The Awakened World Boxed Set

by William Stacey

  "Mean?" he asked in confusion. The red trails in the air began to drift forward, like smoke rings, moving toward the stone portal. "It means you are as a star among dust, Angela. You were born for greatness. It means you take what you need from others, take everything."

  Now she could see an image form through the archway ... a pine forest. He's opening another gateway home, just like Ephix did. She stepped closer, her skin charged with the magical energy in the air. "That's my world."

  "The Portal Stones of Nevernight have many uses. Those with the power can create pathways to other realms, can even reach out and touch the minds of others through the portals. I used the stones to influence your own kind to seek you out for me, but I have also used the stones to learn about you, to discover the secrets Chararah and Ephix have hidden from you. I know you better than anyone now. I know everything about you."

  "If you're so powerful, why didn't you come in person?"

  "Because I cannot leave this realm, Angela. I am tied to it. I must work through others. Fortunately, your world is filled with weak-minded souls eager to betray their own for knowledge and power. I gave them a taste of this power, even brought a few here to teach them how to wield magic. In return, they looked for you."

  "You're talking of the Ferals," she said in sudden understanding. "They tried to capture me once."

  "And failed." His voice was filled with contempt.

  He lowered his spear, and fog drifted over the forest through the archway, fog so thick and dark it obscured everything. Tec was on the other side of that portal, she knew.

  "You need to let me go," she whispered.

  He faced her, his spearpoint now lowered to the ground. Where it touched the grass, smoke rose, curled around the gleaming red metal. "I will never let you go."

  "I don't belong here."

  "This is the only place you belong."

  Her emotions surged, and she screamed at him. "Damn you! Why show me my home if you won't let me go?"

  "Because you have to see the depths of the lies they have told you," he roared, dropping his spear to the ground and advancing on her, his eyes flashing. She took a step back, half drawing Nightfall from its sheath before he caught her wrist in a grip so hard that she feared he'd grind her bones. She cried out and released Nightfall's hilt, her fingers numb. "You dare draw a weapon against your lord? I have allowed too much."

  He grabbed her by the sword belt and yanked her toward him. She was helpless against him. In moments, he untied her sword belt and pulled it free, discarding it behind him contemptuously. She felt the heat of his anger radiating from him but glared up at him, refusing to back down. No matter what came next, she'd face it with courage.

  "Go to hell."

  "They lie to you, yet I’m the villain?" He sighed, dragging her over to the archway and setting her solidly before the fog-shrouded opening.

  "What—"

  "I'm sorry, Angela," he whispered, his hands on her shoulders holding her in place. He leaned in and placed his lips near her ear. "Nothing hurts more than the truth."

  The fog parted.

  Chapter 25

  As the fog dissipated, Angie saw a clearing she knew well, near Char’s home in the ruins of Fresno. Standing in front of the woods was Char and Ephix, as well as dozens of Fey, all armed and armored, with the bright sunlight flashing from spear points and sword blades.

  "What is this?" Angie whispered in confusion. She had watched Char die.

  Lodin kept his grip on her shoulders, holding her in place from behind. "The past. Watch."

  The woods behind Char were filled with other Fey, all armed. Char wore plate and chain mail armor with her hexed rapier strapped to her waist, her bat wings quivering with excitement. Ephix wore her human form, a young plain woman with long brown hair, wearing only a simple toga, but in moments, Ephix could become a monster more terrible than any armored Fey. The other Fey—elves, trolls, hobgoblins, water hags, even fairies—glared at the human soldiers across the clearing.

  The soldiers, dozens of them clumped together, wore camouflaged clothing, with load-bearing vests, helmets, and body armor. They carried assault rifles but kept the barrels pointing at the ground, not at the Fey. A half dozen HMM-V vehicles sat behind the soldiers.

  One of the soldiers stepped out from the others and removed his Kevlar helmet, handing it to an aide. It was Duncan Marshal, she realized, but younger, much younger. He was still bald, his head shining in the sunlight, but his posture was strong, his shoulders wide. He walked out into the clearing with another of his men, both unarmed.

  Char and Ephix stepped forward to meet them. The four faced one another in the center of the clearing. The view through the portal, controlled by Lodin’s magic, followed them, coming to a stop only feet away.

  "Char?" Angie reached forward, her heart aching at the sight of her adopted mother.

  She was too far away to touch, and Lodin's grip on her shoulders tightened. "The ghosts of the past cannot hear you," he whispered. "Chararah Succubus has gone to the underworlds. What you see now, what you hear now, is only a memory—although it can still cut like a sword."

  "I'm here, man," Char said to Marshal in a voice that communicated her desire to be anywhere else. "What do you wish?"

  "An end to the fighting," Marshal answered.

  Ephix snorted. "Fighting you began."

  Marshal's eyes narrowed, but he kept his calm. "Who started what doesn't matter anymore, if it ever did. There's been more than enough blood spilled, human and Fey. There's no point to it. There are so few of us left."

  "We've only fought to defend ourselves," Char answered coldly. "You've killed far more of your own kind than we ever could. I've seen the fields filled with the dead, vast stinking corpse mounds that stretch forever. A thousand years from now, the ground will still be damp with the blood you've spilled. Your cities burn, your machinery lies dormant, your nations evaporate like smoke … as well as any trace of kindness." She shook her head. "Your kind knows only death."

  "We're rebuilding. We want peace."

  "Peace." Char laughed. "Your words are ash. Why should we believe anything you say?"

  "Because the dragon sent us."

  Now Char and Ephix stiffened. Char glanced at Ephix, a hint of worry in her eyes. "It's true then? He's awake?"

  Ephix ground her teeth, her limbs trembling with anger. "First they break the Fey Sleep, forcing us from the Hollows, exposing us to humans, and now they wish to order us about like thralls. It is too much, I say. Too much."

  "What does that one care if we slaughter one another?" Char asked.

  "He's always cared," Marshal said sadly. "He warned us of the Awakening, helped us prepare for it. Now he's helping us rebuild."

  Char snorted. "In whose image? Be careful, man. Never bargain with a dragon."

  "He wants peace between humanity and Fey—a Concord he called it."

  "A Concord?" Ephix's voice rose, her dark eyes shining. "After what his kind did to us, he'd—"

  Without looking, Char placed her palm atop Ephix's forearm, and the lamia looked away angrily. "Tell us, man, what does the great Quetzalcoatl wish?"

  Quetzalcoatl? The dragon, Tec's master, had been the true architect of the Concord, not Marshal, never Marshal. It was as if the ground had opened beneath Angie’s feet. What else had she been wrong about?

  "You take this land, the remains of Fresno, as your own. Your people live here. You keep to yourselves, and we'll do the same in our protected zone to the south." His gaze snapped to Ephix, and this time Angie saw fear flash in his eyes. He knows what she is. "The ... attacks on humans have to stop. No more ... feeding."

  "We must feed to live, man," Ephix said scornfully. "Sooner ask yourself to stop breathing."

  "Then you prey on others, not my people, no one within the protected zone. There will be walled settlements soon. These are to be left alone."

  "Go on," Char said. "What are you holding back? Why are you really here?"

&nbs
p; Marshal hesitated, drew in a long breath, and then turned and made a "come on" motion with his arm. The door to one of the HMM-Vs opened, and a young woman climbed out. She wore the same camouflaged uniform as the soldiers but was unarmed and wore a white cross on an armband, a medic. She helped a child out of the vehicle, a brown-haired girl of perhaps five years of age. The medic, wearing long rubber gloves, took the girl's hand and led her forward to join Marshal, stopping right behind him. The girl, Angie saw, was small for her age, her eyes vacant, as if she were drugged.

  A shock of recognition coursed through Angie.

  The child was her.

  This ... this wasn't possible. She had been ten when she had accompanied Nathan to Char's school. Nathan had been fourteen. They had been the first of Char's human students, followed soon after by other children who had displayed the ability to wield magic. Dozens of them.

  "I don't understand," Angie said. "What ... how?"

  "Watch and learn the truth, Angela," Lodin whispered.

  Char stared at the child, her eyes softening. "What is this? Why bring one of your—" Char gasped, stepping back a pace. "A source mage? How?"

  Ephix hissed, placing herself in front of Char, her eyes all black, her limbs beginning to lengthen, grow fur, her fingertips becoming claws. "You dare? Keep that abomination away!"

  The soldiers and Fey watching stiffened in alarm. Rifle barrels and spears rose.

  Marshal placed himself between the young Angie and Ephix, his palms up defensively. "Please, she's not dangerous. Only if you make skin-to-skin contact, and only sometimes. Only when she loses control."

  "Oh, make no mistake," Ephix said with venom. "That thing is dangerous all the time. We know all too well what she is and what she is capable of. Never again. Not here, not on this world too."

  Char put a hand on Ephix's shoulder and gently drew her back, whispering into her ear. From the anger rippling through Ephix's face, it took all her will, but she acquiesced, her limbs transforming back into a human woman's once more. Char stepped closer to the child, watching her as if she were a coiled snake. The girl slid behind the nurse, her arms around her leg.

  "It's been a thousand years since this world has seen another source mage," Char said in wonder. "And here we are, with the Fey Sleep broken less than a year, a source mage appears. Amidst all this death and destruction, a new star rises. Will she burn us all, I wonder?"

  Marshal swallowed nervously and cleared his throat. "The dragon told us you could help her, teach her to control the magic."

  "Perhaps," Char said evenly, considering the child. "But such power needs to be restrained somehow—at least until she learns control. If she can ever learn to control such a thing. We only know of one other source mage, and he never even tried to master his gift … or his greed."

  "Sister, no," hissed Ephix. "This is not another of your stray animals. She might destroy us both. Worse, what if he learns of her?"

  "He cannot come here," Char answered. "This world is denied to him." She slipped forward, her gaze locked on the child's face, and she smiled, allowing her wings to expand.

  The child—her—stared at the wings in wonder. "Are you an angel?" she asked in a timid voice, speaking for the first time.

  "An angel?" Char shook her head. "Hardly." Then before anyone could stop her, she removed her armored glove, let it fall to the grass, and caressed the child's face with her fingertips. Everyone held their breath, including the adult Angie. Nothing happened, not even when the child reached up and touched Char’s hand with her fingers.

  Char smiled, her eyes shining. "So, she can control it. Interesting." She took the child's hand in hers, pulled her out from behind the nurse's leg. "Come, young one. Stand with me. What are you called?"

  "Angie. Angela," the child whispered, moving away from the nurse. She kept Char's hand in her own.

  "So you are the angel, not I." Char smiled and then looked to Marshal, her face suddenly hard again. "Very well, man. You will have your peace, and the dragon’s will be done. There will be a Concord."

  "And the child?" Marshal asked. "I promised her father."

  "She will live here with me, my own daughter. If she can be taught control, we will do so."

  "There's ... things you need to know about her. Things she's ... there's been an incident."

  Char nodded, blinking once in agreement. "There always are when dealing with such power."

  Marshal sighed wearily, running his hand back over his bald head, looking both relieved and guilty. "There ... there are other children who can do ... things. The dragon said you could help."

  Ephix groaned, but Char nodded slowly. "They can touch magic now. They'll die without shades. Kill themselves or others."

  "Not our concern, sister," Ephix said.

  "Not so, sister. Our kind cast the Fey Sleep all those years ago. Now humans have no natural protection against the return of magic. It must be like a tidal wave that threatens to wash them away. No, we did this to them."

  "To protect ourselves until we had the strength to go home again."

  Char snorted. "This is our home now, sister. And we must make amends for what we have done." She considered Marshal for several long moments. "Bring your mage children to me. I will bond them with shades and teach them enough magic so that they do not kill themselves. In return, you will leave us in peace."

  "Deal," said Marshal, extending his hand.

  Char took it, gripping his forearm.

  Marshal removed something from his pocket and handed it to Char. "Give her this. Tell her it came from her father. Maybe it should have gone with her older brother but … well, too late for that now. He'd ... he'd want her to have it."

  Char nodded and took Angie’s father's watch from Marshal, the heirloom that meant so much to Angie.

  Lodin leaned forward, whispering in Angie’s ear. "And so was born your Concord."

  "I don't understand any of this. It makes no sense."

  "For that, we must go back further yet."

  The fog rushed back in, concealing Char and Marshal, and the child-Angie. When it cleared again, it revealed Quetzalcoatl's underground lair, his Black Pool. Marshal stood at the lake's edge with the child lying curled up near his feet, her young face devoid of emotion, her eyes empty. The dragon's huge serpentine head and neck rose out of the water thirty feet above. A red flare burned on the stony ground, painting the scene red.

  The adult Angie swayed in place on the other side of the portal, her confusion complete. "I ... I was here before?" she whispered. "Why don't I remember?"

  "Watch," Lodin spoke into her ear, his breath warm on her neck, his strong fingers gripping her shoulders.

  "Please," Marshal said, raising his arms to the dragon in supplication. "Help her. I owe her father. You have to help her." His voice broke with emotion, jarringly at odds with the normally granite military leader.

  "A child belongs with its mother," the dragon said, its deep voice booming throughout the underground cavern. "Not a dragon. Even a child such as her."

  "Her mother won't take her. She's afraid of her, refuses to even look at her after ... after what..." His voice trailed off and he shook his head. "She's gone, taken her boy and fled, leaving her with me, but I can’t help her. We keep her medicated, but she won't eat, won't drink … won’t even speak. No one wants to take responsibility for her. Everyone's afraid of her."

  Angie gasped. It felt as if a hand tightened around her heart, squeezing it. She stared in disbelief: Her mother was alive? And so was her brother? "But … but they died in the Food Wars. I know they died..."

  "No. They didn’t. This man lied to you," Lodin answered, his voice hard. "Everyone you've ever known has lied to you. But me."

  "I cannot help her," the dragon said. "There are others of my kind who would strike at me through her. If they were to learn what she was, the Twin Deaths would stop at nothing to cut her heart out. No, she is not safe with me. Bring her to the druid. Only she can help."

 
; "Please," Marshal pleaded. "She's ... she can't live like this, not with the knowledge of what she's done."

  What did I do? Angie began to pant, to hyperventilate, her heart beating like crazy. Spikes of pain coursed through her chest.

  "Calm yourself," Lodin whispered, his hand moving over her shoulder to rest against the skin over her pounding heart. To her surprise, she did calm. Her breathing did settle.

  The dragon lowered its massive head, darting forward so quickly Marshal fell back. The child remained still, lying on her side, seeing nothing. The dragon considered her, sniffed her hair. "This much, this little mercy, my magic can do." The dragon's thunderous voice softened. Then its huge eyes flared with eldritch power, a blue glow that blinded the adult-Angie. The child screamed, and then her cry petered out to a sob, and then a gasp.

  Once more the fog rolled in.

  "I ... what just happened?" she asked Lodin.

  "Dragon magic," he answered. "The wyrm hid the truth from you, wiped your mind of it."

  "What truth? What did I do?"

  The fog parted on a new scene.

  Angie watched the five-year-old version of herself lying on a bed in near darkness. The only light was a sliver of daylight coming through the nearly closed blinds over a window above her bed. Even in the dimness, Angie could tell it was a hospital room, or like a hospital room, almost a cell. There was nothing in the room but the metal bed, the thin mattress, not even a blanket. The child wore pajamas with cartoon characters on them and lay on her back, her tiny wrists and ankles strapped to the bed so she couldn’t move, couldn’t even sit up. Her face was streaked from dirt and dried tears. Her hair was disheveled, little more than a tangle of knots. A whiteboard tacked to the wall next to the window identified this place as the Naval Air Station Lemoore Infirmary. Her name and age were written on the whiteboard, as well as the underlined instructions: "Don't touch this child's skin without protection. Some form of contact infection." The handwriting was little more than a barely legible scrawl.

  "This is all wrong," Angie told Lodin. "I've never … this never..."