Dixon

by Sarah J. Stone

  “I should go,” she said. “She's threatened by me, Nathaniel. And I would have felt the same, all those years ago.”

  “No…” Nathaniel replied, but she was already leaving. It was the turning point in his life, in his path. The moment one Tiro walked away and another one stepped up to join him.

  He realized that, despite being so different in so many ways, they were finally normal. Every Maestro and Tiro pair had gone through this moment, and they had lived to see the other side. At long last, they were walking the same path as everyone else.

  “I'll see you around,” Sienna said, and headed down the hallway.

  Nathaniel turned back to Prada, who had watched her go. Her dark eyes were still trained on anything but Nathaniel, and her hands were now behind her back. She drew one hand out and signed something. Nathaniel's eyes widened.

  What a time for Sienna to leave, he thought. She could understand sign language.

  He grabbed a notepad from the side table, and handed it to Prada, who scribbled something quickly.

  We are not bonded. This is not natural.

  “Oh,” he said, looking at the words. “No. But…the Jurors do know best.”

  You are not bonded with her, either.

  “No,” he replied. “Not anymore. I was, but she was very sick and we had to…stop. I wasn't bonded with her at the start, either. It grew, over time. As I imagine it will for you and I. The Jurors have chosen us to train together.”

  Prada said nothing to that, and Nathaniel smiled, remembering his first moments with Sienna.

  It had been just as difficult in the start, but now he wouldn't have traded it for anything. If there was a chance of making just as bright of future here and now, he would at least try.

  Besides, Sienna was right. There was no one else, now that Desmond was out of the picture, who could likely handle to issues this poor Tiro had. He knew he could do it and he could build her to be a great witch.

  “We're going to have so many adventures,” he said, holding out his hand. “And one day, this will be you standing here, taking a Tiro of your own and vowing to keep them safe.”

  Prada's eyes flickered at that, and she looked down at his out stretched hand. After a long moment, she placed her hand in his for a brief moment, before pulling back.

  Her power was so strong it jolted him, and yet she was more afraid of him than anything else.

  “Why don't we go to the cafeteria?” he asked. “Get some food?”

  That earned him a nod, and he inwardly gave himself a thumbs up. Food was always the solution to any Tiro's heart.

  He knew that it wouldn't be easy. There would be many struggles down the new road they walked, and many days when he'd wonder if he was doing the right thing. But he wanted to serve, and he wanted to fight, and this new chapter would be just what he needed.

  At least, until Eliza said the words and then he would go willingly to her. But she wouldn't, not for years, and he knew that. He loved Eliza because she understood that he was needed where he was, and she would never put that in jeopardy He would do his duty and she would do hers, and they would be happy apart until the day they could be happy together

  Until that day, he had a Tiro to train.

  Chapter 25

  Desmond knew that the dungeons under the school were dark, but he didn't realize they were damp and cold ,as well. He had expected the Jurors to treat their prisoners with respect and with dignity, but he was surprised to learn that wasn't exactly the case.

  It broke his heart to see Reynolds looking pale and thing, sitting on the cold floor of his cell.

  “Desmond,” Reynolds said, with a smirk. He was defiant, even now. “Have you come to gloat? Your happiness is sickening.”

  “I have not,” Desmond said. “Although I have come to inform you of some news.”

  “What? Has the Jurors elevated your defiant ass once again? You always did manage to get away with murder.”

  “I am leaving the Order,” Desmond answered, and Reynolds fell silent. “I have left my Tiro, and I am leaving magic behind. Mariah and I pledged ourselves to each other.”

  “What?” Reynolds couldn't believe what he was hearing. “Are you mad?”

  Desmond had not expected that reaction.

  “No? Maybe?”

  “You can't just… arr,” Reynolds replied. “You just threw away your whole life.”

  “No,” Desmond said. “I walked a path I thought was right for me, until I realized it was right no longer. You feel my happiness because I am now on the right path. There are other ways to be happy, Reynolds, besides magic. Besides darkness or light, the whisk of our hands. And I wanted you to know that.”

  Reynolds fell silent, not expecting this kind of lecture.

  “If there is a glimmer of hope in all of this, Reynolds, I hope that you find it.”

  “Desmond, I walked away from you and from the Order. I used Acheronian magic, I killed hundreds, if not thousands. I was your first Tiro and I screwed everything up for you. And now you come and tell me about hope?”

  “I do,” Desmond replied. “And when the Jurors lay down your verdict for the crimes you have committed, I will be there, beside you, supporting you as I should have done.”

  Reynolds looked at Desmond in disbelief. His mouth gaped open several times before he spoke.

  “And what of the girl?”

  Desmond tried to smile.

  “Sienna has found her own path, as well, outside of magic. If you have diabolical plans, you should know that the drugs have wiped magic from her system. She knows death awaits her if she comes off of them. She is useless to your cause now.”

  “And your brave Nathaniel? Has he surged forward?”

  “Nathaniel has stayed with the Order,” Desmond said. “So you may hear his name from time to time. That is the path he believes is right for him, and I'm not going to stop him.”

  “Of course, he did.” Reynolds shook his head. “So much for different paths”

  “We have each found our own,” Desmond answered. “And I know that you will as well.”

  “Unless they execute me.”

  “They won't,” Desmond assured him. “You are too powerful, too blessed by magic to lose such a force to the world. Try to find a way without it, a way to be happy, and you will find yourself free.”

  “Not from prison bars,” Reynolds replied.

  “No, maybe not,” Desmond answered. “But your mind will be at peace.”

  The two stood in silence for a long moment, and then Reynolds spoke, softly, “You weren't a bad Maestro, Desmond.”

  Desmond was surprised by this.

  “I—”

  “You weren't. It was nothing that you did or said. You were a good Maestro, and it was I that strayed. Don't blame yourself for it. I hope you do find happiness with Mariah.”

  Desmond decided to accept this, bowing his head.

  “Thank you,” he said. “I will leave you now.”

  “Could you…Could you stay?” Reynolds asked, sounding so much like the boy Desmond had trained. “Not for long, I mean…but just a while?”

  Desmond smiled at this, taking a step closer. “I could,” he said. “If you wish it.”

  He settled down in a chair placed outside the cell. The two fell into a natural rhythm of conversation, as if the past few years had never happened. They spoke of their time on quests, of their moments at school, of the people they had known. Desmond felt himself go back twenty years, to a time when Reynolds filled him with hope and when nothing was too big of mountain for them to tackle.

  The path ahead was clear for him, but he knew it was only because of the moments that were difficult that he could walk it. It had taken forty years to get the courage to walk away with Mariah, and it was because his courage had been tested so many times before. He didn't fear what was to come, for everything behind him had been fearful enough.

  And despite having not taken Reynolds through to the tests, he felt he had succeeded wi
th him. For despite the darkness, the past, his former Tiro still had strength within him, and still saw that he could live beyond all of this. He had taught him that. He had taught all of them that. Broken Christa, after the death of her Maestro, Nathaniel in the face of anxiety, Sienna in her daily struggles. And they had taught him patience and hope. They had taught him how to live.

  There was a life beyond the magic, and he was eager to live it.

  Epilogue

  “Did you translate all of those?” Eliza asked in surprise Sienna had only been working for her 10 months, but it seemed that she learned a new language every week.

  The former witch smiled as she handed her the tablet. “I did,” she said. “Some of them may be a bit shaky, but they are fine for the purposes you use. If that's all, my Queen…”

  “It is all,” Eliza replied. “Baroness.”

  Sienna blushed at the rank Eliza had given her. “It's Devon's birthday,” she said. “So we'll be off for the evening?”

  “Of course,” the Queen replied. “It will be a relaxing…”

  Just as she was finishing her sentence, the doors to the palace flew open and Jonah burst in.

  The captain of the guards was normally cool and collected, but at the moment, his eyes were wild.

  “Your highness,” he said. “The rebel forces are marching on us.”

  Eliza's eyes hardened.

  “Then attack. I won their throne here on Natrine. They need to accept that. Teach them a lesson.”

  “No,” Jonah said. “They've had help. There're three outer rim planets that have come to their aid.”

  “What?” Eliza asked. “Who allowed this?”

  “Your highness, they took us by surprise,” Jonah said. “But regardless of semantics, we are currently outnumbered. You need to call Jeffro's forces, but we will need more back-up then that.”

  “This is treason,” Eliza growled. Sienna, however, put a hand on her shoulder, calm.

  “You took the throne,” she said. “The witches defend the thrones at all costs, as natural leaders must be protected.”

  Eliza held her gaze.

  “Will they send us aid?”

  “Yes,” Sienna replied. “I believe they will.”

  “Then call for it,” Eliza said. “Jonah, call the Jeffro forces. As many as we can spare.”

  “My concern, your highness, is that if Jeffro is left half-defenseless, they will storm on there, as well.”

  “No,” Eliza was defiant “We will defend both fronts. Call the witches now, Sienna. Ask for aid.”

  “Aye,” Sienna nearly dropped the tablet and headed out of the large marble hall.

  Devon was waiting just outside the door, expecting her to be finished work. Their life together on Natrine was much different from the rigid life the Order had demanded of them. Eliza was a kind mistress, expecting the work to be done when it was due and not much more. Sienna found herself happy, light and free. With her magic blocked, she was finally able to see what life was beyond the Order. With Devon's hand almost constantly in hers, she thought it was beautiful.

  Today, though, her eyes were wide with panic.

  “I need to call Nathaniel,” she said, as they ducked into a quiet corner. “We're under attack.”

  “Mm,” Devon answered. “Somehow, I knew this day would come.”

  “So did I,” she said. “We'll be flooded with witches in a few days. It's odd, this is the warrior excitement I always wanted. And now that it's here...”

  “Now that it's here, you realize you are happy with your other path,” Devon answered. “Regardless, it will be nice to see our friends. I can call Laura, if you like.”

  “Probably needed,” Sienna said, as she dialed through.

  Nathaniel looked tired when he answered, his lighting dim. She could make out that he was at the school, in his room, and it was early morning. She hadn't thought about the time change.

  “Maestro,” she said. “The day has come.”

  “Oy,” Nathaniel replied, sitting up a bit more. “Do you need us to come now?”

  “I do,” she said. “You and your Tiro. I'm going to put quest bids up. We'll need several teams.”

  “We're ready,” Nathaniel replied. “Prada is stronger than any Tiro here. We will protect you.”

  She remembered the days that he said that about her, and smiled.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  “Just stay safe,” he replied, and she sensed a grin in the darkness.

  “Nathaniel…are you…excited?”

  “I am a warrior after all, little one,” he said, as his tablet jiggled with him getting up. “And you always wanted to see me in action.”

  “I did,” she answered. “I'm going to put a few calls out. Let me know if there's anything else I can do.”

  “Look at us,” he replied. “Working together on intergalactic quests. Did you ever think that would happen again?”

  She smiled.

  “I didn't,” she said. “But we've found a way.”

  “There's always a way,” Nathaniel said, “if you believe. I'll see you soon.”

  “Bye,” she hung up, passing the tablet to Devon to call Laura. Despite the oncoming danger, Devon grinned at her.

  “Well, this is exciting,” he said, as he keyed in Laura's number.

  “It is,” Sienna drew her knees up as she perched on the window seat. “And I'm ready for it.”

  “We're together,” he said. “We're ready for anything. And with you here, we can call in teams in any language. You're magic.”

  His choice of words made her smile. “I didn't use to think I was,” she replied. “Not until you made me feel differently.”

  “So, my love,” he said, as the call began to ring. “Are you ready for a new adventure?”

  “I am,” she said, as Laura picked up. Like everything in life, it wasn't going to be easy. A year ago, she couldn't believe that she ever would have been happy with this reality. But today, with Devon by her side, and her skills sharp and making a different, she felt happy, and strong. It had taken walking away from her once dream, and from magic, to make her feel like she was indestructible

  There was always another path, and she was so glad that she had found it.

  ***THE END***

  Book 5: The Final Leg

  Chapter 1

  "Maestro Nathaniel, to the combat room, Maestro Nathaniel to the combat room quick pace."

  "Oh, Creator." Nathaniel dropped his spoon onto the table, his rapidly cooling food practically smirking at him as he tore out of his room. This was becoming a routine, and not a good one.

  Nathaniel was one of the top witches in the academy, known in his youth for his extreme skill in combat. Witches were the warriors and guardians of the entire galaxy: strong, respected and feared. Most Maestro witches also had Tiros, students who trained with them until adulthood, when they began their own journeys.

  Nathaniel's current Tiro, Prada, was assigned to him because she showed combat potential from a young age, far above her age group. She was stronger than almost him, but her magic was out of control. He knew when he was told to train her that she was the Princess of Powys, the only survivor of a planet that no longer existed. The trauma had caused selected mutism, the terror of such loss constantly waking her. And the anger of getting revenge often led her to blast magic that was unacceptable at school levels.

  He knew that's why he was being called, even as he sprinted down the hall. This had happened before, and frankly, he was getting sick of it.

  "Prada!" he roared as he pulled open the door to the combat room. At fifteen, she was more difficult than ever before. Some Tiros could take the final tests at fifteen, if they started young. Prada seemed to prefer spending her days doing damage to the classroom halls and other Tiros in class, even if she pretended otherwise.

  The roar of her Maestro made her jump. He was the one authority figure in her life she actually respected.

  She turned her eyes dark and stopp
ed her magic. Nathaniel could already see her frightened opponent cowering by the wall, and the damage she had done to the walls in a circle around the room.

  "Nathaniel, your Tiro is out of control," her teacher started, but Nathaniel put his hand up to silence her. He pointed to Prada, snapping his fingers to indicate she should come to his side.

  She stared him down and he growled.

  "Now," he said, and she agreed at last.

  There was no point in trying to make her apologize. Outside of a very select few people, Prada spoke to no one. So, instead, he turned toward the door, withdrawing her from the class with a sigh.

  They were alone in the hallway, classes in session all around them, when he turned to her.

  "He started it," she said, referring to her opponent.

  "I don't care who started it," Nathaniel cried. "You do not use your powers like that. Did you see the damage you did?"

  Prada crossed her arms, looking away, and Nathaniel considered giving her a magical shock. But anger was not a witch trait, it distracted from the magic.

  "Prada, I'm talking to you," he said. She didn't answer, and he shook his head.

  "Fine. You are not fighting in tomorrow's showcase."

  "You can't do that!" she cried.

  "Forget it. I'm not sitting there wondering whether you're going to win or just kill someone," he said. "I better find you in your room in an hour, working on homework."

  "No!" she argued. "I trained for months to—"

  "Silence," he said. "Go."

  Her eyes flashed, but eventually she went. It was only when he was alone in the hallway that he put his head against the wall with a sigh.

  He thought he was prepared for this. After Sienna, he thought he was prepared for anything.

  Sienna had been his first Tiro, and his previous one. In an unprecedented move, he and his former Maestro, Desmond, had both taken on Sienna as a Tiro. She suffered from the locust gene, which meant that her unrivaled power was consumed by her body. Her autoimmune illness meant that anything natural, including magic, attacked itself and nearly killed her. They thought that between the two of them they could find a way to harness her power and make her a great witch.