Reckoning

By Guy Estes

They killed the witch’s parents. They killed the witch’s teachers. But they failed to kill the witch herself.

Religious zealots want to exterminate magic and hunt down talented magic users like Baezha. A group of sorcerers dedicated to destructive magic consider her a dangerous rival and want her dead. Both factions got magic and sorcerers outlawed in her hometown. And in their efforts to get Baezha, they killed everyone she loved and drove her away.

Now Baezha has returned. Crippled by guilt and fighting a two-front war in a city that has made her very existence a crime, Baezha has but one ally, her adoptive sister, Aleena, who is as powerful in war as Baezha is in magic. With Aleena’s help, can Baezha bring a reckoning to the evil that destroyed her world? Or will that evil finally destroy her?

Though listed as Book 2, this is a stand-alone novel.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Guy Estes
• Release date: Dec 11, 2021
• ISBN: 9781005426774

Guy Estes

Guy Estes was born in Huntsville, Alabama in 1970 and grew up on his family's ancestral home in New Iberia, Louisiana, where he currently resides with his family. His grandchildren are the eighth generation of his family to grow up on the place, which was occupied by Union troops during the Civil War. He has a BA in social studies education and an MA in European history. His day job is an instructor at a small safety consultation company. He taught public school for three years and, as a result, no longer fears hell.

Book preview

RECKONING

Book 2 of Sister of the Storm

By Guy Estes

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2017 Guy Estes

Chapter 1

They have us surrounded, Baezha said.

Again? Aleena replied with an exasperated sigh.

Yes.

Aleena gave her head a quick shake.

Poor bastards.

Aleena and Baezha looked around as the Drahn Vor outlaw band closed in about them. Baezha’s black hair and eyes matched her enchanted armor. She had a black recurve bow and a black sword slung on her back. Honey blonde hair crowned Aleena, her storm cloud eyes flashing as she glared at her enemies. She, too, wore custom armor, the color of her eyes, her sword in her hands and her axe slung on her back. They stood in an open meadow on a windy, overcast day, encircled by twelve figures. That circle shrank as the figures closed in on them.

They don’t seem amused, Aleena said.

Can you blame them? Baezha replied. Before they met us they were better than twice as many.

You’d think that would tell them we’re not to be trifled with.

And yet, they don’t seem to realize how much trouble they’re in.

Obviously fear has driven them mad and they’re not thinking clearly.

Some of the dozen outlaws bore arms and armor. Others appeared to be unarmed and wore simple clothing, but they bore staffs or wore pendants, circlets or rings that glowed with magical power.

Baezha drew on the magical power within her, an action as natural to her as flexing a muscle. Bright flashes of aquamarine power pulsed down her arms and extended from her hands, forming two long arms of magical energy that ended in giant hands big enough to enclose a man’s body, with spidery fingers tipped by long claws. They mirrored the movement of her physical arms. She used them to grab two of their antagonists. The claws on her magical hands pierced their bodies and their souls as she hauled them, screaming, off the ground. She smashed them into each other, then slammed their inert bodies to the ground.

Aleena studied her foes coming to kill her, as calm as someone sipping her morning tea while watching the sun rise. Her warrior’s gift thrilled at the prospect of battle, yet everything appeared to slow down, producing a deep serenity; there was no need to rush. She had all the time in the world. Her gift seemed to merge with the coming fight in a sensation rather like someone slipping into some comfortable clothes. Her first opponent stepped into range and she brought her sword down to her target’s shoulder, cleaving into his chest cavity. Another man came for her. She moved a fraction of a second before he started to stab at her face, instinctively knowing what his intentions. She shifted to her left while using her sword to shove his to the right, then hacked into his forehead. As he fell she found herself facing a figure in a tattered red robe. The garment concealed its features, but it gave the impression of being somewhat hunched and misshapen. It suddenly stood erect, taller than Aleena’s six feet. It threw its robes open, revealing an emaciated demonic looking thing with blazing red light for eyes and four arms. Each hand held a dagger. With a screech, it came for Aleena, its arms flailing.

Baezha focused on the two sorcerers facing her, a man and a woman. Each held a glowing staff. Baezha faced them – and she reached behind her with one of her magical arms to grab a third antagonist trying to sneak up on her. She whirled him around and slammed him into the ground with bone-shattering force. Even as she did so, the other two cast their spells. The woman’s attack resembled a stream of purple fire while the man unleashed something that looked like red lightning. Baezha’s command of magic came as naturally to her as breathing. Her mind reached out and caught the spells hurled at her, swirling them around her, and sent them back. She sent the man’s spell at the woman and the woman’s at the man. Even as they dropped dead she drove one of her magical arms at another sorcerer. He waved a counter spell that blasted her magical arms out of existence and sent her staggering back.

Aleena slid back, dodging her demonic foe’s frenzied assault. Without looking, she drove a kick into another opponent coming up behind her. She slipped off to one side, avoiding the demon’s lashing knives, and brought her sword down to lop off one of its arms. Glowing yellow blood spurted from the stump. Her enchanted sword was as sharp as she desired, ranging from a dull practice blade to keen enough to slice stone. When faced with such an enemy, her mind set it as sharp as possible. Shrieking, the demon lashed at her. She held her sword so the demon slammed its flailing arm against the edge and amputated its own limb. Its screams grew in volume and pitch as it stabbed at her with its remaining two knives. They struck her on each side of her torso, but her enchanted plate armor stopped them. She thrust her sword into the center of its chest and used her sword’s other enchantment – at her mental command it ignited, which is why she named it Firethorne. She left her burning sword in its chest and drew her double bladed axe, Shearbat, from its sheath on her back, whirling to meet the enemy coming up behind her.

Baezha faced her last opponent. Even though she stood at an even six feet, he towered over her. He had human symmetry, but the slight lavender tint to his complexion and the alien planes of his face made his inhuman lineage clear. He wore a necklace that sported numerous shrunken heads, but the heads moved.

You are, he said, without a doubt the most troublesome witch I’ve ever encountered.

Yet another gift the gods granted me.

I’ll enjoy adding you to my harem of souls. I’ve harvested them from all planes of existence.

He hefted his necklace, and the heads grimaced.

Which is why we were sent after you and your fellows, Baezha replied.

He smiled.

As have others. Soon, you’ll –

Baezha’s psychic power seized him and brought her to him. Even as he flew through the air towards her, she drew her enchanted black sword from the sheath on her back and slashed into him as he closed with her. Her blow caught him at his narrow waist and effortlessly sliced him in two. He flopped to the ground, his upper half rolling onto his back as he looked up at her, horrified surprise twisting his inhuman face. He’d expected her to use magic on him, not telekinesis and a sword. She lopped his head off and turned to check on Aleena. Her sister was doing fine, so she occupied herself with freeing the souls the leader had imprisoned in his necklace of shrunken heads. They were more than willing to go, so she had only to open a gate for them. The last one had just left when Baezha detected a presence behind her. She stood and turned to see the darkness towering over her.

Aleena’s axe had the same enchantment as her sword except it could not produce flame. Its black blades sheared through her foe, steel cuirass and all. Another man thrust at her. She used the haft of the axe, blades low and butt high, to shove his blade aside. She jabbed the butt of the haft into his face and whirled to face his colleague, coming at her from another direction. Her swinging axe bisected his skull at eye level. She returned her attention to the last one, bringing her axe blades down upon him, and with that the outlaw band known as the Drahn Vor, the Eaters of Souls, was extinct. The demon Aleena had fought laid on its back, engulfed in flames, her sword sticking up from its chest. She reclaimed her sword and doused its flames. She looked to Baezha.

A tall, slim figure cloaked in black stood before her. Aleena hurled her axe at the black figure. The thing writhed when the enchanted axe struck. It boiled and swirled like a cloud, then resolved itself back in its solid form. Shearbat lay on the ground behind it. It turned to Aleena, but she was already upon it, flaming sword swinging.

Aleena, no!

Aleena ignored Baezha as she furiously swept her sword back and forth through the black figure. Her weapon passed through it like it was vapor, yet its writhing and twisting told her she was hurting it.

Aleena, stop!

Beazha restrained Aleena.

It’s not an enemy, Aleena. It is merely a messenger.

Aleena stopped.

What?

The dark figure swirled about like a swarm of flies, then pulled itself together and rose in its solid form. Its face was concealed within the depths of its hood, and its dark formless garments did not disguise the fact that it was quite thin.

I apologize for my sister, Baezha told it. She mistook you for a threat.

The thing was silent as it regarded them, its face still invisible. After a few moments, it spoke.

Your trial date is set, Baezha, it told her, its voice a quiet thrum that sounded more or less like a man’s.

The Ashoga is placing me on trial?

Yes. And you know why.

She nodded as she sighed.

Yes, I know why.

On the next full moon in the meadow above the river at your home. You know the one I mean?

Yes.

Be there. And bring your sister.

Baezha’s heart went cold.

Why? What has Aleena to do with this?

It is what the Ashoga commands.

The thing vanished from sight.

What in the seven hells was that all about? Aleena asked.

Baezha said nothing as she stared off into the distance. Dread that she kept buried deep within welled up, knotting her bowels. What she had so long feared was finally coming to pass.

Baezha? Aleena prompted.

Baezha came back to the present and turned her gaze on Aleena.

Baezha, what was that thing? What did it mean about a trial? What the bloody hell is going on?

Baezha swallowed and took a shuddering breath.

Let’s go home, she said.

Go home? No, I want some answers.

I cannot speak of it, Aleena, Baezha said as she closed her eyes and turned her face down. Not just yet.

They reclaimed their horses and started for home. Aleena tried to get Baezha to talk, but Baezha refused. Being a warrior, Aleena’s instinct was to solve the problem as quickly and decisively as possible, but that required Baezha’s cooperation, which she obviously wasn’t going to give. Aleena puzzled over it. In the time they had been together, she had seen Baezha go toe to toe with all manner of enemies, human and demonic. Baezha had just destroyed half a dozen sorcerers with the nonchalance of a woman doing the dishes. What could possibly so frighten her she would’t speak of it?

They bedded down for the night, anticipating reaching home tomorrow afternoon. Two years ago Aleena Kurrin had met Baezha Ambrose. Both women were in their early twenties. She accompanied Aleena to Aleena’s home town of Sharleah in the Artisan League, a confederation of provinces united by economics. Aleena’s parents, Ilian and Ivarr, had taken her in and she had lived in relative peace ever since. Now something disturbed that peace, like the surface of a calm lake disturbed by the movement of a large creature below. After more failure to get Baezha to open up, both women went to sleep. Sometime later, Baezha’s gasping cry woke her.

Baezha? Are you all right?

Yes, Baezha replied with a sigh. Just another nightmare.

Baezha had been prone to nightmares for as long as Aleena had known her. Aleena regarded her adopted sister for a few seconds before speaking again.

Baezha, the longer you keep the demon caged the more it fights to get out.

Baezha said nothing. Making no more progress on getting Baezha to open up, Aleena went back to sleep. As Baezha lay there, the hated voice bobbed to the surface of her consciousness.

Such loving concern from your sister. If only she knew the real you. Of course, before long she will. And we know what will happen then…

Panic rose in Baezha’s heart, like a geyser bubbling up. The urge for release built to a level that nearly made her eyes water but, like an itch in an intimate spot, she would’t scratch it until she was sure no one was looking. She waited until she heard the rhythmic deep breathing that signified Aleena slept. She took out her knife, pressed it to her thigh, and cut. Her rising panic stopped rising, but the hated voice spoke up, needling her.

I can think of a better place to cut yourself. The wrist, for example. Or the throat.

She cut her thigh again, and the hated voice went silent. She cut again, and again. She didn’t stop until her entire left thigh was striped like a zebra. The wild panic stilled. She wrapped her thigh so she would’t make a mess and went to sleep.

They continued their journey the next day, Aleena’s frustration at her sister for not letting her help radiating from her. They arrived home mid-afternoon. The direction they came from meant they reached their house before the actual town of Sharleen, which was perhaps a further twenty minutes away. The sisters rode into the yard. Aleena’s father, Ivarr, came out of his forge to greet them while her mother, Ilian, emerged from the house.

Ah, the conquering heroines have returned, Ivarr said. He was a big, solid man with skin the color of bronze and hair the color of iron, and wore a neatly trimmed beard.

And still in one piece, Ilian said as she stepped down from the porch. She had long silky brown hair and hazel eyes. A few freckles dusted her nose and cheeks. Things went well, I trust?

Baezha remained silent as they dismounted, though her thigh pained her. She took her things into the house while Ivarr’s apprentice came forward to see about the horses.

They did, Aleena said. Up until the end.

Oh? Ivarr said. What happened?

Aleena told them.

I haven’t been able to get her to talk, but we’re going to see Madigan so he can pay us for this errand. Perhaps he can help.

Aleena went into the house to change out of her armor and into some clean clothes. She paused in front of her full length mirror after undressing. She tightened her abdomen, her shoulders, her legs, admiring her clean, taut lines. She took up her sword and made a few swings and transitioned into a few stances, enjoying the sight of her muscles sliding under her skin, seeing her gift in motion. She smiled, amused at her vanity. She threw on a shirt and some trousers, then went to Baezha’s room.

Come along, she said to Baezha as Ilian and Ivarr approached. Madigan needs to pay us.

Aleena, I’d rather –

Baezha, I’ve been patient, but this has gone on long enough. We’re going to see Madigan. He is going to pay us. And you are going to tell him about your little summons. Perhaps he can be of assistance.

We’ll all go, Ivarr said.

I would keep you out of this, Baezha told him.

Baezha, we have welcomed you into our home, into our family, Ivarr gently said. You are our daughter now, and we’ll not let our daughter face her troubles alone.

A small, hesitant smile curved Baezha’s lips. Even though she had been living with the Kurrins for two years, she still found herself unsure how to respond to a family’s love. It had been so long since she had last experienced it, before it had been torn from her. Now that she had that love again, the fear of losing it sometimes all but strangled her. Experiencing that again would, she knew, destroy her. The fist in her bowels tightened its grasp.

It’s no less than you deserve, the hated voice assured her.

They found Madigan in his chambers at Sharleahh’s academy. Like all industries in the Artisan League, the academy was renowned for the quality of its products, and Aleena and Baezha were two of its top graduates.

Ah, that didn’t take you long, Madigan said when they entered. Silver streaked his dark hair and goatee. His dark robes lent him a somber air, contrasting with the cheerful vitality in his eyes.

We saw no reason to dally, Aleena said.

Well, you’ve taken a great burden from my mind, he said, opening a lock box and taking out two sacks of coins. The Drahn Vor are – or rather, were – known and feared, but so long as they stayed away from here I didn’t concern myself with them. When I received word they were in the vicinity, though, something had to be done.

It was. They’ll never pose a threat again.

Thank you. I’ll sleep much better knowing you’ve ushered them into the extinction they so richly deserved.

He paid them, sat back and regarded at them for a few seconds.

But there is further reason for your visit than payment for services rendered.

He focused on Baezha. His magical and psychic senses saw her pain as clearly as his eyes saw her face.

What vexes you so?

Baezha sighed.

Perhaps we should get Headmistress Rita in here, as well, Baezha said with a heavy sigh. She might have useful council.

Very well.

Madigan summoned a student and had him fetch the headmistress. She arrived a few minutes later.

Good morning, Mistress Ambrose, Mistress Kurrin, Rita greeted. An older woman of medium height and build, her hair remained mostly black and she kept it in a single long braid. Ivarr, Ilian. What can I do for you?

I need Madigan’s council, Baezha said. And I thought you might have some insights, as well.

Rita cocked her head, intrigued.

Now, then, Madigan said, How may I be of service?

Yesterday, Baezha began, I met a herald of the Ashoga.

That’s what that thing was? Aleena asked.

Yes.

Not being sorcerers, the Kurrins and Rita had no idea what that meant, but Madigan stiffened. Baezha went on.

He told me they would try me at the next full moon, and to bring Aleena with me.

You’re being placed on trial by the who? Ilian asked.

The Ashoga, the Mages' High Court.

They govern magical matters?

To a degree. They only involve themselves when things have reached a critical point.

And now they involve themselves with you, Aleena said.

Yes.

Why?

I…

Aleena let the silence unwind a bit before speaking.

You once told me you’d done something when you were a girl, something for which you would forever pay, but you never said any more. It was obviously painful, and I thought it best to let you get to it in your own good time. Is that what this is about?

Her face downcast, Baezha swallowed and quietly said, Yes.

Baezha, I never pressed you on this, even though I thought it would do you good to uncork the bottle. But now that I'm being dragged into this I think I have a right to know what happened.

"And so you do, Baezha said in Aleena’s mind. Aleena had finally gotten accustomed to being the recipient of telepathic messages. It had been disconcerting at first, rather like suddenly finding someone in her clothes with her. But I cannot speak of it here, Aleena. Not before all whom I love and respect. You will learn all at my trial."

Aleena nodded.

Very well.

Shall I accompany you? Madigan asked.

I was instructed to bring only Aleena.

Does this court not allow you legal council? Rita asked.

I’ve never attended one of their trials, Baezha told her. My knowledge of their process is incomplete. I’d rather resolve this without involving any of you, but… She stopped and sighed before continuing. The Ashoga doesn’t involve itself in trifling matters. They are placing me on trial, and I…

She stopped. She pressed her lips together and her brow furrowed.

You fear you will be found guilty, Rita said. Baezha nodded.

And the Ashoga serves a rather harsh justice, Madigan said. But just because they’re placing you on trial doesn’t mean you’re guilty.

Madigan narrowed his eyes as he regarded her.

"But that’s not what you think, is it," his voice said in her mind. "You are awash in guilt… and shame."

At that Baezha quietly but irresistibly pushed him from her mind.

Baezha, Rita said, Aleena is absolutely right. You must let this out. It is eating you alive.

Baezha remained silent.

I understand you don’t want to discuss it, Madigan said to Baezha, but if you change your mind, Rita and I are here.

As are we, Ilian said, putting an arm around her. She embraced Ilian. Ivarr patted her shoulder. He had the strong, calloused hands of a master blacksmith, like bear paws with the nails trimmed, yet he touched Baezha as gently as if she were his infant daughter, though that gentle touch still managed to convey his great strength.

Though we aren’t sorcerers, we will do whatever is in our power to help, he assured her.

Rita regarded Baezha with the warmth and confidence a teacher has for a beloved, gifted student.

You and Aleena are, she said, without a doubt, two of the brightest pupils to ever pass through this academy. If anyone can resolve this, it is you.

You are my sister, Aleena told her. I will follow you wherever I must. I will help you in any way I can, whether that be standing before the Ashoga, giving you a shoulder to lean on or hacking every one of your enemies into pudding.

Baezha looked at them all, enveloped in their love.

Thank you all, she said with quiet gratitude.

But then the cold terror of earning their hate replaced the warmth of their love. They would inevitably find out why the Ashoga was placing her on trial. And when they did, she knew she would again experience the tearing agony of her world getting ripped apart.

Gods know they’d be better off without you, you selfish little bitch.

Two nights later, Aleena and Baezha entered in the mountain meadow, awash in moonlight nearly bright enough to read by, when a sound like a great clap of thunder blasted through the meadow. They found themselves within a ring of azure fire. With another concussion, the flames vanished. In their place stood thrones fashioned from massive slabs of blue-grey stone. A robed figure occupied each seat. Some of them appeared human. Some did not.

Two thrones, both bigger than the others, loomed before the sisters. A large, stern man occupied the throne on their left. His beard and long mane of grey hair hinted at advanced age, but he was shirtless and muscled like a god. A white wrap garbed his lower half. A promethean woman with mauve hair piled up in some elaborate style and pointed ears sat on the throne on their right. Several wispy strands fell down the back of her neck, and two braids dangled on either side of her face, ending with the level of the throne's seat. Her skin's color fell somewhere between grey and silver, and her eyes bore the same color as her hair; no whites, irises, or pupils, just that one color. Her garb was similar to the man’s, except a halter of mail covered her upper torso, displaying a flat, hard stomach and long, sinewy arms. Though seated, Baezha and Aleena could see that she probably stood at least seven feet in height. Both figures stared at the two women.

The stern man before them spoke in a stentorian voice.

Baezha Ambrose, the Ashoga has gathered tonight to bring matters to an end. Seven years ago the forces were set in motion. They have been left unrestrained ever since, and they continue to reap a bitter harvest. Know you of what we speak?

Yes, Your Eminence, she replied in a subdued voice as she dipped her head. She had spent the last two days feeling like she was in a river being swept towards a waterfall, immersed in forces she could not halt. All she could do was struggle to keep her head above water as she was swept towards her inevitable doom.

Aleena looked around and saw the attention of all the judges fixed upon her.

You are Chosen, one of them said to her. Like Baezha.

She nodded. The Chosen were people supremely gifted in one field and well-endowed in another, their major and minor gifts. In addition to being highly gifted, the Chosen were blessed with beauty that was uncommon and permanent.

What are your gifts? the woman asked Aleena.

The warrior arts are my major gift and the bardic arts are my minor gift.

Our herald is still recovering from your greeting, His Eminence told her.

My apologies. I mistook him for a member of an outlaw band we were fighting just before he appeared.

I sense something else about you, a judge seated behind her said. Something… draconic.

I once ate a dragon’s heart, Aleena said, and gained the strength of the dragon. But it comes and goes at random. It isn’t with me right now. Sometimes I have desperate need of it and it does not come. Other times it may come when I have no need of it. I hope to be able to gain better control of it over time.

The Ashoga know Baezha, but aside from us, His Eminence gestured at the tall woman seated next to him, they do not know you. Please give them your full identity.

I am Aleena Kurrin, she said. Ilyah Shkarr, the Lady Scorpion. Mistress of Blades, and Sword Maiden. I am Baezha’s sister Chosen. We were born at the same moment, sisters of the same storm.

Born during huge storms of an extraordinary nature no one understood, the Chosen were exceptionally rare, and for more than one to be living at once was almost unheard of. Being the only ones of their kind made them siblings, even though they came from differing bloodlines.

Now, said His Eminence addressed the court, you all know Aleena and Baezha are Chosen sisters and how deeply bound they are, hence Aleena’s presence here. Lady Scorpion, know you of the events seven years ago?

I know only that when she was a girl, something terrible happened. She never told me what it was, and I thought it best not to pry. But that is what this is all about, isn’t it?

Yes, His Eminence replied. You can hide from it no longer, Baezha. This must be dealt with.

Whatever it is, Aleena went on, you will not lose my love or respect. I promise.

Never make a promise unless you are certain you can keep it, Baezha replied.

How bad can it be?

Worse than you would think.

No more delays, Baezha. You must release the demon. What happened?

With a casual motion of his hands, His Eminence conjured a wide inverted cone from the ground. Mist swirled within. Baezha resigned herself to being swept over the waterfall and stared at the cone. As she did so, the mist resolved itself into an image. Rather than merely recite her memories, she would put them on display for all to see.

I killed my parents.

PART I

THE FALL OF RAVENEYE

The things that make me different are the things that make me.― A.A. Milne

Insanity in individuals is something rare - but in groups, parties, nations and epochs, it is the rule. – Friedrich Nietzsche

The whole problem with the world is that fools and fanatics are always so certain of themselves, but wiser men so full of doubts. ― Bertrand Russell

Bunch together a group of people deliberately chosen for strong religious feelings, and you have a practical guarantee of dark morbidities expressed in crime, perversion, and insanity. – H.P. Lovecraft

Chapter 2

I suppose a bit of background information is necessary, Baezha said. So you can fully understand the relevant events. This was my first day of school at the Druid sheine. It was in an oak grove situated atop a natural concentration of magic, resulting in unusually large, healthy trees. I had six summers behind me.

Aleena peered into the image Baezha had conjured and observed her memories unfold.

* * *

Young Baezha approached the grove, a living cathedral, for her first day of instruction. The two oaks bracketing the main entrance each had trunks about fifteen feet in diameter. Their huge limbs undulated overhead, coming together to form a natural gateway with the trunks. A man, short and inhumanly thin, stood next to one of the gateway trees. He had tan skin, dark tangled hair, pointed ears and dark, slanted eyes. He wore only a pair of green trousers. He watched her approach, a smile drawing itself upon his face as he did so.

Good morning, he greeted her when she stood before the grove entrance.

Good morning. Are you my teacher?

Am I your teacher? he repeated with a laugh. Further amusement lit his face. No, not I.

Then who are you?

My name is Hodge, and this is my home. Who are you?

I’m Baezha. I’ve come to learn from the Druids.

Have you, now? Well, you’ve chosen well. The Druids are indeed wise, and there is much you can learn from them. And perhaps I can teach you a bit, as well.

You said you weren’t a teacher.

True enough, he chuckled as he nodded. I did say that, didn’t I? Aren’t you the clever one.

If you’re not a teacher, why do you live here?

Who are you talking to? a little girl’s voice demanded.

Baezha turned to the voice. A redheaded girl her age stared at Baezha as if she had taken her favorite toy. Two other little girls stood with her.

I’m talking to Hodge, Baezha said, pointing at him. He continued to smile. The three girls looked at her as if she told them she was talking to stones.

There’s no one there.

Now it was Baezha who looked at them as if they were mad.

He’s standing right there.

The girls laughed at her. Baezha tried to process what was happening when the gate to the sheine opened and a man came out. He wore green and brown robes.

That’ll be enough of that, he said. Deirdre, you and your friends get inside and get to class.

The redhead and her friends went inside. The man turned to look at Baezha. He was tall, with long brown hair, a beard and a moustache. His ocean blue eyes were kind and wise. There was about him the quiet strength of the oaks themselves. He smiled as he looked down at her. Then his gaze shifted to focus behind her.

Welcoming our newest student, Hodge? He had the voice of a gentle, patient man.

Indeed, Master Yul. She’s the first one to notice me. Naturally, I was intrigued.

This is Baezha Ambrose. She is Chosen.

Is she indeed? Hodge said, his narrow eyebrows rising with interest. And what would her major gift be? Magic, by any chance?

It would, Yul said with a nod.

Well, Hodge said as he chuckled, tis high time you got an interesting student here!

Why couldn’t the others see Hodge? Baezha asked Yul as he escorted her into the sheine.

They don’t have your gift, Baezha. One of the reasons your parents sent you here was so you could be mentored by others who know magic.

But why can’t they see him? He’s standing right there.

He’s a wood spirit. Only sorcerers can see him, unless he chooses to reveal himself. Most of your classmates cannot practice magic and are here only for a general education. Others can, like Deirdre, but haven’t learned how yet, and so they cannot see him. You will be schooled in magic as well as the other subjects. As you gain experience as one of the magical folk, I think you’ll see why Hodge wishes to remain unknown.

Later that morning, Yul and the other Druids gave the students a tour of the sheine. Huge vines two feet thick and undulations in the titanic trunks formed natural stairwells and causeways. Some classes they held in chambers situated among the tree limbs. Others convened in natural hollows formed by the massive trunks and limbs growing around each other. They led the students through a tall, narrow opening in the trunk of one of the oaks and down a stairway that descended into the hill itself. They came down into a vast room, the ceiling supported by several columns that appeared to be trees. Tall shelves filled with books took up every bit of wall space. Several pedestals stood in different locations throughout the room, each one supporting a massive book.