Broken Spells

by D. W. Moneypenny

  “When did Mara use her powers on Sam?” Ping asked.

  Sam’s eyes narrowed as if it took some effort to call up the memory. “There was a time in a warehouse. Mara wanted him to prompt a dragon, and Sam kept telling her that he couldn’t see into its eyes, so she transported him directly in front of the beast, fairly close to its mouth. I’m having trouble remembering all the details. A blond girl was there, and …”

  “So was I,” Ping finished. “Technically you are correct. Mara did force the issue on that one occasion, but it was an emergency that needed to be resolved.”

  “You’re saying it would be justified for Sam to prompt his sister to use her abilities in an emergency?” Sam asked.

  “If an emergency arose, and Mara could not tap into her abilities of her own volition, then he might be justified in prompting her. However, he would not have to justify his actions to me. It would be to Mara. And she could give him more than a cold shoulder if he made the wrong decision. It’s not something that should be taken lightly.”

  “Their relationship seems to be more complicated than the one I have with my Mara,” Sam said. “Why do you suppose that is?”

  Ping mulled it over for a moment. “First of all, Mara and Sam come from different realms, different backgrounds. It took Mara quite a while to accept that she had a brother at all, since the Sam from her realm had died shortly after he was born. Add to that the volatile events of the past several months and the fact that both have developed their metaphysical abilities rapidly in a short time, and you have a situation that is rather complex.”

  “So this Sam isn’t really her brother.”

  “Metaphysically speaking, he is. However, even if that wasn’t so, Sam and Mara have bonded and are as close as any siblings I’ve ever known, despite the complexities they have encountered since they met.”

  “That means, metaphysically, I’m her brother as well.”

  “That is true. You are who Sam would be if he had lived the life you lived in this realm.”

  “What is the point of it all?” the boy asked. “Why do we exist like this?”

  “At this time in existence, everyone exists in multiple realms, experiencing every possibility of life.”

  “But why?”

  “It is the process of creation, to determine the universe’s final design. The grand scheme of things is to try out every possibility, and the most viable realm will become the enduring one. That is the essence of metaphysics.”

  “Meaning, at some point, once this process is complete, there will be one realm instead of many? And there will be one Sam instead of many?”

  “I would assume so. Unless for some unfathomable reason, Sam doesn’t fit into the final design—which I could not imagine,” Ping said.

  “Me neither. I guess there’s no hurry to arrive at that point,” Sam said.

  Several yards ahead, Mara turned around and waved them to the side of the trail. Ping frowned and called to her, “What is it?”

  “We’re here. It’s the Arboretum, I think,” she said.

  * * *

  The mushroom-shaped structure squatted atop a sharp rise nearly a mile away from where Mara and the others crouched behind brush, where the trail ended, and the barrens began. It was an open field in which the ground had been torn up, pocked by hundreds of pits and mounds of dirt, as if a giant hand had plucked all the vegetation from the land for hundreds of yards surrounding the steep hill. In the distance, thanks to its higher elevation, Mara could see water flowing around the plateau on which the Arboretum sat.

  The building itself looked organic—slightly lopsided, not quite symmetrical—as if it had sprouted from the high ground. Its base appeared to be alternating pillars of green and brown while its body—the large cap of the mushroom—looked like a semitransparent membrane had been poured over a latticework of interlocking veins. Its surface had a flat sheen that caught the sunlight and reflected it dully. A straight ramp extended from below the ’shroom cap—as Mara thought of it—across the band of flowing water surrounding it.

  “It looks like … I don’t know what it looks like,” Mara said.

  “Like a giant jellyfish from outer space landed up there,” Sam said. “It’s kind of creepy. How will we ever get close to it without them knowing we’re coming?”

  “It definitely has a biological aspect to its design,” Ping said. “As far as how to approach it, that will take some thought. I wish we could get a closer look at it.”

  “I might be able to help with that,” Diana said. She patted Mara’s backpack and added, “I think a pair of binoculars are in your side pouch. We used them for that birdwatching hike we went on last spring. Remember?”

  Mara didn’t bother to point out that she wasn’t the Mara on the birdwatching trip as she swung the pack to the ground and unzipped the side pocket. There she found a small set of folding binoculars only slightly larger than her hand in their compact state. Unfolding them and holding them to her eyes, she gazed across the barrens to the building beyond. After scanning the structure for several minutes, she gasped.

  “What is it?” Ping asked.

  “You can see those brown pillars at the base of the building, right?” she asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Those aren’t pillars. They are bowraiths inside alcoves built into the outside wall of the Arboretum. They look integrated into the fabric of the structure somehow. Take a look.” She handed the binoculars to Ping. “What do you think of that? What’s the purpose?”

  Ping peered up the rise ahead. After staring for several minutes without commenting, he lowered the eyeglasses and said, “My first impression was they were designed to be sentries, guards. But it appears they are fully integrated into the structure itself. Those vein-looking striations running through the main body of the building appear to be branches shooting off from the bowraiths themselves, if I’m correct.”

  “Why design the place like that?” Mara said. “The bowraiths can’t protect a building they are integrated into. Can they?”

  Ping shrugged.

  “May I take a look?” Diana asked.

  Ping handed the binoculars to her.

  While staring at the building, Mara said, “It might have been expediency. The fastest way to build something that elaborate in such a short time might have simply been to have the bowraiths use themselves as building materials. Imagine how quickly they could have assembled the place with animated, autonomous materials.”

  Ping nodded. “That makes sense. It also implies the acolytes were under some time constraint to get the Arboretum completed.”

  “Before we got here?” Sam asked.

  “There’s no way to know for sure, but it might be prudent to work under that assumption,” Ping said. “After all, they knew we were coming.”

  “What do we do now? We don’t have the element of surprise, and we’ve got to get inside a building not only fortified like a castle but built out of autonomous creatures that will see us coming as soon as we step out onto the barrens,” Mara said.

  “My first recommendation would be to wait until nightfall before we attempt anything,” Ping said. “That will give us some cover as well as time to come up with a plan.”

  CHAPTER 26

  Bands of cyan and magenta clouds glowed in the darkening sky over the Arboretum, casting an eerie backdrop for the contrasting yellows and greens that emitted through the walls of the Arboretum atop the plateau. Shadows already engulfed the barrens while ambient light danced on the flowing river currents that swirled in the moat. The water was utmost in Mara’s mind as she watched the ramp at the base of the building retract like a spider tucking a leg beneath its carapace.

  She lowered the binoculars and glanced to Ping, who stood next to her at the end of the trail leading into the barrens. “You think it will work?” she asked.

  “Given the ambient coolness of the air, it should provide enough cover for us to cross the barrens without being detected. If you raise the temp
erature of the water slowly enough, it might even look like a natural phenomenon,” he said. “It’s best if you start now, so we have the full effect by the time it’s completely dark.”

  “If we want to spread the effect over Time, it might be best to use a spell. That way, I won’t have to stand here and focus on what’s happening. That make sense?” she asked.

  “I’m confident in your instincts. Do what you think is best.”

  She closed her eyes and composed an incantation. A moment later, she opened her eyes, looking a little self-conscious, and she shifted her gaze toward the Arboretum. She recited:

  River water streams

  Into a hot moat, then steams,

  To fog the dark night.

  Ping had the binoculars at his eyes as she turned back to him.

  “Well?” she asked.

  He smiled and handed the binoculars to her. “Take a look,” he said.

  She peered through the lenses and focused on the surface of the moat, where she could see wisps of steam now rising from the water. Not sure if it was wishful thinking, she watched for several seconds until the vaporous tendrils reaching into the air thickened and rolled over the banks of the moat as it met cooler air.

  “Cool,” she said. “We should have pea soup shortly after dark, if I got the timing right.”

  “What will prevent us from becoming disoriented as we cross the barrens? The distance is enough that we could get lost before we find our way to the Arboretum,” Ping asked.

  “I think I’ve got that covered,” she said.

  Behind them, deeper within the swamp foliage, Sam’s double voice called out, “Mom says dinner is ready. Come and get it.”

  Mara and Ping followed the sound of his voices, and, as she approached her brother, she asked, “Is there a way for you to talk without echoing when both of you are awake? And do your eyes have to glow like that?”

  “I kinda like when my eyes glow,” Sam said. “It makes me feel like a comic book character. Why do you ask?” He focused them on a thick patch of bushes from which a thin billow of smoke emerged.

  Mara and Ping followed him to the small gap in the brush near the trail where Diana was cooking over a small fire. “I didn’t think a little fire would make much difference, and we’re out of sandwich supplies,” Diana said as they sat down nearby, their backs against the surrounding cluster of trees.

  “With the fog rolling in, they won’t see it,” Mara said. “Besides, they already know we’re out here, so I don’t think we’ll be surprising anyone, not completely anyway.”

  “So? Why are you asking about my eyes and my voice?” Sam interjected.

  “Curate Tran already seems interested in you because you’re a prompter. Being that there are now two of you in that body, it might draw her attention even more. I just thought it might be safer if you looked and acted a little more normal,” she said.

  Sam glanced at Ping for an opinion. He nodded and said, “I tend to agree. No point in making yourself a more appealing target.”

  Sam frowned, closed his eyes and lowered his head for several seconds. When he looked up and lifted his lids, his eyes appeared normal. In a single voice, he said, “Is that better?”

  “Excellent,” Ping said. “Are both of you conscious now?”

  Sam nodded, turned to his mother and said, “I thought it was time to eat.”

  * * *

  Fog creeped along the ground under the brush surrounding the tiny campfire, which Mara took as a signal that it was time. Sam had been eager to get going, so he and Ping headed out to the edge of the swamp to evaluate how well the fog would provide cover. Mara and Diana finished packing up. Mara eyed her mother as she stuffed the last of her utensils in a backpack and bent to grab a small pot of water, moving to douse the dying embers of the fire.

  “Hold on a minute,” Mara said. “I need to do something before you put out the fire.”

  Diana paused and gave her a querulous look.

  Mara moved to the smoldering pile of ash, holding her hands above it, as if warming her palms, and incanted in a whisper:

  From ashes and fire,

  Our enemies to hinder,

  Come flies of cinder.

  Out of the embers fluttered dozens of cinderflies, spiraling into the dark sky, the edges of their crusty gray wings glowing orange, like mindful burning bits of ash as they flew through the canopy of branches above, disappearing into the night.

  The stream of glowing insects continued until the dying fire had been depleted. Mara pulled back her hands. “You won’t need that water. The fire is out,” she said.

  Diana flung the water into the brush and secured the pot in her pack. As she slipped the cargo onto her back, she asked, “What’s up with the cinderflies?”

  “I’m hoping they can help us not get lost. Also they are what you might call a backup plan, in case things go bad for us,” Mara said, hefting her own pack onto her shoulders.

  “You don’t sound too confident, but I like the notion of preparing for the worst,” Diana said.

  Mara smiled at her mother. “We’re storming a botanical castle on a hill behind a moat filled with religious zealots wielding magical powers. What could go wrong?”

  “Before we get into the thick of whatever it is we’re getting into, I want to thank you for doing this, for putting yourself on the line to save my daughter,” Diana said. “You didn’t have to do this.”

  Mara made a point of catching her mother’s gaze and said, “I do have to do this. Somehow it feels like abandoning her would be like giving up part of my soul. I am supposed to be here and now, doing this. Whatever this turns out to be. It’s like …”

  “Destiny,” Diana finished for her.

  Mara smiled and nodded. “You’re a lot like my mom.”

  “I am your mom, metaphysically. So says Mr. Ping.”

  As they cleared the last several branches and stood on the edge of the barrens a few feet from Ping and Sam, Mara gasped. Murky shadows lingered, almost close enough to touch. Shifting clouds filled the air, backlit from above by a yellow-green vapor that obscured the location and contours of the Arboretum.

  Sam glanced at her and said, “Well, they won’t see us coming. That’s for sure. I can’t even see my feet or the ground.”

  Ping nodded. “It is an impressive feat, but you may have provided more cover than necessary. We may have trouble navigating the uneven terrain.”

  “We’ll have to make do,” Mara said.

  “You mentioned before about a plan for guiding us across the barrens?” Ping asked.

  Mara pointed over his shoulder, and he turned. Several feet away, a faint orange glow bobbed in the fog. “Follow the cinderflies,” she said.

  “Awesome,” Sam said and headed that way. After a couple steps, he appeared to be swallowed up in a roiling bank of clouds. A moment later, sounds of scuffling and grunting came out of the muck.

  “Sam! Are you all right?” Mara called after him. “What happened?”

  “I’m lying on my back in one of those pits where a tree used to be,” he said.

  “Are you hurt?” she asked.

  Over the sounds of shifting dirt as he climbed out, he said, “No, just embarrassed. Watch your step.”

  Mara made a move to go after him, but Diana put a hand on her shoulder. “Hold on a minute,” her mother said as she lowered her pack and unzipped one of its pockets. Straightening, she placed two fingers in her mouth and let out a loud whistle that made everyone jump. “Ginger! Come here, girl.”

  In the distance, loud snorts responded while Diana uncoiled a teal cord she had extracted from her pack. A moment later, the chobodon nuzzled her calf, and she leaned down to give the creature a scratch behind the ears. “Good girl.”

  Diana attached the leash to Ginger’s collar, hidden between two fleshy plates that met near her neck, and crouched next to the animal and pointed at the orange light ahead and said, “Follow the cinderflies, sweetie.”

  Ginger snort
ed and bounded into the fog, yanking Diana after her. Before being swallowed by the haze, she called back to Mara and Ping, “Stay close and keep up.”

  CHAPTER 27

  Sam sat on a mound of dirt next to a deep hole in the ground, the edges of which were strafed with the claw marks he’d made climbing out. He glared at the single cinderfly bobbing and weaving aimlessly over the depressions in the dirt.

  When the rest of the group, led by Ginger, appeared out of the fog, he said to his sister, “Tell me that you didn’t do that on purpose.” He nodded toward the glowing insect.

  “It didn’t occur to me that the terrain would be that big of an issue. On the other hand, I should have anticipated that you’d plunge into the unknown without concern for the consequences,” Mara said.

  “Can you at least tell your bugs not to lead us into every hole and ditch along the way?” he asked.

  Mara held out her hand to help him stand, then moved him aside to allow Ginger and Diana to take the lead. After they passed, Mara fell in behind them and beside her brother, with Ping trailing.

  “I don’t talk to them. The cinderflies, I mean,” she said. She spotted a second orange glow ahead, past her mother’s shoulder. The chobodon smoothly navigated them between several mounds of dirt and a wide crater that could have delayed them quite a while had they fallen in. The damage to the land was more profound than it looked from a distance.

  “If you don’t talk to them, how did you get them to light our way to the Arboretum?” Sam asked.

  “It’s a psychic link.” She smiled.

  He looked doubtful. “Psychic link. Even I don’t believe that. And I know you don’t.”

  She laughed. “No, I don’t. To be honest, I’m not sure what to believe. Metaphysically, I’d say that the cinderflies are an extension of my Consciousness—my being—like an arm or a leg. They don’t have a will of their own. They respond to my will, sometimes without me giving it a focused thought.”

  “Like autonomic reflexes,” Ping said. “Your brain must be sending continuous impulses to them, and they respond to your needs, like your lungs increase your breathing rate when you run.”