Fragments of your Soul (The Mirror Worlds Book 1) (15 page)

“A… a friend showed me how to create a moth,” Arvid said. “He said it was easy. After that I… experimented.”

“Your friend is right. But this,” he pointed to the spot where Arvid’s illusion had been, “requires more skill. Most need to concentrate for a long time to create an image that is so detailed that people are deceived.”

“Still, it was obviously not good enough,” muttered Arvid.

The redhead chuckled and came closer. “You fooled Thor. He stood at the right angle and probably had his head full of other things.” He sat down beside her on the bench and gestured upward. “Look.”

In the air above them there was suddenly a rectangular image that showed the shed. Amazed, Arvid took a sharp breath. What she saw could have been a mirror, but the bench on the mirage was empty. It looked like a window in reality, through which one looked into a different world.

“That’s about what your illusion looked like,” said the redhead. “A depth-less image, set up like a canvas. Going sideways distorts everything and it becomes evident that it is only an illusion.”

Arvid was fascinated by the crystal-clear picture of the shed. It was so true to life that it was impossible to detect a fault. At the same time she realized what the man was trying to explain. This image could only fool you if you stood in front of it. If you looked at it from a different angle, the illusion was easy to spot.

“So you looked through it right from the beginning,” Arvid said. “You came from over there; you must have noticed right away.”

The redhead chuckled. “Yes,” he said, “but I like to play. I was curious to see if Thor would notice, but of course he didn’t. His head’s so full of demons, threats and problems that there’s no time for the really fascinating things in life. And now have a look at this.”

The picture of the shed disappeared and gave way to a forest that surrounded them on all sides. Arvid was so startled that she jumped up and incredulously stared up at the giant trees that towered around them. She looked at the branches and leaves and mossy trunks, the light of the stars that shone through the treetops, and the soft mist that started to swallow the undergrowth in the distance. She looked down at the leaf-covered ground, but her feet were still standing in the muddy grass of the orchard of Vero-Maghen.

“That’s incredible,” Arvid whispered almost reverently. “Is this really just a… an illusion?”

“Not even a particularly good one,” the man said evenly. “Look closely. The leaves don’t move, and if you move your head a little, you will realize that the objects don’t really have depth. It just looks as if they do.”

He was right. Once Arvid focused on these details, she could see it clearly. Nevertheless, the effect was overwhelming.

“An image like this is easy to create,” said the redhead. “It is not very different from what you have already done. Only the size and shape are different. You may not create a wall. Form a lens, a bowl, turned inward or outward, depending on whether the viewer is behind or in front of it. Sit down.”

Reluctantly Arvid sat down on the bench again. The forest disappeared, and they were once more in the orchard.

“It takes some practice,” the man continued. “Use your hands as a help.” He moved close to her, lifted his arm up and pointed to a spot above them. “Remember this point at the outer edge of your visual field. Then this one and this…” He pointed to distant points left and right of them. “In between you imagine a giant bowl, which you then turn into your image.” He looked at her invitingly. “Try. Then I have to go.”

Arvid hesitated. What if she failed and disgraced herself? On the other hand, she probably wouldn’t get help from someone like him again anytime soon.

“All right,” she said.

She tried to do just as he had explained. She stretched out her arm  to find the extreme points of her vision, and imagined herself sitting in the midst of a giant lens, which lay between those points. She took a deep breath and recalled the image of her room as she had left it. The rumpled blankets on the bed, the big table and all the things on it, the brittle stone walls and the candlesticks. She remembered how the floorboards looked, the shadows in the corners and the dim light that fell through the window.

When the picture appeared around her, she was overwhelmed. It was as if she suddenly sat in her room, although she also almost immediately made out a lot of details that were missing. Everything was a bit distorted and misshapen, and yet it felt as if she were in the middle of it. The result wasn’t nearly as convincing as the forest the redhead had created. Still, it outclassed everything Arvid had ever managed before.

The image lasted only a few seconds, but the man beside her nodded. “You will learn to compensate for the curvature; it’s a matter of practice. And now,” he rose from the bench, “I have to say goodbye.”

“Wait!” Arvid said quickly, rising also. “Who are you?”

The redhead turned around again. “If I didn’t know that you’re not from here, I would probably feel offended,” he said. Again, Arvid had the vague feeling that she had seen him before, or rather… his eyes. In a strange way his eyes seemed familiar.

“I’m quite fond of your talents,” the redhead continued. “Let’s play a game. Find out who I am. If you succeed, I will teach you more.” He was about to turn away, but stopped again. “Oh, one more thing… You shouldn’t tell anyone that you’re able to bend time—in your own interest.”

He turned around and finally went.

The next morning the headmaster informed the students that the circle of protection was completely restored. After Borgarr had expressed his gratitude toward the gods, loud applause arose in the hall. In the evening, a banquet was to be held to celebrate the new circle. And finally, Thor spoke to those present.

Arvid wasn’t really listening. After the events of the past day she lacked the sense for speeches and banquets, even if she was relieved that the circle of protection was intact again. It simply had been too much. The encounter with the unknown in the orchard, the meeting with Thoke and of course the question of how she could save her friendship with him. She didn’t know what to do. The mere idea of facing him after the incident yesterday caused her discomfort.

Thoke wasn’t in the hall. While Thor talked, Aleri told her in a whisper that he was sick, but Arvid knew that wasn’t true. He avoided her because he surely felt just like her and didn’t know how to handle the situation. Although deep inside, Arvid felt a certain anger toward him, she also wanted to talk to him. She simply refused to accept that this incident should ruin their friendship.

Arvid made a decision to speak with Thoke the same day, but in the end she didn’t. The banquet in the evening went past her, gray and insignificant, and the next day they were informed that the group from Asgard had departed already in the early morning hours.

The next few days Arvid tried to speak with Thoke several times, but every time he evaded her. She could have visited him in his room, but she couldn’t bring herself to do so.

She spent a lot of time withdrawn in the library, where she started reading books about the gods of Asgard. She hoped to come across a description that matched the red-haired stranger from the orchard, but her efforts were of little success. Although there were quite a number of gods who allegedly had red hair, none of them seemed to have a preference for illusions or similar.

Her search for books on illusions also ended disappointingly: The librarian explained to her that this art wouldn’t be taught at Vero-Maghen. Arvid had to make do with a little black book that didn’t offer much more than a superficial overview of the subject and contained no practical advice.

It was dinner time on a long-awaited day of rest, and Gerdur let Arvid know that Coth had a letter for her. Arvid was puzzled, but hastened to run up to the master’s office. Coth sat behind piles of books and looked up only briefly as Arvid came in.

“You, uh… have a letter for me?” Arvid asked cautiously.

“Yes. One moment please.” Coth bowed his head again and wrote on, while Arvid waited patiently. Finally, he put the pen aside and stood up with a groan. He took a stack of letters from the shelf behind him, looked through it and finally pulled a manila envelope out of it.

“Here you go,” he said, handing her the envelope. “It arrived this afternoon.”

Awkwardly, he sank back into his high armchair, while Arvid turned the letter in her hands. It was sealed with sealing wax, and on the front her name was written.

“And you… don’t want to read it first?” Arvid asked uncertainly.

Again Coth raised his head. “But the letter is for you,” he said. “Now if you’d excuse me, there’s a lot of work waiting.”

Arvid hurried back to her room. She had no idea where this letter came from—who would write her? She didn’t know anyone in the Shadow World. Her patron never responded to her reports, so it couldn’t be him either.

Heart pounding, she sat down at the table and opened the envelope carefully, as not to unnecessarily damage it. Inside, she found a carefully folded sheet of paper, but to her surprise, it was almost empty.

“Dear Arvid,” was written at the top, followed by nothing.

Puzzled, Arvid turned the letter over, but the back was completely empty, too. Who would make the effort to seal and send a letter if it contained no message? This wasn’t a world in which you did something like this for fun. Arvid knew that it was expensive to send letters, since the messengers had to be well trained and armed and never traveled alone.

She took the envelope in her hand. The paper had been soaked in something, probably to make it water-repellent. Her name was written in black ink. The handwriting was simple, but very even, indicating a skilled writer. The sealing wax was red, but there was no crest, just a flat, round imprint and the runes of her name.

Her confusion grew. Was this some kind of a joke?

I like to play
, Arvid suddenly remembered.
Let’s play a game
, the redhead had said to her. Suddenly it all made some sense. What if this strange letter was simply part of his game?

That night Arvid didn’t sleep well. She jumped up several times, sometimes sweaty, sometimes shivering. She had disturbing dreams, but couldn’t remember them when she awoke. In the end she couldn’t get back to sleep anymore, but restlessly tossed herself around in bed. When she finally couldn’t stand it anymore, she stood up and got dressed.

The hallways lay empty and silent in front of her. Everyone seemed to be still asleep, but the impression was deceiving. As she stepped through the door to the common room, she found herself facing Thoke. For a moment he looked so startled that it seemed almost comical.

“Hello,” Arvid said simply. She was so taken by surprise that she didn’t know what else to say. Meeting Thoke here was the last thing she had expected.

Thoke had overcome his surprise and his brow furrowed. “Hello,” he said. He just wanted to go on, but Arvid grabbed him by the sleeve.

“Please stay,” she said softly. “I think we need to talk.” Thoke avoided her eyes, but then his posture relaxed and he nodded.

They sat down at a table and Arvid put her letter down on it. She had a queasy feeling in her stomach, but she knew that this conversation was long overdue.

“I… I’m sorry that I didn’t come to you earlier,” she said. “And I admit that… I still don’t really know what to say.”

Thoke nodded mechanically. “Do you still have my present?”

“Yes,” Arvid said after a brief hesitation. “But I haven’t opened it yet. Would you like me to give it back?”

“No.”

For a while, there was silence between them. With every moment, the situation felt more uncomfortable. For days, Arvid had wanted to talk to Thoke. Again and again she had wondered what she wanted to say to him, but now all these things seemed banal and inappropriate. Finally, it was Thoke who broke the silence.

“I’m sorry about what happened,” he said in a low voice. “I hope you don’t despise me now.”

“What? Why should I despise you?”

Thoke forced a smile. “I was stupid,” he said. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, but I have. I don’t know… how… if I can make it up.”

At first Arvid didn’t know what to say to that. Of course Thoke had hurt her, but she had hurt him, too. “Perhaps it was inevitable,” she said. “Maybe I would have done the same in your situation, who knows.”

Again, they sank into silence. Thoke still stared at the table in front of him. Arvid wished she and he could talk normally again, without this incident hanging over their heads like a black cloud. But it would be difficult. Maybe things would never be the same again.

“It’s just so hard,” Thoke said suddenly. His voice was so quiet that Arvid involuntarily leaned forward. “It hurts, you know? It hurts to see you all the time, knowing that… that you don’t feel that way.”

“I… understand that, I think,” Arvid said haltingly. She would have liked to help Thoke, but how? In such a situation she couldn’t tell him that he’d surely find another woman for whom he felt the same way one day.

Thoke’s eyes fell on the letter Arvid had placed on the table. “Post from an admirer?” he asked. He sounded so bitter that Arvid felt a painful sting.

“There is no admirer,” she said. “I don’t know who the letter is from. It’s empty.” She hesitated a moment, then pushed it over to Thoke.

She watched his face, which was closed off at first, but relaxed a little as he looked at the letter more closely. For a moment, he seemed to wrestle with himself, then he leaned forward and picked it up. It was obvious that he tried to hide his curiosity.

His reaction was similar to hers when she had seen the letter for the first time. First he stared at the short line at the top, then turned the letter over and ran his fingers over the surface of the paper. Now he took one of the candles, lit it and held the sheet in front of it.

“No watermark,” he muttered.

This idea had never occurred to Arvid, but she now remembered something else.

“Hold it over the flame,” she said with a hint of excitement. “Back in school we used to write messages with lemon juice, which turns black faster than the paper.”

“There are no lemons in the Shadow World,” Thoke said, but he still tried it. Afterwards a corner of the letter was black, but still no secret message was visible.

“Someone’s probably trying to make a fool out of you,” said. He looked at the envelope assessingly and scratched at the broken seal.

“I don’t think so,” said Arvid. “I think there must be some kind of magic I simply don’t understand. Something like an illusion…”

“An illusion? Not very likely. And even if… That’s just silly. A hidden message in a letter?”

“Hmm,” Arvid said. She didn’t think it was silly. If she was honest, she found it pretty exciting, a bit like a treasure hunt.

“You could ask Espen,” Thoke finally said.

“Gerdur’s friend?”

“Yes, he once helped me with a paper. It’s his last year at school, and I know he has previously studied illusions. In Vero-Maghen there is no specialized master, so he attended lessons in the Temple City for a few weeks.”

“That’s why you knew that with the moth,” Arvid suddenly realized. “He showed it to you, right?”

Thoke nodded. “He lives in Black Castle now; he’s rarely here anymore. But I’ll ask him if he has a moment, when I see him next time.”

“Thank you, Thoke,” Arvid said, forcing herself to smile. “Do you think we can… forget about what happened between us? At least try…”

As he looked at her, there was still pain in his eyes, but he nodded. “I’d love to.”

When Arvid returned to her room, she took the small package of brown paper Thoke had given to her. Inside she found a piece of soft fabric protecting a thin silver chain. It had no pendant, only a small hook as a closure, but it was so delicate it left Arvid speechless. On a small piece of paper was written: “A soul gem chain for the most talented white mage I know.”