Good Luck, Bad Luck

by Jenni Ward

  “You know that you can’t take the life of a mortal...”

  “Now did I say that I was going to do that? Tut-tut, baby brother, why do you always think the worst of me? I want more power, not anything at all.” Cecilia let go of Quinn who continued to look intently at the paving stone that they stood on. “You are so focused on me that you never see the big picture – that is why you will never win against me.”

  Cecilia continued walking, and Quinn remained where he stood, watching her glide along the pavement, her shoes clicking as she walked. Her words lingered though, and Quinn wondered what the big picture could be...

  Moving into the trees, Quinn waved his hand. A sparkle of blue light surrounded his hand before it spread out, enveloping him fully. The familiar experience had no impact on him as Cecilia’s words haunted his thoughts. When the magic settled, he looked around at where he stood; back in the book building in Tiani. He sighed with relief that his planned entrance within the walls of the building had been successful but stood frozen as he listened for any sounds, just in case.

  After wandering around downstairs in the eerie silence that permeated the atmosphere, Quinn sighed. He would have been able to see more had he been able to light a candle, but with the darkness outside he certainly didn’t want to attract the attention of a certain village member. All around him, Quinn noted, were piles of books abandoned on the floor and tables. It was an odd sight to see the books disturbed – especially after putting them back on the shelves before leaving with Mary. He raised his eyebrows at the thought of what the dragons would think if they saw the building as it was. For the briefest of moments, he thought about putting the books back on the shelves. A half-smile played on Quinn’s lips at Prater’s reaction upon seeing the books back where they belonged.

  With such a thought still in his mind, Quinn decided it would be best to remove the temptation and walked upstairs. At the top of the stairs, in front of the only door off the landing, Quinn paused. He knew that there was really no reason to go into the room – it wasn’t as if there would be something, or rather someone, there – but despite this his hand found the handle and turned it anyway.

  As he closed the door silently behind himself, Quinn surveyed the room. A layer of dust had already formed over the few objects in the room. The room felt oddly cold, sad, or perhaps it felt that way because of its emptiness. Opposite the room was Mary’s bed, neatly made as if she was busy downstairs with the books. Quinn turned, realising the room contained no personal possessions.

  The quilt, it was a sudden, odd thought, but the quilt did indeed signify some care and life had existed in the room. Walking over to the bed, Quinn lowered himself down onto the quilt. The index finger of his right hand traced over the stitches. The room was empty, Quinn knew that, yet oddly he had a sense of Mary – as if part of her still lingered in the room.

  Another sigh. Quinn knew his magical house was far superior, and yet it was simply a house that he had created as part of his training with Cashel – an ideal house, and up until that moment he’d never considered anything else – certainly not anything real.

  “WHAT NEWS?” CASHEL asked Quinn as he entered the room through the front door. With Mary gone he might have just as easily appeared directly in the room, but Quinn had become accustomed to entering through the door – it made him feel less like a sorcerer and more human.

  “What?”

  “News, Quinn: what news?”

  Quinn looked away from his mentor as he walked further into the room, contemplating how much he should tell and how long he could conceal the truth from Cashel.

  “Cecilia hasn’t been at her house near Riejan for some time; it has been all but abandoned,” Quinn replied and took off his black coat and draped it over the back of his chair before he settled down in front of the fire. As he closed his eyes, he felt an immense tiredness come over him and felt no motivation to do anything else for the day.

  “You have been gone some time; surely you have more news?”

  “She’s gone from the Great Forest – I traced her as far as the Great Sea, but I don’t know where she has gone. Cecilia could be across the waters or living next door.” Quinn didn’t mention the conversation they had.

  “You must not give up.” Cashel leaned forward in his chair with all the urgency of a man close to death. “You are close, Quinn, so close to defeating your sister. You have come so far and I know you have sacrificed a lot, but the knowledge we have, the power that sorcerers hold, the Council continue to search for an end to this matter. Why it’s possible they might even find a way to take her power away or destroy her.”

  Quinn opened his eyes, but his face told of a dejected sorcerer who had lost his purpose, lost his will. “I don’t want to destroy her, Cashel! Cecilia is still my sister – perhaps she is not as bad as I once thought.”

  “Pfff! Are you now going to sit there and claim that perhaps Cecilia might actually be in love with Michael? That all she wants is happiness with no ulterior movements! You can’t be that naïve! I did not spend years training you to be so ignorant!”

  “And what happens when you are gone, Cashel? What will I have? Perhaps Cecilia is a little misguided...but I get it...I get some of where she is coming from.”

  “Quinn, you are young. Once you have taken care of Cecilia, you will have time on your hands to go to The Academy and meet a sorceress...”

  “What if I don’t want a sorceress?” the harsh words left Quinn’s lips before he had a chance to think about them.

  “Quinn!”

  Quinn relaxed in his chair. “I like being treated normally. I like not having to compete with shows of power...” Quinn rested his head in his hands.

  Memories of his time at The Academy tormented the back of his mind. He had hoped attending the school would provide refuge from thoughts of his missing parents. It did in a way. For two years, he had managed his studies, but then, at only fifteen, the Sorcery Council had given him the task of stopping Cecilia’s plans.

  He lifted his head and glanced at Cashel. The old man had been ready to leave The Academy when the Sorcery Council asked him to take on an apprentice. Quinn knew he had shelved his own plans to return across the sea to where he had been born. Cashel had no family to return to, having never been bound or had children. As Quinn looked at him he knew that wasn’t the future he wanted but one he quite possibly faced if Cecilia’s plan couldn’t be foiled.

  Cashel caught Quinn’s eyes. “Perhaps once Cecilia is no longer after the power and when all the dust settles you could see the Council. Who knows, with the talks between them and the Dragon Council maybe there is a way around the rule, maybe something could be done to...with Mary...maybe ...”

  Quinn smiled briefly in cynicism. “And perhaps there will be a day when the rules and councils are no longer needed.”

  As Quinn sat there in silence, watching the flames dancing on the wood, he heard Cashel let out a sigh, the kind he’d heard more frequently than in the years before.

  Chapter 21

  “Why have you come back, sorcerer?” Jharobi growled as he landed before Quinn again.

  “I agree to your terms,” Quinn replied. He felt confident in the decision despite knowing there might be more consequences than just losing his magic, particularly with the Sorcery Council.

  “You agree to relinquish your magic?” Surprise permeated Jharobi’s tone; he crouched down so that his head rested on his feet.

  “Yes.” Quinn saw again the look of an amused dragon as he puffed smoke from his nostrils.

  “You know that without your agreement I can’t take your powers away; I need to be sure that you understand what you are doing,” the dragon paused and inclined his head to one side. “You fully understand the consequences of what you are asking?”

  “Yes.”

  The dragon opened his mouth before closing it again. He sat there looking at Quinn for a few moments. “I will ask just once more, sorcerer, do you agree to relinquish your magic
in order to break a binding spell?”

  “Yes.” Quinn stood emotionless before the dragon. He felt that if he let his emotions or thoughts interfere again, he might just leave.

  With another puff of smoke, the dragon raised himself up until he sat before Quinn.

  “I don’t really understand why you are doing this, but I will respect your decision all the same.” The dragon spread his wings out before adding, “You have a long walk ahead of you, sorcerer,” and with those words, the dragon took off into the sky, vanishing against the sunlight

  “What? That’s it?” Quinn called after the dragon but Jharobi didn’t return. He’d expected something more elaborate than a verbal agreement, though he’d never seen a dragon perform magic before.

  Quinn turned around and wondered how he would get back to his house. He hadn’t considered that he wouldn’t be able to magically locate it, and now it would take several weeks to reach. He knew he would need to pass through many villages – including Tiani. He consoled himself knowing that this time he would be a mere mortal. The thought Prater might recognise him - even with fresh clothes and a shaven face - niggled at the back of his mind. Of course, when he reached home, he would have to get inside and that posed an entire new set of problems.

  “Not sure I thought this through enough,” he muttered as he stared at the trees before him.

  Quinn made his own path as he descended the mountain. His thoughts turned to the immediate task of how long it would take to reach the bottom. Time pressed in on him knowing that as soon as Cecilia found the binding broken she would look to restart her plan.

  “Ah, I probably should have put something in place. Maybe left Cashel a note. That probably would have been a great idea. A great idea unless he found it first, then I’d be listening to a lecture on all the reasons why it was a stupid thing to do...”

  At first, his feet managed to avoid the roots from the trees and the petrified branches that lay on the ground, but then a stick decided he was in the way. He reached down and saw a small hole at the bottom of the pants. Quinn lifted it up as a pool of blood formed near his ankle. Healing had not been one of his magic skills. Some sorcerers could think about healing and it would happen, but Quinn had never managed to heal even the smallest of grazes. Cecilia had been no better from what he remembered. Only a handful of sorcerers were made into healers and most of them were useless at the rest of the magic.

  Bending down, he pressed his thumb against the cut to try and stop the blood. He glanced back to the hole in his pants and winced. Unlike healing, Quinn had mastered mending of other materials including fabric and if he’d had his magic he could have fixed it - if he had his magic. He shook his head before moving his thumb.

  “Oh, come on.” The blood started to slowly leave the cut again. He yanked the cuff of the pants back down.

  He looked up to see light still shining through the tree canopy. It felt like he’d been walking for hours, but he knew he had to keep moving until the darkness settled under the trees.

  “Ah yes, darkness. That will be just what I need as well. The Academy really didn’t prepare me for all this. Want to fix something - use magic. Want to start a fire - use magic. Want to do anything - use magic. Because magic is the great and wonderful difference that makes us better than humans,” Quinn grumbled. He kicked a stone and watched as it disappeared into bushes to his side. “Humans might not have magic, but they make their houses with their hands, cook food, build a fire, and can fix a damn hole in their clothes.”

  He continued down the path until the trees blocked out any useful amount of light. With the darkness settled, Quinn sat down on a fallen tree trunk and pulled his aching foot closer. The blood had stopped, but streaks of dried blood trailed from the wound to his socks. He untied his boot and rolled his eyes.

  “Clearly these boots weren’t made for walking.”

  He eyed the holes in the sides and heel of the sock with contempt. Quinn contemplated removing the socks altogether but could see the way the sock clung to the back of his heel. He sighed into the night and stretched his leg back out to enjoy the coolness of the air as it passed around his foot. The moment of relief passed and he replaced his boot before he reached into his other boot to extract the small knife from within, relieved he’d thought to bring something. The blade fell into the grass beside him and he allowed his other foot to enjoy the coolness.

  “Humans, it would seem, aren’t as stupid as we’re told.”

  He pulled his coat tighter around his body. His eyes watched for anything odd, but the shadows blended into the darkness. Quiet noises caused his gaze to dart from one place to another. Still, he knew that the loudest of the noises came from him. His stomach growled and he tried to ignore it as he slid onto the ground beside the trunk and curled himself in a ball. Despite his reservations about being attacked or eaten, sleep won out.

  Chapter 22

  Entering the village of Tiani, Quinn pulled his coat around him tightly, partially concealing his face. He had been walking the dirt roads that connected the villages, towns and cities for over a week and had the blistered feet to prove it. A farmer had provided Quinn with some relief and allowed him to travel in the rear of a cart, but they had parted ways in Haversy. While Quinn had been reluctant to stop, he rested the night under a tree as he had no money or goods to barter for a night indoors. A small stream had allowed him to clean himself of some of the dirt and grime, and a blade in his boot allowed him to keep any beard from appearing, though not without a learning curve.

  He passed the burial yard as the mid-afternoon sun shone high above and noticed very few of the villagers about. Quinn had reminded himself not to gaze too long at the book building once he entered Tiani, but now it loomed beside him he paused, feeling compelled to look.

  He stood on the street and stared through the open door. A few books were scattered on the ground, not destroyed, but ill-treated. Quinn felt a pang of guilt knowing his own actions made him partly responsible for the current state of the book building.

  Quinn glanced around the street; the few people that were around weren’t paying him any attention. He licked his lips before heading to the building and stepping inside of it. His eyes adjusted to the lighting as he lingered in the corridor before going into the main room. Piles of books around the room made it look both chaotic and organised. Some of those piles he knew Mary had made, but the room had many more than when she had called for him.

  Perhaps someone went looking for something, Quinn turned, ready to walk closer to the closest pile. Of course, that would mean someone other than Mary could read here otherwise there would be no point.

  Quinn felt sure the dragons were all too aware of the books. Even as he turned around to look at the half-filled shelves he couldn’t escape the feeling the price to lift the binding might have been less had he not taken Mary away from the books.

  He turned and left the room and felt the sun on his skin once more. Quinn turned to look up at the glass panel above the doorway, the dragon protecting the knowledge of the building within. Time to go.

  “You there!”

  Quinn froze, the familiar voice sent a chill down his spine. Prater.

  “Yes, you there, with the long coat. Who are you?”

  Prater stopped in front of Quinn. He looked Quinn up and down; his eyes seemed to study Quinn. Quinn reached his hands out slightly, in both a greeting and to steady himself. He swallowed hard as Prater’s gaze remained on him.

  “Quinn.” For him it felt odd not adding anything additional about where he came from or even his title of that had to be used when in the presence of the Sorcery Council.

  Quinn shifted his feet as he tried to ignore Prater as he circled him at a slow pace. His eyes focused ahead to the well until Prater came into view beside him. Memories of their last encounter nagged Quinn’s mind. Prater came to a stop before him.

  “You done? Can I go now?”

  Prater smiled and resumed his course. With a sigh of frust
ration, Quinn did his best to avoid eye contact with Prater as he disappeared from view on his left before he reappeared on his right. After Quinn’s last encounter with Prater, he had no desire to be put through the same ordeal again.

  Quinn mentally shook his head to push the memory back and concentrate on the meeting before him.

  “What’s your business in this village?” Prater demanded.

  “Nothing, I’m just passing through on my way home.”

  “Really?” Prater stepped close to Quinn. “Ever been here before?” Prater continued to circle him.

  “No.” He’d never wished to be as good at lying as his sister but wished now he’d paid more attention to how she made herself so convincing. Quinn hoped he sounded confident enough to foil any of the ideas Prater might have had revolving around his mind.

  As Prater came to stand in front of him, Quinn saw Prater pull a piece of gold from a pocket in his long black coat. The gold sat neatly in the palm of his hand as he clutched it tight, watching Quinn.

  “Are you a sorcerer?” Prater’s eyes narrowed on Quinn.

  “No.”

  “I don’t like dragons but I spent a great deal of time trying to find a book. I don’t like books either; they have the habit of giving people ideas that are best not thought of. Sometimes though, and this is rare, I do learn something new or in this case, corrected something I thought I knew.”

  “You would need to know how to read to learn something new from a book.”

  Prater’s nose twitched. “We’ll just skip that bit as it’s not relevant to my point. You see I came across a book and I was bored so I opened it up. My father had told me that dragons and gold were a bad mix, that the gold could weaken their powers. Turns out, that was wrong. It turns out dragons aren’t affected by gold at all and actually have a fondness for all things shiny. Sorcerers though, those that possess the conjuring magic, they’re a different story. Did I mention I don’t like sorcerers either? Anyway, apparently a sorcerer can be weakened by just touching gold and since I’m in search of one, I’m ensuring no one sneaks past me again.”