by Gregory Heal
Jen, still mute, nodded and shook her hand. Mira had shiny, jet-black hair woven into a thick braid that went all the way down to the small of her back. Her skin was a delightfully dark tan, and her high cheekbones made Jen think she was Native American. She was wearing a mustard-yellow halter top with form-fitting khaki cargo shorts and hiking boots. As she turned, the metal on her whip glistened as it caught the sunlight. The snakeskin was patterned in off-white and dark-gray scales, and its tip seemed to have thin, metal strands that swayed like tassels.
“Hi,” Jen responded, finally finding her voice. She looked at Mystra Wingelius and said, “Thank you for your help, ma’am.”
“It is my duty. If you’re going to succeed as an animancer, you might as well learn from the best,” Wingelius said matter-of-factly.
Jen’s eyebrows twitched slightly in response to Wingelius’s arrogance, but she remembered that Victor did warn her. “I’ll try not to disappoint,” she said politely.
“You have big shoes to fill. Your father was a gifted omnimancer, especially in the animancy plane.” Wingelius didn’t waver in her rigid posture.
“It’s my goal to make him and my mother proud.”
There was a pause. Wingelius’s eyes closed to slits. “We’ll see.”
Jen didn’t know how to respond, so she bounced her gaze from Wingelius to Mira, then to Victor, who finally said, “Jen’s looking for a place to stay while she’s here on Camelore. Mira, don’t you have an open bunk in your hut?”
Mira’s eyes lit up as she exclaimed, “I can definitely make room!” She looked at Jen for confirmation. “If you’d like?”
Jen was glad Victor had changed the subject. “Sure. Sounds fun!”
If it was possible, Mira’s smile grew larger. “It’s been so long since I’ve had a roomie!” She turned to her mystra and asked, “Would it be okay if I show Jennifer my hut?” Mira clasped her hands in front of her, trying to hold in her excitement.
After a few seconds of stoic pondering, Mystra Wingelius agreed. “You’re free to do as you wish, since we’re done with your lesson for today.”
Mira squealed in delight and took Jen’s arm. She spun her around and led Jen back toward the circle of huts. “It’s not terribly big, but I think you’ll find it cozy. And we need to start thinking about the decorating!”
Jen let herself be led by the exuberant girl, relieved to end her meeting with the intimidating Mystra Wingelius.
As Jen and Mira were sprinting off into the distance, Victor gave Wingelius a knowing look and said, “Go easy on her, Chanda. A week ago, she had no idea where she came from.”
Wingelius didn’t break her gaze from Jen’s retreating form. “Draconex and his minions will not go easy on her, Victor. She hasn’t the slightest clue what she’s getting in to, and I intend to prepare her for the best chance of living to see another day.” She looked at Victor squarely. “Survival of the fittest.”
Jen swore her arm was going to pop out of its socket if Mira ran any faster. They were almost to the circle of huts, but as luck would have it, Mira’s was of course the farthest one away.
“Mira, slow down!” Jen said.
Caught off guard, Mira decreased her speed and released Jen’s wrist. Looking back at Jen, who was panting and rubbing her wrist, she turned red with embarrassment. “Oh, I’m really sorry, Jennifer . . . sometimes I forget about my powers when I’m excited.” Mira flashed an apologetic smile as she and put a hand on Jen’s heaving back. “I have a condition.”
“It’s . . . all right,” Jen said between gulps of air. Straightening up to feel a cramp still in her side, she added, “And you can call me Jen.”
Mira turned from embarrassed to delighted. “Okay, Jen.”
“You were using animancy before?” Jen asked, wiping sweat from her brow.
“Yep! I was channeling a cheetah, my favorite animal. Sorry again . . .”
Jen chuckled. “It’s okay, really. Cheetah, huh? It must come easily to you.”
“It’s definitely second nature, but I’ve been told to be more aware of when I use it,” Mira replied, looking back at her mystra, who was already far off in the distance.
Jen looked back too. “Is Mystra Wingelius always like that?”
Mira snorted. “Like what? Serious? Intense? Usually. But as you get to know her, you’ll pick up on her sense of humor. Trust me, if you manage the impossible and get her to laugh, let alone smile, your day is made.”
Jen laughed, quickly joined by Mira. “Have you ever gotten her to laugh?” Jen was curious.
“Only when I’m clumsy and do something silly during my lessons,” Mira confessed, “but I don’t care. I get her to laugh, so I know she’s not all business all the time.”
Jen liked that. She told herself to remember to look on the bright side if her training became too much.
Mira put her hands on her hips and looked in the direction where they were going. Pointing to the huts, she said, “Mine is on the opposite end.”
Knew it: it’s the farthest one. “Can we crawl there?” Jen asked, half joking.
“Ha! If we channel the power of a snail, maybe. But that’s too slow, silly! We’ll walk—come on!” Mira started up again, leaving Jen to catch up.
As they got closer, Jen noticed there was more activity around the huts. People were walking past them, some talking, some laughing, others carrying supplies. “Mira, what’s going on here?”
“We’re getting ready for the Sesquimillennial Jubilee next week! It’s the anniversary of the Great Battle, when Genevieve Lancaster brought an end to the Dark Purge.” Then, as if a bell had gone off in her head, Mira abruptly stopped before her hut’s door and pointed at Jen with both of her hands. “Your last name is also Lancaster! I don’t know why I didn’t connect it until now. Great going, Mira.”
“It’s okay. Honestly, I’m still learning about my heritage.”
Mira stepped on her hut’s welcome mat and played with her hair braid. “I can’t believe I’m going to be roomies with a Lancaster.” She unlocked the door and let Jen step in first.
As she crossed the threshold, Jen said, “Trust me, I’m nothing special. I still don’t have my powers under control.”
“I have a feeling that you’ll pick it up quickly,” Mira said.
Like magic, the hut was suddenly filled with light as evenly placed, smokeless torches flamed to life around them. The first thing Jen noticed was a hammock off to the left, swaying from the breeze made by the door. Above it was a large dreamcatcher that had colorful gems and feathers. The stone ground was covered by a thick, furry rug that softened the room. Jen felt calmness wash over her as she slid off her shoes out of habit and stepped onto the rug. The fur hugged the curves of her feet and the spaces between her toes, making her feel as though she were walking on clouds.
After a few seconds of soaking in the atmosphere, Mira asked, “So . . . you like?”
“I love,” Jen admitted, curling her toes deeper into the soft rug.
“Faux fur, of course.” Mira skipped over to her hammock after taking off her boots. She unclasped her whip and put it on a stand next to her. “I’d be a pretty poor animancer if I didn’t live in harmony with my fellow animals.” She tapped her dreamcatcher, letting it spin around as she dropped into the hammock.
“Good point. Is that your totem?” She pointed at the whip, still swaying on its stand.
Mira sat up and dangled her feet off the hammock. “Yes! My pride and joy.” She picked the whip back up and ran her hand over its smooth leather. “Imitation snakeskin, of course.”
Jen smiled, taking off her shoes as well. “Of course.”
Mira patted the space next to her, inviting Jen to sit down on the hammock. After she sat down, Mira handed the whip to Jen and said, “Made it myself. I took inspiration from the construction of a snake whip, but added my own flair to it. Then I let Heph inlay my metal into the handle and poppers.”
“You’re very gifted, Mira.” Jen
noticed the handle was curved, able to bend like the whip itself. The metal in the handle had the same pattern as the dark-gray scales, which gave an added dimension to the overall design. Following the coil around, she came to the thin metal tassels on its tip. “This is beautiful.”
“Thank you.” Mira blushed. “To help me aim my spells, Heph also put metal strands on the tip, where the popper goes—that’s what makes the snapping noise.” Mira mimed herself snapping a whip and made the sound effect for good measure.
“I’ve never used a whip before. Is it easy?” Jen asked, curious.
“It takes a lot of practice.” Mira pointed at a raised scar on her right shoulder. “I got this beaut during my first lesson at whip-cracking. It took me a while to get the hang of it, but now this whip is so comfortable, I feel like it’s a part of me.” She hung it back on the stand and gently bumped her shoulder with Jen’s. “So, what’s your totem?”
“Oh! A charm bracelet,” Jen said, lifting up her right wrist. Mira’s surprise was evident as Jen unhooked her totem bracelet and handed it to her new friend. “Since I’ll be learning all of the Mancy planes, I asked Heph to forge a bracelet so I can have a charm for each one.”
Mira let the bracelet hang from her index and middle fingers as she marveled at its intricate design. “This is so cute, Jen!” Mira said gleefully. She pointed to the teardrop pendant. “Which plane is this charm for?”
“Terramancy,” Jen answered. “I’ll get a new charm forged every time I begin a new plane.”
“So is animancy next on the list?” Mira winked and handed the bracelet back to Jen.
Jen chuckled as she put it back on her wrist. “I haven’t thought that far ahead, actually. We’ll see which plane Vic advises I go to next.”
“Well, Mystra Huxley is the one to ask for those things,” Mira agreed.
“How so?” Jen asked, confused.
Before Mira could answer, a knock came at the door, and she straightened her posture and quickly breathed in. “Speak of the devil. Come in, please!”
The door handle turned and Victor stepped into the hut. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything?”
“Not at all,” Mira said honestly. She stood up, causing Jen slide to the center of the hammock. “You’re always welcome, Mystra Huxley.”
“Why thank you, my dear.” Victor turned to Jen. “I’m sorry I took so long with Mystra Wingelius.”
“Oh, don’t apologize,” Jen said, deciding to stand as well. “It gave me more time to get to know Mira.”
“Good.” Victor smiled at both of them before saying, “Oh, before I forget.” He reached into his cloak and pulled out Jen’s diary. “Hopefully this’ll make you feel more at home here.”
Smiling appreciatively, Jen took her diary and placed it on her nightstand before hugging Victor. “You’re the best, Vic.”
Shrugging, he said, “I know.” He chuckled. “Now that we’re both free, how’d you like to start your training?”
The training!
“That would be great!” She turned to Mira while she slid her shoes back on. “Catch you later?”
Mira opened her arms and hugged Jen so quickly that she didn’t see it coming. “Of course, roomie!” Mira pulled back and asked, “Would you like a hammock on your side of the room too?”
Jen tried to hide her surprised, rose-colored cheeks. “I’d like that, yes.”
Mira clapped her hands so fast that they blurred like hummingbird wings. “Perfect! I’ll start right on it.”
“Oh, you don’t have to make it for me . . .”
“No, I’d love to!” Mira insisted. “I enjoy making things, especially clothes and décor. I’ve sewn my own hammock”—she pointed at it, then gestured around—“and I’ve made nearly every item in this hut.”
“Wow!”
“Fashion is my second passion—after animals,” Mira admitted, flicking her braid behind her shoulders.
“If it’s not too much trouble,” Jen relented. “Thank you.”
Victor still held the door open, expecting to have already left.
“It’s the least I can do! Now, I don’t want to keep you.” Mira shooed both Victor and Jen out the door, but not before handing her a bag. “Here’s some trail mix for the road.”
Jen hugged Mira. “Thanks—this looks delicious.”
They both exchanged goodbyes, then Victor and Jen were off toward the Pentarena.
“Looks like you made a new friend,” Victor chuckled, spinning his staff idly.
“More like a soul mate,” Jen joked, but part of her could tell that she and Mira would become close. Feeling happy, Jen switched her thoughts to her first training session as a sorceress.
Chapter Thirty-One
Six days.
Six days of darkness, malnourishment, squalor, and imprisonment. The only thing that kept Richard and Beth Smith from falling into further depression was their frequent conversations with their friend who, for the past couple days, had been uncharacteristically silent.
Richard couldn’t help but think his friend was bothered by what he had said the other day—or night—about how he and his wife had raised Jennifer Lancaster. He wasn’t ashamed that he had told the truth; just confused. Richard had no clue as to why that information had changed his friend’s demeanor so drastically. But there hadn’t been any unscheduled visits by the guards, so he was certain that his friend had kept that information to himself—for now.
Deciding to try one more time, Richard said, “Hey, friend.”
Cold silence was the only response.
Sighing in disappointment, he turned toward his wife, but his heart started to race when he heard familiar shuffling, then a single tap on a cell bar behind him. Richard didn’t move—he just waited.
Finally, “Are you Lancasters?” His friend’s voice was gravelly, having not been used in days.
Richard kissed his sleeping wife’s cheek and slid closer to the prison bars. “No . . . we looked after Jen when her birth parents disappeared.”
“Disappeared . . .” his friend repeated absentmindedly.
“We’re the Smiths,” Richard added. He heard a sharp intake of breath as if his friend had been burned. “Hey, are you all right?”
“I-I’m not sure,” his friend admitted. “You must have told me your last name before, because I feel like I already known that. I’m sorry . . . my mind gets worse every time I come out of Draconex’s interrogations.”
“Have you been doing the exercises I’ve taught you?” Richard asked, both as a friend and psychiatrist.
“Yes: let my body accept the trauma, relax, and breathe, then force it out like a bad dream.”
“Good.”
“You know, it’s easier said than done,” his friend pointed out. “But it gets easier every time. Thank you, friend.”
“I’m sorry if what I said earlier upset you.”
There was silence, then: “What do you mean?”
“After I told you my wife and I raised Jennifer Lancaster, you seemed to withdraw from speaking to us.”
“My head started to throb. It wasn’t you,” his friend explained. “It’s just that every time I’m brought to Draconex, I keep hearing about the Lancasters.”
“How do you mean?” Richard was even more confused now.
His friend grunted, seeming to be waging a battle in his own mind. Finally, he said:
“He keeps insisting that I am . . . Charles Lancaster.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
To kiss Jen was to fly, and right now Malcolm was flying.
He pulled away from her soft lips and tucked a few strands of curly hair behind her ear as he stared into her beautiful, deep violet eyes. They were sitting on a bench with a perfect view of the Washington Square Arch in Lower Manhattan, which was casting a long shadow as the sun set behind them. Malcolm put his arm around Jen and she rested her head on his shoulder as the fountain in front of them shot up water, shimmering like liquid gold.
No w
ords were spoken; none were necessary. Malcolm was filled with happiness and wished for this moment to never end. He looked down at her and smiled. Jen met his eyes with hers. Slowly, they leaned in for another kiss. The world melted away as he hugged her close, smelling her vanilla-lavender perfume.
Jen kissed him harder as their embrace became more passionate. Suddenly, Malcolm couldn’t breathe. Unable to pull himself away, Malcolm began to panic as his lungs screamed for air. He tried pushing Jen away, but he was powerless; he couldn’t make a sound. He felt the life being sucked out of him with this kiss of death, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.
He was falling, falling . . .
Darkness enveloped his senses, and the next thing Malcolm knew, he was in a pitch-black room, coughing from inhaling air too quickly. His eyes were stinging from sweat trickling down his forehead. He had been dreaming—or, more accurately, having a nightmare.
As his senses awoke, Malcolm remembered he was training with Lord Draconex, and his heart sank as cold reality came crashing back to him like a forceful tsunami. He was truly alone and wished he could hold Jen one last time. Malcolm hadn’t realized it before, but he had somehow fallen for Jen during his time pretending to be her boyfriend.
“The mind is a truly amazing thing,” Draconex’s voice boomed from every direction. Malcolm’s ears rang, and he felt as though he were recovering from the world’s worst hangover. “But what continually fascinates me is what goes through the mind, especially when it can’t get enough oxygen.”
Even though Malcolm controlled his breathing, he still felt out of it. “You were suffocating me?” He couldn’t believe the depths Draconex was willing to reach.
Ignoring Malcolm’s question, Draconex continued, “From what I’ve encountered, the brain begins to shut down when it’s starved for oxygen. It discards everything trivial, inconsequential, and unimportant, and focuses on what matters most to the person.” He flew over and pinned Malcolm to the floor beneath a heavy boot. “So imagine my surprise when I reached into your mind to discover that you have feelings for Jennifer Lancaster.” His tone was filled with equal parts disappointment and accusation. “Strong feelings.”
