“No, he doesn’t know about you,” Gregory soothed. “I just told him Ev and I had a spat and I thought it best to get out of the way for a bit. That he understood, as would most who know or know of Ev. I won’t say anything to anyone unless I feel it’s in your best interest that they know. I need to go unpack but may we talk about your studies for a moment before I do?”
After I’d told him about my Sunday session with Cassandra and what I’d read that morning, he made a face.
“I don’t want to belittle Cassandra but she took the easiest route for her. Plants are her love and you will have to learn about them, too. But you obviously need to work on the rocks part of it first. Study books are magically-geared toward teaching what isn’t immediately available in living, breathing form. That’s why the geology came up first in yours. I would wager it’s the same in her book as her mother is a big plant person, too.”
I asked a question I was dying to know the answer to. “Do wizards have books, too?”
“Now they do, yes,” he replied. “When I came into my power, very few people knew how to read or write. Everything was passed down by word of mouth and committed to memory. I still prefer that method but I recognize that not everyone learns that way. So, we will combine reading with practical exercises. I will speak with Cassandra about taking over for her. You need to progress the way your book is written.”
“She’ll probably be relieved,” I told him. “I know teaching me wasn’t exactly on her agenda but her folks are too far away.”
Gregory headed toward the door. “I will see you tomorrow morning at nine. Re-read the chapter you read this morning before I get here.”
“Wait,” I called after him. “It took me three hours to get through it this morning. I have to start studying at six?”
All he did was grin as he shut the door behind him. I grumbled then realized it was only one o’clock. There was plenty of time to write…a book about an older, single wizard taking up with a young, fledgling witch.
Chapter 14
And so it went for the rest of the week. I was up with the dawn each morning, taking only a half hour for social networking before reading that same damned chapter over and over. Gregory was promptly at my door at nine. At least he brought a pound of his special coffee so there was something really tasty to sip on as he drilled me about the different kinds of rock and soil. How I hated science!
I thought Saturday morning was going to be more of the same but when he knocked on my door at nine, he had car keys in his hand. “Come. Practical lesson time.” He turned and walked back up the stairs to the sidewalk.
I ran to the kitchen, grabbed a travel mug and filled it to the top. I gathered my coat, cell phone and purse and was just about to close the door behind me when Fudge darted past me and up the stairs. I finished closing and locking the door and followed, to see Gregory open the passenger door of that Hummer and allow Fudge to hop in the front seat.
“The Hummer’s yours?” I asked.
“Yes. I wanted an off-road vehicle for myself. Ev thought being able to get around even in the worst snow was a good idea so he purchased it but it’s in my name. If things don’t work out the way I think they will, I will definitely be downgrading to something smaller.”
I clambered in. With a vehicle that large, Fudge had plenty of room to sprawl between us on the seat – right in front of the heater. He looked smug.
“Where are we going?”
“Somewhere you can work on your lessons without drawing attention. Drink your coffee. It will take us a couple of hours.”
He turned the radio on and we rode in companionable silence, listening to the strains of classical music, punctuated by Fudge’s little feline snores. I watched the scenery of farmland and stands of trees along Interstate 35. The same route I’d taken to spend a romantic weekend with Tony just a few months prior. The one that had started out romantic and ended with us having to call the posse in Minneapolis to bail us out of a magical jam. I realized that except for that one moment of weakness a week earlier when I knew I’d never hear from him again, I hadn’t thought of him. Not really in love with him? Too many other things occupying my mind? But the hole that was there was at least scabbed over, if not healed. I didn’t even have to choke back a tear. I felt a little guilty.
“Do not feel guilty,” Fudge sleepily said into my mind. “I do not believe you were truly attached to him. He was convenient. But he was a dog. It was never going to be a permanent arrangement.”
“I thought you stayed out of my mind unless something magical was going on.”
“I do. Your thoughts were strong enough to wake me and I felt it necessary to answer.”
I harrumphed at him. He just started snoring again.
My curiosity was piqued when we got off at the exit that would take us to Mille Lacs Lake.
“A lake? There are several in Minneapolis. And I’m supposedly Earth, not Water.”
“Remember your teaching. There is Earth wherever you are. There is a park on the edge of the lake that will be virtually deserted this time of year. I know it well and there are nice, secluded spots where we won’t be observed, even by wanderers.”
He parked in the back corner of a lot that held only two other cars – one of them was a Park Ranger’s vehicle. “It’s only a five minute walk,” he said as he refilled our travel mugs from a thermos. “I suggest you take advantage of the facilities here. You don’t look like much of a rustic camper.”
He was right. I wasn’t and after nearly two hours, I needed to get rid of some coffee. I availed myself of the port-a-potty and followed him onto and then off of a ready-made hiking trail, heading deeper into woods that would be lush in a few months. At this time of year, it was mostly bare-branched hardwoods dotted with a pine here and there. The deeper we got, the less sun peeked through and we could still see piles of snow snuggled at the base of some trees. The air was crisp and cleaner-smelling than that of the city but even so, I pulled the collar of my coat closer.
Fudge seemed to be enjoying himself. He explored to both sides of us, sniffing this and that, following a scent then abandoning it only to pick up on another. Gregory damned near stepped on him as he came to a halt in a clearing and said, “Here is where we will work”. Fudge immediately stopped his sniffing around and, scuffing a hole in the leaves, rested his butt on the soil, looking attentive.
I put my mug down on a rock level enough to hold it, stuck my already-gloved hands in my coat pockets and tried to pull my coat closer to me. It was chilly. Through the trees, I’d noticed that ice still crusted the lake, although it was more black than white and slush was visible on the surface. Ice-out was coming; the fishermen and boaters would be happy. “What am I supposed to do?” I asked.
“First, identify the type of Earth you’re on. Then, break it down for me. How much is hard – or rocks and how much is soft – soil or sand.”
Logic told me I was standing on sedimentary rock. After all, the entire area had been under a glacier a couple of times – or so I’d been told. But I knew that wasn’t what Gregory was asking. So, I closed my eyes and felt around with what, after my experience at the abandoned mine, I had started calling my “witchy senses”, Fudge’s pressure in my head helping me out.
“Sedimentary above metamorphic. Most of the metamorphic is too deep for me to do anything with…I can barely feel it. But there are big chunks of granite both above ground and not too far buried in the soil. Probably eighty percent of what surrounds me is kinda loose soil with the other twenty being either that granite or rock-hard clay.” I opened one eye to peer at him. “Right?”
“I have no idea. You’re the Earth element here,” he grinned as he took a swig of coffee.
I opened the other eye. “Huh? You don’t know if I’m right?”
“No. My knowledge of rocks extends to those in a jewelry setting.”
“Then how did you know about all this when you were drilling me this week?”
“Mostly, I j
ust read up on the subject that first night after I unpacked. The Internet is a wonderful resource in some regards. I’ve also picked up a little over the years from hanging around with old wizards who enjoy debating archaeological finds.
“But this isn’t a science class. It’s all about knowing what surrounds you and what you can do with it. For example, the air here is lighter than it is just a hundred yards away over the lake. Slightly less moisture. Therefore, it requires a different way of working with it than if I were sitting in a boat on the water. You need to be able to tell the difference with your element.”
“Remember what I said about the difference between moving sand and granite.” Fudge just had to add his two cents’ in.
I glared at him and turned back to Gregory. “I don’t get why I need to know about moving dirt or rocks. I’m a city girl and I don’t do gardening.”
“I understand that you don’t really want to use your gift, Amy,” he sighed. “But just for example: we live in Tornado Alley. What if your brick apartment building took a direct hit from one? Knowing you can, would you use magic to carefully move the debris away from you or would you use your hands to try to dig yourself out from under a ton of unstable rubble? How about if you were out of the building and came home to find your neighbors and Fudge trapped? That scenario isn’t much different from what you did for Ev and me.”
My heart jumped at that thought. A twister had taken out a good portion of an area just a few blocks away only two years prior. Several homes were just gone and more were grotesque versions of their former selves. People were still rebuilding. The thought of losing my home and all my things in the blink of an eye, regardless of insurance, was frightening.
“More importantly,” he continued, “you can draw strength from Earth. The harder the earth, the more energy encapsulated in it. Therefore, rock has more encased energy than loamy garden soil, which has more than sand. Now, instead of simply identifying the kind of earth, feel for the energy.”
I blew out a breath. I could see his point but, geez. School. For a subject I didn’t want to learn. I did as I was told, this time with my eyes open.
“Look for clumps of that substance you call glitter,” I heard.
“I know. Shut up,” I murmured back.
Although I wouldn’t admit it, that analogy helped. The piece of granite my mug was sitting on was chock-full of glitter while the rest of the ground was sparkly but not mirror-shiny. The sparkle thinned as my eye looked closer to the lake, which had a somewhat sandy shoreline.
“See it?” Gregory asked.
“Yes.”
“Good. Now you have to look for something else. Any time you’re dealing with earth, there are going to be plant roots. You don’t want to starve the plants so you have to be careful how much energy you pull from where. Yes, it replenishes but if you take enough, it will be a long time coming back. Look again. The tree roots should be very visible to you.”
Crap. I was already known as a plant-killer. A friend had given me a houseplant “guaranteed to grow for even the blackest thumb” when I was in college. Is there a color darker than black? I killed it. I didn’t even trust myself with one of those “air plants” you see in stores.
I felt around again with those witchy senses. The deeper underground I went, the more different the tingles became. I could tell the difference between the small pieces of granite (or whatever it was – hard rock) and the looser soil that compacted farther down but there was a third kind of tingle. It felt…alive. I know that’s not a good explanation because energy is energy but that’s what my brain came up with.
That “alive” tingle was tangled all over the place, like a snake’s nest. Although I was standing in a clearing probably fifty feet across, those snakes, big and small, were all entwined under my feet, covering the open space. Logical brain translated that to tree roots.
“Open your eyes,” Gregory commanded. “You need to be able to use that sense while the others are still working.”
I hadn’t even realized I’d closed my eyes and said as much. “That’s the reason for practical exercises,” he said. While looking directly at me, he held out his hand. In a split-second, I saw a small, sparkly-red tornado whirling above his palm which dissipated a second later.
“Sit and take a break,” he told me. “I know this is a lot to cram into a short period of time. You must be feeling overwhelmed.”
I sat on the rock next to my mug and gratefully took a swig of the still-warm elixir. “Not overwhelmed, per se. More pissed. Not pissed. Discombobulated. My life has been turned really upside down. I like routine. I had a comfortable one. Not anymore.”
“Ah, but life is to be explored, Amy. Routine is boring. You get in a rut and you become a boring person.”
I raised an eyebrow. He coughed. “Well, you were rather boring. When I saw you, all you talked about was work. Even when you were dating someone, you talked about work.”
“If you’ll recall, that’s pretty much all we had in common until this upheaval. I don’t talk about my private life with co-workers.”
“You did with Sally,” he countered.
“She’s a girl. It’s different. And I didn’t tell her all that much, anyways. I don’t even tell Cassandra everything.”
It was his turn to raise an eyebrow. “I thought best friends shared everything.”
“Not this one. Cassandra knows more than anyone else but deepest, darkest secrets are still very deep and very dark.”
He hummed a little tune to himself as I drained my coffee. Then he looked sternly down at me and said, “Some secrets are worth keeping, even to yourself. But stretching your horizons a bit is no bad thing. You were uncomfortable the first few times you went to a party with Ev, weren’t you? Yet you figured out how to deal with it and in the meantime, if I recall our conversation correctly, were able to parlay the people you met at those parties into a nice side job. So, you’re just stretching your horizons again. This time in a different direction.”
My butt was getting cold. I stood. “At least I won’t have to ask Cassandra how a witch would respond in a certain situation anymore, that much is true.”
Gregory grinned. “See? Advantages. One more exercise then we will head back to the city. I will even treat you to lunch on the way home.”
The last was the most tiring. Isn’t it always? He had me draw energy from the soil, not the nice piece of granite I’d sat on and the couple more like it in the clearing. I had to avoid the tree roots, form it into a ball in my hand then allow it to dissipate back to where I’d originally got it from. Avoiding tree roots was almost impossible, given where I was standing. I had to find those little pieces of hard rock scattered around to get enough to form a decent energy ball. I had to repeat the exercise countless times until it only took me a second or two to form a ball the size of an orange.
“That’s enough for today. It will come even faster with practice,” Gregory told me as he picked up his coffee mug and prepared to leave the peaceful clearing.
“I thought I had to learn how to move stuff?” I was tired but still wanted to get all my lessons out of the way. I had a book to work on.
“I’d be willing to wager you can do it now,” he countered. “Okay, one last thing before we go. That piece of granite your mug is sitting on? Move it to your right just a little, then back to its original spot. It’s no different than what you did with the couch pillow at the hotel.”
I eyed the …boulder. It wasn’t huge but nine cubic feet of granite weighed a lot, I was certain.
“Contain the energy you see with your will, then move your container where you want it to go. The energy weighs nothing. It is easy.”
“For you to say,” I thought back. Once again, I felt the pressure of Fudge in the back of my head. I saw the rock’s energy sparkles, imagined a Tupperware container holding those sparkles, then “saw” the container move over a foot and settle back down to the ground. Then I “moved” the container back. Fudge was right
. It was no more difficult than moving my leftover spaghetti from one spot on the kitchen counter to another.
“Oh, well done, Amy!” Gregory clapped his hands. “Now that you know you can move a small boulder, you should be able to move anything else. Out of curiosity, how did you do it?”
He laughed when I told him about the Tupperware. “I know a young Air witch who envisions a blow-dryer to move things with air. Whatever works. Ready to go?”
I was. “How did you find this place?” I asked, trudging behind him while Fudge explored off the trail again.
“State and national parks are wonderful places for city folks to go, even the magical ones. I’ve been to nearly all of the ones within a hundred miles or so of home in the time I’ve been here. Late fall and early spring are fantastic times to be alone in the woods…it’s not warm enough for campers, too wet for hikers, and no snow for skiers. This particular park seems to be nearly deserted in the off-season so I come here often. In the summer I usually avoid the lakes in the cities, as well as the larger lakes, like this one, because there are too many people. There are plenty of places to go for solitude without driving all the way up to the Boundary Waters. You just have to search them out.”
Gregory was just a fount of information. Although a friend owned a cabin up north and I borrowed it on occasion, it wasn’t always available. Something closer to get out of the noise in the city would be nice.
I hauled my little self up into the monstrosity that was the Hummer and asked if he would share his list of places to go. He nodded as Fudge curled up on the seat, looking expectantly at the heating vent. I had to admit, he had a good idea. I was chilled but not to the point of uncontrollable shivering. Fudge at least had a fur coat.
“That does not mean I do not feel the cold. As a matter of fact, I feel it more than you do. I have a higher natural body temperature. The only reason neither of us is shivering is because I can take it. You were warming yourself a bit with the energy.”
Upheaval! Page 15
