Bran Hambric: The Farfield Curse

by Kaleb Nation

"Oh, the menace," Polland said, scooting back.

  Ginolde was a very large crow with sleek black wings that had tints of purple. However, there was one very unusual feature to her.

  "Her beak looks like it’s made of gold," Bran said with amazement.

  "That’s because it is," Adi replied, rising from the floor. "I usually keep her locked in my office and let her out through the window. She escaped when I was coming back from upstairs."

  "Upstairs?" Bran noticed. He thought they were already there.

  Adi gave a small smile. "I’ll show you up," she said, turning for the side doorway. Bran started to follow her, and Polland was right next to him, still holding onto his hat and watching the bird closely. They passed through into another room, very similar to the first, though stuffed to the walls with more furniture. Because of all the bookshelves dominating each wall and the piles of papers and unsorted novels on the floor and desk, Adi’s office appeared to be a bit stuffed. To the left, there was a very large window with the curtains drawn back, showing the falling rain outside.

  "Very nice office," Bran observed. "I thought—"

  "We’re not there quite yet," Adi cut him off. She continued to the bookshelf at the far end, as if she was about to take a book down, and slid her hand along the edges until her fingers stopped behind the trim. She turned her wrist, and Bran heard a creak from the bookshelf. She pulled back, and an entire section of the shelf swung out in front of his eyes.

  Bran was speechless. There was a tiny set of red, carpeted stairs going off to the left of the room behind the wall. When Adi saw the surprise on his face, she smiled with pride.

  "And here, Bran," she said, "is yet another secret of my house."

  "Stairs!" Bran said. "Where do they go to?"

  A mysterious gleam came into her eyes.

  "To my private office," she said, and she turned around and started up the steps.

  Chapter 21

  A Room behind the Bookshelf

  Cold air came From behind the door. Bran was only a bit hesitant when he came to the entrance, and he looked into the small space. It had barely enough room to walk standing straight, and looked almost like a stairway in a large dollhouse. Bran was not one for tight spaces, but he forced himself to start upward.

  "This is incredible!" he breathed out softly.

  "The owners before me had it put in this way," Adi said, pushing open the door ahead of him. "The instant they showed it to me, I knew I had to have this house."

  "I wish I had a secret room," Bran said.

  Adi opened the door to reveal a very large room, the entire attic of the house all in one place, with the roof as the ceiling and the edges sloping into tight corners as the boards met the floor. It was quite the opposite of the Wilomas’ attic: hardly any junk around, save for a few spare boxes in one corner and a rack off to the side with clothes hanging on it. Straight ahead, there was another thick, wooden desk with a lamp, computer, and telephone on it, and a small bookshelf behind. Three small couches were around a short coffee table in the middle of the room, and two dark windows with closed blinds were behind the desk. The floor had the same red carpet as in the stairway, and around the walls, going across the entire perimeter of the room, was a thin line of cobalt blue tape.

  "Mind clearing the way?" Polland coughed.

  Bran stepped forward quickly. When Adi reached the desk, she turned back to him.

  "This, Bran," she said, "is my real office."

  She pointed to the television.

  "That’s how I keep up with the news," she said. "I watch Channel Zero, the Mages Entertainment Channel."

  She pointed to a black box next to her computer.

  "That’s my modem," she said. "It connects my computer to the Mages Network. On the table there," she said, pointing to a strange, gun-like object, "is a wittscounter, for measuring your witts."

  "Witts are a way of measuring magic power," Polland explained, "There are all sorts of laws about how many witts you can use and where you can use them."

  "There are strict laws regarding magic, even outside of Dunce," Adi explained. "You can’t use any magic that’ll go above two hundred in urban areas. The more witts, the more power, and the bigger magic."

  "So it’s like a speed limit," Bran thought out loud.

  "Yes," Adi said, nodding. "On the scale of witts, you’re bright or dim: if you’ve got a lot of power in you, people might say that you’re with the brightwitts."

  "And those with hardly any or none at all," Polland commented, "are known as dimwitts."

  "So most people like me should be somewhere in the middle, right?" Bran asked.

  Very quickly, something passed over Adi’s face: a strange shadow that seemed to darken her features, and Bran saw a sadness pass into her eyes, a hurt look that he didn’t understand.

  What did I say? he wondered. He remembered when Adi had looked the same way, in the car, when he had been talking to her. He didn’t know what the matter was, but she just turned toward her computer. Bran decided not to press the subject and started to walk around the room.

  "What’s the line of blue tape on the wall for?" Bran asked Polland, speaking quietly so he wouldn’t interrupt Adi.

  "That means the room is warded," Polland explained. "A powerful magic has been put on it, so any magic done here cannot escape the room. The Magic Investigational Police use it in mage prisons, so people who get caught abusing magic can’t do any more harm. For the worst of magic abuses, though, some people are turned into faylen, trapped in the form of an animal, like a rat or a snake, for years…sometimes for the rest of their lives."

  "Are they locked up like that?" Bran said.

  "Well, they can’t do much harm in that condition, can they?" Polland replied. "No, they usually roam the world, scratching for their own food, though you can be sure they come back the day their sentence is up so they can be freed…if they aren’t roadkill by then."

  It was quite a thought, and one that didn’t sit well with Bran, especially thinking about magic criminals. He began to inspect the attic again to distract himself. As he looked around the room, he spotted a strange thing sitting in the corner, all alone and very still…like a small birdcage with a black blanket over it, so he couldn’t see anything inside. He stepped toward it, but the blanket was thick, and he wasn’t able to see through. He reached out to touch the cloth, just to lift it up a bit.

  He lifted the corner slightly, but accidentally brushed it too hard, and before he could react, the cage teetered toward him and toppled over. It hit him and fell to the floor with a crash. He gasped and jumped against the wall, and Adi gasped also, leaping up from her chair. The base and the lid of the cage fell apart into two pieces.

  "Sorry!" Bran said quickly, his hands frozen in front of him. But then, a very strange thing happened, as something slipped out of the cage; a hive of floating flashes of light, rushing onto the floor like ants, taking flight and moving into the air. Bran slid away as they started swarming and swirling in circles. They just seemed to be floating wisps of light. Some of them shot toward him in the air, and he tried to brush them off.

  Bran heard Adi laughing, and he looked up at her with surprise, and she smiled at his reaction.

  "What’s this?" he asked her, looking down at the open cage. They hovered lazily in the air, coming toward him and Adi and different places in the room.

  "Just let them move around you, Bran," she said. "Look, they don’t hurt; they’re all over me."

  They were hovering on her face and going down her neck. Bran hesitated but finally stopped brushing them off, and they drifted toward him as if he were a magnet gently pulling them closer. The only thing he felt was cold air all over him, and when he reached to touch one, it slipped through his fingers. They made ripples through Adi’s hair, and when Bran

  looked at Polland, he saw there were many around him too, and he was trying to swat them with his hand.

  "What are these?" Bran asked.

  "They’re
Winx," Adi said, looking at him.

  "A whole stinking drove of them," Polland grumbled. "An entire forty Winx."

  "I’ve got to have forty," Adi told Polland. "If I have more or less, they’ll all die."

  Polland blew one off of his nose.

  "Why are they going around us like that?" Bran asked.

  "They feed off magical auras," she said softly. "They go to the strongest sources of magic in a room and stay there."

  "Like a moth, to a bright light," Bran said.

  "Right," Adi said. She reached to her desk and picked something up. It was a long and slender rod and looked to be only a few inches more than a foot, made of shiny, polished silver that gleamed in the light when she moved it, reflecting onto his face and around the room. It almost seemed to narrow at the far end, on which was a blunted, golden tip; the gold wasn’t shiny and reflective, but dull and misty. The light glinted off it like a sword’s blade, and on the end facing her wrist, Bran saw a small, clear diamond embedded in the handle, where only a bit was sticking out for him to see. There were deep designs on it and small, sweeping molds that seemed to point toward the tip of it. If anything, it looked like a very expensive treasure.

  "This," Adi said, "is the most useful, most precious tool of a mage. It is a weapon, a shield, a work of art, but most of all, the wand is the symbol of a mage."

  Already, some of the Winx were hovering toward it, as if its very presence held magic. Ginolde swooped by and cawed, perching on the top of Adi’s computer monitor.

  "What do you do with it?" Bran asked. Adi swayed her arm, and the Winx followed the motion of the wand, almost as if it was leaving a glowing blur behind.

  "Plenty of things," Adi said. "For enchantments, if I want to do an Elemental magic, and I’m an Illian, I can get Polland to charge an Archon magic into my wand for me, in case I need it. Or, you can use a wand to focus your magic, to make is stronger and targeted."

  She waved it. "A wand is very dangerous in the hands of someone who isn’t well trained. It might be years before you receive one, but by then, you will be ready. Watch me."

  Adi took a deep breath, and then stepped backward. However, as she did, it was almost as if she hadn’t moved. A duplicate of her was still standing where she had been a moment before, looking ahead just as she had been, so that when Adi stepped from behind her, Bran could not tell which was real and which was the illusion. He was left speechless.

  The Winx, though, shot toward one of the Adis like flies, some even moving away from him to go to her. As they flew toward her, their color changed, fading to the same blue as that of the color for Illian in the books.

  "See?" one of the Adis said regretfully. "The Winx give the real me away."

  They were hovering only around the Adi on the left, and seemed to be ignoring the other.

  "No hiding which one is really you when they’re about,"

  Polland said with a grin. Adi gave a small laugh and then, turning to her duplicate, she shifted her wand, and the other Adi hardened and turned to a dust. The particles fell to the floor but disappeared before they even hit. The Winx stayed around Adi, though not as tightly as before.

  "A simple illusion," Adi said. "But, you saw what the Winx do to magic." She moved for the shelf behind her desk, as the Winx continued to float away from her.

  "Here, Bran," Adi said, setting the thick book where he could see. It had a hard, leathery cover, and was hundreds of pages long. The front had been pressed with an intricate design along the edges, and in the center was a single word: Magic. Below it, far at the bottom, was a name: Wencias Gnarl.

  "This," Adi explained, "is the most used book by mages in the world. It contains histories, knowledge, tips, and magic from the greatest mage of our time, Wencias Gnarl, a recluse whose whereabouts are secret to all save for his publishers."

  She opened the book and let the pages flutter by, so that Bran could see all the words.

  "Unlike the others, which have magics for specific missivs, this book seeks not to separate, but to bring them together. It is a compendium of sorts." She nodded toward it. "Take a look. I want you to pick a magic to try yourself."

  Adi pulled her hands away, encouraging him to page through it. Like he had seen in the bookstore, it was filled with magics, intermingled with sketches and notes. Every page was thin and seemed easy to tear, but the book appeared to be in perfect condition, though it felt as though something so filled with knowledge should be ancient and withered.

  The book was divided into parts, and each cover page was completely black, and in its center was a round stamp of a bird, with its wings forming a circle above its head, just like he had seen on the ones at the bookstore. He saw the strange words again: Lite yirou diyestini lidea yuo, and around the bottom: adni micagi geuida yirou wiya.

  "See those words?" Adi said, following his gaze. "It is written in Alvondir, the ancient language used for all spoken magic: different from magics just done with your mind. It reads ‘Let your destiny lead you, and magic guide your way.’"

  "It is part of a poem by Wencias Gnarl himself," Polland said. "It was chosen as the official code of the Mages Council."

  "There are so many things in there," Bran said. "I don’t know how I will ever learn it all if I’m going to be a mage. It seems like so much."

  "Becoming a mage isn’t like going to school," Adi told him. "It is like an extra muscle that you have been gifted with, something you must exercise, and work at, to become strong in it. Every exercise you learn is your choice. The knowledge of two mages are never alike."

  Bran let his eyes skim down the pages as he soaked it all in. He could have gone on reading it for hours if he had the chance, awash in the newness of it all and enraptured by the doors that it opened before him. He stopped on one at random, because it appeared to be simpler than the rest.

  [6116-A] Electric Fingers—Smeefe

  Pulses electricity on one’s fingers or where directed, power dependant on witts. Does not affect

  the caster, though potentially dangerous to others. Use cautiously.

  Fingers on Hand Up or Out: Curling electric arch around fingers

  ECLECTRI FIRINGE

  "This looks good," Bran pointed. "Though I don’t have a clue what any of it means."

  "Let me explain." Adi ran her finger on it. "First comes the Official Catalog Number, from the Association of Magic Cataloging. That letter A after the dash means this is an Archon magic. Next comes the title, and then the last name of its creator."

  Bran really felt he should have chosen a Netora magic, for it fit his personality better, and he was certain if he tried Archon it would not work for him. However, Adi didn’t even seem to notice, sliding her finger below the description.

  "That is the action you must be doing: in this case, holding your hand with your fingers up or out. Next to it is what you must be thinking as you do the magic."

  "Don’t overlook that part," Polland said importantly. "Your mind is the main factor."

  Adi nodded in agreement. "And the last ones, in bold, are the words you need in Alvondir."

  "That’s not too complicated," Bran said, though inside he wasn’t nearly as sure of himself as he appeared. He brushed a Winx out of his face again.

  "It may be different than what you did with the truck. Consciously this time," Adi said, and he could almost hear a strange eagerness in her voice, "I want you to reach deep in you, deeper than you ever have, and feel the magic. Pull it out, wrap it around your fingers."

  Bran took a deep breath but did what she said, lifting his fingers together as the book had dictated. He felt inside with his mind. He thought he perceived something, a strange power. It was different from anything he had felt before, making him eager to feel the magic against his mind again, as if visiting with someone he had met once before.

  "When you think you’ve got it, say the words," Adi’s voice came. Bran hardly heard her.

  "Eclectri firinge," he whispered. But nothing happened. He opened
his eyes, and none of the Winx had moved, and some even started to drift away, as if bored by just being near him.

  "Reach deeper, Bran," Adi said, not reproachful. "Close your eyes if you must. Pull the magic out like a string, ignite it with the words, and set it all aflame. Think of energy on your fingers."

  Eclectri firinge, Bran repeated in his mind, burning the words into his memory. He tried it again, pulling the power, and it slipped away. He held it stronger, tightening his will around it like a rope that was pulling at his fingers. It felt as if it were slipping from his grasp, but he wrenched it around again.

  "Eclectri firinge!" he said with determination, and it happened. He felt it, even though his eyes were closed, even though his mind was confused, his heart was racing, and his nerves were on edge. He felt it rush out of him, to his hand, going a thousand miles per hour through his body.

  He opened his eyes, and there it was, curling across like a living thing: a great, glowing blueness of energy, rushing on the tips of his fingers like lightening crackling between them.

  And all of a sudden, there was a great rush in the room from all over, like a stick being slung in a circle through the wind.

  Bran heard it and looked up, but before he could react, every single Winx in the room leapt upon him like a giant, glowing beast, and slammed him against the wall.

  Chapter 22

  The Truth

  Bran’s baCK hit the wall, knocking the wind out of his lungs so hard he lost all grip on the magic. The power vanished, but the Winx crawled over his skin, chilling him as they fed off him, up his arms and his neck. They felt so cold that goose bumps rose on his flesh. Their intense glow was like a spotlight in a room of mirrors. "Adi!" he said, not sure what he had done. There wasn’t a spot of Winx on her skin, not a wisp left around her or Polland. But what frightened him more was her face, stricken with panic. "What are they doing?" he asked. Adi did not reply, but moved for the cage, setting it back again and putting something inside. Slowly, the Winx started toward it, and she closed the door behind them. "Like I said, Bran," she said in the deathly silence. "They feed off the most powerful source of magic in the room." "What in the world does that mean, then?" Bran demanded, still shaken. She looked at him. "It means that you are different," she said, setting her hand on the top of the cage. "And it also means you really are the Hambric I feared you were."