Island of Legends (The Unwanteds) (11 page)

Part Three: loyalty, devotion, zeal, intensity.
fury.

And in the tiniest print next to the crossed-out word:

No! Passion. Use “passion” instead.

I
t was amazing how much more complicated the live spell was compared to the restore spell. But when Alex thought about it, it all made sense. He finished reading the section, noting that Mr. Today recommended bringing a creature to life in a safe, enclosed space and to alert anyone nearby to his actions so they could take cover if necessary.

Mr. Today went on to explain that just like the other Triad spells, the words should be concentrated on and thought deeply about, while wearing the robe, of course. Oh—and the mage should lay his hand on the side of the creature when performing the spell, or it wouldn’t work at all.

Alex took the book into the Museum of Large. He looked at the whale and then back at the book. He reread the passage extra carefully this time. And then he looked at the whale once more.

“I can do this, I think,” he said. His knees quivered and he felt a little light-headed. “I mean, of course I can. I already did one of the Triad spells, and I didn’t even have the book for it. So . . .” He let his hand slide across the belly of the whale. A bit of still-damp paint came away on his fingers and shone in the light of the museum. Alex’s heart pounded. Could he do what Mr. Today said to do? Could he put that much of himself, his dreams, into this creature? He wasn’t sure.

But Alex was no longer a frightened boy. Alex was a mage now, who had taken on the end of his world and almost single-handedly brought it back to life. Surely he could handle bringing one creature to life for the first time. And now Sky was counting on him to do this. A silly grin crossed his face as he thought about kissing her. But he knew he had to focus on this spell if he was going to do it right.

He studied the instructions again, took a deep breath, and placed his hand on the whale’s side. And then, trying hard to push thoughts of Sky far from his mind, he began.

“Initiate,” he said, thinking about the word and what it meant. Starting something for the first time—that was definitely something he was doing here with Spike. When Alex felt he had focused on “initiate” long enough, he moved on to “invigorate.” He closed his eyes, thinking invigorating thoughts that might transfer through his hand to give life and vigor to the whale. He could almost feel the power pulse through his fingertips. And then he moved on to “instill,” softening the pressure against the whale’s side a bit, trying to think of every good thing he had inside himself that he could transfer into the creature. Things like the wisdom he had gained since coming to Artimé, and the experience of deepest sorrow, which can only come from deepest love. Alex wanted the whale to have the ability to reach both . . . even though he knew that both at times could be quite painful.

Alex wanted to instill a sense of right and wrong in the creature, and so he focused his thoughts for a moment on kindness, tolerance, and selflessness, which Alex associated with making good and right choices. And he wanted the whale to be brave and strong and intelligent, so he thought about those things too.

It took quite a long time to get through the first three words
of the live spell, and Alex was already tired by the time he got to the word “improve.” Still, he pressed on, now focusing his attention on improving the things he’d already cast upon the sculpture. He wasn’t exactly sure how to do that, but in his mind he imagined the most perfect creature companion, and ideas came pouring out.
Let Spike speak and understand any human or creature. And be able to send messages through sonar!
he thought, and then added, feeling a bit panicky about all the gifts and abilities he was bestowing on this creature,
But only for good. And . . . to benefit others.
Alex could only guess that unbridled magical abilities could cause extremely bad problems. And even though there were times when he wished he could do everything magically, he knew that ultimately he wouldn’t want the burden of it. It was hard enough just being mage now and having people clamoring for him to fix every little thing they couldn’t fix on their own.

When Alex could think of no more ways to improve on the initial phase of the live spell, he took a deep breath and opened his eyes so he could review the second phase. Spike seemed slightly brighter in color than before, and her skin seemed warmer. But her eyes remained closed.

“Let’s get on with it, then,” Alex murmured, as if to assure the whale that he would continue.

He spoke the words in turn, concentrating very seriously on each. “Comfort,” he said, picturing not only physical comfort for the whale, but also sort of a spiritual, emotional comfort that would emerge in times of distress. “Happiness,” he added, and then “Peace,” thinking about how much he wanted both for himself as well, and emitting an extra burst of concentration in those areas as the thoughts pulsed through his fingertips into the beast. “Success.” Alex thought about the whale overcoming any obstacle and leading other sea creatures to victory.

Immediately he rolled into the third phase. “Loyalty,” Alex said, thinking of Simber. “Devotion.” He pictured the girrinos, most especially Arija, who had given her life for the safety of Artimé. “Zeal,” Alex said, not quite positive what the word meant, but thinking it had something to do with really liking to eat, since a cook in the mansion’s kitchen had used the word once in talking about all the food Samheed had on his tray. So Alex pictured Spike with a real love for food.

He was getting a little dizzy with all the concentrating. Bringing life to a creature was no light task. He moved on.
“Intensity,” he said, thinking of Ms. Octavia and her abilities, and then going off script as he sometimes had a tendency to do in Actors’ Studio, he added, “Speed,” and pictured the whale positively flying through the sea.

Alex moved on. “Passion.”
Yes,
Alex thought.
Passion is what must take the place of fury. Passion makes us want to live another day, to try to do the right thing. Passion contains love and fear and anger and motivation. Passion keeps you fighting when you want to give up.
It was, Alex reflected later, something you could even work to improve inside yourself.

As he neared the end, Alex was tempted to add “fury” despite Mr. Today’s crossing it out. But Alex didn’t want to mess with Mr. Today’s obviously well-thought-out spell. Having “Furious” in her name would have to do. And really, Spike Furious was probably the best name a creature could have.

Alex turned the page, keeping one hand on the whale.

Finally, address your new creature by name, urging him or her to take a breath.

Don’t forget to step back and give your creature some room to breathe and move about.

Alex put the book down and placed his other hand on the whale. He took a deep breath and said, “Spike Furious, you are alive! Take your first breath!”

There was a hum, a buzz in the air, and the whale began to shimmer. Alex stumbled backward so he could watch, taking it all in. “Spike,” he breathed again, unable to contain his excitement. “Breathe!”

The enormous creature opened her milky eyes, which expressed immediate surprise in a most beautiful way.

Her blowhole pulsed and her tail flapped.

She breathed once, twice.

And then her body began to slump and sag.

Her eyes became pinpricks of fear, and her gorgeous blue skin turned a sickening shade of gray.

A
lex paled. His hands rose to his forehead, his fingers threading through and gripping his hair. “What is it, Spike? What’s wrong?”

Spike’s eyes rolled back and her lids closed. Her sides heaved, and a moan came from somewhere deep inside her.

In an instant Alex realized that he had made a horrendous mistake.

He ran to her side and placed his hand on the whale, struggling to think of the term he needed. “Um, Im-Improve!” he shouted. “Be able to live on land!” He jiggled the heaving creature’s
side, which had become very hot. “Stay alive,” he cried. But it was no use. The spell had been enacted, and there was no way to go back and fix it.

Wildly Alex looked around for water, but there was nothing here—he’d have to run all the way to the kitchenette, and even then he had only teacups with which to transport it. “No!” he cried as the memory flooded back—the memory of Mr. Today talking about how he had found this whale on the shore, and how he had watched it die because it couldn’t get back into the water. Now Alex had brought it to life only to watch it die again. It was the most horrible thing he could imagine. And he had done it to the poor creature. Guilt raked his insides.

“Water!” Alex yelled, pointing at a book, trying to create it. But nothing happened. He’d never been able to do it—Lani was the only one he knew of who could turn things into soup, and as far as he knew, putting the whale into soup wouldn’t exactly solve the problem. He needed to get the whale into water. He needed to get the whale into the sea.

An idea sprang to Alex’s mind. The transport spell! He’d transport the whale to the sea. But what if she swam away? Alex whipped his head around, looking for any other option
that would assure him that Spike would live, but there was none. All he knew was that he couldn’t let this whale die. Alex put his hands on Spike’s side once more.

He screwed up his face, clenching his jaw and squeezing his eyes shut, as he pictured the sea of Artimé, just off shore but in deep enough water that the whale could be fully immersed. And even though he was exhausted from creating the beast, he mustered up his strongest concentration, picturing the location where he wanted to transport her.

When he was sure he had focused sufficiently, he muttered, “Transport.”

He waited a moment, but he could still feel the creature struggling under his touch. He peeked at her, then shut his eyes once more. “Transport,” he said, louder and more desperately this time.

But the whale didn’t disappear.

“Ugh!” Alex had no idea why it wasn’t working. “Come
on
!” He tried a third time, to no avail.

“I’m so sorry!” he cried, clinging to Spike. “I don’t know what to do! Why won’t it work?” Alex turned away, slumped to the floor in agony, and buried his head in his hands. He
would have to stay until it was over, that much he knew. The whale’s gasps and moans, her shuddering flank—all of it was the most horrendous thing Alex could imagine. And he was the cause of it. No wonder Mr. Today had stopped making creatures. It was too painful when you made a mistake.

When Alex looked up, he found himself staring at the statue of Ol’ Tater and remembering his conversation with Mr. Today about the transport spell. And soon the words came back to Alex. Ol’ Tater had been transported to the Museum of Large with a transport spell, but that was
after
Mr. Today had put him to sleep. “It doesn’t work with humans or living creatures,” Mr. Today had said.

Alex looked up at Spike in horror. That was why it didn’t work. Spike was a living creature. At least for a few more minutes. It was agonizing. Would he even be able to bring back a creature who had died? Ol’ Tater hadn’t died—Mr. Today had put him to sleep. Was there a difference? Alex jumped to his feet. He couldn’t stand it—Spike was in misery. He looked at Ol’ Tater once more, and then, slowly, Alex turned toward the whale and began singing, his mind searching desperately for the words and changing the ones that mattered:

“Spikey girl, Spikey girl,

Too much sadness, no repeats.

I am sorry, more than sorry,

But it’s time for you to sleep.”

Immediately the whale ceased her struggles, and her body turned back into the materials Alex had used to make her.

The new mage checked her over carefully and emitted a long sigh. At least he had put her out of her misery. But he was still very sorry to have made her suffer so much first. It had been a mistake. A big one. And it had been made on someone else’s life. Alex knew he would most certainly never forget it as long as he lived.