by C B Samet
Before I could knock, Orrick opened the door. “Wonderful. Abigail, come in, won’t you?”
I stepped inside to the smell of cinnamon and nutmeg. I never knew what fragrances would dominate in Orrick’s home since he was always working on some potion or other. This was one of the more pleasant scents, though he could’ve simply made a pot of tea with those herbs.
When I walked inside with the door closed, Orrick extended his hand, palm up. A deep sapphire-colored stone rested in it.
“A Che stone?” I asked.
“Yes. This is the Spirit Stone,” Mal said. His voice held a twinge of nervous excitement.
“Spirit?” I looked back and forth between Mal and Orrick. “Your mother’s spirit.”
“That’s correct,” Orrick said. “We’d like you to meet her.”
“Meet your mother?” I had the sudden urge to check my hair and my clothing. I didn’t think I’d worn suitable attire to meet the former Queen of Karnelik—and Mal’s mother.
“It’s her spirit—an imprint of sorts,” Mal explained. He reached forward and laid his hand on the stone.
With both brothers touching the Che stone, Isabel Dallik materialized in transparent form before us. She appeared as I’d seen her in the memory crystal—about ten years older than me, with long, flowing brown hair. She wore a simple, slate-colored dress with silver embroidery around the neckline.
“The Avant Champion, we meet at last,” she said.
I gave a slight bow. “Queen Dallik.”
“You’ve saved both of my sons from the lives I’d trapped them in—you may call me Isabel.”
“And I’m Abigail.”
She smiled. “Yes, you are—and you’re as lovely as the visions I’d had of you.”
“Mal said you wanted to teach me magic. Orrick’s type of magic? Magic not beholden to stones?”
She clasped her hands together. “Yes. I created this imprint of me so that long after my passing, I could impart my knowledge to you. I can teach you magic that involves accessing all stones, even without physical contact. Also, Orrick has been documenting spells in his books. We need to teach you those as well.”
“I want to learn. I truly do. Right now, though, I’m preparing a trip to Bellos, and I’m trying to arrange everything before I go.” I also wanted to mention that raising three children without their father might be less conducive to dedicated magical study, but I didn’t want to appear ungrateful for the offer.
“It’s unfortunate I wasn’t here sooner, to start your training before this trip.”
I frowned. “Is there something about this trip that would require me to know, or have, more magic than I already do?” I had superhuman speed and strength. If that weren’t enough, what would be?
“This imprint of me doesn’t possess the ability to see the future—but I’m sure your abilities will suffice for the task at hand. I’d merely hoped to start your training as soon as we met. Mastery of magic is a life-long endeavor.”
I raised my hands. “Well, fortunately for me, I’ve a long-life ahead of me—since I consumed the Aquas Santos.” Even as I light-heartedly said the words, I wondered if the statement still held true. The vision I’d had of my death still haunted me. I didn’t see it for long enough or closely enough to tell my age. With the water of longevity in my veins, I couldn’t tell if my future corpse had been my current age or twenty years from now.
“And what is it in my future that has me needing to know powerful magic?” I asked.
“This imprint of me doesn’t possess the ability to see the future. I’m designed to teach you magic only.”
“Because my life depends on it?” I probed.
“This imprint of me…”
“…does not have the ability to see the future. Okay, I’ve got it.” I glanced at Orrick. “Is there something about the future she wanted to keep from us?”
Orrick shook his head. “I suspect she wouldn’t want this spirit to give any false or mis-information. My mother may have foreseen you and left items for you—the crystal and this stone—in the event her visions were true; but trusting all future visions enough to make them accessible in the future could be dangerous.”
I, of all people, knew the danger of a misinterpreted vision. Mal had seen Joshua’s death in the form of a man dying of old age, when in fact the use of magic had rapidly aged him and taken his life. With that imagery, I decided Isabel made the right decision. I didn’t want to know the future and be the victim of either false fear or false hope.
I turned to Isabell’s apparition. “Come what may, and I accept your offer to learn magic. We can start when I return from Bellos, in under a week’s time.”
That evening, I brought the family together again. I stood in the library and updated everyone to the situation of my “small” trip. I’d packed Rebekah’s belongings for her to stay with her grandmother, and Natalie had packed her own bags to go to the castle.
Paul sat by the fireplace, whittling on a small piece of wood. His dark hair was a heap upon his head. Natalie sat staring at the fire, and Rebekah played with a piece of quartz she’d brought inside from her rock garden.
Orrick relaxed on the sofa with his robes fanned out, as he stroked his long, white beard. Raven sat on the mantle, swinging her small feet off the edge. Fury curled in a furry ball at Paul’s feet.
I delivered a concise and emotionless update that I’d be departing soon and what to expect in terms of my return. Most of my lack of emotion was the result of fatigue.
I’d buried my emotional distress by keeping busy during these days of preparation. I didn’t like scattering my children and saying goodbye, but I reminded myself I could return to them in an instant. But war was coming. My platter of obligation continued to overflow, and that eroded into my time with my children.
“Stop pacing,” Orrick scowled.
“I’m not pacing.” I crossed my arms.
“Not you, dear. Malakai is pacing. It’s very distracting.”
Mal made himself visible, stopped pacing, and dropped into a chair he created. He’d apparently only been visible to Orrick. I wondered how often he did that—enabling one person, or no one, to see him.
Paul jerked his head up, confused. “Who?”
Raven clarified, “Malakai is Orrick’s brother. He’s a spirit. Wait.” She turned to Orrick. “I thought you couldn’t see him?”
“I performed a spell so I can now see him,” Orrick explained.
“You can see spirits?” Paul asked me.
The room went silent, with breaths held. A son, thinking of his deceased father, might ask such a question with a hopeful tone.
“Only Mal’s spirit.” I wrung my hands together. “We connected somehow at the battle of Marrin Beach.”
Paul’s shoulders sagged as he stared into the fire. After a moment, he stood. “I’m going to bed. You’ll say goodbye before you leave?”
“Of course. It’s not for two more days.”
We hugged, and I gave him an extra squeeze and kiss of reassurance.
“Come on, Rebekah,” Natalie summoned. “Bedtime.”
The two girls left the room hand-in-hand, with Natalie tugging a reluctant Rebekah behind her.
When Paul left, Orrick stood. “I’m sorry, dearest Abigail. I shouldn’t have mentioned Malakai.”
“It’s okay. Mal’s part of my life. The children ought to know him.”
Mal pressed his fingers together and pressed them to his lips.
Mal’s part of my life.
My words seemed to have a profound impact on Mal. I wondered: In a good way, or bad?
Orrick placed a hand on my shoulder. “Be safe on your journey.”
I eyed him carefully. “Those sounded more like words of caution than words of encouragement.”
He gave me a sad smile. “I wish you had time to learn some of Mother’s spells.”
I was in favor of learning whatever magical knowledge Isabel wished to impart on me, but that was not my
pressing priority. The most magic I’d managed to read in the last year was a spell book on energy transference. The time commitment for magical mastery sounded daunting. I’d do it, but after we settled political strife with Bellos.
“Well, if it comes to war—which judging by your and Mal’s melancholy, it will—I’ll make more time.”
“I’ll watch over Paul,” he assured me.
I gave Orrick a kiss on the cheek. He turned, wriggled his eyebrows at Mal, and left.
Mal crossed his arms and glared at his brother.
“You’ll help me on this mission?” I asked.
“Every step.”
“You speak Bellosian?”
Mal cocked my head to one side. “I’m over seven-thousand-years old. I’m fluent in every language.”
“I need you to be secret eyes and ears. I need you to be a spy, not a prince.”
“Consider it done.”
He gave me a flourishing bow. I tried to conceal my grin.
“What’s next?” Mal asked.
“Bath and bed,” I replied.
“Really? Did you want company with those?”
I gave him a devious and seductive smile. “Yes. Fury, heel.”
The wolf jumped to his feet and followed me out of the room.
“Lucky dog,” Mal grumbled.
I rounded the corner, hearing Raven’s voice, “Mal, if you’re here, head my warning: Treat Abigail well. Friends don’t disappear on friends. If you do that to her again, you’ll have me to answer to.”
I slowed my steps to eavesdrop.
“It was a mostly mutual agreement,” he countered, even though his words were lost on Raven’s ears.
8
MALAKAI
The following morning, Snake Eyes informed me that Orrick had requested my presence. I appeared inside his small house. It sat on Abigail’s property, only a hundred meters from her home. His abode had two rooms—one large room that served as a kitchen and a sitting room, plus another room, which was a bedroom and a bathroom. Orrick had covered the wooden walls with a mix of colorful drapes, and shelves of pottery and books. I suspected he wanted his home to look nothing like the forest where he’d spent the last seven millennia.
“Wonderful! You’re here. Into the circle with you.”
I inspected the room and stepped into the copper circle on the floor of Orrick’s living room. This was the same circle I’d stepped into over a year ago. Orrick had subsequently performed a magical spell enabling him to hear and see me.
“What are you up to?” I asked.
“All good deeds,” my brother assured me, though a mischievousness gleamed in his eyes.
I looked at Snake Eyes, who gave me a shrug.
Standing in the circle, I crossed my arms and waited. Orrick stirred a potion on his kitchen stove.
A knock came at the door.
“Oh, they’re here.”
“Orrick?” I wanted to know what magic he intended on conjuring.
When he opened the door, Abigail’s children bounded into the room.
“Wonderful! Thank you for coming.” Orrick clapped his hands together.
“What’s that smell?” Natalie waved a hand in front of her nose and Paul and Rebekah covered their mouths and noses.
Smell? I couldn’t smell, but I did know one particular spell involving sulfur—and the unpleasant rotten-egg smell accompanying it.
“Now,” Orrick began, handing Natalie a pin. “I need one drop of blood from each of you.”
Blood. Sulfur. The copper circle.
My eyes went wide. “You’re going to enable the children to see and hear me? Will that work?” Excitement rose within me. My circle of contact was slowly expanding.
Orrick shot me a look as if to say: ‘Of course it will work.’
“Wait. Do you have Abigail’s permission?” She might not want her children exposed to me. My past behavior had never been children-friendly. I might be myself now, but that wouldn’t last forever.
“Their mother is aware and approves.”
Natalie—ever steadfast—pricked her finger without hesitation. Orrick used a thick, triangular piece of paper to absorb the drop of blood. Paul took the pin from her and steeled his gaze. He wouldn’t show reluctance when Natalie had performed the task with ease. Orrick turned the piece of paper and collected the drop.
Rebekah took the pin with a worried expression. “I don’t want to.”
“No one is forcing you,” Orrick said.
“Don’t you want to see an ancient spirit?” Paul asked.
Natalie crossed her arms. “You’ve scraped your knees worse than a pin-prick.” She extended her finger to show Rebekah the spot where she’d been pricked, which had already coagulated.
Rebekah grimaced, lined up the pin with her finger, closed her eyes, and jabbed. A small drop of blood welled. Orrick turned the paper to the last side and absorbed the drop. Rebekah handed him the pin and stuck her finger in her mouth.
Orrick walked to the stove, dropped the paper in the simmering contents of the pot, and set the pin down on the table.
“What makes you think this will work?” I asked.
Orrick stirred the potion. “Abigail’s children are the offspring of two stone-bearers. They’ve enough magical tendencies in their blood that this will work—and if that theory is incorrect, they’re also the children of the woman who’s been able to see you all along.”
I waited in anticipation. I’d known all of Abigail’s children for all their lives, without them knowing me. All of that was about to change.
Orrick used a glass pipet to collect the pink potion from the pot. He carried it over and dripped drops onto the floor inside the copper circle. A pink mist swirled up and around me.
Any moment, I’d become visible to them. I felt humbled Abigail had chosen to share her children with me.
“It’s pretty,” Rebekah said.
“Whoa!” Paul exclaimed. “Is that Mom’s friend?”
I gave him a flourishing bow.
“Wait.” Natalie put her hands on her hips. “I thought you said he was your brother. He looks like your son.”
Orrick scratched his beard. “Yes, well, different spells kept us immortal at different paces. As such, I appear older than Mal.”
“Mal!” Rebekah squealed.
“Much older,” Natalie commented.
I chuckled.
“Are we done here? Mo and I are making brisket.”
“Yes, Paul,” Orrick said. “Thank you for your time.”
As Paul left, Natalie scrutinized me. “Does he do anything?”
Orrick smacked his lips together. “Well, Mal’s been known to talk excessively, and brood.”
I shot him a look, before turning a charming smile on Natalie. “I’m an excellent advisor, a wealth of historical information, and a chess master.”
“And humble,” Orrick added.
“I like chess. Maybe we can play sometime. Right now, I have to get to my riding lessons.” Natalie turned and left.
“Do you want to see my rock collection?”
I looked down at Rebekah, who’d walked over to stand beside me.
“I’d be delighted.”
She reached up to take my hand but went directly through me.
“Sorry. I’m a spirit, so I can’t touch anything—and nothing can touch me.”
She swiped her hand through mine and giggled with delight. She walked through me, turned, and walked back through me again.
I grinned. “At least someone finds me entertaining. Let’s see that rock garden, Rebekah.”
I followed the little girl out of Orrick’s home.
Later that day, I caught up with Abigail at the monk sanctuary. She walked through the vast canyon. I observed the tall canyon walls—like multicolored ribbons of burnt oranges and reds bowing on either side of us. The rush of the river water that cut through the canyon could be heard echoing around us.
One pool of water off to the west
was the Aqua Santos—life-giving water—rippling in the breeze. All who drank of it had prolonged life. In addition, those who drank gained vibrant blue irises. In Abigail’s case, they’d become an intoxicating ocean azure I could drown myself in.
Abigail had come to the monk sanctuary during her quest to become the Avant Champion and ultimately defeat me, as Malos, in battle. Her journey through the canyon had begun with rafting along the river and culminated in plummeting down the falls. Joshua had healed her broken leg, and the monks had welcomed them into their fold.
“You’re quiet,” Abigail commented.
She walked past a grassy knoll by the river, beyond the mess hall, and toward the bird sanctuary. I assumed she searched for Zack, one of the monk leaders.
“I’m humbled and grateful that you shared Natalie, Paul, and Rebekah with me.”
“Did Orrick’s spell work?”
“It did. I spent an hour learning the names of Rebekah’s rock family.”
Abigail chuckled. “She’s proud of her collection.”
“It’s impressive. Paul had to get back to the kitchen. I think he’d have been more interested if I were a fire-breathing dragon. Come to think of it, I could do that for him. Natalie and I have a date for chess.”
“That should be fun. Are you going to use your molten lava-colored chess pieces?”
“Naturally. Nothing but the best for the Champion’s daughter.” I lowered my voice. “And I am sincerely flattered you shared them with me.”
She nodded but didn’t make eye contact as she continued walking. “You said you’re back for good. If you’re part of my life, you ought to be part of theirs, too. When Orrick suggested he try his spell with my children, I accepted. When I’d told the children I wanted them to meet a friend of mine, who happens to exist in spirit form, they seemed excited.”
I suspected she hadn’t made the decision as lightly as she made it sound.
“Do they know…”
“No,” she said. “They don’t know you’re Malos. As far as I’m concerned, you and he aren’t the same person… or entities.”
“One day…”
Abigail turned to look at me. “Yes, one day you’ll return to your cage. Until that time—enrich our lives, Mal. Enrich your own. Live life even if you’re not alive in the strictest definition of the term.”
