Magician Reborn (Book 2) Read online

  The old woman nodded solemnly. “I shall prepare the elixir for you. If you truly seek answers from within then go with the blessings of the Wakanda. Return here within two hours, it shall be ready.”

  “Thank you.” Xander got up stiffly from where he had been sitting uncomfortably and exited the tent. He had taken a big risk in coming to the silver-haired woman, but Aiyana’s mother was the only one who knew the secrets to making the potion required for the Dream Quest.

  It wasn’t as if he thought Simon had lied about his visions, if that’s what they had been, but they seemed more than mere figments of his imagination. Determined to uncover the truth this seemed the best and most logical course of action. The need for secrecy was paramount, because knowing his best friend, Simon would never approve of what he was about to undertake.

  Thinking about Simon made Xander wonder what the psychic was up to at the moment. After they had finished lunch his friend disappeared, and was nowhere to be found in the camp. Half an hour later he found his answer some distance from the camp in an open field. Amidst the yellowing tall grass Aiyana and Simon lay, casually talking.

  “What have you two been up to?” Xander tried to keep his voice calm and neutral. He trusted Simon implicitly, without question. There was no logical reason he should feel anything against his friend of many years, and yet something stirred deep within, as though he should be the only one next to beautiful young woman.

  Turning at the sound of his voice it was Aiyana who spoke first, and judging from her casual tone of voice, tinged with amusement, there was nothing to worry about. The two were merely engaged in a friendly conversation. No doubt Simon was taking the opportunity to reveal his best friend’s most embarrassing situations.

  “Huritt, come join us. Simon was teaching me a little of your magic.” Aiyana said, motioning for Xander to take the spot next to her in the grass. He considered the itchy prospect but chose to tactfully decline.

  “I was just wandering around, maybe head over to the training area and see what’s happening there.” Xander began walking away and over his shoulder shouted one last warning, “and don’t let him show you the bunny trick!”

  Xander made a bee-line towards the training area – a spot of grassless land the younger tribesmen used for honing their skills of combat. Granted there hadn’t been a war for several decades, and certainly not one that required hand-to-hand fighting, but the young men practiced nonetheless. After watching them spar for a while Xander soon grew restless and decided to head back to camp and wait in his tent. Pushing back the flap he was surprised to find someone had been there earlier. Checking the magical wards they remained intact. Annoyed at the possible intrusion the wards should have alerted him the moment anyone stepped inside the tent. Only another powerful magician would be capable of entering undetected.

  After a cursory inspection Xander noticed a small object wrapped in cloth placed on his bed. Without opening the package he already knew what it was. With no small amount of anticipation, mixed with a little trepidation, he unfurled the contents into his trembling hand. As expected he looked down at a small glass bottle; its contents a murky green colour, making it seem less appetising than Xander had first imagined. If the bottle’s contents were identical to the previous night’s draught, then it would taste just as noxious as its insipid colour.

  A rustling sound from behind was the only warning Xander had that someone was about to enter the tent. With a spell already on his lips he quickly let go of the mana he had channelled, for the person who entered was none other than Aiyana’s mother. Embarrassed at having almost made a terrible mistake, Xander moved aside, allowing the older woman to come inside.

  Looking up at the young magician, the silver-haired shaman extended her hand, and Xander realised she was giving him something. Constructed from twigs tied together with string, she held what first appeared to be a kind of small net, but then he realised it was something more important: a dream catcher.

  Sitting on his makeshift bed of furs and pillows, Xander accepted the intricately woven artefact. Upon closer inspection, he slowly noticed fine details; interconnected strands meticulously woven with beads of glass and the occasional feather or bone of some bird. He marvelled at the fine colouring of the feathers and small dances of light that shimmered when the glass beads were rotated. Even the strings seemed to glow in the gloom of his tent.

  Quite unexpectedly, as his eyes traced through the dream catcher’s patterns, Xander felt effects similar to being mesmerised. He had the sensation of being pulled towards the middle of the dream catcher’s web, as though it were a magical tunnel that eventually led someplace unknown, and unconsciously wanting himself to be taken he was annoyed to be abruptly snapped back to reality.

  The old woman stood over him, her hand gripped firmly onto his shoulder. “That is the path to the Dream World. If you are not careful you may not find the path to return to this world.”

  Xander put the dream catcher down as if it were something dangerous. He may be confident in his own powers, but with little experience in the Dream World he didn’t want to risk getting lost and having someone pull him out.

  “I warn you once more to reconsider,” the silver-haired old woman said, “This is very dangerous and should not be taken lightly; you will be taken deeper into your dream quest, and may take a long time for you to return. Using the dream catcher will aid you only so much.”

  “Thank you, but I am determined to see this through to the end. I must know the truth.”

  The tribal shaman sighed. “If you will not be swayed I shall do what I can to assist your journey. I pray to the Wakanda you find what you seek, you will need their guidance.”

  The old woman took a place opposite Xander, and once settled amongst the cushions and fur blankets began a low chant. There were no discernible words, but Xander could tell by the sound, pitch and rhythm of her chanting that she was invoking her powers. And although she was not using mana in the traditional sense, he still felt the unmistakable presence of magic.

  Without hesitation Xander drank from the glass bottle, and for several moments nothing happened. Wondering if the old woman had made the potion correctly he was suddenly beset with doubts. Maybe she thought by making something harmless he would not have to face the dangers previously mentioned. He considered demanding an explanation but suddenly a wave of exhaustion overcame his senses. As though he had been awake for days and in desperate need of sleep, Xander’s eyes closed involuntarily and he felt the softness of furs and blankets as he lay down.

  Oblivion swiftly took over, and he heard the chanting get softer and softer until nothing but comfortable darkness and silence consumed his being.

  Viper looked out the window and could barely see the setting sun. “It’s time.”

  The magician looked critically at the pathetic assortment of dark mages and vampires assembled for this important job. The boss must not be taking this seriously, sending him such a misbegotten bunch of inexperienced, inept malcontents. Already, Viper knew most would not live long enough to see, let alone enjoy the wealth promised them in exchange for taking down a demon lord. Thankfully his personal crew of murderous scum were up for the task. More riches for them in the end, he smugly thought.

  “We’ve got a long way to travel tonight so don’t fall behind,” he snarled. “According to my calculations, if we don’t make the rendezvous point in ten hours we will be stuck in the open plains with nowhere to hide when the sun comes up. That won’t bother us, but for the vampires it will not be so pleasant, and I would hate to explain to the Hammer how this job was bungled due to something as trivial as a little sunlight.” Viper glared menacingly at the dozen or so vampires that filled his ranks. Most were the usual sort – recently bitten, hyped up on drugs, brimming with enthusiasm to be part of something so important and overly eager to prove they have what it takes to be a true vampire.

  The group remained silent. Among the dozen or so magicians there were quite a few vampires
that looked uneasy about what their leader had just said. For several nights they had managed to travel from one town to another, following the train line, and eventually at some point outside of Chicago they would be staging the ambush. The plan seemed simple enough, and with the promised additional reinforcements waiting at the rendezvous point they would have more than enough firepower to take out the intended target.

  With the sun no longer visible on the horizon, the mismatched group of magicians and vampires left the darkened confines of the house ‘borrowed’ for the mission. The desiccated corpses of the owners were left where they had been fed upon, no doubt someone would find the four bodies and put it down to some animal attack. Someone smart might even link these deaths to the half-dozen others left behind, like a morbid trail of breadcrumbs, an unfortunate by-product whenever the vampires needed shelter.

  Stepping out into the cooling dusk the group of vampires took to the darkening sky in a flutter of bat-like wings. Watching impassively as their inferior companions departed, the magicians transformed into various birds of prey or simply rose into the air, choosing to rely solely on their mystical art to remain aloft.

  Time was now their enemy as the dark magicians swiftly headed towards their final destination.

  A large black wolf raced across the plains.

  This time alone.

  For hours it had been running, over dry brown grassland, sandy desert, and craggy mountains. The moon was waning and yet still allowed plenty of light to see by. Not that it couldn’t see in the dark with its golden wolf eyes, but a little light was more than enough to illuminate the surrounding environment. With no destination in mind the wolf continued running, towards what, it didn’t know.

  The landscape change, but this time the wolf did not recognise its surroundings. It was now in a forest, lush green and populated by towering trees that seemed to touch the stars themselves. For a short while the wolf padded softly on mulch and dead leaves, around twisted tree roots that rose out of the ground higher than a man and just as wide. Smaller roots created a carpet of living wood that looked more like petrified snakes randomly winding their way throughout the forest.

  Emerging from the darkness created by the forest’s thick canopy the wolf entered a clearing. Scattered around were oddly shaped stones and nearby the sound of water could be heard splashing into a pond. There, in the middle of the clearing, stood a beautiful woman in flowing white robes that seemed to sparkle like the multitude of stars above. As the wolf approached it felt calm and at peace.

  “Welcome. I am Kiara. You’ve come a long way to find answers, taking a path most treacherous, but hopefully not in vain. Come, I will show you the rest of the way.” Side by side the young woman and black wolf began walking through the forest.

  Simon looked worried.

  For several hours he was unable to find his friend, and no one in camp had seen him since after lunch at the training area. It was not like Xander to disappear, but what troubled the psychic more was his inability to even sense his friend’s presence. Ever since they had met they shared a unique connection, and could usually communicate telepathically with each other at whim. Simon could even follow the psychic connection and know exactly where his friend was, no matter how far apart they were, but now that connection was completely missing.

  If Xander had been killed or rendered unconscious the link could not be established, much like breaking a rubber band stretched too far. The effect would also have been noticeable to someone as sensitive as Simon. No, his friend was still alive, but as impossible as it sounds, he was not on this world.

  Returning to the tent he shared with Xander, Simon sat down and tried to still his thoughts. Deprived of sight and sound, his other senses became more acute, and for a brief moment he caught the scent of something pungent. Unable to identify the smell Simon probed his surroundings. It wasn’t long before he discovered something out of place – a dream catcher beside Xander’s cot and an empty glass bottle. Simon didn’t need his powers to know what the bottle had contained, and inwardly cursed his friend for such foolhardy behaviour.

  Reaching out to his friend would be futile, as his psychic ability could not breach the Dream World without following a path in. However, he did have a door. Feeling pleased with the discovery, Simon sent his mind to explore the intricacies of the dream catcher. Within moments he felt a strong pull towards the artefact, and before he could even employ a semblance of resistance his consciousness was soaring over a moon-lit plain. Knowing this to be the Dream World, Simon relaxed and let the experience unfold.

  He flew over the undulating grassland, over impossibly tall mountains, and unfathomably deep oceans. Even though time ran differently in this realm Simon realised he could not dally too long, and giving the equivalent of a mental sigh he sent his psychic power questing ahead. The scan swept over the plains and mountain ranges, touching the minds of small non-sentient creatures that inhabited the bizarre dreamscape. How anything could live here was beyond his comprehension, but we’re those things really alive? Not wanting to know the answer to that rhetorical question, Simon continued searching for his friend.

  For a brief moment he came across a lone wolf, searching for something to eat, but after linking with it he knew it to be just an ordinary wolf of the plains. Before moving on, Simon caught a random strand of thought from the animal. It wasn’t intelligible like a message or picture, but more like a feeling; the wolf had recently come across something strange that looked like another wolf but smelt of the tall two-legged predators. Simon felt confident the wolf had crossed paths with Xander sometime during the night, and if so he had to continue in that direction.

  Travelling a lot quicker now that he was able to pick up more traces of Xander’s passage, however, the further he went the more desolate the terrain became which would eventually mean fewer signs of follow. Just when he was about to give up the search Simon felt a sharp stab of pain in his head. Something had just happened to his friend, and from the psychic backlash Simon was experiencing it was not good. If he had to guess, the mental barriers placed around Xander’s memories were being torn down, and by someone a lot more powerful. Sending a thin tendril of consciousness back along the path taken, he attempted to establish communication through the dream catcher.

  We have a big problem! Someone is breaking through the barriers and I’m unable to stop them. Whoever is doing this has also somehow shielded Xander’s location from me. He could be anywhere in this Dream World!

  We’re on our way. We’ll be there as soon as possible.

  Simon hoped they wouldn’t be too late. The last shreds of his barriers were soon to be destroyed, and there’s no telling what was going to be exposed beneath.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Kiara cradled the wolf’s head in her lap. The pain it suffered was obvious, but like a fever it sometimes has to run its course, and as she watched the wolf slowly changed. The black fur fell away to reveal pink skin beneath. The long ears and muzzle withdrew and became less prominent. The claws and nails disappeared to be replaced with longer, slender digits. Where once lay a beast was now a young man, and tenderly sweeping aside a stray wisp of light brown hair she looked down lovingly at him.

  “My son,” she whispered softly, bending down and gently kissed his forehead. “Remember who you are.”

  The young man’s eyes flew open.

  At first it seemed as though he blankly stared up at the starry night sky, but slowly some flicker of activity could be seen just beneath the conscious level. His gaze then turned towards the woman who held his head in her arms and a glimmer of recognition crossed his face.

  “I know you.”

  Kiara nodded, smiling. “Last time I held you like this, a long time ago, you were dying.”

  “I think I remember.” Unconsciously one hand reached up and touched the faintest trace of a scar just below his shoulder. Pain and memories lanced through his mind. Xander recalled the harrowing encounter in a forest, against an unimaginab
le evil. Khaldun. His dagger, dripping venomously with dark magics, plunging into Alex’s flesh. Wait, who?

  “Do you remember who you are?”

  “I am Xander.”

  “No, keep trying, you must remember.”

  “I am Xander, from the Meridian Academy…no, my name…is…” Eyes closed, his face scrunched up, whether from concentration or pain was not obvious, but after a few moments it passed and when he reopened his eyes they were once again clear and focused. “My name is Alex. I was stabbed with Khaldun’s cursed blade. I remember dying, and something dark entered the world.”

  “Your friends,” began Kiara, “found the Water of Life and revived you.”

  For a while Alex laid there, saying nothing, allowing the memories to slowly return. Kiara gently stroked his face, providing comfort simply through her touch. But as more pieces of the puzzle began to fit together the elation of being freed was displaced by a rising anger against those who had kept him prisoner all these years. And he had a good idea who was responsible.

  “Why have they done this to me?” Alex almost shouted as he sat up. Getting to his feet he felt an overwhelming dizziness as the last fragments of his old self returned. However, rather than overwrite the last seventeen years living as Xander, all his memories interwove and mashed together to form a singular entity: he was Alexander Ivanovich, security guard for the Defence Energy Research Laboratory, newly discovered magician and recently resurrected from death. But he was also Xander, student of the Meridian Academy for the past several years

  Then he remembered Silver and Archer, and the others belonging to the Order. He knew them as friends, and yet at the same time they were much more – close relatives who had lovingly watched over him as he grew up. The older memories of Alex conflicted with the more recent experiences of Xander, and he was having great difficulty comprehending both. Co-existence seemed completely unnatural, and yet his mind fought hard to assimilate both realities as being valid. Memories warred with each other like soldiers on a battlefield, until eventually the older, more predominant personality survived to retake control over the host.