Scarlet and the Keepers of Light

by Brandon Charles West

  “Nothing,” Scarlet answered.

  “Oh, I don’t believe that. Let your imagination roam. Turn your mind inward.” Xavier waited patiently, watching Scarlet’s face. When her face changed, betraying the slightest of smiles at the corners of her mouth, he asked, “Now what do you see?”

  Scarlet flushed and, feeling slightly embarrassed, answered, “Um . . . a friend.”

  “Good. You can open your eyes. That was the first step, simple but quite important.”

  Scarlet looked at him with confusion. “Picturing a friend is the first step of magic?” Her disappointment was evident.

  “Well, it’s all in how you manipulate it—so, yes, it’s the first step. There was darkness, and, using your imagination, you pushed it away. Let’s go to the next step.”

  Scarlet pursed her lips, feeling very silly, but she nodded, ready to move on. Again Xavier told her to close her eyes.

  “This time I want you to imagine something in particular. I want you to picture a perfect round sphere made of light, like those trinkets at the village toy shop—you’ve seen those, right? Can you picture that?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good—is it radiating light?” Scarlet nodded. “Excellent. I want you to picture bringing that light back into the ball, so that it no longer lights up anything but itself.”

  Scarlet nodded again. She could see the ball clearly, and, concentrating, she was able to do as Xavier asked. She felt a warm sensation radiating through her as she pulled the light back into the sphere. It was as if she had drunk a cup of hot chocolate after having come in from the cold.

  “Now, bring that light farther into the ball, until all that remains is a pinpoint of light in the center. Hold it there.”

  Scarlet sat motionless, concentrating as hard as she could. The warmth inside her was now hot, almost uncomfortable. Her picture of the ball with its pinpoint of light seemed so real that she could reach out and touch it. In a tiny corner of her consciousness, she could see her dad staring worriedly at her.

  “Scarlet,” Xavier said, his voice almost imperceptibly soft. “When I give you the next picture, I want you to imagine it quickly. Don’t think it through, just make it happen, all right?”

  Scarlet nodded.

  “Let the light out, Scarlet. Let it fill the room.”

  Scarlet trembled for a moment, and then began to glow, herself. Without another warning, a blinding flash of light expanded from her, moving in a wave out to the perimeter of the library. Her dad and Xavier threw up their hands to shield their eyes.

  “Did you see that, Daddy? Did you see that?”

  But her dad couldn’t speak. He looked bewildered, and she felt a pang for him, grappling again with the impossible.

  Xavier put his hand on her dad’s shoulder. “There is no doubt.” He sounded on the verge of cheering. He turned to Scarlet. “That is beyond what any young Tounder has ever accomplished on her first day, my dear. And you aren’t even Tounder. You have just accomplished the impossible. I hope that you can appreciate how amazing that is. Of all the Tounder I have taught, not one has been able to produce such a light on her first try.”

  Scarlet could feel that she was still glowing.

  This time, though, it was with inner pride.

  11

  The Mortada

  If evil could be given form, given life, a body, breath, and thought, it would be the soul of a Mortada. Merciless, they served only that which brought the world closer to chaos. Thriving on the pain and misery of others, they were relentless, supremely powerful—and beautiful. It was a cruel joke that few beings in either of the two worlds could match the splendor of these malicious creatures, with their flawless skin and long golden hair.

  Three of the Mortada stood motionless just outside the forest of Illuminora. They had searched the entire land of Satorium on the small chance that the obvious was not true. It was. Their prey was under the protection of the Tounder, where not even the Mortada could get to her. They would wait for her as their lord commanded. He had assured them that eventually she would emerge. She had no choice, if she was to fulfill her destiny.

  What great pleasure it would be to kill her—not for the reward that awaited them when they delivered her to their lord, but just for the joy of killing someone so young and full of life. So full of untapped power.

  “How long will we have to wait, Letum?” one asked, his voice a lilting song.

  “As long as it takes, Gelu,” Letum answered, staring into the distance.

  They watched for a long moment in silence. As the wind moved through the trees, rustling the leaves, it parted around the Mortada, moving past them without so much as stirring a strand of their hair.

  “Did you hear what became of our brothers who crossed over to find her?” Gelu asked.

  “They failed,” Letum answered, his gaze still focused away.

  “Obviously,” Gelu sneered.

  “He disposed of them. They failed,” Letum answered, his tone so nonchalant that he might have been discussing which local baker made the best pastries.

  Gelu smiled, seeming to enjoy the news of his fellow Mortada’s death. “I would like to kill that tree,” he said, looking at Illuminora’s great oak, rising high above the other trees in the forest.

  “Why?” Letum asked, his voice showing no sign of actual interest.

  Gelu didn’t answer, but his smile was a wicked thing to behold.

  12

  Dakota Returns

  Scarlet sat by the fountain that had become one of her favorite spots in the village. It was a dazzling sight, a pink marble sculpture of wolves that reminded Scarlet of Dakota, who she hadn’t seen since her second day in Illuminora. The wolves were posed playfully, chasing each other through the water as light spilled around and above them. It reminded her of a day at the lake near their home, when everything had been simple and safe, and she and Melody watched as Cricket and Dakota swam, chasing sticks and each other. It was one of those perfect days that would stay with her always.

  Ever since her session in the library with Xavier, Scarlet had found that if she concentrated hard enough, she could direct the light from the fountain, once even so well that she was able to make two spheres of light chase one another. What amazed her most about her new ability was how natural it felt, as if she had been doing it all her life. Although her power was limited by experience, her imagination had been running rampant with all the possibilities.

  ***

  A little distance from the fountain, Dakota stood, watching Scarlet. Her red hair was gleaming in the light from the fountain, sending rays of gold all around her. She was smiling as she made the light dance around the fountain, looking so innocent, so childlike. She seemed unaware of the danger gathering around her, although Dakota knew better. Scarlet was a smart girl, and he had little doubt that she had figured much out on her own.

  Dakota closed the distance between them, and spoke. “Your abilities are quite extraordinary already.”

  Scarlet turned and, catching sight of the large dog, leaped from the side of the fountain to throw her arms around his great neck. But then she stopped short, and Dakota could see uncertainty flooding over her. He knew what she was thinking: Dakota was no longer the dog she had known, not really the puppy who’d snuggled beside her all those nights, even though he looked just the same. Scarlet was confused, Dakota knew, caught between betrayal and longing.

  “Thank you,” was all she managed to say.

  “I’m sorry it took so long for me to speak to you, Scarlet. That wasn’t fair. I know that,” said Dakota, genuine remorse in his voice. “There was much for me to do . . . but that’s not really an acceptable excuse.”

  “I have been kind of confused. Especially by you. Strange or not, at least everybody else is who they are. But you aren’t, are you?” Scarlet asked, her voice quivering
a little.

  “It’s complicated—”

  “Everything’s complicated,” Scarlet snapped back, perhaps a little too forcefully.

  “It’s not that I’m someone different, Scarlet. Just . . . well . . . older, for one thing.”

  “How old?” asked Scarlet, walking back to the fountain and sitting down on its edge.

  “About a hundred and three,” Dakota admitted.

  “Wow.” Scarlet sighed. “People don’t even live that long.”

  “You’ll find that in Satorium, things tend to live a lot longer than you’re used to.”

  Scarlet let her hand fall so that her fingers brushed the cool water of the fountain.

  “How old is your father?” she asked tentatively, then looked down and flushed. Dakota knew what she was trying to ask. He did his best to disguise the look of anguish that flashed in his eyes as the thought of his father stirred up painful memories.

  “When my father died,” Dakota answered, the slightest tremble in his voice, “he was five hundred and thirty-three. That was many years ago.”

  Scarlet’s jaw dropped. “Five hundred and thirty-three years. That’s unbelievable!”

  Making a determined effort to keep his voice level, Dakota added, “Would have been much longer, if it hadn’t been for the Mortada.” He would keep no secrets from Scarlet, not anymore. He had promised himself that.

  “The Mortada . . . they killed your father?” Scarlet asked, meekly.

  “They killed my parents, my brother, and my sisters.” Dakota looked away for a moment. “The oldest Stidolph I’ve ever heard of lived to be one thousand years old. Died on the anniversary of his birth. That might better answer your real question.”

  “So do you start over then, since you were a puppy again?”

  Dakota laughed, a pleasant sound despite the harsh growl in his voice. “No, I don’t start over. That would be something, if I did.”

  “So when you were a puppy, it was like a spell or something—a trick?” Scarlet couldn’t keep the disappointment out of her voice.

  “No trick. I had to be born again into innocence and youth to make the journey. There was no other way at the time. Once I finally crossed over, Xavier was able to use my . . . essence, I guess you’d call it, to send the Stidolph pack to us.”

  Scarlet stared at Dakota, bewildered. “Should I try and understand what that means?”

  “You should try and understand everything. Sometimes acceptance is important, but never without an attempt to understand—” Dakota stopped, realizing that he was preaching. He didn’t want to talk like that to her. Not after the time they’d spent together before the Mortada came. It would be too confusing, even hurtful, to a young girl who had essentially lost her pet . . . her friend. “Everything around you now, everything you’re learning, it’s not beyond your understanding. It’s strange and confusing, but not beyond you. Remember that.”

  “Okay. I’ll try.”

  “Good. That’s going to be important in the times to come,” Dakota padded over to the fountain and sat down beside Scarlet. Though Scarlet was seated off the ground on the fountain’s edge, Dakota’s head was level with hers. “Even with Xavier’s magic and mine together, the barrier between Satorium and your world was too great to pass as we did when we came back to Satorium. We had to find another way, and there was only one. I left my body behind and wandered, searching for a way to find you. By the time I finally did, fourteen years had passed. I had to choose a form from your world. Something that would not be out of place. Something your family would allow to get near you. I chose a dog. The rest you know.”

  Scarlet waited a while before responding. “It makes sense. It’s unbelievable, but it makes sense. Where did you go? After we got here, you left us.”

  “I had to work the soreness out of my shoulder, and I had some explaining to do to the Stidolph. They were notably curious as to why I was no longer . . . myself . . . and a little upset when I told them I never would be again. They had a hard time with . . . well . . . they had a hard time accepting it.”

  “Why did you come back?” Scarlet asked, her face hopeful.

  Dakota could see that she’d missed him, and that she wanted very much for him to stay, even though she was confused. “I am your guardian and your mentor,” he reassured here. “I will be with you as long as I’m able. Hopefully to the end. You have a great task ahead of you. You are more than capable, but it won’t be easy. I will help see you through the best I can,” Dakota responded, trying to keep a hint of sadness out of his voice.

  They sat quietly, Scarlet letting things sink in, Dakota giving her time, watching with admiration as the lights of the fountain danced with her varying emotions, although she was unaware of what she was doing.

  Suddenly the lights flickered and went out before returning, even more intense, colored a deep scarlet.

  “What are you thinking right now?” Dakota asked.

  “I was thinking about . . . the darkness,” Scarlet admitted apprehensively.

  “Interesting . . . ” Dakota’s voice trailed off.

  “What is?” Scarlet asked.

  “Look at the fountain,” Dakota said, tilting his head toward the water.

  Scarlet’s eyes went wide as she saw the crimson light. “Did I do that?”

  “Yes, and I think you will probably be able to skip your next lesson. All colors are within white light, as I understand, but it takes a good deal of experience to single out a particular color. You are having a powerful reaction to Thanerbos already.”

  “How could I possibly be expected to beat a sorcerer who’s known magic his whole life?”

  “That is an excellent question, one I’m glad you asked. Xavier might be upset at me for jumping ahead, but I’ve always been a fan of knowledge. I will never lie to you again, Scarlet. You have my word, and what I know, you will know.” Dakota took a minute to let his words sink in. “Magic exists in nature, in the wind, fire, water, in the minds of others, in the forces of gravity and the passage of time. There is also the magic of light and dark. All who reside in Satorium have the gift of magic in some form or another. What is common among all those who know magic is that they can only practice the form of magic they are born with.” Dakota paused for a moment, trying to think of the best way to explain. “Think of it like your hair or your eyes. Your mother and father both have something inside them that they passed on to you when you were made that together gave you your green eyes and your red hair.”

  “You mean, like DNA or something?” Scarlet asked.

  “I don’t know what DNA is,” Dakota admitted.

  “I don’t completely know either, but it has something to do with the genes that you get from your mother and father, and that’s what makes you have certain color eyes and skin and stuff.”

  “Then yes. Like DNA. The peoples of Satorium inherit their magic from their mothers and fathers. There are many forms and many ways in which magic is used. Some use staves they imbue with magical properties. Some speak to nature using ancient words of great power. Some can control flame with the power of the minds. What is similar among all these practices is that they involve using magic to manipulate what is already there. They are born with magic, but they can only control things outside themselves. The magic of light and dark is different. All the powers of light and dark come from within. The Tounder alone possess the power of light, and the Mortada . . . the darkness.” Dakota paused and then added, “Are you following?”

  Scarlet tilted her head playfully. “Again, the whole understanding-but-trouble-believing thing.”

  “Magic requires a great deal of knowledge, strength, and stamina. It takes a great deal of energy to manipulate the world around you. Everything has its own will, even things that you might not think of as alive. To get those things to act against their will requires skill, knowledge, and strength. The m
ore powerful and dramatic the magic, the greater the toll it takes on the magician.

  “The pirates of the North Sea, for instance, are born with magic that enables them to manipulate water. They can make the sea answer to their commands, but the greater the magic they perform, the weaker they will be, and the longer they will need to recover.

  “The Tounder and the Mortada are different. Their magic does not come solely from knowledge of how to manipulate the light and dark around them. It comes from their own inner source of power. It is much easier to control your own will than the will of something else. The Tounder are born with the light inside them. They can not only manipulate light but create it. They are keepers. Now what if a sorcerer were born with this inner magic, but instead of being like the Tounder and Mortada, who keep only the light or the dark, this sorcerer was the keeper of all magic. They would be able to use magic—”

  “Without limitations,” Scarlet interrupted.

  “Yes and no. Even the Tounder and the Mortada tire with the use of magic. But their power is greater than that of other users of magic. Now imagine if you were born with every color hair, and you could change that color whenever you wanted. You and Thanerbos have this ability. You were born with all the magic inside you. You can create what isn’t there, not simply manipulate what is. And in all of history there has only been one other, so you can see why you are so important—so special.” Dakota stood and arched his back, stretching his powerful muscles.

  “That still doesn’t explain how I, even if I were to learn all this magic, could beat someone who has known magic all his life.”

  “Ah. . . . Well, there is a catch. You may be born with the ability to perform any magic that exists, but without someone to teach you how— It would be like knowing the secret to life but having no way to communicate it. The Tounder will never teach Thanerbos how to find the power of the light, Scarlet. You alone will have that. He may possess the ability inside him, but without someone to help him awaken it, it does him no good.”