Lives of Magic (Seven Wanderers Trilogy) (26 page)

Kian told us that we could not make any sudden moves. That if we were being watched, it would be suspicious. My argument that it gave them longer to attack us fell on deaf ears.

After waiting a week for everyone to fully recover, Kian drove us out into the middle of nowhere, saying he was bringing us closer to our past.

“Where is it?” I asked in a hushed tone. It felt like it was a hushed-tone kind of occasion as we drove through endless narrow highways along green fields and hillsides. It was nearly December and while England did not see much snow, the cold was piercing.

I could see Kian shrug in the driver’s seat. I eyed him in the rear view mirror and noticed a stubborn set to his lips.

“I have not been back,” Kian said, his voice flat. “I have no spiritual ties to the earth. I was taken from this place. This is my only life.”

I felt like I had just received more information than I had asked for, but I let it sink in. We made it to a small rental office in a village I had missed the name of. The houses were painted white and still had thatched roofs. Kian spoke with the man inside and eventually came out with the keys to a three-bedroom cottage.

The space was lovely and backed out onto a wide hillside. When we had first arrived in England, I felt a buzzing in my chest that I had eventually hidden away. I thought it fizzled out, but I felt it anew as soon as I stepped out of the car and inhaled the chill. I hauled my sad suitcase to the back of the cottage and into a room I would share with Moira. I sat on the bed, feeling the complex stitching on the quilt over the stiff mattress.

For the first time in a long time, I ached to speak to my mother. While I had been glad my parents were not witnessing any of my adventures, the quiet moment in the bedroom brought tears to my eyes. I sat probing my emotions.

Slowly, my dream’s feelings began to sink into my consciousness again. Regret. Guilt. Despair. After a few minutes, they started growing exponentially. The speed at which I was sinking into a nightmare alarmed me and I decided I needed to escape. I came outside to where Seth and Garrison were sitting on a wooden fence in the backyard.

I followed their gaze in the direction of a large green expanse, where rolling hills had formed a steep incline. My heart still ached, but I tried to distract myself.

“What are we looking at?” I asked.

Garrison pointed over the hill, as simply as if pointing out an interesting bird. “Over there,” he said. “That’s where we died.”

H
is statement shocked me, but it was a muted panic. As my heart sped up with anxiety, I remembered that I had known it would come to this all along. After burying my emotions, memories of my husband, and past misdeeds, I felt very little connection to the place. Grudgingly, I realized I was holding myself back. I had only myself to blame.

The cold weather was bringing tears to my eyes and I was glad for the distraction. We had driven for nearly three hours to get to this place, and the sun peeked out from in between heavy grey clouds. It was midday. We were near the seashore and the smell of salt hung in the air.

“We’ll explore after lunch,” Garrison decided. “I’m starving.”

When we returned to the cottage, Kian was busy trying to stuff his large bags full of weapons into the cupboard. He saw me looking.

“Don’t think your training will stop just because we’re coming to the end of your journey,” he warned, struggling to close the cupboard door.

I didn’t reply but felt a hint of sadness touch me. Kian spoke with finality, as if when we did recover our memories, we wouldn’t need him anymore. What would happen when this was all over? Would it ever be over?

The smell of cleaning solution reached me and I went into my bedroom, following the scent. Moira was wearing rubber gloves on top of her black gloves and cleaning the mirrors in the room. She quickly moved on to the dresser and night table.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

She was so focused on her work that she didn’t see me standing in the doorway. She jumped in surprise.

“Cleaning,” Moira answered simply.

I wasn’t going to get any more out of her so I gave up. I had noticed over the past weeks that when Moira became nervous, she would make herself busy. I was about to leave when I sensed a magical push at my back.

I stopped, closing the door in front of me. When the old latch clicked, Moira looked up again, startled.

“What do you know?” I asked slowly. She must have gained more magic since the attack.

Moira straightened. “I …” she stammered. Her hesitance to tell me made me nervous. Our histories were intertwined, for better or worse. Sighing, Moira sat down on one of the narrow beds. “I know about you and Seth.”

I wanted to avoid the topic but continued to probe her for details. “When did you find out?” I asked.

“After he was released from the hospital,” Moira replied. “I saw how he looked at you. It made me suspicious, angry. I didn’t know why. Then the dreams started.” She looked at the floor.

My emotions warred with my curiosity. I didn’t want to know what she saw in my past, no matter how curious I was. But if Kian was right, then we would all be faced with the truth soon enough. The tension in the room would soon prove unbearable. The matter had to be settled.

“How do you feel now?” My voice was apprehensive.

Suddenly, Moira rose and strode past me, opening the door and walking towards the kitchen. She put her cleaning supplies away. I followed her, waiting for my answer. When she had removed the rubber gloves, she turned to face me.

“I know the difference between the past and now, Gwen,” she said. Despite her words, I sensed anger behind them. “I’m not going to be tricked again.”

She walked out of the cottage, grabbing her coat on the way. I stood, staring after her, trying to decipher her words. Was she talking about being tricked by Seth and me in the past, or being tricked by the magicians?

“What was that about?”

I jumped. Kian was reading a magazine on the small couch and had seen the exchange. His tall frame was folded onto the short couch, its floral pattern reminding me of my grandmother’s house.

“Nothing,” I replied quickly and retreated to my bedroom to sort out my tangle of emotions.

I lost track of the days as my paranoia kept me on edge. I kept imagining the magicians storming into our little cottage as we ate or slept. We cooked together, watched the small television together, and took long walks trying to figure out what our memories could piece together.

Kian explained the magicians did not know where to look, since their home had been elsewhere. His assurances, however, didn’t do much to settle my worries — they had found us before.

Though Kian did not participate in our walks up to the top of the hill from where the grey ocean could be seen, he was relentless about the sword fighting and archery. He kept up with the self-defence as well, though Garrison was the only one who seemed to enjoy it. Moira was no longer allowed to sit out, though she complained throughout our training sessions.

After a week at the cottage, morning walks to the top of the hill became customary. I woke up, dressed, and waited for the others by the door. Soon, Seth, Garrison, Moira, and I were trying in vain to shield ourselves from the wind, but our coats were not enough against early December in northern England. It hurt to breathe as we made our way up to a small flat area on top of the hill.

The ocean looked absolutely deadly when I peeked over the edge. The fall was much higher than the one I had taken in Oregon, and the vastness of the Atlantic looked angrier somehow than the steadfastness of the Pacific. I shook my head at my giving the oceans personalities.

Garrison was pacing a small bald spot where no grass grew. He peered over the hill as if imagining the village that could have been there. Kian had called it a kingdom, but it was probably no larger than a small town. A tribe. Seth and Moira took tentative steps, making sure to cover the plateau completely. Moira had not yet told Seth about their past, and I was certainly not going to intervene.

Seth was weaker because of his time at the hospital, not just magically but also physically. Often, we paused on the hike up the hill because he found it difficult to breathe. I could see the frustration playing across his face whenever he felt vulnerable.

We had climbed up together for seven days straight. This was our seventh morning, peering over the edge, pacing the land, trying to grasp onto the past as though it were sand running through our fingers. Each time we had come, Kian would stay behind, explaining that he had no place here with us. I wasn’t sure what that meant, or why he occasionally sounded bitter, but I didn’t want to argue. Kian was more on edge here than anywhere else we had been. I imagined him prowling around the cottage as a bear, the fur on his back constantly up in agitation.

When the wind grew too cold, we decided to retreat to the comfort of the cottage, which, though old and drafty, felt like a warm haven compared to the top of the hill. We ate, cleaned, washed the dishes, and went to bed as if this was a routine we had had forever.

My dreams at the cottage had slowed and played over in my head as if they flowed in syrup. I saw nothing new, just the same images and feelings playing over and over in my head as if trying to be absorbed into my psyche.

My recurring dream of floating above the hill and over the ocean gave me vertigo, and I awoke on several occasions having to place a hand on the wall behind the bed to steady myself. Our routine was making me nervous, and I had almost had enough when the change finally happened.

On the eighth day at the cottage, we awoke to a particularly cold morning. Opening the door with difficulty, I saw that the grass was covered in frost and a thin layer of snow blanketed everything. I sighed with dread. Tempted to close the door and go back to sleep, I called to Seth.

“I love snow!” he called back. I sighed again. We were definitely going outside now. None of us had clothes or boots for the snow, so we settled with wearing a lot of layers and being cold.

Kian gave me a smile as I left, knowing how much I hated the cold. “Have fun!” he called.

“Shut up,” I replied.

I heard him laugh as I shut the door behind me and faced winter.

Climbing a hill covered in snow and ice while wearing running shoes isn’t easy. Near the plateau, the incline got particularly steep and I found myself slipping and sliding. As I slid a few metres, I found Seth right in front of me. Moira rolled in front of him.

“I don’t think this is working,” she said through chattering teeth, getting up and brushing the snow off her jeans with gloved hands.

Garrison had a pair of cleats in his luggage and they worked in his favour. He had made it to the top of the hill.

“Here,” he called to Moira, “grab my hand!”

He steadied himself and extended his hand to Moira. She took it and extended a hand to Seth, who took it. I scrambled to get up and tried a step forwards, but slipped again. My canvas shoes were soaked and my feet were freezing.

“Come on,” Seth said to me encouragingly, “a few more steps.”

He had a hand extended to me in our makeshift chain. Trying to steady myself, I focused on my footing. One step forward, then another, and I was within reach. Shaking with the cold, I looked up into his eyes. I reached out for his hand and grabbed onto it.

In an instant, I was no longer myself.

A life blurred in front of my eyes. It was like the images Kian had shown me when he first kidnapped me, but now I could see in detail the aspects of my past life. I was absorbed into the images and my senses came to life. The smells of damp earth, fresh heather, and burning wood filled my nostrils and mind with memories.

In an instant, I had a childhood with a father and a mother. I remembered the faces of several women who had taken care of me. The friends who had played with me by throwing rocks into the sea on a shore of pebbles. The taste of jerky and salted meat filled my mouth as I fished and waited for the men and boys of our tribe to come back from the hunt.

Suddenly, I was older. The familiar pulse of magic coursed through my blood. The faces of the women around me became sad as cold steel was thrust into my hands and I was made a warrior for my strength and abilities. Old faces swirled as the people I encountered came and went. Uneasiness filled my heart. Something terrible was afoot.

Throughout the memories, Seth appeared. First young, and then old. Sometimes he wore a Roman uniform and sometimes we wore the plain spun tunic of our tribe. On several occasions his skin was touched with blue ink. He showed me the items he got from the Romans. Understanding dawned as I watched him leading a troop through the trees. He acted as a guide but was really leading them away from our home.

Then the earth began to roll and I was surprised to be unsteady on my feet. I had never felt anything like this before. The ocean roared and my link with the water was severed. The cool comfort that had resided in my chest since childhood was gone and was replaced by a panic I could not explain.

Weapons were needed for war. Metal was expensive. Fury rushed through me as I reached the age of marriage and was placed into the care of a man I detested. It was our king who forced me by playing on my allegiance, and while I began to hate him, I loved his son unconditionally. Seth stood next to the king, his youth a contrast to the old man’s beard and heavy features. A prince. Soon he was married off as well, but I was determined to live the life I wanted, no matter what. I would be loyal to my tribe, but my personal life was no one’s affair but mine.

The earth would not stop rolling and soon the men in our tribe were scarce. The Romans had lost their patience, and those of us who weren’t killed in battle disappeared and were feared captured by the neighbouring tribe who attacked us through their magicians. Finally, we were able to break through and capture the stone building which housed the powerful three.

Blood ran in my vision as we fought our way through to the small castle. The panic swelled in my chest as I feared we would be too late. Finally free of the guards surrounding the structure, our group pushed against the stone door of the chamber in which the magicians performed their unnatural rituals. There were seven of us. I spotted Moira, Garrison, and Seth in the crowd, but the other faces were unfamiliar. Garrison made eye contact with me and I knew his future self rode in this body. He saw the same thing I did.

Finally, we managed to move the stone and ran into the square chamber. The scene in front of me made my stomach drop to the floor. Bodies littered the ground. The slaves of the magicians had been poisoned to keep their secrets. Two bodies lay in heavy robes on a pedestal. Their long beards and hair, as well as the blue paint covering their bodies, identified them as the magicians. The two men lay with their eyes open staring at the stone ceiling, goblets in their hands. A fire was dying out, burning low around them. Heavy rings adorned each finger and golden circlets wound around their necks. We were too late.