“I will do whatever you ask, father,” Colby replied, with a sharp nod.
“Mother,” Fazendiin spoke, noting her return. She lifted her hand, in which, lay a pure white dagger. Fazendiin touched the stained glass with his own hand and when he turned around to face his son again, he held a real dagger in his palm. It was about ten inches in length and looked to have been hand carved, but Colby could not identify from what substance it had been made from. Regardless, it was slick and solid.
“What does this do?” asked Colby.
“This is my most prized weapon,” his father revealed, “Forged in secret, known until now only by me and my dear mother.”
Colby gulped, his eyes wide with amazement. He wondered what would be required of him. Would he need to stab and kill someone with this dagger? Killing from a distance using magic was one thing... but close enough to stab someone? He gulped again, his heart racing anxiously at the thought.
“This dagger, my son, will strip a mature Projector’s power, storing it securely inside the dagger.”
Colby’s eyes momentarily flashed doubt. He would need to stab someone with this dagger. He hoped his father had missed his short lapse in confidence as the realization of this task hit him. This would be the hardest task he had ever set out to do.
“It will not strip the young one,” his father advised. “Not until maturity is reached. So if your path crosses this young one, leave them, they are not of consequence, for now.”
An odd sense of relief came over Colby. Killing a stranger was one thing, but killing a young child that might or might not yet realize what they were, he just didn't know if he could do it.
“Are you prepared for this task?” his father questioned, as if reading the doubt flitting through his son's thoughts.
He looked his father in the eye and replied, “Yes.” He extended his hand, holding open his palm. Fazendiin placed the dagger into his son’s hand.
Colby traced the edges of the white dagger cautiously with his fingers, rubbing over the pitted ridges, which allowed him a firm grip of the dagger. He took a quick swipe through the air.
Fazendiin grunted in impassioned gratification at the sight of his son gripping the dagger, swinging it heftily as if stabbing the Projector. He allowed his son a moment more, and then waved his hands over the dagger. Sheets of smoky blackness streamed out of his hand encasing the dagger in a hard sheath.
Colby secured it to his belt. He would tell no one of this weapon. Not even KarNavan, until it was time to use it.
Fazendiin looked down at his son, eyes gleaming with pride. “Once you have stripped this Projector of his power you are to return to me at once. I alone know how to use the power wielded inside the dagger.”
“Yes, Father,” Colby replied.
“One more thing,” warned Fazendiin. “A fully mature Projector is cunning, wise, and more powerful than anything you have ever been up against. Underestimating his potential, magically speaking, would be unwise. I suggest aiming for his human nature.”
Colby cocked his head, thinking about what his father meant. “Play to his human nature,” he repeated, his eyes lighting up. “Find out what he would risk himself for...”
“You are indeed my son,” Fazendiin replied, as if they had already succeeded in their dangerous venture.
“I will not return until I have the Projector’s power inside this dagger,” said Colby loyally. He turned and left the room, making his way back out to meet KarNavan.
##
Colin Jacoby heard muffled voices. The closer he listened, the more familiar they sounded. He heard Catrina Flummer laughing to the not-so-familiar, grizzled voice of a man he had met only one time, briefly. The voices brought him out of his slumber and when his eyes flickered open he found himself staring up at a wooden ceiling, made up of aged, thick beams, spattered with hints of pitch and tar.
He realized he was lying in a bed. When he rolled back the covers, he was fully dressed. He sat up on the edge and found that his shoes were sitting on the floor next to the bed. He noticed that the entire room, except for a small round window, was made of the same aged wood. Outside of the window, it looked as though fog was rolling by. He walked over to the window to take a closer look, taking a moment to find his legs, which wobbled a bit underneath his waking body.
“Are we moving?” he mumbled to himself. They were indeed moving, it seemed, on a boat, floating down some body of water. There was a shore not too far away, and he could see trees with long tendril like limbs reaching high over the boat. Bluish-gray mosses dangled from the limbs like overgrown decoration.
“Where on Earth am I?” he asked, at the same time realizing it was entirely possible that he might not be on Earth at all, but rather in some alternative world, far from the place he knew as home.
All at once, memories began to flood his mind.
He had fled here, wherever here was, with Catrina Flummer, because his sister had betrayed them to Juliska Blackwell. The woman he believed had locked Catrina into a glass coffin, leaving her to sleep away her life deep in the caves of Eidolon, the Goblin king, who was now dead at the hands of Colin Jacoby.
For a moment, anger filled his heart. Anger for what Meghan had done to him. Anger that he had trusted her, even after Catrina's grandfather's ghost, Balloch Flummer, had warned him not to trust anyone. This was Meghan though, his sister, and until not too long ago, protector from things like bullies.
“Bullies,” he mumbled as if the memory of those times was somehow funny. No, not funny he corrected himself. “They’re just much larger, more powerful bullies now.”
He shook his head trying to force these feelings aside as new ones erupted. Where was he? Was Catrina okay? He'd thought he had heard her laughing, but had that been real?
Feeling awake and ready to face whatever was outside of this room, he spun around, locating the door. He stepped carefully, stopping to peer through cracks in the door, but all he could see were streams of light pouring down a staircase from the deck above.
The door opened with ease. He took this as a good sign, for if he were being held prisoner it surely would have been locked. He took each step cautiously, worried he might be heard approaching, but every creak his footsteps made was drowned out by heavier groans of the boat’s movements through the water.
Near the top, he stopped to let his eyes adjust to the light. It was not overly bright, being that the boat was surrounded by swirling mists, but it was still much brighter than the room he had been sleeping in. As he reached the top and stepped onto the deck, a welcoming voice called out. “Colin! You’re awake!”
“Catrina,” he replied, seeing her sitting across the table from an elderly looking man.
Catrina smiled widely and motioned for him to join them. He did so, finding the chairs on the deck heavy and cumbersome to move. As he sat next to her he asked, “You okay?” She nodded yes and squeezed his hand in reply. He breathed a little more easily. Colin then turned to the man and said, “Jasper Thorndike,” as if confirming that this was the man sitting across from him. The man that had sold him the Magicante, back in Cobbscott, Maine, during the Blue Moon Festival before Colin had even known anything about magic.
Jasper replied in a gravelly voice. “In the flesh, Mr. Jacoby.”
Before Colin could ask more, Catrina blurted out, “Isn’t this boat magnificent?”
Colin shrugged, still a bit hazy. It was larger than he expected, and from what he could see, completely built of wood. Mostly, as he gazed around, it looked like they were floating downriver in a garden, as somehow, a good portion of the boat deck could not be seen underneath the layers of vegetables, flowers and trees spreading across it. Colin noted peaches, apples and pears all ripe and ready to eat. He saw tomatoes of deep red, yellow and green, dangling from vines near the edge of the boat; sunflowers mixed in with corn stalks, green beans with peppers; spots here and there plotted with bulky heads of lettuce. It was a regular salad bar just waiting for picking and e
ating.
Colin did not see them, but he also heard the clucking of chickens. Even still feeling hazy, he had to agree. The boat was a magnificent, self-sufficient living space. Looking over all the food growing nearby, he realized he was famished. Catrina and Jasper seemed to know he would be, as Catrina was already grabbing a plate and loading it with food.
Jasper said, “We’ll have ourselves a talk soon enough, but first, eat up, Mr. Jacoby.”
Colin did not argue and gladly accepted the plate Catrina scooped up for him, which included biscuits topped with eggs, and smothered in savory smelling gravy.
“Thanks,” he said, wolfing down his first bite.
While he ate, everyone sat in silence. All Colin could hear, besides his own chewing and the groans of the wooden boat were birds, chirping from the nearby shore, or the occasional splash of something in the water. He peered over the edge... was that an alligator? With his mouth still full, he did not ask.
When he finished eating, Jasper cleared away the dishes. As he did so, Colin leaned in and asked Catrina, “How long have we been here? How long have I been asleep? And where exactly are we?”
“We’ve been here one week today,” she explained. “And you’ve been asleep the entire time.”
“What? A week! Why didn’t you wake me?”
“We couldn't. Jasper said it had something to do with when you went through the portal to get here. It basically knocked you out… for a week.”
“Oh,” was all Colin could say in return.
“And as for where you are,” added Jasper, now rejoining them at the table, “I believe you call this the Bayou.”
“Like in Louisiana?” asked Colin.
Jasper nodded yes.
“Huh,” said Colin, leaning back in his chair. It seemed surreal that after two years of visiting other worlds he would suddenly be back in his own. He felt excitingly close and yet painfully far away.
Catrina cleared her throat and Colin turned his attention to her.
“Colin, I think it’s time for you to be officially introduced.” She spoke with pronounced clarity. “This is Jasper Thorndike, and he is the Last. Living. Projector.”
Colin felt like he had run into a brick wall. He had believed all Projectors were dead. He could not believe one was still alive, and that it was Jasper Thorndike, the very man that had sold him his copy of Magicante.
Catrina continued, now timidly, “Well, I guess he’s not the last living Projector, anymore.”
There it is, Colin’s thoughts shouted. Confirmation. Catrina really is the Projector. This had to be why Jasper had helped them escape. Another thought hit him. Jasper doesn’t seem bad or evil. Can he help Catrina? Can he save her? Can he keep her from turning... he stopped not wanting to finish his thought.
Colin caught Catrina looking to Jasper, as if she had more to say but could not find her voice. Colin noticed that he returned her gaze with the slightest of nods.
“You should know, Mr. Jacoby,” Jasper said next, “that Projectors were not always hunted and feared. Quite the contrary, in the old days we were once revered and highly sought after magicians.” He paused before adding, “You know the old adage, one bad egg…”
Catrina explained further, though still timidly. “A few Projectors went bad and the rest had to pay the price. But there is hope, because Jasper has spent his entire life controlling his powers, and he's been around for a long time.” Her voice held more confidence as she finished.
Colin’s face lightened, feeling hope for the first time in what seemed like forever. “What can I do?” he asked her. “There must be some way I can help?”
Catrina returned his question with a puzzled look.
“Unless I’m not allowed to help,” Colin added less confidently.
“Mr. Jacoby,” said Jasper, taking a deep breath. “You seem to have the wrong impression. Catrina here, she is special indeed. A rare gift that needs protection, no doubt. But she is not a Projector.”
“What? What do you mean?” asked Colin, his voice turning furious. “Juliska Blackwell locked her inside a glass coffin, deep in a cave surrounded by Goblins! So she would never be found! Why would she do that?”
Catrina took hold of his hand again, to calm him. Although confused, he tried to focus on the comforting fact that she was not a Projector. Regardless of why Juliska had hidden her away, Catrina was safe now, with him, and more importantly not a Projector. Not evil! This helped him regain his composure.
“Colin, Juliska locked me away because I am a song spinner,” she continued to explain. Colin just shrugged, having no idea what a song spinner was.
“When I hear music, like the songs played by the Svoda around their campfires, I hear the true stories behind those songs; stories long forgotten by nearly everyone, and stories that some do not want remembered.”
“You mean like Juliska Blackwell,” Colin confirmed. After a second, he blurted out, “So the message you had for Ivan, that was a song,” he remembered. “His mother left him a song. Did she know you were a song spinner? You were just a baby weren’t you?”
“Yes, I was. I can only guess that somehow she knew what I was, and that someday, I would need to deliver that message to her son. I honestly wish I could have told Ivan more. That boy is clearly tortured over the loss of his mother.”
“Rightfully so, I’m sure,” spoke Jasper. “I don’t know as us boys ever get over the loss of our mothers.”
Catrina replied with a sad smile while Colin let out an exasperated breath.
“I never knew my mother, but all this magical… stuff… it just gets stranger and stranger.” The look of awe washed across his face, followed again by confusion as he caught Jasper and Catrina eyeing each other as if having a silent conversation. He did not like the feeling. I suppose this is what Sebastien felt like all those times he caught- he stopped himself, not wishing to think about his sister.
Jasper cleared his throat, regaining Colin's attention.
“Mr. Jacoby,” he breathed out, heavily, “I must tell you that while Catrina is indeed a rare find, you, my young sir, are even more so.”
The way he spoke took Colin off guard.
Jasper cast his gaze meaningfully from Colin, to Catrina, and then back to Colin.
Colin puckered his mouth and squished his eyes, trying to understand what point Jasper was trying to make. Things started to formulate in his mind.
Catrina is not the Projector. I am rarer than she is…
He opened his mouth to speak but then stopped, his face going limp and blank as understanding spread through him like a vine stringing its way through his body.
He jumped up out of his chair, backing away, nearly losing his footing in the process.
He had been so focused on Catrina he had missed the truth completely.
“It’s me,” he stammered. “It’s been me all this time. I’m the Projector everyone’s trying to hunt down, and kill.” His voice sounded certain, but empty.
Catrina got up and steadied him. “But you saved me,” she reminded. “I would still be sleeping away my life in Eidolon’s cave if you had not heard my cries for help. Cries only someone with your powers could have heard.”
He stepped back from her, suddenly afraid to touch her.
“Am I dangerous? Will I hurt people?” He shot a glance at Jasper and then back to Catrina. “When I thought it was you, I didn’t care. I just wanted to help you, even if that meant I might get hurt, but I don’t want you to get hurt because of me.”
Catrina sighed. “Shouldn't that be my choice, Colin, like it was for you?”
He just stared, no idea what to say.
“There are things to consider,” said Jasper.
Colin jerked his head in Jasper’s direction, his eyes wide and his heart pounding.
“First, this is why I brought you here, to this boat,” Jasper explained. “This vessel is cloaked from the outside world, untraceable. Second, Colin, you are not yet in your full power, but you must
learn control, because the closer you get to maturity the more uncontrollable your power will become. You have until your sixteenth birthday to learn how to control your powers. That gives you just shy of a year and a half.”
“And if I fail?” Colin asked in desperation.
“There is no reason you cannot learn control; however, if for any reason you cannot, or do not, you’ll force my hand, Colin Jacoby.” Jasper's stare turned deadly. “You must learn control, because if you do not, you will not be let loose upon any world.”
Colin sucked in a breath as if suddenly unable to get enough air.
The boat was his prison after all.
A prison he might never leave alive.
Part Three
“Jae missed school today,” Meghan said, as she jotted down the words into her journal. She sat in the school library, which was closing soon. It was currently empty of students. “If Colin could see me now,” she mumbled sarcastically. She had spent the previous days, after school, in the library researching Svoda history, mainly regarding Juliska Backwell, but had nothing useful in regards to whether the Gypsy Queen had ever had any children.
She did learn that Juliska Blackwell was not born on the Svoda island. Like her and Colin, Juliska came to the Svoda when she was a young girl of twelve, and had been placed into a foster family with the name of Cobb. Suddenly, she was the middle child of five, two younger siblings than herself and two older. Juliska had been found living a desolate life with no memory of her family or where she had come from. At the age of sixteen, she had been deemed a Firemancer and was taken into apprenticeship by another seer, named PanSofia, now deceased.
“Cobb?” questioned Meghan thoughtfully. “Where do I remember that name from?” It took her a moment to find the memory. “Amelia Cobb, leader of the banished Svoda.” Meghan wondered if this Amelia had once been in Juliska’s foster family. She made a note about it in her journal, planning to research more about it.
Divided (Book Five) (Fated Saga Fantasy Series) Page 3
