“That’s weird,” Liam said, going over his notes. All of his books were in the finished pile. “I’ve always been told our numbers have declined since the Fracture.”
“They haven’t?”
“Oh, no, they have, just not as sharply as I’d expected. And it’s not the declining rate of magi I’m investigating. It’s the declining rate of magi who can wield. It was a slow, steady decline until about the eighteenth century, when it spiked. And then it did it again at the turn of the last century.”
“That is weird.” Allyn grabbed his notes and walked around the table to stand over Liam’s shoulder. His legs were beginning to cramp, and standing felt good. “Any idea why?”
“Did anything momentous happen around the eighteenth century?”
Allyn eyed him curiously before reading his notes. “The Industrial Revolution.”
Liam nodded with a knowing smile. “And more recently?”
Allyn didn’t have to consult his notes. “The digital revolution.”
“Exactly.”
Allyn rubbed his forehead with his thumb and index finger. “The magi’s declining numbers directly coincide with major advances in technology.”
“No,” Liam said. “Not our declining numbers. The number of magi who can wield.”
“What are you saying?”
Liam’s smile split his face in two. His eyes grew moist. “I’m a wizard with computers.”
Comprehension struck Allyn in the chest like one of Jaxon’s concussions of air. It was the answer he’d been looking for.
“Your magic isn’t dying,” Allyn said. “It’s evolving!”
Chapter 20
Liam crashed into Allyn. Crying and laughing, he wrapped his arms around Allyn in a tight embrace. Allyn returned the embrace, patting Liam on the back. He knew what it was like to cry tears of joy, and of relief. He’d done it after passing the bar exam, which had closed a door to that chapter of his life. He assumed that was how Liam was feeling.
“What now?” Allyn pulled away, still holding Liam by his shoulders.
Liam wiped his tears. “We tell everyone.”
Their excitement was quickly quashed as they entered the main level of the manor. The halls, which had been a chaotic mass of people earlier, were deserted and quiet.
“Where is everyone?” Concern filled Liam’s voice.
“I don’t know.”
Doors were ajar, exposing empty rooms, where belongings had been cast aside haphazardly as if the manor had been ransacked. If we’d been attacked, we would have heard something in the library, wouldn’t we? The library was essentially an enormous vault, both heavily insulated and climate controlled—a bomb shelter for ancient artifacts. The manor could crumble around it, but the library would remain intact.
Allyn entered a room. It was larger than his own, actually two rooms in one with a small eat-in kitchen. A crib rested at the foot of a queen-size bed, its blankets half on the floor. The separate room was hidden behind a half wall that extended just far enough to hide a second bed. Both were empty. Other than various nonessential items strewn about the room, nothing was out of the ordinary. No sign of a struggle or forced entry. Though very disorderly, the rooms were free of bodies, blood, or signs of battle. The occupants had fled.
Hurried footsteps echoed down the hall. Allyn quickly made for the door in time to see two men about his own age rushing down the hall with bags thrown over their shoulders. The one in the lead, a lanky man with shaggy brown hair, called out to the other, egging him on.
“Come on! They’ve already left!”
“Who left?” Liam called after them. Without answering, they continued to the end of the hall. Liam looked at Allyn, his face worried. “Something isn’t right.”
“Come on,” Allyn said, darting after them. Unencumbered by baggage, Liam and Allyn easily caught up to the two men then followed them through the main hall and into the grand entryway. The two men slowed as they stepped through the double doors into the night. Outside stood a figure masked in darkness. The men maneuvered around him like water flowing around a boulder then picked up their pace once they were beyond him.
Allyn and Liam stepped out onto the cement patio overlooking the grounds in front of the manor. It was a dark night with the moon and stars hidden behind a clouded sky. The wind had picked up into a steady gust that whipped through Allyn’s clothes as though he wore nothing at all. Rain hadn’t yet begun to fall, but if the cold, damp air was any indication, it wasn’t far off.
Motionless, Graeme stood outside the manor doors, his arms folded, watching as the two men raced down the gravel driveway, trying to catch up to a larger group ahead. “It’s done,” Graeme said, his voice nearly as dark as the night.
“Who is that?” Allyn asked, trying to make out the leader of the group.
“Jaxon.”
Jaxon? He was supposed to join a group of fleeing magi, not lead one.
“I should have known this would happen,” Graeme said. “Feigning weakness can expose where it already lies. Jaxon’s departure swayed those who were undecided, convincing them to flee. We lost another twenty after our… disagreement.”
They had agreed that for the splinter to appear authentic, the argument would need to be public. Not a play in the hall in front of an audience, but something loud enough to be heard by one or two magi. Rumors would spread from there, and Jaxon’s departure would confirm them, but the public spat seemed to have done more than they had anticipated. Jaxon was leading magi who thought they were involved in a real splinter. The plan was already falling apart. It was supposed to give them an advantage. But this left them weaker. “How many do we have left?”
“Fifteen,” Graeme said.
“Fifteen?” Liam asked, his voice cracking.
Allyn ran his hands through his hair. Fifteen against two Families. We don’t stand a chance.
“Fortunately,” Graeme said, “those who cannot wield were the first to leave. We have fifteen true magi.”
True magi. Those words would have once soured Liam and made him defensive or reclusive. Even still, confident and defiant, he scowled openly at his father, but Graeme didn’t seem to notice. What Graeme thought was good fortune was actually a liability. Graeme didn’t know what Allyn and Liam knew.
“They can wield,” Liam said.
Graeme turned to him.
“I can wield.”
Graeme blinked. “You can? Liam, that’s wonderful!” He reached for his son.
Liam backed away. “But not how you think.”
“I don’t understand,” Graeme said, lowering his arms.
“Our magic isn’t failing us. It’s evolving. I can’t wield the elements like a true magi or heal the sick and wounded like a cleric. My abilities are different.”
“How so?”
“I can speak with computers.”
Allyn winced. It sounded ridiculous.
“Or more specifically, I can build computer code.”
Graeme scowled. “This isn’t a time for games.”
“It isn’t a game. It’s true. The number of magi who could wield, the number of true magi”—Liam obviously had serious disdain for that distinction—“declined substantially in the mid- to late-eighteenth century. There was another deeper decline in the late-twentieth century. Don’t you see? The world is changing, and so are we! Like all dominant species, we’re adapting. Evolving.”
“Working with computers is a skill, Liam, not an ability.”
“A skill is something that’s acquired,” Liam said. “It takes thousands of hours to master, but from the first time I touched a computer, I could do incredible things with it. Ability is born inside us. Just like this was born inside me.”
This seemed to give Graeme pause. Allyn had long wonder
ed how Liam had acquired his first computer and why Graeme hadn’t promptly taken it away.
“And what about Allyn’s abilities?” Liam continued. “They’re something new. Jaxon and Nyla said they’re a form of electricity.”
“Suppose this were true,” Graeme said. “What then?”
“Then it’s likely that some, if not most, of the magi who cannot wield have another ability,” Liam said. “Something that mirrors the technological world.”
“And they just fled for another Family,” Allyn added.
The group of magi had traveled out of sight. Intermittent drops of rain began to fall, more surely to follow. Graeme continued to watch, as if willing the fleeing magi to return. “This is a disaster.”
“I don’t disagree,” Allyn said slowly, “but we are the only three people in the world who know the truth. Defeat Lukas tonight and lead the evolution of the magi race tomorrow. Die tonight, and the truth ends with us.”
“They’re our absolution,” Graeme said contemplatively. “This can heal the splinter, not just within our Family but within magi Families everywhere. This is the answer.” He took Liam’s face in the palm of his hand. “You’re our redemption. Our future.”
Liam swallowed a lump in his throat. “We need to finish Lukas first.”
Graeme nodded. “Assemble the magi.”
Fifteen of Graeme’s most trusted and loyal magi gathered with Allyn and Kendyl in the main entryway. They had bled for Graeme, they would bleed for him and, if necessary, they would die for him. They would say it was for the Family, but in Allyn’s estimation, Graeme was the only thing that held what little remained of the McCollum Family intact.
At a full head shorter than every male magi in the McCollum Family, Mason weighed no more than Liam did and was the least physically intimidating person Allyn had ever seen, but he was also one of the most powerful. Jaxon said the strongest magi weren’t usually the most physically endowed, and Mason was the living testament. His strength came from his depth of focus, his ability to listen to his body, and knowing just how far he could push himself.
Then there was Ren, the only female magi in the room and one of only two Allyn knew of. She was of average height and build, and she had pulled her sleek black hair into a tight ponytail. A deep scar ran down the bottom of her ear to the edge of her mouth, a blemish on an otherwise-porcelain face. She was quick to smile and quicker to wield. Her bravery was well known, and she was said to have saved Graeme on more than one occasion. She and Mason had been present during Kendyl’s rescue. They waited with the others for Graeme’s announcement.
Wearing compression armor that Leira had given her, Kendyl stood with Allyn. The black formfitting clothing looked like athletic gear, but it was tough to tear, water resistant, and flame retardant—modern armor for a modern war. Allyn would soon change into it, too.
Two people stood out from the sea of black—Nyla and a man Allyn had never met. But Vincent’s reputation preceded him. Despite his broad shoulders and even thicker neck, Vincent was softer than most. Clerics tended to be thicker, more filled out than the magi. Allyn suspected this was a symptom of their duties. Vincent and Nyla wore navy compression armor that separated them from the others in black.
Only two clerics, Allyn thought. Leira left with Jaxon, but where are the rest? Nyla and Vincent would be run ragged and overwhelmed if forced to heal a group that outnumbered them by so much.
Raindrops tapped the roof and windows in a steady rhythm, an ambient noise behind the murmurs of magi. The room smelled of sweat and fear as rumors spread through the gathered force faster than they would in a locker room. Including Graeme, Liam, Allyn, and Kendyl, the group was only nineteen strong, and the consensus was that Graeme would flee. Jaxon’s departure had shaken their confidence more than Allyn had expected. Graeme’s false splinter was deep enough to create a real one. Only Nyla was quiet because she knew Graeme wasn’t the type to run. He wouldn’t leave the manor and all its belongings to the man who would destroy it.
A collective gasp overtook the crowd as Graeme strode in under the arch of the grand staircase, wearing a sleeveless leather doublet. A deep red with a series of silver buckles running up the chest, it was emblazoned with the magi symbols of fire, water, and air—each displayed in vibrant yellows, blues, and whites. It was bold and traditional. If anyone had doubts about Graeme’s intentions, this answered them. This was war apparel.
Liam was at his side—as his equal. He wore black compression armor embroidered with silver and gold, and his grim expression matched his father’s. The murmurs grew silent as they stopped in front of the gathered Family members. Graeme surveyed them, holding each of their gazes for a short span, nodding subtle encouragements to a few before moving on.
“I stand before you a humbled man,” Graeme said as a gust of wind howled outside. “In my attempts to hold this Family together, I’ve broken it apart. My grip was too firm. Our numbers are dwindling, our power declining, our influence dissipating. Worse, the world and the technological ideology I rejected may hold the key to our redemption, but I’ve cast them aside, unwanted, unneeded, unaccepted. And now they’re with the enemy. I don’t deserve to stand in front of you tonight, nor do I expect you to stand and fight with me.”
Allyn shifted uncomfortably. He wasn’t the only one. Confused, the magi around him looked at each other. Was Graeme trying to push away the only people he still had on his side?
“Yet, for the first time in a long time, I stand here hopeful.”
Liam stood a little straighter and took a deep breath. He can’t be comfortable being the center of attention.
“Our numbers are not dwindling. Our power is not declining. Our influence will return. I know this because I’ve learned of a secret. A new breed of magi has been born. They’ve lived among us undiscovered, unaware of their abilities, thinking themselves failures. Machinists, I’ve come to call them.”
Eighteen sets of eyes locked onto Allyn, and it was his turn to feel uncomfortable.
“It was Liam who brought reason to my doorstep, knowledge to my chamber, truth to my soul. He is a machinist, perhaps the first of his kind, and his abilities aren’t anything like ours. Ours are from a different age when we lived with different struggles, needed different abilities. Fire and water, once vital for survival, are now plentiful, simple to produce. The ability has become redundant, one we do not need anymore and are thus losing. The world is changing, and so shall we. So we are.
“The machinists are the magi race’s response to the digital age. Computers are the new fire, the Internet the new water, electricity the new air. And so we’ve evolved. The scope of the machinists’ abilities are unknown, but their presence is undeniable.”
Liam stepped forward, taking center stage, his phone glowing in his hands. He held it in front of him so that the screen faced the group, and even though he hadn’t touched a button, the demonstration began. First, the light above the chandelier flickered on and off. Then the lights on the wall followed suit. Table lamps and stand lamps in nearby rooms were next. The home phone rang in the distance. Even the smoke alarm went off. Every electronic device within sight or earshot came to life.
Cries of disbelief and shouts for it to stop echoed through the chamber. Annoyed magi covered their ears. Others were frightened, some bewildered, but most were encouraged. Liam had given them an impressive display. And as abruptly as it began, it stopped.
Graeme stepped forward, placing his hand on his son’s shoulder. “Here we stand, nineteen strong, but fighting for the magi future. If we die tonight, this secret dies with us, and so too will our race. I won’t let that happen. When this threat is neutralized, we will tell the Families of our discovery, and we will be hailed as heroes. We will thrive. But first, we have to live.”
Collective agreement rippled through the assemblage, along with a couple sho
uts of support as magi nodded to one another.
“Tonight, we fight. Tonight, we win. Tonight, we preserve our place in history.” The shouts grew louder and more enthusiastic, becoming a battle cry. “Let’s get to work.”
The thunderous reception shook the floor. If Lukas was anywhere near the manor grounds, he had heard it.
Graeme quickly organized them into various groups assigned with defending the manor. With over one hundred rooms, six entrances and exits, and countless windows, securing the manor was an impossible task, so they would channel Lukas’s force through the manor in a predetermined path. The teams would lay traps and construct barriers. They boarded up windows, barricaded doors, and blocked entire hallways from wall to wall with furniture, appliances, and anything else that was bulky and heavy. When that ran out, they moved outside, using lawn furniture, firewood, and boulders. At one point, Allyn even saw two magi carrying what was left of a tree trunk on their shoulders.
Graeme sent Allyn to train with Mason.
“You’ll be of no help to anyone if you can’t defend yourself,” Graeme had said.
Jaxon had instructed him not to use hot anger as a catalyst, but with Mason as his instructor, Allyn found that difficult. The short man made up for his small frame with a big mouth. Loud, direct, and condescending, Mason was a terrible instructor. They were on the second floor deck, under the overhang and hidden from the rain, but their breath billowed into the cold air like smoke. Mason, who only came to Allyn’s shoulder, paced around him in a tight circle.
Fracture (Book 1) Page 23
