Magi Saga 1: Epic Calling (14 page)

A couple of pieces of the puzzle suddenly fell into place. The alleyway, her first use of Magic during the attack by that, thing, and suddenly, the thought of the monster didn’t seem quite so mad any more. Were monsters real she wondered? Also, some of her lucky breaks made sense, such as her successful escape from the orphanage and jumping ship to New York, or her finding Howie or the one friendly and gentle Pimp in Manhattan.

‘With good fortune, experienced Magi find new Magi and train him or her in Magic,’ Gentle Water continued. ‘Hopefully teacher be like me, and not one of other groups.’

‘Groups? So, there are lots of Magi in the world?’

‘Estimate about fifteen thousand, with three groups, Arcadians, Nomads and Inquisition. I am Arcadian, which is biggest group.’

‘I take it you’re the good guys?’ Amanda said.

‘We think so, but others think differently. Nomads are next biggest, they serve and worship, dark gods. They cause pain and suffering, believing themselves above the Riven who deserve to be only slaves, if lucky.’

‘The Riven?’ Amanda asked.

‘People who cannot use Magic, non-Magi, also called Mundanes or Mortals. Riven means separated, as in separated from Magic. Next is the Inquisition, these Magi believe their power come from God, that it is divine energy, not Magic. Inquisition numbers small, but are part of Vatican, so have huge recourses. They are called Disciples of the Cross, formed two thousand years ago by their founder, the Disciple Peter.

‘Arcadians and Nomads are far older, here since before ancient Egypt, many thousands of years, and always at war. Inquisition says Arcadians and Nomads are same, and fights both.’

‘Right, hang on, this is getting complicated already. So, there’s Magi and Magic in the world, and there’s three main groups, the Arcadians, Nomads and the Inquisition,’ said Amanda, thinking things through.

‘Correct,’ Gentle Water answered.

‘The Nomads are the real bad guys, and they worship some gods did you say?’

‘Dark and evil gods, but I tell you more about them later.’

Amanda thought for a second before asking, ‘Do the Arcadians believe in a god?’

Gentle Water smiled at his apprentice, ‘No, we do not, usually. Also, do not confuse Christian god with Nomad gods. Nomad Gods, the Archons, are just very powerful creatures who use Magic at level way above Magi. They didn’t create the Earth, but they very real, not like Christians fiction.’

‘Fiction?’ Amanda said, raising her eyebrows.

‘Magi can live for long time, so, when you know Magi who alive before the Christian god was invented, belief in their god becomes difficult.’

‘Magi can live for that long?’ Amanda asked, shocked.

‘Longer,’ Gentle Water said, ‘if grow powerful enough. Some, like myself, have normal mortal life, some very long lived and some are Immortal.’

‘Wow,’ Amanda said, in awe of the thought of it. She sat back and thought for a moment, this was incredible, if it was all true. Suddenly she thought of something, and looked back at Gentle Water. ‘Hang on, now, if we’re this powerful and long lived, how come we hide? Why don’t we just rule the world? The, what did you call them, the Riven, the Mundanes, they couldn’t stop us.’

‘I’m sure Nomads would love to rule world, and I sure there will be Arcadian Magi who think same thing. But, most don’t want burden of rule, and history tells us what Mortals would do if they know about us.’

Amanda frowned, ‘Ah now, no it doesn’t, when have Magi ever been hunted…’ She paused for a moment, as a thought occurred to her.

Gentle Water smiled and nodded, ‘Now you know.’

‘You mean the Witch Hunts, the Inquisition?’

‘Yes. If Riven know of us, they hunt us down, perhaps helped by Inquisition, as before. Magi still only human, we can die, we are not invincible.’

‘So the world is oblivious to our presence at the moment, but what if one saw some Magi doing Magic?’

‘It happen, probably a lot. But, the Riven tend to ignore, shut out or explain away things they don’t understand, like Magic. Even if it right in front of them.’

‘So Mundanes have never discovered anything to do with Magic?’

‘Actually, they have. Magic is fuelled by Essentia. An energy that fuels life and Magic and I think you have seen it. A glowing mist hanging in air?’

‘Yes! I have, it’s gold coloured.’

‘Every Magi sees different colour, to me it is jade green, to you it is gold.’

‘So, are you saying that the Riven know about this Ess…Essenet….?’

‘Essentia. Yes, sort of, let me explain. In dark ages, in alchemical science it was called Aether or Ether. Aristotle had it as fifth element with earth, air, fire and water. A Hindu would call it Akasha, Hindu gods use it to create elements. In Plato’s Platonic Solids this fifth element, Ather or Quintessence, is a Dodecahedron. In Astrophysics it is Dark Matter or Quintessence. Quinta Essentia, the fifth element.’

‘Heh, so Bruce Willis was right,’ Amanda said to herself.

‘Sorry?’ Gentle Water asked, a little confused.

‘Nothing,’ said Amanda, dismissing it.

‘There is much more for you to discover yet.’

‘Oh, I’m sure.  So, who taught you Magic then?’

‘My mentor, Graceful Pheonix, she taught me both Magic and her own Martial Art form called Art of Pheonix, which I teach you.’

‘And, can I meet your mentor?’ Amanda asked.

‘One day, you will.’

‘Ok, cool. Um…there’s one more thing I’d like to know about if you don’t mind.’

‘Please, ask,’ said Gentle Water.

‘Well, I was attacked recently, in New York, by a… thing. I have no idea what it was, but it wasn’t human. I think I killed it…with lightening…’ She turned her hands over before her, remembering the feeling of all that energy.

‘Ah yes. Well, technically it was human, but one that has been changed. That was Scion by the name of Horlack.’

‘A Scion?’ Amanda asked.

‘Yes, creatures created by Magic. The first ones were created by the Archons, Millennia ago, but they can pass their “gift” on to others by themselves. They usually serve same masters as Nomads and are often bitter, twisted and evil creatures. But a few are different and a very small number are considered friends of the Arcadians.’

‘So the one that attacked me was called Horlack?’

‘Yes. An ancient Scion, very powerful. We are glad he is gone.’

Amanda smiled, ‘My pleasure.’

The earliest known record of Yasmin the Dark comes from the legend of Red Yasmin in northern Italy around 900 years ago. An eyewitness reported seeing Yasmin, a known local girl of about 13 years, walk through the town in the dead of night, covered head to toe in blood. She was never seen again after that, but her parents and three brothers were found mutilated in their family home, their chests cut open and their hearts ripped out. A set of bloody footprints, clearly those of a child, led out of the house and into the night. It was said that Yasmin was beaten and abused as a child, and the villagers distrusted the family due to their violent ways, many locals thought they had received their just deserts. The hearts of Yasmin’s family were never found.

-
From ‘A history of the Dark Nomads’, by Trevelyan

The Visit

Lake Como, Italy

Early September

It looked like it would be a warm day, a day she would have relished normally, a day she would have been out on the lake, enjoying the cool air and the warmth of the sun on her body as the boat skimmed over the waves. One of life’s little pleasures, ripped from her own life by the appearance of the nightmare in human form that lay in the sunken bath just a few feet from her.

It had been weeks now since this Yasmin had crashed into their lives and turned their holiday home into a hell house.

She had no idea what Yasmin might be, but the things she was capable of were just wrong, unnatural and downright terrifying.

The night of her arrival had been seared into Janet’s mind, and, she feared, would never be gone, if she lived through this. They had been having their usual evening meal, all four of them round the table, enjoying the conversation and food when she suddenly appeared out of nowhere. Literally, one moment there were four of them, the next second a black clad woman was stood in the middle of their kitchen.

The few minutes that followed Yasmin’s arrival were both compelling and horrific. She didn’t want to remember the blood and chaos this intruder had unleashed upon them, but she couldn’t help it. The scene played out for her in crisp detail every time she closed her eyes. The screams, the wailing and the way her children begged for their mummy and daddy to help them. It never failed to make her knees feel like buckling sending her sprawling to the floor, waling against the injustice as she did so.

That had been the last time she had seen her children, although she had heard them since. They were in the house somewhere, kept hidden from her by Yasmin and used as leverage to get her to do as Yasmin said.

Her husband, a high flying American business man had fared worse. He had fought Yasmin, he wouldn’t submit willingly like Janet, and he had paid the price.

Yasmin had had her fun with him before finally putting him out of his misery. He lay in Janet’s bed now, slowly decomposing as the days passed by. When Yasmin allowed her to sleep, she had to share the room with his body, the smell had become almost unbearable.

Yasmin lay naked in the bath, her long raven black hair framing her head like a lions main, her eyes closed as the surface of the warm water played about her chin.

Naked as well, Janet stood the way Yasmin demanded of her. Feet together, shoulders back, head down, like a good little servant. As she watched, an expression of boredom played across Yasmin’s face. She moved slightly and suddenly Janet’s stomach felt like it had passed over a hump back bridge. As it did so, Yasmin disappeared from the bath, she flickered from the water to standing by the edge of the tub, dripping water over the tiled floor. It was as if she had stood up and walked out, but someone had removed the middle section. Janet had concluded it must some kind of Magic a long time ago. The sinking feeling and the impression that there was something wrong with the world, with reality, always accompanied any Magic Yasmin did, she didn’t know why, it was just another little mystery.

Yasmin walked out of the open wooden doors to the balcony that overlooked the lake below. Boats moved lazily over its glistening surface while the misty peaks of the Bergamo Alps rose up beyond. It was an area of intense natural beauty, an area where the rich and famous kept their villas and holiday homes.

Janet wondered what Yasmin might be thinking as she watched people go about their business in the outside world. She seemed to hold normal people in complete contempt, seeing them as little more than playthings, annoyances that were only occasionally useful. Janet imagined that Yasmin’s thoughts were filled with world domination, but she would never know. This creature, this woman was a mystery.

Janet couldn’t help but feel a pang of jealousy at the figure of Yasmin. Lithe and fit, and in great shape with a figure any woman would be proud of. Somehow though, Yasmin’s curves gave the impression of straight lines and angles, there was an edge to her that no amount of beauty could take away. Yasmin’s cheek bones were high and defined, her lips had a pout to them and her low and cruel looking eye brows were perfectly shaped.

There was something else about Yasmin though, something you couldn’t actually see, it was more of an impression you got, something behind the eyes, hidden, but clearly visible. She had an air of experience about her, a cruelty, and a knowing wisdom of someone who had seen things and done things that no one should do or see. It was disturbing to look into Yasmin’s eyes for too long. She had what LA gangsters called a mad dog stare, something you only got though years of violence on the streets. But Yasmin’s stare was one that Janet believed would send any hardened gangster screaming into the night.

Yasmin sat in the wicker chair out on the balcony and crossed her legs, seemingly content for the moment. Across from her, a clock chimed seven in the morning, the sun was still very low, but it had already started to heat up the air, it would be a warm day. After a few moments, Yasmin wiggled her feet and wrinkled her nose.

‘Pleb?’ Yasmin called.

‘Yes mistress?’ Janet answered, in the alert sing song voice that meant Yasmin wouldn’t hurt her.

‘Lick my feet clean, the dirt irritates me.’

Her stomach immediately tied itself into a knot so tight it felt painful, she struggled to keep the pain and revulsion off her face, knowing that if Yasmin saw such an expression she would be punished for it.

She lowered herself to the floor before Yasmin, took one of her feet and dutifully started to lick the dust and dirt covered foot clean.

She hadn’t been working on the foot long when it felt like the world tipped to one side. Like a kind of dizziness as if the worlds gravity suddenly shifted and down was now slightly sideways. It lasted for barely a second, but it was enough to make her put one hand down to steady herself. Several feet away, where there had been no-one only moments before, there now stood an ominous looking woman.

It was Keziah, someone who seemed to serve Yasmin and who had the same freakish powers that Yasmin did. Kez’s appearance always unnerved Janet. Her almost angular face, her over-sized yellow cats eyes, and the two parallel vertical scars that ran from her hair line to her jaw, through her eyes, made it look like her head would split into three. Then there were the volumous rags she wore that covered what seemed to be an oddly shaped inhuman body, the whole way that she moved seemed alien to Janet. The first time she had seen Kez she had thrown up, something which had amused Yasmin no end. Kez glided across the floor towards where Yasmin sat on the balcony, she stopped short of the sunlight that came streaming into the house, keeping to the shade. The whole way that she moved un-nerved Janet, Kez didn’t seem to take steps, it was as though she were hovering on a bed of air, an illusion that was only broken by the insect like ‘tak, tak, tak, tak, tak,’ sound of what must be Kez’ feet on the tiled floor.

On seeing who it was though, Janet turned away and continued her work.

‘My beloved Kez, to what do I owe the visit today?’ asked Yasmin.

‘My Baal have news from the Vatican.’

‘Indeed.’ Her voice sounded even, bored almost. ‘Is it important?’

‘I believe so.’

Yasmin pulled her foot from Janet’s hand, Janet looked up, just in time to see Yasmin’s heel as it slammed into her nose.

She heard a sickening crunch as her nose broke, blood filled her nostrils as pain and dizziness overcame her. She whimpered at the pain while trying to remain silent, not wanting to attract Yasmin’s wrath.

‘You have served me well,’ Yasmin said. Janet looked up and realised Yasmin was addressing her, she stopped making noises and listened, shocked at being addressed in such a direct and conversational manner, something Yasmin had never done before. ‘Don’t be upset, few have the honour of serving as a distraction such as you have. Your husband was useful as well, while he lived. I hope you enjoyed having him in your bed since then. At least you had someone to listen to your insipid moaning about your missing children. I can tell you now they have been chained up in the cellar this whole time. They died rather unspectacularly…’

Dead? Her children were dead? This whole time she had believed they were alive, that they might get through this, that they might have a life together once Yasmin grew bored and moved on.

Rage and pure unadulterated hatred flooded through her body. Without really thinking about it, she launched herself at Yasmin, screaming as she did so.

For a brief second there seemed to be a siren going off inside her head with an accompanying intense pressure.

Then there was nothing.

Kez watched the woman’s head exploded in a shower of brain, gore and bits of skull, her body dropping to the floor with a thud and blood oozing out the exposed neck.

‘…Unlike you,’ Yasmin finished, as the surge of energy from her Magical attack died down.

Yasmin’s Magic flared once again and a dark mist swirled briefly about her naked body. As it faded away, it took the gore with it, leaving her dry and looking as if she had been through a makeover. She now stood before Kez in a body hugging shiny black cat suit with stiletto heels that may as well have been a second skin it looked so tight.

‘The Vatican you say?’ Said Yasmin.

‘That is correct Mistress, its Raphaella Tanzi, she has news of importance. She’s in the usual room.’

‘Kez, have someone come here and clean this place up will you?’

Kez concentrated for a second. ‘Done,’ she said.

‘Then I will see you shortly.’

Kez nodded to her master in agreement.

There was a double whip crack then as they both Ported away from the villa.

Raphaella sat with her knees crossed at the small circular table in the corner of the room, her nuns habit spread about her, she had pulled its hem up over her knees to air off her legs. Beneath the conservative outer garment she wore black lacy lingerie, fish net stockings and suspenders were clearly visible over her smooth tanned legs. Her manicured nails tapped out a rhythm on the wooden table as she glanced at the clock, just after seven in the morning, she wouldn’t be long now.

At that moment she felt the rush of Essentia as the air snapped before her, and Yasmin appeared in her black form fitting cat suit, a dark mist like energy surrounding her like a cloak spilled over the carpeted floor.

‘My mistress, it is good to see you again,’ she said as she sank to her knees before Yasmin.

‘And you Raphaella, your service to me has always been exemplary, your work does not go unnoticed.’

‘That is good to hear, and I bring news to you of something which I think you will find interesting.’

Yasmin walked a short distance to stand by the window, she looked out over Rome and the Vatican a few short streets away. ‘Continue.’

‘You asked me to inform you about any information relating to the release of the Scion from its prison in Egypt, I believe I have some information about him for you. I acquired a report from one of my contacts within the Inquisition that they recently sent an Inquisitor from the Vatican to New York to look into a report of an attack there. The report is from a woman who saw, in her words, “a Black Demon”, which she described as at least twice the height of a man and having a huge horn on its head that attacked a Prostitute on the streets of Manhattan. The attacked happened in an alleyway in one of the Red Light districts there.’

Raphaella magically sent over the boring details such as the alleyways location to Yasmin’s mind telepathically. Her Magic reaching out to Yasmin, offering the information.

Yasmin responded in kind, letting Raphaella’s magic temporarily through her Aegis for the barest of moments to allow that exchange of information before Yasmin shut down the link and Raphaella continued talking.

‘The prostitute is described as being in her late teens, slim, athletic and buxom with long red hair. This girl was pulled from the street and attacked. Her Pimp, who ran after her, was killed by the Demon before the girl shot lightning from her hands and destroyed the beast, vaporising it. It’s clear the Inquisitors are taking this seriously if they sent someone from the Vatican rather than a local agent in the states, I believe this agent has been in New York for a short time already now.’

Raphaella had honed her perceptions over the years, she had learnt to catch the smallest reaction and read its meaning. As she had gone through her explanation she had noticed Yasmin's slight reaction to the description of the red haired girl. Yasmin, who hardly ever showed her true emotions, especially not to another Magi, had flicked her eyes from the cityscape outside the window to looking slightly more towards where Raphaella sat. The description had clearly surprised Yasmin and had also taken hold of her complete attention. Inwardly Raphaella smiled, this would only increase Yasmin’s faith in her and her abilities.

On finishing the description, Yasmin glanced directly at Raphaella, and an unspoken understanding passed between them. Raphaella had given Yasmin an important piece of information, and they both knew it.

Yasmin turned to Raphaella and walked over to her. Raphaella stood to meet her mistress, her nuns habit falling to full length as she did. Yasmin placed her hand on Raphaella’s cheek, leant in and kissed her on the lips. ‘Thank you Raphaella, you have done exceptionally well. I will make sure to reward you, but for now I need to follow this up.’