Spellbound (the Spellbound Series Book 1) (13 page)

Despite concentrating as hard as I can on pulling myself from the dream, when I open my eyes, I’m still in my room. It seems I’m gonna have to wake myself up manually. I tear out of my room, run right past the kitchen without looking in, and down the hallway to the stairwell. Whoever is influencing the dream must have realized that I’ve caught on, because the door won’t open until I blast it off the hinges with a spell. I take the stairs upward two at a time, until I make it onto the roof. The ground shifts and sways under my feet, but I sprint towards the edge of the roof, and leap, praying that I won’t feel the impact as gravity takes over, and I plunge to the ground.

When I open my eyes again, I’m laying on the ground face-first, and feeling groggy. Though my vision is still blurry, I can just make out Alyssa’s form to my right. As everything comes into focus, I notice that her cheeks are surprisingly stained with tears, and her fists are clenching and unclenching repeatedly as she sleeps. We seem to have been moved from our spot by the stream; rather than grass and dry leaves, I find myself lying on a bed of smooth rocks and twigs. We’re surrounded on all sides by frighteningly high walls made of some dark gray stone, except for an opening above us, and an exit that leads to steps made of a similar material. The strange man from earlier sits cross-legged a few feet from where we lie, with his eyes closed and his hands folded together. The top half of his robe is undone, and white skeletal wings protrude from his back, fully unfurled and held perfectly still, despite the warm breeze blowing by.

It seems he doesn’t notice that I’ve woken up, so I creep as close to him as I dare, and try to think of ways to wake up the others. One violent option comes to mind very quickly, and since this man made me watch my boyfriend and my best friend basically defile my kitchen with my mother’s dead body in the room, I don’t consider any of my more subtle options. I get a little closer, then raise my right foot and kick him as hard as I can in the face. He falls over backwards, his eyes snap open, as do everyone else’s, and he asks calmly, “What was that for?”

“For fucking with my mind, you freak! What’s wrong with you?”

“I didn’t do much, actually.” The man wipes a trickle of blood dripping from his nose, and says, “All I did was put you to sleep, then take what your unconscious mind holds dear, and turn everything you love into your worst nightmare.” There’s a ring of truth to his story, so I refrain from kicking him while he’s down, as I had been planning to do. Then, the next words out of his mouth rekindle that temptation. “You should be thanking me.”

“Why the hell should I thank you?”

The man pushes himself back up into a sitting position, and says, “I find that to know yourself is to know what it takes to break you.”

“I’m missing how that’s relevant to my question.”

“You’ll see someday. For the moment, you need only understand that you’ve passed, albeit in an unconventional way.”

“So, wait… This was a test?”

“That’s right.”

I’m so upset that I’m shaking, and visibly so. This man honestly thinks he can get away with toying around with my mind... and for the sake of his sadistic test? No, I’m anything but okay. The images of Nick and Rachel pressed together won’t leave me for a long time. I intend to make this man suffer for what he’s done. I go to kick him again, but he grabs my foot before it can make contact, and flips me over onto my back with ease. I get the sense that fighting him won’t end well for me, so I roll over, pull myself upright, and back away. “This isn’t over,” I mutter. “If we ever meet again, you’d better be ready for a fight.”

“You really should watch your temper, Heather.” The man folds his wings, and rearranges his robe so that it’s covering his chest again. He watches me curiously, and says, “In all my years testing the spirits of young spellcasters, none have ever slipped from under my spell. I’m impressed… so much so that I’m willing to offer help with the next trial.”

“Help how?”

“A clue, to speed along the process. One member of your group was more deeply wounded by this trial than the others. When they divulge why, the quickest path ahead will be revealed.” The man turns to walk away, and with every step, he becomes more and more transparent until there’s nothing left to see.

I stare at the spot where he once was for a while, half-expecting him to come back, but he never does. I’m still fuming when I turn back to face Alyssa and the others, who are all looking up at me in shock. When none of them say anything, I ask, “The hell are you guys looking at me like that for?”

Jasira’s the one who says, “You just kicked a god.”

“What?”

“I could be wrong, but I’m pretty sure that was Morpheus.”

Ryan scratches his head, and asks, “Who?”

“Morpheus… ancient Greek god of dreams?” Jasira looks around at the rest of us like we’re insane. “Am I the only one who took a Mythology class?”

“Wait a minute, we’re up against gods?” Ryan clambers to his feet, and wipes some dried leaves and dirt off of his jeans. “No way, that’s impossible.”

“Impossible doesn’t seem to be a word that people here understand.”

While I’m inclined to agree with Jasira, I can’t wrap my head around the idea that there are gods wandering around this place… wherever we are. It occurs to me that the Guardians may be gods themselves. There are more pressing issues to be dealt with, though. “How are we going to find the Guardians now?,” I wonder out loud. “Following the stream was our best shot.”

“I was just thinking that, actually,” Ryan says. “Any ideas, you two?”

Alyssa remains silent, as she has since she’s woken up, but Jasira apparently has a plan. “I think we ought to try and find any source of fresh water before we worry about the Guardians. We can last a while without food, but without water we’re screwed.”

“Oh, that’s a brilliant idea. And in exactly which direction do you expect to find water?”

Jasira just shrugs, and says, “There’s only one direction to go in right now, let’s give that one a shot.” And with that, she heads towards the exit, and starts making her way up the stone stairs. Alyssa pauses for a moment, and takes a good, long look at me before following Jasira.

I start to follow her as well, but Ryan grabs my arm and holds me back. I give him a questioning look, but he keeps his eyes trained on the ground. He seems to be making up his mind about something. When he finally speaks, he says, “I’m sorry about earlier… the whole fire thing. I got carried away. I just… there’s a lot more at stake here for me than any of you, but that doesn’t excuse me acting like a jackass. So… yeah, I’m sorry, Heather.”

I’m surprised and impressed that Ryan actually has the humility to apologize to me. Not so impressed that I’ll automatically let him off the hook, though. I catch him off-guard with a punch to the gut, and when he doubles over, I mutter, “Apology accepted,” and make my way towards the exit.

The stone steps go up higher than I expected; I’m climbing for a long time, and even though I’m in pretty good shape, I’m panting by the time I reach the top. Jasira and Alyssa are standing fairly close by, staring out into the vast expanse of sand before us. There’s nothing but sand as far as the eye can see in every direction, and the sun glaring overhead. The four of us stand in a line, just staring into the distance. Then, Ryan mutters, “Any chance we can turn back?”

That gets a weak laugh out of everyone, and I’m actually very tempted by the thought. I don’t do very well in intense heat, so I’m pretty sure the desert will be the death of me. I actually turn back to see if there’s a way to go back the way we came, but when we weren’t looking, the stone steps somehow disappeared. There’s no way back, and none of us even knows which way is forward. The only thing I’m sure of is that until this point, we’ve had it easy.

Chapter 15

Saying the desert is hot is as much a gross understatement as saying that Hitler was bad, or that breaking a bone sucks. Every inch of my body feels like it’s on fire, and yet, at the same time, I’m constantly aware that my entire being is drenched in sweat. I envy Ryan, who decided to take his shirt off an hour after we started walking, but since he’s around, I’m a little too shy to do the same. Though I’d normally be miserable under these conditions, getting to see the fist-sized bruise forming on his flabby stomach almost makes up for the sweltering heat.

It’s hard to tell if we’re actually making progress, because A) we just picked a random direction and started walking in it, B) every sand dune looks exactly the freaking same, and that combined with C) the fact that the wind blows our footprints away means we can’t tell if we’re walking in circles or not. The only thing anyone knows for sure is that we’re all hungry, thirsty, and tired. Unsurprisingly, Ryan is the first of us to start complaining.

Ryan: “Why’d it have to be a desert? Why couldn’t we have had to cross a meadow full of apple trees or something?”

Jasira: “I don’t know. Maybe God hates us?”

Ryan: “Maybe. I know if he loved us, he’d at least give us some water.”

Jasira: “Will you stop complaining? It’s a waste of energy. Just try to focus on walking.”

Ryan: “To where? I haven’t a bloody clue as to where we’re headed, and I want something to eat
now
.”

Jasira: “Me too, but now’s not the time to-“

Ryan: “You know what? As soon as I get home, I’m heading to the chipper by my old school. They’ll fix me a proper meal.”

Me: “Chipper? What’s that?”

Ryan: “A shop where they sell fish and chips, obviously.”

Me: “That does sound good.”

Jasira: “Yeah. Or a cheeseburger, I haven’t had one in a long time.”

Me: “Hells yes! A burger and fries sounds perfect right now.”

Jasira: “God, I hate this. I’m starving.”

Alyssa: “Will you all shut up?!”

We stop in our tracks, and turn to face Alyssa, who has been lagging behind for a while. This is the first time she’s said a word since the incident with Morpheus. Somehow, I don’t think her anger is entirely directed at us; her golden eyes aren’t quite trained on me, but staring through me, filled with the kind of quiet fury that takes years to build up. “I doubt that any of you know what starving to death really feels like,” she says, “so either shut up or I’ll shove my fist down your throats one by one.”

Jasira and Ryan share a look, and then continue walking, but I stay for a moment, and ask, “What’s up with you? You’ve been acting weird ever since you woke up.” Alyssa’s locked herself up inside her head again, though, and walks by me without answering. Her attitude is starting to irritate me, but I don’t say anything. I just let out a sigh, and make a point of walking faster than her to catch up to the others.

We continue wandering aimlessly through the desert until the sun dips beneath the horizon, then come to rest in a small ditch between two towering dunes. The temperature has dropped by a surprisingly large amount; it’s just cold enough that I’m tempted to start a campfire, but I’m not yet motivated to do so. Each of us is exhausted in ways that we never thought imaginable, and though none of us says it aloud, the constant pangs of hunger and thirst are agonizing. I offer to take the first watch, since I know that for now, my fatigue is slightly more manageable than the amount of pain I’m in. The others pick different spots around the ditch, and drift easily off to sleep, while I sit cross-legged in the sand and try to come up with ways to pass the time.

Everything is completely silent, save for the steady breathing of those asleep, and the occasional gust of wind. I’m finally relaxed enough to review the past twenty or so hours. It occurs to me that I’m probably not very popular with the others. To an outsider, I probably seem pretty stupid and volatile; between accidentally starting the forest fire, kicking the crap out of what we suspect to be a god, and assaulting Ryan when he was offering a sincere apology, it seems illogical that any of my fellow spellcasters would want anything to do with me. I’ve never had a problem controlling my temper before now. Sure, I get angry once in a while, but never to the point where I’ll get violent. I chalk it up to the stress of being stranded God-knows-where with people I hardly know and danger around every corner.

I wonder how the heroes in books and movies deal with this sort of stress, before realizing that for the most part, they don’t. Hell, they usually don’t even show signs of fatigue. The adventure just continues, on and on, until the bad guy (or, in a few rare cases, the good guy) gets killed. I feel weak by comparison, but whether it’s because I actually am weak, or because I don’t live in a world where energy is infinite, I can’t tell. All I know is that I would desperately like a meal, a drink, and a comfortable bed. Preferably a bed where Nick is waiting for me, so I can find my special spot on his chest, lock my fingers around his, and sleep.

I shake my head, and try to keep my mind trained on the present. What I need more than anything right now is water. My tongue no longer feels like a tongue, but a rough, swollen strip of flesh that someone swapped out for the one I used to own. My head is pounding, and making it difficult to think straight. There has to be a way to find water here, I know it! I could try to change the sand into water, but even if Krystal had taught me how to do something like that, it would probably require too much energy just to make a puddle.

Another option comes to mind, and I’m immediately tempted to give it a shot. I read about it in a book a few years ago; the hero was traversing the desert, desperately thirsty, as I am. His solution was to draw moisture from an underground source, and bring it to the surface. I start out the same way he did, by digging in the sand until I have a small bowl to fill. Then, I focus my energy on pulling water up to the surface. After a minute or so of effort, I give up, and wipe the new layer of seat from my forehead. It was worth a shot.

“Not a bad idea, but there needs to actually be water underneath us for that to work.” Alyssa’s voice makes me jump, and I turn to find her hovering over my shoulder. She sits down next to me, and says, “I couldn’t sleep.”