Hidden Power (3 page)

A light mist seemed to ooze from the moss covered ground, covering their feet up to the knees and making Aurora tighten the collar of her new school jacket. It was pretty, but stiff and far from warm, a jacket made to look good, not feel good. 

She cursed herself for making such an unwise choice in clothing, but warmed herself with the thought of impressing Conner Griffith on the first day back to Learning.

Aurora tucked a strand of raven-black hair behind one ear and narrowed her eyes, wishing she’d thought to bring a lantern. Then again, it was bright daylight above and beyond the forest. It was only inside the sheltering trees and thick, black leaves of the Wandering Wood that night seemed to have fallen, despite the early hour.

A branch creaked, there, to the left. No, to the right? Aurora held the blade higher as Boer’s nostrils flared with alarm. The four-winged owl hooted, as did several of his neighbors on neighboring branches, big yellow eyes glowing in the dark.

More leaves rustled in the high, dark brush. It was more than just her imagination playing tricks on her; something was coming. Fast. The leaves rustled, the bushes shook and Aurora let out a little shriek as they parted to reveal a Nayer, an animal about half the size of a Steed and with only four legs.

Its eyes were big, its gray lips peeled back to reveal big, yellow teeth. It was heading straight for Aurora, trotting along on its little gray legs, barreling right at her.

“Whoa!” she shouted, waving the blade in front of her to slow the little Nayer’s progress. “Whoa, boy!” The Nayer slowed to a trot, head whipping around as if something might be chasing it.

“There, there,” she said, using the same hushed tones she’d used to gently prod Boer into the forest an hour or so earlier. “Here, come here boy…”

The Nayer was standoffish, but at a standstill. It had no markings, no brand, no saddle or harness. Local farmers used the little gray beasts when a horse was too much, but a human not enough. 

They were good for tilling smaller plots of land or toting sacks of barley wheat to the marketplace. Even Aurora used one to help when it was time to harvest her acre of garden and haul thick bushels of gourds and root vegetables back to the cabin.

She wondered where the little fella had come from, where it was going and what might be chasing it. “There, there,” she said, while grabbing a rope from her saddle back and looping it loosely around the Nayer’s thick neck. She knotted the rope, with plenty of slack, to Boer’s saddle so the beast of burden couldn’t run away again. 

She thought maybe it might be her father’s friend Lutheran’s Nayer. Or, if not, maybe another local farmer had lost his beast. Either way, she didn’t have time to stop now and hunt for the critter’s owner. 

If the old seamstress was right and Lutheran did live near the Crystal Falls, it would be another hour or more to get there, make contact, and then another few hours to make her way back to town. The days were short this time of year, the planet’s two moons rising earlier and earlier each day.

The last place on Synurgus she wanted to be was stuck in Wandering Woods in the dark! “Come on you two,” she grunted, leading Boer by the reins and, trailing a few yards back, the little Nayer struggled along at the end of his short tether.

They hobbled along, a dreadfully slow trio, as the woods grew thicker, not thinner; darker, not lighter. At one point Aurora thought she heard the cascading sound of Crystal Falls just ahead in the distance, but now that sound had long since been replaced by Boer’s constant whinnying and the neighing of the little gray Nayer.

Aurora shushed them both but understood their fear. The blade grew dull cutting though the thick shrub until she came upon a small clearing that seemed decidedly out of place. Its grass was green, wildflowers bloomed and instead of crooked trees and towering branches, a sheer cliff wall stood where none towered only moments earlier. 

She knew of no cliffs in the Wandering Wood, nothing but trees and more trees, darkness and more darkness. But as she inched closer, the beasts behind her trundling along at her back, Aurora could see that this was no regular cliff.

It sparkled, for one, like the stream that ran along their farmland when the sun hit it just right, or the odd crystals her father found every so often while plowing the fields. 

For another, the closer she got, Aurora could see… into it. But no, that wasn’t right, either. The flat land expanded, the grass grew greener with every footstep, and as Aurora neared the towering cliff she noted that it was not a mountain at all but a series of tall, towering buildings, sparkling, crystal buildings all collected in a town built into the sheer cliff wall.

High, tall buildings carved of stone, with magnificent architecture and staggering columns supporting towering arches. But these were no ordinary buildings; they were built of sheer crystal, see-through and sparkling. It was frosted at the edges, the bottom and the top, but everywhere else she could see right into them.

People walked, in flowing garnet robes with gold accents that would make Madame Grimelda green with envy. The men had long, silver hair and thick beards. They looked distant beyond the crystal walls, and beyond the few structures facing her seemed to lay an entire city built of clear stone!

Aurora wondered, idly, if this was the fabled city of mages from which all magic on the planet of Synurgus came. She’d heard rumors about the mages of old, the ancient ones who practiced both light and dark magic to keep towns like Balrog safe from those who would invade and plunder it wholesale.

But her parents were humble folk, not wise in the ways of magic or the mages who alone could practice it. She stared up at the towering city, with its multiple levels and miniature people walking and sitting in their splendid robes, being served by the Doing class in their all-white servants’ garb, pouring wine or tea from silver pitchers into gold chalices, a world of riches beyond Aurora’s wildest imaginings.

She turned, if only for a moment, to check on her animals and saw them, heads bowed, as if in reverence. Then she knew why: a white light was shining, brighter and brighter, forcing her to shield her eyes…

When at last Aurora opened them, a man was standing there. He was tall, towering at least a head above her. His maroon robe was heavy and cascaded down to the soft, fine grass that covered the ground at their feet. His silver hair flowed around his head, shimmering and waving, and yet the air around them was still and calm.

Indeed, the forest itself – once full of the foreign shrieks of howlers and beaters and savagers and scowlers – had grown hush and the air heavy, as if this man had sucked all the energy and life from the very atmosphere itself.

He held a crystal staff, sparkly and shimmering like the walls of the towering buildings behind him. Aurora felt the reins in her hand tighten as Boer and the Nayer tensed at the man’s sudden presence.

The man noticed, casting his gaze from the animals back to Aurora. He had wise, gentle eyes, dark and green like the finest of emeralds. “Your beasts have nothing to fear, child,” he said, voice soft and deep. “No one here will do them harm.”

Her voice cracked as she joked, “Tell them that.”

The man merely nodded. Then he looked at her beasts, smiled, paused and, moments later, the reins went slack in her hand. When she turned to Boer, his face was placid and downturned; same with the little Nayer, who now nibbled contentedly from the grass beneath his four tiny hooves.

She turned back to the man. “H-h-how did you do that?” she stammered.

“I just did what you asked me to,” he said with a cryptic smile on his ancient face. “I told them not to be afraid.”

“B-b-but only mages can speak to the animals,” she pointed out, a hitch catching in her throat.

He merely smiled and shrugged, shoulders broad beneath the heavy material of his long, rich robe.

When it was clear he would offer no further explanation, she asked: “Who… who are you?”

He cocked his head, silvery hair dancing in the non-existent breeze as it swirled around his face like a shimmering halo. “Who do you think I am?”

Aurora held her tongue until she had to confess, “I’m… not sure.”

He shook his head, as if disappointed. “What are you doing here?” he asked. 

She rolled her eyes, all too eager to tell him. “I was looking for a friend of my father’s when this Nayer came out of nowhere. I guess she threw me off direction, for now I’m lost…”

He nodded, studying the small beast. “And do you… see… anything behind me, child?”

She chuckled. “Just a mountain that isn’t supposed to be there, and walls that sparkle and I can see through….”

The air had grown heavy again and when she looked up at him from describing the walls, he wore a grave face. 

“Is that… where you come from?” she asked. “Is… is that where you live?

The moment passed and he smiled again, holding out his crystal staff toward her. “Would you like to visit?”

“Oh, yes, sometime when I’m in less of a hurry…” she gushed, looking behind him to the towering walls and the little people who must live behind them.

His voice was dry as he issued a soft, low chuckle. “I assure you, dear, no time will pass while you’re in Ythulia.”

She gasped out loud to hear they city’s mystical name spoke aloud. And so casually, at that. “So it is real? Mage City
does
exist? I thought it was only in my storybooks. A fairy tale parents told children to help them fall asleep at night.”

“Mage… City?” he asked, wearing a curious expression as his long, pale fingers gripped the crystal staff. 

He turned, expecting her to follow. She did, with both Boer and the Nayer in tow. “It’s… it’s what we call it at our Learning Place,” she explained, drifting along in his wake as the hem of his maroon cloak made waves in the mist that covered the grass. “But only… only because we never thought it was real.”

“Is it not in your learning books?” he asked over his shoulder, the tone of his voice implying he already knew the answer to his question. 

“Yes, of course,” she gushed, racing to keep up. His feet seemed to hover above the ground beneath his flowing maroon robes. “But… no one’s ever seen it before so, it always felt mythological to me. I thought… I thought that’s what our teachers intended.”

He turned, at last. They had reached one of the sparkling, see-through buildings. In front of it was a large, almost cavernous box. It had a door, and inside it looked bare and empty and large enough to hold most of the tiny cottage Aurora shared with her parents.

He waved his crystal staff and the door opened without a sound. With his free hand he waved her inside and, hesitating only briefly, Aurora stepped in. Behind her, the little Nayer wriggled free of his reins and hustled in while Boer lingered behind, cowering near a sheltering tree.

“He’ll be okay,” said the man and, nodding, seemed to speak to her steed again, without words. Almost immediately, Boer went to his knees and then leaned against the trunk of the tree, as if sleeping.

The door slid shut and the room rose around them. Its sheer walls seemed to sparkle the higher they rose and, daring a look outside, she watched as the green grass and the crooked trees of Wandering Woods disappeared far, far below. Higher and higher they rose into the sky, and quickly. 

On the other side of the room she saw people in the sparkling buildings blur by, their faces bland and indistinguishable but clearly visible through the clear walls of the moving car.

The little Nayer trembled next to Aurora’s knee and she shushed him, gently petting the hairy spot between its trembling ears. Just then, the room stopped and the wall facing the nearest building opened as smoothly, as quickly, as if it had never been there at all. 

“Come along,” the man said gently, as if to both Aurora and the gray beast. 

Either way, both followed. The floor beneath Aurora was see-through as well, made of the same cool, clear crystals that sparkled and shone on the outside walls.

Aurora followed the man, the Nayer close at her side, its hooves clattering on the clear crystal floor. They had walked into a vast, open area, a foyer of sorts, outside an even vaster hall where men with waving, silver hair stood and debated. 

There were crystal risers surrounding a large pedestal that shimmered and shone with a green light from within; much like that that ebbed and flowed within the old mage’s staff.

They paused just outside the massive arena and the man turned to her. “You came at an awkward time,” the man confessed, but in a pleasant tone.

“Why?” Aurora asked. “What’s happening? It all seems very serious.”

“It is,” he said, nodding and moving her along. “One of our Council recently went to the Great Beyond. So now we’re meeting in the Great Hall to replace him.”

She tugged his robe to halt his progress. When he turned to face her, one silver eyebrow arched, she said, “I’m sorry to hear that.”

He nodded, face softening just a bit. “I can see that you are. Come along, and let us see if we can get some refreshments after your long journey.”

The hallways outside the sparkling arena were bustling with younger, less shimmering people in white hooded cloaks that looked more like servants. A young man caught her eye, long blond hair and luminous brown eyes, a soft, full nose and even fuller lips. He paused in his step, opened his mouth as if to greet her and, looking up at her more dignified companion, merely nodded and kept rushing along.

The old man nodded. “I can see you’ve caught the eye of one of our young squires, Kayne.”

“Squires?” she asked, but what she really wanted was to know more about young Kayne.

“Mages in training, my dear.”

No one else seemed to take notice of Aurora, or even her tiny Nayer, as the odd progression moved silently, even swiftly, through the crystal halls of Mage City. People were bustling about, but all seemed to make way for the kindly man who had invited Aurora to the fabled city of Ythuria.

She could hardly believe her good fortune, or contain her excitement. The man paused outside a clear, glittering door and, with a wave of his staff, it opened to reveal a warm, inviting room with soft red lounges and small black tables. They, too, seemed stone-like and yet softer somehow, as if carved in place but with a master’s touch.