Exiled (19 page)

Ogilvy, Margaret, and Tabitha sat at the large wooden table by the fire. James paced in front of the fireplace, unable to relax.

“I suppose I shall begin at . . . well, the beginning,” Ogilvy said, shifting in his seat. “I was sent to find your father by Akil. He believed, as you know, that you are the Anointed One prophesized by the Seer. Once I met him and gained his trust, I revealed our world to him and told him of the Seer’s decree. He agreed, after much convincing, to begin training. During one of our training recesses, Alvaro’s people attacked. They kidnapped me and left Margaret unconscious and injured. This was eleven years ago.

“So you’re saying you’ve been held hostage for eleven years? You didn’t appear to be captive when we saw you at the council headquarters,” said James.

“Please allow me to finish before your questions,” Ogilvy said. James nodded, yet frustration was clear in his expression. “I was taken to a place with which I was completely unfamiliar. Even now, I couldn’t tell you where they held us. If I had to guess, I’d say it was in the bowels of some ancient city.”

“At first, they were civil. They asked questions about what I was up to. They asked why I was speaking to your father, James. They wanted to know why I was training him in our ways. How they knew this was happening is yet another mystery. I gave them answers, but nothing they wanted to hear. Akil and I had rehearsed in the event one of us was taken captive. Eventually they became impatient, and that is when the cordiality ceased.”

“They then threatened me. I knew they wouldn’t kill me before getting as much information as possible, so I didn’t worry much at first. Soon, though, the situation became more serious.”

Ogilvy stood from the bench and walked to the fireplace. For several moments he was lost in the dance of the hot coals.

“On the third day they blindfolded me and walked me down a passage and into a room where they removed the blindfold. A man stood in the center of the room. It was too dark to see his face. He held out his hand and a memory orb expanded, engulfing the entire room. He began walking down a hallway, his back to me. He silently opened a door and stepped into a bedroom. There were two beds. Both were occupied. As I got closer, I realized my sons were in the beds. Despite the effort Margaret had made to hide them from Alvaro, he had found them. Alvaro turned and looked right at me as if I was standing in the same room and he grinned a terrible grin. The memory faded and again I was in the darkened room with the man.

“He said he wanted to speak candidly to me. He said, ‘I believe you see, Mr. Ogilvy, the lengths Alvaro is willing to go in order to get what he wants.’”

The man stepped forward out of the shadows, and I gasped. It was Alexander Vinokourov. He paused and looked at me with a sneer. He actually appeared to be enjoying himself.

Broken, I asked what I must do to free them.

Again, Ogilvy paused. James stood transfixed. In the few moments since Ogilvy had begun talking James had felt mistrust, pity, and admiration for the man who stood before him. He knew the bravery required for a man to admit that he had been beaten. He admired this. His father had constantly reminded him that bravery manifests itself in many ways. Standing up in a fight was but one. Admitting one’s own shortcomings was a form of bravery Stuart held in the highest regard and said was reserved for only the wisest of men. James noticed Tabitha was wiping her eyes.

“Vinokourov and I struck a deal. He agreed not to harm my family and in exchange I agreed to become his guinea pig. I would allow his dark sorcerers to perform an experimental incantation on me. If it worked, he would get all the information he required. If it didn’t, I would wander about mindlessly for the rest of my days.”

Ogilvy stood and paced in front of the fire. After a moment he spoke again. “Not even giving me a moment to grieve for the family I was about to lose, the guards marched me into a room full of cauldrons, vials, and glass. The stench was nearly unbearable. Vinokourov entered a moment after and said, ‘I’m told for this to work properly you must be completely willing to let it happen. If you are not, I can assure you of two things. First, you will lose your mind and second, your family will die terrible deaths. Now. Will you cooperate?’”

“I repeated the primer incantation clearing my mind as Akil had taught me and scores of sorcerers before me. I tried to bury my subconscious deep within the recesses of my mind. My voice said, ‘I will.’ My mind was already gone—buried, hidden. I cannot recount what happened after.

My next recollection was waking up in excruciating pain. My head felt as if someone had driven a dagger into it. I cried out, but I heard nothing. My eyes hurt, yet I saw nothing. All was black, then brilliant white, and then I was there, back in my body. I was me again. A blurred face stood over me. I could tell it was smiling at me. It whispered, and my vision became clear. It was Akil. He had come for me. I tried to speak but he quickly put a finger to his lips to silence me. I obeyed.”

“I find it easier if you watch the remainder of this story yourself,” Ogilvy said, extending his palm. From it rose a small blue orb. It expanded, filling the room with the scene.

Ogilvy unsteadily got to his feet. He and Akil were in a darkened cell lit only by the small pink orb floating over Akil’s shoulder. Akil motioned to Ogilvy to follow quietly as he moved beyond the doorway. They proceeded through corridor after corridor and down countless steep, narrow staircases until they finally reached water. Akil stepped quickly into the freezing darkness of the water, giving Ogilvy no choice but to follow or be left behind. His body convulsed from the cold as the water surrounded him. Unable to remain afloat, Ogilvy began to sink into the black depths. A hand reached down and lifted him back to the surface. Along with allowing him to breathe, Akil’s touch gave Ogilvy a renewed strength. They swam through darkness over impossible depths. The terror of the unknown was enough to keep Ogilvy beside Akil despite his desire to stop. A sound echoed in the distance. Akil froze, treading water and not making a sound. After a moment he nodded and continued. The scene faded.

“Time passed. Minutes or hours, it was impossible to know. The only thing I could see was the pink light from his orb hovering just above him in the water,” Ogilvy said, bringing up a new orb.

The pair had stopped swimming. Akil turned to Ogilvy. “Grasp my arm and whatever happens, whatever you see, do not release it,” he said, his first words since their journey began.

Ogilvy wrapped his hand around Akil’s wrist, and Akil held Ogilvy’s wrist. Akil turned his body and began carving a circle through the water with his free hand. As his hand sliced through the water it left a trail of light until they were encircled in it. Immediately, they were surrounded by creatures. Their heads were each larger than a man’s torso, and their necks arched high beyond the reach of the light and back down into the water concealing what must have been behemoth-size bodies. The closest slowly opened its jaws and extended a tubular tongue toward the pair. The moment it breached the circle of light it recoiled in pain. All the creatures let out horrible shrieks and lunged at the men. Without warning the pair began falling through the water at great speed through a tube of light. A moment later they surfaced. They were outside. Free.

Despite the overcast weather, the men squinted, allowing their eyes to adjust to the brightness. Sheer cliffs broke the rolling waves not far from where the men floated. Akil looked at Ogilvy and said politely, “David, you may release my arm now.” Ogilvy looked at Akil’s hand, which had turned white from lack of blood, and released his grip. Akil began to swim toward a low rock formation that stretched out into the sea from the cliffs. Ogilvy followed. They scrambled up onto the rocks and walked a short distance through a narrow natural archway that opened up to a set of steps that had been hewn in the stone centuries ago. Moored at the bottom of the steps was a small sailboat. With the agility of a much younger man, Akil made his way to the boat and Ogilvy followed. Their journey on the water was not at an end.

The orb contracted and Ogilvy continued his narration.

“Because of my diminished state, I don’t remember much from the next part of our voyage. I stumbled upon the deck and collapsed shivering, dehydrated, and exhausted. The next thing I recall, the sun was just cresting the horizon, backlighting the hills that surrounded the harbor Akil had sailed into. I sat up in the boat, looking for Akil, but I discovered no sign of him. Men were moving about the docks readying for a day of fishing. I was wearing new, dry clothes, yet I had no recollection of having changed.”

“Why didn’t you transport once you were clear of the prison’s enchantments?” James asked.

“James, allow Mr. Ogilvy to finish,” Margaret admonished.

Yet another orb filled the room and the group watched with intrigue.

Ogilvy made his way to the dock. There was no sign of Akil. Numerous boats, all much larger than the boat he had just disembarked were moored along the dock. At the end of the dock stood a saloon. Ogilvy allowed his hunger to dictate his first destination, and he pulled on the large wooden door, upon which was inscribed with the name The Thrush’s Nest. The bar was crowded with fishermen. Each had a drink in his hand, and none acknowledged Ogilvy as he entered. Every one of them was captivated by the storytelling of a man in the center of the crowd. Ogilvy smiled at the familiar voice. It was Akil.

“You see, my friends, there is nothing to fear from magic. The power to wield it lies within each and every one of you, should you chose to use it. The fear of it is what prompts some men to demonize it. Do not let other men make up your minds. Discover the truth, which is generally less grandiose or threatening than the truth those who wish to sway your opinions speak. Mortal peril or perpetual danger can be highly motivating for those who believe in it.”

All of the men nodded as a class of schoolboys would nod at their professor after being told a simple truth that had long eluded them. Finally, someone noticed Ogilvy and turned in his direction. The rest of the crowd turned as well, revealing Akil, who was seated at the bar, drink in his hand.

“Ah, I see my traveling companion has finally woken,” he said with a smile, rising to his feet. “I am most gracious to all of you for allowing me to share but a glimpse into my world. I trust you will all take what I’ve shown you here today into consideration before passing judgment on our kind in the future.”

The crowd nodded emphatically at this and several of the men patted him on the back as he moved toward the door. Akil gave Ogilvy a wink and walked past. The door to The Thrush’s Nest closed behind them, and they were alone on the wooden boardwalk that lined the harbor. Ogilvy looked quizzically at Akil but said nothing.

“I imagine you’re wondering why I divulged the secrets of our kind so readily to the so-called unfaithful?”

“Well, I’ve never seen anyone be so candid about  .  .  . us with . . . them,” Ogilvy said.

“The very object of all our efforts is to avoid a war between the magical and nonmagical. Those men may second guess the next time someone tells them sorcerers are a threat to their existence. It makes it difficult to make war when the will of the people is against you.”

They began to walk, following the ever-widening pathway as it transitioned from wood to cobblestones. The street was lined with three-story structures. Merchants were beginning to stir but were not quite as active as the fishermen down on the docks. Akil led Ogilvy into an unmarked door, up a set of narrow wooden steps, and down a dimly lit hall to a small room. It was furnished with a small bed, a rickety-looking round table, and a pair of mismatched wooden chairs. He offered Ogilvy a seat and took the opposite. His grin was contagious, and soon both were smiling at each other like fools. Finally, Akil spoke.

“I’ve done it. All their research and resources, and they were beaten by a simple old man. Quite spectacularly, I might add.”

Akil had a look about him that could be best described as boastful arrogance. He rubbed his hands together as if warming them over a fire and leaned in across the small table.

“What?” Ogilvy asked, taking the bait.

“I’ve reversed what they considered irreversible. They’ve been working for decades to come up with a way to irreversibly alter minds, and every time they’d thought they finally accomplished it, their subject either went blitheringly mad or someone managed to reverse the hex—every time until about eleven years ago, that is.”

Akil stood and began pacing the room excitedly.

“Eleven years ago Alvaro was able to procure the services of a sorcerer previously thought unprocurable. He had sworn never to do magic again and somehow Alvaro was able to change his mind. He is a great sorcerer, although I doubt you’ve ever heard of him. He is slightly before your time. His name is—”

“Alexander Vinokourov,” Ogilvy interrupted.

“So you have heard of him. Marvelous. I trust then, that you are aware of the reason he swore to never use magic again and the accomplishments that gained him his notoriety.”

“I have a limited knowledge. My father used his story to frighten me to sleep as a child. He told me Vinokourov the Terrible was a dark sorcerer. He worked for many heads of state, training them in the dark powers. In his story he said Vinokourov was killed in the last great battle. I always thought he was just a myth.”

“I’m afraid not on both counts. Vinokourov the Terrible was not quite as terrible as he’s been made out in children’s stories, but he was indeed a master of the powers some consider dark.”

Akil had a look of admiration, which Ogilvy, noticeably, found somewhat disturbing.

“Alexander changed the way we do magic. His discoveries have allowed us to peacefully coexist with unfaithful. It’s ironic that he was such a staunch supporter of eliminating them from existence.”

Akil paused for a moment, reflecting yet not sharing his thoughts. He continued: “Rumors of his death are legendary. Smote by the great sorcerer from the Far East in an epic battle. In my travels I visited where Alexander was born in Petroavlovsk in hopes of finding some evidence of his survival for I’d been hearing rumors of sightings of him over the years. This led me to the Scottish highlands, where the supposed battle took place. It was here the trail of evidence abruptly came to an end. It turns out the events that took place during that battle as well as the ultimate outcome are nothing but mere speculation.”