Exiled

by J. R. Wagner

  The orb contracted and Ogilvy continued his narration.

  “Because of my diminished state, I don’t remember much from the next part of our voyage. I stumbled upon the deck and collapsed shivering, dehydrated, and exhausted. The next thing I recall, the sun was just cresting the horizon, backlighting the hills that surrounded the harbor Akil had sailed into. I sat up in the boat, looking for Akil, but I discovered no sign of him. Men were moving about the docks readying for a day of fishing. I was wearing new, dry clothes, yet I had no recollection of having changed.”

  “Why didn’t you transport once you were clear of the prison’s enchantments?” James asked.

  “James, allow Mr. Ogilvy to finish,” Margaret admonished.

  Yet another orb filled the room and the group watched with intrigue.

  Ogilvy made his way to the dock. There was no sign of Akil. Numerous boats, all much larger than the boat he had just disembarked were moored along the dock. At the end of the dock stood a saloon. Ogilvy allowed his hunger to dictate his first destination, and he pulled on the large wooden door, upon which was inscribed with the name The Thrush’s Nest. The bar was crowded with fishermen. Each had a drink in his hand, and none acknowledged Ogilvy as he entered. Every one of them was captivated by the storytelling of a man in the center of the crowd. Ogilvy smiled at the familiar voice. It was Akil.

  “You see, my friends, there is nothing to fear from magic. The power to wield it lies within each and every one of you, should you chose to use it. The fear of it is what prompts some men to demonize it. Do not let other men make up your minds. Discover the truth, which is generally less grandiose or threatening than the truth those who wish to sway your opinions speak. Mortal peril or perpetual danger can be highly motivating for those who believe in it.”

  All of the men nodded as a class of schoolboys would nod at their professor after being told a simple truth that had long eluded them. Finally, someone noticed Ogilvy and turned in his direction. The rest of the crowd turned as well, revealing Akil, who was seated at the bar, drink in his hand.

  “Ah, I see my traveling companion has finally woken,” he said with a smile, rising to his feet. “I am most gracious to all of you for allowing me to share but a glimpse into my world. I trust you will all take what I’ve shown you here today into consideration before passing judgment on our kind in the future.”

  The crowd nodded emphatically at this and several of the men patted him on the back as he moved toward the door. Akil gave Ogilvy a wink and walked past. The door to The Thrush’s Nest closed behind them, and they were alone on the wooden boardwalk that lined the harbor. Ogilvy looked quizzically at Akil but said nothing.

  “I imagine you’re wondering why I divulged the secrets of our kind so readily to the so-called unfaithful?”

  “Well, I’ve never seen anyone be so candid about . . . us with . . . them,” Ogilvy said.

  “The very object of all our efforts is to avoid a war between the magical and nonmagical. Those men may second guess the next time someone tells them sorcerers are a threat to their existence. It makes it difficult to make war when the will of the people is against you.”

  They began to walk, following the ever-widening pathway as it transitioned from wood to cobblestones. The street was lined with three-story structures. Merchants were beginning to stir but were not quite as active as the fishermen down on the docks. Akil led Ogilvy into an unmarked door, up a set of narrow wooden steps, and down a dimly lit hall to a small room. It was furnished with a small bed, a rickety-looking round table, and a pair of mismatched wooden chairs. He offered Ogilvy a seat and took the opposite. His grin was contagious, and soon both were smiling at each other like fools. Finally, Akil spoke.

  “I’ve done it. All their research and resources, and they were beaten by a simple old man. Quite spectacularly, I might add.”

  Akil had a look about him that could be best described as boastful arrogance. He rubbed his hands together as if warming them over a fire and leaned in across the small table.

  “What?” Ogilvy asked, taking the bait.

  “I’ve reversed what they considered irreversible. They’ve been working for decades to come up with a way to irreversibly alter minds, and every time they’d thought they finally accomplished it, their subject either went blitheringly mad or someone managed to reverse the hex—every time until about eleven years ago, that is.”

  Akil stood and began pacing the room excitedly.

  “Eleven years ago Alvaro was able to procure the services of a sorcerer previously thought unprocurable. He had sworn never to do magic again and somehow Alvaro was able to change his mind. He is a great sorcerer, although I doubt you’ve ever heard of him. He is slightly before your time. His name is—”

  “Alexander Vinokourov,” Ogilvy interrupted.

  “So you have heard of him. Marvelous. I trust then, that you are aware of the reason he swore to never use magic again and the accomplishments that gained him his notoriety.”

  “I have a limited knowledge. My father used his story to frighten me to sleep as a child. He told me Vinokourov the Terrible was a dark sorcerer. He worked for many heads of state, training them in the dark powers. In his story he said Vinokourov was killed in the last great battle. I always thought he was just a myth.”

  “I’m afraid not on both counts. Vinokourov the Terrible was not quite as terrible as he’s been made out in children’s stories, but he was indeed a master of the powers some consider dark.”

  Akil had a look of admiration, which Ogilvy, noticeably, found somewhat disturbing.

  “Alexander changed the way we do magic. His discoveries have allowed us to peacefully coexist with unfaithful. It’s ironic that he was such a staunch supporter of eliminating them from existence.”

  Akil paused for a moment, reflecting yet not sharing his thoughts. He continued: “Rumors of his death are legendary. Smote by the great sorcerer from the Far East in an epic battle. In my travels I visited where Alexander was born in Petroavlovsk in hopes of finding some evidence of his survival for I’d been hearing rumors of sightings of him over the years. This led me to the Scottish highlands, where the supposed battle took place. It was here the trail of evidence abruptly came to an end. It turns out the events that took place during that battle as well as the ultimate outcome are nothing but mere speculation.”

  “And how do you know this?” Ogilvy asked.

  “When the trail of evidence ended I returned to London and continued my studies. Always in the back of my mind was the desire to uncover the truth about what happened to Alexander Vinokourov. When Alvaro, who was a peer of mine at the council training program— and, I must say, who was rather less gifted than I in the powers of magic yet rather more gifted in the powers of persuasion—when he finally came into power, I knew what he wished for our kind and for those who did not believe. He spoke of it often as a student. It was then that I decided to keep watch over Alvaro. If I were to dissuade others from falling for his persuasive rhetoric, I needed to know what he was up to.”

  “During one of my reconnaissance missions I discovered the place where you had been held prisoner. Alvaro calls it Cetus. I am quite certain he is not responsible for its original construction. It is here where he conducts business that is beyond the scope of legality. Unlike his predecessors, who were bent on uncovering dark powers that would enable them to forcefully and violently overthrow their opposition, Alvaro solely focused on mind altering. He believes that if he can alter the minds of his opposition he can control their will and have ultimate power. Winning the minds of those who oppose you is much more powerful a feat than forcefully overthrowing them.”

  “When I had made my way into Cetus, it quickly became apparent that Vinokourov was working to help Alvaro finally discover the power of permanent mind alteration.”

  “After years of trial and error through which scores of men died or went insane during their experimentations, he had discovered what he believed was the answer. I
had to see with my own eyes if the rumors were true. Getting into Cetus uninvited had become much more difficult, but as you have witnessed, I was able to gain access.”

  “Luck, it appeared, was on my side, for I inadvertently stumbled into the room in which you were staying. After questioning you at length, I realized the effects of this power were not permanent. I found myself disappointed in the simplicity of the resolution, and yet I had to be sure I was correct.

  Ogilvy gave a halfhearted smile across the table.

  “Then, it was simply a matter of waiting until you were alone which, unfortunately, took quite some time. When the opportunity finally presented itself, I tested my hypothesis. The result sits across from me at this very moment.”

  The image dimmed and the orb contracted. It was a moment before anyone in the room spoke.

  “Akil convinced me . . . I decided to return to Alvaro,” Ogilvy said and grimaced, as if he’d swallowed a mouthful of sour milk. “I cannot recall much of what happened over the past eleven years. It’s all blurry, vague. When I returned to Alvero, Akil made it so I would not remember anything about our escape.”

  “So you became a spy for Akil?” Margaret said, fascinated.

  “In a manner of speaking,” a new voice said from across the hall.

  The group turned, startled. Akil stood beside the door, having made his way inside without a sound. He wore a stern expression on his face.

  “I had no other choice but to return David to Alvaro,” said Akil moving toward the others. “Had Alvaro caught wind of his escape or the knowledge that his mind-altering incantation was reversible, everything that David sacrificed would have been for nothing. He and his family would be hunted down like dogs.”

  Tears began to roll down Tabitha’s cheeks as Akil reached a hand to her shoulder.

  “Why are you here now?” Margaret asked, looking at Ogilvy.

  “My incantation failed,” said Akil. “David saw Margaret and James at council headquarters and had a memory recall, which broke my incantation and thrust him back into his previous mind.

  “So he just left Alvaro?” asked James.

  “I . . . I needed to know my family was all right,” Ogilvy said, looking at his wife who refused to make eye contact.

  “I intercepted David before Alvaro was able to contain him. Had he been able to track you here, he would have led Alvaro to this place as well.”

  “What happens now?” asked James.

  “Now, I’m afraid, there is no hiding the fact that Alvaro’s mind-altering incantation is not permanent. He will surely set Vinokourov upon the task of continuing his work. As for David, his mind contains information Alvaro will be desperate to hide at any cost. The choice of what he wants to do with that information, I leave to him. As for you both,” Akil said looking at James and Margaret, “you must distance yourself from David and his family immediately. Anyone in close contact with David will find themselves in grave danger.”

  “I could not recall anything that happened immediately after our escape from Cetus,” Ogilvy said, looking at Akil. “Not one thing until I saw James and Margaret walking toward council headquarters. Then, like a flash, my past life came back to me. And now, as I stand here, something else has come back, and it frightens me more than anything I could have imagined.”

  — 26 —

  The Severed Heart

  James, Kilani, Luno, William, and Roger sailed to the Severed Heart without incident. They anchored in the northern cove, which faced the same direction as North Harbor and was similar geographically, with beach on the southern portion and cliffs to the west. A thin row of trees ran along the narrow strip of land separating the northern and southern beaches. The row to shore was fast and effortless with James’s newfound skills. Not having to worry about finding a water source, (again thanks to James’s newfound abilities) they made camp on the beach.

  When they made landfall, Luno immediately began putting his crew to work. After camp was set up to his specifications, which included moving the shelter three times, he decided to break the group into search parties. This time, he kept a man behind to look over camp and the Queen Mary.

  Kilani and Roger would follow the northern coast while James and Luno would follow the southern. When they reached the western shore, they would turn and head back toward camp, following the same line only slightly to the north or south depending upon their respective groups. Kilani and Roger were off at a maddening pace long before Luno had finished relaying instructions to William on what he should do in the event something were to happen while they were away.

  “If you are attacked, be it man or beast or other force we’ve yet to encounter,” Luno said, turning William’s calm expression fearful, “you should first attempt to defend the camp. Always leave an escape route. If your defense fails, retreat to the boat. Do not under any circumstances raise anchor, do you understand?”

  “Oui, Capitan,” said William looking not in the least bit pleased.

  “Very well,” he said cheerfully, “we’re off.”

  James leaned forward in preparation to take off at a run, but Luno simply sauntered down the beach.

  “Let us, as an old and extremely wise wizard once said, pursue that flighty temptress adventure,” Luno said, picking up a piece of driftwood and inspecting it closely for a moment. He began practicing using it as a walking stick.

  “We’re not running?” James asked.

  “We have much to discuss, my boy, and I find it most difficult to talk while I’m trying to dodge trees and rocks that are rushing at me. Not to mention, it feels good just to walk along and take in our surroundings rather than pass through them so fast we cannot enjoy their beauty. Wouldn’t you agree?”

  “Aye,” James said, looking at him suspiciously.

  “First things first, my boy. Teach me that primer incantation.”

  James smiled. “Tertiri zé Manukto. To perform an incantation in this place, you must first ask permission to do so. Even if you know the incantation, it will be of little use without first asking permission.”

  So they continued along at a snail’s pace compared to Kilani and Roger, who’d reached the northern tip of the cove before James and Luno had even reached the stream that ran from the higher elevation down into the cove. James spent most of the beginning part of their walk explaining useful incantations to Luno. They also discussed the language itself, which was completely different than anything either of them had encountered. As James had discovered during his experience with the stone spire, each native word had one and only one meaning and no single word shared the root of another. Both Luno and James agreed this system was highly complicated and extremely difficult to learn.

  When they finally did reach the stream, both of them looked at it with surprise. James scooped up the water with his hands and said a word in the native tongue.

  “It’s drinkable,” he said, looking up at Luno.

  “Perhaps that incantation isn’t necessary after all,” Luno chortled. “We should relocate camp up here.”

  He bent and drank from the stream. James could see the tracks Kilani and Roger had left in the soil along the edge. His thoughts strayed to her. What if she were injured? He didn’t like being separated from her in an unfamiliar place. He tried to reassure himself. As he’d learned many times over, Kilani was more than capable of taking care of herself. He cared for her. The more time he spent with her, the stronger that feeling became. Despite her relationship with Luno, he believed she was starting to feel the same.

  Luno had dunked entire head into the stream and James couldn’t help but smile as his hair danced on the surface like clouds in a breeze. He finally resurfaced, flipping his hair back and rubbing his bearded face with his now clean hands.

  “You should try it,” he said. “The most goddamn refreshing thing I’ve ever felt.”

  James did try and indeed it was.

  “I think,” said Luno, “we should follow the stream.”

  Without waiti
ng for an answer, he began to walk along the bank as it twisted deeper into the jungle. James followed. He felt comfortable for the first time since their voyage began as they strolled along the path, which had been worn by all the creatures that came to drink.

  The banks became steeper as they pressed on. The vegetation lining the stream also became more dense, making it nearly impossible to follow while keeping the water in sight. In the end, both Luno and James decided the best course of action would be to wade in the stream rather than travel along its banks. The bottom was rocky and very slick, making travel slow. Luno didn’t appear to mind as he continued to question James about the language of The Never.

  “What I find quite intriguing is the lack of a word for death,” said Luno. “There’s ‘life,’ ojala, ‘pain,’ lieska, and even ‘loss,’ törmãlã, but not death. Fascinating.”

  “Perhaps it exists but was intentionally omitted,” James pondered.

  “Interesting theory, fascinating in and of itself, actually. I imagine with that word would come an incredible and terrible power, so yes, perhaps you are correct. This place doesn’t want anyone to have that power.”

  “Except her, who apparently has no problem wielding it,” said James, referring to the island.

  “Again, you are correct. Your powers of perception have indeed sharpened with time in this place. Or perhaps they simply come with age,” Luno said. “How old are you, boy?”

  “Nearly seventeen,” James replied.

  “My god,” said Luno, “I never realized you were quite so young. This place does things to a man.”

  They reached the base of a nearly vertical section of the stream. The water spilled from pool to pool each nested among large boulders. The men climbed to the first pool where they stopped and gazed into the water. The pool was deep, much deeper than the size of the boulders in which it was wreathed. An emerald glow sparkled from beneath the surface. The sun overhead cast rays of light that danced in the moving water.