by Ben Hale
"Impressive, for one so recently unbound—but I would expect nothing less from you."
"What are you talking about?" she demanded, although curiosity now burned in her voice.
"My apologies," he said. "I did say I would start at the beginning. Why don't we walk and talk. You do have a curfew, don't you?"
She jerked as if she had been struck. She'd completely forgotten why she'd taken the shortcut in the first place. But what would her parents think when she told them about what had just happened? Probably put her in a psych ward. She blew out her breath.
"My parents are going to kill me for being late," she growled.
She moved to step past him but his cough brought her up short. For the first time he appeared uncomfortable. "What?" she asked, held fast by his expression.
"They aren't your parents, Tess."
She started to shake her head, incredulous at the absurd idea . . . but Hawk's piercing gaze gave her pause. "That's . . . not possible."
"You should know they love you deeply, and have no idea who you really are." He sighed and looked away. "Their daughter died within hours of birth. It was one of the reasons why they were chosen to raise you. I am sure you have heard the story of your miraculous recovery."
Indeed she had heard it—more than once in fact. She had been born with lung problems and hadn't been expected to survive. The next day the doctors had been astounded when she had made a full recovery. "How could you know that?" she demanded.
"Because," he said, "I was the one that placed you with them."
She stood frozen. Unable to gather enough denial, she asked, "Who am I then?"
He gave her a crooked smile. "Have you ever heard of Lumineia?"
She started at the change in topic. "The books? Sci-fi . . . or fantasy, right?"
"Fantasy isn't always fiction," he said. He leaned in, his gaze piercing. "Sometimes it's history."
She couldn’t help it, she laughed. Stepping around him, she quickened her steps toward the main road. She wasn't surprised when he appeared beside her, easily matching her pace.
"Next you're going to tell me that aliens exist? Or zombies?"
"That's absurd," he scoffed. "Only magic is real."
She laughed again, but the confidence in his expression stole her humor. Irritated, she used the best argument she could come up with.
"If magic is real, then why doesn't everyone in the world believe it?"
Hawk responded as if she had meant it to be a serious question. "Six thousand years ago there was a war between the magical and non magical peoples. Half the population of the world was killed, and the surviving mages decided that magic should be hidden. They withdrew from the world, quietly. Nonmages, or aurens as we call them, moved on. Before long magic faded into myth and legend. The mages have been in hiding ever since."
"Where's your staff—or wand?" Tess asked, wondering if her sarcasm masked her interest. Why did she care what a crazy person thought—but she couldn't shake the image of fire dancing up her arms.
Hawk grinned and shook his head. "Mages don't usually use wands—or many of the preconceived items associated with magic. In reality, magic is just energy. A mage is someone who can see that energy, and manipulate it. Different mages use water, fire, air, plant, light, and so on."
Tess stopped at a crosswalk and waited for the light to change. She didn't like how difficult it was to argue with him. How was it possible for him to sound so convincing? "I think you're nuts," she said, settling on the obvious statement.
He shrugged, and then continued as if he hadn't heard her. "Over the last few thousand years the bloodlines have become mixed, so it's common for mages to use more than one kind of magic. Most of us wield one or two, a few can do three, and every decade or so someone can do four. It's been a hundred years since someone could manipulate five kinds of energy."
"So I'm a fire mage?" Tess asked.
"Oh, you are going to be much more than that, Tess. I believe you're going to be an oracle."
The gravity in his voice caused her to stop. She turned on him, glad to find her anger back. "And what is an oracle? Am I going to be able to see the future?"
"Sort of," he replied with a shrug. "An oracle is a person that can see every kind of energy. Because of her ability, she can see connections that others can't. The greatest oracles were said to be able to see hundreds . . . or even thousands of years into the future."
"What do you mean 'were said'?"
"There hasn't been one in six thousand years."
"What makes you think I am one?"
"I have my reasons," he said, and he resumed his walking.
Jumping to catch up, she demanded, "Why can't you tell me? First you expect me to believe that magic is real, that earth's history is a fantasy novel, and that mages live in hiding today. Then you tell me my parents aren't my parents, and that I am an oracle—but won't tell me why?!"
"I'm glad to see you're getting a grasp on the situation."
She threw her hands up—but yanked them back when she saw sparks coming from her palms. Furious at the absurdity of the entire conversation, she rubbed her hands against her jeans so fast that her hands hurt.
"That will only make it worse," Hawk said, his tone mild.
Her arms went rigid as she forcibly calmed herself. "Then what am I supposed to do? I just found out I'm a born arsonist."
His eyebrows pulled together as he glanced at her. "Every mage has different triggers, so I can only tell you the common ones. For many, their ability is linked to emotion. Of those, fire is most often tied to anger. Learning to control a type of energy is about identifying its power inside of yourself."
She took a deep breath to steady herself, and then peeked at her hands. To her surprise—and satisfaction—her hands had cooled. In an even tone, she said, "So one outburst and I can torch my home?"
"To be honest, it will be different for you than most. What you did in the alley," he jerked a thumb behind them, "would have taken most fire mages a lifetime to accomplish. And what you did just then," he gestured to her relaxed hands, "takes years of practice."
His words reminded her of the group of men that had trapped her, causing her to shiver. "Who were those men in hoods?"
For the first time since she'd met him, Hawk's features twisted into anger. His gray eyes glittered with power and retribution as he said, "They belong to a faction of our people that don't want us to stay in hiding. They call themselves the Harbingers, and they came to take you before you were unbound."
His expression frightened her, but not for her own safety. Fleetingly she wondered if the Harbingers feared him as much as they should.
"You mentioned that before, being unbound. What did you mean?"
He sighed, and the anger faded from his face. "If parents desire, they can bind the magic in their children. For many reasons your parents decided to bind your powers fully until the age of sixteen. As you have gotten closer to your birthday, your power started to become noticeable. It is why I have kept an eye on you—but I guess you didn't need it."
"I don't turn sixteen for four months−why could I do that now?"
"If a mage is strong enough, they can break it early. It isn't common though, and never with such a display."
"So how did you extinguish the fire?"
"You could say that fire is my specialty," he said. A grin appeared on his face.
She frowned at the vague answer, but shook her head. They were turning onto her street and she wanted more answers. She refused to even consider the possibility that her parents were not her own, but it wouldn’t hurt her to ask.
"Are you going to tell me about my 'real' parents?" She resisted the urge to raise her hands and make quotations with her fingers.
"Both were quite powerful. Your mother was one of the few that could do four kinds, and your father could do three types your mother couldn't. He was one of the few class three flyers I have ever seen. More importantly, they believed in an ancient prophecy
about a modern oracle coming to light. For certain reasons, they believed that their daughter would fulfill it.
"You must understand that this particular prophecy is highly debated, and is quite controversial. In essence, is says that she will unify the world with magic. The bulk of our people do not want our ways to become known again. The rest want it to become public once more. If you are the oracle—and I believe you are—then both sides want you. One side would silence you, and the other would seek to control you."
They had arrived at Tess's house, and she was glad that neither car was in the driveway. Although her head had begun to spin, she felt the need to understand. "So what happens now, Hawk? This morning I was just concerned about not failing summer school, and you were just a crazy guy on the street."
He flashed a wry grin. "Tomorrow your parents will receive a letter. It will be an invitation for you to attend a private school. At first they will think it's a mistake, but after calling to request additional information, they will be told that it does indeed mean you. The woman on the phone will explain that you were selected because of a recommendation by one of your teachers. After your parents agree, they will drop you off at the airport for you to fly to Colorado. I will meet you on the other side of security and take you the rest of the way."
"What's at this . . . school?" Tess said. She wasn't ready to admit she believed everything, but the evidence was difficult to ignore.
"An education for mages. You need to be trained to use your abilities."
"What if I decide not to go?"
"Then you are free to return to your summer classes."
He had her, and his expression revealed that he knew it. The school could have been on the moon and taught the science of Martians, and she still would have chosen it over math. She grimaced, abruptly overwhelmed. "We'll see." Turning on her heel, she walked to her front door.
"One more thing, Tess," he called, causing her to turn. "I wouldn't recommend telling others that you are the oracle, especially the mages you will encounter."
There was a warning edge to his voice that sent a chill down her neck, so she gave a curt nod before turning away. Unlocking her house, she stepped inside and closed the door behind her. She leaned against it, fighting to keep her thoughts from melting into chaos. Staring at the ceiling, she tried to convince herself it had all been a hallucination.
She hesitated, and then raised her hand to look at her palm. Narrowing her gaze, she sought to bring the fire back. Heat gathered in her hand, glowing red across her skin. It brightened, and reflected off her face until it sparked into a tongue of flame. Surprised at how easy it had been, she peered in fascination at the tiny fire. Fed by her will, it licked at the inside of her palm, and swirled around her fingers in a warm caress.
Then she heard a car door open.
Fear spiked through her and she clenched her hand shut, extinguishing the flame in a burst of sparks. Whirling, she peeked out the window, and felt a rush of gratitude when she saw her mother striding up the walkway. Looking past her, Tess saw no sign of Hawk. She opened the door as her mom reached it and pulled her into an embrace.
"Was it that bad?" her mom asked.
"You have no idea," Tess murmured.
"Do you want to tell me about it?" she asked. She pulled away with a very motherly look of concern on her face.
What if she really wasn't her mom? Cringing from that thought, she said, "Maybe later? I'm kind of tired."
Her mother stared at her for a few seconds. "Okay honey. Do you mind helping me with the groceries, though?"
Tess smiled, feeling odd talking about groceries after the conversation she'd had with Hawk. Nodding, she helped carry the sacks of food into the house, hoping her mom didn't see her worried looks down the dark street.
Once inside, she said her excuses and escaped to her room. Collapsing onto the bed, she stared at the stars on the ceiling. For some reason the story of Alice in Wonderland came to mind. When she was younger, she had imagined what it would have been like to visit a fantasy world.
What if . . . she was already in one?
Chapter 4: Unreal
Tess couldn't believe how easily her parents had been convinced. The letter and the phone call had occurred exactly the way Hawk had described, but she hadn't expected how real it became. When her father had suggested they look up Tryton’s Academy on the internet, she'd nearly passed out. Before she could stop him, he'd found the website.
To her astonishment it looked normal. Complete with pictures, a schedule of classes, sporting events, and even a list of teachers, it almost convinced Tess that it was legit. After a few more phone calls, and several days of nervous conversations, it was decided. Tess had a sneaking suspicion that they were desperate to help her grades improve.
Over the next two weeks she held her emotions firmly in check—and kept her eyes open for Hawk. A few times she thought she caught a glimpse of him, but couldn't be sure. At first she had tried to talk herself out of going, but the feeling of power in her palms was impossible to deny.
She was both terrified of what was happening, and excited to the point of agitation. Would she really go with some crazy stranger? A small part of her gave an emphatic no. The rest of her couldn't ignore the supreme confidence in Hawk's gaze. She hated to admit it, but he didn't look or sound insane.
Before she knew it, she was on her way to the airport. She'd already said goodbye to her friends, and it had sadly been quick and easy. It made her question how deep their relationships really were. She wouldn't have classified herself as an outcast at school. She would have called herself socially average, which just meant overlooked.
As they drove through the evening traffic, she tried to maintain the conversation with her parents. It was obvious they were both worried, but it looked like her mother was having second thoughts.
Tess tried to reassure them, but her heart fluttered in her chest. How can it be so hard to breathe? Despite her chaotic emotions, she did her best to respond with optimism. She still hadn't decided if her parents were hers or not, but a lifetime of support and love couldn't be dissolved in a single conversation—no matter how convincing.
Either way, she hated lying to her parents—yet couldn't bring herself to tell them either. She had resolved to discover more about the truth first, and then tell them. Hopefully they would be understanding when she did, and not have her evaluated at a hospital.
On the outside she smiled and assured her mother that she would be careful, and promised her father that she had packed the pepper spray (which she had). Inside, anticipation curled her gut, and sent flutters through her stomach as the exit to the airport came into view. In minutes they stood in front of security and it was time to say goodbye.
With her mind buzzing she hugged her parents, and promised to call them when she arrived. She felt tears well up as she embraced them. Lingering in her mother's arms, she decided that no matter what, they were her family. No amount of truth would deny her that choice.
Separating, she said farewell and stepped into the slow-moving line of other passengers, annoyed at their pace. She looked back once and waved. They returned the gesture. Then she turned a corner and lost sight of them. She looked back anyway. Was she doing the right thing? She stepped through the metal detector, feeling nervous and twitchy, and hoped security wouldn't call her on it. She could only imagine the conversation.
Why are you so nervous, Miss?
Because I'm going to a secret magic school, and am not sure if I'm doing the right thing.
Er, do you have any medication in your bags?
No, but I can prove it. Watch me light fire in my hands . . .
Miss . . . what are you doing? Miss?! STOP HER! SHE'S GOT A BOMB!!
She smothered a laugh and collected her backpack. Then she took a deep breath and decided that whatever lay before her, she wouldn't cringe like a frightened kitten. Her parents had raised her better than that.
Her chin rose and she squared her shoulders. S
triding into the terminal, she came to a halt as she realized she had no idea where to go. She doubted she was actually supposed to use the ticket in her hand, but—
"—Glad you could make it," Hawk said, appearing at her side.
She started, but recovered quickly. "I almost didn't come."
He snorted in disbelief. "You couldn't resist. There's no way you would have gone back to summer school after—"
"So where to now?" she said, overly loud.
His eyes sparkled and he indicated for her to follow him. Stepping down a side corridor, he led her to a bank of elevators.
"What about the bags I checked with the airline?" she asked as they waited.
"They will be in your room when you get there," he said.
She nodded, but wondered again where they were going. Where exactly did you hide a secret magic school? Then the doors slid open. They entered the empty elevator, but he didn't say a word until the doors had closed. Turning to face her, he said, "Would you like to choose the floor?" He pointed to an almost invisible circle just below the bottom button.
She frowned, but obediently pressed it. When nothing happened she grunted and whirled at him, but he merely laughed and ignited fire in his hand. Gesturing toward the button again, he said, "Use your magic."
Reluctantly, she turned back to the panel. She hadn't attempted fire since the night she'd met Hawk, and now felt unsure of how to proceed. Recalling his words on emotion, she let her irritation at being put on the spot flow into her fingers. Warmth flooded her hand, followed by the spark of flame. Before it could evaporate, she jammed her finger into the silver button.
"Interesting," Hawk exclaimed, sounding pleased as the elevator began to descend.
"What?"
"Our transportation system will not activate for anyone but a full mage. An auren—or a young mage—would not have the power to do it."
