by RJ Crayton
I shook my head. “None at all. I haven’t been able to do any magic since arriving.”
He raised an eyebrow
“I mean, except what I did to you.”
He took a step back. “So you only have working magic that tosses me around?”
I laughed. “I don’t think it’s just you. I think I was frustrated at having so little work for me that it seeped out.”
He put a hand to his chin. “You used to do magic, when you were little.”
“I’ve heard,” I admitted. “But I haven’t done magic on purpose since my mother took me from the temple to protect me. So it’s all dormant and won’t come out.”
“Except with me,” he said, his intonation hinting it was a question.
I wasn’t sure. “I guess we’ll see,” I said. I stood the ketesh I was using on its end. Jasper took a small wad from a pocket inside his robe, and I watched as it extended to a full staff, as was the custom of most keteshes. The loaners were always in a state to do magic, and I wondered if not having my own staff would somehow impede me. My ketesh was taller than me, at five feet even. Its girth fit nicely in my hand, though.
“You ready to get started?” he asked.
I wasn’t. I felt hesitant about trying magic in front of him. Fear of failure percolated in my mind. “Thanks for earlier,” I said. “I appreciate you sharing your private memories with me. I hope I wasn’t too demanding by asking for more. I’m sure it’s difficult to see your parents again, knowing they’re gone. ”
He shook his head. “It was fine. I like seeing my parents. I’m glad my mom made so many memory crystals and that I get to see her again sometimes,” he said. “I mean, they’re a part of me, and if I see my mom or my dad or both of them, it helps me remember who I am and who I want to be. It reminds me that I should make them proud, even though they’re not here.”
I was surprised. His response was so mature, and just the opposite of what I’d chosen. I’d been doing everything I could to not think about my aunt, to not miss her, to avoid memories of her so I could avoid the pain. The fact that he embraced the memories seemed odd. “But you …” I started, and then I remembered myself. It wasn’t really my business to ask him so many questions. Too many questions brought unwanted attention, Auntie had always said.
“But I what?” he asked.
I hesitated, wondering if I really should ask. I wasn’t with Auntie anymore, and he looked like he genuinely wanted to know what I’d planned to ask. I figured I should just say it. “It just seemed like you didn’t want to show me more memories, like you’d had second thoughts.”
He laughed. “I …” he paused, and surveyed the garden around us, as if looking for spies. “It’s just, as you were watching, I just realized that I looked kind of ridiculous and I was hoping I could scan through and find a memory with you where I didn’t look as awkward.”
I could feel my eyebrows squishing together as I tried to figure out what exactly his concern was. “You were an adorable toddler.”
“Who tripped and fell.”
“While levitating a ball,” I said, still impressed.
“And then a girl younger than me opened a portal into my room.”
I shook my head. “And that same girl can’t even levitate a vase now.”
He frowned and shook his head. “Don’t get down,” he said. “Maybe glyphs are your breakthrough. And they’re way easier than portals.”
I wasn’t so sure. Everything here felt complicated. With glyphs, I at least understood the basic concept: a symbol to convey and amplify your magic. I looked up at Jasper. “So glyph sparkles are just blinding magic?” I asked, wanting to make sure I was remembering them correctly from Master Shanzu’s lecture the previous day.
“Yes,” he said. “Mages all have magic in them, and our keteshes can amplify that magic. The glyphs can help the magic travel farther and faster and be more focused. Glyphs work best for battles because that’s when you want concentrated, precision-directed magic. While keteshes are helpful, you can actually perform glyphs without them. But doing too much of it can drain you, make you weak. It’s best, for a battle, to have your ketesh available.”
I tried not to grimace as I thought of Auntie, who had no ketesh when she faced Zygam, and who used glyphs to hide me before she faced him.
Jasper put a hand on my shoulder. “You alright?”
I forced a smile. “I’m fine,” I said. “Thanks for the overview.” I meant that last part. I was glad for his brief summary. Certain things I seemed to inherently understand here. While I conceptually understood glyphs, the idea of actually performing them intimidated me. Whatever was hidden inside my mind, I didn’t think mastery of glyph magic was part of it.
“And the sparkle glyphs create an ultra-bright shine that will temporarily blind the opponent?”
“Yes, so we have to be careful,” he said. He still had a small bag on his shoulder. He reached inside, pulled out two pairs of glasses with dark lenses, and handed me a pair. “Master Shanzu gave us these to wear. They’re protection glasses.”
I put them on and the sunny, bright world dimmed. “If we’re wearing these, how will we know if our glyphs worked?”
“Glyph sparkle will look green under these lenses. If it’s green, we’ve done it. If not, then we haven’t.”
It made sense.
Another sheepish look at me. “Did you want to go first?”
I shook my head. “No, I’d like to watch you and get a feel for it.”
He didn’t look pleased but he nodded. “The glyph symbol we need for this to work is Inn-Shi,” he said. He took his ketesh and in the air wrote a symbol that sort of looked like two squiggly lines that converged on each other. They sparkled in the air and then disappeared. That wasn’t him actually using the symbol. Teachers sometimes used their ketesh to produce writing that lingered in the air. I hadn’t actually seen a student do it before. I was kind of amazed at his ease with magic.
And this time when he smiled at me it wasn’t bashful; it was proud. “Ready?” he asked.
I nodded and watched as he used the symbol to create several sparks in the sky above us. None glowed green though, which made me think that sparkle glyphs were even harder to create than I’d originally thought.
“I think I’ve tried enough,” he said, after his sixth failed attempt. He’d gotten it to sparkle in the air. It had just failed to glow green under the glasses.
I sighed and stepped forward, raising the ketesh that wasn’t mine. I closed my eyes, concentrated on the idea of glyph sparkles and whispered “Inn-Shi.” I opened my eyes, and looked up, hopeful. But nothing.
I felt the blush of embarrassment on my face, and decided to try again. This time I concentrated harder and said the glyph louder. I looked up, hoping to see it shine in the air before disintegrating and then see the green glow of the blinding sparkle or even just a general red or purple or yellow sparkle. But nothing.
Jasper offered a soft smile. “Don’t worry about it,” he said. “Trying to force magic never works.”
I glared at him. I was tired of hearing people tell me that. “You don’t understand,” I said to him, though I wasn’t sure if that was true or not. I had no idea how much Pylum had told Jasper about me when he’d told him we’d be partners. I looked him in the eye, and spoke firmly. “I have to get this. Every day I fail, my aunt is in danger.”
He opened his mouth slightly, as if he planned to speak, but then shut it again.
I looked through the open doorway to a clock on the wall. The class was almost over. “We should just go in,” I said
I turned to head back in and felt a hand on my arm. “Try one more time,” Jasper said. I turned back to tell him no, but he started speaking before I could open my mouth. “This time, think about your aunt.”
“Trapped and in distress?” I said. “That won’t help.”
“No, not how she is now. Think of her as she was. Think of her when the two of you were happy. We’re
mages of light, Kadirah,” he said. “Our magic comes from the light inside of us. For me, my parents were a big part of my light, and when they died …”
His voice died in his throat there, and he paused a moment. Long enough for me to feel guilty at forcing a painful subject.
“For a while after they died, I couldn’t do any magic. It was lost to me, and I realized that it was because I was trying to forget everything that made me hurt. But I was also forgetting everything that made me happy, too. As difficult as things are now,” he said, his blue eyes staring right at me, “you still have those happinesses that you remember. Those feelings that make you want to get up in the morning. Find those happy times with your aunt, and try your magic from that place.” His eyes were locked on mine, practically willing me to believe him.
I did. He was right. I knew it as he said it. I needed to focus on Auntie to hone my magic. She’d locked it, yes. But by driving her out, I’d also somehow hindered it. I nodded my head, closed my eyes, and thought of Auntie. I thought about how much I loved her, and allowed myself to really feel. Ever since I’d been here, I’d been trying to shove the idea of Auntie captured, of Auntie in terrible danger, deep down inside. I figured that the less I thought about it, the better I’d be. But that was wrong. I needed to embrace the love, as well as the longing, in order to tap into that part of me that was trapped. All the times my magic had escaped had been times when I was emotionally honest.
I took a deep breath and let whatever feelings of happiness I could dredge up from the times Auntie and I were together overwhelm me. I needed a blinding light. I held out my ketesh and said, “Inn-shi.” I felt a wave of … I’m not sure how to describe it other than to say, power, travel through my arm and into the ketesh. I opened my eyes and looked up to see the symbol blaze in the air, and then sparks almost like fireworks streaming down. They were a hazy blue through the shades. I smiled. It wasn’t the green I needed, but it was more than I’d done since I’d been here.
Finally, I’d done it. I’d unleashed the magic inside on command.
Chapter 9 - Another Plane
It had been a week since my epiphany, and my magic was actually flowing more regularly. In classes, I could do the things I was asked to do and I was improving rapidly. The things I’d once been a failure at, I was doing with ease.
Today was a day of rest. No classes. Just time for me to sit and meditate and reflect. At least, that’s what the teachers suggested.
I lay on my bed staring up at the ceiling. It was a mural of billowy white clouds across a blue sky. It had been a good week. My magic was returning, though not my memories. Akilah seemed to think I was investing too much in the idea of memories. “You were four,” she said. “I don’t remember very much from when I was four, so it’s not like you’re going to get all this great knowledge.”
She was probably right that the memories would be loose at best. But I hoped there’d be some memories of my mother. I had such a warm feeling when I saw her in other people’s memories — Pylum’s and Jasper’s. I wanted to have that feeling in my own recollections. I wanted recollections like I had with Auntie. Of her saying she loved me when I went to bed. Of her telling me stories. And even though it seemed unlikely, I wanted to see my father. He’d died when I was a couple of months old, Auntie had told me, so I yearned for memories of what he was like.
Akilah was out with some of the other kids. Apparently, on free days, if you didn’t want to meditate, kids went out and played Lopli. It was some type of game involving a ball and a net, but I didn’t understand all the particulars, nor was I interested. I still felt the need to live as I had with Auntie: closed off. Not bonding too much with others. Akilah and Jasper were the only people I regularly spoke with here at the temple.
Pylum I rarely saw. I was told he had important business away from the temple. My hope was that he was securing whatever protections were necessary to get my aunt. She’d been with Zygam entirely too long, and his nonchalantness about trying to rescue her was gnawing at me. I wasn’t sure why he was so confident she would be safe because Zygam wouldn’t want to offend me. She was being held captive, and I could hardly imagine Zygam waiting so patiently to take back someone he believed had been stolen from him.
Zygam had searched for me for ten years. And now that he’d found me, he hadn’t stormed this temple to try to take me back. Perhaps he faced the same issue as Pylum, that a temple was a hard place to storm and overtake.
I got up. I needed to find Pylum. Perhaps he was back today. I left my room and headed down to Pylum’s office.
When I arrived, the tall, ornate door was slightly ajar. I rapped lightly with my knuckles, and poked my head in. The dwarf was frowning in concentration as he stared into a memory orb. He looked up at me and set the orb aside.
“Dirah,” he said, forcing his lips into a smile. “I’ve heard you’ve improved greatly while I’ve been away.”
I nodded and waited. He didn’t invite me in. “May we talk?” I asked.
He paused as if he needed to think about it for a minute, but he seemed to decide quickly, waving me in. I walked over to him, and he remained standing, so I decided to as well.
“What’s on your mind?”
“I’m doing well with my magic,” I told him. “So I’d like for us to try to rescue my aunt.”
He shook his head. “We need more time,” he said. “And you need more training. I’m going to ask Master Shanzu to teach you how to combine crystals and glyphs. You’ll need to know that.”
I shook my head. “We just need to get her,” I insisted. “I don’t see how leaving her with Zygam helps. At any minute, he could change his mind and hurt her.”
“He won’t,” Pylum insisted. “He’s already offered a trade for her. He wants you, and I’m not going to hand you over when it does no good.”
“It frees my aunt.”
“I can assure you, she wants you safe more than she wants to be free.”
I felt like smacking the little man. I wanted her safe, and his refusal to help was infuriating. I shook my head and turned to pace the room. I needed a moment to think of another argument. Something else that would sway him.
“Your mother used to pace like that,” he said, chuckling.
“So did — er, so does — my aunt,” I shot back with a cold glare.
He looked sympathetic toward me. “Dirah,” he started.
“Call me Kady,” I said.
“Yes, Kady. I want to get Talitha back as much as you do, but I’m not going to jeopardize the temple when it’s not necessary. We are at a comfortable stalemate for the moment. The next move must be perfect, or it threatens to throw everything out of balance.”
“It’s not comfortable for me,” I said. “How long do we have to wait before we act?”
He took a deep breath and looked around the room. “Focus on honing your magic,” he said. “No matter what the rest of us do, if you’re not ready, it won’t matter.”
I stared at him trying to understand. “Not ready for what? Are you expecting me to single-handedly defeat Zygam?”
“No, of course not,” he said, his little head swiveling vigorously. “But we need to disable him. We need you to take the Talisman of Elpida when we retrieve your aunt. Without it, he won’t risk an attack on Hakari Ahet.”
My pulse quickened as his words set in, and I could feel the anger bubbling up. “You seem more concerned about stealing this talisman than helping my aunt.”
“It’s not stealing,” he said. “The talisman was supposed to be destroyed, and Zygam stole it. I just want to get the talisman away from him.”
“And if I can’t do it?” I asked. “Does that mean you’ll never rescue my aunt?”
“You can do it,” he said. “But if things don’t improve within three months, we’ll figure out a new plan.”
My eyes widened. Three months! I wasn’t waiting three months to rescue my aunt. I was going to figure out a new plan. A Kady plan. I blew out a frustr
ated breath, and said, “Well, I better get to my studies, then.”
Pylum looked relieved. He shouldn’t have been.
* * *
I was so angry at Pylum, I wanted to spit. I tromped through the hallways of the temple, trying to figure out what I wanted to do or how to cool down, and then I remembered the alshams room Jasper had taken me to show me his mother’s memories. I wound my way down to the room, and as I was about to open the door, it opened of its own accord.
I thought for a moment, I’d magically opened it, but just then Jasper emerged, startled to find me there. “Hey,” he said. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”
I could’ve said the same, only I probably should have considered it as a possibility. If he brought me here, I should have known he might come here himself sometimes. “I was just looking for a quiet place to think.”
He nodded. “It’s a good spot,” he said. He stepped aside so I could enter the room. He started to leave and then turned back to me, a little bit hesitant. “Did you want to talk about it?”
I wasn’t sure that I did, but I did want to pick his brain about something. “Do you have a minute?” I asked.
He smiled and came back in, shutting the door behind him. The room brightened again, as if it was trying to fill me with light. It felt nice, warm, like good things would happen like maybe I was worrying too much about things. I turned and surveyed the room. It was different somehow. “What happened in here?”
“I scourged it,” he said. “I used to come with my father when he did it, and a few months ago, I asked Pylum if I could assist Ella, the mage who helps keep the temple in order. Actually, I should call her Master Safiya.”
“Why?” I asked.
“When you complete your sukaat training and receive a master title, you can elect to take a new name.”
A new name. I couldn’t imagine deciding to change my name. Though, I suppose that is what had already been done to me. I’d gone from Kadirah to Dirah, and now to Kady. “Do most mages change their names when they become a master?”
