When it came down to it, my town was small- isolated, unimportant. The magical presence was miniscule and consisted of not much more than ten or so mages, and that was just a random guess on our part. It hit hard when a shark swam toward us for the first time… and like a school of fish, we panicked and scattered… and people got hurt.
"Nick, study."
I blinked at the sound of Eliza's voice, shaken from my melancholy memories and looked down at the page of my Bio book I had been on for the past twenty minutes. It was Thursday, a day short of a week after the day that Emily Albright had died. We were currently away from our usual niche at the UGL, in an out of the way study room on the second floor of the SEL- the Science and Engineering Library. With four very white walls only marred in continuity by the solid wooden door, it was a lot more private than the UGL study rooms that were usually horded by students anyways. It also helped that the SEL saw nowhere near the same amount of foot traffic.
But despite the benefits, it felt too isolated. I turned the page of my book with a silent sigh and began to underline the important information on the next page of the chapter. It was boring work, but taking it a page at a time seemed to help immensely. Never get behind, that was the best policy and advice I had received so far.
This morning I had been faced with my first test since the disastrous biology exam. Classical Civilizations was a basic introductory course that was required for all majors. For all intents and purposes, it was an easy class that should be an easy A. My major problem with it was the fact that it took place at half past eight in the morning and was an hour and a half long. Frankly I didn't know what I was thinking when I picked it, I loved sleeping in.
My disjointed and hastily scrawled notes weren't going to cut it for the exam. I basically went on hands and knees to Eric, one of my classmates, to beg for his well-written notes, which I unashamedly took pictures of. I studied straight off of those for three days and was pleasantly surprised by how easy the actual exam was. For the next test I promised myself and my bemused classmate that I would take my own notes. I don't think Eric believed me, but he was nice enough not to challenge me on it. I meant it though, just because I would eat crow and beg to get square in a class didn't mean I liked doing it.
Now it was back to focusing on Bio, playing catch up to make up for the three days I spent deciphering my printed pictures copies of Eric's Classical Civ notes. Jimmy sat typing away on his laptop across from me, and Eliza was chipping away at her own solid pile of notes with a quiet determination that I hoped to one day be able to match.
Nishtha was in her Microbiology class. As a pre-pharmacy freshman student she shared a lot of the same class requirements as Eliza or me, but AP credit placed her above us when it came to Biology classes, something that irked Eliza who muttered something about having a crappy AP Bio teacher- excuses, excuses.
Still it left the three of us alone for the moment, and that three quickly became two, when five minutes later, Eliza began to pack away her book, highlighters, and laptop.
"Bored of us already?" I quipped lightheartedly as I struck another blue line beneath a sentence I deemed important.
"Going back to my dorm to get dressed for the memorial, I'm a mess."
Today was the school's public memorial service for Emily Albright. Attendance wasn't mandatory, but the four of us had agreed to attend. Plus, it seemed right to be present. Eliza, Jimmy and I had all been in the vicinity when it happened. I had casually asked Eliza about her angle of view when Emily had been shot- but she wasn't able to provide me with anything new. She heard the gunshot and saw Emily fall in her periphery- but nothing else. Absolutely no sign of any shooter even though she had been even closer to the crime than I had been.
I pursed my lips into a frown, tilting my head at her. I didn't really understand what she meant by 'a mess.' Dressed in sweatpants and sweatshirt with her kinked brown hair pulled back in a ruffled sort of ponytail I supposed she wouldn't be setting the world on fire- but so what? I dressed similarly all the time… minus the ponytail, of course. I told her as much.
She rolled her eyes and muttered something that sounded very much like "Guys are idiots," as she walked out, leaving Jimmy and I alone with complete privacy, something that didn't happen very often.
"Looks like trouble in paradise to me." Jimmy said dryly without looking away from whatever he was working on, "I think she's gonna break up with you soon."
"Ha ha." I deadpanned; the running joke that Eliza was my girlfriend was a steadily repeated one in the past week, despite her quite vehement denial to Nishi when she made the mistake of tentatively broaching the subject.
I didn't understand why she was so against the idea- I wasn't that bad, was I?
Not that it really mattered; Eliza was in love with her books and studying to ever be interested in me. I had never considered her more than a friend and didn't think I ever would. Her personality was still a bit standoffish even now. I firmly believed that it was possible for a guy and girl to just be friends- though the line was invisible and hard to draw- and easily mutable, because people changed their minds all the time.
Still, possible.
"I figured out the words, by the way." Jimmy announced casually, ten minutes later.
I looked up from my notes to stare at him. I didn't have to ask what words he was talking about. "Really? And you didn't mention this before… why?"
Swann shrugged, "It took me a couple days, and I wanted to really be sure I fully understood what the message was saying. I don't want to mention to Nishi that we're looking into this, and your girlfriend is always around too. Plus… I don't know man; I have a bad feeling that we're sticking our noses into something that we have no business in."
"Just tell me." I demanded, annoyed he'd been keeping it from me, "We're supposed to be partners. Maybe you don't know what that means, but that means when you promise me you're going to find something, you tell me when you find it."
"Temper." James replied sardonically. In that moment of pressure between us I was suddenly reminded that this 'friendship' began as a partnership, nothing more. Whatever had been built on top of it was as fluid and ever-changing as water- and could evaporate very quickly if things got hot.
After another long moment of silence between us, Swann adjusted his glasses, something I noticed he did whenever he started to say something he thought was particularly smart.
"I ran the words through basic translators and got their general meaning. 'Et in Fraternitatis Ego,' best as I can tell it roughly translates to 'Even in brotherhood, I am there.' I took a few general leaps in logic when going from Latin, since it doesn't sound right in the direct translation."
"It took a couple days to get that?" I scoffed, "I thought you were some sort of genius."
He rolled his shoulders again, "Your words not mine, dude." Jimmy replied mildly, "But that wasn't really what took so long. The translation didn't really tell me much other than the fact that we're probably looking for a fraternity if we want to find Archanos, and that was something we already suspected. I wanted to try and figure out who the hell 'I am there' in the translation referred to. That took longer. At first I thought it referred to a person, but then I found this."
Swann turned his laptop around and came to take a seat next to me. My eyes scanned a Wikipedia page that he had opened, "Et in Arcadia Ego." I read the title, "A painting by Nicolas Poussin."
"Right. Look at this." Jimmy highlighted a line of text with his mousepad to draw my attention to it.
I read aloud, "The literal word-for-word translation of the phrase is 'And in Arcadia I am there,' 'I' being death, and 'Arcadia' being understood as a utopian land." I stared down the words, thinking aloud, "So 'I' in the murderer's message can be taken to mean death as well. Brotherhood… Emily Albright was in a sorority, a sisterhood, obviously not a coincidence."
"Nope," Swann cross his arms and leaned back in his seat, "I also have been thinking, brotherhood was the replaced for Arcadia
in the translation… maybe they're both supposed to represent utopian land. The perfect place, the perfect society."
I got what he was trying to say, "Even in the Archanos society, a perfect society, there is death."
Jimmy nodded gravely, "Utopia can only be reclaimed when imperfections are removed… so death is necessary."
"You mean murder." I replied bluntly, angered, "So Emily Albright died because she didn't agree with Archanos for some reason that we still don't know."
"More than that," Jimmy disagreed, "Her death wasn't quietly done, it was left in the open with a magical message meant to spread to others- others like her. Dissenters; this will be you."
"That's sick." I said in disgust, "And we're going to join these people?"
With a sigh, James rose to move back to his seat, "What other choice do we have? That's why we're here. Covens… you know the rumors, they aren't nice a lot of the times. To survive, you can't show weakness. Dissent among the ranks… it's dealt with, harshly."
"You want to expose Nishi to these people?"
He was visibly angered by that barb, something I hadn't seen from him before.
"Look," Swann replied harshly, "Sometimes you have choices in life and that's great. Other times- you don't, and that sucks but you have to move forward anyways. Nishi understands that more than anyone, Stratus." Jimmy looked visibly pained by the notion, and I wondered if I struck a nerve, "I should have just kept quiet about this. You want to find the guy who did this, don't you?"
"Of course." I replied without pause, "You don't want to? He killed someone who didn't deserve to die."
"How do you know she didn't?" Jimmy demanded, arms crossed.
I could recall her wide grin; arms linked with two friends, caught in a moment of joy captured forever in a photo- the likes of it never to be seen again. Not in this world. How many times had I stared at it in the past week, wondering why anyone would want to destroy such happiness? The malicious intent I had felt behind the taunting magical warning left behind had been pungent, noticeable in its malevolence even when I had no idea what the words meant.
"She didn't deserve it." My instincts insisted, "I'm sure of it."
Swann gave me one long, hard look, before groaning into the palms of his hands, "I can't believe it. You're in love with a dead girl. You're going to risk everything to go up against people who have years of experiences over you. Well I don't want any part of it, you hear me? If you go down, I wasn't in on this stupidity."
I gave him smile that wasn't so nice. "Yeah, I hear you." Then I looked down at my book again as if nothing had happened at all.
Something had happened, though. Jimmy may have very well been the best friend I had here, but he wasn't going to stick his neck out for me, and definitely not for some girl he didn't know from Eden. I didn't hate him for it; I could understand that need for self-preservation.
But Jimmy didn't know everything about me. Yeah, I wasn't used to this whole studying thing, but that didn't mean I was stupid. I understood the depth of power I was going to be playing with, and if I did this wrong, I could end up buried… but my rationale still held. A girl was dead and I didn't believe she deserved to die, and if I went the same way, I would want someone to do it for me.
Back in Virginia when I had been over my head, someone had stuck their neck out on the line to lend me a helping hand. They didn't have to, but because they did I was still alive today. It was a debt I couldn't repay and they hadn't wanted payment anyways. That kind of self-sacrifice was something I had never seen before and probably wasn't likely to see again.
I would have never done that before. Help someone who was drowning in their own mistakes, diving in without thought to make sure they made it out just because it was the right thing to do. It was a dimension of being human that I had never known before, simply doing the right thing just because it was right.
It needed to be done slowly, because in many ways Jimmy was correct about the situation. It would be beyond me to go charging in and demanding answers expecting to come out of it alive. I had to play it smart. If I did it right, hopefully, I would be able to help put a dead girl to peace.
111
There are certain moments in all our lives that pass us by without seeming significant at the time. Later, sometimes very much so, in an instant of reminiscence we realize that those moments have defined our lives in a way we could never imagine at the time.
It could be a certain person met on a certain day, one that may turn into a lifelong friend or lifelong enemy. It could also be some decision or small epiphany, a thing of little consequence that turned out to be earth-shattering later. We don't know the ramifications of our actions sometimes until years later.
Emily's memorial service contained several such moments for me.
It took place in the huge courtyard located in the very center of campus, less than a hundred feet from the UGL and various other buildings. The large fountain that ran all summer and into the fall had been turned off and a stage had been erected at the forefront of the courtyard. Rows upon rows of somber grey chairs had been shoved together as close as possible to face the platform, which was occupied by several people of noticeable importance.
I recognized Dean Strauss, bespectacled and bow-tied, he seemed different out of his usual brown tweed, which he had replaced with a more suitable black formal jacket, leaving him looking like a particularly old teenager attending prom. I vaguely recognized a few of the others, the man in the middle was President Allen, and I think one of the older women next to him was a Dean as well. That pretty much summed up my weak knowledge of my school's staff.
For someone playing at detective, I wasn't very good at learning stuff that was probably important.
A well-dressed couple seemed set apart from the others at the corner of the platform, despite the fact that the stage chairs were placed at neat equal distances in a single row. I recognized after a moment it was the pure sincerity of the grief they portrayed that set them apart. The woman was leaning against the man, whose dark eyes stared off into space, looking at nothing in particular. That was not to say that the others weren't looking somber, but their faces lacked the depth of sorrow that these two had.
She looks like Emily, I thought, staring at the trembling woman who was unaware of my gaze. They could only be her parents.
Jimmy and I had come together and took seats near the back when we couldn't immediately spot Nishi or Eliza, though he kept peering around at the various students, no doubt looking for a sign of Nishi's straight black hair amongst the throng.
I ignored his attempts; feeling a bit underdressed in only long jeans and a dark sweater. There had been no mandatory dress code lain out in the email sent to the students, but many had at least made an attempt to look nice. Several had gone as far enough to dress in full formal attire. I was very glad that I had decided not to wear bright red in the morning; it had been a very close decision.
Despite being ten minutes early, the crowd had nearly surpassed the number of chairs available and I could see more trickling into the courtyard even now. Faces swirled in and out of my vision without any rhyme or reason as I swung my gaze back and forth slowly attempting to take in the sea of people who had come to attend the memorial service of a girl they probably never knew. I certainly recognized almost no one.
It was ignorance that allowed me to worry only about how I was dressed. That moment, the memorial service, wasn't significant to me. The faces around me meant nothing; I hadn't yet realized the significance the Emily's death held. Unbeknownst to me, I was surrounded by more mages at that memorial service than I had ever known up to that point in my life.
What happened, only a second later, changed that.
Imagine a single pluck of a guitar string, not particularly well tuned but loud enough to ring through the silent air to brush against your eardrums with ease. Now imagine that sound is something only you can hear, and with it comes the emotions that accompanied the action of plucking th
e string… that was how I perceived the first subtle push on the intangible magical field.
Now understand, a very skilled mage can manipulate magic within a spherical field of perhaps one hundred feet- at my current skill level as a freshman I had the ability to work with maybe a tenth of that at my best. That being said, the ability to sense magic being used nearby is a much larger range, for the sole reason that much like the air vibrations that allow one to hear sound, magic is pushed and pulled in buffeting waves, travelling outwards in all directions, but growing weaker and weaker as it becomes more distant from the mage- its source.
That same very skilled mage could have the ability to sense magic done easily within hundredsof feet- the possibility of miles wasn't unheard of. The courtyard wasn't more than a few hundred feet in any direction, only a complete novice wouldn't have been able to sense the deliberate gesture. That being said, finding the exact source would be impossible amongst the hundreds of bodies packed in one area.
A single pluck, measured and calculated… but it was the echo of emotion that accompanied the gesture that made me angry.
Amusement, satisfaction… justice.
I glanced at Jimmy and found he was looking right back at me, eyebrows raised in surprise. Before I could say anything to him, I felt another pluck thrum against my skin.
Acceptance, resignation, understanding.
Another.
Outrage, vehemence-
Yet another. They began to come so fast, like dozens of voices all crying out to be heard all at once. I sensed that they were defying each other, a cacophony of emotions beating with a strange cadence against my conscious mind.
Denial-
Rage-
Fear-
Hatred-
Malice-
Rebelliousness-
The squabbling twangs were akin to a crowd was fighting over the guitar, grappling over it to play a single note, different with every person and coming from a different direction every time. I lost count of the number of times I felt the emotional reverberations bang against my psyche in an almost eclectic melody, but I was sure it had been at least thirty. Some had come from the same people, no doubt, but the sheer number unique in origin was overwhelming. It had to be at least ten different people, ten different mages in one small area at a single time.
Mage of Shadows Page 8
