Eliza's Shadow (22 page)

Before I could lament further on the incredibly
inopportune timing of the lesson, I heard the distant thud of heavy footsteps
in the stairwell. My heart flooded with panic but I forced myself to recount my
revelation about the mind manipulation process. Emotion, concentration,
command. Emotion, concentration, command. Emotion, concentration, command. I
reminded myself as the footsteps grew louder and the shadow of a person
stretched out on the wall opposite the stairs.

He emerged, the stinking, filthy guard, my captor,
the one I had to enchant to save my life. As he entered the room, he gazed at
me briefly before casting his eyes to the ground with a snort. There was
certainly a sense of recognition in his response but not surprise. I braced
myself for attack.

As he neared, I shivered at the idea of angering
him. He seemed to be so full of anger as it was I was truly concerned about
where it might lead. There had to be another way, something that I hadn’t
thought of yet.

The lurking form of my captor lumbered across the
crude stone floor and I stared at his unkempt appearance. Dirty tattered
clothing, stringy filthy hair, rotting teeth, as if he’d never been cared for.
I thought of Ren’s advice, that everything in the scenario was a clue.

I fought through my fear and studied my captor
with the few moments I had left before he crossed the distance between us. The
man approaching me looked like a person who had never been taught to care for
himself. Maybe someone who had never had a mother to wash his clothes, bath
him, feed him and now as an adult he didn’t know how to do those basic things
for himself.

I thought of little Benjamin, vulnerable, unkempt,
and hungry. Then the clouds in my brain parted revealing an obvious clue. I
felt silly that it hadn’t occurred to me before. Benjamin himself was the key
to both of our freedom! My captor was a projection of what Benjamin would
become if not saved. More importantly, my captor, years ago, had been just like
Benjamin.

I found my voice. “She didn’t mean to leave you.”
I said loudly, in a quivering voice.

The slow moving man’s head shot up and he glared
at me cutting through the distance between us. My words had certainly stirred
his heart but what they were unleashing looked incredibly dangerous. I
swallowed hard, unsure of whether I should proceed with my plan.

“Your mother. She didn’t mean to abandon you.
That’s what happened to you, isn’t it? She was brought here, a prisoner, a
witch, and then you were kept here too.” I stammered watching his twisted face
for a sign that I was on the right track.

He stared at me intensely, his narrow eyes flared
bitterly. His gaze still locked on mine, he plodded to the edge of the well.
Before I could concentrate enough to begin the mind manipulation procedure, I
heard an ominous, whoosh, from somewhere high above me.

The chair plunged downward, cracking the surface
of the frigid water beneath. It floated just long enough for me to suck in a
deep breath before sinking into the darkness. It happened so quickly that I
barely registered those seconds before going under until it was over and I felt
myself descending gently into the depths of the well. The cold blackness
surrounding me extinguished the fire of emotion I should have felt at learning
my life was about to end. It was quiet and peaceful. The coldness seeped beyond
my skin penetrating my bones, numbing everything. So I’d gambled and lost, I
thought dazedly.

Then my lungs began to burn and once the burning
started it escalated exponentially with every second that passed. Just as I
began to think I could not bear the burning any longer, the water pushed hard
against my shoulders and pulled my legs tight against the seat of the chair. I
wasn’t sure at first if what I felt was air on my face but it didn’t matter
because I couldn’t stand the heat in my chest a moment longer, I spat and
coughed and sucked in whatever was available.

My ears were ringing and my vision dark but I felt
the air moving in and out of my chest, filling my lungs like balloons and then
rushing out again. Beyond the ringing, I heard his voice, shouting through the
din.

“What do you know about my mother? What do you
know? What do you know, witch?” The man demanded.

The oxygen coursing through my bloodstream
sharpened my senses and I detected desperation in the man’s voice. I had been
right in baiting him and needed to act quickly. My eyes opened and I squinted
at his face. At first my vision was blurry but once it cleared, I discovered
that his expression was one of pain. Concentrate. I told myself.

I locked eyes with my captor and muttered softly.
“I’m sure your mother loved you.”

Then I began the mind-manipulation procedure with
intense concentration.
Set the boy and me free. Set the boy and me free. Set the boy and me
free.
I instructed my captor fervently.

Miraculously, his eyes dilated wide and black and
the pain wrenching his features slipped away leaving a placid expression. I
continued the chant long after I’d observed the physical sign of enchantment
for fear I could lose hold of him. Finally, after a few moments of staring at
his blank frozen expression, I decided to rouse him and hoped that my
instructions would be followed. With shallow breath, I spoke to him, my voice
cracked with uncertainty.

“Come back, now. Come back.”

At once, his eyes snapped shut and reopened
without showing any outward sign of enchantment. I held my breath, still
vulnerable and bound, waiting for his response. Without a word he reached for
the chair. The rope pulley securing the chair over the well creaked in protest
as he pulled the chair away from the well and settled it onto the stone floor.
I exhaled with relief but held my tongue.

The man proceeded to fumble with grubby fingers at
the wet ropes tightly wound around my wrists and ankles. It seemed to take an
eternity but he finally managed to weaken the knots and release my limbs. Once
I was free, I hesitated to stand, unsure of how my behavior would affect the
man’s actions. Without waiting for me to move, he scanned my freed limbs, then
turned and plodded across the room toward the stairwell that led to the exit.

I hoped that he was heading toward Benjamin’s cell
and carefully rose to my feet to follow him. I remained several steps behind
him, just out of arms reach, as I followed him down the stairs and through the
narrow hallway lined with cell doors. He slowed and finally stopped before one
of the doors. He fumbled with a ring of keys before sliding one into the lock
and releasing the thick bolt across the door. It swung open. I stood behind
him, hesitant to step into the cell and was immensely relieved when he emerged
gripping little Benjamin’s arm, half dragging the small boy behind him.

When Benjamin’s eyes lit upon mine they sparked
with recognition.

“Eliza! You came back!” He spouted
enthusiastically.

I smiled and with a suspicious glance at our
captor brought a finger to my lips. Benjamin nodded in understanding and pursed
his lips.

The man turned away from us, stomping methodically
down the hall in the opposite direction. In that moment, I was torn. I had told
him to release us but did that include showing us the door to the prison or was
it possible that if we followed him further we might find ourselves in trouble
again? I glanced frantically down the hall in both directions. There was no way
of knowing what other challenges lurked in the prison’s depths. Finally deciding
to trust my magic, I grasped Benjamin’s small hand and charged down the hall
after our captor with Benjamin in tow.

The man marched with the same methodical precision
he had since I’d roused him from the spell and we followed him down hall after
hall, twisting and turning through the prison’s guts. Then we saw it. A door at
the end of the hall held a square portal and moonlight shone through the hole
casting a silver shard of light onto the floor. I tugged Benjamin toward the
door, though it meant closing the gap between our captor and us. When the man
reached the door he remained still, which concerned me, but when we stood next
to him, with only the door and a latch to separate us from freedom, I wasn’t
afraid. The man fumbled again with the key ring on his belt before slipping yet
another key into the lock. He slowly pulled the bolt from the lock and pushed
the door open revealing a moonlit courtyard.

With just a passing glance at our captor’s face, I
pulled Benjamin over the threshold and rushed out into the night. The air was
sweet and clean. The door of the prison slammed behind us, punctuating our
freedom.

But the moment of exhilaration was fleeting. With
Benjamin’s small hand still clinging to mine, I spun around searching. The
courtyard was surrounded by a high stone wall and there was no apparent exit. A
breeze swirled around me, accentuating the uncomfortable dampness of my
clothing. I had successfully freed Benjamin and escaped our captor but if that
was all that was required to master the lesson, why was I still there… trapped?

I was so absorbed in fretting over my next move
that I barely noticed the small hand tugging at my sleeve. When I glanced down,
I was met with surprise. Benjamin suddenly did not look a bit like he had
within the confines of the prison. He stood well dressed and groomed, his
smooth golden hair glistening in the moonlight. He smiled up into my shocked
face.

Then he spoke and the voice that emerged was not
one that would normally be heard from a small boy. It was the voice of someone
older and wise.

“Well done, Eliza. May I congratulate you on
successfully completing your first lesson.” He said with a twinkle in his eye,
“But before you go, there is just one last thing I must show you.” He said
conspiratorially as if he was divulging a guarded secret.

“Come.” He said, motioning for me to follow him.

Benjamin crossed the courtyard heading for the
darkest part of the wall. I followed him, suspiciously scanning my surroundings
with every step.

“Benjamin… What are you?” I asked cautiously
realizing that he was certainly not the child he appeared to be.

His twinkling eyes sparkled bright in moonlight
when he glanced back at me.

“I am the cliwen.” He said brightly. “I’ll always
be here for you. Though I will never look the same.”

He stopped walking and plunged his hands into a
thicket of vines hanging over the wall. He pulled them back and smiled. There
was the gate.

It was made of dark, aging wood. And at the heart
of it was a carving but the light was too scant to see it clearly. I reached
out allowing my fingers to trace the smooth lines, then took a step back
allowing the moonlight to illuminate it.

A ray of light spilled across the dark wood
lighting up the engraving like polished marble, a large intricate water lily.
As I admired it, I thought of another water lily I had seen dangling against my
mother’s smooth chest.

Benjamin spoke in whisper. “One may follow through
the gate but one’s own will must be strong to escape.”

Then quick as a wink, he pulled the rusty latch back
and the gate swung open. He smiled warmly.

“Until next lesson, Eliza. Good luck.” He said and
with his other hand pushed me out the other side.

15

“Are you still up for coming
over after school?” Ren asked hopefully, excluding any mention of Nan and the
tutoring she’d promised to begin with me, since we were in the company of Bryn
and Pete. His brow creased as he studied my expression and waited for my
response.

It had been nearly a week since I’d mastered my
first primer lesson barely escaping death by drowning and I had needed a rest
from magic.

Thanks to Nan’s protective spell that seemed to be
working against the Shadow, I’d forced Ren to agree to a break from any discussion
of or experimentation with magic. At first, he was sympathetic considering what
I’d been through. But as the days crept by, he grew impatient with my
reluctance to discuss even minor experiments to test my gifts. It was Monday
and I had promised Nan that I would meet with her after school to begin
studying herbology, spells, and casting, the three areas of witchcraft that
required a live teacher. However, my frayed nerves had just begun to mend and I
wasn’t excited about the possibility of shredding them again.

Ren obviously had no intention of allowing me to
forget my commitment to Nan. I gazed out the window of the cafeteria, slowly
chewing a bite of pizza to avoid answering him. Bryn and Pete bantered about a
quiz they’d both just taken in Art History, a class neither Ren nor I had in
our schedules. I was glad that they were immersed in their own conversation and
hadn’t noticed the tension building between Ren and me.

It was a cold November day and most of the leaves
on the trees had been whisked away by a windstorm that stripped the landscape
the night before. My eyes traced the delicate lines of a bare oak tree
silhouetted against the clear blue sky as I considered what was in store for
me. Nan would just be teaching me about herbology, which was gardening, for
goodness sakes. Then of course spells and casting. How freaky could that get?

Apprenticing with Nan was probably safer than any
topic the primer would throw at me. I’d purposefully stuffed the primer into a
dresser drawer and refused to open it again, at least until I felt ready for
another brush with death. I reached for my lemonade and took a sip before
answering Ren.

“Yeah, I guess I’ll come over. Nan’s expecting me,
right?” I asked superficially, well aware of the answer.

One of Ren’s eyebrows shot up and he gave me an
exasperated look. “Yes. She’s expecting you.” He said testily.