Tris & Izzie

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Tris & Izzie Page 16

by Mette Ivie Harrison


  It was obvious from Tristan’s haunted expression that it was not a good memory. “Do you want to talk about it?”

  “With you?” he said, shaking his head. “I should not tell you of such terrible things.”

  “Tristan, I’m not a child, and I’m not a porcelain doll. I’m not going to break if you tell me the hard stuff. I really want to know about your life. All of it.” After all, his life was going to be my life soon. “So tell me, what happened when your father went after the sorcerer?” He already knew what had happened when mine had, though I didn’t know whether Tristan’s father’s attempt had taken place before or after Mom and I left Curvenal.

  “I was eight years old that day,” said Tristan.

  So this was after we’d left. After Dad was dead and the serpent was in charge of Curvenal because there wasn’t a sorcerer there to stop him.

  “My father lost an arm to the serpent.” Tristan pointed to his right side, at the elbow. “He could never wield a sword again. He could only teach me what he knew. He watched me practice every day for hours, told me everything I did wrong.”

  “And you liked that?” It sounded like it, but I knew I wouldn’t have liked it if my dad had done the same thing.

  “He was protecting me in the only way he knew how,” said Tristan. He reached over his shoulder and whispered some-thing, then pulled out the sword, seemingly from nowhere.

  It was cool to watch. “Doesn’t it get in the way when you’re doing other things?” I hadn’t noticed him once moving awkwardly because of the sword, even when he was fighting Mark.

  “It is not here until I bring it out,” said Tristan.

  “I don’t understand.”

  “It goes to another place until I call it by its true name.”

  Another dimension? I remembered my physics teacher talking about the possibilities of multiple universes, a multi-verse, and what the mathematical and physical laws in those places would be. It had been hard to believe then, but maybe at a certain point, physics and magic weren’t so different.

  “What’s its name, then? Excalibur or something?” I asked.

  “No. That is a different sword. And one that has been misused. This one is still pure.”

  I waited for him to tell me the name.

  “It is Excoriator,” he said, moving his lips like he had before but this time making enough sound that I could distinguish the syllables.

  It was an intimidating name. “So if that sword cuts off the giant’s head, then the serpent can’t bring him back to life?”

  “Yes, the magic in the sword’s blade sends the giant’s soul to hell, and there are angels with similar swords who guard the gates of hell to keep him from returning. The name of the sword also dissipates the magic here on earth.”

  “Let’s do it, then,” I said. I definitely wanted to make sure the giant did not return.

  Tristan strode forward, not running this time, but with an easy balance despite the weight of the sword.

  The giant rubble took up most of one end of the parking lot.

  Tristan said the sword’s name, then raised it. I heard a sound like a crack of thunder, and the blade came down like lightning. A stench like old fish and garbage dumps spewed out of the giant’s head, and I wondered if maybe I shouldn’t have bothered changing my clothes. It seemed likely that I was going to have to throw this outfit away, along with the one I’d worn earlier. It was a shame, too, because I really liked the way the khakis fit my butt. I hadn’t even had the chance to ask Tristan what he thought.

  Clearly, in the future, I was going to have to figure out which times were good for dressing up and which weren’t. Otherwise Mom would have to get a second job to support my habit of being attacked by magical creatures.

  “I hope there are better times for us ahead,” said Tristan, breathing hard. He leaned on the sword before putting it away, just as I heard the sound of a helicopter’s blades.

  I looked up and saw a channel number painted on the out-side and a cameraman hanging out the side.

  That was bad.

  Had Tristan put the sword away in time? If not, would people think it was just a prop sword? Would anyone realize it was magic?

  Mom would have to take care of that, though. Tristan and I had other things to do.

  I grabbed Tristan’s hand, and we ran around the other side of the school, then over the football field into a neighbor’s yard. “We’re going to have to walk home from here,” I said.

  Mom was busy, and I didn’t think there was a car worth driving left in the parking lot. Not that any of them were mine in the first place.

  “Walking with you will be a pleasure,” said Tristan.

  I leaned on his arm and we went the long way around. But we had to go up a hill, so when we looked back, we could see the fire engines, ambulances, and police cars.

  In the evening newspaper, the lead story was LOCALIZED QUAKE STUNS TINTAGEL HIGH.

  Yeah, very localized.

  The fire that had devastated the parking lot afterward was attributed to a gas-line break, and it was called “miraculous” that every student and teacher who had been in the building had been accounted for. There were a few minor injuries, but no one had been hospitalized.

  I saw the smiling face of my physics teacher and a list of the students he had saved. Good thing he knew the laws of our universe so well.

  Nothing about magic, not even a hint. So that meant the teachers and students at Tintagel were safe—as long as they stayed far away from me.

  I didn’t see any photos of Tristan with his sword.

  When Tristan and I walked through the front door, news-paper in hand, Branna was awake again, drinking some juice. Mom had told Mark not to let her sit up or eat anything solid, despite her complaining loudly about being hungry. Mark just kept kissing her hands and gently touching her face. Then she would look back at him with shining, sappy eyes and quit talking.

  “I love happy endings,” I said, and I meant it 100 percent. I really was happy for her, and for Mark, too. I had Tristan beside me, and I felt like I had conquered the world and was ready for a rest now.

  Unfortunately, that’s not what happened.

  A couple of hours later, Mom came home. She said she had taken care of the helicopter camera crew, using an amnesia potion in aerosol form. Even though she looked exhausted, she insisted on making us something to eat. “You’ve got to keep up your strength,” she said. “You’ve all been through a lot today.”

  “I’m not really hungry,” I said.

  “Hmm. How about you, Tris?” asked Mom.

  “I suppose I could eat a little,” said Tristan.

  So I went into the kitchen with him, and Mom made us sandwiches. It wasn’t until then that I realized I was starving. I guess killing giants takes more out of you than you might think.

  I finished one sandwich and another and felt like a pig when I almost finished a third. Mark ate four. But Tristan was on number five when he asked if he could have the rest of mine. I handed it over and watched as he finished off an entire gallon of milk. Mark had gone into the other room to look after Branna by then.

  “Well, I was planning to go shopping tomorrow, anyway,” said Mom. “I need more potion ingredients. I’ll just have to stop at the grocery store, too.”

  “You eat that much often?” I asked Tristan.

  He shrugged. “Magical work takes more energy than non-magical work. I know a man in Curvenal who ate an entire bull after he used magic to build an addition to his house. He and his wife were expecting twins.”

  I thought suddenly of Tristan as a dad. He would be a good dad. Just like my dad had been. In fact, I wished Dad were here to see him now. He would have been proud.

  “So, where are you planning to sleep tonight, Tristan? You should stay over here, unless you have someplace else to go,” Mom said.

  Tristan shook his head and muttered something about “propriety.”

  “On the couch,” said Mom. “Far away fro
m Izzie. She can lock her door if that would make you feel better.”

  Tristan went beet red. “Of course, I would never—” he said. But he couldn’t bring himself to say any more.

  And why was he thinking that he was the only one involved in those kinds of choices, anyway? I had to have a talk with him about that.

  “Well, where else are you going to go?”

  “I can go somewhere else,” said Tristan. “I’ll walk.”

  Now Tristan had a chance to see my mom in her full dragon persona. No magic involved.

  “Tristan, you will not walk another step if I have any-thing to say about it. And I do.”

  I cleared my throat. “Um, Mom.”

  “You have no idea, either of you, of the dangers you face. Who’s to say that another giant won’t come after you? Or something worse? Now that they know where you are, it won’t be hard to follow your scent, you know, either of you. Tris, you need Izzie’s magic. Izzie, you need Tris’s knowledge about magic, and that sword of his doesn’t hurt, either.”

  Now I knew why Mom had been feeding us. She was get-ting ready to send us out to war, and she wanted to make sure we were leaving on full stomachs.

  “Fine,” I said. “We get it. Don’t we, Tristan?”

  He nodded, but he didn’t look happy. “I will stay on the front porch,” Tristan finally offered.

  “On the porch? It’s almost winter. It’s going to be close to freezing tonight,” said Mom.

  “I have slept outside through many winter nights,” said Tristan with a look of complete honesty. “I will need a few furs.”

  “We use blankets here,” I said. But I didn’t think I was going to have any luck convincing him to stay inside.

  Even Mark tried to talk Tristan into staying here. Then he called his parents and asked for permission to stay and keep an eye on Branna.

  Afterward, I could tell he told them something else, though, because he was smiling softly at Branna.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  Mark shrugged. “I told my mom that you and I broke up and that I was with Branna now. And my mom said she always wondered about me and Branna, if I would ever notice her. I guess she suspected all along something like this would happen.”

  “I thought she liked me,” I said, pouting a little. I liked Mark’s mom. She did judo and she also knew how to make a mean cheesecake.

  “Oh, she did. I mean, she does,” said Mark. “But she said she thought I wasn’t really seeing you, just the girl you wanted me to see. And she thought Branna was hiding behind you. I guess she was right.”

  I sighed. “Mothers sometimes are,” I said, looking at mine.

  “Sometimes?” said my mom.

  Branna called her parents again and this time told them more of the whole story, that she had been injured during the earthquake, but my mom was taking care her at home.

  I could hear them on speakerphone, and her mom said, “It’s just as well. From what I hear, the hospital is full anyway. By the way, I don’t suppose you’ve heard from your great-aunt?”

  Branna said no, she hadn’t and made a funny face at me.

  It was a strange question.

  “Well, she called,” said Branna’s mom. “She heard the news story from all the way in Germany and wanted to know if you were all right. Said she had a vision that you were hurt by something very large. Something giant, I think she said. An earthquake could be considered giant, couldn’t it?”

  I stared at Branna. A vision? About a giant? Maybe she had magic in her family after all. We’d have to talk about that later.

  Mom assured Branna’s parents that she would keep an eye on Branna, and there was no need for them to worry.

  When she hung up, she checked Branna’s scar. “You did an amazing job of healing her, Izzie,” she said. “Especially considering the fact that it was your first try.”

  “Must be all those years listening to you talk about healing,” I said.

  “I suppose something rubbed off after all.”

  “Yeah,” I said happily. I might not have Mom’s magic, but I had her smarts.

  Then I got a whole stack of blankets for Tristan and went out to the front porch, where it was starting to turn to twilight. The hammock was still out from the summer. Mom and I sometimes sat out here at sunset, sharing the hammock. Even with the dust from the “earthquake” at the school, the sight had never been more beautiful.

  “I’m worried,” I told Tristan.

  He didn’t say anything.

  I looked over and realized he had already fallen asleep.

  But I also noticed he had his hand on his shoulder, ready to grab the sword and call it to use.

  Chapter 24

  At two a.m. I heard the thumping of Tristan getting out of the hammock, followed by the ringing of his sword.

  I ran out to the porch and saw Tristan standing on the steps as streams of rats, mice, snakes, cats, and dogs came after him. They looked like perfectly ordinary animals, except that they had glowing red eyes and they were attacking Tristan en masse. Or was it the house itself they were after?

  When Tristan moved to the side, they would come after me, whoever was closest to the front porch. And they just kept coming, not seeming to feel any fear.

  “What are they?” I asked. I started to send fireballs at the animals. But then they got back up again, reanimated.

  A squirrel jumped right at my face and I had to beat it off before I remembered I could use a fireball at it. Even after it was dead, I kicked at it to get it out of the way. I was careful to kick at the other ones as soon as they fell dead from my fireballs, too.

  I shuddered at the stench that rose around the house, dead animals and fire combined. What was going on?

  I remembered Tristan telling me about the man who had gone to serve Gurmun even after he was dead.

  If that was what had happened to these creatures, there was no point in attacking them directly.

  My stomach clenched, and I thought carefully. Then I tried to focus my magic slightly differently. I made a wall of fire between me and Tristan and the animals. They threw themselves at the fire, but it kept them from getting too close to us—for now.

  “Why is Gurmun doing this?” I asked. “Does he think we’ll just get tired and let them kill us?”

  “I don’t know,” said Tristan. “Maybe he is just trying to distract us.”

  “Distract us from what?”

  Tristan’s eyes shone in the light of the sword. “From going back to Curvenal, where he is,” he said.

  Right. It was time to live up to what I’d promised. I’d told Tristan I would go back with him. There was no reason for us to wait any longer.

  “Let’s go, then,” I said.

  “But what about your mother? And Branna and Mark?” said Tristan.

  He was right. We couldn’t just leave them to be attacked by the animals.

  “I’ll wake up my mom. She can use a potion to protect her and Branna and Mark, and lay a magical poison around the

  house. Any creature that passes it will die.”

  “But what if many pass at once?”

  “I’ll leave up the fire wall,” I said. “For as long as I can, anyway.” I might not be able to concentrate on it once we got to Curvenal and the real battle started with Gurmun.

  “He will know we are coming,” said Tristan. “He will be prepared.”

  “Then so will we,” I said.

  When I told Mom everything, and she saw the animals behind the fire wall, she nodded and put her arm around me, tousling my hair. Then she let go and stood up straight.

  “I knew this day was coming,” she said. “The day I would have to say good-bye to you and trust you to be able to protect yourself. But I am glad that you will have Tris with you.”

  Her saying his name like that made me wonder if I should start calling him that, too. He said Tantris was his real name, but it was confusing because I had been thinking of him as Tristan for so long. Maybe “Tris
” would be a good compromise.

  “Wait,” Mom said as I turned. “The invincibility potion. You must take that first.” All these years, she had felt guilty because Dad had gone off without a working potion to fight Gurmun, and she would not let me do the same thing.

  “Good idea,” I said.

  She went inside and got a small bottle filled with clear, yellow liquid. “Drink half,” she said.

  I did. It didn’t taste too bad. There were hints of ginger and vinegar.

  Mom put her hands on my shoulders. “Kill him,” she said, a bloodthirsty look in her eye. “Kill him for your father.”

  “I will, Mom,” I said. “I love you.”

  “I love you, too.” She kissed me on the forehead, then nodded to Tristan. “Give the rest of the potion to him.”

  She went inside.

  Tristan drank the rest of the invincibility potion in one swallow, staring at the rampaging animals. I guess he was used to taking potions.

  “How long will it take us to get to Curvenal?” I asked.

  “Not long,” said Tristan, “with Excoriator.”

  I wasn’t sure what he meant, but I trusted him. He wrapped one arm around me and held the sword high with the other. We rose into the air, above the wall of fire. The animals beneath ignored us. Apparently, Gurmun had sent them to a location, not to a particular scent.

  At first, the sword took us at a nice pace, more like floating than flying. But the longer I held on to Tristan, the faster we went. I could see houses and farms speeding by beneath us, faster than if we were on an airplane. I suppose the sword protected us from things like birds flying into us. But it didn’t protect us from the rain cloud we flew through. We both came out of it soaking wet, and my hands hurt from holding on to Tristan so hard.

  By then, I could see mountains in front of us. They were maybe two hundred miles from Tintagel, and I tried to estimate how long it had taken us to get there. Thirty minutes, maybe?

  We dropped before we crested over the mountains, and I saw a lake beneath us. The mountains had snow on them already, and the lake looked awfully cold.

  “We’re not going to swim through that lake while we hold the sword, are we?” I asked. Was Curvenal a sunken city, like Atlantis? Was that how the magic had stayed so secret?

 

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