Savant & Feral (Digital Boxed Set): Books 1 and 2 of the Epic Luminether Fantasy Series

by Richard Denoncourt

  “I must look terrible,” she said.

  Lily said, “You look fine, sis.” She was smiling in that girlish way that made her eyes light up. She was barefoot, as usual, and for some reason her feet and knees were dirty. She saw Emma looking at the soiled patches. “Oh, that,” she said. “I was practicing those dance moves you showed me.”

  “Did you fall?”

  Lily nodded, then covered her mouth and giggled. Sevarin came forward.

  “I have to watch over you,” he told Emma. “I—I mean, you can sleep if you want. Me and Oscar—we’ll watch over you and protect you.”

  “Yes,” Oscar said, standing by the side of the bed and nodding. “We will stand guard.”

  “Hold your levies,” Ascher said, motioning to the soldier standing against the wall. “That’s what he’s for.” The soldier looked at Emma, gave a single officious nod, and returned his gaze to the opposite wall.

  “I want to do it,” Sevarin said. “I’m the only Sargonaut here. Isn’t protection what we were made for? And Oscar has the eyes of a hawk and the ears of a cat…”

  “A baby one,” Oscar added.

  “—so what’s the problem?”

  Emma was surprised by what she saw next. Ascher smiled at Sevarin and gave him a warm pat on the back.

  “If that’s what Emma wants.” He motioned at the guard. “Take post at the foot of the stairs, Olin. Much appreciated.”

  The soldier steepled his fingers, brought the tip to his forehead, and nodded. “Light guide your step,” he told Emma before marching out of the room.

  “Okay,” Emma said, trying her best to nod. She was so tired all of a sudden. The world kept tilting. “They can stay…”

  Again, she drifted into the dark.

  CHAPTER 65

  “I want to stay another year. I have to.”

  Milo’s voice came out steady and calm as he sat facing the pond. They were in the Eternal Gardens, where Emmanuel had walked in on Milo meditating, a ball of fire, like a flaming basketball, hovering above the pond’s surface. It hovered between a misty, spinning ball of water and another made of ice resembling a frosted moon. All three of the globes shone brightly, scaring the fish beneath.

  Emmanuel had to admit he was proud of what they had accomplished together. He wasn’t such a bad teacher, even after all these years away from the academy. And Milo—the boy was something else entirely. He had his mother’s heart and his father’s courage, but his brain had come straight from Kenatos, god-creator of the Savants. He had memorized nearly all of Emmanuel’s books on spellcasting in just a year.

  “I told you,” Emmanuel said, adjusting his glasses. “The time-dilation engines are slowing down. I would have to start dipping into our energy reserves.”

  “Then do it,” Milo said. “I’m sorry, Uncle Manny. I don’t mean to be rude. It’s just that I’ve done the calculations myself. We have enough fuel to power the time-dilation engines for another year without using up more than fifteen percent of our reserves. And then it would only take a few weeks on the outside to charge them back up to capacity.”

  Emmanuel peered at Milo from above his glasses. “Fifteen is more than you think. Besides, once the engines let up, we won’t have a few weeks. Iolus and his men are looking for Ascher’s ranch. And they’re getting closer.”

  The floating fireball blinked out of existence with a puff of gray smoke. The ball of water slipped back into the pond. The ball of ice fell with a splash. Milo looked away at a colorful striped bird with a sloping orange beak that had landed on a branch.

  Emmanuel took the opportunity to examine his nephew’s health.

  The boy had grown taller—two inches, to be exact, and his face had lost that quality of softness that had made him look childish and timid before. He would grow a few more inches, though he would never be taller than average height. He would, however, be broad of shoulder and chin—strong-looking for a Savant.

  “What are you thinking?” Emmanuel said, taking a seat on the grass. He wore a white, collared shirt tucked into gray slacks, with a black belt and black leather shoes. He liked to dress this way even when he didn’t have to. It reminded him of being an academy professor again, which was a nice thought. He was so tired of war.

  The grass would stain the seat of his pants, but it didn’t matter. He felt tired all of a sudden. As much as he enjoyed training Milo and spending time with him, he felt that another year of intense training sessions would trim his lifespan significantly.

  And what about the time-dilation engines?

  Another year down in the vault would mean Milo would not get back to the ranch until late evening of the day after he’d last been seen. Sure, it was only an extra day back on the surface, but Emmanuel had sensed dark magic overhead on the afternoon when he had seen Milo and the other orphans ice-skating on the pond. Kovax’s low mages had flown over the ranch, and it was difficult to tell if they had been able to see through the cloaking spell.

  If that was the case, he had less than a day (on the surface, of course; away from the time-dilation engines) to get back to the ranch and get everyone out of there.

  “I’m thinking,” Milo said, “that another year would be an even trade-off. It’s another twenty or so hours back on the surface, but it’s a whole year of training for me. I know it’s a big investment for you, too, Uncle Manny, but if what you say is true—if my goal is to prepare myself so I can face Kovax and Iolus and destroy their towers—then I need all the training I can get. Besides, Ascher has men guarding the ranch. They could hold out for half a day, at least, if someone were to attack.”

  “That depends on what their enemies are attacking with,” Emmanuel said.

  “Of course, but if I could learn the fireball spell in a week, think of all the other spells I could learn in another year.”

  Emmanuel sighed. “I’m no battlemage, Milo. There are limits to what I can teach you.”

  “Yes, but you’ve also been teaching me how to teach myself. With the resources in the library, I’m sure I could do a lot on my own. Besides, I won’t have this opportunity again. Once we leave Taradyn, we leave the vault and the engines. Any time I spend learning magic will be time Kovax and his men will have to catch up to me before I’m ready.”

  Milo was looking at him with those wide, introspective brown eyes he’d inherited from his mother. Emmanuel felt powerless before the boy’s request.

  “By the gods,” he said. “You’re absolutely right.”

  Another thought entered Emmanuel’s mind: his cloaking spell would make it almost impossible for vehicles flying overhead to see the ranch without magic. Any attack would have to come from the ground, which meant traveling through the forest on terrain that Ascher and his men knew by heart.

  Plus, Ascher had some surprises of his own. He wasn’t exactly Humankin like he claimed to be…

  “You’ve convinced me,” Emmanuel said. “But you realize how difficult I’m going to make it for you. We can’t waste a moment on anything other than spellcraft.”

  Milo stood up. Emmanuel followed suit, though not as gracefully.

  “I’m ready,” Milo said.

  “I’ve heard this before.”

  “I was ready the last time, and I’m ready now.”

  Emmanuel smiled. “You’d better be.” He motioned to the area behind him with his thumb. “I’ll freshen up the dilation spell. Get some food in your stomach. We’ll meet back here in an hour.”

  CHAPTER 66

  Emma was having the strangest dream.

  In the dream, she saw her brother in a jungle with a man wearing a white shirt tucked into gray slacks. He wore coin-shaped sunglasses and stood with his arms crossed, one hand stroking his chin. But there was something off about the jungle; when she looked up, she saw not a natural sky but a bluish dome that pulsed with beautiful blue light, and over the dome there was a film of moving colors that gave off the impression of clouds passing overhead.

  It was a real jungle with a fa
ke sky. Or was it all fake? She had no way of knowing for sure, because everything in the dream was so blurry.

  No—not blurry. It was moving.

  Milo and the strange man in the gray pants were zipping about at ultra-fast speeds. One moment, they were sitting across from each other on the grass—the next, Milo was holding a ball of fire in his hands and the man was circling him, faster than humanly possible, zip zip zip, like a video on fast-forward. The jungle darkened as artificial twilight took over. Milo and the strange man remained, casting spells and talking and referring to books that kept flashing in and out of their hands.

  Darkness fell in the jungle, and Milo and the strange man disappeared. Emma opened her eyes.

  It was getting dark outside. The bedroom had been lit with small lamps, and she could see her reflection in the window. She was still hanging over the bed, this time surrounded by only three people. Sevarin sat by the window, gazing out at the darkened landscape beyond. Oscar had fallen asleep curled up in an armchair next to the door. Ascher stood against the wall with a distant look in his eyes and one hand stroking his beard. Somehow he sensed that Emma was awake.

  “There you are,” he said, coming to her side. “Do you feel any pain?”

  Sevarin was off the chair in less than a second. He stood at the foot of the bed and waited for her response.

  “No pain,” Emma said.

  “You were having a dream. Do you remember it?”

  It took Emma a few moments to decide what to say. After all, the dream had made no sense. Her visions couldn’t tell the future; that much she knew for a fact. Which meant that if the dream had indeed been a vision, Milo and the strange man had been in the jungle recently or were there now.

  But that was impossible; Milo was here, on the ranch somewhere. He wasn’t in some fake jungle casting spells that would have taken him months, or maybe even years, to learn. She had seen him only yesterday morning.

  “It was just a dream,” she said. “I don’t really remember it.”

  Ascher tilted his head a little and gave her a worried look. “Are you sure?”

  Emma tried to change the subject. “How long have I been like this?”

  “You slept all through the evening. It’s past midnight.”

  Sevarin reached up and put a hand on hers. “Your wounds are almost healed. You know, you heal like a Sargonaut. It’s pretty amazing.”

  “He’s right,” Ascher said. “In a few hours, you’ll be good as new.”

  “And my wings? Will I be able to fly?”

  Ascher chuckled. “Not for a while. Right now, you’re like a baby bird. But at your rate of development, who knows? You could be in the sky a year from now.”

  Emma smiled at Sevarin. He smiled back, and his eyes crinkled at the edges. He looked funny when he did that, almost like a little boy smiling before a large, intimidating crowd. It gave her the sense that he was a bit afraid of her. It also made her want to give him a big hug.

  A light thumping sound rose to her left. Oscar was still asleep, but the tip of his tail was banging against the carpet. Thump thump thump thump, like a dog’s. He must have been dreaming.

  “Poor kid,” Sevarin said. “Says he feels like an alien here. So far, he hasn’t shown any signs of shapeshifting ability.”

  “Give him time,” Ascher said. “He’s a late bloomer.”

  Ascher looked at Emma. “We’re going to take off those straps and let you go. This won’t hurt much, but it’ll be uncomfortable. Are you ready?”

  Emma gave a small nod.

  “Sevarin,” Ascher said. “Give me a hand.”

  Ascher and Sevarin went to work unfastening the straps. Ascher explained that at this stage in her development as an Acolyte, her wings were very fragile and could easily grow crooked if she wasn’t careful. Since her skin and muscle had healed so quickly, however, she wouldn’t have to worry too much. The feathers were still soft—almost transparent in their thinness—but that was okay. In a few days she would begin to shed them away, and new, stronger feathers would grow in their place. This would happen several times over the course of her life.

  And because she was a demigoddess, someday she would learn how to hide her wings using magic, as her mother had done all those years living in the human realm.

  There was a full-length mirror in the corner of the room. With Sevarin holding her by the elbow, she shuffled over to it. Her bare feet padded against the carpet. She was anxious to see this strange new thing growing on her body, but she was also afraid of it being ugly and wrong.

  Her eyes filled with tears when she saw the golden wings rising behind her shoulders. With minimal pain, she was able to stretch them out. They were small, only a fraction of the size her mother’s had been.

  “My wings,” she said, and this time, instead of fainting, she took a deep breath and let out a high-pitched squeal followed by a giggle.

  Oscar woke up with a start and scanned his surroundings. When he saw Emma laughing, he relaxed, sank back into the armchair and dozed off again.

  Sevarin and Ascher glanced at each other in amusement as Emma danced around the room, flapping her wings and squealing.

  “I can’t wait to show Milo! He’s going to be so proud!”

  CHAPTER 67

  T he next day, after a whole evening spent packing up the ranch and looking for Milo, Oscar suddenly had to use the bathroom. He jogged down the plant-lined corridor, hand pressed to the side of his belly.

  “Bathroom, bathroom, bathroom,” he said in English. He’d been practicing vocabulary every day using techniques he’d learned at the English school in Cartagena that his father had made him attend (“To open doors in life,” he had explained.)

  He found the door and entered the enormous misty chamber. When he saw the calm blue waters of the pool, he felt more at ease. It was dark beyond the windows and skylights. The only light in the room came from sconces in the walls, and only half of them were lit. The water gave the air a fresh smell, enticing him to dive right in.

  He heard humming. Someone was in the pool.

  Oscar walked past a line of pillars and saw his father sitting on the rounded steps leading in, up to his bare chest in water. Instead of swim trunks, he wore his work pants, which were usually stained with oil or grass. Now, because of the water’s ability to clean anything, the pants were a pristine white. They formed a sharp contrast against the brown of his skin.

  “Papá,” Oscar said.

  His father stopped humming, opened his eyes, and sat up.

  “Oscar, hi,” he said in Spanish. “I was just resting. Have you been watching over the angel?”

  “Wait. I’ll be right back,” He ran into the bathroom, relieved himself, and came back. His father was smiling at him. “She’s not an angel,” Oscar said, pulling his sandals off and sitting at the edge of the pool so he could dip his feet. “She’s an Acolyte.”

  Andres smiled. “She’s an angel. You’ll see.”

  “If she’s an angel”—Oscar grabbed his tail and held it up—“am I a devil?”

  His father frowned and swam over. “I should slap you for saying that.”

  “You’ve never slapped me,” Oscar said.

  “I’ve never had to. But keep calling yourself a devil and you’ll see.”

  He splashed water at his son. Oscar laughed and shielded himself.

  “This is like a vacation,” his father said, looking up at the vaulted ceiling through which he could see moonlit clouds beyond the skylights. “Or this is Heaven. I believe we’re in Heaven. Don’t you?”

  Oscar looked up at the skylights. All he saw was Calista’s face before his mind’s eye. The girl terrified him, with her fiery eyes and her ability to change into a cat or a bird whenever she wanted—and her beauty, which was as exotic to him as Astros. He’d never seen a girl with such white skin and fiery orange eyes.

  Oscar wished he could change into an animal; a big yellow lion, or a puma that could run faster than any other creature, just to
see the admiring look on Calista’s face.

  The fabric of reality rippled, and it hit him like a punch in the stomach. A feeling of wrongness in the core of his being.

  He got up.

  “What’s wrong?” his father said, climbing out of the pool after him.

  Oscar pointed. “There.”

  He stared at the wall, which probably seemed strange to his father; like he had the ability to see right through it. His tail made lashing motions behind him.

  “What is it?” Andres said.

  The windows were high up along the wall, too high for any normal person to reach. But Oscar had spent the past few months climbing trees and hillsides, looking for a challenge. He had finally found it.

  He ran around the pool, jumped, and kicked his foot against one of the pillars. This sent him flying up toward the ceiling. He stretched his arms and grabbed the windowsill. Then he yanked himself up so fast that he hung suspended in midair for a moment before his hands and feet shot outward to latch his body in place.

  “Oscar?” His father’s voice echoed in the cavernous room. “Where are you?”

  “Up here!”

  His father ran over and looked up. “You didn’t make a sound! I thought you had vanished using magic.”

  “I’m no Savant,” Oscar said, scanning the darkened landscape beyond the glass. He knew the ocean lay to his left, and to the west—his right—the mountains rose like glaciers in the moonlight. But the vibrations he had felt were not coming from the east or west.

  No, the presence he had sensed was on the ground, approaching the ranch from the south. It pounded the earth, but not the way human feet do. An ominous thought.

  “Oscar, come down from there.”

  “Papa, wait. Something’s coming.”

  His father was struck speechless. After a breathless moment, he regained his voice.

  “We have to tell Ascher.”

  Oscar peered out into the distance but saw nothing. They wouldn’t use lights. Not this close to the ranch. It was supposed to be a surprise.