Broken Spells

by D. W. Moneypenny

  Ping walked next to her while Sam and Diana trailed behind several feet, far enough that separate conversations were possible.

  “Do you think the Coven is following us?” Mara asked.

  “Given we are on the only known path to their Arboretum, it wouldn’t be necessary. They’ve already confirmed we’re in the swamp, so they could monitor our progress by simply posting watchmen along the route.”

  Mara felt something small hit her in the back of the head. Rubbing the spot, she turned to see her brother laughing, chucking pebbles in their direction. Diana swatted him on the arm in mock punishment for being bad.

  Mara glared at him and said, “Cut it out. I’m jumpy enough as it is.” She turned to Ping. “He must be getting bored already.” Mara peered into the swamp, not quite convinced they weren’t being followed. “You’re probably right. I need something to distract me from worrying about it—something other than the occasional pebble hitting my head. How about we continue with the lessons while we walk?”

  “It might be prudent not to deplete your powers while we are exposed on the path. It also could be difficult to continue hiking if you grow exhausted again,” Ping said.

  “Let’s just talk concepts without practicing. It might help to let the principles from the book bounce around in my head for a while before using them. I’m particularly curious about incantations and casting spells. Conceptually, how does that work? It sounds like nothing I’ve ever done.”

  “Very well. Given your technical inclinations, the subject might not be as unfamiliar as it sounds. Let’s begin with conditional statements. I assume you are familiar with them?”

  “Like if-then statements in computer programming? If you click on button A, then menu B will be displayed. That sort of thing?”

  “Exactly. That is how spells work. You set the conditions, and, when they are met, something happens as a result.”

  “Cool. That’s easy enough to understand.” Mara walked into a massive low-hanging leaf that startled her. She pushed it aside so Ping could pass. “In theory, I get it. A spell is like computer code, but how do you write it? What language do you use? Where does this code run?”

  “A spell is written in the form of an incantation. You run the code, or cast the spell, by concentrating on it. The Elements of Magic recommends verbalizing the incantation to focus the mind.”

  “But where is this spell running? A software program runs through a processor or computer of some kind.”

  “Think about Sam’s analogy with Perception being the user interface and Reality being the underlying program. As a progenitor, you can alter Reality, the underlying program, by—”

  “Introducing new code into the program,” Mara said.

  “Exactly.”

  “It’s such a simple concept. Why didn’t we discuss this before?” she asked.

  “Unfortunately you were limited by my own scant knowledge of how to apply a progenitor’s abilities. My theoretical background in metaphysics has helped us understand the structure of the world around us, but it was woefully inadequate to educate you on the practical uses of your powers. For that, I apologize. It should have occurred to me to reach beyond my limited understanding to help you better utilize your talents.”

  “Nonsense. I wouldn’t have gotten this far without you,” Mara said. “So exactly how does this work—if I wanted to cast a spell?”

  “Let’s formulate an if-then statement. In most cases, the if statement would involve elements of Perception to which you would apply one of the elements of Reality. For example, say there’s a—”

  A pebble whizzed past Ping’s cheek.

  “Just ignore him,” Mara said. “He’ll eventually find something else to amuse himself.”

  Something seemed to occur to Ping. “For example, let’s say you’d like to cast a spell to stop Sam from throwing pebbles at you.”

  “Pebbles are made of dirt, of the Earth—an element of Perception,” she added.

  “Correct. Now let’s say you wanted to throw that pebble back at the person flinging it at you. What would be the conditional statement?”

  “If you throw a pebble at me, then it will boomerang back at you.”

  “What element of Reality would need to be applied to the pebble for that to happen?”

  “You’re changing how the pebble is moving through Space, so there’s that.”

  “Correct. What if you wanted to wait until his defenses were down before returning fire with the pebble? You could build in a bit of a delay.”

  “Really? I can set a Time-delay in a spell?”

  “If it’s part of your conditional statement, part of the spell.”

  “Cool. Let me see if I can get this straight in my head. If you throw a pebble at me, then it will boomerang back at you in ten seconds. Like that?”

  “Exactly.”

  A third pebble flew by Mara’s shoulder.

  “He’s lucky I’m on hiatus from practicing magic during this lesson. Okay, I’ve got the conditional statement organized in my head, sort of. What now?”

  “You need to formulate an incantation that focuses the mind. The book says the format it takes can be a poem, a lyric, even a simple couplet or rhyme. Whatever clicks for you.”

  Mara frowned and tried to think of something as they continued to walk along the path. After a few minutes of trying to compose something in her head, she sighed. “Poetry isn’t really my thing. I’m not sure how good I’ll be at incantations.”

  “Don’t think about the words. Concentrate on what you wish to accomplish with the spell and then state it as succinctly as you can. No doubt it will take some practice. Give it a try. Tell me your incantation—speak it aloud.”

  Mara blushed and felt silly. “Okay. Here we go. Pebbles thrown at me … will boomerang at your knee … after ten seconds. Ha! There’s even a rhyme in there.”

  “Interesting,” Ping said. He tapped his right thumb on the fingers of the same hand, counting.

  “What’s interesting?”

  “You incanted in the form of a haiku. Did you do that intentionally?” he asked.

  “No, it just came out that way. I’m sure it’s a fluke.”

  “Five syllables, seven, then five more. You even paused at the correct places in your incantation. It’s not a fluke. Fascinating. Do you understand the implications of that?”

  “I subconsciously like to count syllables?”

  “No. The haikus your future self sent back in the Chronicle of Continuity might have been much more than instructions on what to do in our situation. It’s possible that she cast spells in order to control what would happen. Or rather she sent back spells for you to cast to help us.”

  “Why send them back in Time? Why not just cast them herself?” Mara asked.

  “Maybe spells can’t be cast from the future into the past. She needed you to verbalize them in your own Time period. Remarkable, absolutely remarkable.”

  “I’m not sure I like the idea of my future self casting spells on me without my knowledge. On the other hand, I could imagine doing it, considering how close-minded and hardheaded I was about all this metaphysical stuff. It might have been the only way to get things to work out the way she wanted.”

  “The whole concept of casting spells opens a world of possibilities for you.”

  “Let’s not get too excited. We don’t even know if I can cast a spell or if I can make up a working incantation,” Mara said.

  Another pebble flew between them. This time, after it zipped past their shoulders, it paused in the air two feet ahead of them for a moment. After rotating slowing, it executed a midair U-turn and flew past their shoulders in the opposite direction.

  “Ouch! Hey, that hurt!” Sam yelled. “You know that I need that knee if you want me to keep walking.”

  Mara laughed and clapped. “That is so cool! How long will the spell last?”

  “Conceptually, you have altered Reality. I would imagine it will last until you reverse it. Wh
enever anyone throws a pebble at you, it will respond in that manner.”

  “I think I like this casting spells stuff after all.”

  Sam called out from behind them, “I’m starving. Can we stop and get some lunch?” He pointed to a large log sitting off the side of the trail. “This is as good a place as any.”

  * * *

  After a lunch of sandwiches and potato chips, Mara sat on the log between Sam and her mother, comparing notes on their respective counterparts.

  “Sam says I’m very similar to your mother,” Diana said.

  Mara nodded and said, “I would say so. She’s open-minded and tends to embrace what some would call fringe beliefs. She meditates and uses crystals to focus her thoughts. Many of her friends believe in reading auras, psychic healing and other New Age concepts.”

  “And you have embraced these as well?”

  “I wouldn’t go that far. It would be more accurate to say that I tolerate them. Which, for me, is progress. A year ago I could be quite antagonistic to anything that couldn’t be proven through traditional science or technology.”

  “Sound like you are quite similar to my Mara. Despite my beliefs and her obvious talents, she has resisted embracing magic. It has been a point of contention between us in the past, but lately we’ve simply agreed to disagree.”

  “Sounds familiar,” Mara said.

  From the log next to theirs, Ping pointed up the trail and said quietly, “Looks like we might have company. I saw a flash of a white robe through the brush beyond the bend in the path.”

  Mara frowned. “You think they’ve seen us?”

  “I doubt it. I just got a fleeting glimpse of them. If they had not been moving, I would not have noticed. Since we are stationary, it’s unlikely they have spotted us,” Ping murmured.

  Mara pointed to the thicket behind the logs on which they sat. “Let’s hide in there and see what they are up to. If we can avoid a confrontation, that might be best. If we stop and tangle with every acolyte we bump into, we’ll never make it to the Arboretum.”

  She pushed aside a loose knot of limbs, and the others stepped into the brush, where they spotted a large tree several feet back. They gathered around the far side of the trunk and leaned sideways to watch the trail, which was difficult to see through the dense screen of branches and vines.

  Ping pointed. “Look. Someone’s approaching.”

  Patches of white flitted through the gaps between branches as someone walked up to the logs on which they’d just finished lunch. Whoever it was also seemed to think it was a good spot to pause for a rest and took a seat.

  Mara glanced at Ping, raising an eyebrow. What do we do now?

  As he shrugged in response, a sniffling sound came from the log. After cocking her head to listen, Mara raised a hand to the others. Stay here.

  She took a long, slow step away from the tree toward the trail and the screen of foliage between them and the logs. Something snapped underfoot, and she gritted her teeth, froze in place for a second. She took another sniffle sound from the log as a signal that she had not been detected and continued forward, half-tiptoeing through the soft ground. When she arrived at the edge of the thicket, she gingerly pushed aside a branch and peeked through the opening.

  On the log where she had been a few minutes before sat a small white-cowled figure, hunched over. From behind, it seemed to hold its head with its hands, and the sniffles continued. Either the acolyte was crying or had a terrible cold. It also occurred to Mara that the dirty white robe sagged profoundly around the tiny figure.

  Mara released the branch she held aside and returned to the tree.

  Ping leaned forward and whispered, “What did you see?”

  “It looks like an acolyte in one of those white robes, and I think he or she is crying. It’s a kid or a small woman,” she said. “Could be an opportunity to learn a little about the Arboretum. What do you think about me stepping out there and talking to her or him?”

  “We have no idea if other acolytes are in the area. Even if that is a child, he or she could sound the alarm as well as any adult,” he said.

  “If it’s information you want, let me go,” Sam said.

  Ping nodded. “Considering the circumstances, it is more likely Sam would be successful without drawing attention from other acolytes in the area.”

  Looking doubtful, Mara said, “All right but be careful. That acolyte might be small, but that doesn’t mean he or she isn’t dangerous.”

  CHAPTER 21

  Instead of approaching the acolyte from behind, Sam decided it would be better to cut through the trees and brush, back in the direction from which they had hiked, and arrive via the trail as if he’d just happened by. It took him several minutes to clear the swamp and step out onto the path several yards away. He made a point of being quiet, not wanting to make his presence known too soon and thereby giving the acolyte time to hide. That might cause an unfortunate run-in with the others hiding not too far away.

  His concerns were unfounded. As he arrived at the logs alongside the trail, the acolyte continued to look downward, its hood blocking both its face and its ability to see anyone approaching. The tiny figure on the log lifted its arm and swiped its sleeve across its face while releasing a loud sniffle. Sam stood there for a moment, undetected, observing. From its demeanor, Sam concluded the acolyte was a kid.

  “Hi,” Sam said.

  The acolyte jumped up and pushed the hood off its head, letting the material pile onto tiny shoulders. It was a boy, pale and wide-eyed, with a look of shock and fear. Though the robe hid his small frame, he seemed tense and ready to bound over the logs and into the swamp.

  Sam locked onto the boy’s gaze and prompted, “Don’t be afraid. Don’t run. No one’s going to hurt you here.”

  The boy relaxed but didn’t say anything.

  “What’s your name?” Sam asked.

  “Nash—short for Nashua.”

  “I’m Sam.” He guessed Nash was probably nine or ten years old. The boy had clean tracks down his dusty cheeks left by his tears, and his nose glistened with dampness. “Why are you crying?”

  The boy wiped the sleeve of his robe—so long that it hid his hand—across his nose again. “I’m not crying. Not now anyway. I’m tired and hungry, and I want to go home.”

  “Are you an acolyte of the Coven? If so, you’re heading in the wrong direction to get to the Arboretum.”

  Anger flared on the boy’s features. “I am not one of them. I’m trying to get away from the Coven and the Arboretum.”

  “If you’re not an acolyte, how did you end up out here in the swamp?”

  “My mom joined the Coven a couple months ago and brought me out here. Two days ago, I ran away, and I got lost when I went into the woods to hide from the bowraiths sent to find me. I just found the path again this morning,” Nash said. “Do you have any food or water?”

  Sam nodded. “My mother and sister have some. They are hiding nearby. Have a seat, and I’ll go get them.”

  Without question, Nash sat on the log while Sam stepped over it and pulled back some branches and peered into the thicket. “You guys can come out now.”

  Ping was the first to clear the foliage. “He said bowraiths were following him. When was the last time he saw them?”

  Sam turned to ask, but Nash didn’t wait for the question. “That doesn’t look like your sister or your mother.” The boy eyed Ping suspiciously.

  “He’s a friend. Answer his question,” Sam said, prompting the boy again.

  “I haven’t seen the bowraiths since yesterday. I’m from the Chamber of Earth and replanted one of them. The other one backed away, and I haven’t seen him since, though he’s probably still trying to find me,” Nash said.

  Mara emerged from the brush, quickly followed by Diana.

  The boy’s eyes widened as he saw Mara. “You! How did you get away?”

  “Excuse me? How did I get away from what?” she asked.

  “From the Arboret
um. I saw them bring you in on a stretcher the other day,” Nash said. “How could you escape? My mother said Curate Tran gave you a potion that made you sleep so you couldn’t hurt us.”

  “He must have seen my Mara,” Diana said. She knelt beside the boy sitting on the log. Noticing how dirty his robe and face were, she lowered her backpack and took out a moistened towelette and began wiping his cheeks. “You said she was asleep. Did she look like she was injured? Did she have any cuts or bruises, anything like that?”

  “No. She looked just like this one.” Nash eyed Mara suspiciously. “Are you twins or something?”

  “Or something,” Mara said. “It’s a long story, but the person you saw wasn’t me. She just looks like me. You said she didn’t appear to be hurt?”

  “She was just asleep. They put her in a room in the curate’s Apex. That’s in the top of the dome in the Arboretum.”

  Diana continued wiping at his face while he talked, and Ping took a seat on the log next to him. “A moment ago you mentioned the bowraiths followed you. What did you mean, you replanted one of them?” Ping asked.

  “The bowraiths are trees made by acolytes with powers of the Earth. Since I am from that chamber, I’ve learned to—um—kinda turn them back into trees? Just learned last week. Wasn’t even sure it would work, but it did.”

  “What’s this Chamber of Earth?” Mara asked.

  “Below the Apex, the Arboretum is divided into four chambers, one for each of the elements. When you live at the Arboretum, you are assigned to the chamber of your power. It’s where you learn to do magic and to defend the Coven,” Nash said.

  “Defend the Coven from what?” Mara asked.

  “If you guys are going to continue to grill him, at least give him something to eat,” Sam said. “He hasn’t eaten in two days.”

  Diana, finished cleaning Nash’s face, gasped and looked appalled. “I’ll get you some food in a second, sweetie. Stand up and get out of that filthy robe. It’s soaked and covered in mud. Mara, there’s an extra jacket at the bottom of your pack. Pull it out and give it to Nash.”

  The boy followed instructions and handed the robe to Diana without comment. Under it, he wore a T-shirt featuring Mickey Mouse dressed as a wizard and a pair of baggy jeans. Out of the robe, he looked like any elementary school kid. Mara handed him the jacket, and Diana helped him slip it on, then removed the cellophane from a turkey sandwich, opened a bottle of water and handed them to him. He ate and drank like a boy who’d gone without for a couple days, barely taking the time to chew once before swallowing each bite.