The Magical Book of Wands

by Raven M. Williams

  Her brow furrowed. “Is this what I think it is?”

  “Yes,” he admitted.

  “I thought it was lost!” she accused, sounding genuinely hurt.

  Rylan felt a twinge of guilt. “I didn’t want you to sell it.”

  Her arm fell heavily to her side. “What? But it’s a family heirloom!“

  He turned to tie the stone back on the staff. “You sold everything else! Besides, you don’t believe.”

  She barked a laugh. “What’s to believe? That our family came here from another universe millennia ago? Oh, Rylan.”

  He ignored her, and when she tried to grasp his elbow, he tore it away. When she tried again, more gentle this time, Rylan turned, unsure.

  She spoke to him in soft tones, uncharacteristic for her. “When Mom and Dad died, I was eighteen, not much older than you are now, and responsible for raising my twelve-year-old brother. I did what I had to do but now that you’re older I need you to help me; that’s why I’m so hard on you.”

  “I want to help! But you act like I’m always screwing up and you’re always ashamed of me.”

  She put her hands on his shoulders. “I’m not ashamed of you. In fact, you’re the only person I trust. Seriously. That’s why I need you to be strong.” She gave a small laugh. “Us against the world.”

  “I’m not like you. You’ve always got to be the strongest person in the room. I don’t care about that.”

  Her lips became a thin line. “Then how do you stop people from beating you up or taking advantage of you?”

  “Getting beat up isn’t the point; the point is not letting that control me.”

  Naia shook her head. “I don’t get it.”

  Rylan sighed. “Getting beat up is just someone trying to control me. So what? I get bruises. I don’t care what other people think of me. That’s not to say it’s not hard sometimes. When I’m feeling down, I come here, where I feel like I’m part of something bigger, more connected. That makes my problems seem smaller. That gives me strength.”

  “I never thought of it that way,” she said. She looked down and toed the Spirit stone. “So why the Satanic symbols and the pentagram, what do they do for you?”

  At least she’s interested, he said to himself, measuring his patience by the cup. “This is a septagram, not a pentagram, and neither have anything to do with the devil anyway. This is about nature and connection.”

  She took a few steps around the septagram and nodded. “Okay, so let’s say I want to know.”

  “Want to know what, exactly?”

  “What it is you do here, you mung bean. What Mom and Dad did.”

  “Okay, I say a mantra, if you’re serious. De nova va; de va, alluwe. Jae coll e’bron, s’awa ken t’benagger cha.”

  He looked at her expectantly.

  She flipped her hair over her shoulder, unimpressed. “What’s that, Klingon?”

  “No, I don’t know what language it is, but it means ‘from two, one; from one, all. I summon the bridge, the bridge to the First Realm.’”

  She coughed, Rylan suspected to cover a laugh. “A bridge to what?” she asked.

  He shrugged. “It’s a metaphor for connection ... getting back to your roots and all that.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “You don’t sound so sure.”

  “I am sure,” he said, not really sure.

  But what they meant didn’t really matter; they were just words to help you focus. He took the World stone from her and put it back in its place.

  He stepped back and took her hand. “Clear your mind. Close your eyes, repeat after me, and let the words flow through you.”

  He began the incantation and Naia followed along perfectly after only a few tries. He noticed right away there was something different. He attributed it to having her here, for once not doing it alone. The air felt filled with electricity and their voices echoed from the trees in a way that pressed into his skin. Naia seemed to sense it too, her hand gripping his almost painfully.

  So caught up in the words, he didn’t notice the sound of the thunder of a distant falls, Naia’s hair blowing in the still air, her pendant shining like a miniature sun, or the letters in a language not known to Earth appearing white against the black of the World stone.

  Naia screamed when their world exploded.

  Chapter 4

  Naia sat next to him, staring ahead when he awakened, her face bathed in shifting bluish light. When he looked at what she was seeing, his blood ran cold.

  Where the staff had been was a ten-foot-wide circular portal into a huge room made of stone, braziers burning to give the only light.

  A battle was going on, but not all were human. One creature at the far end of the room looked dump-truck-sized and vomit-green, grunting and sending people flying with a club the size of a small tree.

  Naia cleared her throat. “Has this ever happened before?”

  “No,” Rylan replied, awestruck. Naia took his hand and approached the portal to watch, spellbound.

  In the foreground, a thirty-something man wearing regal robes fought for his life on the steps of a throne, defending with a longsword against the flashing twin knives of a much smaller woman, a woman with mid-back-length silver hair and clad in roughspun clothes that looked made to blend into the forest.

  She was impossibly fast and nimble, but so was he, holding his own with the sword, blocking every thrust but weakening. He had an arrow in his side and blood stained his robes all the way to the floor.

  His gaze turned toward the portal and he froze, his eyes wide and locked with Rylan’s.

  The woman swept his legs, the sword clattering to the steps, and she stepped with her back to the portal with a triumphant cry, her knives poised for a death stroke. “T’merene junara, Jolon’Toth!” she declared.

  The man twisted, scrabbling for something among the steps and found it, aiming it at the woman. “Kem’et’lon!”

  A bolt of light, somehow bright and black at the same time, burst forth from his wand. With a scream, the woman dodged and the blast came through to Naia, striking her in the chest. She turned wide-eyed and terrified to Rylan before collapsing.

  “No!” he exclaimed, catching her as she fell.

  “Something ... in me,” she said, choking.

  He tore open her shirt and with horror, he watched as dozens of foot-long black pencil-lead things crawled like worms just beneath her skin, radiating out from where she’d been hit. He tried to claw them out but it was no use; if they had a physical substance, he couldn’t feel it, and in any event, he had no chance of stopping them without tearing her skin off.

  Rylan’s anguish was interrupted by an unmistakable presence behind him. He turned to look, and the man who shot Naia was standing right there, taking in the trees with interest.

  With a battle yell, the woman leapt through the portal and aimed her wand. “Ta’kuva’ne!”

  Nothing happened; she stared at the wand in shock.

  The man turned and aimed his own wand. “Kerr’ik’naa!”

  Nothing happened.

  She drew her knives and advanced, growling something in her language that sounded a lot to Rylan like, Good, I get to kill you with my bare hands.

  Rylan pulled Naia out of the way, his entire body wracked with sobs as he tried to wake her up; the black tendrils had reached her face, were still moving, and there was nothing he could do about it. He held her closer when the portal closed with a pop and threw the entire clearing into sepulchral darkness.

  A crunching sound behind him caught his attention and he turned; the woman bounced off a tree and laid still, her wand flying through the air to land next to Rylan.

  The man turned his attention to Rylan and Naia. Rylan grabbed for the wand, its smooth blond wood fitting easily into his hand.

  “Stay away from us!” Rylan shouted, his hand shaking as he aimed it at the man.

  The man’s eyes widened in fear as he watched the point of the wand, but relaxed when it remained inert. He
laughed and backhanded Rylan out of the way as he reached for Naia.

  His head ringing, Rylan wheeled, aimed the wand again and yelled, “Kerr’ik’naa!” not knowing what else to say and not expecting anything to happen.

  Massive energy rippled within him, burning his insides and feeling like it was coming from the Earth itself. A thunderbolt of white energy exploded outward through the point of the wand, striking the man in the chest. With a silent scream, he writhed as a massive hole appeared and grew until the energies had devoured him and nothing remained but an acrid cloud of smoke and burning flesh.

  Rylan collapsed, falling over Naia’s body. The last thing he saw before falling unconscious was the woman in green approaching them, her mouth agape.

  Chapter 5

  Rylan awoke to being shaken and slapped, to the angry eyes of the woman in green.

  He was stunned by her beauty; her face was like a creature carved from marble and brought to life. But she was also oddly ... wrong. Eyes a bit too blue, cheekbones a bit too high, hair a bit too white, and the ears pointed.

  “Are you an elf?” he asked with awe all in a tumble, his voice shaking.

  She let him go but stayed in close. “Krasok donarat karelim!” she said. “Con y’tae Toth da!”

  Rylan recoiled from the barrage of words. “I don’t understand you!” he said, exasperated. “Where’s Naia?”

  Feeling unable to breathe, he sprung up to scan the clearing; she was nowhere to be seen. “Where’s Naia? What have you done with her?”

  The elf shook her head. “Toth tova da. Can tuella, e’tue bahn.”

  Her words had a familiar sound to nursery rhymes his mother would sing, but they had no specific meaning to him. He shook his head.

  The elf blew out her breath in frustration and went to where Naia had been. She pantomimed opening her eyes and then pointed at her neck, mimicking an... explosion?... accompanied by the word, “l’arun’he.”

  That word he knew, or thought he did. “You mean ‘arume?’” he asked. “Light? Like, her pendant glowed?”

  The elf stopped dead and stared at him. “Ché,” she replied. “Arumé. L-Light,” she said around the unfamiliar words.

  Then she made an “erasing” gesture where Naia had been. “E’tue bhan,” she said slowly.

  “And she disappeared,” Rylan guessed and said aloud, while making a gesture like dispersing smoke.

  “Ché,” she said grimly.

  “But where is she?” Rylan asked, “What happened to her? Is she dead?”

  The elf shook her head. “Na.”

  She stood straight, extending her hands palm out, then crossed them at her chest while bowing her head. “Elwen. Jae talla Elwen.”

  She’s telling me her name. I’m having first contact with a creature from another world.

  Rylan made the same gesture. “Rylan. My name is Rylan.”

  “Naaame ... Wrylen,” she repeated.

  Close enough.

  He pointed to the ground. “Naia,” he said. “Her name is Naia. Help me find her.”

  “Naia’Toth,” she corrected, and turned her eyes downcast. “Jae’tabron’aren.”

  “Well, I’m not giving up on her,” Rylan replied. “Show me how to find her!”

  Elwen walked past him to the septagram, observing the seven points and their talismans. She gathered some of the them—the three heirlooms, he noted with a chill—and placed them on a tree stump.

  She aimed her wand at the World stone and said, “T’revelé ekrit.”

  Nothing happened. She sucked air between her teeth and repeated.

  Again, nothing.

  She shot him a look. “Kal s’tovit t’cha, khet?”

  “Hey, don’t look at me ... different worlds, different physics,” he replied.

  She bared her teeth in frustration, then pushed her wand into his hands. “T’iarracht,” she said, and pointed to the stones.

  “Okay,” he replied, and positioned himself, feeling slightly foolish. “T’revelé ekrit.”

  The wand felt warm but that was it. No difference after several more tries, either.

  “I’m sorry,” Rylan said, trying to give the wand back. “I don’t know how to do it.”

  She refused the wand with a nasty-sounding word in Elvish, then took a deep breath and let it out again. “Duwe,” she said softly. “Duwe. E’tana kret,” and gestured to their surroundings, pulling in her arms like gathering wheat.

  “Relax and pull in the energy,” is what he got from her movements.

  He, took a deep breath, imagining himself pulling in energy “from the trees and rocks,” Naia’s vice derisively echoing in his mind as he tried it.

  Nothing ... if anything, the wand felt cold.

  Dammit.

  “I—” Rylan started, but before he could get any further, Elwen slipped behind him and pressed herself to his back, her long arms folding across his chest. Rylan shuddered as her body warmth invaded his, and her lips at his ear whispered, “Duwé. T’revelé ekrit.”

  He ignored his hormones and concentrated on the feel of her on his back, the press of her palms on his chest, and the rhythm of her breath on his cheek.

  Quieting his mind, his senses felt heightened. He imagined he could hear the rabbits foraging in the leaves, the mice scrambling in the underbrush, the worms grinding in the soil. Reaching out his mind to those sounds, he felt the life there.

  He aimed the wand at the World stone.

  T’revelé ekrit,” he said, and the wand leapt backward, nearly hitting him in the eye as it whizzed past his ear.

  Chapter 6

  “Is it supposed to do that?” Rylan demanded in equal parts anger, joy, and wonder.

  Elwen detached herself from him and retrieved the wand from where it had landed a few feet away, returning it to him. Her eyes were bright with bemusement.

  Directing him to the stones arrayed on the stump, she pocketed the World stone and pointed to the Mind stone, teaching him a firmer hold on the wand.

  Rylan tried again; the wand kicked back as it did before, but didn’t fly out of his hand this time.

  He was beside himself. He felt like he was in a dream. I’m doing honest-to-God magic! I can’t wait to tell Naia ... she was so wrong! The memory of her saddened him, reminded him of what he was doing. I don’t know whether she’s dead, or worse. Focus, Rylan.

  He looked to Elwen, who pointed to the Spirit stone, impatient to get on with it.

  This wand is power beyond my imagining, he thought to himself, not sure he wanted it. Look what’s already happened. But it’s the only way to fix this.

  He said the words and this time the wand didn’t kick back, but pulled forward instead.

  Elwen snatched up the Spirit stone and held it, delighted, pointing to her clothes and repeating Naia’s name.

  He got what she meant: with the Spirit stone and something personal of Naia’s, they could find her. Excited with purpose, Rylan packed up his “go” kit.

  He let Elwen keep the stones she’d already taken.

  She said nothing further as they walked, instead busying herself studying her surroundings. She was flummoxed when they came to the edge of of the tiny forest, eyes wide as she took in the endless streets with their rows of houses and manicured lawns.

  As they moved down the sidewalk, Rylan noted her soft boots made no sound at all against the pavement; in fact, she was silent as a cat, her movements fluid and light, her knees always slightly bent as if ready to move in any direction.

  She’d make the perfect assassin.

  She stopped and crouched with her knives out; he only knew because he’d been looking right at her when she did it.

  What the hell now?

  While Rylan waited, trying not to imagine some bug-eyed huge thing coming to eat them alive, a panel truck rumbled around a curve, its lights spotlighting them for a moment before continuing on.

  Elwen kept her eyes on the truck the entire time, ready to spring on it in a moment�
��s notice and murder it.

  He stifled a laugh. “It’s a truck,” he explained. “It’s harmless!”

  This earned a sharp look from her as color rose in her cheeks. “Truck. Ché, yes,” she said, making as if she always knew.

  She learns English fast, Rylan thought. And she’s embarrassed.

  Rylan wanted to tell her not to be, that he understood it was a new world for her. But he didn’t have the words. Unable to think of anything else, he said nothing and continued on.

  She fell in by his side as she had before, but seemed to be trying not to look as much like a tourist; she no longer swiveled her head, but her eyes were active as fireflies.

  Chapter 7

  Once they arrived home, Rylan led her to Naia’s room.

  It filled him with sadness: it was just as she’d left it, door open, covers back, night table lamp on. He imagined her calling his name and cursing when she found him gone.

  Elwen was unburdened by such thoughts and went straight to Naia’s jewelry box on the dresser, which she picked up and held out to him. “Ana arené terremena?”

  Rylan selected a lone earring of a pair their mother had given Naia when she graduated first in her middle school class: aquamarine set in plate silver. Naia had been devastated when she went to wear them for their parents’ memorial service and discovered one missing.

  Probably on a drunken date, Rylan always thought; Naia had been a wild teenager.

  Elwen inspected it then pulled out the Spirit stone and held the earring to one end. “J’nae etteracht t’ekrit da?”

  Again, he didn’t really understand what she’d said, but had a good guess. He waved for her to follow him and they went to the kitchen where he fished out a rubber band from the junk drawer. “Will this do?”

  She stretched it a couple times in her fingers before shrugging and double-wrapping it on the stone to hold the earring in place. Then she made a gesture like she wanted something to suspend the whole thing, so Rylan located some kite string.

  So now we’ve made a compass, and every compass needs a map.