Spellbound (the Spellbound Series Book 1) (19 page)

I’m last in line, so I can’t do much but listen as the man with the elephant trunk chants, and slathers ink on the arms of the others. I can tell by how long it’s taking that he’s going into excruciating detail… either that, or he can’t decide what to write. “Don’t touch the ink,” he says after he finishes with each person, “it mustn’t be smudged before the ceremony.” Finally, it’s my turn to receive the same treatment. There’s the sound of ripping fabric, and suddenly, my entire back is exposed to the stale air in the chamber. I grit my teeth to keep from complaining about my ruined shirt, and try my best to relax as the freezing cold ink is applied to my skin. Whereas the procedure seemed to take forever with everyone else, it feels as if mine is over too quickly; the man draws a few symbols down the length of my spine, then apparently stands back to admire his handiwork. A small symbol is drawn on the back of my neck as a finishing touch, and I’m told to wait a little while for the ink to dry.

After a few more agonizing moments of lying motionless, someone mends my shirt for me, and I’m allowed to stand. The four of us stand before the throne, awaiting further instruction, but none is forthcoming. The man simply waves his hand, and without warning, the room around us has vanished, replaced by the indoor amphitheater, morning sunlight streaming through the stained glass windows. It seems as if every Guardian is in attendance; nearly every seat is filled, and loud conversations seemingly tumble over each other, fighting to be heard amongst the myriad voices around them. I scan the crowd for familiar faces, and I manage to spot the yellow-skinned man with the trunk, several of the Guardians I’ve come across in the halls… then on my second sweep, I notice a face that’s all too familiar, and completely unexpected. Right in the very first row, sitting with her feet crossed and trying not to look conspicuous. Krystal made it to the ceremony.

I do my best to contain my surprise, and glance at the others to see if they know what we’re supposed to be doing. Alyssa shrugs in response, just as Athena takes the stage in front of us, blocking the sword in the center of the room from our view. She raises her hands, and slowly, the cacophony dies down, until not a single Guardian is speaking. Athena begins a brief speech congratulating Alyssa, Ryan, Jasira, and myself on successfully passing the trials laid out for us. As she drones on about the symbols drawn on us by the man with the elephant’s trunk, whom she calls Ganesha, I try to make eye contact with Krystal. Rather than looking at me, though, she seems to be staring intently at Alyssa, her eyes wide with alarm. I can’t imagine why, though; Alyssa isn’t doing anything out of the ordinary.

My attention returns to Athena just as she steps over to Ryan, and asks him to step forward. “As always,” Athena says to the audience, “each of the young spellcasters who passes through our halls will be tested to see if they are the Conduit. Any of these potentials may have been chosen to wield incredible power. Ryan, you will be the first one of the day. Step towards the blade, and try to pull it from the pedestal.”

Athena steps aside as Ryan comes forward, and tentatively places his hand around the hilt of the sword. He gives it an experimental tug, then plants his feet and grips the hilt with both hands before pulling with all his might. When it becomes clear that the sword won’t budge, he backs away, and murmurs, “I can’t do it.”

The next of us to try is Jasira, and she makes less of an effort than Ryan did. She seems to have realized that it doesn’t matter how hard you pull; if you’re not chosen, the sword won’t let you claim it.

I hold my breath as Alyssa steps up to the plate. Her hand wraps around the hilt just like those before her, and she gives it a mighty tug to no avail. My stomach drops as I realize that she couldn’t do it, either. As far as I can tell, she far surpasses me in strength. If anyone deserves to be the Conduit, it’s her.

Finally, I’m ushered towards the pedestal, and my heart is racing. It’s time to see if Athena and Morpheus were right about me. I can sense every eye in the room training on me as I do, even Krystal’s, and I notice that my hands have started to shake. I examine the golden hilt of the sword before wrapping my fingers around it, and admire the ruby pommel stone before trying to pull the whole sword free. A current passes through my body, and for some reason, it feels as if the sword is already part of me. I exert a little more force, and the blade springs free, slicing through the air with the sound of a crackling fire. A glance at my right hand’s new occupant explains why; the blade of the sword is now surrounded by dancing flames, the very same color as the ruby hidden under my hand. I drop the sword in surprise, and the flames die out as it clangs against the ground.

I stare at the palms of my hands as soon as they’re free, and a tiny laugh escapes my lips. Against all odds, I’m the one the sword chose. I’m snapped out of my reverie by the sound of Athena’s voice as she addresses the rest of the crowd. “Standing before you is a legend come to life. After eons of waiting, she has finally arrived; Heather Santos, the Conduit of Light.”

There’s no applause when Athena finishes speaking, but rather, complete silence. I get the feeling that everyone is watching me with bated breath, as if waiting for me to do something spectacular. I turn back to look at my friends, only to see that both Ryan and Jasira are eying me with a mixture of surprise and awe. Alyssa, however, is unaffected by the revelation, and asks, “What do you mean Conduit of Light? What other kinds are there?”

“Legend predicts that only two Conduits will ever walk the earth; one aligned with the light, the other with darkness. When both of these beings have awakened their powers, a battle of unimaginable proportions will begin in earnest.”

“And I’m the Conduit of Light?,” I ask in an awed voice.

“Yes. That was decided for you, long before your birth. Your lineage dictates what side you will represent in the time to come.”

“My lineage? But, my mom wouldn’t know anything about any of this. She’s completely normal.”

“Maybe so… but it takes more than one person to make a child.”

This time, I can’t find a suitable response. My father… was a spellcaster? If so, what could possibly have been so special about him that I was born a Conduit? Before I can ask for clarification, Athena addresses the crowd as a whole again. “The time has come for each of these young spellcasters to progress, and reach their true potential. But before we unlock their seals, we will first brand them with reminders of who they were, who they are, and the unlimited possibilities yet ahead of them.”

With that, Athena crosses over to Jasira, places a finger on her forearm, and chants something under her breath. Jasira winces as the ink adorning her right arm flashes red for an instant, before turning a somewhat dull shade of black. Athena repeats the process with Ryan, then Alyssa, and finally, with me. I turn around, she presses a finger against the back of my neck, and I let out a tiny gasp as the symbols Ganesha drew on me burn themselves into my skin.

The branding ceremony appears to be complete; Athena withdraws from us, and as I turn back to face the crowd, she’s begun speaking again. “Now, these four are finally ready to advance, and become capable of all the great things they are meant to achieve.” The entire audience, with the exception of Krystal and a few others, press their palms together as if in prayer, and close their eyes tightly. After a few seconds of nothing happening, I can feel their collective power washing over me, seeping into my skin, connecting with my own. Then, I feel another layer of my own power, buried deeper than I could have delved on my own, rising to the surface. This time, it’s much easier to break the partition keeping my powers contained; I have help, and the experience of the first time is still fresh in my mind.

When I feel the excess power surging through my body this time, I feel completely indestructible for just a split second. Then, without warning, my back explodes with a piercing, mind-numbing pain. The agony is enough to bring me down to my knees, and grit my teeth to contain a scream, as the world fades to black before my eyes. It feels as if something is trying to escape from between my shoulder blades, and I could swear the skin on my back is actually being ripped open from the inside. Hands grab at me, voices around me ask if I’m alright, but I can’t respond. After a minute or two, the pain subsides, and I’m left panting on the ground, sweating as if I’d just run a marathon. I glance at the worried faces around me, noticing that my friends appear perfectly fine, and ask, “What the hell happened? Did something go wrong?”

After a long pause, Athena answers, “There is still much about the nature of the Conduit that we may never know; though we guard many secrets from the mortal world, we are not privy to knowledge of the Conduits beyond what you have already been told. Near as I can tell, the sudden surge of power flowing through you triggered a reaction that your body wasn’t ready for.”

“That’s helpful.” I groan as I stand up straight, resisting the urge to check if my back is slick with blood. “What happens now? Are we done?”

“You are done. Each of your mentors is now free to step down, and take you home at their leisure.” Athena shoots me one last worried look before leaving the stage, and joining the murmuring crowd of Guardians.

I turn to face my friends, and Jasira voices what’s probably on all of our minds. “Is this goodbye?”

“Doubt it.” Ryan pulls us all into one huge hug, and says, “We’ll be seeing each other again, someday. Till then, we can always just call and text each other and whatnot.”

We all nod our assent, except for Alyssa, who shrugs, and says, “I kind of don’t have a cell phone… but, I’ll try to get my hands on one as soon as I can.”

Ryan opens his mouth to respond, but doesn’t get a word out before he’s tackled from the side by a balding man with a red beard. The two of them laugh joyously as they embrace, and start chatting about Ryan’s experience. It’s amazing how thick his accent becomes when he’s talking to his father; I can hardly understand a word. A man that I assume is Jasira’s mentor stands by the foot of the stage, smiling up at her with pride. She walks over to him, and just as I start searching for Krystal, she grabs my wrist, and starts dragging me away from the others.

“What the hell?,” I ask as we draw away from the crowd. “Why are you in such a rush?”

Krystal stops a short distance away from the others, and whispers, “We need to get out of here, right now.”

“But, why?”

“That girl with the purple hair… that’s Alyssa, right?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Think about it… who’s her mentor?”

A tall, slender woman quickly strides towards us from within the crowd, and says, “That would be me.” She may be unfamiliar to me, but Krystal clearly remembers her voice well, because she stops in her tracks. I can practically see the panic welling up in her as she turns to face the woman it belongs to. I can’t tell if it’s her noticeable height, her cherry red lips drawn into a thin line, or the cold, unforgiving glare she’s fixed on Krystal, but something about this woman is making me uncomfortable. “You’re looking well, Andrea… for someone I could have sworn was dead.”

Krystal glares right back at the woman, and mutters, “Selene. Don’t you have a student to attend to?”

“Relax, I’m not here to make a scene… I only wanted to get a good look at your progeny.” Selene grabs my chin tightly with one of her bony hands, turning it side to side. “Hmm. You’re not exactly what I expected… Definitely too scrawny. Guess a Conduit with curves was too much to ask for. And I hope you’re tougher than you look, for your sake.”

“If you have a point, get to it,” I say as clearly as I can with my chin being held so tightly.

“Point? Well, my point is that Alyssa would have been the more sensible choice, but, what can you do?”

“Speaking of which… Allie’s necklace, it broke. She lost control for a while.”

Selene releases me at last, and looks worriedly over at Alyssa, who is still standing with the others. “Is that right? Well, I suppose I’ll have to fix it for her when we get back home.” She returns her icy glare to Krystal, who looks desperately like she wants to leave. “Don’t think that just because your little friend here is a Conduit that she’ll be able to help you finish what you started ages ago. Don’t say you weren’t considering it, I could see the gears turning in your head the moment I noticed you. Facts are facts; she’s still too weak, and we still outnumber you.”

“That’s fine by me,” Krystal says. “I’m more than happy to put the past behind us.”

“But am I?” Selene circles around the two of us, and says, “You don’t just try to assassinate a girl for control of the clan, get everyone we care about murdered, fake your death, and expect to get off scot free. No, I’m afraid your debt still must be paid.”

I glance at Krystal, and mutter, “That’s not what you told me happened.”

“It seems Andie here hasn’t told you everything… oh dear. I’m sure you two have a lot to talk about, so I’ll let you get to it. Be seeing you, girls.” Selene pats my cheek, and slowly walks in Alyssa’s direction. We watch as she grabs Alyssa’s hand, and flashes us one last look over her shoulder, before the two of them vanish.

Part Three: The Hunted

Chapter 21

The moment Krystal brings us back to my apartment, I check every room in the house to make sure we’re alone. My mom isn’t home, so I tell Krystal to wait in the living room while I change. I barely even give the door time to close before I start to rip off the clothes I’ve been wearing for the past few days, and change into pajama pants and a tank top. I don’t care how many times it’s been cleaned, I’m sick of wearing the same outfit every day.

When I come back out, Krystal is sitting quietly on the couch, waiting for me. She must have an idea of how angry I am that she’s been lying to me; she won’t look me in the eye, but rather, concentrates on the ground, chewing nervously on the end of her thumb. There are so many things I want to ask, but I decide to start with something small. In as even a voice as I can manage, I ask, “Who’s Andrea?”