Emma gasped and drew back from the window. Sevarin was flying the horse across the field with no harness, one of the perks of being a Sargonaut—a fall wouldn’t hurt him at all. She put herself in his position and could almost feel the cool air on her skin and hear the wind blowing in her ears. To fly like that, as if it were nothing at all…
Emma went back to packing her things. She didn’t feel like doing it, but the mundane nature of the task put her mind at ease. She’d been thinking too much lately about what would happen to her and Milo and the other orphans once they left the ranch. Would they get split up? Would they really be safer in a city than out here on the coast? Would she and Lily still be roommates?
She was on her knees folding shirts when a knock came at the door.
“It’s me,” Lily said.
“You don’t have to knock,” Emma said, laughing a little. “Come on in.”
Lily opened the door, but not all the way. She poked her head in, saw Emma, and darted back into the hallway.
“She’s decent,” Lily said.
Emma sprang to her feet and stepped back toward the window. Some nameless fear caused her to bring a hand up to her mouth. She knew it wasn’t Milo because Milo would have knocked and said, “It’s me,” or “Are you in there?” And it wasn’t Ascher—he would have knocked and said, “Emma? It’s Ascher. Can I come in?” Emma knew everyone’s knock and voice, so the person standing outside her door was someone who had never called on her before.
“Thanks.”
A boy’s voice.
Sevarin stepped into her bedroom, closed the door with an easy swipe, and stood there looking at her. His eyes roamed across her face and body, making her feel small and vulnerable. There was something about his broad shoulders and muscular arms that made the room seem smaller than usual.
“Hey there,” he said, his eyes flicking downward. The gesture, slight as it had been, showed Emma that there was no reason to be timid. Sevarin was the vulnerable one—at least here in her bedroom.
“Hi, Sevarin.”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “I saw you in the window.”
“What?”
“Earlier, when I was outside with Vastanon. There was a look on your face.”
Emma went back to packing her shirts, ears burning with anticipation. She had a feeling she already knew what he wanted.
“You looked jealous,” he said.
Emma turned and frowned at him. “Jealous? I wasn’t jealous. I was just—impressed. You were being nice to Vastanon for once.”
“Huh! I’m always nice to Vastanon. We’re like best friends!” He walked over to the bed and sat down.
“Did I say you could sit there?” Emma held a shirt in each hand and glowered at him. “I was going to put these down where you’re sitting.”
“I thought you were packing them.”
She dropped the shirts and let out a heavy sigh. “Why did you come here?”
Sevarin abruptly stood up. “Why do you hate me so much?”
“I don’t hate you.”
“Then why are you always mean to me?”
He had squared his shoulders as if to prepare himself for the worst. Emma’s face warmed with a stew of emotions. The word mean rang in her head. Mean, mean, mean. Was she really that bad?
“It’s because you’re arrogant. You think you’re so much better than everyone else just because you’re the only Sargonaut. You think your muscles make you King of the Ranch.”
He stepped toward her. She drew back.
“I’m not always like that,” he said.
“Well, did something make you that way?”
A pained look flashed across his face. He was silent.
“What happened to you?” She had softened her voice. See? She wasn’t so mean. “Something happened to you when you a were a child. What was it?”
He turned away. “Don’t look at me like that.”
“Why are you here, Sev?”
He closed his eyes. “I had a brother once. He was like a mentor to me. He’s also the reason I’ll never go near a needle or a gun.”
Emma kept silent and waited for more.
“You know what? I didn’t come here to cry on your shoulder,” he said.
“Then why did you come here?”
“I wanted to take you on a ride. Put your gloves, boots, and jacket on. Come on—and don’t say no.”
She swallowed. “Where?”
He leaned in and spoke in a whisper that made a shiver creep down her back.
“To the skies.”
Chapter 50
The beacon crystal burned, but Milo ignored it.
When he reached the grove of trees, the spell over him broke and he could think clearly again. What was he doing here? Why had he walked all this way in his skates? The smart thing to do would be to turn back and inform Ascher of what he had seen. Then one of Ascher’s men could scour the forest and catch this mysterious intruder.
But Milo didn’t want that yet. His curiosity was too strong. This man—who had disappeared, by the looks of it—was most likely the magician that had been stalking the ranch, and Milo didn’t want to miss the opportunity to get some answers. Plus, he didn’t think the magician would hurt him. It was his advice, after all, that had led Milo, Emma, and Ascher to retrieve the beacon crystal. And the man was certainly powerful enough that if he had wanted to cause the orphans harm, he would have done so by now.
Milo took a steadying breath and went deeper into the forest, trying not to trip as he was still wearing ice skates. He saw nothing but tree trunks and snow. The beacon crystal shivered in his pocket.
“Milo Banks.”
Right next to him—a man.
Milo whipped his head around as he fell. He landed on his back in the snow, hands up in front of his face as if to defend himself against an attack. But no one was there.
The air shimmered a few feet away from him. A man, blurry at first, like a figure seen behind a foggy pane of glass, began to solidify. He wore black gloves, a gray suit with a collar that rose a few inches around his neck, and a gray overcoat. His oiled hair gleamed in the murky daylight, which was not even strong enough to paint shadows around them. His glasses were two black circles over his eyes—John Lennon sunglasses, Milo thought—which would explain why his eyes had looked like holes before.
“Don’t be afraid,” he said. His voice was polished, articulate—the voice of a highly educated soldier.
“I’m—I’m not,” Milo said, climbing out of the snow and standing up.
The crystal was hot enough to hurt. Milo reached in and pulled it out. It was so hot that he had to fling it away for relief.
The magician reached down—with a very human grunt—and dug it out of the snow.
“Don’t underestimate the power of these crystals. It warns you whenever a more powerful magic-user is nearby, especially if that user is a sorcerer. You understand the difference between a magician and a sorcerer, right?”
“A sorcerer draws power from within,” Milo said, remembering something he’d read in a textbook on magic, “and uses it to command the elements and reshape his surroundings. A magician draws power from his surroundings and uses it to reshape himself.”
“Very good,” the man said, nodding. “That definition’s a bit dated, but not bad.”
He handed Milo the crystal. It cooled off as soon as Milo touched it. He saw that the magician had recharged it to full capacity.
“So, you’re a magician,” Milo said.
“Actually”—the man smiled a little behind his glasses—“I’m a physicist. Magic is more of a hobby. I guess you could say it’s more of an offshoot. Anyway, I’m here to help. My intuition tells me you already know that, though.”
Milo nodded. “I know I can trust you, but not why. I just feel it.”
“That’s because we’re family.”
The man took off his sunglasses and blinked several times against the light. Milo’s face slackened in disb
elief.
They were his father’s eyes.
“My name is Emmanuel Banks,” he said, “and Maximus was my younger brother. I’m here to teach you a thing or two about magic, if you’re ready for it.”
Milo’s breath poured out of his lungs. He wobbled on his skates and almost toppled over. He wished he had brought his boots with him. The man reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder to steady him.
“Emmanuel,” Milo said, gazing up at the man’s clear blue eyes. “My sister was named after you.”
His uncle nodded.
“That’s right,” he said. He opened his coat, reached down by his belt, and pulled out two strips of shiny material with rubber soles.
“Here,” he said, tossing over the boots. Milo caught them. “Before I explain what’s going on, let’s do something about those skates.”
Chapter 51
Emma was flying, and yet the only thought in her mind was of how uncomfortable the harness felt against her bottom.
But still—she was flying!
The world was a pure white all around her and the mountains to the west were like the tips of glaciers. It was all so beautiful and majestic. The luminether mist pouring from Vastanon’s body warmed her and made it feel like spring.
But her butt was killing her! She had her arms around Sevarin’s waist and the side of her face pressed against his shoulder blades. He wore a thin sweater and no gloves, and she imagined the cold didn’t hurt him as much as it would a regular person. They were sitting on a harness this time, though she knew Sevarin preferred to ride the levathon bareback. He had suggested the harness to keep her strapped in, but the straps had been too tight. She had loosened them a bit so she could breathe. No big deal.
Sevarin made a shrill whooping sound.
“Fly, Vastanon!”
Emma tightened her grip on him, surprised at how tough he felt. It was like hugging a tree. Vastanon whinnied. Misty air slid over Emma’s face like ice cream, and it was wonderful.
“Faster,” she said.
“What?”
“Faster, go faster!”
“A’right! Hold on!”
Emma held on for dear life. Even with the harness, which included a seatbelt that went around her waist, she felt that she could fall at any moment. She looked down at the seatbelt just to make sure it was secure—and then she saw that it wasn’t. It flapped at her side. She had pulled the pin out of the hole in the leather, which was really stupid.
And yet, with her arms around Sevarin, she felt like nothing could separate them.
She looked to her right and saw clouds beyond Vastanon’s wing, piled on top of each other like scoops of vanilla ice cream someone had served the gods for dessert.
“I want to be in the clouds,” she said into Sevarin’s ear.
She was so close to the boy that she could see his glistening scalp beneath the short, tight curls of his hair. He smelled fresh, like he’d recently showered. She wished they were face to face so she could look into his soft, brown eyes while the sky stretched to infinity around them.
“Do you want to see the clouds, babe?”
“No,” she said. “I want to be in them.”
“I can do that.”
“But be careful, Sevarin.”
His shoulders shifted as he pulled the reins. The levathon tilted, and instead of going straight they veered to the right, toward three scoops of vanilla cloud piled on top of each other.
Vastanon whinnied, Sevarin whooped, and Emma squealed as the three of them dove in and coursed through the misty air. She saw only whiteness. She felt only the lightness of water particles hanging in the air.
“Thank you, Sevarin.”
He reached back with his left hand. She pulled her own hand free and reached up and slipped her hand into his. Sevarin gave it a gentle squeeze. His fingers felt strong enough to crush stone.
This was the life she wanted, to fly through the skies whenever she felt like it—to be as free and light as a bird.
A ripping, grinding pain shattered the moment.
It felt as though someone had slashed vertical lines on either side of her spine with a freezing cold knife. She could picture the blood streaming out of her like red ribbons trailing in the wind.
She fell screaming from the harness, and the last thing she saw was Sevarin reaching down for her, his mouth an O of surprise, before the whiteness swallowed him up.
Chapter 52
“You’re going to have to be here for a year, at least,” Emmanuel said.
He and Milo were sitting across from each other on large rocks that Emmanuel, using magic, had swept clean of snow and water. It had taken a single, brushing motion of one hand to clean them off without even touching them. Afterward, he had smiled at Milo.
“With enough practice, you could lift those rocks out of the ground and mold them into a chair.”
A strong wind swept through the forest, adding to the mystery of the moment and causing snow to drip like frosting from the leaves. Milo could barely breathe, so thick was his excitement. He was going to learn magic—for real this time.
Then his uncle’s words sank in, and he shot up off the rock.
“A whole year? But what about Emma? And my mother?”
Emmanuel motioned for Milo to sit back down. The snow flashed in his glasses.
“Are you familiar with time dilation?”
Milo gave a slow nod. “It’s a spell that can warp the fabric of space-time, making a small portion of the world age at a different speed than the rest. Only the most powerful magicians know how to do it.” He gave his uncle a look of suspicion. “You wouldn’t be able to keep a spell like that going for more than a few hours.”
Emmanuel lifted both arms and grinned. “I’ve always suspected Ascher ran the best school on Taradyn. Now I know it’s true.” He adjusted his glasses and lost the smile. “I keep the spell going using time-dilation engines—machines that split luminether atoms, sort of like a nuclear reactor. All I have to do is recast the spell every few weeks to keep it accurate.”
Milo sat back down. “Where are these machines? In the forest?”
“No. Beneath it.” He motioned for Milo to get up and follow him. “Where we’re going—if you agree to come with me, that is—years can go by in a matter of hours here on the surface. That means that when you get back to the ranch, you’ll be a year older than you were this morning. Everyone else will be the same. Do you understand how this could be painful for you?”
Milo looked back at the ranch. “I think so. I’ll have to spend the next year away from Emma, and certain other people.”
He thought of Lily.
“That’s right,” his uncle said. “They won’t even notice you’ve been gone. The pain of missing them will be your burden alone.”
“But wait,” Milo said. “A time dilation spell can only be cast on something small and contained, like a spaceship or a building. And it has to be kept sealed, so…”
Emmanuel raised a gloved hand. With a quick flick of his fingers he was able to make the ground shake. Was it a quake spell? No—only sorcerers could cast that.
Milo staggered a bit and had to loosen his knees to keep his balance. At first, he thought the whole forest was shaking. Then he saw that it was only he and his uncle and the patch of ground on which they were standing.
“We’d better step off,” Emmanuel said.
They stepped off the platform, which by then was a foot higher than the rest of the ground and steadily rising. Milo watched in silence. After a few minutes it stopped, and he saw that it was not a platform but a cage-like elevator wide enough for a carriage and a team of horses.
“Let’s go,” his uncle said, waving Milo along.
Milo stepped in, and his feet thrummed against the metal floor. The walls felt icy and wet, and Milo wished he hadn’t left his gloves on the pond. The elevator as a whole felt sturdy enough, but he had never liked elevators to begin with.
“I don’t know abo
ut this,” he said.
His uncle looked at him, a small turning of his head, like a robot spotting a moving insect on the ground. There was something about the way the man moved, as if he had trained his body to be perfectly efficient in every motion.
“You can come with me or you can step off,” his uncle said. “My way, you learn magic. The other way, you spend your life in hiding, hoping the bad men never find you.”
Milo remained where he stood. “Where will this take us?”
Emmanuel pulled back the sleeve of his left arm and checked a gold watch strapped to his wrist. “I call it the Vault,” he said, letting the sleeve fall back. “It used to be a rebel base, back when your mother and father were still leading the Forge. We’ll be just in time for dinner.”
The elevator descended much faster than Milo had expected. His insides rose, giving him that pleasant feeling one gets on a rollercoaster when the carts are speeding toward the ground.
It was dark inside. The only light came from rows of tiny yellow bulbs along the floor’s edges. The grainy, mineral smell of rocks and soil filled the elevators as they descended past layers of buried earth.
Emmanuel stood like a pillar and didn’t speak once during the ride. Milo got the impression that his uncle was given to long silences, which suited Milo just fine. If they were going to be together for a year, they would have plenty of time to get to know each other. But still—he wished his uncle would say at least a few words to make him feel more comfortable.
A metallic whine pierced the air as the elevator slowed to a stop. Milo’s stomach settled back into place. The walls around them were dark, but only for a moment longer as a door yawned open and light flooded the elevator. Milo had to shield his eyes. A brilliant corridor stretched before him.
He stepped out of the elevator and stared in silent wonder at his surroundings. The corridor was not only sparkling clean but there were signs on the walls pointing to the different places one could visit: the Infirmary, Nectarwine Cafeteria, the Eternal Gardens, the Bath House, the General Store, Astros Lounge, and various others. There were four floors, according to one of the signs, each accessible by elevator or stairs.
Savant (The Luminether Series) Page 29
