“I mainly thought it was terrifying,” muttered Tara, still shaken by the vision of the wizard going up in smoke.
“Oh, that was nothing!” remarked Deria casually. “He’s a high wizard and completely fireproof. But those elementals aren’t very intelligent. Too empty-headed.”
“Mmm, also arrogant and conceited . . . serves ’em right,” growled the wizard, who was still quivering with indignation. “Now, let’s review everything that happened here.”
Raising his hand, he said: “By Memorus display the recent past so we can make a plan, and fast.”
Blurry shapes materialized out of nowhere, startling Tara. Before her hovered the ghosts of the monsters that had attacked them! The scene she had lived through a few minutes earlier was being magically replayed. But the images of the monsters attacking Isabella began to flicker and waver, and then disappeared. The wizard tried to get them back, but in vain.
“By Gelisor’s rotten fangs,” he muttered in annoyance, “this spell really isn’t ready for prime time! Tara, you’ll have to describe what happened in detail later, because the Memorus isn’t stable enough. Meanwhile, I’m going to take care of your grandmother.”
Tara was about to answer when they heard a siren in the distance.
“Rats!” exclaimed Deria. “It’s the fire department! They must’ve seen the smoke!”
Tara thought fast.
“Deria, can you summon fire without it being an elemental?”
“Yes, of course. We can always summon ordinary fire. It’s much easier than summoning an elemental. Why?”
“They’ve seen the smoke, so we’re going to have to give them some fire.”
Deria’s eyes widened.
“Gosh, you’re right! Here it goes: ‘By Flamus, give me fire. A lively blaze I now require.’“
A pile of blazing logs immediately appeared on the lawn at a safe distance from the forest and the manor, sending up a column of dark smoke.
“Perfect!” approved Tara. “I’ll let you explain why you built a fire in the middle of our yard at two o’clock in the morning. See you later!”
The wizard had already entered the manor with the bodies. When Tara came in, she saw Tachil and Mangus sitting on the staircase, looking glassy-eyed and holding their heads in their hands.
Mad with joy, she cried, “You’re awake!” which made the two servants grimace and cover their ears.
“What . . . what happened?” groaned Tachil, whose breath was being squeezed out of him by Tara’s energetic hug.
“Deria will explain everything,” said the girl, now kissing a groggy Mangus. “After she finishes with the firefighters, that is. I’m really happy you’re okay. I’m going to see Grandma.”
She left the dazed servants and raced up to Isabella’s bedroom. To her surprise, her grandmother wasn’t there, nor was the wizard. After a moment’s thought she left the room and headed for the basement where, yep, she’d guessed right: he’d taken her down to the Chemistry Chamber.
This was a place Tara didn’t much like, where her grandmother conducted all sorts of strange, noisy, and often stinky experiments. It was sealed from any natural light, and completely circular. Even the furniture was round. There wasn’t a single angle in the place except for the big pentagram faintly glowing in the middle of the room. Tara had never seen it before, because it was normally covered with a round carpet.
“Er, can I help?” she whispered, nervously chewing on her forelock.
The wizard turned and looked at her thoughtfully.
“No, I don’t think so. But you must avoid all contact with the floor while I’m treating your grandmother, so please go sit on the table.”
For once, Tara obeyed without asking questions.
Chem finally noticed that he was dressed only in his underwear. Grumbling at the elemental—Tara caught the words “insolent,” “swaggering,” and “a good lesson”—he conjured himself a midnight blue robe, and a pair of silver slippers appeared on his feet.
Carefully standing outside the pentagram, he pushed Isabella’s body to its center, then took off his shoes and socks.
To Tara’s great surprise, the wizard then levitated and went to hover above Isabella’s body. He waved his hand and recited some spells, and rays shot from each of his fingers and toes. The twenty beams of light struck the pentagram.
It was very impressive.
“By Transformus, I illuminate you, Isabella!”
With each word, the pentagram glowed more brightly.
“By Illuminus, I transform you, Isabella!”
This sparked a flash of light so bright that Tara was sorry not to have sunglasses.
“May the Rigidifus be banished, I command it!”
At that, the light began to turn pinkish. Hovering motionless, the wizard observed it carefully. When it turned a deep blood red, he raised his arms and cried: “By Vivus, this formula is the right one!”
A deafening explosion followed. Isabella’s body glowed briefly, and the whole chamber went dark.
Tara felt a little panicky. The room was pitch black and there wasn’t a sound to be heard.
Then a slightly irritated voice broke the silence.
“By Demiderus, would somebody please turn on the light?”
“Grandma!” shouted Tara. She was beside herself with joy, but didn’t dare move without the wizard’s permission.
“Tara’tylanhnem, is that you? What the—?”
“One moment, my dear,” came the wizard’s voice in the darkness. “I will shed light both on the room and your situation.”
At his command, a glow lit up the scene, softly at first, then stronger, revealing Isabella seated in the center of the pentagram.
“Chem?” she asked in surprise. “What are you doing here?”
“Well, let’s just say—”
“He saved your life!” burst in Tara. “May I get down now, Master?” Tara couldn’t pronounce the wizard’s name, and “master” was a term of respect that seemed to suit him. If he didn’t like it, that was just too bad.
“What? Yes, of course.”
Tara jumped down and ran to hug her grandmother.
Isabella was surprised by the display of affection and awkwardly patted Tara’s back. Seeing this, the old wizard frowned. The girl clearly gave all her love to her grandmother, but the latter didn’t return it—or at least didn’t show it. And Chem knew how dangerous it was to deprive a child of affection. He would have to talk to Isabella, and soon.
He was thinking about this and putting on his unusual shoes while the girl told her grandmother everything that had happened. At that, Isabella hugged her granddaughter tight. This time the wizard’s eyebrows went up instead of down. All right, he thought, all is not lost.
But the woman quickly got a grip on herself. She was a little unsteady when she stood up, and Tara helped her, but she shook off the girl to walk alone. The wizard caught Tara’s look of sadness and sighed.
When Isabella was sure that Deria, Tachil, and Mangus were all okay, she went upstairs to her office, followed by Tara and Chem.
“Tara’tylanhnem, would you mind going to your room, please? Chemnashaovirodaintrachivu and I have important things to discuss.” Before Tara could answer, the wizard spoke up: “No Isa, she’s staying.”
Isabella was about to protest, but she yielded wearily, while looking at the wizard with annoyance.
“Good,” he said calmly. “Come over here, Tara, and let’s see what your grandmother has taught you.”
“She hasn’t taught me anything, Master! I don’t know the first thing about spellbinders, attacks, or those elementary thingies.”
“But you do know that we’re spellbinders?”
“Yeah, I kind of figured that one out,” said Tara sarcastically.
“You might say I saw it at work when my grandmother hit me with a forgetting spell and it wound up nearly killing both of us.”
The wizard looked uncomfortable.
“Hmm, we�
��ll see about that later. For now let’s start at the beginning, with the basics. There are a great number of peoples in the universe, living more or less at peace with each other. Like humans, these people have children, parents, grandparents, great-grandparents, great-great-grandparents . . . anyway, the races live a long time. Their basic needs and limitations are the same everywhere: to eat, sleep, study—”
Tara was on familiar ground there, and she interrupted the wizard.
“Do you have schools for spellbinders, like on television?”
“Ahhh, your television! No, we don’t have schools for spellbinders. You need only read a book of spells once, and it becomes part of your mind forever. We don’t need to study.”
Tara’s eyes widened in surprise. What? No need to study? Betty would love that!
Isabella shot the old wizard a look of irritation and spoke up.
“But we need to constantly study to make sure that our presence doesn’t harm or endanger the worlds where we live,” she said. “That takes a lot of work. And specialties are not learned in books but in practice, and that takes a lot of work too.”
Unruffled, Chem continued.
“Tell me, dear, based on what you’ve seen on television and in your movies, what do you know about spellbinders?”
At this, Tara started to flounder. The old wizard was so odd, she didn’t quite know how to answer.
“Well, you have cauldrons, and you mix potions, there’s black magic and white magic, and . . . ”
Chem was making such a horrible face that Tara’s voice gradually faded away.
“Fire and brimstone!” the old wizard raged. “Nonspells are always trying to codify what spellbinders do, and it’s always twaddle! Cauldrons and potions exist, but they aren’t important! We are masters of spells. And magic isn’t black or white; it’s just a tool that depends on who is using it. If you slice your bread with a knife, that’s good, but if you stab somebody with a knife, that’s bad. But the knife isn’t good or bad; it’s just a knife. Zounds! Your grandmother hasn’t taught you anything!”
“Well, duh! That’s just the problem,” said Tara. “And who are those Bloodgraves? You haven’t talked about them yet.”
She had touched on a sore point, and the wizard grimaced.
“The Bloodgraves are pretentious, arrogant spellbinders who think they’re powerful enough to be masters of the universe. They dress only in gray and hide their faces behind a mask so no one will know who they are. They have declared themselves our enemies and are constantly battling us for control of our worlds.”
Now it was Tara’s turn to grimace. “Why do they have such a weird name?”
“In the language of our primitive ancestors, we were known as ‘Those who know how to bind spells.’ That was a little long, and over time it became shortened to ‘spellbinders.’ Those who lacked our powers were called ‘non-spellbinders.’ That got shortened as well, to ‘nonspells.’ A spellbinder named Druidor Bloodgrave decided that the nonspells should be our slaves. The hunter-elves defeated and killed him, but not before he acquired followers. When they decided to challenge us, the gray spellbinders called themselves Bloodgraves in Druidor’s honor, and dug up those ridiculous old names. For heaven’s sake, Isabella, you could at least have warned her against the Bloodgraves.”
“I didn’t teach Tara’tylanhnem anything because her father made me swear that she would not be a spellbinder and would lead a normal life. To protect her, I was even prepared to hide her gift from the High Council.”
“What?” the old wizard almost fell off his chair. “That’s unacceptable! How could you conceive of such a thing? It’s forbidden!”
Though no longer under the petrifying spell, Isabella was as still and rigid as a statue.
“I gave my word,” she simply said.
“That’s no reason! We have laws, Isabella, laws created to protect the nonspells and also to protect us. We aren’t outlaws, like the Bloodgraves. Do you have any idea how much harm Tara could have done?”
“But it didn’t happen!”
“Enough! That’s no excuse! Or do you think you are above the law, Isabella? Are you declaring yourself to be a Semchanach?”
(Semchanachs, Tara would learn much later, were spellbinders who rejected the authority of the High Council. They weren’t necessarily Bloodgraves, and could use magic as they pleased, provided it didn’t harm anyone. If it did, they were mercilessly tracked down by the hunter-elves.)
Isabella looked as if she’d been punched in the face.
“No, of course not!” she shot back. “I’ve never tried to evade the Council’s authority. I obey its orders, as you know better than anyone. But Chem, I swore a blood oath!”
Now it was the old wizard’s turn to stiffen.
“A blood oath! Are you joking?”
“Certainly not,” she said, pulling up the sleeves of her robe and moving her bracelets aside. Each of her wrists bore a red glyph in the shape of a horizontal number 8. The wizard turned pale and took a step back.
“If Tara’tylanhnem becomes a wizard, I will die,” she said as she covered up the glyphs.
Stunned, Tara stared at her grandmother. What was she talking about?
The old wizard was thinking so hard, Tara almost expected to see smoke come out of his ears.
“Well that changes everything,” he said gravely. “I didn’t know. Did that happen when you—”
“Yes,” interrupted Isabella, nodding meaningfully toward the girl.
Tara understood perfectly: more blasted secrets! But now she had a secret as well—about her mother—and had no intention of sharing it.
“In that case we have a serious problem,” said Chem, giving Isabella a worried glance. “How much time would you need to protect the property and the girl?”
“Not more than about ten days, if you can lend me Padimo and Glivol. The thing is, I don’t have all the necessary ingredients here.”
“Hmm, I see. And it would be too dangerous to take Tara with you, I imagine. All right, here’s what I suggest: I’ll take your granddaughter with me for ten days. She will accompany me to Other-World, to the Royal Castle of Travia. That way I’ll be able to protect her. And then I’ll send her back to you.”
He made an odd gesture in the air, stretched out his hand, and raised his voice: “Let what I have declared be recorded.”
Tara jumped when she heard an incredibly high-pitched voice chirping, seemingly from the empty air. It spoke so rapidly it was as if the words were stuck together: “Verywell, High Wizard. The High Council here by records the decision. he notice will be publishedintheofficialCouncilgazette.”
Chem frowned, rubbed his ear, and fiddled with something in his hand.
“No, I want this decision recorded in executive session,” he specified. “No point in telling everybody that the child will be on OtherWorld. Simply advise the other members of the Council. Oh, and also Master T’andilus M’angil, the head of our secret services.”
This time, the disembodied voice was incredibly low, and spoke very, very slowly: “Veerrryyy weelll, Hiiiggghhh Wiiiizzzzaaaarrrrddd, iiittt wwwiiilll bbbeee dddooonnneee.”
The wizard sighed, annoyed at the bad connection. When he lowered his hand, Tara saw something in it sparkle and realized that he had been communicating by means of a kind of crystal ball, which he now put in his pocket.
Isabella hadn’t moved during this entire exchange.
“I could keep Tara’tylanhnem with me,” she said soberly. “Now that I know how the Bloodgraves operate, I can repulse them.”
The old wizard looked at her, noting the dark circles under her eyes and her slightly trembling hands.
“I think you’re very tired, Isabella. Better for the child to come with me. It will be less of a burden if you aren’t worried about her.”
Isabella hesitated, but then admitted how fatigued she was. She took a deep breath and looked at her granddaughter.
“I can’t always express things the
way I’d like to, but I love you deeply, Tara’tylanhnem, and I want the best for you. But Chem is right. I can’t protect you if you’re with me.”
Tears came to the girl’s eyes. She knew that her grandmother loved her, in her own way. But there’s a huge difference between knowing it and hearing it said, as she was discovering.
“I love you too, Grandma.”
Well aware that Isabella didn’t like to be touched, Tara did nothing. But when her grandmother opened her arms, she joyfully ran to hug her.
“Well, well,” said the old wizard with great satisfaction. “That’s one good thing taken care of. Now Tara, it’s very early, and you have hours of missed sleep to make up. Go to bed. We will leave for OtherWorld later.”
Tara left the office, her mind still buzzing with questions despite her fatigue. She understood clearly that the wizard was bringing her to a different world tomorrow. And she remembered what her mother had told her, that she was imprisoned in the Gray Fortress on OtherWorld. Perfect, she smiled to herself. The wizard was taking her exactly where she most wanted to go.
As Master Chem went upstairs to the guest room he also had plenty to think about during what was left of the night.
By what incredible coincidence had the Bloodgraves attacked the Duncan family? After all, the High Council itself knew nothing about this unrevealed young spellbinder. And how had Tara managed to redirect the deadly ray? Only a wizard of an extremely high level could have countered an attack like that. Even Isabella hadn’t been able to.
Also, Tara had been remarkable in resisting his Somnolus spell. True, he hadn’t cranked it up very high. He hadn’t wanted to knock her out for two weeks, just two hours. Still, she had stood up to him.
Finally, those infernal Bloodgraves wanted the girl. They wanted her so badly they were willing to send two of their own, including the famous Magister, their leader, to kidnap her.
It was all very interesting. Yes, very, very interesting.
Tara Duncan and the Spellbinders Page 5
