many varied combinations of attacks and also many different styles of sword fighting. They wielded their weapons competently and with finesse. They were a hard, resilient bunch and many of them showed promise.
The only one who seemed to struggle was Saba. Amelia watched as her partner, Plamen knocked her to the ground several more times. Most of the attacks that struck were blatantly telegraphed and, still, they landed. She always rose to her feet, though and never got frustrated, which was a good sign. But perhaps she required more training before she was ready for the field. “Rotate partners!” Amelia commanded loudly.
Kara Hartman Georgetown, District of Columbia, Present
The next morning at the studio, Kara entered the corridor that led to her workspace. She strolled through the halls as other artists walked by and waved good morning. Kara smiled and waved back. The walls on either side of her were adorned with murals and portraits interspersed by the open doors of the studios. As Kara passed, she caught glimpses of her fellow creatives moving about and preparing for the day’s work. Photographers erected their tripods and lights; sculptors prepared their clay and draftsmen readied their easels. She reached the end of the passage and saw Daniela standing before a flyer on the wall. She turned her head and greeted her with a smile.
“Buenos Días, boss,” she said.
“Good morning, Dani,” Kara replied.
“Have you heard about the exhibition yet?” She pointed to the flyer.
“No, I haven’t.” Kara read the advertisement.
In the next three months, the Paradigm Gallery planned to host a group exhibition for the city’s best up and coming talent. It was to be a celebration of how the city expressed itself through its visual arts. There was only a limited number of spots available and they were accepting portfolio submissions from all over the city.
Kar
a smiled at the opportunity to share her work publicly when suddenly she remembered her inventory was very low. “Dani, can you contact our past clients and see if they would be willing to display my work at the exhibition?”
“Of course.”
That morning, Kara was much quieter than usual while she worked. She barely noticed Daniela’s feverish clicking at her laptop while she sat crouched before her canvas. The world around her was reduced to white noise while she deftly covered her canvas with bands of color. She blended them together with expert ease until she was satisfied with the gradient. Then she painted the waters of the harbor gleaming with golden reflections as the sun sank beneath its depths. The pier stretched out from the shore and was silhouetted against the fiery sky. Its dark buildings were outlined with fiery hues as tiny pedestrians walked along the streets. After several hours of steady, patient work Kara stood back from the canvas. It’s coming along. Still got a ways to go, though. She picked up her brush and resumed her work.
Two days later, the landscape was done. She and Daniela packaged the finished work and shipped it to the client. Over the next few days, Daniela accompanied Kara as she scouted the city for new locations to paint. She took reference photos while in between shoots, Daniela helped refine her artist statement. Kara held her camera up to a mural that illustrated two star-crossed lovers locked in an embrace. As she clicked the shutter release, Kara thought of Selene and wondered when she would see her again.
Kara wandered through the grounds and took photos of the trees and bushes. She zoomed in on flower petals and traipsed among the rows of dense foliage. Elegant fountains adorned the complex in verdant clearing and wide courtyards. Sitting areas with overhead views ere hemmed in with marble railings and banisters. The statues reminded her vaguely of the gardens at The Academy of Mystic Arts. Visions of a young Charlotte skipping beneath a dark canopy lingered on her thoughts as Kara looked through her viewfinder. She clicked the shutter release and another memory of Charlotte flashed through her mind. Charlotte stood over a teenage boy as he writhed and screamed on the ground. But her former friend only laughed. Kara shivered and thrust the memory away.
She returned to the mansion and found Daniela seated before the murals as she typed at her laptop. “Let’s grab lunch.” Kara said.
“Yes, boss,” Daniela replied. She closed her laptop and gathered her things. Then they left the property and hailed a taxi.
After a short ride through Georgetown, Kara and Daniela stepped out of the taxi and walked into a Vietnamese restaurant. The warm aroma of frying egg rolls wafted to Kara’s nose as she pulled off her gloves. She loosened her scarf as they got in line to place their orders. The dining area was tiny but spotless. Small tables dotted the immaculate hard-wood floor and the walls were adorned with abstract paintings. Once it was their turn, Daniela and Kara ordered their food and got a table by the window.
Kara slipped out her phone and replied to comments from her fans while Daniela clicked away on her computer. Within minutes, a waiter approached their table with two baskets of food and two tall glasses of tea. He set their lunches on the table and Kara thanked. But as he took away the tray, he accidentally knocked over Daniela’s glass. The tea spilled all over her lap and drenched her jeans.
“Oh! I’m so sorry ma’am,” the waiter said.
“It’s all right,” Daniela replied.
“Let me dry you off.” Then with a casual gesture he extracted the tea from her clothes and floated it back into her glass. Daniela’s eyebrows shot up in mild surprise and Kara grinned at her from across the table.
“Gracias, señor,” she said.
“You’re very welcome.” said the waiter. Then he walked away and tended to the other customers.
“Wouldn’t it be nice if you had magic like that? Then you wouldn’t have to worry about staining your clothes when you paint.” Daniela said.
Kara gave her a nervous laugh. “Yeah, Dani. That would be great.”
One evening, as Kara wrapped up at the studio she got a call from Selene. She stood at the faucet and rinsed her brushes under the running water when her phone suddenly chimed in her pocket. Kara almost had not heard the ringtone over the sound of the water. She switched off the faucet then quickly dried her hands on a towel. Then she pulled her phone out and answered the call.
“Hey.”
“Hey, Kara.”
“What’s up?”
“I had a stressful day at work and I’m beat. But I’d like to see you tonight if you want to come over?” Selene replied.
Kara grinned. “Yeah, I’d love to.”
“Cool. I’ll text you my address.”
“I’ll see you tonight.”
“See you.”
She placed her phone on the counter and continued to rinse her brushes. The thick acrylic paint gushed out from the bristles and swirled down the drain. A moment later, the screen of Kara’s phone lit up with Selene’s text.
As soon as Kara finished up at the studio, she donned her coat and strolled to the Foggy Bottom Metro. She took the train out to Adams Morgan and hailed a taxi which dropped her off at Selene’s apartment building. The high-rise towered over the crammed urban landscape filled with private balconies which were adorned with verdant planters. Up and down its multitude of floors, windows glowed as dusk approached.
Kara pushed through the glass revolving door and found herself in a pristine lobby with walls covered in abstract art. To her right was a front desk made of marble where a receptionist sat and answered questions from a cluster of visitors. Kara took the elevator to her left and rode it up to the fifth floor where Selene lived.
She knocked on the door and, in a few moments, she answered it. They greeted each other with a hug and Selene let her in. She followed her into the living room which looked like a battle zone. Selene’s clothes were strewn about on the black leather couches and the glass coffee table was cluttered with snacks and open bottles of whiskey. Across from Kara was a small bookcase filled with books of magic and demons. On top of it was a pink orchid which leaned outward from its pot.
“Sorry for the mess,” Selene said. She bent over the couch and plucked her clothes up from its cushions.
“It’s fine. My little brother, Anthony, was so much worse.” Kara replied. “He didn’t know the meaning of the word ‘organized.’ Whenever I visited his room at the Academy it always looked like a tornado went through it.”
Selene chuckled. “I know Chenzen would kill me if he saw my apartment now.” She exited the room and tossed her clothes into the hamper. “Please, sit.” Kara sat on the couch and turned toward Selene who settled herself on the opposite end.
“How was your day?” Kara asked. Selene swallowed a mouthful of whiskey.
“Hectic. I had a client dealing with an imp infestation at his orchard.”
“Imp infestation?” Kara exclaimed.
“Mmm-hmmm. His niece was toying with some powerful magic and accidentally tore a rift in reality. A bunch of imps came pouring through and started wreaking havoc. Apparently, they have a strong appetite for sweet things, which didn’t turn out so great for the apple trees.” Kara gasped. “I had to close the rift, then bind and send back every single one of them.”
“How many of them were there?”
“Twenty-something,” Selene shrugged.
Kara’s eyes and mouth went wide with astonishment. “Just one is bad enough!”
Selene nodded. “And after I sent back all the demons I regenerated the apple trees the best I could, but I’m not so great at healing.” She tipped the bottle of whiskey into her mouth and winced as the warm liquid rushed down her throat.
Kara laughed. “I remember one time, Charlotte and I summoned an imp and unleashed it on the boys’ dorm.”
“No way,” Selene said.
“It wrecked their room and every time they tried to capture it, it would just teleport away. It tore the curtains, ripped the pillows and knocked over books.”
“Geez.�
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“One of the senior students had to bind the demon and they had to get Professor Chang to send it back.”
“Wow. You two must have gotten into serious trouble for that,” Selene said with a smile.
“We did. Detention for a week and chores in the kitchen.”
“Well, well. Little miss prim and proper isn’t so innocent after all.”
Kara threw a pillow at Selene who laughed and swatted it away. “All of our pranks were Charlotte’s idea.”
“Sure, sure.” she replied with a chuckle. “So, you and Charlotte seemed pretty close. What happened between you?”
Kara looked away and her smile faded. “We had a falling out. We haven’t spoken in a while…”
Selene saw the pain in Kara’s eyes and touched her hand. “It’s okay. You don’t have to tell me. You wanna put on some music?”
Kara sighed. “Sure.”
“The records are over there.” Selene said as she pointed to a shelf next to the television. “I’ll go warm up some food for us.”
“Okay.”
Selene rose from the couch and went to the kitchen as Kara browsed through her collection. She pulled out a few records and was impressed by the selection: Bruce Springsteen, David Bowie, Tom Petty, Pat Benatar— all great artists, but not really what she was looking for. Suddenly, Selene called out from the kitchen. “Hey, is Thai okay?”
“Sounds great;” Kara called back. She perused the record collection until she stumbled upon an album by Elton John. Bingo. Kara smiled to herself and lifted the lid of the turntable. She turned it on and pulled the vinyl from its sleeve. Then she placed it delicately on the turntable and dropped the needle on the grooves as it spun.
In moments, the melody of an old famous tune filled the room. Selene walked back in with two steaming plates of Drunken Noodles and handed one to Kara. The warm aroma filled Kara’s nostrils as she took the plate from Selene. Then they cleared a space on the coffee table and sat crossed legged to enjoy their dinner together.
Dreams of Fire Page 4
