Remembering Majyk (Skazka Chronicles Book 1)

by Valia Lind

  When I finally do step around her, I recoil at the sight of me. My face wears an expression of determination and smugness. It’s like I've done something bad that I'm proud of. The thought tastes like the truth and I take a step away from my dream self. There's something here that I'm missing, but of course, I can't know what it is without the full extent of my memories.

  Everything I've seen so far, everything I've remembered, has just made me more confused. I have more questions now that I did at the beginning. As I watch my dream self smile at the plant and caress its petals, I'm left with more. The plant reaches toward me, much like one did in the forest, but then, instead of wrapping itself around my hand in comfort, it tries to pull way.

  I won't let it. My fingers wave in the air and the purple tint I keep seeing intensifies in color. The plant jerks forward, as if pulled by a magnet, and the dream self me smiles once the petals touch the skin. The plant almost seems to shudder at the contact and then it's gone.

  Shaking my head, I try to wrap my mind around what I just saw. The plant disappeared under the purple light. Completely. My dream self doesn't appear bothered at all. She seems to be enjoying herself. It would be nice to know what's going through her mind, what all of this means.

  But just as suddenly as I'm here, I'm gone.

  Landing on the mat with a bang, I grunt in annoyance. The dream weighs heavily on me, as if I've just come out of the water, fully clothed. I haven't told anyone about it and the frustration of more questions is fueling my adrenaline.

  "You've got to be kidding me!" I shout, tired of him always winning, as I jump to my feet and slam my heel into Brendan's stomach in the same move. He grunts, reaching for me, but I block him, sweeping his legs from under him. He rolls out of the way before I'm on top of him, and when I twist around, he has a sword in his hand.

  "That's not fair." I pout, keeping my stance, my eyes darting between the sword and the boy. He gives me a Cheshire cat grin and the urge to wipe it off his face is larger than the fact that he's armed and I'm at a disadvantage. I attack again, dodging his swings before finally landing a blow to his back. He stumbles giving me enough time to do a front flip, landing on top of him as he turns. His sword clutters to the floor, and I'm pinning him with my body.

  "Are you ever planning on teaching me how to do that sword trick?" I ask, trying to even out my breathing from all the exertion. I have a feeling that Brendan can easily throw me off now, but he continues to lay there, my legs around his middle, my hands on his wrists. He smiles then and my razor sharp vision is instantly on his lips. I have the biggest urge to lean down and taste them.

  Just like that, the air around us thickens and I move my gaze to meet his heated one. There is so much familiarity in this moment that I feel I can almost reach out and touch the memories floating up to the surface. Moving a fraction of an inch sends all of my nerve endings on alert, as my body becomes even better molded to Brendan's. There's no discomfort in our closeness, it's more like the complete opposite. The closer I am to him, the more at home I feel. I lean down, and then, I'm on the floor, face first.

  Smacking my palms against the mat, I look over my shoulder at where Brendan is now standing. He's grinning at me, so proud of himself for sneaking one past me, but I'm not fooled. I see the underlying tension in his muscles. He's not as unaffected as he pretends to be.

  "Once again, that's not fair." I mumble, sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of him.

  In the almost two weeks that I've been here, they've yet to even mention tutoring me in magic. I've brought it up but all I get is vague reasons and then a change of conversation.

  "It is what it is, zaichik." Brendan says, moving to the other side of the room for a drink of water. I remain seated in the middle of the floor, because I have a feeling that any proximity to him right now is dangerous for my health. Well, mostly his.

  “And what is this zaichik business. Are you going to tell me what it means?” I grumble.

  “It’ll come to you, I’m sure.” He replies, laughter in his voice.

  "You haven't answered my question, are you planning on teaching me your sword trick?" He takes a swig of water, turning to face me. I have a feeling that he's about to argue and when he opens his mouth, I'm right.

  "It's too dangerous, Cali. That's why we're working on your physical strength first. Once you're strong enough, we can introduce majyk. But until then—“

  "Until then what?" I ask when he doesn't continue. "I'm so sick of you treating me like I'm defective. Yes, my memories are gone. Yes, I don't know anything about who I am. But I'm not a child!" My voice rises with every word. I get to my feet, hands planted on my hips, staring Brendan down.

  "You can't coddle me and expect me to succeed. Everything you've told me about myself proves to me that I can handle this. Yet, here we are again. You playing your stupid tricks and I’m screaming at you in frustration. If that's how we've always been, I don't want any part of it."

  Fed up with his attitude, and my own reaction to his proximity, the words just pour out of me. There's no rhyme or reason to the sudden overwhelming emotions that are flushing through my body.

  "Calista."

  "Don't you dare to use that tone of voice with me!" I shout, raising my hands in the air and all the frustration seems to surge out of me.

  The sudden gust of wind pushes the furniture back against the wall with a bang. Brendan flies backwards, catching himself before he slams into a wall. That purple tint that I've seen in my dreams torpedoes through the space between us, making everything spin around me.

  I pull my hands to my body in shock, staring at the wreckage I created in a span of three seconds. My body begins to shake and I'm gasping for air. Suddenly, Brendan is in front of me, reaching for me, but I won't let him. Pulling my hands tightly against my heart, I try to keep it from exploding out of my chest.

  "Cali?" Brendan raises his hands up in the air, as if approaching a wounded animal. We've been here before, over a dozen times, and the memory of him walking towards me with that carefully calculated look on his face doesn't send me into a fit of pain. It just flashes before my eyes and then it’s gone.

  "What was that?" I whisper, still keeping myself tightly closed off. "I did that."

  "Yes, you did. It's your majyk, Cal. It's reawakening much faster than we expected."

  My eyes snap to his at that. But before I can say a word, I hear a noise behind me and I spin around to see Maxwell on the stairs.

  “So I’m super powered now?” I ask, but neither boy answers me and I’m getting more fed up by the second. They’re not doing this to me again.

  "I need some answers," I say, glaring at Maxwell, before turning my attention to Brendan. "I need them now."

  14

  Maxwell leads the way upstairs, with Brendan close on my heels. I'm keeping my distance, because I don't trust myself around anyone right now. I'm not sure how much Maxwell heard or saw, but he keeps throwing small glances my way. They're filled with too much meaning I cannot even begin to understand.

  When we reach the library, I settle myself into the corner chair, while Maxwell leans against the desk with Brendan beside him. I'm afraid looking at Brendan will set off another reaction, so instead, I focus on Maxwell. When neither one of them jump into it, I grunt in frustration.

  "Someone needs to start talking."

  My voice seems to snap them out of their daze, and I watch as they exchange a glance I'm probably not supposed to see. For the first time since coming here I know for a fact they're hiding something from me. I would like to call them out on it, but I want to see how much information they're willing to deliver on their own first. Not sure how that strategy makes sense to me, but it feels right, so I continue to watch them, waiting for someone to speak. It's Maxwell who finally does.

  "How are you feeling?" Not what I expected.

  "Like I can create a small tornado inside of a house when I get a little upset. How about you?" Whatever else that display of
magic has done, it apparently unleashed my feisty side as well. It's not as if I'm typically a pushover, but now I'm just done.

  "Well, there is a reason why your family was chosen for their duty. You are a powerful Volshebnitsya." Maxwell replies.

  "That's great and all," I say, when he doesn't continue, "But I need more than that if you're thinking I'm going along with anything else after this, without knowing every aspect of the operation."

  "You definitely sound more like yourself."

  I whip my head around, zeroing in on Brendan and his words. I'm sure I wasn't supposed to hear them, but magical hearing has once again proven useful.

  "Stuff like that," I point at Brendan, and the boys exchange another look, "is what I'm talking about. Answers. Now. Before I get really upset and rearrange all the books in this library. Why am I so powerful?"

  The last word dies out in the space around us and I'm amazed at having said it. I'm filled with venom I didn't know was running through my veins. Because I know without a doubt I would do that, and so much worse, if they don't start treating me as an equal.

  "You were a general," Brendan's words smash into me with conviction. I look at him, trying to understand the reluctance behind his statement, but I can't get a read on him.

  "So, I'm a protector and a general?"

  "It's complicated."

  "Well, un-complicate it for me. Because I can't do this anymore. You have to realize that by now." I want to stand and pace the length of this room, but I'm afraid of what would happen if I did. The power is still burning inside of me, and it's taking all of my self-restraint not to let it out into the open.

  "When I said you were part of a special family, I meant it." Brendan continues. "Yours has been the most skilled and powerful military force in Skazka. When you became of age, the protection of Znaniye was given to you, because everyone knew you would not fail."

  "Except I did."

  "No, you didn't."

  There's conviction in his statement that I don't understand. It's as if...he believes in me. Completely and totally. But I can't understand such blind faith because from my point of view, we've known each other for three months.

  "You didn't fail, Calista," Maxwell takes over the narrative, "Because the Knowledge is safe. It's somewhere no one can reach it. So you did your job well."

  "Except I managed to lose myself in the process." I can't sit still any longer. Moving off the chair, I start to pace, but don't make it far before Brendan is in front of me. He reaches for me, taking my hands in his before I can stop him.

  "I'm not afraid of you," he whispers, just low enough for me to hear. "I've never been afraid of you. Stop being afraid of yourself."

  It's the exact perfect thing to say and I feel the magic inside of me take a deep calming breath. Brendan is still holding my hands in his, but I'm no longer terrified I'll do something horrible. It's as if with his words, he flipped a switch, and now I'm just regular me again. I don't understand any of this. I must've said the words out loud because Maxwell answers.

  "We're going to try and help you understand, Cali. The power inside of you is different and more ancient that anything I’ve ever seen before. We’re being careful with what we tell you on purpose. Our main concern is not overloading you with answers or majyk, that will be detrimental to your health."

  "What do you mean?" I ask, tearing my eyes away from Brendan's.

  "I found something," Maxwell replies, raising his hand as I open my mouth in outrage. "That's why I was coming down to see you. I wasn't going to keep it from you."

  I'm not sure why I'm suddenly flying off a handle at every word, but that's exactly what I was about to do before Maxwell rushed on to add that last part. Brendan tugs on my hand, leading me back to the chair in front of the desk. Once I'm settled, he takes the other chair, allowing Maxwell take the floor.

  "What it is, is a majyk spell that might be able to open up your memory channels."

  "What?" Brendan and I exclaim at the same time.

  "It's very dangerous. I told you I didn't want to use majyk on you because we don't know what caused the block in the first place. It could hurt you more than it could help you."

  "We have to try!" I say, because I need this more than air. I need to feel whole again.

  "Cal, think about it." Brendan speaks up, but I won't be deterred now. A part of me is angry with him for keeping all these secrets, while the other part is outraged by the fact that I still seem to go along with it. Either way, I need distance.

  "We're doing it. We have to," I'm pleading with Maxwell, but I don't care. "You don't understand how horrible it is not to have yourself, not to know who you are. If there's even a small chance this will work, I want to do it."

  They must see the determination in me, because neither one objects. Maxwell takes a book from the table and exhales deeply.

  "We should go outside for this. We need all the help we can get."

  Maxwell leads the way through the house and out to the back porch. The storms that have been plaguing the world for the last few months haven't diminished . The rain that started when we got to Maxwell’s just got worse with every passing hour. I open my mouth to ask if going outside is really such a good idea, when the rain suddenly stops. I look over at Brendan in question and he nods his head toward Maxwell. Apparently, the guy can control the weather. The wonders never seize to amaze me. Even though I know nature is supposed to help me channel my inner self, at the moment, my outer self would really like to be inside the house.

  I haven't said two words to Brendan since the library and I can tell it's bugging him. We head further into the woods, with him brining up the rear. He's tense, and not just for the fear for me. I want to comfort him and that makes me that much more angry.

  "Cal—“ his voice reaches out to me, but I can't be distracted now, so I go on the defensive.

  "I'm angry at you, Brendan," I say, without turning around.

  "Please don't be. I'm only trying to help."

  "What you're doing is believing in me and doubting me in the same breath. I can't deal with that right now."

  "That's not my intent."

  I stop walking and turn to face him then. I can almost see the battle raging within him. He's so coiled, I'm afraid he's the one who's going to lose control before I do.

  "That's fine and dandy. But you made me trust you. Yet, you have only told me scraps of information. Because, by your standards, that's all I need to hear. That's never your decision to make. Do you understand me? Trust goes both ways."

  I'm officially losing any sort of control I have over my emotions. Everything is so much more intense, even my response to Brendan. I'm breathing heavily, begging him to see my side of things.

  "I do trust you," Brendan replies, after what seems like a million years. "I trust you more than I trust myself. If I have kept anything from you, it's because you don't need the extra baggage weighing you down. We have to focus on getting your memory restored, and nothing that I'm keeping to myself will help."

  "So you are keeping things from me," it's not a question, but Brendan nods, just barely. I huff in frustration, but I have to let this go for the moment. I need to be more focused on the spell Maxwell is about to perform on my memories. I shake my head, taking a step away from Brendan and the distance becomes a barrier.

  I don't wait to hear any other explanations, or half truths. I turn on my heels and head toward Maxwell. I'm sure he's heard everything that was said, but he doesn't comment on it when I reach him.

  He's standing in the middle of a clearing, barely big enough for the three of us. The trees surround the small opening, and as soon as I step inside, a feeling of calmness washes over me. It's as if I'm in a small cocoon made up of trees and grass, and I feel at home. My fingers reach out to brush against the large trunks, weathered by time, but not by the storm. I can see this place is special. And dry. The ground feels solid beneath my feet.

  "You sure you're ready for this?" Maxwell asks when
I stop beside him. I nod my head, because I'm afraid that I'll say no if I speak aloud. I'm scared, even if I don't want to admit it. "I need you to lay down and get comfortable."

  Not sure how that's possible on the hard ground, but I do ask he asks. The moment I'm on my back the grass and bushes reach toward me, wrapping themselves around my overheated skin. I watch as the trees above us lean down, sealing us away from the outside world. The sense of peace I felt when I walked in becomes stronger and I breathe out, allowing the magic of the earth reach inside of me.

  "Once I read the words," Maxwell continues as I settle, taking his place by my head. "You'll be swept away into a dream vale. You'll be on your own. I won't be able to guide you through like I did last time. You have to fight the memories and the consequences on your own. Do you understand?"

  I can hear his voice shake as he delivers instructions, and I think he's more terrified than I am. I try for a reassuring smile, before replying.

  "I understand."

  Maxwell takes my words at face value and opens his book. I transfer my attention to Brendan, where he stands on my right. He's not even trying to mask his apprehension, but I have no words of comfort to offer. This isn't about him anyway. It's about me.

  The world around me grows quiet, as if anticipating whatever may come next. I close my eyes, willing myself to let go and allow the magic to flow through me. I hear the soft lullaby of nature, then Maxwell's calm voice. At first, his words make no sense and I realize he's speaking Latin. Then, as if a switch turns on, I understand.

  "The path of the Wanderer,

  Strong and true.

  Leads to the oceans,

  Deep and blue.

  It follows the valleys,

  Runs through the hills,

  Watching and waiting,

  Moving, yet still.

  The steps of a hero,

  The song of a bird,

  The need of knowledge,

  The search for truth.

  The memories buried,