Magic Awakens (The Evermores

Chronicles Book 8) Martha Carr &

Michael Anderle
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MAGIC AWAKENS
THE EVERMORES CHRONICLES™ BOOK 8
 MARTHA CARR
MICHAEL ANDERLE
This book is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events
portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are
used fictitiously. Sometimes both.

Copyright © 2022 LMBPN Publishing

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Cover copyright © LMBPN Publishing
A Michael Anderle Production

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LMBPN Publishing
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Version 1.00, June 2022

ebook ISBN: 979-8-88541-489-0
Print ISBN: 979-8-88541-490-6

The Oriceran Universe (and what happens within / characters / situations /

worlds) are Copyright © 2017-22 by Martha Carr and LMBPN Publishing.
T H E M A G I C AWA K E N S T E A M

Thanks to our JIT Readers

Dorothy Lloyd
Christopher Gilliard
Dave Hicks
Diane L. Smith
Zacc Pelter

Editor

SkyFyre Editing Team

 C O NT E NT S

Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36

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Author Notes - Michael Anderle
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 CHAPTER ONE

Fran Berryman raised her wand and peered around the toy factory.
The machines were silent, the whole production line switched off,
and the bright lights should have made her targets obvious. Still, she
caught only the briefest glimpse of movement, somewhere beyond
the machines that stuffed the teddy bears.
"There," she whispered and pointed across the room.
Her team spread out and crept across the factory floor, around
stacked crates and silent machinery. The gray-haired gnome Bart
Trumbling had his hands raised with magic sparking around his
fingertips. Gruffbar Steelstrike wore his beard unusually short for a
dwarf. He had an unlit cigar clamped between his lips and carried a
shotgun with ax blades at the end of the barrel. Smokey the shifter
was in his usual cat form, prowling under the conveyor belts with
claws bared, wearing a web harness to carry his phone and tools.
Singar Twitchtail held a magitech tube connected to a reinforced
backpack, a portable pest trap of the Willen's creation. And of
course...
"I can't believe we're reduced to this," Elethin Tannerin hissed.
"Grubbing around for pests in someone else's factory."
"We need to make money somehow," Fran reminded her.
"Still, this whole business is ghastly. I mean, look at this outfit..."
Unlike anyone else on the team, Elethin had somehow managed
to turn her cheap secondhand overalls into something shapely and
almost stylish, drawing in the garment and the eye with a carefully
chosen belt. Still, it wasn't enough for the elf, who preferred high
fashion and boutique shopping to thrift shop work wear, and was
determined to let the world know it.
"It's only been a few years since you were wearing prison
overalls and cleaning the bathrooms at Trevilsom," Gruffbar growled.
"If any of us are suited to this work, I reckon it's you."
"How dare you!" Elethin raised her hands and magic flowed
between them. "I should stick you in one of those cages not—argh,
rat!"
 It wasn't a rat. As far as Fran could tell, it was some sort of furry
pixie. Its wings fluttered as it buzzed out from under the stitching line
and flew at Elethin with magic sparking around its tiny fist. Elethin
flung up a magical shield that deflected the incoming creature, and
Fran hit it with a blast of sound. The stunned pixie tumbled through
the air to be sucked up by Singar's machine.
"One down already," Fran said brightly. "This shouldn't be too—"
Dozens of the creatures poured out of the machines, waving tiny
hammers and wrenches or fists full of stinging magic. Fran used
blasts of light to blind some as they flew at her friends. One caught
her from behind, hitting the back of her neck with a charge like an
electric shock.
"Ow!"
Fran stumbled, turned, reached out, and used her magic to
summon a weapon. A broom flew across the room to her.
"I'd hoped for something more impressive." She hefted the
weighty broom with both hands. "I guess this will do."
She swung it, batting one of the pixies out of the air, then hit a
second with a calculated swing that sent it flying into one of its kin.
The two stunned creatures fell to the floor and were stuffed into a
cage by Bart.
"I used to like working with you people." Elethin summoned an
illusion of an eagle to chase a pixie into a cage. "Or tolerate it, at
least. We had offices. We had budgets. We had prestige. We had
magazine covers. We had coffee machines and swivel chairs and
assistants to run errands."
"Yeah, well, that was before we lost our business." Gruffbar
pulled the trigger on his shotgun, knocking one of the pixies out with
a beanbag round. "Now someone else owns Mana Wave, so unless
you want to sneak in at night and sit in someone else's swivel chair
—" He caught another pixie between the flat of his ax and the side of
a machine. "—you're going to have to make do with this."
"But pest control?" Elethin pulled a disgusted face. "Was this
really the best we could do?"
"We've got experience," Bart pointed out. He stacked one cage
on top of another, then ducked as a pixie buzzed at him, stinging
hands extended. "All those times we cleared out mutant rats or
magical constructs from our warehouses and factories, it's coming in
useful now. Aren't you glad we did that work for ourselves?"
"Not even slightly." Elethin waved, and a sheet of fake fur flew off
a roll. It enveloped half a dozen of the pixies and brought them down
in a tangled lump, like some sort of kicking, squirming, mutant soft
toy.
One of the pixies had gotten onto Smokey's back and was riding
the indignant cat shifter, clinging to clumps of fur with tiny hands.
Smokey bucked and shook, but the pixie clung on like a rodeo rider.
Fran pointed at it and launched a concentrated beam of sound. The
pixie groaned, its eyes rolled back in its head, and it fell to the floor.
"Don't worry, Elethin," Fran said. "We'll get Mana Wave back.
You'll see."
"How exactly are we going to do that?" Elethin grabbed a pixie
that had gotten hold of her long blond hair, flung it on the floor, and
kicked it over to Bart. "We've got no money, no legal leverage, and
no reputation to speak of despite all the hours I spent carefully
crafting our public image. It's been a month, and for all your
optimism, we're no closer to having a plan."
"That's why the optimism's so important," Fran said. "How else
are we going to keep our spirits up?"
"In the absence of shopping and celebrity parties?" Elethin shook
her head. "I have no idea."
The pixies were starting to back off now. Moving like a swarm of
oversized two-legged bees, they pulled back down the factory
toward one of the cutting machines.
"That must be where they have their nest," Fran said. "Come on,
let's get this done, then we can all go for coffee and cake."
"Or we could save our money," Bart said. "I suspect we're going
to need everything we can get, whatever our plan ends up being.
Business isn't cheap."
"I don't think a few muffins and cappuccinos will make the
difference," Fran said. "As much as I love my company, I don't want
to sacrifice every last shred of happiness to get it back." She
laughed. "That gives me an idea. Hold them off for a minute."
 She took off her backpack, unfastened the roller skates tied to
the side, and put them on. Meanwhile, the others slowly advanced,
using weapons and magic to keep driving the pixies back.
"Could we buy the company back?" Singar asked. "I mean, if we
got enough money?"
"In theory?" Bart, formerly the company's accountant, nodded.
"Potentially, yes, if the current owners agreed to sell, but given that
Talthin Crane arranged the whole thing as an act of vengeance, I
don't see him doing that." He caught one of the pixies in a bubble of
levitational magic and steered it into a cage, which clanged shut on
the magical pest.
"Besides, there's a big gap between that theoretical concept and
what we can afford. It would be hard to attract investors for a project
like this, especially with the questions the court case raised about
our reputation, and there's no way a bank would loan us enough
funds. Short of a royal-scale inheritance, I don't see how we'd
manage it."
"Back to court then?" Smokey asked, then pounced and pinned a
pixie beneath his paws. "Get the case overturned?"
"I'd like to," Gruffbar said. "After all, I'm a lawyer, not a rat
catcher. But it's not straightforward to get an appeal into court, never
mind to win one, and the Mana Valley judiciary's been awful
defensive lately, less in the mood to undo each other's judgments, in
case they get challenged themselves."
"You're making it sound so hopeless," Elethin said. "Please don't
tell me we'll be stuck with work like this for the rest of our lives."
Fran smiled. Elethin was a lot less inclined to talk about her
future these days and more inclined to talk about where they were all
going. Despite her complaints, the PR elf wasn't going anywhere.
The team would stick together. Even if Fran never got her company
back, she had built something great with this group of colleagues
and friends.
Of course, she would get her company back. She just hadn't
worked out how yet.
"We'll get Mana Wave back," she said. "Once we work out the
right plan. Speaking of which, my plan for today is now ready."
 She got up, broom in hands, and skated down the factory, picking
up speed. As she approached the machine holding the pixie nest,
she set the broom's bristles to the floor and let her Evermore power
flow through her hands, through the broom, and into the concrete
surface. It created a low, discordant noise that followed her as she
circled the nest. Any pixie getting close to that noise clamped their
hands to their head and reeled back.
Fran looped around once, twice, then carried on, creating a wall
of magical sound that kept the pixies in. With each circuit she skated
a little closer to the nest, squeezing them into an ever-tighter space.
The others approached.
"Now what?" Smokey winced as he stuck his head too close to
the wall of sound. "I don't want to go through that into a swarm of
angry pixies."
"No need." Singar pushed the tube of her device through the
sound. It trembled but didn't take any real damage from the noise.
"You guys bring the cages over. My pack's going to fill up pretty fast."
It was easy for her to catch the pixies with her vacuum tube,
given how close together they were. The creatures gibbered and
squealed as it sucked them up, and a few flung themselves at the
barrier in desperation. One even broke through, but Smokey
pounced and snatched the disoriented creature out of the air.
"I suppose we could start a new business." Fran was still skating
in ever-smaller circles, broom against the floor. Singar drew the tube
back temporarily to let her past. "I mean, it wouldn't be the same as
Mana Wave, but as long as we're together, that's something, right?
We've built one successful business. We could build another."
She tried to sound positive about the idea. It seemed unfair to
trap her friends in this situation, chasing an impossible dream
because she couldn't let go. She would rather find something they
could move on to together than be the one who held them back. Still,
the thought of it was a painful one. She had built Mana Wave from
nothing, fulfilling a lifelong dream. She had poured her biggest hopes
and her best ideas into it. How could she let that go?
"I like the devices we made." Singar sucked up more pixies. "We
wouldn't get to work on refining them in a new company."
 "The branding was beautiful," Elethin said. "Yes, I could make
something beautiful again, but the color scheme really went with my
eyes."
"I'd recruited the perfect team of accountants," Bart said. "New
ones wouldn't be the same."
"That grinning turd bag Crane did this because of me," Smokey
hissed. "No way I'm letting him win."
"And that's the argument that wins it." Gruffbar shut the door on a
cage and snapped the lock into place, shutting away the last pixies.
"Let's face it. We wouldn't have gotten to where we did if we weren't
all stubborn as hell, right?" The others nodded. "Which means, no
matter what we say it's about, what really matters is that none of us
wants to let the people who took our business win, right?"
They all nodded. Fran, who could stop skating now that they'd
got all the pixies, kept going anyway, looping around and ducking
under machines. It was more fun than standing still, and her friends'
attitudes were lifting her spirits, making her want to run free like this.
"So there it is." Gruffbar stuck his cigar between the bars of the
cage and lit it off the magical energy from one of the pixies' hands.
"We keep on fighting until we get back what's ours. We talk it through
until we've got a plan, which we follow. If that plan doesn't work we
try another, and another, and another, until we get there. Because I'll
tell you this, I'm a lawyer, not a quitter."
He blew a smoke ring and stood back, grinning.
"Lovely." Elethin sighed and took out her phone. "In that case, we
should take these cages over to the wild magicals sanctuary and get
across town. We have another dirty, disgusting, unfashionable, and
sadly financially necessary job booked."
"On the way, let's talk plans," Fran said. "I've been wondering if
there's some way we can use all these creatures we've caught to get
our company back..."
 C H A P T E R T WO

Josie Bullworth stood in the doorway of her apartment with a travel

cup full of green tea in her hand. It was a lovely apartment, large and
stylishly decorated, with sprawling sofas, a marble kitchen counter,
and all the modern magitech gadgets anyone could want. It was
convenient for work and all the hottest places to go in Mana Valley,
the places that her rapid string of promotions had allowed her to
afford. It was the sort of place that she had dreamed of when she left
college but had never thought that she would get. She would have
given it all up right now to be living with Fran again.
She sighed, stepped out into the stairwell, and locked the door
behind her. She glanced into the shadows, looking for signs of
jagged teeth and blazing, monstrous eyes, which mercifully weren't
there. Then she trudged down the stairs.
In some ways, it was good that Fran wasn't around. It wasn't as if
Josie could tell her what had been happening in her life, what made
her feel like a terrible weight was pressing down upon her heart
every moment of the day. Her employer had commanded her to
secrecy, and she knew that the consequences of disobedience
would be far worse than a pay cut or simply getting fired. Besides,
telling Fran could have put her friend in danger. But at least if they
were still living together, Josie would have had something positive to
come back to at the end of the day. Some conversation to brighten
her mood. The latest cartoons to watch as she let her brain switch
off.
As if she had time for cartoons now. That was part of the
renewed Philgard nightmare, after all, the endless hours. She rubbed
the bags under her eyes, but that wouldn't make them go away, not
while she averaged five hours of sleep a night, even on weekends.
Tea would have to carry her through.
It was only a few minutes' walk from the front of her building to
the entrance of Philgard Technologies' main office. The streets were
relatively quiet, only the most enthusiastic of Mana Valley's many
magitech industry workers heading for work this early. Except at
Philgard, of course, where it had been crunch time every day for the
past month. Employees were already trudging in, pale-faced, bleary-
eyed, and miserable. The contrast couldn't have been more striking
with the days when Josie's friend Julia had been in charge,
transforming the company into a happy, relaxed place, somewhere
job satisfaction counted. Julia was as dead as that job satisfaction.
The old boss was back, and he had a plan.
Josie made her way past the over-zealous security guards and
into an elevator to the top floor. She would have liked to go to her
office first to get settled in, check her schedule, and deal with some
of her seemingly endless flow of emails. But that would have let her
get comfortable, and if Philgard had an honest value statement,
comfort wouldn't have been anywhere near it. After all, comfort
wouldn't add to the CEO's power.
The elevator opened, and Josie stepped out. There was a new
PA again, sitting at the desk outside Howard Phillips' office, glancing
nervously from her screen to Josie to her screen again.
"Are you..." the PA began.
"Yes." Josie strode straight past. There was no point in getting to
know the girl. Phillips had been going through a PA a week on
average since he came back. Nervous temps shifting uncomfortably
in that seat, facing his calculatedly erratic moods and the poor
tempers of those around him, constantly sure that they were doing
something wrong and were about to get fired. If Phillips had been
interested in the good running of the business, it would have been
the worst possible thing to do, but of course, he had another agenda.
Josie closed the door behind her and stood facing Howard Philips
across his desk. He smiled. It wasn't a comfortable smile.
"Good morning, Josie," he said. "How are you today?"
"I'm fine, thank you, Mr. Phillips."
"I've told you before, call me Howard."
"I'm sorry." She forced a smile. She didn't like to obey him, but
she didn't dare defy him. "Howard."
"Did you want to talk about something in particular?"
He'd been playing this game a lot lately, trying to undermine his
staff's self-confidence by making them think that they'd made
mistakes, that they were getting forgetful. The stresses he caused
added to the dark emotions in the building, the ones that gave him
his power. Josie wasn't going to add any more than she had to.
She'd started keeping more notes, keeping better track of
conversations, to avoid it. But then, was her paranoid behavior
powering him too? Was there any way to avoid any of this?
"You invited me here," she said. "You wanted to talk about long-
term strategy."
"Oh, yes. Of course, I did."
Phillips leaned back and steepled his fingers. A slender black
tentacle crept out of the cuff of his shirt, slid along his wrist, and
twined around one finger. A token of the creature underneath the
skin suit, a reminder of who she was dealing with here: the Darkness
Between Dreams, a monster of nightmare power made flesh. She
tried not to shake at the thought of it. As always, she failed.
"My plans are approaching their climax, Josie." He rose to his
feet. "The pieces are in place, the people in their positions. A few
more small touches and we will be ready. Of course, it helps that
things are so terrible on Earth."
"Why?" Josie couldn't help herself. It was like picking a scab,
adding to her pain, but she wanted to know what was happening to
her, to the company she worked for, and soon to the whole of Mana
Valley. "Surely you can't tap into emotions on another world?"
Phillip walked over to the window and stared out across Mana
Valley with a hungry grin.
"Why not?" he asked. "Through a magical portal, someone can
step straight from one world to another. Why not send emotions
through? Why not magical power?"
"Because..." Josie tried to remember the magical theory that
she'd learned at college. Somehow, she couldn't find the bits she
was looking for. Right now, she was more ready to believe in the
power of this monster than in the wisdom of her old teachers.
"Exactly." Phillips laid a hand against the glass. "The barrier
between worlds is huge in some ways, paper-thin in others, as clear
as glass. Of course, I have tools other people don't, like all the
magical technology I have sold into that world over the years.
Remember, everything I have done has built toward this moment.
Nothing will be wasted."
"So you'll draw on the stress dreams of Earth to unleash a
nightmare world on Oriceran?"
"Not the whole of Oriceran. Not to start with, at least. Just this
part. This valley. The place that defied me." Phillips' grin became
ever crueler. "This place will be mine."
Josie wanted to turn away, wanted to run out of the building and
down the street, warning everybody that she could. But the Darkness
had a hold over her. It appeared in her mind every night, and she
couldn't tell whether that was real or a dream. It was definitely a
nightmare, and the things that happened there were a terrible
reminder of what would happen if she resisted.
"What do you want me to do?" she asked.
"To do?"
"You called me here. There must be something you want."
"Maybe it's just to make you squirm."
"You have better things to do than that. Bigger things."
Phillips turned to look at her. "I have almost won, Josie. A little
nudge and this city will go spinning into darkness. Hasn't it occurred
to you that perhaps I want to sit back now and relax?"
The door opened, and Handar Ennis walked in, all swagger and
muscles beneath his loose-cut suit. The Kilomea bared his tusks in a
ferocious grin.
"You're here," he said to Josie. "Good. Some of the paperwork for
my guys' equipment ain't gone through."
"Of course, it hasn't. This place is complete chaos, a building full
of petty feuds and worse insecurities." Josie waved a hand in the air.
"How can you expect anything to run smoothly when you've made it
this way?"
"I don't," Handar said. "And I don't care if the system's broken. I
expect you to fix the problem for me."
"Is this..." Josie turned to Phillips, but she didn't finish her
question before realizing what he would say. Of course, she had to
give Handar what he wanted. He was Phillips' most loyal servant, his
deputy in this grand and terrible magical scheme. What Handar
wanted, Handar got. "Of course. Email me the details, and I'll get on
it."
Unless the email got lost in an increasingly erratic system with
spam filters going nuts and messages turning up days behind. She
could only hope.
"How are things out there?" Phillips asked. "Are my devices still
in place?"
"Most of them," Handar said. "Had to make arrangements to put
a couple back where we left 'em, and there's one I'm tracking down.
But yeah, most people, if they get a fancy gift from Howard Phillips,
they keep it on display."
"Good. I'd hate to have to go through all that philanthropy again.
How is uptake on the latest Manaphone software?"
He directed that question at Josie. Of course she knew. It was
her job to know, even if he hadn't warned her that the question was
coming.
"Most people have accepted the upgrade," she said. "There's
some negative feedback, as you'd expected, but we haven't put in
the really awkward stuff yet."
"Good. I need acceptance of this version. I need the network it
gives me, the spell wrapped around the Valley, my technology as the
centerpiece of people's lives. Once the great spell is cast, I'll want to
start a stream of regular updates to make things more uncomfortable
at each step."
"I know. I have them planned." Even when her job was terrible
and absurd, Josie did it as well as she could. She clung to her
competence like a woman clinging to a life raft in a flood, praying for
it to keep her afloat.
"Excellent. What would I do without you?" Phillips bared his teeth.
"What would I do if you ever turned against me?"
From the corner of her eye, Josie noticed Handar's hand sliding
inside his jacket to rest on the butt of a pistol. That was one answer
to the question and a terrible one to contemplate. But there was
worse. That tentacle slipped out of Phillips' sleeve again and
twitched in the air, summoning something in the shadows at the
corner of the room. Something growled there with jagged teeth
bared, and red eyes glowed.
"Is there anything else, Mr. Phillips?" She fought to keep her
voice steady.
"Howard."
"Sorry. My mistake again. Howard, is there anything else?"
Phillips tilted his head and contemplated her for a moment. The
tentacle swished back and forth.
"No, I don't think so."
"Then I should get down to my office. There's a lot going on
today."
"There's always a lot going on, Josie. We're a very busy
company."
"Yes, we are. Howard."
Handar watched her as she walked out. Not leering, not
menacing, but suspicious. For that, at least, she couldn't blame him.
She'd been part of the coup that had trapped him before, so he
would be watching her for trouble. If she got half a chance, she
would give that trouble to him. Right now, though, the prospect
looked very slim indeed.
She walked past the overstretched PA, who was already trying to
handle two calls at once while dealing with an overflowing inbox. Not
long ago, she would have offered some help or advice, but what was
the point? The PA would be gone in a week and better off for it. If
only Josie had that option.
She stepped into the elevator. The light in there flickered on and
off. She sighed and pressed the button for her floor. With a grinding
of poorly maintained machinery, the doors closed and the elevator
started to move.
It was going to be a terrible day. The worst part was, so were all
the others.
 CHAPTER THREE

"You look nice," Fran said as Cam walked up the stairs into the living
room of their tree house home.
"Thanks." Cam smiled and pushed his glasses up his nose. "I
had to dress up for an interview earlier, so I figured I might as well
keep the suit on. Just don't start expecting this every date night."
"That's fine with me. You look great in t-shirts too." She walked
over from the sofa and kissed him. "In fact, you look good in
anything."
"Very kind of you to say so, but aren't you a little biased?"
"No, I just have excellent taste."
Fran looked down at her outfit, a classic combo of unicorn
sneakers, embroidered jeans, and a sequined jacket. She might not
have dressed as smartly, but these were some of her favorite
clothes, which would certainly be good enough.
They headed down the stairs, spiraling around the inside of the
tree. A crow followed them, croaking as it went. Fran held out a
hand, and the crow landed on her wrist.
"No coming with us tonight," Fran said sternly. "I don't want
someone coming for date night who might be a spy for my dad."
The crow croaked indignantly.
"Well, if you want me to trust you, then you shouldn't keep telling
him what I'm up to. Now shoo. Tonight is for Cam and me."
She opened the door at the bottom of the tree, and the crow
fluttered away. Cam and Fran stepped out into the street.
"What's the plan tonight?" Cam asked. "Space alien restaurant
again?"
"I've found somewhere new," Fran said. "It's cool, fun, and not too
expensive." She blushed. "We'll have to start being more careful until
I get the company back, or finally give in and go full-time rat hunter."
"Tonight, we can go for the fancy fries," Cam said. "On me. We're
celebrating."
"Ooh, celebrating what?" Fran asked.
"I'll tell you over dinner."
 They walked down the street hand-in-hand. Fran told Cam about
catching the furry pixies at the factory and the brainstorming session
in a coffee shop after, coming up with ideas to get the company
back. She and the team still didn't have a working plan.
"I'm sure we would have come up with something if you were
there serving our coffee," she said. "Next time, we'll make an effort to
come to the Blazing Bean."
"Fran, there are a thousand coffee shops in this town. Some of
the others are going to be good too."
"Not the point. Our loyalty is to you and your cappuccinos."
"Very kind, but not necessary. Now, do we need a bus or a cab to
get to the restaurant?"
"Neither." They rounded the corner and Fran pointed across the
street. What had been an abandoned warehouse only two months
before was now a row of shops, with stairways in between leading to
a brightly lit upper floor. "Urban regeneration strikes again."
"Very cool." Cam followed her across the street. "I knew that
being in this neighborhood would pay off."
They walked up one of the staircases and into something like a
town square, with fronts of bars and restaurants all around. It was
amazing how quickly a place like this could come together when the
developers had magic on their side.
"This all looks great," Cam said. "Which one are we going to?"
"Guess."
He looked around. There was a jaunty-looking tapas bar, a classy
restaurant with waiters in black tie, a health food diner advertising its
spiced quinoa burger, and...
"It's got to be that one." He pointed at the restaurant with a pair of
crossed golf clubs above a sculpture of a dragon's head and an
animatronic mud monster groaning and lurching outside.
"How did you know?"
"Because it's the silliest, shiniest, most novel place here, and if
that's not perfect for one of our date nights, I don't know what is.
A sign in the hands of the mud monster said, "First week special:
half price dinner game for all new customers."
"Dinner game?" Cam asked.
 "It's a cross between a diner and a crazy golf course. You get
served a different part of your dinner after each hole."
Cam laughed. "What did I tell you? Novelty!"
"That hasn’t put you off, right?"
"I never thought of myself as a golfer, but if novelty put me off, I
doubt we'd be together."
"You think I'm a novelty?" Fran kissed him on the cheek. "That
might be the sweetest thing anyone's ever said."
They went in, and a dwarf waiter took their jackets.
"Are either of you vegetarian?" he asked. "Or do you have special
dietary requirements?"
"No, we'll eat anything," Fran said.
"Almost anything," Cam corrected. "If mud monster's on the
menu, I might say no."
The waiter laughed. "Don't worry. The monsters are for
entertainment, not dinner." He handed them each a golf ball and a
putting club. "Bon appetit."
The first hole was on a plain felted putting green, with models of
trolls staring out from the surrounding jungle plants. Fran set her ball
down and hit it toward the hole. Almost immediately, a network of
magical fields appeared across the green. It bounced from one to
another, ending up halfway down. The minute it stopped moving, the
fields became invisible again.
"Hope you've got a good memory," she said, "because now
you've got to try to get past those."
Cam hit his ball, and it got a little further, only to bounce back off
a field they hadn't seen before.
"This is going to be tricky," he said.
Fortunately, they both enjoyed a good puzzle. By the third hit
each, they'd worked out where most of the fields were, and Cam got
his ball into the hole on his fifth hit, Fran on her sixth. As each ball
went in, a choice of drinks appeared out of thin air on a shelf made
to look like one of the jungle plants. Cam took a beer and Fran chose
a green cocktail, then the shelf disappeared.
"On to the next hole?" Cam sipped his drink.
 "Ooh yes!" Fran said. "One of the holes makes the balls levitate. I
really want to see that."
With the variety of holes to distract, it took Fran a while to get
over the novelty and think about anything else. They were picking
from a bowl of olives at the end of the third hole before she
remembered an important question.
"You said we're celebrating. What's the occasion?"
"I got offered a job, a proper academic one this time."
"That's so cool! The one you interviewed for today?"
"No, although I think they might offer me that. This one is even
better." Cam tossed an olive into the air and caught it in his mouth to
applause from Fran.
"Hole in one," she said. "So, this job, better how?"
"They're setting up a new research group at Mana Valley
University. It's a cross-departmental group looking at the history of
magical practices and how the modern world can learn from them.
It’s mostly staff from the history department and the faculty of magic,
but a few social scientists too, maybe even a technologist. They
want to make sure they have at least one person on the team who
isn't a magical, and that would be me."
"That's fantastic! At least, I think it sounds fantastic. I don't know
much about research groups."
"This would be groundbreaking, both in its structure and the
topics covered. I'd get to continue my historical research while
providing direct application to the modern world, which is rare and
could be great for future funding. My family might even get over me
being the dud of the Kowal clan if I'm working with prestigious
magicals, and there are some big names attached to this project."
"Yay!" Fran gave him a huge hug. "I'm sure I won't understand
half of what you're doing, but I'm incredibly proud of you."
"Welcome to my world. That's how I feel about your work."
Fran sagged.
"I'm not sure even I'm proud of me right now. I mean, look at how
I'm spending my days. One minute the star of Mana Valley, the next
playing at pest control in a teddy bear factory. It's hardly a meteoric
career arc."
 "You built a company from nothing, invented amazing new
devices, and kept on helping the Evermores along the way. Things
might have been down for a few weeks, but in the long view, it's all
amazing. I bet you're still doing plenty with your time."
"I'm certainly keeping busy." Fran set the remaining olives aside,
and they headed for the next hole. "Pixie hunting today, combat
training with dad yesterday, tomorrow Enfield and I are heading into
the hills to let the Source go."
"Finally doing it, huh?"
Cam set his ball down on the tee for the next hole. For this one,
they had to get the ball safely through the jaws of a series of
snapping clockwork crocodiles without it getting swallowed. There
was a promise of fries at the far end.
"We wanted to let the Source go weeks ago," Fran said. "Ever
since Winslow stormed off. We were worried that a sudden release
of magical power down the mine tunnels might hurt people or even
shake down part of the mountain. And we couldn't move the
containment unit without getting a big, stable magical battery
attached to contain its power and keep in the buzz bugs until we're
out in the open. I feel so bad, keeping the Source trapped in there,
but we're finally going to let him go."
"One more reason to be proud of you." Cam hit his ball. The first
crocodile swallowed it, and it reappeared in a puff of magic by Cam's
feet. "Your turn."
Fran set her ball down and knocked it past the first two crocodiles
before losing it to the third.
"So you've been working hard with the Evermores." Cam set his
ball on the tee again. "Training with Woodrow. Hunting pests for a
living. And scheming to take your business back. Sounds like you're
working as hard as ever."
"I am. I just wish I could see the results."
"You will. These things take time."
"It’s so hard to fit them all in and not to lose track of one while
you're doing the others, and—ooh, I got it through!" Fran jumped in
excitement as her ball disappeared down the hole. At the end of the
green, a bowl of fries emerged from another crocodile's mouth.
"Hurry up. I want to get to the burger course."
"You said that you're practicing your Evermore powers and the
ones from your father separately, right?" Cam asked, lining up his
shot.
"That's right."
"Have you ever tried combining them?" He hit the ball past the
crocodiles, and it stopped a few inches from the hole.
"So close, but look out!" Fran pointed to a smaller clockwork
crocodile slowly crawling toward the ball. "No, I've not combined my
powers. I use them both when fighting, but one at a time, not
together."
Cam rushed over, lowered his club, and knocked the ball into the
hole before the crocodile reached it. A bowl of sweet potato fries
emerged from one of the other mechanical mouths. He picked it up,
and they walked toward the next part of the course.
"Maybe you should try combining them," he said. "As far as we
know, no one's ever had both power sets before you, right?"
"Right. The Evermores are, like, super protective of their secrets
and abilities. Or at least they used to be."
"Right. So, no one knows what you're capable of. This could be
your chance to do totally new things, to dazzle the world in yet
another way. And it'll give you something creative to do until you get
the company back and can start work on your products again."
"Maybe I should try that. It could even be useful for the company
once we get control again." She grinned. "Imagine the look at
Winslow's face when he hears that I've been messing with his
precious Evermore magic."
"See, it's a win in so many ways."
Fran set her ball down on the next tee. This time, the green was
home to a family of sloths, their fur mutated by magic so that it
shifted from one color to another as they made their slow way across
the floor. Someone had dressed their legs and bellies in spider silk
body armor so they wouldn't be hurt when balls hit them.
"Looks like we have to get the ball past these guys," she said.
 "Maybe." Cam held out his ball to the nearest sloth. "Excuse me,
would you mind putting this in the hole?"
The sloth stretched out a paw. As it took the ball, it triggered an
invigorating spell. The sloth trotted swiftly down the green, around its
companions, and dropped the ball in the hole. Then it slowed back to
a crawl.
"See?" Cam said. "Sometimes it's worth thinking outside the
box." Beyond the sloth, a hole opened in the wall, and a plate
levitated out, carrying a big stacked burger. "Come on then. Give
your ball to a sloth, and we can eat."
"I like the challenge of getting past them." Fran drew her club
back, ready to tee off. "Sometimes it's worth taking your time."
 CHAPTER FOUR

The next morning, Fran set out early from Mana Valley, heading into
the foothills of the mountains beyond. She left her roller skates
behind since they were useless for a walk in the wilds and instead
used her swift striding power to carry her quickly into the hills. With
some magical steps, she advanced as far as most people would
walk in an hour, using clear stretches of the trail to make quick
progress. In other places, it was slower since she couldn't see far
enough ahead to move that fast safely, and those stretches gave the
crows following her time to catch up. Still, by the time she reached
the ridge overlooking the mine where the Evermores were living, the
crows were distant black spots, frantically trying to catch up.
"Are you deliberately trying to shake off your friends?" a voice
asked from under the trees.
Fran looked around. As she'd expected, Woodrow was standing
there, leaning against one of the larger pines. He was whittling,
turning a lump of knotted wood into a model of a wolf.
"Your friends," Fran said. "And your spies."
"They'll do your bidding, too," Woodrow said. "Have done so
many a time. If you want them to favor you over me, you just have to
find the right way of asking."
Fran drew a deep breath. "I appreciate all your support. And I
look forward to our next sparring session, but I don't have the energy
for your games today. Nothing personal, Dad. I have other priorities."
"I appreciate the directness." He flicked away a shaving of wood
and raised an eyebrow. "Does that mean today's the day?"
"Yes. Please don't interfere. In fact, given you helped recapture
him the last time, you should probably make yourself scarce. I want
this to go as smoothly as possible."
"As you wish. Knowing that you're doing this is enough."
"You care that much about the Source's freedom?" She tipped
her head and looked at him, trying to judge his mood. Having not
known him most of her life, she found her father hard to read.
 "Ha! No." Woodrow shook his head. "I simply relish anything that
annoys Winslow. His pomposity is among the grandest prey, to see it
brought down a true triumph."
"So it's about feuds? Thanks for reminding me of your petty side."
"It is not petty. It is our nature. To compete, to battle, to want to
see our opponents brought low." He slid his knife into its sheath,
then closed the twenty-yard gap between them in a single magical
stride. He patted her on her cheek. "Don't deny who you are,
Francesca. There is power in accepting your truth."
"I'll remember that. Right now, who I am is the person who's
going to set someone free. I'll see you another day."
"I'm sure you will."
He took another swift stride and vanished into the trees.
Fran walked down the scree slope and across the rubble to the
mine entrance. Several Evermores were waiting there, Taldiss
among them.
"Enfield's ready and waiting," Taldiss said. "We all are."
"Thank you for waiting."
Taldiss laughed and shook her head. "Like we could have done
this without you."
They walked down the tunnels to a chamber filled with magical
light. On one side sat the magic generator that Fran and her team
had helped build. On the other was the containment unit they'd also
built, which held the Source, the magical whose energy had once
powered all the magic on Earth. He stood expectant in his magical
trap, a glowing figure who, despite his featureless face, was clearly
staring at her. In the middle of the room stood Enfield, leaning on his
walking stick.
"Are you ready?" Enfield asked, and his tension was as clear in
the question as in the rigidity of his body. No time today for
pleasantries. The work ahead of them was too important, too
uncertain in its results. Of course, it was too clearly the right thing for
them not to do it.
"I'm ready," Fran said.
Enfield knelt, almost hiding the wince as he bent his damaged
leg. At his feet was a sort of junction box covered in magical crystals
and runes. Those components glowed as they strained under the
sheer power flowing through. Cables ran from the containment unit
to the box, then to either the generator or a battery pack in a three-
foot cube with backpack straps attached. He flipped a switch, the
currents shifted, and a light on the side of the battery lit up.
Fran watched the magical field of the containment unit as its
power source shifted from the generator to the battery pack. It had a
battery, of course, but it was over a month since that had been
strong enough to contain the Source's power. She waited a whole
minute. The field held.
"All right," she said. "Detach the generator, and we'll go."
There was a flurry of activity, other Evermores carrying out the
technical tasks that she and Enfield had taught them. It was
important that they play a part in this, that what they did now was
owned by the whole community.
Within a few minutes, Enfield had the battery strapped onto his
back while Fran held the junction box, now unplugged from the
generator. The other Evermores carried the containment unit and the
Source on an improvised palanquin made from wooden poles and a
packing crate.
Enfield led their strange procession up the tunnel and out of the
mine. His stick tapped against the stone each step of the way. As
they emerged into daylight, other figures joined them, the rock
people who shared the mine with the Evermores. The rock people's
faces were as blank as that of the Source. They formed up around
the Evermores, a silent phalanx of sturdy guards.
"Who are they protecting us from, do you think?" Fran asked.
"I don't know," Enfield admitted. "If I were going to ask for
protection from anyone, it would be the other Evermores. It's not like
Winslow to take a defeat lying down."
As agreed days before, they headed up the mountainside. Enfield
led the way. He was the effective leader of the remaining Evermore
expedition force, so it was natural for him to go first. It also meant
they moved at a pace he could keep, despite his struggles to ascend
steep paths with his damaged leg. The others would have helped
him if he'd asked, but they knew not to offer. Pride was a lot of what
held Enfield up now, and that pride was rooted in his ability to do
things for himself.
Even without Enfield's damaged leg, it would have been a long
walk, trekking for hours up the mountainside through increasingly
sparse woods. They crossed a ridge line, then headed downhill
again, into an unoccupied valley that faced away from Mana Valley,
away from anywhere people lived. They stopped, flanked by rocky
ridges, still high above where they'd started. The air frosted with
each breath, and Fran buttoned her jacket tight.
By now, the power indicator on the side of Enfield's battery pack
was running low, only two LEDs out of ten still glowing. The junction
box practically glowed with heat in Fran's hands, and though that
helped counter the cold, she worried about what it meant. She didn't
want it melting down from all the power running through it. The field
of the containment unit had started to flicker, and the Source pressed
against it, trying to force his way out.
"Don't worry," Fran said. "We won't keep you any longer. I'm sorry
it's been this long."
The Evermores had set the containment unit down next to a
stream, and the glow from the Source made the foam of the bubbling
waters shine. The Source stared at Fran expectantly.
"We really are sorry," Enfield said. "You saved my life once in the
mountains, and to have taken this long to let you go, that's a poor
repayment."
The Source nodded, then spread his hands.
"You're right." Time with the crows had trained Fran in judging
gestures when words couldn't carry the message. "We're delaying
again. I guess we're scared about how this will go, about what the
future holds without you, about what you might do when we let you
out. But however bad it is, it's nothing we don't deserve. So..."
She took a step back. Together with Enfield, she crouched next to
the junction box.
"Ready?" she asked.
"Ready," he replied. "Everyone?"
Some of the Evermores drew weapons. Others raised their
hands, ready to protect themselves with magic if they had to. Then
Taldiss dropped her staff.
"No," she said. "If he's mad, we've earned it. If it's coming, I'm
going to take my punishment."
The others lowered their hands and dropped their weapons,
standing exposed. Around them, the rock people watched, silent and
unmoving.
Fran drew a deep breath. "Let's do it."
Enfield flipped a switch on the junction box, cutting off the power
flow. A second later, Fran shot a concentrated burst of sound from
her finger. The waves hit a switch on the base of the containment
unit. The field fell.
There was a dazzling flash of light, and a sound like the earth
was roaring. A wave of heat and pressure hit Fran, flinging her onto
her back. There were crashes and thuds, and spots danced in her
vision.
She pushed herself onto her elbows and looked around, blinking
away the spots. The wave had knocked over half of the trees in the
valley and every one of the Evermores. The rock people stood, but
many had a leg back, bracing themselves. It had shaken the stream
out of its course so it now ran under the trees. The containment unit
was a glowing ruin, and the Source hovered over it, twice as large as
he had been, blazing with unfathomable power. He raised his hands
to the sky and let out a long, beautiful note that shook the rocks and
snow of the mountain peak, sending an avalanche down another
valley.
Fran stared in awe. She had always known that the Source was
powerful, but this was something more.
The Source settled on the ground, then walked toward where
Fran and Enfield lay. The ground melted and steamed beneath the
Source's feet. She swallowed and shook with fear. If the Source
wanted to destroy them, he had all the power he’d saved up while
imprisoned. While she had helped persuade the Evermores to let
him go, she'd also been instrumental in containing him. Winslow had
always argued that the Source was a being of pure energy and
instinct. What if his instinct now was for revenge?
 The Source reached out a blazing arm toward Enfield, then took
his hand and helped him to his feet. Then he did the same for Fran.
"Thank you," she said, her voice trembling and small, still unable
to fully comprehend the full power she faced. Magic was coming off
the Source in waves, more magic than she had ever known.
The Source bowed his head for a moment. He was shrinking,
returning to something like human size. She had half-expected him
to return to the wild shapes of their first encounters, but he seemed
to like this form. Had something about spending time with them
shaped him?
Slowly, the Source turned, looking around. He raised a hand and
let the wind blow through his fingers. A crow circled overhead,
watching. The valley was silent, except for the babbling of the
stream. Then a tree gave way with a creak and a crash, and the
moment passed.
The Source turned his back on Fran and walked across the
valley. He crossed the stream and went into the trees, away from the
Evermores and Mana Valley.
To Fran's surprise, the rock people joined him. Each of them
turned as the Source passed, then followed, forming a column of
moving stone behind the figure of shining light.
"Are they friends with him?" Fran asked. "I didn't realize."
"I don't know," Enfield said. "I didn't know that there was anything
between them, but then, they don't work as we do. Maybe it's
friendship, maybe curiosity, maybe a whim. Heck, for all I know it's
religion, and they think that thing's their messiah."
"What do you think the Source will do now?"
"You think I've got a clue about that either?" Enfield laughed, a
sound full of relief. Relief at the responsibility taken off his shoulders,
at a great task done. Relief to still be alive. "It's millennia since he
was truly free, not trapped or hunted. What would you do?"
"See how the world's changed, I guess."
"This isn't even his world, remember? He comes from Earth."
"See a whole new world then." Fran smiled. "I hope he enjoys it.
After everything he'd been through, he deserves a few thousand
years of happiness, and who doesn't enjoy seeing new things?"
 "Winslow, that's who doesn't." Enfield frowned as he considered
what still lay ahead. The relief was gone, his shoulders tensed, neck
stiff. He rubbed his injured leg. "And that's who we've got to deal with
next."
"Not yet," Fran said. "Give it a few days for us to recover and
check if the Source does something bad. Then it's time for our next
world-changing mission."
"Great, but once that's done, can I have a few thousand years of
happiness? I feel like I've earned them too."
 CHAPTER FIVE

Even with swift strides, it was a long journey home from the
mountains. Fran couldn't just start striding straight away. She needed
time to process what she'd seen, to discuss it with Enfield and the
others, to wonder where the Source was going and what he would
do next. By the time she emerged from the forested foothills and
looked out across Mana Valley, the city had become a collection of
bright points against the dark of evening. Each building was a
collection of shining lights, with the headlamps of traffic streaming
between them.
She had to stride more carefully for that last stretch, unable to
see her footing far ahead in the darkness. She almost walked into
trees or rocks several times, but she was getting more confident, and
with that confidence came better strides. These powers were hers to
master.
Once she reached the city's edge, swift striding became easier in
some ways, more difficult in others. Everywhere was brightly lit, so
she could see where she was going, but there were far more people
around, magicals heading home from their jobs or out for a night on
the town. A lot of bustle and movement made it harder to judge
where she could safely go. This was Mana Valley, no one would bat
an eyelid at someone moving with superhuman speed, but if that
speed meant that she bumped into someone, she could be sure they
would respond and not politely.
It turned into a game, seeing how far she could go without
causing a collision, working out how close she could stride without
knocking into anyone. It was like trying to get a new high score on a
video game, except the score was measured in yards moved and
inches of space moved into. Turning it into something fun lightened
her spirits after a draining day, and by the time she reached her front
door, she was smiling brightly.
"Hi honey, I'm home!" she announced as she ran up the tree
house stairs two at a time, winding around the inside of the
enormous trunk.
 "Hi there!" Cam waved at her from the top of the stairs, where the
kitchen and living room space was. "That's great timing. Dinner's
almost ready."
Fran sprang up the last few stairs and into his arms. "Hugs first,
dinner later," she declared.
"Always." Cam squeezed her tight. "How was your day?"
"Impressive. Intimidating. Something else starting with 'I' that I
can't think of right now, but that would make a neat little cluster of
words."
Cam laughed. "Very poetic, and I'm relieved to see you're still in
one piece mentally and physically, but seriously, how did it go? How
did the Source act?"
Fran sat at the dining table and explained what had happened in
the hills while Cam fetched a stew and a big pot of rice from the
stove. By the time she finished talking, he'd laid out everything they
needed for dinner, the food was starting to cool, and she was the
only one who'd been talking the whole time.
"Sorry," Fran said. "That was a lot, wasn't it? I feel like I'm
dominating the conversation."
"That's okay. It's good to get these things off your chest, and if
you can't vent at me, who will you vent at?"
"Winslow, next time I see him. This whole thing is his fault."
"I'm sure Winslow will listen in perfect, attentive silence while you
express everything you need to."
Fran laughed.
"Okay, when you put it like that, maybe it's better that I talk to
you." She took the lid off the stew pot, and a waft of delicious steam
emerged. Her mouth watered. "Ooh, what is this?"
"Light Elf-style spiced chicken stew with vegetables and
dumplings. I thought you'd want some solid comfort food."
"I love dumplings!" Fran grabbed a spoon and started fishing
around in the stew, trying to get a dumpling out.
"Why don't you just get yourself a whole serving? I'll start dishing
out the rice."
"What have you been up to while I've been out unleashing
ancient magical powers?"
 "Accepting that job offer, doing a shift at the Blazing Bean, and
handing in my notice there."
"Wow." Fran handed him the stew spoon. "This is getting real,
huh?"
"It is. Four more weeks, and the only people I'll be serving
coffees to are you and me."
"That's very rude. What about when we have guests around?"
"Okay, I'll whip out my caffeinating powers for them too, but only
at home."
"What if we're staying away somewhere with a coffee machine?"
"Then too, I guess."
"Or if we go to a coffee shop, and the staff are all busy, but they
say that—"
"Okay, okay, enough hypotheticals! I've learned my lesson. No
more sweeping statements or exaggerations, but coming from you,
that lesson seems a little hypocritical."
"What can I say? I love having standards. I love them so much
that I live by two or three at once. Double standards, double fun."
Cam laughed and ate some more of his stew.
With her pent-up feelings vented and her stomach no longer
rumbling with hunger, Fran was finally able to sit back and relax. She
looked around the room. Over by the sofas, paperwork and books
littered the coffee table.
"Getting an early start on your academic research?" She pointed
that way with her fork.
"Getting back into those prophecies we were looking at. Life's
been so hectic lately that I hadn't thought about them. I feel kind of
guilty. They seemed so important when I was studying them before,
and I still think there are things of huge significance in there, but I've
let my life get in the way of the big picture."
Fran reached out to take his hand. "Looking after your own life is
important. If you don't do that, you won't be in a state to decipher
prophecies or analyze their meaning or work out what terrible threats
are coming. That stuff might feel bigger, but the immediate details
matter too."
"Thanks. I needed to hear someone say that out loud."
 "I am very good at saying things out loud. Sometimes, I do it
when no one else is there, just have a little conversation with myself.
It's good for the brain."
"Or a symptom of madness."
"Madness, genius, it's all the same thing, right?"
"In your case, maybe."
They chatted about other things while they finished their dinner,
from gossip among the staff at the Blazing Bean to events in the
news. The city council was arguing about tax brackets to fund street
repairs. Smokey, as the outsider on the council, had managed to turn
it into a broader debate on how they ran the city. Fran felt proud of
her friend and the small part they'd all played in getting him to where
he was.
Having cleared away the plates and made coffee, Fran and Cam
headed over to the sofa and the pile of papers.
"Have you found anything new?" Fran leaned forward to peer at
Cam's notes.
"A lot of repetitions of what we found before, basically revision to
get me back into it. Talk about portals and darkness and something
destructive coming."
"There is a lot of darkness..."
Fran sipped her coffee and leafed through the assembled
documents. Some were originals, but most were copies of older
manuscripts or book pages. Many of them were printouts of photos,
hurriedly taken when they broke into Handar Ennis's apartment. So
much had happened lately that felt like a lifetime ago.
"I think what we need right now is to work out more about what
this darkness is and when it's coming," Cam said. "That way we can
give people a warning, and they can prepare while we look for clues
about how to solve it."
"Assuming people even listen." Fran shook her head. "I think a lot
of people won't want to hear it when an ex-barista and a disgraced
CEO tell them that the sky's about to fall."
"We'll find a way."
"Like Smokey, maybe. He's still on the city council, and he's got
his campaigning group. They could spread the word, maybe get
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sessualità che si sprigiona da tutto il suo essere, investendo
impetuosamente la donna che gli sta vicina. Un flutto bruciante di
parole, l’invito inconscio e fatale alla dedizione, sale fino alle sue
labbra e si disperde senza suono, vaporando, nel vuoto. Egli la
stringe più forte a sè; le accarezza le guance, il collo, le vesti; la
bacia ancora; le soffia in viso il suo desiderio ineffabile, non sapendo
più che fare, non sapendo più che dire, esultando di piacere e
spasimando d’un’ansietà senza nome....
— No, Aurelio, lasciami! Mi fai male!... — ella dice d’un tratto; e si
scioglie dall’abbraccio con un respiro profondo.
Accesa, anelante, con gli occhi semichiusi, ella sembra risvegliarsi
da un letargo malefico: si guarda d’intorno con un’espressione
angosciosa di smarrimento; si passa le palme su le tempia, su i
capelli omai disciolti e sparsi; si piega convulsamente su le reni,
quasi curvata in dietro dalle gravità delle folte trecce cadenti.
Poi prende una mano di lui, e se la porta sul seno.
— Senti il mio povero cuore!... Quasi si spezzava nella stretta...
Credevo di morire... Oh, dimmi, Aurelio, se fossi morta tra le tue
braccia?
— Anch’io sarei morto tra le tue, — risponde il giovine, con un
pallido sorriso. — Saremmo morti insieme, avvinti, immemori,
felici....
— Felici!... Forse era meglio, non è vero?
— No, — egli esclama con forza, ergendosi di tutta la persona,
mentre il suo volto si rischiara come alla visione prossima d’una
gioja anche più grande.
Ella sùbito ha inteso; ella sùbito approva con il capo, ripetutamente,
senza poter parlare. Ambedue, senza poter parlare, si comunicano
ora con gli occhi lo stesso pensiero inebriante: «È vero! Non bisogna
morire! Guai, guai se fossimo morti! Bisogna vivere, vivere molto per
amarci, per provare ogni gaudio, per conoscere ogni segreto, per
vedere tutte le forme, udire tutte le armonie, aspirare tutti i profumi.
La vita è bella, maravigliosamente bella; e noi abbiamo le mani
colme de’ suoi doni più preziosi: la giovinezza, la libertà, l’amore. Di
che temiamo? Tutto il male che abbiamo sofferto non era in noi, era
fuori di noi; non traeva origine dalla nostra sostanza, ma ne veniva
dalle cose estranee che ci toccavano. Conviene adunque che
ciascuno di noi faccia scudo all’altro della propria persona; conviene
che ci chiudiamo nella nostra realità, come in una rocca
impenetrabile, non accettando dall’esterno che quelle sole
comunioni le quali possan rendere più gradevole la nostra gelosa
dimora. Abbiamo con noi il favore della Fortuna; e la Felicità ci parla
dai nostri occhi, dove si riflettono e si moltiplicano senza fine le
stesse nostre imagini. L’Universo è in noi, poichè noi siamo un
universo. Viviamo per intensamente amarci, per sfruttare ramo per
ramo l’albero fecondo della nostra giovinezza, per provare ogni
gaudio e conoscere ogni segreto.»
Rimangono così lungamente taciti, tenendosi per mano,
guardandosi, sorridendosi.
E la luna, come in un sogno, li avvolge nel suo pallido incantesimo.
— Vieni, — ella mormora in fine con una voce morbida e insinuante,
in cui trepidano tutte le promesse. — Andiamo alla mia casa, nel mio
nido... Bisogna rivederlo questa notte... È là ch’è nato veramente il
nostro amore... Vieni!
E s’avvia prima, la faccia mezzo rivolta in dietro verso di lui,
traendolo per la mano.
Attraversano il breve prato senza sollevare il minimo strepito, più
leggeri delle loro ombre; s’affacciano al luogo memore e s’arrestano
ancora su la soglia, trattenuti da un nuovo stupore, come da un
sentimento religioso, da un timore oscuro di profanazione.
Nell’ombra densa della notte, che il riflesso del colle a pena
addolcisce, il piccolo spiazzo tondo pare un tabernacolo misterioso,
creato per qualche antico culto silvano nel cuore di un bosco sacro.
In torno gli abeti venerabili si piegano discretamente in arco,
riparandolo da ogni lato, non lasciandovi penetrare un sol raggio di
luna. E un languore d’alcova, un silenzio di solitudine non mai
turbata, un profumo complesso d’essenze selvagge native, stagnano
nell’immobilità dell’aria, che non un fremito muove. Tutto è chiuso,
raccolto, nascosto in quella nicchia vegetale. Perfino il brano
d’aperto cielo, che si stende su le vette degli alberi, dà l’illusione
d’una cupola, dipinta in tempi assai remoti, su cui le figure siano a
poco a poco svanite, lasciando solo nel fondo azzurro l’oro delle
stelle, onde le loro vesti splendevano.
— Entriamo. Che si aspetta? — ella dice, esultante ma con la voce
sommessa di chi sta per varcare la soglia d’un tempio.
— Entriamo.
Ella s’avanza cautamente, d’avanti a lui.
— Oh, Dio, guarda! — esclama d’un tratto, accennando verso il
suolo. — Giuseppe stasera s’è dimenticato di portar giù le sedie, i
miei scialli, i miei arnesi. Guarda!
Entrambi sorridono alla scoperta; entrambi si stringono la mano con
la medesima intenzione. A entrambi la presenza di quegli oggetti in
tal momento pare un segno straordinariamente favorevole alla loro
felicità; pare la conferma sicura che ogni loro desiderio abbia a
essere in ugual modo esaudito.
— Si direbbe ch’egli abbia preveduto la nostra visita — ella
soggiunge. — Tutto è come doveva essere. Tutto è come tu ricordi.
E, staccandosi da lui, s’avvicina con aria di malizia infantile a uno
degli sgabelli, vi siede e, a testa china, un po’ abbandonata su sè
stessa, finge di riprendere con grande alacrità il suo paziente lavoro
di ricamo.
— Eccomi al posto. Ora io t’aspetto.
— Anima! — mormora l’amante affascinato da quel giuoco, con un
brivido di gioja orgogliosa, mentre tutte le memorie dell’incerto
passato si accumulano nell’anima sua e si disperdono a brani,
nebbie dissolte dal sole.
Barcollante in guisa d’un ebro, egli s’accosta all’incantatrice; si gitta
alle sue ginocchia, le mette supino la testa nel grembo e, con un
gesto tremulo d’invocazione le tende in dietro le mani aperte per un
invito d’amplesso delirante.
Non è che un attimo.
Ella si solleva ritta sul busto e rimane seria e immobile a osservarlo
dall’alto con un’espressione dura e quasi ostile di penetrazione. Su
la sua fronte, dove i capelli più brevi insorgono come i raggi d’un
barbaro diadema, un pensiero cupo e profondo si disegna nella
profondità delle rughe. Pare che la sua fisonomia si complichi,
s’oscuri fino a divenire enimmatica....
Poi d’un tratto il suo capo si scuote vivamente ed ella, come vinta da
un languore repentino, piega sopra di lui e gli si concede sospirosa
tra le braccia.
— Flavia, — egli implora sommessamente, non potendo dal basso
vederla, non potendo sentirla bene contro il suo cuore, non
riuscendo a incontrare con la sua bocca le labbra desiderate —
Vieni, vieni qui più vicina.
— Dove vuoi, — mormora ella come in sogno.
E, attratta con dolce violenza dalle mani del giovine, scivola senza
resistere giù dalla sediuola per cadergli mollemente al fianco su
l’ampio scialle disteso al suolo a mo’ di tappeto.
L’oscurità del luogo li assorbe; taciti, confusi in gruppo, invisibili
nell’ombra, essi restano là protetti dalle ali della notte clemente,
mentre nel cielo la luna incomincia a dichinare verso i monti occidui
e su la terra i primi segni antelucani si manifestano di qua e di là,
perduti nell’infinita calma, come timide inascoltate sollecitazioni
all’alba che indugia.
Lo strillo acuto d’un gallo ha già risonato d’improvviso, simile a un
grido guerriero, là su i colli, in lontananza; sùbito dopo, un altro strillo
solitario ha risposto da presso, sotto la chiesa, men forte, meno
libero del primo, rauco e come soffocato in gola dal sonno
bruscamente interrotto. E già a più riprese il brivido del gelo
crepuscolare ha percorso il giardino, turbando la quiete della selva e
del prato, diffondendo intorno un susurro fioco di vita che si ridesta,
preannunziando alle cose tutte il termine delle tenebre e del silenzio.
Ma gli amanti, chiusi e isolati nel cerchio del loro gaudioso mistero,
non sentono, non odono, non vedono più nulla. In vano il soffio della
brezza bisbiglia alle loro orecchie il suo gelido ammonimento; in
vano gli abeti s’agitano in giro con un fragore sordo di minaccia; in
vano trepidano sgomente l’erbe ai loro piedi; in vano su le loro teste
intona una capinera il melodioso inno mattutino. Nulla vale a vincere
la potenza fatale ed esclusiva del Sogno! Essi non sentono se non il
tepore delle loro carni; non odono se non i sospiri delle loro bocche;
non vedono se non la luce delle loro anime, dove l’eterno fuoco brilla
e avvampa, omai inestinguibile. Qualunque comunicazione con
l’esterno è rotta; il mondo delle apparenze è scomparso; il passato è
abolito; l’avvenire non è che un velo opaco e fluttuante su cui l’attimo
fuggevole projetta il bagliore della sua bellezza. Essi son soli,
assolutamente soli, in uno squallore senza confini, fuori del tempo e
dello spazio, fuori della realtà, nel nulla. E vivono, vivono, e son felici
di vivere, ignari di tutto e di tutti, immemori forse anche di sè
medesimi, sconosciuti, umili, abjetti; vivono, paghi di quell’attimo più
che d’una eternità, contenti del palmo di terra, che li raccoglie, più
che d’un immenso magnifico impero.
È l’ora delle delizie e degli oblii, supremi. — Esiste un’umanità?
Esistono altri esseri su la Terra? Non son plaghe ignote e deserte
quelle che si distendono nell’ombra oltre la spira avvolgente delle
loro braccia intrecciate? Non bastan forse le loro due vite ad animare
tutto l’universo? — Certo, entrambi hanno in quel breve lasso di
tempo la ferma convinzione d’una assoluta solitudine intorno a essi,
il sentimento netto e definitivo della loro sufficienza in una assoluta
solitudine. E ciascuno, inconscio e risoluto, prova il bisogno
imperioso d’unirsi all’altra creatura superstite d’un mondo inutile e
distrutto, di sentirla, di mescolarsi perdutamente con essa in un
abbraccio quasi cruento, in una congiunzione così intima da divenire
insieme un solo unico essere.
— Flavia!
— Aurelio!
— Anima mia!
— Mia vita!
— Amore! Amore! Amore!.....
Essi si chiamano a vicenda, continuamente. Essi si allettano piano,
senza voce, soffiando le proprie parole più che non proferendole,
bevendo le parole altrui più che non udendole. E tutte le dolcezze,
tutte le tenerezze, tutte le delicatezze del linguaggio umano
rampollano dai loro labbri, spontanee e vive come le stelle dal cielo
in un vespero sereno; e tutte le eloquenze parlano nelle loro anime,
tutti i gaudi sospirano, pregano tutti i fervori, osannano tutti gli
entusiasmi che nessun linguaggio mai riuscì a esprimere. È l’estro
oscuro della Specie che stimola e infiamma le loro facoltà liriche,
quell’estro medesimo onde sono ispirati i canti maravigliosi degli
uccelli nel tempo sacro alle nozze. È l’eterno Poema della Passione
che si svolge impetuosamente dentro di loro, attingendo i culmini
dell’estasi e dello spasimo. È il turbine della Felicità creatrice, che li
avviluppa, li acceca, li inebria, ne precipita i corpi avvinti in fondo agli
abissi della materia per sollevarne gli spiriti fusi in alto, sempre più in
alto, verso le magiche regioni invocate dal loro desiderio, là dove
non dominano nè orgoglio nè vanità nè convenienza, là dove è sola
realità il Sogno, sola e suprema legge l’Istinto.
— Flavia, ti amo!
— Ti amo, Aurelio! Ti amo!
«Amore! Amore! Amore!» La più che dolcissima parola ritorna a ogni
tratto nel loro bisbiglio continuo, come il motivo dominante
d’un’irrequieta e sublime polifonia; si ripete senza fine, sempre la
stessa e sempre nuova, — sintesi insuperabile d’ogni loro pensiero,
di ogni sentimento, d’ogni sensazione, — sovrano Verbo che tutto
significa, tutto spiega e giustifica.
— Sei felice? — egli domanda, stringendosi più forte a lei, come se
un dubbio improvviso l’avesse turbato.
— Son tua, tua, tua.... — ella risponde con la voce rauca, follemente,
smarritamente.
E gli afferra il capo nelle mani, gli avventa in faccia la sua intenzione
disperata d’ebrezza e d’oblio:
— Son tua, tua tutta quanta, anima e corpo.... non d’altri che tua,
perché io voglio così, intendi? da ora, per sempre... Amo te, amo te
solo, non ho amato che te in vita, lo giuro, lo giuro.... Per
accontentarti, son pronta anche a sacrificarmi, anche a perdermi,
anche a morire.... Fa ciò che vuoi di me, Aurelio.... Prendimi,
soffocami, uccidimi, se ti piace.... Il tuo piacere è tutta la mia felicità!
Un attimo d’esitazione nel giovine; e poi l’effetto d’un impulso
oscuro, selvaggio, irresistibile. Ella si abbandona a lui quasi
senz’anima, supina, inerte, con due lacrime fisse negli angoli degli
occhi come due gemme, trasfigurata.
...... E il tempo vola. Il tempo si precipita nel nulla inavvertito, sopra
la loro letargica voluttà. Quanti istanti ha battuto il palpito dei loro
cuori? Quante ore son passate? Quanti secoli?....
..... D’improvviso ella riapre gli occhi faticosamente, come
destandosi da un sopore mortale, come tornando alla vita da un’altra
vita increata e divina, di cui non serba nella memoria che un
rammarico immenso e confuso. — Mio Dio, che freddo! Che chiaror
livido! Che strani suoni dispersi nell’aria!.... Dove si trova ella mai?
D’onde proviene quell’umido gelo che tutta la intirizzisce? Chi le
opprime il respiro? Chi bisbiglia, chi si muove, chi fugge intorno a
lei?... — Passano alcuni minuti in cui ella lotta in vano contro la
nebbia che le offusca il cervello; in cui cerca inutilmente di
coordinare i suoi pensieri, di rendersi conto delle sensazioni
inesplicabili ond’è sorpresa.... Finalmente con uno sforzo enorme,
solleva un poco il capo e si guarda in giro, smarrita.
È l’alba.
È la fredda livida alba che succede alla benigna notte lunare.
È la realità che succede al Sogno.
È la luce nemica e beffarda che fuga trionfando la coorte delle
Tenebre e sembra disperdere con queste l’incanto breve che esse
hanno tramato. Per sempre? Forse, per sempre!...
— Aurelio! — ella chiama, invasa dall’orrore, con un fioco grido. —
Lévati! È giorno.
— È giorno? — domanda il giovine, aprendo a sua volta gli occhi,
balzando fresco e agile a sedere, mentre un vasto sorriso illumina la
sua faccia a quel risveglio inaspettato.
Una profonda gioja è dentro di lui: nessuna nebbia offusca il suo
cervello; nessuna paura turba il suo spirito. Egli vede, ode, respira
liberamente. E l’aria del mattino lo delizia come un elisire; e il frullo
d’ali, il cinguettìo dei passeri su gli alberi, gli strilli dei galli sparsi per
la campagna gli accarezzano dolcissimamente l’udito come una
musica; e quel cielo pallido pallido, dove qualche raro astro tremula
ancora, quel paesaggio raccolto, vergine, un po’ nebbioso,
affascinano la sua vista e lo rapiscono. Egli esce dall’estasi e rientra
nella vita col sentimento orgoglioso e sereno di chi ritorna in patria
dal paese della Fortuna. — È giorno? È un nuovo giorno che
s’avanza? E benedetto sia questo giorno che lo ridesta alfine tra le
braccia della Felicità!
— Flavia, ti amo — egli esclama, volgendo le pupille piene di luce
verso di lei, prendendole la mano come per esprimerle tutta la
gratitudine che gli fluttua nell’animo.
Ella arrossisce, si turba, si svincola tremante e inquieta dalla sua
stretta. Lo sgomento, onde fu assalita, in vece di diminuire, sembra
che aumenti sotto lo sguardo beato e riconoscente che tutta
l’avvolge.
— Dio mio, che ho fatto! — mormora, coprendosi il viso colle palme,
rabbrividendo forte al ricordo del fallo irreparabile. — Che penserai
tu di me, ora?
— Penso che tu sei la mia donna e che nessuno omai mi ti può
contendere, perchè sei mia, interamente mia.
Ella gli gitta un’occhiata obliqua e paurosa, e s’avvicina un poco a
lui, timida, umile, sottomessa come una schiava.
— Oh, Aurelio, — continua con la voce implorante: — tu non devi
pensar male di me, non devi accusarmi.... Sei tu che l’hai voluto, tu
che m’hai inebriata, tu che m’hai resa folle... Ora tu devi amarmi
molto, soccorrermi, salvarmi, perchè, lo vedi, io son debole e non ho
più che te solo al mondo.... Puoi far di me ciò che tu vuoi... Io sono
una cosa tua, io t’appartengo....
— Tu m’appartieni ed io pure t’appartengo, Flavia, — egli
interrompe, sorridendo, rassicurandola con un gesto calmo e
affettuoso. — Se tu temi, se dubiti di me, sei ingiusta. Quest’ora di
beatitudine che m’hai data, è la prima ora felice della mia vita, ed
anche la prima sincera. Io non potrò dimenticarla mai, intendi? mai,
ed essa mi lega a te più di qualunque giuramento, di qualunque rito,
di qualunque legge.
— Bisogna ch’io discenda, adesso, — ella prorompe d’un tratto,
concitata, scrollando la testa, distogliendo gli occhi da quelli di lui. —
Forse è già troppo tardi!.. Ah, che imprudenza! Che imprudenza!
Fa l’atto di levarsi bruscamente in piedi, ma le forze l’abbandonano
ed ella ricade di peso su la terra.
— Lo vedi? Son morta!... Ajutami, per piacere.
Il giovine di scatto s’è alzato. Sembra che sia più grande, più valido,
più forte che non mai, tanto energico e fiero è il suo portamento.
Offrendole le due mani aperte, egli l’attira a sè e la solleva ritta
senza il minimo sforzo, come una piuma.
— Addio, Aurelio, — ella dice freddamente, sotto voce, senz’osare di
guardarlo, arrossendo di nuovo poi che si trova in piedi d’avanti a lui.
— Non vuoi che t’accompagni?
— No, no! È meglio che tu resti qui, è meglio ch’io discenda sola....
Posso incontrare qualcuno in giardino....
— A più tardi, dunque!
La riprende con dolcezza tra le braccia e soggiunge con un accento
teneramente carezzevole:
— A più tardi, anima, e.... per sempre!
— Oh, sì, per sempre, Aurelio! Per sempre!
È questo l’ultimo fuggevole lampo di passione in lei — il primo dopo
il risveglio.
Ella lo bacia su le labbra con un furore disperato; si scioglie
immediatamente da lui; tenta di ricomporre un poco il disordine dei
capelli e delle vesti; poi, senz’altro, gli volge le spalle ed esce in
corsa dal nascondiglio.
— Ti amo! Ricordami! — le grida dietro il giovine, che il suo
sgomento e la sua confusione sembrano aver reso anche più sereno
e più grato.
Ella non fa cenno d’averlo udito.
Attraversa il prato a brevi passi assai rapidi; giunge all’imbocco
oscuro della pineta e, senza più rivolgersi, s’occulta d’un tratto in
questa, — anzi meglio è dire, per esprimere la sensazione ch’egli
n’ha avuta, vi si sprofonda.
Rimasto solo, Aurelio s’incammina lentamente verso il poggio,
sospinto da un bisogno intenso di spazio e di frescura. Persiste
dentro di lui quel sentimento di placida allegrezza, che l’ha invaso
destandosi dal suo sogno di delizia, riprendendo la coscienza della
vita al fianco d’una donna amata, nei limpidi prestigi mattutini. Pare a
lui in quel momento che tutta la bellezza dell’Universo gli si spieghi
d’avanti agli occhi soltanto per festeggiare la sua presenza. Pare a
lui che la luce della propria persona sia quella che illumini con
palpito crescente le cose circostanti e la vólta del cielo. Un’onda di
poesia gli scorre nel sangue; i polmoni gli si dilatano ai sapidi effluvii
della campagna; le idee gli balzano dalla mente agili e leggere,
ciascuna portando in sommo l’imagine incantatrice; e una rifioritura
di giovinezza gli si schiude nel cuore, come un’aspirazione possente
alla semplicità originaria, ai salubri esercizii corporali, a una vita di
piacere quasi selvaggia, alla grande e spensierata e primitiva libertà
degli infimi o degli eroi.
E la sua anima dice, esultando: «Ah, finalmente: anche la mia festa
è incominciata! Finalmente: anche per me è battuta l’ora divina della
rivelazione! A che soffrire? A che combattere? Perché inseguire
affannosamente una Chimera, che sfugge a ogni presa e, anche
raggiunta, non lascia tra le mani se non un cencio vacuo e inutile?
Amare! Magnificamente amare! Ecco il segreto della gioja di vivere!
Ecco la causa suprema e il supremo scopo d’ogni esistenza creata!»
Egli vuol rivolgersi in dietro ancora una volta verso il Dolore e verso
l’Ideale; ma non riesce più a scorgere nè l’uno nè l’altro. La Donna è
venuta; e con essa il riposo, l’oblio, l’umiltà, l’acquiescenza beata
all’eterna incommutabile legge che regola nell’infinito spazio il
trasmutare della materia organica.
Così egli sale, solitario tra i mobili rossori dell’aurora, la dolce erta
impressa dalle orme di mille passanti, verso un’altura limitata
perduta tra altre innumerevoli alture.
Intorno a lui, i rami degli alberi vacillano a pena a pena,
abbandonando al vento qualche foglia vizza o qualche stilla di
rugiada. Nella calma pallidezza dell’aria un nuvolo di passeri mette
un cinguettìo vivace; i galli, delle fattorie sparse su le colline,
mettono i loro gridi spavaldi; e le pecore dai chiusi, qualche tenero
belato; e le giovenche, qualche profondo cupido mugghio; e un asino
dalla valle, il suo immenso singhiozzo, unico lamento nell’universale
gajezza delle cose.
Egli è giunto al sommo dell’altura e deve sostare, sconosciuto
pellegrino stretto intorno dall’umile giogaja, avendo a tergo, invisibili,
le creste alpestri baciate dal cielo.
D’innanzi è la natività del sole, e in questa s’affissa ebro il suo
sguardo. Da un mare di nebbie quasi sanguigne si libera un gran
disco vermiglio e s’estolle con lento moto fatale verso l’alta purezza
degli spazii.
L’Illuso leva le due braccia trionfalmente e lo saluta, come
l’apportatore d’un giorno senza tramonto.

Cerro Verbano, luglio 1894.

Quinto al Mare, dicembre 1896.

FINE DE LA SIRENA.
 INDICE.

La Sirena.

I. L’apparizione Pag. 1
II. L’incontro 30
III. I fantasmi e le idee 63
IV. L’Albero del Bene e del Male 86
V. Echi del passato 105
VI. Prime nebbie 123
VII. Al bivio 151
VIII. Una festa 183
IX. Il Sogno 205
X. Tra l’Amore e la Morte 251
XI. Solo 303
XII. Il Poema eterno 338

Segue La Chimera.
 OPERE DI E. A. BUTTI.

ROMANZI E NOVELLE:

L’Automa. 4.ª ediz. (Ed. Treves) L. 4 —

L’Anima. 4.º migliaio. (Ed. Galli) 4—
L’Immorale. 3.ª ediz. (Ed. Galli) 3—
L’incantesimo. (Ed. Treves) 4—
La Chimera (di prossima pubblicazione).
Un apostata (in preparazione).
L’Eroe del domani (in preparazione).

TEATRO:

Il Vortice. (Ed. Galli) 1 50

L’Utopia. (Ed. Galli) 2—
Gli atei (in preparazione).

VERSI:

Le dolorose (in preparazione).

CRITICA:

Né odii né amori. (Ed. Bocca) 3 50

 Nota del Trascrittore

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