Harmonic Magic Series Boxed Set

by P. E. Padilla

  Before he could speak, she said, in broken English, “Sam, is it possible that you would allow me to go with you? I think I would like to see your world. And you would not know what to do without me.”

  Pulling her into a tight hug, he said into her hair, “You’re so right, Nalia. I wouldn’t know what to do without you. I don’t want to find out.”

  Preparations made, Sam, Nalia, and Skitter stood close to one another in the main audience room where they had fought their final battle with the Gray Man. The bodies had been removed, the stone meticulously scrubbed, and even more books and shelves added. There was no sign of the battle that had been fought, but at times, Sam was still uncomfortable from the memories that haunted the room. Sam and Nalia both had backpacks with a few supplies, including about thirty pounds of gold ingots each. Of course, they also had their weapons, Ahimiro for Sam and the shrapezi for Nalia. Skitter had only a small pouch full of dried kimatar fruit for the journey, telling them that he would be the most popular hapaki in his community because of it.

  Their goodbyes said, Sam closed his eyes, entered khulim. He felt for the familiar signature of his home and the three disappeared from the Gray Fortress, appearing instantly in Sam’s meditation room. A fine layer of dust coated everything, but otherwise the house seemed unharmed and unchanged. Sam had been afraid that animals may have gotten inside, but there didn’t appear to be any evidence of intruders.

  The three friends walked outside to the clearing where Sam’s adventure started. He bent down and picked up Skitter.

  You, my friend, are a hero, he sent to the hapaki. You were with me from the very start, from when I first came to this world. You never left me, even through all the danger, and the only reason we won in the end was because of your bravery. I will miss you most of all.

  A strange emotion leaked over from the hapaki’s mind. Was that embarrassment? You are my friend, Skitter sent. I couldn’t abandon you. I did only what any other honorable hapaki would do. Even some humans would have done as much. Could I do any less? I will miss you, too, Sam. We had quite an adventure, but it’s time for me to go to my home and you to go to yours. If you are able to come back, go toward the Northeast and call for me. Maybe we can talk about old times, sitting safely within my familiar forest.

  Sam laughed. I would like that. Take care of yourself, Skitter. Make the hapaki a great people again. I think this world will have need of your honor and bravery.

  As he turned to go, Skitter stopped and turned back around to face Sam. “Good…bye…Sam.” The hapaki hissed the words with difficulty from his too-small mouth.

  Sam and Nalia stared in amazement. “Skitter,” Sam said aloud for Nalia’s benefit while sending the same to Skitter’s mind, “you can speak English? When did you learn to do that?”

  Skitter was bursting with pride. I listened to you teaching Nalia and I practiced when I was alone. I can use primitive communication, too. Did you have any doubt?

  Sam’s smile hurt his cheeks. He translated Skitter’s thoughts for Nalia and then said, “I never doubted you for a minute. Thank you for putting forth the effort to learn. Maybe we can talk again the next time we meet.”

  I would like that.

  Sam watched Skitter turn and skitter off into the underbrush, dragging his overstuffed sack of edible loot with him. Goodbye, my friend, Sam sent as he disappeared.

  Just that quickly, there was only one thing left to do. Turning to Nalia and taking her hand, he headed back into his house. He paused at the door of his meditation room as he pulled the little statue from his pack and placed it in the location it always occupied on the table. Rubbing its head for luck, he thought of Grayson and smiled a sad smile.

  Seated on the floor of his meditation room, backpacks lying next to them, the two remaining party members closed their eyes and attained the khulim. Sam fixed his home world in his mind, picturing his neighborhood and the surrounding areas so vividly he felt as if he was seeing it with his eyes open. When he felt close enough to step into that world, he shifted his focus slightly to Nalia, who was sitting across from him, cross-legged as Rindu always was when they trained.

  In his mental picture, he saw her smile to see his world and then she locked eyes with him. In those eyes, he saw the love he had for her reflected back at him. He knew then that she loved him too and knew that he could trust her with anything, even his life. In that moment, he dropped all his defenses and let her absorb him. He felt himself sliding into her eyes, dissolving until he felt as if they were one person. He felt safe there, cradled and protected by her, his teacher, his hero, his love.

  Sam felt the familiar feeling of returning to his world. As before, colors swirled around him in a maelstrom. He automatically flipped the colors to their negatives and saw, there before him, the tunnel home. He let Nalia know his thoughts and she led him through it. Feeling the swirling, dizzying effects of his journey, the world suddenly stopped, and he regained his senses.

  Sam opened his eyes. The first thing he saw was Nalia, sitting perfectly motionless in front of him. As her eyes opened and found his, she smiled and his entire body grew warm. Leaning forward, he kissed her mouth gently and then leaned back to look into her eyes. “Shall we go see if it worked?” he asked her.

  “Yes,” She rose, took his hand to pull him to his feet, and headed for the door.

  He paused before his front door, not sure what he would find on the other side. He opened it slowly and was happy to see the familiar street and yard. He was back home. Stoker, Sam’s cat, rushed into the house between Sam’s feet, heading for the food dish.

  Picking the cat up and petting him, Sam thought absently about why his yard was not overgrown with weeds. Did his house remain here even though it was on Gythe with him? What would have happened if they had built something else on this land while he was gone all those months, his house disappearing suddenly? How had his cat survived all this time?

  “Hey, Stoker,” he said to the cat, “I want you to meet Nalia. Nalia, this is my cat and best buddy Stoker.” The cat looked at Sam questioningly and Sam realized he was speaking Kasmali. He would have to get back into the habit of speaking English. “Sorry,” he said to the cat in English, “habit.” The cat gazed into his eyes, slowly blinked his own, and rubbed his forehead against Sam’s face.

  Sam’s cell phone, still on the table in his meditation room, chimed. Sam set the cat down, went to the room, and looked at his phone. He had one missed call and one voice mail. One. That seemed strange. He was gone for months and all he had was one call?

  The message was from his mother. He put it on speaker. “Sam, it’s mom. Are you still coming over for dinner tonight? Give me a call and let me know. Love you, bye.” The call had come in an hour ago. Just an hour. Looking again at the time and date on his phone, he realized that it was the same date on which he left, the day of the storm. It was less than half a day from when he had gone to Gythe. All those months he spent there and only half a day had passed here.

  Turning to Nalia and taking her into his arms, he laughed and cried and hugged her close while turning them around in circles. “It’s wonderful, Nalia! Hardly any time has passed here. My mother doesn’t even know I was gone. Even my cat is still in good shape, though maybe irritated that he’s been without his food dish for a few hours. What do you say I bring you to meet my mother tonight? She is expecting me for dinner and I would love for her to meet you.”

  Chapter 58

  Sam’s mother loved Nalia, of course, though Nalia’s vocabulary in English was not very extensive and her accent was thick. She doted on the Sapsyr as if she was her own daughter. Whether it was because Nalia was so delightful or because Sam’s mother was happy to see Sam happy with someone wasn’t clear, but he supposed it didn’t matter.

  “She is so beautiful,” Nicole Sharp said to Sam when Nalia left to use the restroom, “and such a dear. You better not mess this one up, Sam.” She elbowed him affectionately.

  As for Nalia, Sam was surpr
ised yet again at her versatility. She was the perfect guest, polite, charming, and utterly delightful. As he cleaned up the dishes so she and his mother could talk more, he found himself stealing looks at her. Once, she looked to him and saw his intense gaze and his smile and she favored him with a big smile of her own. It made his heart flutter.

  When he was finished, Sam knew it was time to tell his mother what had happened. Starting at the very beginning, Sam told her the whole story, leaving nothing out. When he got to the end and the revelation that his uncle had still been alive, mother and son cried freely. When the tears settled down, his mother looked haggard and worn, but strangely relieved.

  “I am so sorry that I reacted the way I did, Sam. I probably shouldn’t have removed us from everything and everyone you knew and moved us out here, cutting off all ties. It was just so traumatic for me that I knew I would go insane with all the reminders. Once we went down that road, it was too late to turn back. I’m afraid I have done a horrible thing to you.”

  “No, mom, it’s ok. I understand. I saw in Uncle Grayson’s memories how much you all cared for each other, and for me. I don’t blame you and I don’t blame him. In the end, he made the choice to end his own life because of the things he’d done and the things he had suffered. I don’t think any less of him for that.”

  He hugged her, glancing at Nalia to see her sitting expressionless. Before he could make a move or say a word, his mother did so. “Nalia, I know you have suffered too, and at the hands of my brother. I am so sorry for the loss of your mother.” And then she pulled the surprised Sapsyr into a hug. When they finally released each other, both women were crying.

  Sam stood up and went to the entryway to retrieve his backpack. “Mom, there is one more thing,” he said, “care of Uncle Grayson.” He pulled out a large ingot of pure gold and laid it carefully on the table. “We should probably cut or melt it into smaller sizes and then we can sell it. It should let you pay the house off and have money extra besides.”

  Sam’s mother looked dumbfounded. “Sam, no. Keep it. You can use it more than me. I’m all right.”

  With a big smile, Sam put another ingot next to the first. “You don’t understand. I have enough for both of us.” He put two more ingots down. “As for me, I believe that a nice little house on a piece of heavily forested property would be the perfect thing. You are welcome to join us. I don’t think the desert is really for me, and I have the perfect place in mind.” Winking at Nalia, he brought out a map from his backpack and started to explain.

  Epilogue

  Ix teleported away from the Sapsyr knowing that she had been given her life as a gift. Why had the woman not finished me? I was at her mercy, powerless.

  Ix had been raised to hold honor in the highest regard but she had not thought of such things for years. Was it perhaps honor that had saved her life? Not hers, but the warrior woman’s? She would have to think on it. Looking around her at the trees and the road to the entrance of the Gray Fortress less than a quarter mile away, she wondered about where her life had taken her.

  When she had teleported away from her room, she had just gone to a place nearby, close enough to where she had lived these last few years to easily walk back, but far enough that she was away from the intruders in the fortress. She thought to break her word and to return in a surprise attack on the woman and her father, but now she was not so sure.

  Seating herself, she calmed her mind and contemplated her situation. No doubt, the Gray Man had killed all three people, four if you included the old man, by now. Still, it was time for a change. She had been feeling more and more unfulfilled of late and it was time to leave. But where would she go and what would she do?

  An idea came to her as she sat, breathing deeply and focusing on nothing. Honor. What did it really mean? What was it really worth? Perhaps it was time she found the answers to these questions. Time to find out more about herself. Yes.

  With a suddenness she herself found surprising, she had made her decision. There were things she must do, answers she must seek, plans to make and complete. With barely a look at the massive fortress walls off to her right, the dark gray stone of the fortress itself illuminated by the early morning sun, she exerted her will and disappeared, teleporting to a place where she hoped to find the answers to all her questions.

  Be sure not to miss the sneak peak of the first chapter of Harmonics, the second book in the Harmonic Magic Series (at the very end of this book).

  Chapter 1

  Mattim Jinka had never seen so much excitement in his small village, not in all his ten years. Ok, maybe excitement wasn’t really the word for it, but of the words he knew, that one fit best. His parents and the other grown-ups in the village were standing around with the part of their head right above their eyebrows all crinkled up and their mouths seemed to have shrunken down to thin straight lines. It was strange, more than a little scary, and, well, exciting.

  He didn’t understand what was going on, but if he listened and watched very carefully, he might be able to. So far, his questions, and even his presence, were being ignored. Of course, he couldn’t blame the grown-ups. Four Zouyim monks were much more interesting than a young boy.

  “Matty, stay out from underfoot or someone will trip over you,” his mother said as he tried to squeeze his way into the throng around the monks. He just wanted to see them. He pretended he didn’t hear his mother and wriggled his way into the crowd. His effort was finally rewarded when he broke clear of the last of the villagers and found himself standing right next to one of the Zouyim.

  All four of them were dressed alike. Their clothes were light-colored, not quite white but sort of like a dirty white. They wore pants that were gathered at their waist and tied with sashes. Their soft sandals had strings on them that tied all the way up to their knees. Maybe that was to keep them from falling off. They had some kind of shirt on, too, but everything was covered by their robes, long enough to almost reach the ground.

  The monk in front of Mattim looked down at him and smiled. He smiled back. He liked this man. He seemed kind. His long white hair was tied behind him and his beard, thin and sort of scraggly, sat on his chin like the reverse of a shadow, one of the shadows you’d see on a cloudy day, not looking like it was all there. His white eyebrows arched when one of the other monks, the only woman among them, spoke.

  “You must bring everyone to the cellar of the meeting hall. Things will go badly if you are visible when the soldiers get into the village,” she said sternly. Mattim thought that she was maybe as old as his mother. She was a hefty woman, but she moved lightly, like all the Zouyim monks. Her yellow hair was cut short and looked like it didn’t want to behave, just like his own hair. He decided he liked her, too.

  “But,” the mayor said, “we have to parley with them. I’m sure we can discuss things and come to some agreement. We’re reasonable.”

  “No,” the old monk said. “We,” he pointed to the other three monks—the woman and other two men, who were both younger than the woman was and looked like brothers—“will speak with them. We have had dealings with the Gray Man’s soldiers before. This force is not here to speak. They approach in an attack formation. We will try to reason with them, but I believe they will attack immediately. We have seen it before.”

  “But—” the mayor tried again.

  “No,” the monk repeated, his wispy moustaches swaying as he shook his head. “I must insist. For your own safety, go to the cellar. Any who do not may not survive this day.”

  Mattim goggled. Survive? Just what was going on here, anyway?

  There was discussion among the villagers, accompanied by hand-waving, head-shaking, and tsking noises. To Mattim, it seemed like when he poured water on the cone of an anthill, all bustling around with nothing to show for it.

  The mayor sighed, put his hands on his large belly, and spoke. “We respect the Zouyim and know you to be truthful and honorable. We’ll do as you ask.”

  “That is good,” the monk sa
id, squeezing Mattim’s shoulder absently. “You must hurry. The soldiers are almost here.”

  The villagers all stopped moving and slowly looked around as if they were lost or didn’t understand. To Mattim, it seemed like they were all practicing the face he constantly practiced, the one that said, “I really don’t know what you’re talking about. I never saw that cake.”

  “Go!” the older monk said firmly, but not unkindly. The command seemed to snap everyone out of whatever confusion they were in and they all headed for the main village meeting hall.

  Mattim made sure his mother saw him heading there along with everyone else and then, when she turned to look toward his sister, ducked out of sight and headed for one of his hiding places. He was not going to miss seeing the soldiers—whatever those were—or miss seeing the Zouyim talking with them.

  Mattim waited in his hiding place, behind the provisioner’s shop near the firewood bin, for a good long time. He would have a perfect view of the soldiers as they came into town. Already he could see a large shape in the distance coming up the winding dirt road. A cloud of dust surrounded it.

  As he waited for the shape to become clearer, he thought of all the stories he had heard about Zouyim monks. From their temple on Kokitura Mountain far to the south, they went out to help others in need and to look for more children to join them in their training.

  The Zouyim were users of magic. He had heard it was called rohw, but didn’t understand what it had to do with boats and paddles. A single monk could beat up a thousand men or fifty pantors and if they got tired, they could use magic to make the day turn to night or the summer turn to winter, freezing their opponents solid in ice. They could see two hundred miles and could read your mind, even make you do things you didn’t want to, like take a bath. They could walk over a lake and fly if they wanted to and no one could tell them what to do. They were the most powerful thing in the world. And there were four of them here. Four!