Fracture (Book 1) Read online

  “I succeeded.” Allyn gestured toward the necklace. “Despite my weakness.”

  “The necklace wasn’t the point. It was only a tool. The lesson was to learn to control your body, that your mind has power over it. You were supposed to learn that when given a task that requires deep focus, your mind could ignore the body’s impulses. In this instance, resisting the cold.”

  “I was only distracted.”

  “No. You blocked everything out that wasn’t a part of the task at hand. In order to wield, you need to focus on the power within and ignore the rest. With practice, you will learn to focus with precision and direct it wherever you need it, even in multiple directions at once. Still, I must say, I didn’t expect you to finish.”

  “Why not?” Allyn asked. “I want to learn.”

  Jaxon shrugged.

  “You thought I’d quit, didn’t you?” A sense of pride swelled within Allyn. All he’d done was untangle a stupid necklace, but he found joy in proving people wrong. “I don’t know what I’ve done to make you think I’m worthless or that I give up when things grow difficult, but let me assure you, I don’t quit. And I will prove you wrong.”

  Jaxon eyed Allyn for a moment and then nodded. “Good. Then meet me in the clearing again tomorrow at dawn, and we’ll begin again.”

  Chapter 9

  “What’s it like outside?” Liam asked, peeking over the monitor.

  “Cold and wet.” Allyn sat across from the boy working on his own computer. Liam had jumped on Allyn’s offer to help digitize the library’s archives and had lent him his spare computer. It was a battered and bruised relic, but it had a word processor and, after Liam’s personal modifications, was able to join the manor’s network—another of Liam’s growing list of technical accomplishments.

  “No, I mean outside. What’s it like where you live?”

  “Well,” Allyn said, stalling to find an answer, “it’s noisier.”

  “Noisier?”

  Allyn leaned back in his chair. Liam, it seemed, was more interested in asking questions than working, and Allyn was fine with that. They were sitting in the center of the library, working across the table from each other, each transcribing a separate book. It reminded him of studying in his college library, though fewer people came here. Except for Nyla sitting in the back of the library, working on her own research, they were alone. He hadn’t seen her since he and Graeme had encountered her in the library on his first day, but she still made him nervous.

  “Yeah, you know how it is,” Allyn said. “It’s a lot busier than your little secluded area in the woods.”

  Liam’s face flushed, and he looked away.

  “Wait, have you ever been outside before? Have you ever left the manor?”

  “Of course,” Liam said, a little too quickly. “Noisy. Busy. I know what you mean.”

  “Come on, Liam. You’re the only one I feel is completely honest with me around here. It’s okay if you haven’t left the manor. It’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”

  “I’ve left before. I’ve just never been to the city.”

  “Well, like I said, it’s busier. There’s so much going on, you’ll never be able to see it all, with enough people that you’ll never be able to meet them all. Which is funny, because compared to other major cities, Portland is actually pretty small.”

  “Sounds exciting.”

  Allyn laughed. “It’s not some magical fairyland or anything. It’s just the way things are. It’s actually a little boring.”

  “How can it be boring with so much going on?” Liam stood and took the book he’d just finished back to the shelf.

  Damn, he’s fast. Allyn wasn’t even halfway through his own book. And his was shorter.

  Liam grabbed the next book on the shelf and brought it back to the table.

  “It’s like life here,” Allyn said. “I look around, and to me, it seems like a lot is happening, but to you, it’s normal. It’s like that for me, too. My average day starts at four thirty in the morning, and I’m at work by five or five thirty and usually work until at least eight at night. I do that seven days a week. It didn’t leave a lot of time for excitement.”

  “That’s like one hundred hours a week!”

  “Sometimes more.”

  “Does everyone work like that?”

  “No. I was trying to stand out to impress my boss and get promoted. A lot of good it did me, too. I’m an assistant librarian now.” Allyn smiled, hiding the bitterness.

  “Thanks for the help, by the way. It’s nice to have someone talk to.” Liam nodded over Allyn’s shoulder.

  Nyla was sitting at a desk, scribbling something in her notebook. Her white hair was frazzled and tied into a knot on top of her head. In the three days since Allyn had offered to help Liam, Nyla had been in the library, too. She hadn’t said anything to either of them—though Allyn often heard her muttering to herself.

  “What’s she working on?” Allyn whispered.

  “I don’t know for sure, but I think it has to do with the way Baylis was found.”

  “Her husband?”

  “No, but something was going on between them. I think they were…”

  “What?”

  “Nothing.”

  He’s hiding something. “What happened to him?”

  “To Baylis?” Liam asked. “They found him dry.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “You’re training with Jaxon, right?”

  “If you can call it that. Today, he had me separating a bucket of gravel into different groups organized by color, keeping count of how many were in each bucket—all while sitting in front of the fire, wrapped in a blanket. Each time I lost count, he moved me closer to the fire.”

  Liam laughed. “Mental exercises. Sometimes, I think he finds joy in thinking up new cruel mental games. Has he told you where a magi’s power comes from?”

  Allyn patted his chest. “Within.”

  “I mean the actual fire, water, or air.”

  “No.”

  “Well, it does come from within, but probably not how you expect. Take water, for example. Have you ever heard the term water weight?”

  Allyn nodded.

  “Okay, well, a normal person has about thirteen gallons of water inside their body, so when a magi wields water, they’re actually pulling it out of their bodies. They’re not creating it or pulling it out of thin air or anything. It’s their water. Obviously, our bodies need that water, so we can’t pull too much out, or we’ll die of dehydration. That’s why most magi turn it into ice. Since water expands when it’s frozen, they don’t have to use as much. Plus, it’s more lethal that way, but that’s a different point.

  “But the same goes for fire and air, too, though fire is a little more difficult to understand. Whatever a magi wields, it comes directly out of their body. Baylis was found dry. He had nothing left in him. No water, no air, no heat. Someone had pulled it out of him.”

  “How is that possible?” Allyn asked.

  “It’s not supposed to be. A magi can only wield from their own body. Even a cleric uses their own body’s strength and wellness to heal.”

  Allyn shifted uncomfortably. Nyla was sitting behind them and could likely hear what they were saying—if she was listening. “Graeme said I was healed. Doesn’t that mean a cleric pulled the pain and injuries out of me?”

  “No. A cleric doesn’t pull it from you. They just replace it with their own health. Think of it this way. If you have a cut on your arm, a cleric bandages it with their skin. Your wound will heal, but the same wound will appear on their arm, and they don’t have anyone to heal them. They have to heal the natural way. What happened to Baylis shouldn’t be possible.”

  Allyn watched Nyla scribble in her notebook, oblivious to th
eir conversation. He understood her tenacity. She hadn’t lost a friend. She’d lost someone deeply important to her—a piece of herself. “No wonder she hates me.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “She’s the one who healed me,” Allyn said. “She lost Baylis, and then I gave her my pain, too.”

  Jaxon came for Liam a short time later. Liam never talked about his training, but Allyn assumed it was pretty advanced. Graeme was a grand mage, so like the ability, his proficiency was probably in his blood. If his computer ability was any indication, Liam would be a force to be reckoned with. Liam’s departure left Allyn alone with Nyla, but she was in her own world, somewhere far removed from Allyn or anyone else.

  Allyn watched her from across the room. She pored over several open books that surrounded her in a semicircle. Scribbling furiously in her notebook, she quietly muttered to herself. He didn’t know if she was reading aloud or talking to herself, though neither would have surprised him.

  She looked up from her notebook and in Allyn’s direction. He threw his head down, feigning concentration on the computer screen in front of him. He’d been finished for some time, but didn’t know what to do next since Liam usually chose his projects. When he built up the courage to look in Nyla’s direction, she was back to work.

  Without knowing what else to do, Allyn returned the book to the shelf. It wasn’t a book so much as a journal recounting a magi family’s struggle to hide after the Fracture. It ended abruptly, leaving Allyn with a pit in his stomach. He hoped the family had fled and left behind their nonessential belongings, including the book, but something told him that was unlikely. He selected the next book, but it was written in a language using an alphabet he didn’t recognize. Frowning, he put the book back but made a mental note so he could tell Liam where he’d left off.

  Behind him, Nyla rose to her feet, gathering the books on the table into a stack in her arms. She grabbed the ladder awkwardly with her free hand, using her chin to hold the books against her chest, and pulled the ladder into position. She was halfway up when the books fell. Allyn winced. It was like watching an elderly man fall and knowing something would be damaged. Liam had instilled in him a respect for the text. To respect the text was to respect the author and the life they lived—their struggle, glory and all. In most cases, the texts were the only remaining history of the author’s life, and that deserved a gentle hand and honored treatment.

  Before he knew what he was doing, he was across the room, helping Nyla scoop up the books. Thankfully, there wasn’t any serious damage. “Do you need some help? I could hand them to you.”

  “I’ve got it,” Nyla said.

  “Let me help. You obviously have your hands full. I don’t want to see these books get ruined before we’ve had a chance to transcribe them. For Liam’s sake.”

  “Fine. That one first.” She pointed at the bottom book. It was thin, probably a collection of papers that had been bound together at a later date. Allyn handed it to her after she rose to position.

  “Where to next?” He grabbed the ladder. She pointed to the far end of the room. “Hold on.”

  Book by book, Allyn and Nyla returned the books to their rightful places.

  “Thank you,” Nyla said when they were done.

  “You’re welcome. I’m in here almost every day. If you ever need help—”

  “You can’t help me.”

  “Of course not.”

  “No. You can’t help me because I don’t know what I’m looking for.”

  “You’re right. I wouldn’t be much help then, would I? But if something changes and you could use an extra pair of eyes, let me know. I’m good at doing research. It’s something I do every day at work.”

  “Why are you being so nice to me?”

  “You healed me.”

  “So?”

  “You saved my life.”

  “It was nothing personal,” Nyla said. “It’s what I do.”

  Allyn frowned. “I still appreciate it.”

  “You’re welcome.” The words sounded forced and unnatural, as though she were trying them on for the first time, but she wasn’t trying to rip his head off anymore. And that, Allyn thought, was important.

  Liam kicked a rock, sending it cascading off the trail and bouncing off a tree. A squirrel darted out of the underbrush in front of him. Startled, Liam came to an abrupt stop, his feet sliding in the mud. The rain had let up for the moment, though if the black clouds suggested anything, it was sure to return at any time. The squirrel vanished back into the forest. Liam kicked another rock, meaning to send it down the path, but it veered off in an unintended direction.

  His training session hadn’t gone well. They never did. Jaxon was his reassuring self, telling him that his time would come, to be patient and to keep working. But Liam knew the truth.

  He was a failure. A disgrace. An outcast.

  He was probably the first son of a grand mage who couldn’t wield. He’d spent his childhood like a prince, waiting for the day when his father would pass and he would inherit the crown. But unlike a king, a grand mage could resign the post when he or she could no longer lead. And Liam’s ascent to grand mage had never been a sure thing. His Family would have its say. They would choose whom to follow. If he couldn’t wield, he wasn’t a magi, and he would never become the grand mage. His father would never relinquish command to Liam, and the Family would never follow him if he did.

  He wanted to release the festering self-loathing building inside him with an animalistic scream, but a display of emotion of that magnitude would be a lapse in control. And a magi who lost control was a magi who couldn’t wield. Or at least that was what Jaxon always said.

  The exercise was pointless. Liam couldn’t wield anyway, so what would be the harm? Maybe, he thought, I can’t because I’ve already lost control. The desire might have corrupted him. Do other magi have self-doubts? Do they struggle for control, too?

  Allyn had started training and wasn’t shy about talking about it or asking questions, but Liam had no one to talk to. Jaxon was his instructor, but he didn’t seem to understand. And since Jaxon was also the son of a grand mage—albeit from a different Family—talking about it with him was even more difficult.

  Leira was a cleric, and they were different, so she couldn’t help, and he would never ask his father—that would only shame him further. He was on his own and had hoped to find something in the library, but so far, his search had been fruitless.

  Liam’s pocket vibrated, stopping him mid-stride. He conspicuously checked for onlookers—even several acres from the manor, watchful eyes could be present—and when he was satisfied there weren’t any, he slid off the trail and into the forest, where he hid behind the base of a large tree, with his phone in hand.

  His father would kill him if he ever found it. The manor’s computers, security systems, and jammers were all designed for one thing: keeping the wrong people out. His phone was a gateway to the outside world, and with it came a potential threat of dependency. The day they became dependent would be the Day of Disintegration when the remaining Families splintered into oblivion.

  Liam believed otherwise, even if he didn’t voice his thoughts. Technology wasn’t to blame for their faltering numbers, and it didn’t breed out their ability to wield. The real problem was how they straddled the fence between both worlds, using technology while disavowing it, claiming purity but knowing it was a lie. He didn’t know who the magi were anymore or who they would become, and that uncertainty caused a splinter in their ranks. Surely it had created a similar splinter in him and the growing number of other magi who couldn’t wield. Technology wasn’t the problem. Uncertainty was.

  But who would listen to him? Who would believe him? He was a technological genius who couldn’t wield. He was living proof of his father’s ideology. He had to learn to wiel
d. Until he did, he wouldn’t have a voice.

  The touchscreen phone had a mirrored image of a bitten apple on the back. Leira had found it and given it to him after a fair amount of pleading on his end. He still owed her a favor. His father might kill him for having it, but Graeme would destroy her if he ever found out where Liam got the phone.

  The words “Search Complete” glowed on the screen. It didn’t tell him what the search had found; he would have to check his computer in the library for that, but the search was done. And they would have an answer. Even if the search hadn’t found anything, they would have an answer of sorts. In that case, they might be able to finally rule out Allyn being a distant relative. But if it did find something…

  Liam smiled. Being useful would feel good.

  “It’s not the results I distrust,” Graeme said, “but the manner in which they were discovered.”

  Allyn, who seemed as annoyed as he was, stirred beside Liam. His father sat behind his desk, leaning back in his chair, his hands together in front of his face. Rain streaked down the window, fogging the edges and forming condensation on the inside.

  Liam shook his head. Graeme told him that he trusted him but didn’t trust the tools he’d used. He wanted his own people to recreate Liam’s research by hand to verify the results. But he wouldn’t be looking for verification. He would be looking for inconsistencies, mistakes, anything to ignore what was right there in front of his face.

  “I’ll have Leira organize a team and search through the archives by hand,” Graeme said. “Just to be sure.”

  “To what end?” Liam asked, louder than he intended. “I already searched the archives. I’ve already done exactly what you’re going to do. It’s a waste of time.”

  Allyn shifted. He opened his mouth partway, as if he were going to say something, but he remained silent. Liam was thankful for that. This was between him and his father, and Allyn didn’t need to get involved.