Shifters And Glyphs

by Bauer, Christina;

  Avianna nods and scurries away just as everything in my vision turns a singular shade of red.

  When Scar speaks again, her voice takes on a deep resonance. “This child seeks the answer to the riddle of the Shadowvin. Transport through time. Reveal wisdom. Bring joy.”

  An odd warmth fills my veins. The familiar sensation of riding a Ferris wheel takes over my stomach.

  I’m transporting somewhere.

  And I’m accompanied by a powerful soul shepherd I barely know.

  Let’s hope this works.

  Chapter 14

  The next thing I know, I’m standing in an open plaza at night. The air is thick and humid. People are everywhere, all wrapped in the same long, gray cloaks I wore in my dreams. Most have pulled their hoods low over their faces. The full moon casts everything in a bluish glow. The air is thick with heat and moisture. In the distance, I see the forms of three massive pyramids backed by a wall of palm trees and jungle vines.

  I try to focus on where we are in time, but my head feels like it’s full of cotton. I turn to Scar. “Where are we, do you think?”

  “The past, thank magic.”

  My eyes widen. “You weren’t sure?”

  Scar shrugs. “You never know with these kinds of spells. I’ve ended up in some crazy-weird places with six-armed aliens that claim to be someone’s super-great grandkids. Crap like that keeps me from sleeping for days.”

  “Oh.” It’s all I can manage to say. Scar certainly lives an odd life, and I should know. I’ve had quite the bizarre existence myself. “Back to my question. Any guesses as to time frame?”

  “I’d say we’re in South America, about five thousand years ago,” replies Scar. “Based on those pyramids, this is the time of the First Wardens.” She eyes a group of cloaked people walking by. “We’ve probably hit one of their ceremonies for the fountain of magic.”

  “Five thousand years ago.” The words rattle around in my head, but don’t make sense. Maybe it’s the six-armed alien story, but my brain feels like total mush. “Are you sure?”

  “No doubt about it.” Scar gestures toward the horizon line. “Nothing else looks like those three pyramids. I’ve seen them before during other trips to the past.”

  My heart lightens. Even though my head still seems foggy, I remember enough from the Colonel’s story to know that we’ve come to the right place. “The First Wardens were the only ones who could use the fountain correctly. But something went wrong…” I rub my forehead as if the motion will help to stir my memories. “For some reason, I can’t recall why, though.”

  “It’s time travel. Messes with your head at first. Give yourself a few minutes, and you’ll be good as new.” She jiggles her left hand, which is still connected to my right via a thin golden cord. “Just don’t let this break or get untied until you’re ready to return to the present.”

  I nod. “Now that I can remember.”

  Scar inspects the scene. Her eyes hold the golden glow of shifter magic. “Everyone’s wearing the same gray cloak. Based on the way they’re glaring at us, we need to change as well. Time to blend in.” Scar gestures across her face with her open palm. For a moment, the barest hint of gold-colored mist surrounds her skin. Magic.

  When the haze disappears, Scar is wearing the same long gray cloak as everyone else. She looks like she belongs here, but everyone—and I do mean everyone—is still eyeing me from head to toe. All their faces are either scrunched with disapproval or frowning with menace. I blink hard, trying to think through what I can do to fix this. My head feels too messed up to focus.

  Scar turns to me. “We need to get you a gray robe, too.”

  I rub by eyes, trying to think through this news. “How are we going to do that?”

  “This is a bazaar. Someone’s got to be selling robes.”

  I nod slowly, trying to soak everything in. With each passing moment, my thoughts become clearer. Scar is right. The place where we’ve appeared—it isn’t just some random plaza. There are tables set in neat rows, all backed by different vendors. A bazaar. All of a sudden, I feel on much more solid footing. I don’t know much about traveling through time, but I’ve bought stuff from New York street vendors all my life. You can tell a lot about a city by who sells what.

  “Someone around here must sell robes, that’s for sure. But how do pay for them, exactly?”

  Scar winks. “Just watch me do my thing.” She scans the nearby tables and nods toward the far-left side of the plaza. “That direction.”

  It isn’t easy to walk while you’re hand is tied to someone else’s, especially in a crowd where people are constantly pushing to get between you and the person you’re tied to. In short order, Scar and I figure out we need to stand shoulder to shoulder, and that takes care of the worst of the trouble.

  As we step along, I take stock of the faces around me.

  Young.

  Old.

  Every shade of skin.

  Every nationality.

  This place reminds me of being back outside West Lake Prep. I start guessing what someone’s power is by how their body looks under a long, hooded robe … instead of a glamoured-up school uniform. The big linebacker types are easy; those have to be shifters. The slim and graceful folks are probably fae. I figure everyone else is a witch or warlock.

  We almost walk right into someone with orange skin and pointed ears. Definitely fae. I pause, waiting for my wolf to howl that she wants to come out and play.

  But my inner animal is silent.

  I turn to Scar. “I can’t detect my wolf. It’s not even like she’s asleep.” A pang of panic moves through my insides. “She’s completely gone.”

  “No worries,” says Scar. “It’s the first question everyone asks when my powers are active. Whatever I do, it always puts your shifter animal on pause. She’s fine. Don’t sweat it.”

  I force myself to take in a few long breaths. My inner wolf is fine. I just need to focus on getting a gray robe to blend in. As we continue marching through the bazaar, I catch snippets of conversation.

  “This is my fourth visit to the sacred celebration.”

  “Have the First Wardens arrived yet?”

  “What power are you choosing?”

  “Did your magic come from your parents or the fountain?”

  “I join the celebration every year. Never miss it.”

  Each morsel of information is precious. I quickly piece together that you can gain magic either by inheriting it from your parents or having it granted to you from the fountain.

  Scar pauses before a table. A young man with a shock of red hair stands behind it. Based on how he’s tall and lithe, the guy is probably fae. Piles of gray robes cover the tabletop before him.

  “Greetings,” says the guy. “Welcome to my table. Bramblethickskin is my name.”

  I purse my lips. The jury is back, ladies and gentlemen. With a name like Bramblethickskin, he’s definitely fae. He also has a hundred percent chance of having Rumpelstiltskin as his fairy-tale life template. Just saying.

  Bram gestures across the table before him. “You looking for a gray robe for this petitioner?” He hitches his thumb at me.

  “That’s right,” I say.

  “Forty pieces of gold,” says Bram.

  “You don’t want to charge us anything,” counters Scar. “This petitioner has traveled through the mists of time to reach this ceremony. You should give her the robe for free.” Her eyes have taken on that golden glow. She’s definitely planning another spell.

  “How fascinating.” Bram rolls his eyes. “Eighty pieces of gold.”

  Scar swipes her free hand across her face. A thin layer of golden mist surrounds her body. When the haze vanishes, Scar appears to be an elderly woman with a shock of red hair and tons of laugh lines. “You should be ashamed of yourself, Bramblethickskin. Did I raise you to be like every other fae in the forest? Selling goods at the sacred ceremony is an honor. Worthy petitioners should never be charged.”

 
All the color seeps from Bram’s face. “Mother?”

  “Who else?” asks Scar/Bram’s mother.

  “But you passed away.”

  Scar/Bram’s mother rolls her eyes. “What do I always tell you?”

  “Good fae never truly die.”

  “That’s right.”

  “I’m so sorry.” Bram picks up a robe and shoves it in my direction. “Take it.”

  I scoop the garment from Bram’s hands as Scar wags a bony finger at his face. “Remember your true path. Do not follow gold.”

  With that, she turns and walks away. It’s a dramatic exit, but I wasn’t prepared for it. The tie between our wrists pulls taut and almost yanks my arm from its socket. By the time I catch my balance and walk side by side with Scar, she’s returned to her regular appearance.

  Bram follows us and grabs my hand. “Here, take this, too.” He presses an amulet onto my palm. “You’re clearly Trilorum.”

  I stop, which makes Scar pause as well. She no longer looks like Bram’s mother, but our new fae friend doesn’t seem to notice. “What do you mean?”

  “You’re Trilorum, aren’t you?” Bram lowers his voice. “You’re not the chosen one who can prance around the ceremony with the First Wardens. You might get picked up and chopped up for spells. Take the amulet. It will help.”

  I look down at my palm. A small amber stone hangs on a silver chain. “Thank you.”

  “Don’t get too attached to it,” mumbles Scar under her breath. “Anything you get here disappears in the present.”

  I nod once. “Got it.”

  “And you,” Bram steps closer to Scar. “You’re a soul shepherd, aren’t you?”

  Scar frowns. “Don’t say that so loudly.”

  Bram presses something into her palm as well. “This is a ring of protection. It will hide you from the Shadowvin.”

  “Shadowvin?” asks Scar.

  “Surely you’ve heard of them. Slythe and Tithe. They’re supernatural creatures who have been killing off everyone, Magicorum and human alike. No one is safe. Well, not until the First Wardens fix things. They’re going to make everything right tonight.” He shakes his head. “I’m talking too much. I do that when I’m nervous. Just take the ring. I appreciate what you did for me.” His overlarge eyes glisten with held-in tears. “I never thought I’d see my mother again.”

  Scar slips the ring onto her thumb. “Thank you.”

  “You’re so welcome,” says Bram quickly. “Now, I have to get back to my table. Farewell!” Turning on his heel, Bram runs off into the night.

  “That was intense.” Scar rounds on me. “You know anything about these Shadowvin?”

  “Unfortunately, yes. They’re as evil as Bram says, but they haven’t been around for thousands of …” I stop in my tracks.

  “What?” asks Scar.

  “Colonel Mallory told me that the First Wardens wanted to destroy the fountain of magic, the Shadowvin, and the Void, but they failed. Everything blew up instead. The First Wardens injured magic and the Void, but they didn’t destroy it.” I rub my neck, thinking things through. “Do you think we’ve traveled to that ceremony?”

  “Meaning the one where the First Wardens try to blow up both the fountain of magic and the Void?”

  “That’s what I mean.”

  Scar bobs her head from side to side. “It’s likely.”

  I can’t believe this girl. “We’re about to witness magic and the Void almost be destroyed, and your reaction is ‘it’s likely?’”

  “Just keep that in mind for the times I do lose it. Then you know we’re in deep.” We turn down a deserted aisle, and Scar holds out her hand. “The robe, if you don’t mind.”

  “Wait a second,” I say. “There’s something else about Bram that sticks out to me. Did his fae mother want her child to actually be kind to humans?”

  “That’s right.”

  “It’s just strange. The fae are unpredictable and evil.”

  Scar sniffs. “I’ve done this time travel thing for years. You never know what special circumstances are going around right now. Just go with it, that’s my advice.” She twiddles her fingers. “And hand over the robe.”

  “Sure.” As I pass the garment over, I picture Scar’s transformation into Bram’s mother. “That was amazing, by the way. How did you do that?”

  “What part?”

  “All of it, I suppose.”

  “In that moment, magic wanted Bram to get his life on track. It’s like a dance. Magic moves, and I respond.”

  “It tells you what to do?”

  “Hell, no. That would make me a seer. The things is, not everything you want to know guides you soul. Besides, why would magic make anything easy? I just get a vibe and run with it. That’s my gift in a nutshell.”

  Scar pulls a dagger from a holster on her leg and cuts open one side of my robe, from wrist to hem. “There.” She hands the garment back to me. “Now, you can just pull it over your head without having to break the tie between us.”

  I take the robe back. It’s light fabric, the kind elves are known for. With careful movements, I pull it over my head. The robe covers me perfectly.

  Scar resets the dagger into its holster. “Ready?”

  Now, I’m tempted to ask for more detail about Scar’s powers. After all, I rarely meet someone with unusual gifts like me. But at that moment, a cry echoes over the bazaar.

  “The First Wardens have arrived!”

  “Hurry, get to the pyramids!”

  Scar and I share a look. There’s no need to say anything else.

  We take off for the pyramids at a run.

  It takes an hour of jostling through the crowd, but soon, Scar and I make our way to the edge of the pyramids. They’re situated on a triangular plaza lined with more triangle-shaped stones. A low stone wall encircles the place, keeping all us petitioners outside. At each corner stands a small pyramid. The structures aren’t as big as the ones from Egypt—maybe twelve feet tall—but what they lack in height, they more than make up for in terms of the intricate carvings on their surface.

  My eyes widen. The Book of Isis uses special glyphs that share some things with Ancient Egyptian hieroglyphs, but not a ton. These pyramids are covered in the exact same glyphs. Sure, they’re carved in an Aztec style with lots of looping lines and intricate images. Still, it’s the same set of glyphs.

  “Can you read that?” asks Scar.

  “Yes, can you?”

  “Nope, I only understand the spoken word when I go back in time. What does it say?”

  Thankfully, the moonlight is pretty bright here, so it’s no trouble to translate. “The first pyramid talks about the fountain of magic and how it spouts magic into the air, just like a geyser.”

  Scar lifts her brows. “Does it actually say geyser?”

  “The glyph is a little weird. It can mean geyser, fountain, or figure.”

  Scar purses her lips. “That’s pretty broad.”

  I gesture to a spot in the center of the plaza. “One guess what that is.”

  Scar follows my point. Everyone is staying behind the low wall—and the center of the plaza is deserted—so it’s clear to see what sits in the middle of the grounds. There, a colorful mound of rock juts up from the tiled floor. In some ways, it looks just like the carving I found in the sandbox: a conical structure that has drips of red, silver, and gold along the sides. In other ways, the stone looks very different in real life. It’s a bit wider, more like a basin than a cone. Even so, there’s no mistaking what it is.

  “That’s the fountain of magic,” I say.

  “Sure looks like it,” says Scar. Her tone is the definition of unconvinced.

  Now it’s my turn to raise my brows. “But?”

  “It’s like I said before. The past is unexpected. We come to it with assumptions we don’t even realize. Trust me, until that thing spouts multicolored power, we should call it a geyser.”

  “Fine,” I counter. “Geyser, it is.” That’s what I s
ay, but I’m thinking, You’re totally wrong about this. I’ve spent countless hours studying fountains. That geyser is the exact same thing as the fountain of magic, no question.

  A perfect hush rolls over the crowd. Four figures step onto the plaza. All of them wear long robes, just like the rest of us, only theirs are red, silver, gold, and white.

  Wait a second. White?

  That’s a color I associate with the Void. Then, I remember what Bram said. The First Wardens bring one member of the Trilorum into the ceremony with them. That seems strange.

  The warden with the silver cloak raises her arms, exposing her blue skin. She’s definitely fae. “Welcome, petitioners. I’m the first warden of fae magic.”

  Behind me, the petitioners whisper among themselves.

  “That’s her … the great Quetzali.”

  “She’s the one who created all this.”

  “She’ll destroy the Shadowvin, I know it.”

  Quetzali raises her right arm, and the crowd silences. “Tonight,” she says. “I stand before you with the first warden of witches and warlocks.” She gestures to the figure in a red cloak.

  As Quetzali introduces the second warden, there’s no chatter from the crowd. Clearly, Quetzali is the people’s favorite.

  “Also with me is the first warden of shifters.” This time, Quetzali points to the figure in the golden cloak. Again, no commentary from the crowd. This is definitely The Quetzali Show.

  I can’t help but smile. So far, all this is going just as I’d expected. There are three wardens before me, one for each kind of magic. Sure, there’s another figure here in white, but maybe they keep a Trilorum around as a guard or something. And we’re on a plaza with three pyramids and a geyser-fountain. Excitement speeds my blood. This is happening. The answers are close.

  And once I find the fountain and its magic, I’ll discover some way to protect my friends and cure Knox. I know it.

  Quetzali continues. “Tonight, I welcome you to our annual sacred ceremony. Whether you’re Magicorum or regular human, this ceremony has helped countless others just like you. Even if you don’t wish for magical powers, attending this ritual can bring back your youth and beauty.”