The Hidden Paths to Power (10 page)

BOOK: The Hidden Paths to Power
3.13Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

Instead of the staircase going up, there was a landing, with three steps going down, into a huge library. All four walls, from floor to ceiling, were lined with books.

These weren’t like the books sold in the shop. Many had great age to them and only held together because of the preservation spells within the library.

There was an oak table with two reading chairs next to it.

My eyes just grew huge as I studied the titles I could read. They weren’t all in English.

Doriane said as she was looking for the book she wanted, “You can read anything in here. These will be as much a part of your education, as what you learn directly from me. When you start running out of English books, we’ll increase your ability to read and speak other languages. Since you’re my student, I may insist you learn French first.”

“I know a little already, from my foreign language classes in school. I also have some understanding of Spanish. Lisa was raised in a traditional Spanish household, so that’s what they spoke most of the time, unless they had visitors. Lisa was teaching me before all this started.”

“That’s good. Some of the best guardians came from Spanish ancestry. Ah…here we are.”

Doriane pulled out a very old book that was thin. This book only dealt with one thing, preserving the essence of the spirits in gifted wood.

Taking it over to the table, she sat as she began to study. Some of the books couldn’t leave the library, as the only thing keeping them from turning to dust, were the spells in the library.

I pulled out the first English book on defensive magic and sat across from her to begin reading. It was comfortable and companionable. It felt like I was having a study session with my friends again.

A few hours later, as my eyes were drying out, Doriane said, “Let’s get some rest. I’ll have to study the book a few times, to be sure I understand it correctly. How did you do with the first one?”

“It’s interesting to learn how effective air can be in defensive magic. I should’ve guessed, with how destructive tornados and such can be. Learning that sometimes, even something blown, with softness on a cool breeze, can be just as effective is eye-opening.”

“Why do you think I used the symbol for air, when I cast the spells for warning and the other little surprise? What I put on the amulets won’t harm Ryan much but he’ll feel like his guts are twisting, if he gets within fifty feet of the charms. Air is the stuff of life but, as science has learned, it also carries things that can be deadly. With the right word and a sprinkle of the right powder on the wind, I can either heal a person, or kill them, or any number of things in between. Air is also effective in keeping the real magic hidden because the air can carry things without them being seen.”

We went to bed in our respective rooms. We only slept in the same one, when we were feeling the desire for physical contact. I relaxed then fell asleep.

My dream started as many of the usual ones.

I was sitting in a park with all four of my friends and we were laughing and joking. It always felt good that I could remember the faces of Karen and Megan so clearly.

This time a change began.

At first, the sky changed from sunny to nighttime. The details shifted, as I was seeing a different park. I didn’t know this one, so was one I’d never been to.

My four friends were no longer there but did see someone, I recognized.

The black woman, who was running in fear through the park, was Tiffany Davis. In school, she had one of the foulest mouths, and wasn’t shy about tearing into anyone, she felt deserved the sharp side of her tongue.

I had been the unfortunate recipient of one of her tongue-lashings, when I accidently bumped into her one day in the halls.

At first, I didn’t see what she was running from, then saw Ryan pop up in front of her.

I knew what he was going to do and didn’t want to see it but was locked into the dream. I remembered Doriane’s lesson from earlier about pain and found the strength to endure it.

Tiffany yelled, “I’m sorry, Ryan! I’ve grown up! What do I have to do to show how much I regret bullying you so much?”

“The torment you put me through is only an excuse. You just became a convenient target when I saw you. You weren’t as bad as some, because you never laid hands on me. The things you’d say, were very hurtful, so this will be a little pleasurable.”

This time he didn’t use his wand. I watched as he raised a closed fist then opened the hand. I recognized the hemlock powder but there was something combined with it, I didn’t recognize.

Ryan blew gently then spoke the keyword and the powder attacked Tiffany, like a swarm of hornets. It was horrible to watch, as the powder stripped off her clothes, leaving her naked, then started stripping her flesh one layer at a time. It took a long, painful half hour, for the spell to leave her as a mutilated corpse.

As disturbing as the images were, it was seeing Ryan’s glee-filled eyes that bothered me more. This man, who was sweet enough to present a flower to me, when he asked me to a dance, had become a horrible monster.

Maybe, he always was, and I was the only one he showed his good side to. I didn’t think I would ever know the answer to that. He was who he was now and had just added to his body count.

I knew it was a vision and not a dream when I woke up. I lay there for a minute letting tears fall, as I mourned the boy he used to be, then got up.

Quietly, I slipped into Doriane’s room and without a word yet, slipped into bed with her. She awoke without surprise and we gently made love, until I was strong enough, to tell her about the vision.

We were cuddling as she said, “What he used is called black-fever powder. You were right that one component is hemlock. There is also oak dust from a decaying tree and the dust from decaying corpses. For full potency, the corpse is from a recently deceased person. We’ll do what we can about Tiffany when we investigate. It’s possible Ryan left her there to be found, just to let you know he’s still out there, or he’ll have taken her with him, to use her body in other foul concoctions.”

“Is it possible he could sense I was watching?”

“If you were anywhere but under my roof, probably. I have many layers of protection around the house. Not just to keep dark users from sensing me, when I let down my guard at home, but to protect my dreams, and to keep dark users from sensing everything that resides below us. I also have protections to keep them from hearing anything said within these walls. Setting up a new home in a new location can be challenging. That’s why new guardians stay with their teachers for at least thirty years or more.”

“Will I ever be able to have friends and family come to the house?”

“Of course. That’s why everything that could be dangerous is kept down below and the door is hidden. The door is attached to the outside wall and the staircase leads to a sub-basement. I do have a regular basement, though all I have down there is antiques. They’re mementos I’ve collected over the years but only guardians know I bought them when they were new. To anyone else who comes to the house, they’re just a collection of antiques.”

“Do you mind if I snoop around down there on occasion?”

“No but be careful with some of the older pieces. Most of the things down there are not protected by magic. Each piece has memories that are important to me. I only have a few things down there that’re guarded by preservation spells. My sister’s dress that she wore to her sixteenth birthday is hanging inside a case I built for it. It’s hanging on the south wall next to the portrait of the first man I loved and had to leave behind.”

“Will you tell me someday, the story behind you becoming a guardian?”

“Eventually, I’ll tell you all my stories. I was born in a small village in France. If you know anything of history, you’ll know magic was always seen as the work of the devil. All God-fearing citizens had nothing to do with it, and turned in anyone who did, to the Catholic Church. Imagine my surprise, when the village shepherd, who was the nicest man you could ever meet, was a practitioner of magic. Normally, he watched his flock alone, so when he would cast a few spells to gauge the world’s health and balance, he could always do so without being seen. I was sixteen and on a free day from my chores, I decided to visit the nice shepherd. He and I always got along so I didn’t see the harm in it. When I arrived, I caught him in the middle of chanting a spell. I witnessed him healing a tree that had been harmed by dark magic. We don’t heal anything that dies naturally but we can heal the effects of a dark user when we find them.

“I could see tension in his eyes, when he noticed my arrival, as he feared I would turn him in. I was a little nervous but curiosity was the stronger emotion coursing through me. I had been told, by anyone and everyone, that those who practiced magic; even the false stuff; had the blackest hearts and needed to be struck down by God’s chosen. I tried to match up what I’d been told, with this man I’d known all my life. Gerridon couldn’t be farther from a black-hearted monster if he tried. Instead of running to report what I’d seen, I sat with him and did what I came to do. I visited with him. The conversation was very enlightening then he offered to awaken the power in me.

“As I told you, the guardians are required to test anyone who witnesses real magic, so if they don’t pass the test, their memories can be taken to prevent the knowledge from being spread. It took me a while, sitting there and listening to him, before deciding I was more intrigued than frightened. It was an interesting trick of logistics for me, a sixteen year old beautiful girl, to visit a man who lived alone in his house without a chaperone. It took me two weeks before I could find the means, to visit his house without being seen to. I also had to worry about anyone catching on that I showed an interest in magic, and not the fear, that I was supposed to feel. He took me to his own casting room below his house and I passed. I had the heart to be a guardian. I cried for two hours, when he told me I couldn’t have children anymore. When I calmed enough to listen, he explained. Children are the legacy most humans leave behind but because we live so long, we’re our own legacy. Our students also become part of the legacy.

“Then he explained about the need to leave, before anyone discovered I wasn’t ageing as fast as I should. This was painful as well but I’d come to terms. I liked that I could be part of the guardians and fight to contain evil. The first spell I ever learned, was how to become invisible, so I could get to his house without being seen and receive my lessons.”

I responded as I sat up, “We all have our social issues to deal with. I’m obviously going to be one of the guardians that need to work on how to hide our presence, as imaging technology gets better.”

I felt strong enough to go back to my own bed and finish the rest of the night, without anything more than my usual dreams.

Between lessons, Doriane’s need to be at the store, to train the new owner, and studying in the library, it took four days to find out where Tiffany lived, after high school.

I watched the news and read the paper for any reports that Tiffany had been found.

When nothing came up, I had to be very creative, in searching out where she lived, without tipping off anyone about who was looking for her. I pretended to be someone from the State of Colorado, who was holding an important message, about her taxes being calculated wrong, and she was owed some money.

All of this was being done on the phone but it took some work.

I discovered Tiffany moved to the poorer neighborhoods of old Aurora. I grew worried, when I learned she’d gotten pregnant, a few weeks before she graduated, and her mom kicked her out.

I lost the concern for the child, when I discovered the state had taken her child away, for her inability to care for her son. She’d been working her tail off since, to try to get him back, but could never seem to hold a job, because of her mouth and her temper.

Tiffany started getting a rein on her temper a few months ago, as she matured. It made sense, if the park was near the old sections of Aurora. I didn’t go there when I was young. When I became an adult, I only went there, to visit a few pawn shops from time-to-time.

I finally tracked down where she’d been living but Doriane was ready, to help me create my wand, before we could look into Tiffany’s death.

My raven-haired mentor spun the casting room, in the opposite direction from the library ninety degrees.

We took the maple wood into a small workshop. This was where Doriane made her wands and the little cubes of wood she used in some spells.

She had me place the wood on the worktable then pulled out a small hammer and a chisel set. The chisels ranged from tiny to an inch and a half wide. All these tools were kept in pristine condition to avoid mistakes if possible.

Once the proper tools were laid out, Doriane said, “I can’t be in here with you as you make it. The wood and the essence were gifted to you. I hope you remember some of your woodshop.”

“I remember a little but it wasn’t my strongest skill.”

“This is complicated because from the moment, the first tool touches the wood, you can’t stop until it’s finished, no matter how long it takes. You won’t do anything until I leave the room. I’ll stay in the casting room until you’re done. Hopefully, you can finish in enough time for me to get some sleep, before going to the shop tomorrow. When I have the door closed, you’re going to empty your mind of thought, concentrate on your power then try to envision what the wand will look like. When you have a firm picture in your mind of what you want it to look like, you will carefully and gently use the tools to shape it to match what’s in your mind.

Other books

Valley of the Lost by Vicki Delany
House of the Sun by Meira Chand
The Ohana by CW Schutter
A Ghostly Murder by Tonya Kappes
Diners, Dives & Dead Ends by Austin, Terri L.
Renegade Love (Rancheros) by Fletcher, Donna
On the Loose by Christopher Fowler
Box by John Locke
Rockoholic by Skuse, C. J.