Savant (The Luminether Series)

by Richard Denoncourt

  Basher turned to Leticia.

  “I have to know,” he said. “Different how?”

  Leticia studied the glowing web without speaking. Basher was about to ask again when Coscoros motioned for him to shut up.

  “We’ll find out soon enough,” the Dark Acolyte said, clenching his wings together.

  Chapter 34

  When Kovax spoke, his voice was a dry hiss that seemed to come from the rotting leaves and twisted branches surrounding them.

  “It’s time.”

  After weaving the web of energy into the air, Kovax used another spell to knit the brilliant lines together into a sturdy-looking rope, which he then coiled and slung over his shoulder.

  Coscoros, Leticia, and Basher stood by, waiting for his next command.

  “Stomp out the fire.”

  Basher put it out with one massive stomp of his boot. Kovax looked at the Berserker, and the rest of the party could sense, by the shallow way he drew each breath, that he was exhausted.

  “I need your strength.”

  Basher nodded and helped Kovax hoist the glowing rope off his shoulder. He held it in his big, rugged hands as though it were no more than twine.

  “Now what?”

  “There’s a heavy part at one end,” Kovax said. “A bulb. I need you to swing it up at the shack. Keep doing it, as hard as you can, until something happens.”

  Basher’s eyes narrowed into slits. “Hey, wait a minute. What’s going to happen?”

  Kovax gave a cynical smile. “Those boulders will come crashing down on us, and we’ll die. Unless you can smash them.”

  “Um—yes—yessir?”

  Coscoros sighed. “What an adventure this turned out to be.”

  It only took the Berserker one swing to break the invisible shield encasing the shack. There was a flash of white light. When it cleared, they heard a vast and terrible rumble—the sound of the earth about to split open at their feet.

  “Your hammer!” Kovax screamed. He searched for Coscoros and Leticia, found them, and waved them over. “To me! To me!”

  They gathered beneath the towering Berserker. Black chunks of rock broke off the side of the mountain and came crashing down, tumbling and skipping in the dark. Running would not have helped—the boulders were going to demolish the entire forest.

  Basher swung his warhammer at any boulder that came close. The others clutched their ears at the horrible racket this created. Kovax stared down at the ground, his hand a tight fist over his heart.

  This had all been so easy—so far.

  BOOM! BRRRRSHH! The hammer shattered the boulders into chunks. Basher’s back and shoulders swelled. He looked huge in the dark, like a rock golem at full maturity.

  “Hoooooo-weee!” he shouted. “Take that!”

  Leticia cowered by Basher’s knees, stinger raised as if she could sting the boulders away. Coscoros had draped his wings over his body, cocooning himself in black feathers. Kovax stared at the ground and clenched his teeth.

  After minutes that felt like hours, the boulders stopped crashing down and Kovax opened his eyes. The forest gave a low murmur as everything settled back into place.

  “Is it over?” A hint of hysteria in Leticia’s voice. Her tail had wrapped around one leg.

  “Not yet,” Kovax said. “Now we climb. Basher, swing that rope again. The bulbous end will stick to anything it touches. Try and get it over the ridge.”

  Sweat ran down the Berserker’s face and chest as if someone had poured it over him. He was taking deep breaths and grinning, eyes wide with delight.

  “Was that it?” he said.

  “That was the easy part,” Kovax said.

  Coscoros stood, brushing dust off his wings. “Why can’t I just fly up there? I’ll attach the end of the rope to the cabin. I’ll even open the door for you.”

  “No.” Kovax scowled at him. “We broke through his shield, but you’ll die if you touch any part of this mountain. That includes the shack. Now shut your mouth and get back.”

  “Is there anything I can do?” Leticia said.

  “Not yet.”

  Kovax nodded at Basher, who reached back and began to swing the glowing rope. Light and shadow flickered against his body. When he let go, the bulbous end flew up and smacked against the shack in a burst of sizzling light. It stuck, just as Kovax had said it would.

  A reaction took place in which the bulbous tip turned red and a vile surge of scarlet energy began to flow back down the rope toward Basher. It happened in three blinks of an eye, so fast that Basher almost didn’t have time to drop the rope. The Berserker fell back with a shout.

  When he opened his eyes, Kovax was holding the rope. The red energy had stopped at the low mage’s hands. The part of the rope swinging by his feet remained blue in color.

  “Let me guess,” Coscoros said. “That red stuff would have fried him.”

  “This isn’t a joke,” Kovax said.

  He gave the rope a good squeeze and let go. The blue and red light merged and became a neutral white. They watched the rope disintegrate like a strip of dried plaster crumbling in the wind.

  “The mountain and the shack are safe now,” Kovax said, looking up at the small building. “I blew its circuit, as the humans would say.”

  Basher grunted.

  “You’ll have to fly us up there,” Kovax said.

  Coscoros shrugged. “Should be easy enough.”

  “That’s what you think,” Basher said. “I weigh over two hundred stone.” He pulled the warhammer back and rested it on his shoulder. “Might be too much even for you, Cos.”

  Coscoros leaped toward the Berserker and grabbed the business end of the warhammer. The flapping of his wings tossed back the branches.

  Basher, keeping a firm grip on the handle, kicked his feet in wild confusion as he was lifted through the air.

  “Hey! What are you doing? Put me down!”

  Coscoros laughed. “Hold on tight, you ninny.”

  He lifted the Berserker, coursing in a zigzag pattern up the steep slope, and dropped him onto the ledge next to the shack. Then he dived back down to pick up the others. After a graceful backflip, he landed in front of Leticia.

  “How about a lift, sweetheart?” He grinned at her.

  Leticia’s stinger rose behind her, sharp and deadly, a tiny bubble of poison dotting the tip.

  “I’ll be gentle,” he said. “I promise.”

  She hissed at him. “No touching any part of me you don’t have to.”

  “I’ll be a gentleman.”

  He put his arms around her waist. She pulled her face away from his in disgust. His wings began to beat the air again, slowly at first and then quickly as their bodies rose. The stoic look on Leticia’s face softened and she found herself staring into his black eyes.

  “This is…” she began.

  “Nice?”

  She nodded and let her tail go limp and harmless. “Just don’t get the wrong idea.”

  When they got up to the ledge, they saw that Kovax was already there.

  “Sir, how did you get up here so fast?” Basher said.

  Kovax gave him a look of disgust. “Magic, you idiot.”

  Then he turned to face the door of the shack. The wind crashed against the side of the mountain, and he could hear it howling in the distance. He raised his right hand, formed a fist, and knocked three times on the wet wood.

  The windows brightened as a light turned on inside.

  Chapter 35

  The morning after Sevarin’s trick in the attic, a pair of hands shook Milo awake.

  “Wha—?” he said, blinking his sleep-crusted eyes. “What’s wrong?”

  Emma’s blonde hair shone in the sunlight streaming in through the window. It fell around her shoulders, held back along the top by a blue headband. She wore a simple blue sundress with a matching ribbon that cinched around the midsection and formed a bow. She had been dressing more and more like a pretty doll since arriving in Astros. Milo wondered if
this had something to do with the fact that Lily, Calista, and Sevarin were all older than her by two years. She was probably just compensating for—

  “Hey!” She shook him. “Snap out of it!”

  “I just woke up,” he said. “Give me a break.” He joined his hands together behind his head and relaxed against the pillow. “So, what’s up?”

  “You didn’t come to breakfast.”

  “I know.” He rolled toward the window and pulled up the covers. “It’s Saturday. Breakfast is optional.”

  She sighed. “It’s not like you. Even back home you were always awake before everyone else.”

  Milo’s voice came out muffled. He had buried his face in his pillow.

  “People change,” he said.

  “Uh-huh. I guess you don’t want to fly Vastanon today, then.”

  “What?” He sat up. His hair was all out of place. “What are you talking about?”

  Emma crossed the room, already on her way out. When she spoke it was with a light, snobby bounce in her voice.

  “Guess you’ll just have to come outside and find out.”

  It was a breezy morning, cold but comfortable, with just the slightest hint of winter in the air.

  The mountains in the distance, known as Taryn’s Teeth, ran up the middle of the continent, more like a spine than teeth. They looked brown and ancient on sunny days like today, and Milo was admiring them and yawning as Ascher led Vastanon out of the barn.

  Emma dug her elbow into his side. “Here he is.”

  Ascher led the radiant white creature toward the orphans, his movements gentle and unhurried.

  “There, now,” he said into the levathon’s ear. “Gentle, gentle.”

  All of the orphans aged fourteen years or more were there, including some of the Humankin orphans Milo didn’t know very well. He knew some of their names—Sticks, Lano, Shia, Petra, Nelope, and Jo—but had found it difficult to discover much more than that. They were older than Milo, and the fact that they were Humankin made it even more difficult to get along with them. Rumors had spread that Milo and Emma were putting the ranch in danger simply by being there. As a result, most of the Humankin orphans chose to stay away from the twins. At least the Godkin orphans had abilities they could use to defend themselves should something terrible happen. In truth, Milo felt a little guilty about the discrepancy. He’d been born a Savant, which meant he hadn’t earned his capacity for magic. It had been a gift.

  “Hey, Earth to Milo.”

  “Huh?”

  Emma nudged him. He had to tell her to stop doing that.

  Ascher was looking down at him with a hint of a smile on his broad, bearded face.

  “We lost you there for a second. I was asking if anyone wanted to go first.”

  He indicated the harness on the levathon’s back.

  “Um…”

  “You don’t have to. It’s just that everyone pointed at you when I asked.”

  Milo looked back at the others. Sticks and Lano and a few of the other Humankin orphans were grinning at him.

  “I’ve never done it,” Milo said, stuffing his hands into his pockets. His fingers had gone ice-cold.

  It was Sevarin who spoke. “That’s the point, son. Everyone here has done it except you and Blondie.”

  Emma gave Sevarin a cold glance but said nothing. She crossed her arms and looked hopefully at Milo.

  “Well?” she said, lifting her eyebrows and whispering fiercely. “Show them.”

  Milo slid his hands deeper into his pockets. “Why not.”

  Ascher beckoned for him to come forward. Milo took baby steps, feeling as if his stomach had dropped into his pants. He couldn’t believe this was happening. He had wanted to fly a levathon for months, but now that he was actually going to do it, all he could think about was getting back to the ranch and sitting down for a nice, warm breakfast.

  “Don’t worry about falling off,” Ascher said. “The harness has a seatbelt and shoulder straps that could keep even me in place. Not that Vastanon here could ever support this grandiose body in flight.”

  Ascher patted his enormous belly. The orphans giggled. Milo wanted to crack a smile but couldn’t. He felt more like vomiting.

  “So what do I have to do? Do I have to control him?”

  Sevarin snorted laughter. “You can try.”

  “You don’t have to do anything of the sort,” Ascher said. “Vastanon is well-trained for these lessons. He’s going to fly you around for a bit to get you accustomed to being in the air. If it turns out you’re made for flying—and some people aren’t; they just don’t have the stomach for it—then I’ll have one of our teachers show you how to maneuver. That’ll come much later, of course.” He held out an open hand. “Ready, Milo?”

  “Beam me up, Scotty,” Milo said. Emma was the only one who laughed. The others stared at him in confusion. “Never mind. I’m ready.”

  Ascher put his hands beneath Milo’s arms, lifted him, and set him on Vastanon’s back. The levathon sidestepped a bit as he got used to Milo’s weight.

  “There, now,” Ascher said, putting the straps around Milo’s waist and shoulders. He cinched them with sudden, forceful movements that reminded Milo of those carnies who strap you into rides at carnivals and amusement parks. He had never liked those people, with their bad breath and acne-ridden faces and expressions of utter boredom.

  He wished he’d gone to the bathroom before leaving the ranch.

  “Everything OK?” Ascher whispered to him.

  Milo gave a quick nod and stared at Vastanon’s silky white mane of hair. The levathon tossed its head from side to side and snorted.

  He would never forgive Ascher for what happened next.

  Without warning, the man gave the levathon a hard slap on the rump. Feeling as though he’d been shot from a cannon, Milo coursed through the cool air. He didn’t realize he was screaming until a few seconds later, when his mouth dried out. The orphans cheered him on, though he could barely hear them over the rushing air.

  “Whoa-ho-ho!” he shouted into the wind.

  Vastanon picked up speed, hooves clomping against the dirt. Trees rushed by in blurs. The air stung his eyes. The straps were tight against his waist and shoulders but not tight enough to keep his butt from lifting and slamming back down against the leather. He wondered if the levathon would ever lift off, or if this was some sort of joke meant to scare him into thinking he was actually going to—

  Vastanon’s wings opened. The clomping of hooves stopped and all Milo could hear as he rose through the air was the wind howling against his ears. He was free.

  “Wooooooooooooooooo!”

  Vastanon lifted him up, up, up toward the sky along an ever-increasing slope of pure, invisible air. With every downward push of the creature’s enormous white wings, Milo felt himself go higher, until soon the trees and the farms were no more than hard little toys on a miniature landscape that someone had painted with a fine brush.

  The air was ice-cold. He gulped it down, felt it cool the inner walls of his throat and lungs. His stomach quivered and his legs hurt from gripping the harness. He tried to relax. From this elevation he could see the ocean, dark blue in the daylight, curve along the horizon. To his right, a cloud bank descended like a fluffy white elevator as Vastanon pulled him ever upward.

  “To the sea!”

  Vastanon turned toward the ocean. Despite his exhilaration, Milo found himself wondering if the levathon had actually understood him. He had read somewhere that levathons had been created by the gods to be ridden in battle, that sometimes a rider and his levathon formed a special bond that was almost telepathic in nature. No one really understood how it worked—only that it took a lot of time to master.

  “Can you understand me?” Milo said aloud, looking down at Vastanon’s rippling, flaming white hair.

  Vastanon shook his head from side to side. It had to be a coincidence. There was no way the creature understood. And then Milo remembered something else he’d read.


  A demigod’s natural mount is the levathon, and he can command it as he sees fit.

  Soon Milo and Vastanon were flying northward along the coast. The sand was so white it seemed to sparkle, the ocean so big and still that it was like a sheet of deep-blue glass covering the world. He felt he could land on it if he wanted. Enormous ships sailed in the distance, straddling the horizon, looking as though they were up against a curved edge at the very end of the earth and could fall off at any moment. Being up here was like a dream from which he didn’t want to wake.

  Then reality set in. He had forgotten to use the bathroom like he always did first thing in the morning. The urge to urinate was so great that he was going to have an accident if he didn’t do something about it, quick.

  “OK,” he said, leaning forward to speak in Vastanon’s ear. “If you can understand me, I really need to pee. We have to go back.”

  Vastanon changed course, putting the ocean behind them. They sailed toward the mountains. The levathon banked to the left again and now the mountains were on their right. Milo could see the ranch, tiny and red in the distance, surrounded by forest, as he and Vastanon shot toward it.

  “Faster, faster!”

  Vastanon’s wings beat faster until they were almost there. The levathon tilted its wings forward, bringing him and Milo into a downward glide toward the forest. Milo thought they would miss the ranch entirely until he realized that Vastanon was simply flying in a wide curve. The ranch and the trees became life-sized again as Vastanon glided a few feet over the grass.

  The levathon landed with a loud clomping of hooves. Milo could smell grass and trees. Ascher and the orphans were tiny figures in the distance. They grew as Vastanon sprinted toward them.

  They came to a trot alongside Ascher. Milo’s face burned from the sudden loss of wind. Everything was quiet now. His mouth and his eyes were dry. He reached up to his scalp and felt that his hair was spiky and tangled. He must look ridiculous with his face bright red and his hair all over the place.

  Ascher approached, arms raised, to free Milo from the harness. When the last strap came undone, he lifted Milo and set him down on the ground. Walking felt like a new thing and Milo stumbled around for a bit before regaining his balance.