Lives of Magic (Seven Wanderers Trilogy) (2 page)

I did not trust him and was too scared anyway. So I just knelt there some more. He waited patiently for a few minutes. My eyes were set straight ahead at my hands on the water, somehow kneeling on it as if it was hardwood flooring. Cold and wet hardwood flooring.

Suddenly, I heard a little splash, and two shoes came into my vision, standing in front of me, walking on the water. I dared to move slightly and tilted my head upwards to look at him, and he was staring at me, stern but concerned.

“Gwen Carlisle, I am called Kian,” he told me in a voice as cool as ice. “You need to come with me.”

I
don’t remember any more than that. My body gave in to pain and exhaustion and I promptly passed out. I couldn’t make sense of what was happening, or what Kian had said. He picked me up off of the ocean and swung me over his shoulder like a child.

I opened my eyes briefly to see his feet gingerly walking on top of the water, every now and then getting a splash from the waves. I was wet and freezing. His body only warmed me slightly. I didn’t realize I was being kidnapped. I hung there lazily, drifting in and out of consciousness. Way to go, Gwen.

My mind came back to me slowly. As soon as I began to feel my body again, I felt restrained, tied up, and tried to sit up in a fit. I couldn’t remember exactly what had happened, only that it had been something very stressful.

I gasped as soon as I tried to move. I hadn’t been tied up, it was just that everything hurt, especially all the parts in my torso that had to move in order to go from sitting to standing. The pain was too much and I lay back down. I felt trapped in my clothes, which had dried hard and stiff from the sea salt.

“Hello!” Kian exclaimed happily.

We were in a tiny little shed, which was more of a hovel than anything. The wood on the walls was peeling, and even as I stared directly up at the ceiling, trying to keep the tears from my eyes, I saw a dozen little bugs crawling in and out of the low roof.

The walls were bare and thin but looked to have whole ecosystems going on inside them. Other than that, the only furniture in the place was a little fire pot and three chairs that I lay across. Definitely a shed.

And then, to my surprise, there was a sleek little suitcase in the corner and Kian coming towards me. He was wearing a plain white t-shirt and was carrying a mortar and pestle. He was too tall for the little shack; his head brushed up against the ceiling and sent a few spiders cascading over his forehead. He didn’t even flinch.

Forgetting earlier events, in that moment, I was sure a serial killer had abducted me. You don’t know panic until you wake up in a shack with a serial killer. I was in too much pain to move and had been brought to some hovel in the woods. My heart beat so hard against my ribs that even that was painful. I grimaced in a most unattractive way.

“Don’t move,” he told me. It was a suggestion, not an order. “I am Kian,” he added when I stared at him in confusion. He pointed to himself to make it clear. “Remember?”

His voice was deep and I liked it, despite myself. I slid my eyes over to what he was doing. Holding a big bowl in one hand, he was mashing something that smelled earthy. He scooped up what he had made and started towards me. My eyes must have widened, because he stopped.

“This is salve for your wounds. You have a lot.”

I eyed his bright green concoction for a moment then nodded, resigning myself. I was in too much pain to run away anyway. His presence calmed me a little bit. At least I wasn’t alone, but the mystery of the entire situation did more to unnerve me. Kian spoke soothingly, almost pityingly, and I was sure it had something to do with how I looked after taking that fall.

When I remembered falling down the mountain, I recalled bits and snippets of other things — wetness, falling through the air, landing in the water. It had hurt. My knees and wrists felt as if I may as well have landed on concrete. But I landed on the water. I couldn’t make sense of it so I pushed the thought to the back of my mind.

Less than three feet away, the same person who had terrified me this morning was busy creating a green paste. My stomach did somersaults. As soon as I realized I had no idea how long I had been unconscious, my panic doubled. The shack had no windows, only a little mosquito lantern and the small flame in the fire pot. No rain crashed down on the roof. Enough time had passed for the storm to subside.

Kian came towards me with that green stuff in his palm, but first put another hand just underneath my throat. Before I could ask, a soothing feeling swept over me and I relaxed. His touch convinced me everything was okay. The situation didn’t seem so bad anymore. My mind, frenzied, had to surrender to the calm that came over my body. I was totally conflicted.

He smiled, more to himself than to me, satisfied with his work, and gently picked up my arm. As I looked down, I realized it was the last bit of me that wasn’t covered with the stuff. Kian’s goo was being absorbed by my body through my clothes. He hadn’t undressed me, though at that moment my salty, damp jeans were getting increasingly uncomfortable.

It was awkward, lying there, helpless, with a strange guy covering me in some kind of earthy-smelling goop. While I could only stare, I took in his face again.

The face I had seen following me through the rain had been a slightly distorted version of the man who stood in front of me now. He looked much younger, and though his nose was still a little too long for his slim face, his expression was pleasant and friendly.

I looked up at his brown eyes. His eyelashes were exceptionally long and swept up towards dark brows, which were knitted together in concentration. His pale face brought out full lips, and my eyes were embarrassingly on those when I realized he was speaking to me.

“Sorry?” I asked hoarsely.

“I asked how you are feeling,” Kian said.

His face was stony — not mean but impossible to read. But I could have sworn there was some laughter going on under all his layers of tranquillity. He was being so calm it was frustrating.

Cautious, still under suspicion that he could be some kind of cannibal serial killer lurking in the Oregon woods, I did the only thing I could think of: comply.

I wiggled my fingers and toes and realized nothing was broken. I might even be able to make a run for it. I smiled in relief, again despite myself, and he took that for an answer.

“You should lie still for another little while,” he told me, getting up off the floor and gently releasing my arm. It was covered in a fresh layer of green goo. He stood up and had to duck between the low rafters as he threw the leftovers into the fire pot. The smell filled the small room.

“Perhaps it is better that way, however,” he said as he cleaned the little area. “You may want to be lying down.”

“What?” I asked immediately. My voice was flat and nervous.

Kian came over to me again and sat cross-legged on the floor. His face was level with mine and he looked at me so seriously I was sure he was about to tell me someone died. It’s the kind of face that makes you instantly nervous and upset, and definitely makes you want to ask more questions instead of listen patiently.

My suspicions about him forced me to back up as much as I could into the row of chairs I was lying on, as he sat in front of me inches from my face. He eyed me again with a patient, stern look and I calmed down some more, wary that I was falling into his plot.

Kian shook his head, and grasping the chair legs pulled all three chairs closer to him. I immediately realized he was strong, and my chances of bolting diminished greatly.

“Don’t be afraid of me,” he told me, almost pleadingly.

His face was so close to mine that I held my breath. I wanted to believe him. The urgency in his voice and his honest face made it hard to imagine him being a serial killer. But I had watched too many crime shows to let down my guard. I continued to stare at him silently, my mind in total conflict.

“I’m here to rescue you,” Kian said finally.

A thousand sarcastic replies flew to my lips but I swallowed them down. “From what?”

“Three magicians.” He raised three fingers to illustrate the point. “They are trying to conquer this world. But they need more power.”

I continued to stare blankly, so he went on.

“Magic is rare today. Only you and a few others have it.” Kian looked up at the ceiling, searching for words. “The magicians want to capture you and steal your magic.”

That’s not so bad,
my thoughts tried to reassure myself.

“Your magic is attached to your soul. If they succeed in stealing your magic, your soul will be enslaved forever.”

Very little of this made sense to me, and I opened my mouth to tell him so. I didn’t like words like steal, soul, and enslave in the same sentence. I thought of a few classic arguments to make, such as
you’ve got the wrong girl
or
you must be confusing me with someone else
. Magicians and past lives weren’t something I dealt with.

Kian must have seen my protest forming so he rushed to reassure me.

“It may not be easy to hear, but we’re running out of time. Your consciousness mixed at our proximity. I saw it. Your power will not stop developing. I am here to help you.”

His gaze fell back to me, and I nodded stupidly. He was urgent, as if this news was the most important thing in the world. His hushed tone drew me into him.

“You are very special, Gwen Carlisle,” he said. “Many things you believe are truths are not. But you need to run or risk being captured, though I had hoped you would have more time to grow.”

A silence stretched between us, and finally, I could only manage another weak, “What?”

He cocked his head to the side, the universal symbol of someone trying to be understanding and sensitive. I felt like he was trying to examine me, figure out how to approach whatever it was that he wanted to reveal. My nervousness grew by the second.

“What if I told you that you are not actually who you think you are?”

Again, I opened my mouth to interject but he kept going.

“What if I told you that with my help, you can unlock memories and capabilities inside of you that could save your life and possibly countless others?”

Kian was staring at me like the cue had happened for me having a revelation. On my part, I was only getting fed up and nervous. This sounded like a speech he had rehearsed.

“I don’t follow,” I told him flatly.

“Gwen …” Kian leaned in and looked into my eyes. I could feel his breath on my face. “I can only show you.”

Before I could flinch, he placed his hands on my ears, as if trying to keep me from hearing. But after an instant had passed, I felt a searing pain in my head. I winced and tried to squirm out of his grasp, but he was too strong.

Even prone to migraines, I had never felt anything like this before. As if my brain had exploded and taken my eyes and ears with it, I thought I would pass out from the pain … again. I don’t know if I cried out. But as soon as it had started, it was over. I gasped in relief and like with migraine, felt a giant weight being lifted. Dragging in breath, I saw what was in front of me.

While Kian still held my head and I lay on his chairs, covered in goo, it was as if a projector was playing a movie directly in front of my eyes. But the movie made no sense. It was emanating from me. The images had no sounds, and they moved too quickly to decipher them. I stared, barely blinking, straight ahead and up.

Glimpses played in front of me of someone who looked familiar, even like me, but different. Different in the way that Kian was different, like some kind of statue or Renaissance painting. It was the depiction of a person whose age is unknowable and face unreadable: an obscure person.

In my confusion the image made me sad, though I couldn’t understand why. I stared, mouth hanging open, at what I saw. What I somehow knew had come out of my own mind.

The movie was on fast forward. Too fast, and I couldn’t make out a single thing being played in front of me. The images moved quickly, and I saw people. Places. I
saw
emotions. Loyalty, love, family. I saw an entire life, as if through some kind of new generation of role-playing game. I realized, shocked, that the world was spinning around me, moving quickly, but in this movie, I was always at the centre of it.

I imagined this must be like having your life flash before your eyes, seeing nothing and everything at once. But this was not my life. I had led a quiet existence in Northern California, a place where most people lead quiet existences.

Slowly, the images faded off the screen of silver light, and then it was gone, leaving only the dust around the ceiling slightly illuminated.

I choked. My mouth had been open for way too long. I didn’t know how long the images had played out, but I noticed my limbs and torso feeling a little better. Was Kian’s goo working? It must have been several minutes at least.

He let go of my head and sat back, looking at me expectantly and rubbing his hands together like they were cold.

“What was that?” I whispered.

My breath billowed out in wisps of steam as I spoke. My voice was feeling stronger, but it felt like a quiet occasion. I couldn’t explain what had just happened.

By this point, I had written off Kian as some kind of lonely Oregon wanderer, and my walk across the ocean as inexplicable reef activity. But this was something else. I couldn’t explain this at all.

It was the question he had been waiting for.

“That was your past, Gwen,” he said, “And unfortunately, your future.”