Born of Magic (Channeler Series) Read online

  We played the game of follow-the-leader all across town. When I passed the young woman in the pine-green dress with the fiery red hair a second time, I realized we were going in circles. Her dress was patterned with long waving streaks of gold silk and gold trim at the base. I waved at her as I walked in front of her and she waved back with a warm smile. In her smile I could see that she knew how fortunate she was to be wearing that dress.

  Her smiling eyes and confident glow made it difficult to look away. I realized she was looking past me at a homely looking man with a giddy grin and I turned around, embarrassed. My heart deflated like a rotten tomato. I had lost track of Gangly. I kicked myself for being so thoughtless and rushed down the street. My first great opportunity in life and I was about to mess it up. I deserve to stay on the streets, I told myself.

  Which way did he go? Left? Right? He could have gone anywhere by now. He was walking so fast and I was so far behind him that it would have taken only a couple seconds of carelessness to lose him.

  And I had.

  And then I saw him, walking towards me. Had I somehow passed him? No, I knew that I hadn’t. He must have done a full loop around the block. He walked with fast, light steps. The rubber in his heals landed on the cobblestone with a light thud and a short skid. His eyes glared with intent. He looked past me and down the street. He too was following someone.

  An older man was in front of Gangly. He moved like a quail darting across an open field and scurried around the corner. He had his head ducked behind his own boney shoulders, as though he could hide in plain sight, and pummeled his feet against the ground with each step. He was scared.

  That smart voice in my head shouted at me to turn around and get away from this game of hunting lions. Again my stomach drowned it out.

  The boy that had hired me was foolish enough to pay me a very appetizing amount up front, but I couldn’t betray the trust that he had placed in me. He had chosen wisely, even if I hadn’t.

  Gangly swished by me in a blur of swift silence. After he rounded the corner I continued my job. It was still light outside and there were plenty of people around. Nothing bad will happen to me, I told myself. I peeked around the corner and down the next street in time to see Gangly follow the quail man into a building.

  The building was an old, two-story house with worn out wooden shutters and a tattered rooftop. The front door slammed close and the distinct clicking of a lock being turned followed. The two large windows on the front of the house were coated with a thick layer of dust and grime and didn’t look like they opened.

  An alleyway ran along the side of the house.

  Two more large windows painted the darkened side of the house. Neither opened. Pinned between the two big windows was a smaller one, and it was cracked open just enough for a fly to slip in. I crept down the alleyway, ducking below the first large window and peering through the open one.

  The thick skin of soot obscured and stained the room that lay on the other side of the window. There was no movement that I could see. The room was still. I dug my fingers into the exposed wooden edges of the frame of window and pulled. It creaked open and the sound made my heart jump. I stopped and peered inside through the gap I had created. It was still empty.

  Inside and just below the window was a desk with papers strewn atop it and a collection of sterling silver figurines. I checked one last time. The room was empty. The gap I had created wasn’t big enough for me to fit through. I nudged it open an inch at a time until it was just barely wide enough and then wormed my way in. I plopped down onto the desk with a loud thump. A cloud of dust filled the air around me. I covered my mouth just in time to catch a cough before it escaped.

  The room was filled with filth-covered shelves and books were scattered around the ground in a scandalous fashion. Three more desks were propped against the walls and also sported dozens of the tiny figurines. I looked closer at the figurines. They were of small animals; mice, birds, cats, and a few creatures that I didn’t recognize.

  I considered grabbing a few of them, but shook off the notion. I’m better than that, I reminded myself. I’m here to do a job, not rob someone. Sure, I steal food. But stealing food isn’t robbing, the way I see it. Not if it’s something that you need in order to survive.

  You’re in so far over your head, I told myself again and again.

  Only one door led out of the room. It was cracked open.

  The crack in the door cast a single streak of light into the hallway. Dark wood made up the walls and left the area a shadow. A second flicking line of light danced its way out of another open door on the opposite wall of the hallway.

  In the back of my neck was a rapid pounding. My legs quivered and my mouth went dry. I took in a deep breath and stepped out of the room. The floorboards howled under the weight of my feet.

  The room—the source of the light—was two doors down from the study. Inside the room were two shadowy figures. One I recognized as Gangly and the other looked like the scared man that he had been following. They were both standing still, like two statues. The only movement was the steady rising and falling of their chests and their eyes.

  I almost turned and ran when I saw their bloodshot eyes. Both had a blank expression while their lifeless eyes darted around sporadically. Their stone faces broke with minor muscle spasms.

  They stood in silence for what felt like hours and then Gangly’s eyes stopped. His eyebrows turned angry and a slimy smile formed on his lips as he pulled a knife from his pocket and lunged at the other man with a shrill shout. A blood curdling piercing sound and the poor man groaned and collapsed to the ground while holding his stomach. He keeled over and his face went pale and Gangly grabbed something shiny from the man’s chest pocket.

  I gasped.

  Before Gangly could turn around, I ran. My legs strained and barely managed to keep me standing as I made a reckless dash for the study. I kicked over a stack of books that were near the middle of the room and almost tripped. I hid behind a bookshelf and tried to steady my heart.

  My harsh life flashed before my eyes as I heard footsteps near the room. I saw all of the cold nights spent curled up in a ball with my friends like a nest or rats; all of the harsh nights that we had toughened together; all of the days we spent trying to fill our painfully empty stomachs.

  I shut my eyelids as tight as I could. My heart beat so loud and hard that it could have erupted from my chest. I thought of being somewhere else, somewhere happier and safer. I hid deep within my own thoughts and felt my mind start to drift away from my body. I could hear his footsteps bang inside of my skull and shatter my ears. With each second my blood grew colder. I finally dared to open my eyes and saw the world slipping away.

  I was in the same room, but everything seemed different. It was dark, with shades of blue being the only color that yielded any vibrancy. The walls swayed like a fog being pushed around by a gentle breeze. Everything felt warm and soft. Like dust in a still room, a sparkling mist flowed through the air and twinkled, as though it were winking at me.

  Had I died? Did my heart stop from the fear that was overwhelming me?

  From behind me a glowing hand clasped down on my shoulder with a tight grip. I looked up to see Gangly staring down at me with a smirk on his face. “Interesting. Who sent you?”

  My body froze. All I could think of were the last few days and my journey here. How had I found my way here?

  My heart swelled into the back of my throat.

  “Can’t talk?” He says.

  Incapable of forcing a reply, I pushed the man back and into the stack of books that I had knocked over. He tumbled to the ground and his head hit the wood floor with a loud thud. I jumped to my feet, dashed for the window, and jumped through the opening without a care about the landing that awaited me.

  When I landed, the hard cobblestones smashed against my knee and sent a fuzzy sensation up my leg and into my side. I sprung to my feet and hurried down the alleyway and to the street in search of help.
To my horror, the streets were empty. Not a single person.

  Other than Gangly.

  He crawled out the window with the prowess of a cat. Not wasting any time, I sprinted down the street and searched desperately for help. With every empty road I turned onto, it became more and more apparent that I was alone. If only I could find someone; Edgar, the man that hired me, one of the guards, anyone that could protect me. But there was no one. I was on my own and had to fend for myself, something that I should be more accustomed to. With the city to myself, other than the horrible man hunting me, the advantage was now mine. I knew this city like the back of my hand.

  Every hiding spot within a two-block radius ran through my head until I remembered the perfect one. Ralph, my gang’s fearless leader, had discovered it when he was on the run while stealing a blanket last winter—a small empty hutch just outside of a worn-down house. The owner had it for storing firewood, but the old man never bothered to fill it, instead relying on a giant collection of large oil lamps throughout his home.

  I dashed down the street and to the house and ducked inside the wooden structure while I was still out of sight from Gangly. I peered out the crack in the door and saw his feet pass by.

  “It won’t be that easy—” He said with a smile so demonic that my heart almost stopped.

  Again I felt a hostile hand grab my shoulder. My mind came back to my body, which was still in the study. I looked up to find Gangly standing over me again. I tried pushing him back again, but this time he was prepared. He grinned and deflected my arms with ease.

  “Not this time. Now you’re going to answer my—”

  He knew to expect my push, but not my fist flying into his nose. At first he just looked stunned, but then the pain must have kicked in and he cringed and huddled over, cradling his nose.

  I ran out of the room, down the hallway, and out the front door. To my relief, there were people roaming the streets this time. Everyone was in a rush to finish their chores before the day came to an end. The sun had already begun to set behind the towering city walls. I blended in with a passing crowd.

  Gangly stood at the front door, scanning the crowded street for me. I looked the other way to make it harder to spot me.

  Before night came, I met up with Edgar. He had a little bit of luck with work today and had earned a couple of coppers, enough for a small meal. He stopped bragging about his success when he noticed the look of horror that was still stuck on my face.

  “What’s wrong, Jas? You look like you’ve seen a ghost or something.”

  I wrapped my arms around myself, still shaking off the horrible memory that haunted me. The cold air from the coming night crept up along my spine. I squished my eyes shut and said, “I don’t wanna talk about it.” I didn’t want to force the horrible story on Edgar. “Let’s just get some good food for everyone. My treat.”

  The one thing that always sounded good to us was food. How could it not when you were always starving? It was a great escape to a horrible day. And on a day like this one, I needed something exceptionally special. My eyes lit up at the thought. “Chicken stew and cinnamon rolls,” I shouted.

  Edgar looked at my wide-eyed grin with astonishment. “Don’t even joke about—” he stopped for a moment when he realized I was serious and placed his hands on my shoulders. “You really have enough for that?”

  Finally, a reason to smile, I thought. “And a little to spare.”

  We trotted off to one of the few shops that were still open.

  On our way there, Edgar stepped in a puddle. “Not again. This keeps happening to me today,” he said as he shook off his foot.

  We walked into the inn and were immediately hit with the smell of fresh wheat, honey, milk, roasting chicken, and cinnamon. The innkeeper, who also runs a bakery out of the same building, glared at us as we walked up to the counter. Our heads barely peek over the cherry wood.

  “No handouts. Get out of here,” he said as he tossed his arms into the air in an effort to shoo us away.

  With a smile of satisfaction, I pulled out the small pouch and showed him the money. “Chicken stew and some cinnamon rolls, please,” I said.

  We bought more than enough chicken stew and cinnamon rolls to feed our starving gang with our stomachs the size of fists. We hurried back, skipping with the warm food in hand. Everyone was staring at us as we arrived, hopeful that we might have had more luck than them today. I could tell they were unsure of what to think as Edgar and I stood there with giant grins on our faces. I enjoyed their looks of astonishment and savored their questioning gazes until it looked as though they couldn’t take it anymore.

  “We brought dinner,” I said. My voice was filled with pride. I was happy to have made up for the many lousy meals that I had brought back in the past. I knew everyone had probably already before coming back to our usually alleyway for the night, but I doubted that they were too full for this.

  “Is that stew? How old is it?” Tory asked with wide eyes and a look of awe on her face. Of all of us, she was the newest to being homeless and still thought with her stomach a lot.

  Edgar and I laughed. “No, it’s fresh, and will go well with—” I pulled out the blanket that the five cinnamon rolls were wrapped in. Tory looked as though her heart would jump from her chest.

  “How did you manage to get all of this?” Ralph asked in disbelief. “I know you aren’t that clever.”

  Ralph was short, but well built for his age. His ragged, shoulder-length, brown hair complimented his sarcastic demeanor. Ralph had been made the coldest by our lifestyle. His father had been killed while out hunting. His mother then committed suicide shortly after, as she couldn't handle the grief. He was all alone by the age of six. He had adapted to the streets so well that he started taking others in, teaching them how to survive. Ralph was the only reason that I had survived. He had found me at the age of three, curled up underneath a wagon during the rainy season.

  I shot Ralph a glare. For that moment, I was in charge, if only for a moment. In retaliation, Ralph grabbed the largest cinnamon roll for himself and gave me a devious grin. I ignored his antics and we all feasted on our first nice meal in a very long time.

  One by one, everyone fell asleep with a smile on their face and a full stomach. Unfortunately, it was not enough for me. The memories from the day haunted me and kept me awake. The silence became my nightmares’ best friend. I lost all of the distractions that I had been using to avoid these thoughts. My mind was no free to wreak havoc upon itself.

  The night seemed endless and unforgiving as every second lingered like a needle in my spine. Every cricket chirp echoed perpetually. What would bring this madness to an end? I just wanted it all to end. I shut my eyes and once again found myself in the weird world that I had stumbled on earlier. Still unsure whether or not it was real, I found the warm silence that it offered comforting. Even though it was nighttime, it was still light out, as the moon glowed bright blue and illuminated the world.

  I wandered the empty streets to pass the time, happy to find this place empty now. No gangly man wielding a knife. I enjoyed the feeling of solitude and the ability to roam into any building that I wanted, unchallenged, mapping out different locations of interest. I found a wonderful bed in one of the mansions in the rich quarter of town and decided that in this world, I would sleep there. I could go wherever I wanted, free to live as I chose.

  Edgar woke me that morning with a gentle nudge on my shoulder, “Rise and shine, Jas.” His smile warmed me more than the rising sun.

  Edgar, the most important person in my life, was the one that was always there for me. Having joined the group around the same time as me, we had bonded while we learned how to survive together. He was always there, watching over me like a big brother. Unlike the rest of us, he chose to be here. He came from an abusive family and one night, when his father had beaten him almost to death, he ran away. Edgar was far tougher than he appeared. He was lean and could endure more than anyone else I knew.

&nb
sp; Throughout the day, I gradually lost the ability to separate the two worlds, and everything seemed to radiate a slight shade of blue. I walked along the same streets in both worlds. Wherever I went in one, I followed in the other. Every crowded street in the real world was empty in the mystical one. As I lost my ability to choose which world I focused on, it became that much more difficult to concentrate.

  By the end of the day, a splitting headache ravaged through my brain. I couldn’t think clearly and completely forgot to meet with the man that had hired me, missing out on the other half of my hard-earned payment.

  After a couple days of living in both worlds, I had learned to split my focus on both locations at will. The mystical world was my getaway, where I could feel warm at night, and go wherever I pleased. At first I had felt headaches from trying to focus on both places, but they had started to subside. I had yet to see another person in the mystical world.

  I was relishing the peace I had found, and then my heart stopped. Standing across the street, in both worlds, was another man, staring at me with a grin on his face. His eyes glowed an intense shade of blue that challenged the darkest blues I had ever seen in the sky.

  ~2~

  In the real world we were separated by a dense crowd scurrying through the market as men and women shopped in a panic for the best deals. In the other world he passed through the area where they stood, as we were the only ones here.

  I was too scared to move as he approached me. He spoke with a soft and steady tone, yet his voice echoed through the empty streets. “Hello, young one. New to Etherea?”

  Thousands of different options screamed at me from the back of my mind; run, hit him, scream for help. Instead, curiosity overtook logic. “Etherea?”

  He responded with an amused chuckle, “This world we’re in. Only mages can come here.” That word he used, mages, left an unusual feeling in me. He apparently saw the confused look on my face. “Mages have existed for centuries, though there are very few in this part of the world. In lands far from here, they’re better known. Some even maintain positions of power. We take energy from Etherea and use it for magic.”