Stories and Spells

  Ku lifted his gaze to the little moons peeking out from behind the crimson clouds. Skye followed his eyes and noticed for the first time that the sun had retreated below the horizon. How long had he been asleep?

  “The stars… were falling,” Ku continued, his eyes dropping to his calloused palms. Skye counted three fingers and a thumb. “I tried to catch them… before they crashed.” A single tear formed at the corner of his eye, tracing a slow path down his wrinkled cheek. “I failed.” He paused, looking sullen, like a grieving father mourning his child. He shook his head so sluggishly, the short white hairs of his beard barely moved. “I couldn’t collect all the stars. I couldn’t save them.”

  Skye shifted uncomfortably, unsure how to respond or why the old tortoise-bear had chosen to share this vision. He waited, expecting a continuation of the story, or an important lesson, but Ku seemed content to stare at the grass beneath their feet. Skye sighed, his earlier hope that the master might help fading into doubt.

  “Perhaps it was not a dream, but an omen,” Pairi suggested, alighting on Ku’s staff.

  “Perhaps.” Ku nodded deliberately. “Or perhaps… it was a warning… of a tragedy that can still be avoided.”

  He lapsed into silence once more. Seizing the opportunity, Luccello darted to Skye, grabbing his cuffs with tiny talons. “He hasn’t noticed you yet,” the ruff whispered. “Hurry.”

  “Wait!” Skye protested, surprised by how easily the small bird dragged him. “I want to ask him something.”

  “I can’t have you waste his time.” Luccello gasped as he flapped. “He’s already slow as he is.”

  A twig snapped under Skye’s foot, and Ku’s head jerked up, eyes sharp and alert like he’d roused from hibernation. Realization flashed in his eyes, then his expression softened into a kind smile. “You’re awake, child. How do you feel?”

  Luccello muttered what Skye guessed were choice curses, then flew to perch on the log beside Rico, glowering sideways at him. Rico shifted away.

  “I feel fine,” Skye replied. “I want—”

  “His name is Skye!” Rico interrupted, his mohawk feathers shaking as he bounced and flapped his giant wings. “He’s a hairless monkey, and he wants to stay. Can we keep him, master? Please, please, please?”

  Skye stepped forward. “I don’t want to impose. I just want to thank you for taking care of me and ask a few questions… if you don’t mind.”

  Ku’s smile held, but he didn’t reply. It was unclear if this was an invitation to continue, or Ku was sizing him up. Just as Skye opened his mouth again, the old tortoise-bear focus seemed to snap back. “How’s the… little girl?”

  Skye blinked, taken aback. “I… came alone. There is no girl.”

  “Oh, a minor mistake, Master Ku. Happens to the best of us,” Pairi spoke up. “That was Stenser. He left us over thirteen years ago. This is Skye.”

  Redeyes roared with laughter. “You think this senile fool can help you? He hadn’t had a thought in a decade!”

  Ku’s smile held as he nodded to himself. “Days pass… so fast. I am glad you are well, Skye. You may call me… Ku.”

  “Thank you, Ku,” Skye said.

  Luccello slapped him with a napkin made of shining light. “Master Ku!” he corrected sharply.

  “But he said—”

  Luccello slapped him again. “Call him master!”

  “Thank you, master,” Skye said, rubbing his cheek. “I’ve heard so much about what a great teacher and healer you are. I was hoping you’d spare some time to look at my problem. It’s a curse that’s been ruining my life.”

  At that, Ku looked around, searching far and close in the dark. Leaning on his cane, he took a few halting steps toward his house, then turned to examine the log, all the while muttering incoherently.

  “Are you missing something, master?” Rico asked.

  “Yes,” Ku said, still distracted. “It seems I misplaced… my cane.”

  “This is a bloody waste of time!” Redeyes shouted. “We’ll find more sense conversing with an elexos.”

  “You are holding it, master,” Luccello said, engulfing the cane in an aura of light.

  “An honest mistake, fairly common,” Pairi said as Ku stared in shock at the cane in his hand. “One time, I misplaced my wedding ring and angered my sweet wife. She almost divorced me. Turns out I’m a bird, and we don’t wear wedding rings.”

  With careful fingers, Ku tugged an invisible thread from the cane, like pulling a snag from a sweater. To Skye’s amazement, a magnificent golden flower bloomed at its tip.

  “Would you like… to become a legend, Skye?” Ku asked.

  The flower’s beauty stole Skye’s breath and scattered his thoughts. He saw himself soaring above the forest and the snow-capped mountains, captaining a ship through the Beryllian Sea to uncharted lands. There he fought monsters that dwarfed elexii in both size and ferocity, and forged bonds with allies and rivals alike. And when he finally returned to Troqua, the people greeted him with cheers, and all the children knew his name.

  “Yes,” he said, unable to take his sight off the flower.

  Ku chuckled. “Then I…” He pointed the flower at Skye’s chest. “Put a spell on you.”

  A golden sphere of light shot from the flower’s stigma and into Skye’s heart. It felt like a cool breeze on a summer day, making his body shudder and raising goosebumps from his toes to neck. As he exhaled, the flower shrank back into a sapling, then a bud, before disappearing into the cane.

  “What did you do to me?” Skye asked.

  “It seems…” Ku began, “We have much to discuss. Let’s go inside… before rain soaks us.”

  Not a moment after Ku spoke, lightning streaked across the sky, and the grass sang with the patter of the falling raindrops. Everyone rushed into the treehouse. Even Ku managed to put some haste into his pace, cane tapping against the ground.

  Inside, Ku rested his large frame on the rocking chair, shifting his shell until he found a comfortable position. Ka’ib emerged from the shadows, draping a thick blanket over his master’s lap, while Luccello hurried to the kitchen to brew tea. At the hearth, Pairi sprinkled red dust onto the firewood, setting them ablaze, and Rico returned, carrying a wooden chair so Skye may join the master by the hearth.

  A moment later, Skye was drinking from a steaming teacup. Rico struggled to keep still, his tail twitching fast, while Luccello glared like a disapproving tutor.

  “Usually, I don’t cast my spell… without full disclosure of its effects,” Ku said. “But in your case, I feared you’d leave… before I could help. Tell me, Skye… why has fate brought you to me?”

  Setting aside his cup, Skye recounted the events of the last few months. As always, he avoided mentioning the wardens and elexii, focusing instead on the particulars of his curse. The fire crackled in the hearth as he spoke, the rain tapping insistently against the windows. When he finished, Ku seemed lost in thought.

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  “Wow, this sounds amazing!” Rico said. “And completely horrible, of course. I’m sorry for what you’ve been through.”

  “This sounds like a massive waste of time,” Luccello declared. “You are talking reality magic, something even the master struggles with.”

  “Liar! Punishment!” Ka’ib cawed from a shadowy corner.

  “I think it’s plausible,” Pairi chimed in, standing on Skye’s shoulder. “People experience things like this all the time. Then they wake up and realize they were dreaming.”

  Skye sank deeper into his chair. Ku had never been part of his plan. He shouldn’t feel disappointed that a reclusive hermit couldn’t solve his problem, but it still stung. The way the birds spoke of Ku, and his collection of foreign books, had given Skye a sliver of hope. Perhaps it would’ve been wiser to save that hope for Kastrala with its libraries and real scholars.

  “For such a curse to work, a simple astrum would be insufficient,” Luccello said. “What you need is an asterism—a magical artifact of incomprehensible power. And I doubt such an item exists in Troqua.”

  “But my bell is right here!” Skye said, summoning his bell.

  Ku’s blanket flew off as he jumped to his feet, wielding his cane like a sword. Flowers and blooms of every size and hue blossomed along its length, their petals humming, buzzing, shining, or burning. Around the master’s feet and throughout the room, wildflowers sprouted and burgeoned, turning the hall into a garden.

  Seeing their master leap into action, the birds reacted at once. Rico’s body grew larger until he was the size of a horse, his pupils blood-red, his massive beak gleaming sharp enough to cut steel. Luccello and Ka’ib conjured opposing walls of light and shadow to flank their master, while Pairi scattered sparkling magic dust over everything.

  “Put that thing away, son,” Ku said gravely. There was no hint of lethargy in his voice, no weariness, no frailty. His once-tired eyes were wide open, focused as if he could see each drop of blood in Skye’s veins. Even the grizzly face appeared decades younger, the harsh lines of age smoothed away. “Now.”

  Skye dared not move an inch, knowing instinctively that if he so much as blinked, he’d be torn to shreds without realizing it. Slowly, he released his mental tether, and the bell vanished. A moment later, the master sighed and collapsed into his rocking chair as the garden of flowers wilted and faded, leaving only faint fragrance in the air.

  “That was… too stimulating… for my old heart,” Ku said, his breath ragged. He spared a tired smile at Skye, the harsh years crawling back into the creases of his face.

  The birds relaxed in turn. Rico returned to his normal size, Luccello lowered his light barrier, and Pairi’s glittering dust dissolved into unbeing. Only Ka’ib remained shrouded in shadows, his yellow eyes fixed warily on Skye.

  “I—I’m sorry,” Skye stammered, rubbing his leg where the hot tea had spilled. “I didn’t mean any harm.”

  Ku raised a hand to stop him. “I should apologize. Your weapon caught me… off guard. In the future, I suggest… you avoid summoning it… around me.”

  “You could see it?” Skye asked, swallowing hard.

  “No,” Ku replied. “I sensed it… and that was enough.” The birds fluttered about, tidying up the mess and restoring Ku’s blanket. “When I first saw you… I knew something was deeply wrong. The psycho contamination in your mind is… astronomical. I couldn’t fathom how you survived it… or how you acquired it… but now, I understand.”

  “You know what my bell is?” Skye asked, unable to hide the excitement creeping into his voice. “Can you get rid of it?”

  Ku shook his head. “I’m afraid I can’t.” Skye deflated.

  “Told you not to get your hopes up,” Redeyes said.

  “But I understand the mechanism… of your curse,” Ku continued, sipping tea. “The bell you see… is not present with you. You are activating it remotely. Do you remember… how you acquired this link?”

  “No.” Skye was not sure what to make of this. “The first thing I remember is waking up in the Deeps.”

  “When I brought you here… I tried to mend your mind. To uncover the source… of the contamination. But your mental barriers… were impenetrable. Even now, with the psycho fantasia dissipated… your mind remains a fortress I cannot breach.”

  Skye’s eyes widened with realization. The petrification from Geo fantasia caused a similar phenomenon. Basalt and many other prospectors had permanent blotches of stonified skin after years in the Deeps. It made sense that his overuse of the bell had hardened his mind.

  “What does this mean?” he asked, his voice taut with desperation. “How do I remove this link?”

  Ku stroked his thin beard. “To sever this link, you must find… the asterism itself… or the one who made it to learn how it works. If I were to guess… I’d say the creator is… the Keeper of Secrets. To join the ancient order of the Keepers… one must create a powerful asterism that’s related to their title… and evanescence has always been… a fascination of his.”

  “Another Keeper,” Redeyes said. “Perhaps that book wasn’t lying about them being bad news.”

  It is a lead. Skye grinned, trembling with excitement. I have a name to start my search!

  “Do you know where I can find this Keeper of Secrets?” he asked, ready to bolt through the door.

  Ku hummed in thought. “I can’t remember… He was last seen at…”

  Skye waited and waited, but the answer never came. Luccello nudged his master to drink more tea to refresh his memory, but Ku remained lost in thought.

  “The Keeper of Secrets is an old friend of mine,” Ku said at last. “Unveiling enigmas was his nourishment, solving puzzles his reason to live. He always said… the best mystery… is one which only he… knew its answer.”

  “But, master, how come I’ve never heard of a Keeper of Secrets before?” Pairi asked.

  “He’s as real… as I,” Ku replied, drinking tea. “He loved to play hide and seek… and he always won. I believe he’s still playing now, hiding since ages past, somewhere in this vast Dunya. He’s turned himself… into a secret.”

  The gravity of Skye’s task magnified, and his breathing hitched. If powerful scholars and channelers had failed to find this Keeper, how was he supposed to succeed?

  “I need help,” Skye said, swallowing hard. “I know this is a lot to ask, but I don’t even know where to start. Please help me find him.”

  “We’d love to, kid,” Luccello said, “but we have our own duties. We’re sorry.”

  “Maybe Ka’ib can ask his contacts,” Pairi suggested. “They’re great at finding the lost! One time, my wife got kidnapped—”

  Ka’ib’s sharp caw cut him off. “We search only if the master demands.”

  “There’s no need,” Ku interjected. “I’ve been searching for him… for decades without success. And all progress with Skye as its focus… is at risk of being forgotten.”

  Skye slumped back in his chair, crushed under the corpse of his hopes. He turned to the crackling hearth where fiery fingers fought for escape, scorching the burgundy frame, and let them steal his focus for a while.

  Ku had lived in isolation for years. Perhaps someone in the wider world knew of the Keeper’s whereabouts.

  “Do you think I might find more leads in Kastrala?” Skye asked.

  Ku frowned, confused. “I’m not aware… of such a place.”

  “It’s the city beyond the Avyhandouse,” Skye clarified. “How come you’ve never heard of it?”

  The birds exchanged puzzled looks.

  “I’ve never seen a city there,” Rico said.

  “Have you ever flown over the mountains, Rico?” Luccello asked.

  “No, never!” Rico replied defensively.

  Ku stroked his beard. “It could be underground or magically obscured. We weren’t aware your city existed… until we arrived here.”

  Skye tilted his head, his brows furrowed. Every map and account he’d seen depicted Kastrala as a sprawling fortress with impenetrable walls encompassing farmlands that stretched for miles, with the coastal town of Shiema nearby with similar but smaller walls. Still, if the birds had never crossed the Avyhandouse, their ignorance made sense.

  Anyhow, that was good news. It meant that Ku’s knowledge wasn’t infallible. But it didn’t change Skye’s situation. The road to Kastrala was long and treacherous, and his bell couldn’t guarantee his survival.

  “Can you help me cross the Avyhandouse?” he asked.

  “We’re sorry, kid,” Luccello said. “That would be too dangerous for us.”

  “But you’ve lived here for over a decade, and you can fly! Why can’t you help me?”

  “Those who stick their beak where it doesn’t belong DIE!” Ka’ib cawed.

  “Stop threatening murder here, for Lahūtum’s sake!” Luccello admonished. “I apologize on Ka’ib’s behalf again, but we can’t leave the house’s vicinity. We’re truly sorry.”

  Skye sighed. This was another disappointment, but he couldn’t fault them. Elexii were deadly, and Ku and the birds had already helped enough. Outside, rain drummed against the windows, and lightning split the sky. Once the storm passed, he’d leave. The darkness would help him hide.

  “Perhaps we can help you still,” Ku said. “I can provide supplies… and an astrum. What kind of channeler are you?”

  “Go on,” Redeyes taunted. “Tell them what a disappointment you are.”

  Skye winced, unable to meet Ku’s eyes. “I’m a dud. My body isn’t compatible with any fantasia.”

  “That’s nonsense!” Luccello exclaimed. “There’s no such thing as an Adamian incompatible with magic. Your bell proves so!”

  “But I’ve been tested,” Skye argued. “I tried every crystal and couldn’t activate any.”

  “You rely on crystals?!” Pairi scoffed. “Bah, that’s so primitive! It’s like riding animals for transportation or living under a monarchy!”

  “Don’t mock him!” Rico snapped. “Monkeys aren’t that smart!”

  “Luccello, bring me … a Seed of Dusk,” Ku instructed.

  The ruff flew to a door adorned with buzzing flowers, which opened at his approach. Moments later, he returned, dropping a reddish grain into Skye’s hand.

  “What’s this?” Skye asked.

  Ku rocked in his chair. “Collection Testing is a method for checking a channeler’s aptitude against a set of magical items, like crystals. Since people’s potential for magic is endless, no set is ever complete, which makes Collection Testing… ineffective.” He spoke fast, barely stopping for breath.

  “You have fantasia, Skye. Your powers could be potent or ineffectual, but you are a channeler. Your control over the bell proves it. Your city simply doesn’t have the crystal… that matches your fantasia. Eat this seed. It will manifest the powers… dormant within you.”

  Skye’s heart raced as he stared at the seed, not daring to exhume his dream of becoming a channeler. It was an absurd claim. His potential for channeling was so special, Troqua wasn’t equipped to identify it? All basic elements were accounted for at the Academy, so what did that leave out?

  “I hate to spoil the fun, but shouldn’t we test this outside?” Pairi suggested. “A cousin of mine once digested a Seed of Dusk, and it turned out his power was combustion. Blew up himself, my aunt, uncle, and their entire nest!”

  “What?!” Skye yelped.

  “That is a worry,” Master Ku said, nodding sagely. “It’s raining outside. Luccello, please see that Skye doesn’t… vaporize the house.”

  Waving his wings, Luccello summoned an opaque sphere of light around Skye, enclosing him and his chair. Through the hazy barrier, Skye saw the figures of Ku and the birds watching intently.