Category: and Subway Cars.

Posted on

The Great Faramouche and the Card Trick

The Great Faramouche and the Card Trick

By Matthew Viriyapah

Kris received a few letters this morning from friends from the Bernhold Academy of Magic. It’s been two weeks now into their respective apprenticeships, and everyone was sharing how things were going. One was helping analyze magic in deep-sea rock, while at the bottom of the ocean. Another wrote back on slightly singed paper, that she was experimenting with a new type of magic her master was developing. All of these letters describing fantastical magic kept Kris quite literally spellbound when he read them. But Kris would not dare write back. Two weeks in, how could he possibly say he was just on some mundane street corner in Buffalo, New York?

It was a chilly midday on the corner of Main and 23rd street. A fat man yawned. A foot taller than Kris, he was holding a grocery bag full of chips from the nearby bodega and loomed over Kris. Kris tried his best to keep his smile. He made a few missteps during his performance, and it was clear the man wanted to just leave but all that was left was the big reveal. A blue stripe backed deck of cards in hand, Kris remembered all the steps he practiced for hours on end. He flicked his wrist, bringing the card from the back of his hand to give the illusion of an appearance out of thin air. He lifted the hopefully correct card, the king of hearts, up towards to the man. “Now is this your card?” he tried to say but his voice cracked as he squeaked out the word, card.

The man looked unimpressed. “Yep,” he said and quickly went to leave. But Kris rushed to pick up in front of him the blue pinstripe trilby hat and grabbed the fat man’s arm. “If you enjoyed the show, it would mean a lot if you—”
The fat man shook him off his arm. It jiggled like a plate of jello. “Kid, I sat through your entire magic show! What more do you want from me!” he yelled before shoving Kris’s hand off and briskly walking away.

Kris thought about lighting his bag a tiny bit on fire, but he just breathed a heavy sigh. He glanced down at the hat in his hand, quickly counting the money he had. Altogether he spent five hours out in the cold, with only a disappointing three dollars and some change to show for it. Not just that, but half a week was spent practicing the trick, getting it to a level Faramouche would approve of. Kris got incredibly frustrated. In the end what was this all for?

His master had him doing card tricks when he should be in some mystical ethereal plane or deciphering mystical tomes or something with dragons! Dragons exist and yet for some inexplicable reason, Kris was here. He had enough.

Kris felt a hand clamp down on his shoulder. “At this rate, we’re never going to have enough for the bus,” Kris turned around to see his bright blue-pinstripe suit wearing master, the great Faramouche, the self-titled greatest magician of the world.

But Kris didn’t bother greeting him. Kris hated how well a tall man dressed like Frank Sinatra could sneak up on someone. “Where have you been?” Kris asked, his anger causing his voice to crack again.
Faramouche raised his hands in mock defense. “Calm down there tiger,” Faramouche pinched the money out of the hat, leaving the question unanswered. “There seems to be enough for one bus ticket to the Holiday Inn,” he put the money into his suit pocket. “So I guess I’ll be heading over now by myself,” Faramouche joked.
There may have been a point where he would have cracked a polite smile out of respect, but Kris frowned. Things had to change. He threw the hat onto the ground.“I’m sick of standing out here in the cold, looking like a clueless idiot!” he yelled.

Faramouche bent down and picked his hat off the ground. “I think the correct term would be a magician’s apprentice,” he dusted off his trilby and positioned it slightly off-kilter on his head. ”My apprentice to be exact,” he snapped back with a smirk on his face.

Kris threw his arms up. “Maybe if you were an actual magician! But all we’ve been doing is traveling state to state performing tricks! I’m tired of holding your jacket and hat while you perform. I’m tired of these card tricks. And I’m tired of not learning actual magic,” he screamed.

Faramouche just calmly shrugged. “All in good time, young grasshopper,” he said much to the chagrin of Kris.
“I’m beginning to think that you don’t actually know magic,” Kris challenged.
Faramouche responded by reaching over to Kris’s ear and pulling a quarter. He grinned a toothy smile. “This is magic.”

“Ugh!” groaned Kris.

“Maybe we should go over the lesson again. Now Kris,” Faramouche made a pensive face, “what is the building block of a good trick?”

“Misdirection,” Kris said exasperatedly. This had been drilled into him for hours. He was tired of Faramouche playing games with him. “At least tell me why you’ve been gone for the last five hours!” Kris yelled, hoping for any kind of clear answer from Faramouche.

Faramouche smiled slyly, a smile Kris knew meant unneeded melodrama. Unbuttoning his jacket, he grabbed the right corner. “Are you prepared? Are you ready for it? Can you handle it?” Faramouche put on a skeptical face and raised an eyebrow.

Kris didn’t answer. He just wanted Faramouche to finally get to the point. Whipping the right side out, Faramouche showed the silk inside. His hand went to the pocket, and slowly he began to draw it out.
Without noticing, Kris was leaning in to get a closer look. With a flourish, Faramouche revealed what seemed to be another playing card.

“Really?” Kris said in disbelief. “You left me alone for five hours for a playing card!”
Annoyingly Faramouche shoved his other hand in front of Kris. “No, no, no, my dear apprentice,” Faramouche waved his pointer finger back and forth. “Like with all magic, things are not as they seem. This so-called playing card is a result of a four-year-long search. High and low I looked, searching every nook and cranny of the dirty magic underworld.”

Throughout his apprenticeship, Kris realized more and more Faramouche’s habit for theatrical monologuing. And how much he disliked it. He was about to make the point that this was Buffalo. What magic underworld? But this was the first time, he seemed to be talking about magic. So despite wanting to, Kris wasn’t going to interrupt.
“Yes. Yes. It has been a truly harrowing quest of the highest difficulty. But now, finally, here it is!” Faramouche raised the card up into the air in triumph.

Kris couldn’t help but get curious. He looked up at the card when a question suddenly hit him. “But what does it do?” he asked.

And then the usually quick-mouthed Faramouche faltered. His arm lowered and he quickly reinserted the card back into his jacket pocket. “Sorry. Uh, trade secret,” he said.
“What! But aren’t I your apprentice?” Kris said.
Faramouche buttoned his jacket. “Look kid. It’d be too dangerous to tell you. You just aren’t ready to know,” he explained.

Kris couldn’t accept that as an answer. He spent countless days in the library at the Academy. “Then when am I going to be ready? How much longer do I have to do this?”
Faramouche frowned. Kris could tell Faramouche had enough of the questions. “However long I tell you, Kris,” Faramouche stated. “You’ve just got trust me on this, okay?”
“How can I trust you, when you don’t tell me anything! All the other students from the Academy have gotten to actually use magic. I’m falling behind!” he ranted. This apprenticeship was supposed to make him a better wizard, but how is that possible when he doesn’t get taught any real magic.

Faramouche massaged his temples. “You’ve got to get over your preconceptions and look deeper, Kris. Magic isn’t just what you think it is,” he muttered. “I don’t know what else to tell you. Just trust me,” he repeated.
Kris couldn’t look at him. Kris kept his head pointed towards the ground. He told himself that all of the magic tricks, was a test for his perseverance and eventually Faramouche would teach him magic. At the beginning, he knew not to expect an easy apprenticeship. Faramouche hadn’t given an apprentice a pass in the last ten years. Forcing enough students to repeat a year, he was avoided like a plague, with the last few years having no Academy students apprenticing under him. Until Kris came.

Kris could have chosen anybody else; he was a top Academy student. But Kris chose Faramouche because he wanted the hardest challenge to better his magic. He could not have anticipated the reason for other student’s failures. Since he began his apprenticeship, Kris had yet to learn or even see the self-proclaimed great Faramouche perform any actual magic. Kris wanted to quit, to leave Faramouche, but repeating a year was not an option. It would be a black mark on his record if he quit, or worse got expelled from Faramouche’s tutelage.

For two weeks, he did his best to tough it out, but now Kris was tired of being left in the dark. Five hours, he left Kris alone, and he wouldn’t even explain the single card. He saw the cards in his hand. It was the same as the rest of these. Then an idea came to him. Kris decided if Faramouche wasn’t going to tell him anything, he’d just figure the secret of the card out himself.

Faramouche patted his shoulder. “Buck up, Kris. This is about to be prime time. You’ll be done in a few more hours.”
Kris angrily shoved the deck at Faramouche, hard enough Kris hoped he wouldn’t notice Kris pinching the card from his jacket. He palmed it like he practiced, the way Faramouche taught him, and quickly pushed both his hands into his pockets.

Faramouche, clutching a messy pile of cards, just shook his head. “Alright. I see how things are going right now,” he said. Kris worried he might have noticed. “You’re taking a break,” Faramouche said sternly. “I’ll get us the rest of the money.”

Kris felt relief wash over him. “But we will be finishing this lesson up later,” Faramouche placed his hat back on the ground.

Kris, convinced he didn’t notice, had to leave to finally figure out what the card was. “I’m going to the restroom,” his voice cracked slightly.

Faramouche was shuffling the cards back into a stack. “Fine,” he said reluctantly.

Kris turned and walked across the street towards the bodega. There he could be alone to study the card, and afterwards he’d slip it right back into Faramouche’s jacket. He was at the door of the bodega now.
“Kris!” Over his shoulder, he heard Faramouche yell after him. Kris glanced behind him. His master was sprinting towards him, his suit sleeves and pant legs billowing. He noticed faster than Kris hoped.
With a ding, Kris pulled open the door to the bodega. “Where’s the bathroom?” he asked.
“In the back,” the clerk said.

It was a small store, aisles with barely enough room to walk through. As fast as he could, Kris bumped his way through and found the only bathroom. He ran in and was hit with an indescribable stench. It was horrendously dirty, not a clean tile on the floor. He was surprised the mirror could even hold a reflection with all the grime on it. Like an afterthought, the toilet was squeezed into the corner of the small box of a room. Kris didn’t want to stay, but he closed and locked the door behind him. Faramouche would reach the bodega soon. Kris quickly piled on incantations onto the door that would keep it locked. They weren’t impenetrable, but it would take at least 5 minutes to dispel all of them, if Faramouche could even use magic.

Catching his breath, Kris took the card out from his pocket and brought it up to his face. The back was an average blue pattern of a playing card. Kris flipped it over. The front, rather than a suit of a card, had intricate swirling symbols engraved on paper which had a strange shine. Kris recognized them as magical runes, but he couldn’t read them at all. It was unlike anything he had studied at the Academy. Kris wanted to learn about new and strange things like this. That Faramouche would hide this from his own apprentice, made Kris ball his other hand into a fist.
He still couldn’t tell the purpose of the card. But touching the intricate rune design, he could sense a switch he could press on if he just fed a little magic in. But what happened after, he could only guess.
“Ding,” it was the sound of the bodega door.

“Where’s the bathroom?” it was Faramouche’s voice. When the clerk told Faramouche, Kris heard the sound of rushed steps and the bumping into of store aisles. The doorknob jiggled up and down from Faramouche trying to get in. There was a quick succession of raps onto the door. “Kris, give me the card back!” he yelled.
But Kris didn’t answer and continued studying the card. The runes tingled to the touch. Just some magic and they would activate. Easy enough.

Faramouche was banging on the door now. The doorknob shook violently. “Open the door, Kris! You have to give me the card back!” Kris looked to see if there was a window to climb out of, but there was nothing. Kris was trapped in the bathroom.

He stared at the reflection of himself in the grimy mirror. Kris was apprehensive about what to do next. Never had he disobeyed a teacher before, and Faramouche seemed incredibly mad. But he had gotten this far. If he gave the card back now, Faramouche would never tell him what it was. If somehow he didn’t get expelled from his apprenticeship, there were still only more pointless card tricks on street corners, trying to make money for the next bus waiting for him. He looked at the card. It was so thin. Add magic and then the runes would activate. What could the harm even be? In the end, Faramouche would eventually unlock the door. This was the only opportunity to figure something out.

There’s more banging on the door. “Kris, dispel the enchantments and open the door! I’m going to make it in sooner or later!” he screamed.

But Kris ignored it. He focused and stared hard at the swirling rune pattern. He willed magic to flow from his fingertips, and it leaped into the card’s runes. He felt it energize the card which began to project a rainbow light spectrum. But then nothing else. For a moment Kris got disappointed that perhaps it was just a Faramouche designed spectacle.

Suddenly through his finger, he felt a rebound of magic rush back into him. The power of it paralyzed him. It was the most magical power he had ever felt. But it was too much. Soon it filled his entire body. His insides burned while it coursed through him. “Ahh!” he screamed in pain. The mirror shattered in front of him, and Kris could feel the cracking of tile under his feet.

“Kris!” Faramouche yelled.

He tried to scream for help, but it was too much. He felt like he was bursting at the seams. Unable to move, all he could do was scream. Beams of dazzling lights flashed through his vision, but from the corner of his eye, he saw the door lock turn. Faramouche must have finished dispelling it.

Faramouch burst into the bathroom. His suit was ruffled, his face distressed, and strands of hair were falling out of his hat. He was more unkempt than Kris had ever seen him. He tried to grab the card from Kris’s hand but his arm got pushed back when he touched it. “Ah!” Faramouche shook his hand in pain. “Hold on Kris,” Faramouche looked into Kris’s eyes and tried to assure him, but the pain was excruciating for Kris. Faramouche pulled the deck of cards out of his pocket and threw them up. Instead of falling, the cards were suspended in midair and began to slowly rotate around Kris. Arcs of light shot from Kris’s body, and he felt magic being siphoned from him. Still, it wasn’t enough. The magic continuously flooded into him. His senses were being overwhelmed.

“Kris, listen to me,” Faramouche tried to explain. The card! It’s misdirection! You have to look…” Faramouche’s voice faded to nothing, despite the movement of his mouth. Kris’s couldn’t hear anything, not even his own screaming. Faramouche looked on helpless, just mouthing out directions Kris couldn’t hear before even Kris’s vision became a dizzying kaleidoscope of incoherent colors.

Kris didn’t know what to do. He felt a terrible numbness in his hands, burned out from pure magic. Kris tried his best to remember the long hours learning the card trick.

What was misdirection? Days earlier Faramouche was teaching him, and Kris wished he paid more attention then “It’s all about misdirection, Kris,” Faramouche said. “This is the building block of all good magic. Manipulating someone’s attention, while the real secret is hidden right in front of them.”

Kris struggled to understand how it applied. He racked his brain for a solution, while his body was burning and a sickening numbness in his hands began to spread. He could only feel the magic coursing through his hands from the runes.

Then he remembered the back. It was the same average back as any other playing card. But why would it be? Why isn’t the same rune pattern on the back? The intricate details on the front were the misdirection. It had to be the real secret. If not, then Kris didn’t know what else to do.

Kris mustered his last sense of control, willing magic to leave his hand towards the card back. But the magic fought him. He was swimming against the current. He fought to inch it forward until it was on the cusp of leaving his hand. Kris could sense hidden runes on the card back. He was right. He just needed to bridge the connection. But the numbness was overtaking him, the cycle of colors flashed faster and faster, and he could feel himself about to faint.
But when his mind began to slip he remembered. “Look deeper,” his master had said. With a last push, he exerted as much magic he could. A small spark exited his hand, and the card back emitted a brief glow. Then like a close of a door, the flood of magic stopped. His hand relaxed and the card fell, fluttering harmless, towards the ground. Kris, finally able to see, saw his master Faramouche, sweat beading on his forehead, quickly grab the card and threw it back into his jacket. The rest of the cards stopped their orbit and flew into Faramouche’s pant pocket.
Kris was short of breath. He could barely stand up. Before he knew it, he was tipping over.

“Kris!” he yelled out. Faramouche grabbed his arm and caught him. “Don’t worry. I’ve got you, kid,” Faramouche said before Kris shut his eyes and slipped into a stupor.

When Kris next opened his eyes, it was to the sight and smell of a green bus pulling up. He was laying on the not very soft cushion of the bus stop, the blue pinstripe jacket laid over him. He carefully bent and stretched his fingers, testing his magic. His weren’t numb anymore, just sore. Performing actual magic he’d have to hold back on for now, but other than fatigue, he felt somewhat alright. Getting up, he sluggishly looked around for Faramouche.
“Now is this your card, sir?” Kris heard behind him. He turned to look. A small crowd had gathered around Faramouche. Kris slowly walked over.

“Are you completely sure this is not your card?” Faramouche continued. Everyone laughed.
“Yes,” a man said.

“My god that is strange,” Faramouche feigned confusion. He noticed Kris and gave him a slight nod. Kris joined the crowd, apprehensively waiting for the end of the show. There was no way Faramouche was letting him get away with stealing the card.

“Perhaps the young lady to your right would happen to know?” Faramouche pointed to an elderly woman who blushed at his comment. “Young miss, could you please open your purse?” she grinned and opened it.
“Oh my god!” she squealed. She pulled the card, the king of hearts, out and the crowd cheered.
“Now is that your card?” Faramouche boomed, with the answer, of course, being yes, before giving a deep bow. “Today’s show is over! You were a great audience!”

After the crowd dispersed, either leaving or getting on buses, Kris walked up to Faramouche. He handed him his jacket back.
“How you feeling?” Faramouche asked, in an uncharacteristically soft tone.
“Fine. Just tired,” Kris sheepishly said. “How long have I been asleep?”
“A good two hours, kid,” he chuckled. “Check the hat,” he pointed down at the hat. It was filled to the brim with cash.

Kris smiled. It didn’t seem like Faramouche was mad. “Enough for two tickets, huh?” Kris joked.
But Faramouche didn’t smile back. “I, uh, don’t think you should come with me anymore.”
Kris was disappointed. He thought he might have escaped the consequences of his theft. “Is this, is this a punishment?” Kris stammered, assuming the answer to be yes.

“No, it’s not,” Faramouche said much to the surprise of Kris. “That amount of magic coursing through you, Kris, it could have fried your ability to do magic. Or worse, you could have died.”
“But I’m fine!” Kris raised his arms and then winced in pain.

“I’m your master, Kris. You are my apprentice, my responsibility. And I think you’d agree, that I haven’t been the best master. Frankly, I never have been good at this kind of thing. I think it’d better if you went back to the Academy to request a switch in master. There’s enough money in the hat to get you back uptown, back to a portal that can get you to the Academy. You have my approval for the switch. Don’t worry. Your records are going to be clean, and you won’t have to repeat a year,” Faramouche smiled, but his eyes looked sad. Kris was too shocked to say anything. “Compared to most of my other apprentices you’ve actually lasted a helluva lot longer. Course, then again most of them also don’t try and steal stuff from me,” Faramouche awkwardly chuckled.

Kris stared at him in disbelief. There was a time where Kris had wished for such an easy way out, to escape the teachings of Faramouche. But not now. Despite almost dying, Kris felt like he finally uncovered something new, something magical.

Faramouche took Kris’s hand. “Something to remember me by. You’re going to do great things, kid,” he placed the deck into Kris’s palm. “Goodbye Kris,” he patted his shoulder and walked away.

Kris watched in silence as he gets on the bus. He looked at the cards in his hand. For hours, he practiced with these cards, doing the same thing over and over again. Shuffling, palming the card, hiding it behind his hand, and then with a flick of a wrist making it appear. No matter how alien or difficult it was, Kris practiced till his fingers hurt. Because Kris wanted to be a great magician.

So Kris began shuffling the deck. Selecting a single card, he displayed it to an imagined audience. In one smooth fluid motion, he gripped the card’s edges with his pinky and pointer finger, curling the card slightly. And sliding it behind his palm, the card vanished. The trick was obvious once you knew the secret.

With a snap and a flick of his wrist, the card was back. Taking the deck of cards and the blue pin-stripe hat, Kris walked onto the same bus Faramouche did.

END.
By Matthew Viriyapah

Posted on

The Great Faramouche and the Card Trick

Kris received a few letters this morning from friends from the Bernhold Academy of Magic. It’s been two weeks now into their respective apprenticeships, and everyone was sharing how things were going. One was helping analyze magic in deep-sea rock, while at the bottom of the ocean. Another wrote back on slightly singed paper, that she was experimenting with a new type of magic her master was developing. All of these letters describing fantastical magic kept Kris quite literally spellbound when he read them. But Kris would not dare write back. Two weeks in, how could he possibly say he was just on some mundane street corner in Buffalo, New York?

It was a chilly midday on the corner of Main and 23rd street. A fat man yawned. A foot taller than Kris, he was holding a grocery bag full of chips from the nearby bodega and loomed over Kris. Kris tried his best to keep his smile. He made a few missteps during his performance, and it was clear the man wanted to just leave but all that was left was the big reveal. A blue stripe backed deck of cards in hand, Kris remembered all the steps he practiced for hours on end. He flicked his wrist, bringing the card from the back of his hand to give the illusion of an appearance out of thin air. He lifted the hopefully correct card, the king of hearts, up towards to the man. “Now is this your card?” he tried to say but his voice cracked as he squeaked out the word, card.

The man looked unimpressed. “Yep,” he said and quickly went to leave. But Kris rushed to pick up in front of him the blue pinstripe trilby hat and grabbed the fat man’s arm. “If you enjoyed the show, it would mean a lot if you—”

The fat man shook him off his arm. It jiggled like a plate of jello. “Kid, I sat through your entire magic show! What more do you want from me!” he yelled before shoving Kris’s hand off and briskly walking away.

Kris thought about lighting his bag a tiny bit on fire, but he just breathed a heavy sigh. He glanced down at the hat in his hand, quickly counting the money he had. Altogether he spent five hours out in the cold, with only a disappointing three dollars and some change to show for it. Not just that, but half a week was spent practicing the trick, getting it to a level Faramouche would approve of. Kris got incredibly frustrated. In the end what was this all for?

His master had him doing card tricks when he should be in some mystical ethereal plane or deciphering mystical tomes or something with dragons! Dragons exist and yet for some inexplicable reason, Kris was here. He had enough.  

Kris felt a hand clamp down on his shoulder. “At this rate, we’re never going to have enough for the bus,” Kris turned around to see his bright blue-pinstripe suit wearing master, the great Faramouche, the self-titled greatest magician of the world.

But Kris didn’t bother greeting him. Kris hated how well a tall man dressed like Frank Sinatra could sneak up on someone. “Where have you been?” Kris asked, his anger causing his voice to crack again.

Faramouche raised his hands in mock defense. “Calm down there tiger,” Faramouche pinched the money out of the hat, leaving the question unanswered. “There seems to be enough for one bus ticket to the Holiday Inn,” he put the money into his suit pocket. “So I guess I’ll be heading over now by myself,” Faramouche joked.

There may have been a point where he would have cracked a polite smile out of respect, but Kris frowned. Things had to change. He threw the hat onto the ground.“I’m sick of standing out here in the cold, looking like a clueless idiot!” he yelled.

Faramouche bent down and picked his hat off the ground. “I think the correct term would be a magician’s apprentice,” he dusted off his trilby and positioned it slightly off-kilter on his head. ”My apprentice to be exact,” he snapped back with a smirk on his face.

Kris threw his arms up. “Maybe if you were an actual magician! But all we’ve been doing is traveling state to state performing tricks! I’m tired of holding your jacket and hat while you perform. I’m tired of these card tricks. And I’m tired of not learning actual magic,” he screamed.

Faramouche just calmly shrugged. “All in good time, young grasshopper,” he said much to the chagrin of Kris.

“I’m beginning to think that you don’t actually know magic,” Kris challenged.

Faramouche responded by reaching over to Kris’s ear and pulling a quarter. He grinned a toothy smile. “This is magic.”

“Ugh!” groaned Kris.

“Maybe we should go over the lesson again. Now Kris,” Faramouche made a pensive face, “what is the building block of a good trick?”

“Misdirection,” Kris said exasperatedly. This had been drilled into him for hours. He was tired of Faramouche playing games with him. “At least tell me why you’ve been gone for the last five hours!” Kris yelled, hoping for any kind of clear answer from Faramouche.

Faramouche smiled slyly, a smile Kris knew meant unneeded melodrama. Unbuttoning his jacket, he grabbed the right corner. “Are you prepared? Are you ready for it? Can you handle it?” Faramouche put on a skeptical face and raised an eyebrow.

Kris didn’t answer. He just wanted Faramouche to finally get to the point. Whipping the right side out, Faramouche showed the silk inside. His hand went to the pocket, and slowly he began to draw it out.

Without noticing, Kris was leaning in to get a closer look. With a flourish, Faramouche revealed what seemed to be another playing card.

“Really?” Kris said in disbelief. “You left me alone for five hours for a playing card!”

Annoyingly Faramouche shoved his other hand in front of Kris. “No, no, no, my dear apprentice,” Faramouche waved his pointer finger back and forth. “Like with all magic, things are not as they seem. This so-called playing card is a result of a four-year-long search. High and low I looked, searching every nook and cranny of the dirty magic underworld.”

Throughout his apprenticeship, Kris realized more and more Faramouche’s habit for theatrical monologuing. And how much he disliked it. He was about to make the point that this was Buffalo. What magic underworld? But this was the first time, he seemed to be talking about magic. So despite wanting to, Kris wasn’t going to interrupt.

“Yes. Yes. It has been a truly harrowing quest of the highest difficulty. But now, finally, here it is!” Faramouche raised the card up into the air in triumph.

Kris couldn’t help but get curious. He looked up at the card when a question suddenly hit him. “But what does it do?” he asked.

And then the usually quick-mouthed Faramouche faltered. His arm lowered and he quickly reinserted the card back into his jacket pocket. “Sorry. Uh, trade secret,” he said.

“What! But aren’t I your apprentice?” Kris said.

Faramouche buttoned his jacket. “Look kid. It’d be too dangerous to tell you. You just aren’t ready to know,” he explained.

Kris couldn’t accept that as an answer. He spent countless days in the library at the Academy. “Then when am I going to be ready? How much longer do I have to do this?”

Faramouche frowned. Kris could tell Faramouche had enough of the questions. “However long I tell you, Kris,” Faramouche stated. “You’ve just got trust me on this, okay?”

“How can I trust you, when you don’t tell me anything! All the other students from the Academy have gotten to actually use magic. I’m falling behind!” he ranted. This apprenticeship was supposed to make him a better wizard, but how is that possible when he doesn’t get taught any real magic.

Faramouche massaged his temples. “You’ve got to get over your preconceptions and look deeper, Kris. Magic isn’t just what you think it is,” he muttered. “I don’t know what else to tell you. Just trust me,” he repeated.

Kris couldn’t look at him. Kris kept his head pointed towards the ground. He told himself that all of the magic tricks, was a test for his perseverance and eventually Faramouche would teach him magic. At the beginning, he knew not to expect an easy apprenticeship. Faramouche hadn’t given an apprentice a pass in the last ten years. Forcing enough students to repeat a year, he was avoided like a plague, with the last few years having no Academy students apprenticing under him. Until Kris came.

Kris could have chosen anybody else; he was a top Academy student. But Kris chose Faramouche because he wanted the hardest challenge to better his magic. He could not have anticipated the reason for other student’s failures. Since he began his apprenticeship, Kris had yet to learn or even see the self-proclaimed great Faramouche perform any actual magic. Kris wanted to quit, to leave Faramouche, but repeating a year was not an option. It would be a black mark on his record if he quit, or worse got expelled from Faramouche’s tutelage.

For two weeks, he did his best to tough it out, but now Kris was tired of being left in the dark. Five hours, he left Kris alone, and he wouldn’t even explain the single card. He saw the cards in his hand. It was the same as the rest of these. Then an idea came to him. Kris decided if Faramouche wasn’t going to tell him anything, he’d just figure the secret of the card out himself.

Faramouche patted his shoulder. “Buck up, Kris. This is about to be prime time. You’ll be done in a few more hours.”

Kris angrily shoved the deck at Faramouche, hard enough Kris hoped he wouldn’t notice Kris pinching the card from his jacket. He palmed it like he practiced, the way Faramouche taught him, and quickly pushed both his hands into his pockets.

Faramouche, clutching a messy pile of cards, just shook his head. “Alright. I see how things are going right now,” he said. Kris worried he might have noticed. “You’re taking a break,” Faramouche said sternly. “I’ll get us the rest of the money.”

Kris felt relief wash over him. “But we will be finishing this lesson up later,” Faramouche placed his hat back on the ground.

Kris, convinced he didn’t notice, had to leave to finally figure out what the card was. “I’m going to the restroom,” his voice cracked slightly.

Faramouche was shuffling the cards back into a stack. “Fine,” he said reluctantly.

Kris turned and walked across the street towards the bodega. There he could be alone to study the card, and afterwards he’d slip it right back into Faramouche’s jacket. He was at the door of the bodega now.

“Kris!” Over his shoulder, he heard Faramouche yell after him. Kris glanced behind him. His master was sprinting towards him, his suit sleeves and pant legs billowing. He noticed faster than Kris hoped.

With a ding, Kris pulled open the door to the bodega. “Where’s the bathroom?” he asked.

“In the back,” the clerk said.

It was a small store, aisles with barely enough room to walk through. As fast as he could, Kris bumped his way through and found the only bathroom. He ran in and was hit with an indescribable stench. It was horrendously dirty, not a clean tile on the floor. He was surprised the mirror could even hold a reflection with all the grime on it. Like an afterthought, the toilet was squeezed into the corner of the small box of a room. Kris didn’t want to stay, but he closed and locked the door behind him. Faramouche would reach the bodega soon. Kris quickly piled on incantations onto the door that would keep it locked. They weren’t impenetrable, but it would take at least 5 minutes to dispel all of them, if Faramouche could even use magic.

Catching his breath, Kris took the card out from his pocket and brought it up to his face. The back was an average blue pattern of a playing card. Kris flipped it over. The front, rather than a suit of a card, had intricate swirling symbols engraved on paper which had a strange shine. Kris recognized them as magical runes, but he couldn’t read them at all. It was unlike anything he had studied at the Academy. Kris wanted to learn about new and strange things like this. That Faramouche would hide this from his own apprentice, made Kris ball his other hand into a fist.

He still couldn’t tell the purpose of the card. But touching the intricate rune design, he could sense a switch he could press on if he just fed a little magic in. But what happened after, he could only guess.

“Ding,” it was the sound of the bodega door.

“Where’s the bathroom?” it was Faramouche’s voice. When the clerk told Faramouche, Kris heard the sound of rushed steps and the bumping into of store aisles. The doorknob jiggled up and down from Faramouche trying to get in. There was a quick succession of raps onto the door. “Kris, give me the card back!” he yelled.

But Kris didn’t answer and continued studying the card. The runes tingled to the touch. Just some magic and they would activate. Easy enough.

Faramouche was banging on the door now. The doorknob shook violently. “Open the door, Kris! You have to give me the card back!” Kris looked to see if there was a window to climb out of, but there was nothing. Kris was trapped in the bathroom.

He stared at the reflection of himself in the grimy mirror. Kris was apprehensive about what to do next. Never had he disobeyed a teacher before, and Faramouche seemed incredibly mad. But he had gotten this far. If he gave the card back now, Faramouche would never tell him what it was. If somehow he didn’t get expelled from his apprenticeship, there were still only more pointless card tricks on street corners, trying to make money for the next bus waiting for him. He looked at the card. It was so thin. Add magic and then the runes would activate. What could the harm even be? In the end, Faramouche would eventually unlock the door. This was the only opportunity to figure something out.

There’s more banging on the door. “Kris, dispel the enchantments and open the door! I’m going to make it in sooner or later!” he screamed.

But Kris ignored it. He focused and stared hard at the swirling rune pattern. He willed magic to flow from his fingertips, and it leaped into the card’s runes. He felt it energize the card which began to project a rainbow light spectrum. But then nothing else. For a moment Kris got disappointed that perhaps it was just a Faramouche designed spectacle.

Suddenly through his finger, he felt a rebound of magic rush back into him. The power of it paralyzed him. It was the most magical power he had ever felt. But it was too much. Soon it filled his entire body. His insides burned while it coursed through him. “Ahh!” he screamed in pain. The mirror shattered in front of him, and Kris could feel the cracking of tile under his feet.

“Kris!” Faramouche yelled.

He tried to scream for help, but it was too much. He felt like he was bursting at the seams. Unable to move, all he could do was scream. Beams of dazzling lights flashed through his vision, but from the corner of his eye, he saw the door lock turn. Faramouche must have finished dispelling it.

Faramouch burst into the bathroom. His suit was ruffled, his face distressed, and strands of hair were falling out of his hat. He was more unkempt than Kris had ever seen him. He tried to grab the card from Kris’s hand but his arm got pushed back when he touched it. “Ah!” Faramouche shook his hand in pain. “Hold on Kris,” Faramouche looked into Kris’s eyes and tried to assure him, but the pain was excruciating for Kris. Faramouche pulled the deck of cards out of his pocket and threw them up. Instead of falling, the cards were suspended in midair and began to slowly rotate around Kris. Arcs of light shot from Kris’s body, and he felt magic being siphoned from him. Still, it wasn’t enough. The magic continuously flooded into him. His senses were being overwhelmed.

“Kris, listen to me,” Faramouche tried to explain. The card! It’s misdirection! You have to look…” Faramouche’s voice faded to nothing, despite the movement of his mouth. Kris’s couldn’t hear anything, not even his own screaming. Faramouche looked on helpless, just mouthing out directions Kris couldn’t hear before even Kris’s vision became a dizzying kaleidoscope of incoherent colors.

Kris didn’t know what to do. He felt a terrible numbness in his hands, burned out from pure magic. Kris tried his best to remember the long hours learning the card trick.

What was misdirection? Days earlier Faramouche was teaching him, and Kris wished he paid more attention then “It’s all about misdirection, Kris,” Faramouche said. “This is the building block of all good magic. Manipulating someone’s attention, while the real secret is hidden right in front of them.”

Kris struggled to understand how it applied. He racked his brain for a solution, while his body was burning and a sickening numbness in his hands began to spread. He could only feel the magic coursing through his hands from the runes.

Then he remembered the back. It was the same average back as any other playing card. But why would it be? Why isn’t the same rune pattern on the back? The intricate details on the front were the misdirection. It had to be the real secret. If not, then Kris didn’t know what else to do.

Kris mustered his last sense of control, willing magic to leave his hand towards the card back. But the magic fought him. He was swimming against the current. He fought to inch it forward until it was on the cusp of leaving his hand. Kris could sense hidden runes on the card back. He was right. He just needed to bridge the connection. But the numbness was overtaking him, the cycle of colors flashed faster and faster, and he could feel himself about to faint.

But when his mind began to slip he remembered. “Look deeper,” his master had said. With a last push, he exerted as much magic he could. A small spark exited his hand, and the card back emitted a brief glow. Then like a close of a door, the flood of magic stopped. His hand relaxed and the card fell, fluttering harmless, towards the ground. Kris, finally able to see, saw his master Faramouche, sweat beading on his forehead, quickly grab the card and threw it back into his jacket. The rest of the cards stopped their orbit and flew into Faramouche’s pant pocket.

Kris was short of breath. He could barely stand up. Before he knew it, he was tipping over.

“Kris!” he yelled out. Faramouche grabbed his arm and caught him. “Don’t worry. I’ve got you, kid,” Faramouche said before Kris shut his eyes and slipped into a stupor.

When Kris next opened his eyes, it was to the sight and smell of a green bus pulling up. He was laying on the not very soft cushion of the bus stop, the blue pinstripe jacket laid over him. He carefully bent and stretched his fingers, testing his magic. His weren’t numb anymore, just sore. Performing actual magic he’d have to hold back on for now, but other than fatigue, he felt somewhat alright. Getting up, he sluggishly looked around for Faramouche.

“Now is this your card, sir?” Kris heard behind him. He turned to look. A small crowd had gathered around Faramouche. Kris slowly walked over.

“Are you completely sure this is not your card?” Faramouche continued. Everyone laughed.

“Yes,” a man said.

“My god that is strange,” Faramouche feigned confusion. He noticed Kris and gave him a slight nod. Kris joined the crowd, apprehensively waiting for the end of the show. There was no way Faramouche was letting him get away with stealing the card.

“Perhaps the young lady to your right would happen to know?” Faramouche pointed to an elderly woman who blushed at his comment. “Young miss, could you please open your purse?” she grinned and opened it.

“Oh my god!” she squealed. She pulled the card, the king of hearts, out and the crowd cheered.

“Now is that your card?” Faramouche boomed, with the answer, of course, being yes, before giving a deep bow. “Today’s show is over! You were a great audience!”

After the crowd dispersed, either leaving or getting on buses, Kris walked up to Faramouche. He handed him his jacket back.

“How you feeling?” Faramouche asked, in an uncharacteristically soft tone.

“Fine. Just tired,” Kris sheepishly said. “How long have I been asleep?”

“A good two hours, kid,” he chuckled. “Check the hat,” he pointed down at the hat. It was filled to the brim with cash.

Kris smiled. It didn’t seem like Faramouche was mad. “Enough for two tickets, huh?” Kris joked.

But Faramouche didn’t smile back. “I, uh, don’t think you should come with me anymore.”

Kris was disappointed. He thought he might have escaped the consequences of his theft. “Is this, is this a punishment?” Kris stammered, assuming the answer to be yes.

“No, it’s not,” Faramouche said much to the surprise of Kris. “That amount of magic coursing through you, Kris, it could have fried your ability to do magic. Or worse, you could have died.”

“But I’m fine!” Kris raised his arms and then winced in pain.

“I’m your master, Kris. You are my apprentice, my responsibility. And I think you’d agree, that I haven’t been the best master. Frankly, I never have been good at this kind of thing. I think it’d better if you went back to the Academy to request a switch in master. There’s enough money in the hat to get you back uptown, back to a portal that can get you to the Academy. You have my approval for the switch. Don’t worry. Your records are going to be clean, and you won’t have to repeat a year,” Faramouche smiled, but his eyes looked sad. Kris was too shocked to say anything. “Compared to most of my other apprentices you’ve actually lasted a helluva lot longer. Course, then again most of them also don’t try and steal stuff from me,” Faramouche awkwardly chuckled.

Kris stared at him in disbelief. There was a time where Kris had wished for such an easy way out, to escape the teachings of Faramouche. But not now. Despite almost dying, Kris felt like he finally uncovered something new, something magical.

Faramouche took Kris’s hand. “Something to remember me by. You’re going to do great things, kid,” he placed the deck into Kris’s palm. “Goodbye Kris,” he patted his shoulder and walked away.

Kris watched in silence as he gets on the bus. He looked at the cards in his hand. For hours, he practiced with these cards, doing the same thing over and over again. Shuffling, palming the card, hiding it behind his hand, and then with a flick of a wrist making it appear. No matter how alien or difficult it was, Kris practiced till his fingers hurt. Because Kris wanted to be a great magician.

So Kris began shuffling the deck. Selecting a single card, he displayed it to an imagined audience. In one smooth fluid motion, he gripped the card’s edges with his pinky and pointer finger, curling the card slightly. And sliding it behind his palm, the card vanished. The trick was obvious once you knew the secret.

With a snap and a flick of his wrist, the card was back. Taking the deck of cards and the blue pin-stripe hat, Kris walked onto the same bus Faramouche did.

 

END.

By Matthew Viriyapah

Posted on

Rocky Beginnings

Rocky Beginnings
by
Brittany Ellis

The room Mina Black stood in was dark. She assumed the people commissioning her next job didn’t want her to recognize them. That, or they thought it gave them an air of mystery. Either way, they would be disappointed to know she had better-than-average sight. Though if she kept standing around she might die of boredom before she ever discovered what they wanted her to steal.
Before she decided to abandon the creaky, old building, she heard a voice from behind.
“We’re so glad you could meet us, Miss Black.” The voice was gruff and most definitely male.
She spun around and in the gloom could make out the outline of an older man. He appeared thin, a long dark cloak that camouflaged his actual size. Behind him stood four more people. They had the hoods of their cloaks drawn up, hiding their faces completely. They weren’t relying solely on the lack of light to shield them from Mina’s view.
“You sure took your time,” Mina grumbled. She studied her blunt nails, attempting to be nonchalant.
The leader nodded slowly. “I apologize. We were…delayed.”
Mina held out her hands and shrugging. She didn’t tell the man how close he’d been to being minus one talented thief.
“Let’s not waste time,” she said instead, flipping her black hair over her shoulder. “Tell me what it is you want me to do.”
The man walked around Mina, the rest of the people following close behind. They had the herd-mentality of a worshiping cult. Memories were brought to the surface, memories that were best left forgotten. A shiver ran down her spine.
“There is an object of immense power,” the man said. “A stone, or a jewel really. We want you to get it from the man keeping it now and bring it to us.”
“You want me to go after someone’s fancy trinket?” Mina snorted. “Alright. Tell me who has it and you’ll get it by tomorrow morning at the latest.”
The shadowy shape of the man turned to Mina in surprise.
“Just like that?” he demanded. “You don’t even ask what it’s for?”
“As long as you pay me what I asked, you get your item.” Mina gave a wicked smile. “No questions asked.”
“Very well,” the man replied, sounding very pleased. He held out a small dagger. “Take this. It will allow one of our men to find you when you have the jewel.”
Mina reached out and took the dagger by the blade, careful not to nick her fingers in the process. The blade was thin and tapered to a sharp point. On the blade, under the leather-wrapped hilt, was a gold image of a multi-pointed star. After admiring it for a moment, she nodded, then turned to leave the building and the shadowy figures.

Mina stalked through the streets of the city. Magic hummed through her body, causing her fingers to tingle in anticipation.
As she’d left the building, one of the cloaked figures had stopped her, giving her a tiny vial, almost empty. Anyone else might have thought it was meaningless and thrown it away. However, Mina knew better.
Inside the vial was a single strand of hair. The hair of the man who she was going to steal from.
She’d been able to use the hair for a tracking spell, not an easy feat, and now that spell was leading her through the city. A slight tug, like a small child grabbing her shirt, pulled her. It grew more insistent the closer she got to the target.
The tugging led her to a nearly deserted street. The sun was setting and most people were heading home, ready for a cozy family dinner. The fleeting thought of Imogen, a young girl Mina took care of, passed through Mina’s mind. By now, Imogen would be heating up food and eating alone. A pang of guilt went through her that she hastily pushed aside.
In front of Mina, back to her, was a middle-aged man. His thick, brown hair was starting to streak with gray. He looked fit, though his shirt hung loose on him. His hands were shoved in his pockets and he turned his head to the side as if he heard Mina behind him.
There was a shadow of a beard along his jaw. Around his eyes and on his forehead were deep wrinkles. Mina could imagine years of frowning were carved on his face. Even in the fading light, his gray eyes were striking, one moment a cool silver and the next dark slate.
Mina, her footsteps made silent earlier with her magic, crept closer to the man. When she was within arms-length, she reached out for the man’s pockets.
She was used to doing this, had been stealing for years before ever becoming a professional thief. With the help of her magic, she was nearly invisible to ordinary people.
The man turned, looking at her, his face blank. “May I help you?”
Mina stared at him, aghast, yanking her hand back to her side. The man raised an eyebrow at her, seeming more curious than angry.
It was then that Mina realized there was no pulsing of magic around the man. Anytime there was magic, she could sense it. If the jewel was as powerful as the cloaked man said, it should have announced its presence by now. Which meant that the man didn’t have the jewel after all.
Or the man was talented enough to conceal magic.
“You look distressed,” the man said. Mina wasn’t sure if he was actually concerned or making fun of her. “What’s wrong?”
The man reached out for Mina, but she darted away before he could touch her. With one last wide-eyed stare, she spun around and ran. The man grabbed at her hand, touching her wrist before she was able to get sprint away, heart in her throat.

Mina walked toward home, her mind spinning. After an hour of aimless meandering she came to the decision to abandon the assignment to get the jewel.
She’d never failed a job before, but there was something about the man that unsettled her. It could’ve been the fact that she hadn’t sensed any magic on him or the way his eyes seemed to change colors. Mina thought of the way he’d looked at her, concerned, but somehow it was like he understood her with a glance. As though he could read her soul.
Mina shuddered at the thought. Unconsciously, she came to Moon River. The water was clear, flowing swiftly past and she crouched down to let the water trail around her fingers.
She heard heavy footsteps behind her before the person spoke.
“I’m here to pick up the jewel,” the stranger said in a deep voice.
Mina turned around. The man wore the dark cloak as the others had, but it was too big for him, the bottom pooling on the ground around his feet.
“I don’t have it,” Mina admitted. “I’ve decided I’m not going to get it. Our contract is severed.”
“That wasn’t part of the deal,” the man said. His voice was tight.
“I’m changing the deal.” Mina took the dagger from where she’d secured it at the small of her back.
When she held it out to the man, the hood of his cloak moved from side to side.
“If you want the stupid jewel,” Mina declared, “get it yourselves.”
Mina threw the dagger down, making sure the tip of the blade hit the ground, sinking in an inch. The hood tilted down and Mina assumed he was staring at the dagger.
“You will regret going back on your word,” the man responded.
“I’m sure I will,” Mina stated, not particularly worried. She turned away from the man, hurrying to her home.

The small house Mina lived in was old and run down. The door was pieced together after having been blown down a few months ago. Mina had yet to get it replaced and just used magic for the time being to keep it together.
Imogen was sitting on the sofa, a plate of microwaved chicken nuggets in front of her. When she saw Mina, she set the food on the couch next to her and jumped up. Her thin arms wrapped around Mina’s waist as the girl hugged Mina close.
“I didn’t think you’d be back so soon,” Imogen said, looking up.
Mina pushed the girl’s light hair away from her face and smiled. “I didn’t either, but since I’m here, what do you want to do?”
Imogen pondered the question for a moment, then asked, “Can you tell me about Paris again?”
Mina chuckled, pushing Imogen toward the sofa before grabbing a book and sitting next to her. Two years ago, Mina had come across an old picture book about Paris, France and had shown it to Imogen on a whim. The young girl had become enamored with the city and decided one day she would live there.
Every chance she got, Mina would squirrel away as much money as possible. Eventually, she would have enough to take them both to France and away from her life as a thief.
They’d just settled down to look at the book when there was a soft knock on the broken door. Mina’s head jerked up at the sound. Beside her, Imogen tensed.
“Stay here,” Mina ordered as she stood and made her way to the door cautiously.
Opening it revealed the man she’d tried to rob earlier and a younger man behind him.
The younger man was cute, in a nerdy way. His light brown hair stood up all over his head, like he’d run his fingers through it repeatedly. He had blue eyes that were all but hidden behind thick-rimmed glasses. He was scowling and Mina instantly disliked him.
Mina hurried to slam the door shut, but the older man had already shoved his foot between the door and the frame, giving him enough room to shoulder his way inside.
“May we come in?” he asked, though he was already making his way into the living room. The younger man quickly followed giving Mina a dismissive glance as he passed her.
Imogen had jumped to her feet when the men had entered and she looked from them to Mina with wide eyes.
“Get out,” Mina growled, gathering her magic to her.
The older man looked around, assessing the house, then faced her. “I apologize for the intrusion. Believe me, I wouldn’t press the matter unless it was important.”
Without waiting for further explanation, Mina darted forward, hand outstretched. Her magic’s biggest weakness was that she had to be touching the thing she wanted to manipulate. If she wanted to cast a spell on herself it was not a problem, but trying it on someone else required stealth.
Or in this case, surprise.
Before she could reach the older man, a blurred shape appeared in front of her. Between one second and the next, she was tumbling through the air, her chest feeling like she’d been hit by a wrecking ball. She crashed into the wall next to the door, sinking down with a groan.
“Isaac!” the older man yelled, hurrying to Mina’s side. “Are you alright?”
It felt like Mina’s brain was rattling around in her skull and when she tried to nod, the world started to spin.
The man ran a hand along Mina’s head, trailing his fingers from the crown of her skull to her forehead. Instantly, her mind was clear and the world righted itself. She looked up at the man, who was smiling at her.
“Better?” he asked.
Mina tried to reevaluate the man before her. His eyes still disarmed her and she felt he knew too much, but he had helped her. Maybe he wasn’t as much of a threat as she’d previously thought. Not that that mattered right now. She wanted both men gone.
The older man had stood up and was yelling at the other, the one he’d called Isaac. Isaac was shaking his right hand, like he’d punched Mina. There was a faint humming around him, like an aura, announcing magic. He hung his head under the verbal attack.
“You could have seriously hurt the poor girl,” the man was saying. “Or her house. Not to mention you’re nowhere near ready to use so much magic. Do you want to pass out like you did when you first came to me?”
“No,” Isaac mumbled, looking away.
With a heavy sigh, as if Isaac were a lost cause, the man turned back to Mina. She’d stood and during the commotion, Imogen had hurried to her side.
“I’m really sorry about that,” he said, actually sounding apologetic. “Isaac can sometimes be impulsive and over protective of me.”
“Who are you?” Mina demanded, keeping Imogen behind her.
“My name is Grayson,” the man said. “I came because I think you might be in danger.”
Mina cocked her head to the side. “What kind of danger?”
Grayson crossed his arms. “I’m assuming you were trying to steal a certain jewel earlier. Is that correct?”
Mina shrugged, unwilling to admit to anything.
“There’s very few people who even know about this jewel, and even less willing to hire someone to do their dirty work. And now that you failed, these people will hunt you down. The less loose ends the better, and they’re willing to kill to keep people from knowing their goals.
“If you’d managed to get the jewel and gave it to them, they would’ve killed you on the spot, but now you’re a threat to them.”
“So you think these guys will come here?” Mina asked.
Grayson nodded solemnly.
Mina snorted. “Let them try. They’ll be in for a big surprise.” When Grayson opened his mouth she continued. “It’s nice that you’re so worried, but I’m stronger than I look. I can handle a few thugs.”
It was Isaac who responded. “You think you’re strong?” He barked out a laugh. “That’s a joke. You’re magic is barely above average and I doubt you can actually hold your own against a decent opponent.”
Mina took a step forward, which Isaac matched. There was something about Isaac, the sound of his voice, which tugged at Mina’s memories. That feeling was buried under the anger building with every word he said. They were seconds away from clawing at each other’s throats when Grayson pulled Isaac back.
“I’m not saying you’re weak, but I don’t think you understand what you’re up against,” he admitted. “If nothing else, you should be concerned for the girl.”
Imogen perked up when she was mentioned. Mina reached back and put a hand on her protectively.
“I can keep ‘the girl’ safe,” she said. “You don’t need to worry about her.”
Grayson started to say something, but before he could there was a loud popping. All of them turned to the doorway, where Mina’s spell work had given out. The pieces of splintered wood fell to the ground. On the other side of the doorway stood a group of six cloaked figures.
“Damn,” Grayson cursed under his breath. “I was hoping it would take them longer to find us.”
As one, the group entered Mina’s home. Grayson met the leader of the group, standing in front of Isaac and Mina. Though he didn’t like her, Isaac stepped in front of Mina, providing another barrier for the cloaked group.
“How good to see you, warlock,” the leader of the group said. It was the same man that Mina had gotten the assignment from. “The thief wasn’t a complete waste after all.”
“Banin,” Grayson said, disgusted. “We both know I don’t have the Jewel. Was this just some sort of game for you?”
The leader, Banin, laughed. “You’re behind on the times. The Jewel has emerged again and the fight to claim it is already underway. No, our goal was to find you, but we didn’t have the ability.” He raised a finger and pointed to Mina. “She does, though.”
Mina started. “So I was just a tool?”
She tried to go forward, but Isaac grabbed her arm.
“Are you insane?” he demanded. “This is between them.”
She glared at him. “Not when they use me. Let me go.”
“Just wait,” Isaac told her. “Let Grayson take care of it.”
“You’ve found me, so now what?” Grayson asked, raising his hands in front of him.
“Now you’ll come with us and help us find all three artifacts,” Banin declared. “And then we’ll be unstoppable.”
Mina had no idea what the two men were talking about. All she wanted was to punch the man in the nose. Isaac’s grip on her arm tightened. Magic itched under her skin, wanting to be released. The thought of unleashing the magic on Isaac crossed her mind, but she dismissed it.
“I can’t let you do that,” Grayson said.
He threw out an arm. Mina had moments to see the yellow light of powerful magic around his arm before it was shot out at Banin like an arrow. The magic hit Banin sending him backward. If Isaac’s magic strike had sent Mina crashing into the wall, this attack was ten times stronger. Banin tumbled head over heels. When he finally hit the wall cracks emerged, spider webbing to the ceiling.
Mina held her breath. It would take a lot of magic to fix the wall, not to mention the door that had been broken again.
For a long moment, Mina wondered if the man was dead. He lay on the floor, face pressed into the carpet, motionless. The entire room was silent, waiting.
When Mina had given up on Banin, he slowly pushed himself up. There was a small pool of blood where his head had been. In the blast, his hood had been pushed back, revealing his face. Mina gasped and Imogen pressed against her back, small hands clutching her shirt.
Banin’s skin was covered in tattoos and scars. There were cuts of various sizes and depths in different stages of healing. One of the cuts on his forehead had started to bleed, red trailing down his cheek. His left eye was a dark brown, but the right was foggy.
“What have you done?” Grayson whispered, in shock at the gruesome appearance.
“We’ve found the way to get magic,” Banin declared, proud. “You said it was impossible, but we’ve proved you wrong.”
The other people pushed back their own hoods to reveal they all were disfigured in the same way. Mina looked from one to the other. She was familiar, too familiar, with how far normal people might go to get magic, but this was too much. Her stomach twisted and rolled and she clamped her mouth tight.
“You’ve messed with black magic,” Grayson said. “All that will do is just hurt you in the end.”
“I don’t care,” Banin admitted. “I’ve got power for the first time, and I’m not going to let you get in the way of that.”
Banin zipped forward. He was surrounded by a black haze. It lifted of him in tendrils, writhing in the air. Mina felt dirty and uncomfortable just seeing it. She released her own magic in an attempt to counter the feeling of Banin’s dark magic.
Banin swung a hand at Grayson’s head, using the magic to lend his punch more momentum. Grayson lifted his arms in an X, blocking the strike. Without missing a beat, Banin spun his leg in a kick, his foot colliding with Grayson’s side.
Grayson let out a pained cry. He recovered quicker than Mina would’ve expected, placing a hand on Banin’s chest. His magic went through Banin’s body, causing the other man to collapse to his feet, shaking.
When Banin had launched toward Grayson, his followers took a moment, but they eventually followed suit, hurling themselves at Isaac and Mina. Isaac lifted his hands, erecting a hasty barrier. Two of the people, a man and a woman, skirted the barrier. The woman, her magic the same serpentine black as Banin’s, turned to Mina.
Without thinking, Mina bent down, placing her hands on the floor. Straining her magic, she forced the ground beneath her to separate, a crack spreading forward. The woman realized what was happening a moment too late. The crack opened under her feet and she fell into the hole. Mina closed the crack just enough to trap the woman, but not kill her, leaving a space for air to enter.
Isaac had dispatched his opponent while Mina had been distracted. He glanced at her with an expression of surprised respect.
“Not bad,” he admitted.
The other people had made their way around the barrier. Mina pointed to them.
“Don’t waste time on compliments,” she ordered. “Help me get rid of these guys.”
Imogen had darted into a corner when the woman had attacked Mina. She held a small pocketknife in front of her that she’d grabbed when Mina wasn’t paying attention. Mina moved to go to her, but one of the intruders appeared in front of her.
Mina growled. “You’ll get out of my way if you know what’s good for you.”
The woman shook her head. Her black magic coalesced at her hands, morphing into two sharp knives. Mina eyed them warily. The woman struck out with one and Mina was barely able to swerve away from the sharp metal.
Mina tried to touch the ground, but the woman had already seen that trick. She stabbed the knives down and Mina pulled her hands back, just avoiding getting a knife through the back of her hand. Instead, she kicked out at the woman’s stomach. The blow knocked the woman back a few feet, but she righted herself.
The woman swung the knives, aiming for Mina’s arms, neck, chest, anything that might incapacitate her. Years of training were the only thing keeping Mina from being sliced to ribbons. It was impossible to touch the woman and cast a spell.
She was so absorbed in staying out of the woman’s reach that she wasn’t able to pay attention to the others. It wasn’t until she heard a high-pitched scream that she glanced away from the knives.
Isaac was preoccupied by his own opponent. The third intruder, another man, had gone to Imogen. He was enormous, six foot tall and built like a linebacker. Imogen’s pocketknife was laying on the ground several yards away from the girl and the man had his hand around her throat. He’d raised her several feet from the ground, her tiny bare feet dangled helplessly.
“Imogen!” Mina cried. She turned to run to the girl, but a sharp pain in her arm brought her attention back to the woman and her knives.
Her sleeve was cut, red staining the cloth. Her arm felt like it was on fire, but she pushed the pain aside. When the woman brought the knife down, aiming at Mina’s head, she reached up, grabbing the blade.
The sharp edge cut into her palm. She bit down on her lip until she tasted blood, but she refused to let go of the knife. The woman’s eyes went big and she hesitated, unsure how to respond to Mina’s action. That moment was all Mina needed.
She raised her other hand, slamming it on the woman’s forehead. Her magic shot through her, edged on by her anger and pain. The woman stared at Mina. Her eyes were a rich green and at one time she might’ve been beautiful. Now her brown hair was ragged and dirty and there were shadows under her eyes.
Mina felt no sympathy toward the woman, instead causing spasms of pain to run through the intruder’s body. The woman’s tattoos contorted as her face twisted in agony. When the woman dropped to the ground, unconscious, Mina stopped the pain. The woman wouldn’t hurt when she woke, but she would remember, the memory a warning.
She turned quickly, running for Imogen. The girl was clawing at the man’s hand around her throat, her face starting to change color. Mina jumped on the man’s back, wrapping her arms around his neck. She squeezed tight, her hand spread across his face. It took a breathless moment before her sleeping spell went to work. The man’s grip on Imogen loosened. He fell back and Mina sprang off him, grabbing Imogen and holding her close.
Isaac, finished with the last of their attackers, came to stand next to them.
“Impressive,” he admitted. There was a hint of admiration in his voice.
“Thanks, four-eyes,” Mina taunted, poking his forehead above his glasses.
His expression changed from respect to the anger that Mina had already learned to associate with him.
On the other side of the barrier, Grayson was standing over Banin. They were both cut up and bruised, breathing heavily. While Mina had been dealing with her own fights, they’d destroyed most of the living room.
“Just stop,” Grayson said, tired. “This is pointless.”
Banin looked to Mina and Isaac, who had moved to stand next to Grayson, seeing that he was the only one still awake. He glared at everyone around him. With great effort, Banin pushed up.
“You think you’ve won,” he said, mostly to himself than to Grayson. “But you’re wrong. I’m not stopping because of a little setback. I’m just going to keep getting more power and when we meet again, you’ll be the one begging for mercy.”
Before any of them could move, Banin raised his hood and put his hand on the ground like Mina had when she created the crack. Instead of the ground separating, Banin sank into it. He disappeared without a sound, the remnants of his twisting black magic evaporating into the air.
Grayson moved his head, tension tightening his shoulders. “That could’ve gone better.”
“We should go back home,” Isaac said. “We need to track him down.”
“Later,” Grayson replied. “I have a feeling a tracking spell won’t help us right now.”
Mina stomped in front of the two men, hands on her hips. “You’re not leaving yet. You’re going to tell me what the hell just happened.”
“It’s a long story.” Grayson ran a hand through his hair.
“Give me the Spark Notes version.” Mina stood her ground, determined to get answers.
Grayson thought for a moment, his hand on his chin. “There’s three very powerful artifacts. They were all thought lost, but I guess one of them was found recently.”
“And why did that guy want to find you?” Mina asked.
“I’m a very strong warlock.” Grayson shrugged. “Banin’s always wanted magic and power, but I refused to teach him. Some people just can’t handle magic. As you can see, he didn’t take no very well and decided to learn magic using dark means.”
Mina gaped at Grayson. “So you’re telling me I was used to find you and Imogen and I were attacked just because the guy was miffed by your rejection?”
Imogen had bounced back from the attack, but there were angry marks around her throat.
“It appears that way.” Grayson nodded.
“He’s a good teacher,” Isaac put in like that was a decent explanation. Mina glared at him before turning back to Grayson.
“That’s crap,” she declared. “What happens if Banin decides to come back here?”
“I’m sure he will,” Grayson admitted. “He has a single-minded determination to finish what he starts.” Grayson smiled. “That’s why I was going to suggest you and the girl come with us.”
Mina opened her mouth, then her mind caught up with what the man had said. “You want us to go with you? Why?”
“You’re a strong magic-user.” Grayson was matter-of-fact, serious. “But you have a lot of room for improvement. I’d like to help you. And it would be good for Imogen to get out of here.”
“What’s wrong with being here?” Mina demanded crossly. She knew they weren’t living in ideal conditions, but it had worked for years.
“She’s a young girl,” Grayson pointed out. “Do you really want to be gone and have something happen to her, magical or otherwise?”
Mina found she couldn’t argue, however much she might want to. She looked at Imogen. The girl seemed impassive, but Mina could see the light in her eyes. To the girl, this was just another adventure. And, Mina admitted to herself, she wasn’t as good a guardian as she wanted to be. The marks around her neck confirmed what Mina suspected.
“Fine,” she said. “We’ll go with you for now. When I get what I need to protect Imogen, we’re leaving.” She pointed a finger at Grayson. “Got it? It’s not permanent.”
Grayson tried unsuccessfully to hide his grin. “Understandable. It’s agreed.”
He made his way through the empty doorway. Isaac hurried to the man’s side. He talked low, looking back to Mina every now and then. Grayson just laughed, putting a hand on Isaac’s shoulder and saying something in response.
Mina took Imogen’s hand. When Isaac looked back at her again, she gave him a little wave with her fingers and a smirk. He scowled and looked away. Mina smiled to herself. She followed the two men, Imogen at her side.
This change might be more interesting than she expected.

THE END

 

 

 

Brittany Ellis is currently a graduate student of Professional Writing at the University of Oklahoma. She was the first undergrad to graduate with a Professional Writing minor and has been creating fantasy worlds since she was a child.