The Discovery' (Alternate Dimensions Book 4)

by Blake B. Rivers

  “Of course, he is,” Sybil spoke up. “He just doesn't wear it on his sleeve as you do, Nathaniel.”

  Nathaniel glanced to her, but dismissed the thought, turning to Sienna. “And you, Tiro? Can you play the part?” he asked evenly.

  She cleared her throat. “Yes.”

  “And if Reynolds asks?” Desmond said. “What will your reason be?”

  “That I no longer wish to be a burden,” she answered. “Acheronian Magic does not require a Maestro-Tiro system, and is fueled by desire, not the burden of protecting the universe.”

  A silence fell over the room. Both Nathaniel and Desmond were well aware that Sienna's vocabulary wasn't quite good enough to spontaneously make such a powerful sentence. She had to have been rehearsing it beforehand. And while she could have been preparing for the mission last night, it wasn't like her to be so quick to spout out an answer.

  “I see,” Desmond said. “It is a good answer.”

  “He will believe it?” she asked, and Desmond nodded.

  “Oh yes,” he said. “Reynolds will believe that wholeheartedly.”

  Devon was watching her intently, his breath coming short as her words rang true in his heart. Did she mean that? Was she thinking of such a thing?

  Because he had the same thoughts, and often. He didn't want to walk another path of magic; it wasn't about the fork in the road. It was about the fact that Laura would be left Tiro-less one day, and the older he got, the closer it would be to the tests. He didn't think he'd make it to the tests, and he didn't want to leave Laura so emptyhanded just days before. Somehow, with the luck he had, he thought that it might be the case.

  “Sienna…” Nathaniel opened his arms, and she went forward, giving him a brief hug. But even as she did, she glanced over her shoulder at Devon who raised an eyebrow at her.

  Laura nudged her Tiro. ‘What's up?’ she asked through the bond.

  ‘Nothing,’ Devon managed. ‘Just tired today.’

  ‘Well, we aren't to present ourselves to Reynolds and swear loyalty today, so relax.’ She was so used to his energy levels and his feelings, so protective of him. It wasn't supposed to be that way. He was supposed to be a support to her, learning and growing.

  ‘Sure,’ he said, as Desmond summoned Sienna to him.

  “Be careful, then,” Nathaniel said, trying not to show his anxiety at the situation. His fingers drummed the table, and Sybil put a hand on his shoulder.

  “Have some faith in your Maestro,” Sybil said softly, feeling the tension in the air.

  “Of course,” Nathaniel answered as he watched them head to the door.

  Sienna gave one last look at Devon, and then followed her Maestro onto the busy street that was already full of noise.

  “So many people,” she said as she hurried to keep up with him. He was lost in his own thoughts, and barely remembered to slow his pace for her. “So early.”

  “This is a busy planet,” Desmond said. “People here don't have much, and they are struggling to survive.”

  She could see that it was true in the clothes and in their hungry faces. She realized she had never wanted for those things, despite all her shortcomings. She may be sick, but she was never hungry, never searching for a place to sleep. She felt guilty for getting so much, when she was so useless to the magical cause.

  “Sienna,” Desmond snapped her back to attention, “Reynolds will be relentless in this. His passion is undeniable, and he does not give up, ever. Perhaps if he had given up, perhaps if he had been just a little weaker, we wouldn't be here now.”

  “Would he have passed the tests?” Sienna asked.

  “Yes, of course,” Desmond replied. “He is very strong. He would have passed with flying colors.”

  “Oh,” she said, quietly. “At least there is that.”

  Desmond fell quiet again as they walked.

  “You always take different ones,” Sienna said. “Christa, Nathaniel, me, Reynolds.”

  “I suppose I do that,” Desmond said. “Perhaps I am quicker to see potential in those that others don't.”

  “Desmond,” Sienna said, suddenly, stopping in the street. “It hurt you that Reynolds did not take the tests. After all the work.”

  “It's not the work, Sienna,” he said quietly. “It's the loss of….” he met her eyes. “It's all right. It was a long time ago.”

  “But with me, it will happen again.”

  He put hands on both her shoulders.

  She expected him to say that it wouldn't, that he would stay with her, and that he wasn't going anywhere until she took those tests. But the words that came out of his mouth were much different.

  “But for you, it will be for a different reason–an acceptable reason, that no one will dishonor you for. There is no dishonor in death, nor in the loss of magic outside your control.”

  Her heart sunk into her stomach at those words. He saw her eyes widen, and started to move again.

  “But any one of us could die tomorrow, Tiro. None of that matters in the moment.”

  “It's not just the moment, Desmond. It's the past five years,” she replied, and he raised an eyebrow.

  “Tiro, can you handle this?”

  “Yes,” she assured him, not wanting to let him down. “Yes.”

  “All right,” he said, and they fell into silence as they walked.

  Sybil had given them instructions as to where Reynolds would be, but Sienna had a feeling that he wasn't following them. Desmond's mind was closed off, and he was accessing his former bond with Reynolds.

  Before she knew it, they came upon a darkened building. Everything about it made Sienna's stomach drop as they drew closer. It felt cold and dead. She had met this kind of magic before, but never in such strong doses.

  She drew closer to Desmond as they rang the bell. The buzzer was answered, but no voice came from the other side.

  “Maestro Desmond,” he gave his own name, “and his Tiro, Sienna…former Tiro. Former Maestro. Searching for redemption.”

  There was a pause, and then the gate buzzed open.

  She flickered her wrist, trying to conjure up a protection spell, but Desmond blocked her.

  “There will be no more of that kind of magic, Sienna,” he said, and she felt her stomach sink. The way he said the words sounded so real and so final.

  The courtyard was dark and cold. Even though it was spring, everything inside was dead. It was as if all nature had been sucked from the surrounding areas. She could hear sounds; people in the buildings around them, but they were alone in the darkness.

  The gates closed with a clatter and double locked. She jumped, leaning closer to Desmond.

  “It's all right,” he said, as much for her benefit as for those around them, surely listening. “It's all right. We're safe now.”

  “Maestro Desmond,” came a voice, and they both spun to the right.

  A figure emerged from the shadows, and she squinted into the semi-darkness.

  “Terrian,” Desmond answered, facing the young man who was about Nathaniel's age. “I should have known I would find you here. I remember your training, Terrian, you showed such promise.”

  “And I should have known you'd come around eventually,” Terrian answered. “The grey line you walk.”

  “Is that so?” Desmond answered.

  “But such a special Tiro you've brought with you,” Terrian said, turning to Sienna. He surprised her by speaking in Jeffro to her. “We've heard so much about you.”

  Desmond instantly put an arm across her, pushing her back. “How did you know to speak to her in Jeffro?” he asked.

  Terrian smiled. “We do much research on those coming to us,” he said. “Or those we think we can sway. Come, Reynolds awaits you.”

  “Of course,” Desmond said, but his jaw was set. Sienna reached out to him with her mind.

  ‘He knows so much.’

  ‘Not now, Little one,’ Desmond answered, and she realized that he was afraid of Reynolds listening. After all, i
f Desmond could reach out to Reynolds, Reynolds could listen in.

  Terrian led them deeper into the courtyard, and then through a series of dark hallways that reminded her of where Sybil had first brought them.

  He finally came to a heavily barred door and reached out to the lock with magic that made Sienna ache inside. It was so dark, so strong, and so devoid of anything living.

  The door opened, and she could see a chair placed by a roaring fire.

  “Enter,” Terrian said. “He's waiting.”

  Sienna leaned closer to Desmond as the door latched shut. They stood in silence for a moment, and then the dark figure by the fire stood up and turned around.

  “Maestro,” said Reynolds with a half-smile on his face. “I thought you'd never come back to me.”

  Desmond felt like his heart shattered at the sight of his Tiro again. Reynolds had a slash across his face, and one eye was light blue, useless. The young, eager boy that had been so passionate and so strong, was now a weathered warrior who stood half-stooped, as if the magic was weighing him down.

  “I have come to hear what you propose, Reynolds,” Desmond answered. “Nothing more at the moment.”

  “Is that so?” Reynolds answered with a smile as he drew closer. “Yet you bring your Tiro here, when I know she would rather be with her young Maestro–the young hopeful that replaced me. Isn't that the truth?”

  “Reynolds,” Desmond said steadily, “I have come to hear your proposal. That is all. Are you going to give it to me?”

  “I'll show you instead,” Reynolds said as he moved toward them. “Come with me.”

  Sienna said nothing, her eyes wide as they followed him to the windowsill. There, several dead plants littered the ground, making her ache. So much dead nature was not good for witches who drew their very life force from nature itself.

  “Resurrection,” Reynolds said as they stood by the plants. “The witches' dreamed of mecca. A world where we can save them all, to give everyone a second chance. That is what you always wanted, isn't it, Desmond?”

  “Everyone deserves a second chance,” he echoed. “But that is a common fallacy.”

  “Second chances are always possible,” Reynolds answered with a twist of his wrist.

  Sienna sucked in a breath. He didn't even focus; didn't even blink. The plants twisted back to life, filling with green and rising toward the sun. It took only moments, as their leaves turned out, and their stems moved upwards.

  Both she and Desmond watched in silence, feeling the air.

  “Reynolds,” Desmond said, quietly, “that is not life.”

  “Of course, it is,” Reynolds answered. “Look at them. Who else do you know who can do that?”

  “I can,” Sienna spoke up. “I can bring back the dead.”

  Chapter 12

  Reynolds looked upon her with a smile that made Desmond uneasy.

  “I've heard of your power and your skill,” he said. “But also of your flaws. What happens to you when you bring back the dead?”

  Sienna swallowed, looking to Desmond.

  “She is sick, Reynolds,” Desmond warned. “It would happen to anyone who has that much power inside her.”

  “And whose insides are also raging war,” Reynolds answered. “Your magic is based in nature. Mine is not. I can show you how to bring back the dead this way, and it won't harm you.”

  Sienna remembered the little bird fluttering in her arms and the brokenhearted look on Nathaniel's face when Eliza lay limp. Both those times, the resurrection had nearly killed her, and she knew she couldn't sustain it. As well, bringing back the dead had opened up portals to the world beyond theirs, wrecking nature's very order.

  “The portals?” she asked quietly, and Reynolds shook his head.

  “This isn't Nature,” he assured her. “This won't wreck their plan.”

  He twisted his wrist again, bringing even a dead leaf that had fallen to the floor back to its green state. Sienna looked on in shock.

  “With your permission, Maestro,” Reynolds answered, and Desmond took a long look at Sienna. If he refused her use of this magic, then Reynolds might become suspicious. After all, weren't they supposed to be here because they possibly thought it was right?

  “Carefully,” Desmond said at last. He had no idea how Sienna would react when she experienced Acheronian magic for the first time or whether it would make her sick. He imagined it would; it was still magic, after all. He wasn't sure of the medical facilities around, but he had a feeling that they weren't advanced.

  “Here.” Reynolds reached out for her, and Sienna pulled back instinctively. A lifetime of medical intervention meant that she associated most touch with pain. Sensing this, he paused just before touching her. “Use your left hand, not your right. And instead of drawing from around you, draw from inside yourself.”

  “Huh?” she looked up at him.

  “This is the magic of our ancestors, Sienna,” Reynolds answered. “Not nature.”

  She closed her eyes, imitating his wrist movements again and again without flooding magic into it. When she felt like she had finally gotten the flow of it, she reached deep inside her consciousness. She had heard about doing this, about drawing from her belly rather than pulling from nature, but she was never sure if it worked, and she didn't dare try.

  The leaves crinkled, and she felt her body tingle. She wavered, but regained her focus as she felt the leaves rise, and she opened her eyes.

  They were green.

  “It's easy,” she said, and Reynolds smiled.

  “Isn't it? And how do you feel?”

  Sienna paused, assessing. “Fine,” she said, turning to Desmond. “It's easy.”

  “And surely something so easy,” Reynolds said softly, “something that doesn't hurt her–after a lifetime of hurt–isn't wrong.”

  Desmond had nothing to say to that as he stood watching Sienna. The color was still in her cheeks, and the normal fading vitals after her use of magic were nowhere to be seen. She was smiling, looking at her hands in awe.

  “I think that's enough of a lesson for today,” Reynolds said at last. “Go back to Sybil's hideaway, Desmond. Talk to her and Kierry about what good Acheronian magic has brought them. Come back tomorrow, and we'll talk again. I know how you are. You need time to consider.”

  “I will,” Desmond said. “But you should know that Nathaniel is on planet and looking for me. And likely Sienna.”

  “Ah, Nathaniel,” Reynolds' eyes sparkled. “I heard he got himself into a spot of trouble.”

  “Did you have anything to do with it?” Desmond asked.

  “No,” Reynolds said, and Desmond could tell he was telling the truth. “No, that wasn't my doing.”

  “Whose was it?”

  “I'll never tell,” Reynolds said. “But I'm not the only one who knows how powerful your Tiro is. I just know that I will treat her well. And perhaps make her well.”

  “We will be back tomorrow,” Desmond said, drawing Sienna close. Reynolds mocked a bow in the way Tiros were expected to formally do with their Maestro in public. It seemed odd, out of place, and it rubbed Desmond the wrong way.

  He was surprised they were allowed to exit so easily and without question. He didn't like the way they were able to walk through the streets freely. From what he could tell, no one was watching them; no one was following them.

  “Maestro?” Sienna finally spoke up when they were halfway back to Sybil's place. “What is it?”

  “His plan was never me,” Desmond said, turning to her. “I think his plan is you.”

  Sienna fell silent, trying to process those words. It was what she was afraid of last night as she looked up at the stars. “And what if he doesn't get me?”

  “Reynolds is very determined,” Desmond answered. “He will do what it takes to get your power. But he underestimates not only me and Nathaniel, but also you. He will not have you on his side unless you want to go.”

  She searched for the expression he used. “You said i
t wasn't life,” she replied. “With the plants. What was it?”

  “Residual energy,” Desmond said. “Animation.”

  She shook her head, unable to understand. She didn't want to reach out with the bond, not trusting her own mind right now.

  “Walking dead,” Desmond said, and she understood.

  “Appearing alive….”

  “But dead inside,” he answered. “An imitation of life. The only thing that can create life is nature, no matter what Reynolds thinks.”

  “But I did not feel sick,” she answered. “And now, half an hour later, I am still walking. If I had done that with our magic–”

  “I can see that,” he said softly. “And I can see Reynolds thinks his intentions are right. That is what makes this whole case so hard for me.”

  “Except,” Sienna pointed out, “we are no longer on a case. We are outcasts until the Jurors decide otherwise. Neither here nor there.”

  “Hmm,” Desmond answered.

  “How was it? To see him? Was it as you imagined?”

  “No,” her Maestro answered honestly. “The boy I trained is no longer. Except in moments, in glimpses.”

  “He is powerful,” Sienna said. “Charismatic.”

  “Yes,” Desmond agreed. “He would have made a good witch.”

  “He might still,” Sienna answered, although she knew that was a far-flung hope.

  When they got back to Sybil's hovel, it was quiet. Sybil and Kierry had gone out to the market, looking for supplies. Sienna could feel that Nathaniel was asleep, no doubt sleeping off the poison that had been used to capture him. She searched out Devon and found him on his tablet in the little reading nook.

  “Report?” she asked him as she settled on the couch beside him. “Aren't you undercover?”

  “Yes, but it's easier to write them now and have them ready when we aren't, than to write them all in one go when we get back,” he said, putting down his tablet with a smile. “You're back safe and sound. How was it?”

  “It was….” Sienna searched for the words once again. “It was odd. Strange.”

  “That's not the words I would expect someone to use to describe a fallen witch,” Devon said. “Why so?”