TRAPHIS GAZED INTO the glass cube. The soft glow of light made him feel sleepy, as if he could stretch out on the floor and take a long nap. If it weren’t for Titch—who held the cube upright—he might have done just that.
Smoke reeled within the cube. At least, it looked like smoke. The misty substance swirling within reminded Traphis of creek water being stirred by a stick. He wanted to reach out and grab the glass, but held back; something told him he would regret it.
“Go ahead,” Titch said, as if reading his thoughts. “It’s all right.”
Traphis wanted to trust her. She had given him no reason to doubt her so far, but it could be only a matter of time before she sprung a trap. He had learned that people are not to be trusted, particularly those having anything to do with Gaybec. Still, there was something pleasing about Titch—she seemed different from the others.
With a note of caution, Traphis reached out with both hands and grasped the sides of the cube.
He held onto the flat surface, which was so smooth that he was afraid of dropping it—there would be no excuse for breaking something this magnificent.
His fingers tingled from the warmth of the light. As he stared within, he gazed into an endless sky: vast, open, and free. There was something familiar about the aura it gave off—like he had sensed this power from somewhere before. He longed to be pulled inside—to fly among the cloudy smoke like a bird without a cage. He felt as if he could go anywhere he wanted and explore the entire world. To be free to do whatever he desired—even if only for an instant.
Without so much as a hesitation, Traphis lifted the object closer to his face. The light radiated so brightly that he was forced to lower his eyelids. Then, without warning, the cube vibrated in his hands. Soon after, the smoke within spun like a tornado and the sky blurred into the shape of a funnel.
The room around him faded into the distance. All sound ceased. The smells of dust and mold were replaced with that of burning flesh. Smoke rose from between his fingers and pain shot throughout his entire body. He wanted to cry out, but his jaw wouldn’t move. He tried to shift his arms, but none of his muscles would respond—he no longer had control.
An image emerged from the smoke like a bird from a cloud, but this was no bird. Traphis watched with horror as the face of a wolvark appeared. The creature’s human-shaped torso and wolf-like head rotated amongst the smoke as the beast’s yellow eyes searched back and forth, seemingly looking for something or someone. The wolvark moved closer to the edge of the crystal glass and sniffed at the air. Traphis wished he could run and hide, but his body was still locked into place. The heat against his hands burned so fiercely that it took all he had to keep from collapsing to the floor.
A snarl broke the silence and a voice spoke, “Yes, yes, he has used magic. We must find him and bring him to us. He has used magic, he is ours now.” The beast’s nose grew in size as it pointed at Traphis’ face, and a smile creased its doglike mouth. “Yes, he is here. I can smell him. He is—”
A loud noise echoed in the air and Traphis felt himself falling to the ground. Pain swept over his body like fire against wood. Muffled voices surrounded him, but he couldn’t hear what they were saying. The flat, hard surface of the ground was all that supported him. His body had never seemed heavier than it did now. The flesh on his bones would turn to liquid and spread out in a pool of water, and all that remained would float away.
“Traphis, can you hear me?”
Thousands of small creatures were crawling on his skin. He wanted to shake them off, but he couldn’t move. They were going to eat what was left of his miserable flesh.
“Traphis, open your eyes.”
That voice again. What did it want? Why wouldn’t it let the creatures have their way?
The crawling feet stopped. Traphis could feel his cheekbone against the floor. It was hard, too hard; he had to move his head. He felt the lids over his eyes open on their own. An old man was kneeling down beside him. The man put a small bag into his robe and reached out toward Traphis’ forehead.
“Do not move yet,” the old man said. “It takes the magic a few moments to heal wounds this deep. Whatever possessed you to touch the Cube of Revealment?”
“Falin?”
“Yes, Traphis.”
“How? Where?”
“A wizard sensed that his security seal had been activated, so I came. You are fortunate that I did, or you might have been discovered.”
“Discovered? But you found me.”
“That is not the kind of discovery I was referring to. Traphis, there is something you need to know about the Cube of Revealment. It can help you to see things that are important, but by doing so, it opens a path back to you. All magic is about opening paths. But that which you see can also see you and as long as the connection is active, the path will remain open.”
Many questions filled in Traphis’ mind. He wanted to know how this path opened, how someone on the other end could see him without also having a cube, why it burned his skin so badly, why it locked his body into place, and where the power came from, but the one question that nagged him the most was why he saw what he saw. A wolvark—and it seemed to be looking for him. For Traphis.
“Does it always show the truth?” Traphis leaned forward and touched his palm. There were no burn marks. It was the same as when Falin healed his wounds before.
“It showed you something?”
Traphis nodded.
Falin examined Traphis closely. He was probing deep into him like before, and Traphis sensed a seriousness from him that made him tense.
“Tell me,” Falin said. “Have you used magic?”
Traphis felt the blood flow from his face. Should he lie? What if his mother found out? She would be angry with him. But he had to say something. “I saw a wolvark.”
Falin rose to his feet, much quicker than a man his age would be expected. “I knew it. I must talk to the Committee right away. Please, come with me.” He stretched out a hand.
Traphis hesitated. He didn’t want to stand in front of those old wizards again. They would glare at him and accuse him of improperly using magic. Greagor would go straight to his mother and . . . no, he couldn’t do it.
“I feel sick,” Traphis said. “I don’t think I can walk yet.”
There was an expression of doubt on Falin’s face, but he turned and made his way toward the stairs. “Remember that I made a promise to talk to you about your father. I will not forget.”
“Titch?” Traphis just realized she wasn’t in the room with him.
“Titch is safe,” Falin said. “She is with her uncle now. You were the only one injured.” With that, Falin climbed the staircase and left Traphis alone with his thoughts.
He knew he shouldn’t have touched the cube, but Titch told him it would be all right. Had she known what would happen?
Gaybec.
The two of them must have planned this joke together. Get the moarock, make him suffer. Pretend to be his friend and then hit him hard. That was it. Traphis would never trust anyone ever again.
* * *
The sun sank in the sky and long shadows stretched below the nearby booths. The air, cool and refreshing, was almost enough to make Traphis forget the smell of his burning flesh. Even though his skin had been repaired, the scent permeated his memory. This was twice that Falin had healed him. A man he only just met, but somehow seemed to know more about him than he did himself. Were it not for Falin’s help, Traphis would be a walking mess. That and the fact that he would have had to come up with another excuse. How many times could he lie to his mother? An unsettling feeling sank inside his gut.
Always be true, no matter what the cost, no matter what wrong was done, always be true. Traphis touched his knife. The message of his father, etched into the blade, was beginning to etch into his memory.
“That’s the last one.” Anjetta’s words caught Traphis by surprise. She smiled at him as she brushed dirt from her hands. “Can you close the gate for me?”
He sighed, strolled over to the cart, and pushed against the wooden door. It was so full of food that he had to push with all his might.
“Let me help you with that, my boy.” Braun finished packing up his own booth, and then strolled over to theirs. He put an arm against the gate, and without much effort, snapped it shut.
“It was a good outcome,” Anjetta said. “We’ll have enough food for a long time.”
Braun looked puzzled. “Does this mean you are staying?”
Anjetta looked at Traphis. Her gaze was so intense that he had to turn away. It was as if she was trying to read his thoughts, and right now, he didn’t want her to.
“No,” Anjetta said. “We just agreed to help out. We can’t come empty handed.”
A broad smile stretched across Braun’s face. The man seemed to have enough happiness for the three of them. He walked over and nudged Traphis against the shoulder. “You won’t be disappointed. Just wait, you’ll be making your own swords in no time.”
“We better hurry or we’ll be late,” Anjetta said. “We wouldn’t want to miss the magic show now, would we?”
Traphis looked up. He had almost forgotten. This was the one thing he waited all year to see, and it would take more than a crystal cube to stop him.
“I’ll meet you there,” Traphis shouted. His feet carried him as fast as they could go.
* * *
Traphis sat down. The tiered seats at the Coliseum were uncomfortable, but they allowed for a large group of people—not that space was an issue; the building itself was big enough to fit the residents of several towns. How long the building had been there, perhaps even the oldest wizard didn’t know.
It must have been odd for a small town to have such a big meeting place, but then again, Traphis figured this was one of the reasons the wizards picked Hoshan. Students must have sat in these seats for hundreds of years, watching with awe and wonder at their elder instructors.
Traphis sighed.
The person next to him didn’t seem to notice he was even there. Everyone was busy talking amongst themselves, sticking to their groups, and ignoring anyone that didn’t belong. One day he will stand in the center of the Coliseum. Everyone will come to see him, and then they will be the ones stuck in these uncomfortable seats, listening to trivial conversations. That is, until the performance began and all would watch in hushed wonder, gazing as he produced magnificent feats of magic.
Traphis looked up at the night sky, which peered through the open dome. He rubbed his skin and wished he would have had the sense to grab a jacket before running off.
A boy looked up at him from the seat ahead and smiled. When Traphis failed to return the gesture; the little boy turned around and hugged his father.
He must have appeared gloomy. It was the wizarding show after all; he had no reason to be sad. Then again, Traphis suddenly caught a glimpse of Gaybec a few tiers down. Titch sat beside her nasty cousin, and they were laughing. Probably at him. If that wasn’t a reason to be gloomy, nothing was.
“There you are.” Anjetta’s voice sounded irritated. She and Braun sat at either side of him. The man next to Braun looked like he wanted to say something, but simply scooted over in his seat as far as he could.
Traphis glanced over at Titch, who looked back at the ruckus. Her eyes met his, but he quickly turned away and pretended to be interested in his mother’s arrival.
“What do you suppose these jesters will do this year?” Braun asked. He relaxed his shoulders, which squished Traphis between him and his mother.
“Now father, just because you aren’t a magic user, doesn’t mean you should put them down.”
“Dah, ever since Mardin, they are all jesters to me.” Braun suddenly stiffened. “I’m sorry, Traphis, I didn’t mean to . . .”
There was an awkward silence, which remained until a man on the other side of Anjetta grunted, got up, and moved to another seat. Taking his place was Greagor.
Traphis felt his insides stiffen. What made it worse was the stupid smile his mother held on her face.
“I’ll go get us something to eat,” Braun said. He was out of his seat before anyone could speak.
Greagor cleared his throat. “It’s a nice day for a show.”
“Yes, it is,” Anjetta said.
“Jabool is a good performer,” Greagor said. “I’m looking forward to seeing what he has prepared for us.”
“We’ll see.” Traphis mumbled. The event suddenly lost its luster. He was now convinced that this Jabool would be inadequate in comparison to his father. In fact, Traphis suddenly wished that the wizard would do a terrible job. Better yet, it would be wonderful if a stray bolt of magic flew up and hit Greagor flat in the chest.
After imagining several other scenarios of this kind, Traphis was interrupted when Greagor leaned forward and spoke directly to him.
“Traphis,” Greagor said. “I heard about what happened today. Are you all right?”
The tension in Traphis’ stomach suddenly turned into a pool of water. Blood rose to his face and his heart stopped.
Anjetta’s head snapped around as if someone had jerked it with his or her hands. “Traphis, what is he talking about?”
Traphis shot Greagor a dirty look.
The man blushed, turned away, and then leaned back in his seat.
“It was nothing,” Traphis said, disguising the uneasiness in his voice. “It was just a little burn. Falin healed it right away.”
“Falin?” Anjetta displayed a look of shock, or was it horror? “How do you know Falin? Where were you? What happened? Why were you with him? Where is he? Why is he here?”
Traphis guessed the latter part of her questions weren’t aimed at him. If she found out what really happened . . . no, she can’t know. That would be the end of his magic. His books would be destroyed for real this time, and he would be watched like a prisoner—she would never allow him to go out on his own again.
Just then, Braun thundered back down on his seat. Several people muttered to themselves, but not loud enough to be clearly heard. Braun passed down items of food.
“Sorry, Greagor,” Braun said. “I don’t have enough for you; I didn’t know you’d still be here.”
Traphis sensed sarcasm in Braun’s tone. It seemed that his grandfather hoped Greagor would leave just as he did. Traphis wanted to hug him and tell him thank you for being on his side, but he could feel the daggers of Anjetta’s eyes against his temple.
“It’s quite all right,” Greagor said. “I was just about to sit by my family. I’m sure they are wondering where I am.” He looked at Anjetta. “I’ll see you later?”
This time even Anjetta didn’t acknowledge the mayor. It was as if nothing other than the news of Falin existed in her mind. Greagor must have sensed this and so he smiled, turned, and walked away. Had Traphis possessed a smidgen of fondness for the man, he might have felt a hint of sympathy.
“Did I come back at a bad time?” Braun asked.
“Falin is here,” Anjetta said. “And he talked to Traphis.”
“I see.” Braun didn’t sound surprised, but there was a sadness in his tone.
Traphis looked back and forth between the two of them. “What’s wrong with Falin? He’s a nice man. He knew my father, and he promised to tell me about him.”
“Traphis . . .” Anjetta sighed. “Some things are better left alone.”
“I’m tired of leaving things alone. It doesn’t make any sense. Why can’t I know more about my father? Why must everything be a secret? Why am I not allowed to learn magic?” Something told Traphis he had gone too far, but that didn’t matter. He could no longer hold it in.
Anjetta didn’t respond. Her eyes filled with an unrecognizable emotion.
She didn’t understand. She would never understand. It didn’t matter anymore. He would never be allowed to learn magic now. Greagor would tell her what happened and that would be the end of it. He could no longer stand to look at her. Every breath that passed through her lips made him want to be farther and farther away.
Traphis had to go. He had to escape. He had to . . . run.
Without hesitation, he jumped to his feet, turned, and ran out of the Coliseum. He would leave them there to plan ways to ruin his life. To take away any chance of happiness. Their life—not his. It was all about them. No, it was all about her. It always had been. Even when his father passed away, it was Traphis who took care of things. She lay in bed for weeks, not eating, not helping in the fields, and not making any meals. Why did he always have to be the one to make things right? Why wasn’t he allowed to have times of sadness? Times of grief?
The night air filled his lungs. His knuckles clenched together as he swung his arms at his sides. The sound of voices faded until all he could hear was the pounding of his own feet.
He made his way across an open field and toward the forest. When he reached the edge of the dense woods, he hurled himself to the ground. He knew better than to enter the forest at this time of night, but being close to danger made him feel better. He almost wished that a learcat would come out and put an end to it all.
A voice inside him told him that he was in the wrong. That he was being foolish. That he should go back and apologize for his childish behavior, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Admitting defeat would somehow admit that he didn’t feel like he did. And it would be wrong for him to lie. He was going to stay right where he was, even if it was in the dirt.
The stars glittered above and the cool air nipped at his arms, but he didn’t care. Let it bite, he thought. Let it become so cold that I can’t feel anymore. Let the darkness swallow me into its nothingness. Anything was better than what he felt now.
The wizard show started. He could see the Coliseum in the distance, which lit up in flashes. Shadows stretched along the outside of the white, stone walls, and the sounds of magic exploded into the air.
Trying to ignore it, he took out his knife, reached over, and picked up a dry branch. He broke off the side branches and ran his blade along the stem. Slivers of bark coiled under the edge. Once the surface was bare, he pressed the tip of the blade against the wood and began to carve a picture of his father.
When at last the face was finished, Traphis frowned. It looked nothing like his father at all. He lifted the knife, clenched his teeth, and then thrust the blade downward. As soon as it struck the stick, a dark cloud formed in his mind. The tip of the blade glowed red and a trail of smoke glided from the metal. A moment later, a bright flame leapt from the knife and landed against the carving. Traphis pulled back. When the glowing faded, he placed the tip of the blade between his thumb and forefinger. To his surprise, it was cool.
He looked back down at the stick. The flame had spread across the surface and was creeping toward his fingers. He jumped up, threw the stick to the ground, and took several steps back. The flames licked across the wood surface like an animal tasting its prey.
There was something unusual about the flame. Of course, for it to have started in the first place was unusual, but this was no ordinary blaze. Unlike the typical yellowish tint that Traphis had come to expect from a fire, this one was a deep red.
An unfamiliar sensation flowed over him. This was magic—that much he could figure out—but what kind of magic, he didn’t know. It was different from the spark he learned to create in his cave. No, this fire blazed red like blood, and it carried a presence of fear.
A gust of wind blew past and a piece of shaven bark spun into the air. It landed next to the stick and then burst into flames.
The stick glimmered in the darkness like a single star in the sky. Traphis crept closer to the fire and stared at it. A flat stone, sticking sideways out of the ground, extended its long dark shape to the tip of his toe. All around the ground had blackened. Everything burned within several feet, and soon the forest would be in danger.
He pulled the stone out of the ground, plunged it sideways into the earth, and scooped up a pile of dirt. With a heave, he forced the dirt on top of the stick and covered a small portion. The fire twitched, as if reeling back in agony.
He repeated this process—using the stone like a shovel—until the black soil completely covered the flames. Without taking any chances, he added several more layers just to be sure it did the job, and then he packed it down.
All was dark once again.
He lay back down on the ground and brushed the blackness from his hands. Whatever happened, at least the fire was contained now.
There was definitely more to magic than he first thought. Perhaps his mother was right. Maybe he would only end up hurting himself if he were to learn more about it. But he just couldn’t quench his thirst, he had to try. He had to learn more. She would never understand. Maybe he would have to wait until he was old enough to be on his own, but one way or another, he would become a wizard. That much he knew.
As he thought about it, he realized it would be best to go back to the show. For the most part, the distraction made him forget about his anger, and at least he would be able to find out how good this Jabool really was.
* * *
Traphis instantly recognized the man in center ring. He couldn’t forget the slimy expression of the one who had sat across from Falin in the meeting room. There was something about him that reminded Traphis of a horse. The man’s long, skinny face stretched longer than his two hands combined.
This is my father’s replacement?
Several children dashed past Traphis as he stood in a doorway of the Coliseum. They giggled and shoved treats into their mouths.
He wanted to go back to his seat, but this was twice he had run out on his mother, and he couldn’t bear to face both her and his grandfather again.
Someone else brushed past him, but then suddenly stopped.
“Oh for horror, I touched a moarock. Now I will never be clean again.”
Traphis felt the blood drain from his cheeks.
“So my cousin got you good, didn’t she?” Gaybec said. This time he was alone. “What, nothing to say? It’s too bad the old wizard was there, otherwise we’d be free of you.”
A loud bang of magic sounded in the distance. Unfortunately, it was Jabool, and not Traphis who had produced it, otherwise it would have landed across Gaybec’s smug face.
So it was true that Titch intended to do him harm. That didn’t surprise him. There was little chance that someone like her would actually be his friend. He wasn’t sure whether to feel hurt, sad, angry, or indifferent. Right now, there was only room for one emotion: hate, hate for Gaybec alone.
“How’s your face, Gaybec? Maybe I should kick it this time.” Traphis spit at the ground. Where this boldness came from, he couldn’t tell. In a few days time, he would be leaving Hoshan for good, which meant he would be leaving Gaybec and his father, Greagor, behind. Perhaps this thought gave him greater courage.
“You were lucky last time because I didn’t want to hear your mommy crying to my father. This time I will crush you into the ground.” Gaybec tightened his fist.
“It would take a giant to crush me, but then that would make you the moarock, now, wouldn’t it?” Traphis reached down and grabbed the hilt of his knife. He didn’t intend to actually cut Gaybec with it, but he did mean to put some fear into the boy. When he pulled, the knife didn’t move. A puzzled look must have formed on his face as he pulled harder. With each tug, the cloth on his leg flexed, but still, the knife didn’t release from its sheath.
“What? That’s all you’ve got?” Gaybec laughed. “I’m so scared. No, please don’t hurt me; I’ll do anything you say.” He rolled his head backward and roared with laughter.
Traphis couldn’t understand it. He had taken the knife out just moments earlier. What could be preventing it from releasing now? He looked down, grabbed the sheath in his right hand, and then pulled hard with his left.
A sharp pain pierced his stomach and he wrenched forward.
“I’d do worse,” Gaybec said, “but you look so pathetic it just wouldn’t feel right. Next time, moarock, I’ll play with you a little more.” Gaybec spun on his heel and then trotted away.
Traphis put his hand on his stomach where Gaybec had punched him. It felt as if he ate something rotten. He coughed and gulped in air.
Next time Traphis would get him back. Gaybec had pushed him around for far too long. So what if his mother was partial to Greagor? It was his battle and no one would get in his way. Perhaps by then he would be a wizard.
If only his knife hadn’t gotten stuck.
Traphis reached down and grabbed the handle once again. He pulled and the blade came out without hesitation.
Of course, now it works, Traphis thought. Just in time for it to be useless.
A sequence of loud explosions rang across the Coliseum, followed by a loud cheer. Shortly thereafter, people left their seats and headed out of the building. Traphis leaned against the wall to keep from falling over.
The children from earlier passed by again. This time they looked sad, as if the show’s finality had signaled the end of their fun. One of the boys looked at Traphis out of the corner of his eye. He stopped, turned around, and started to approach, but the boy’s mother quickly grabbed his hand and pulled him away.
Traphis looked down and realized he was still holding his knife, so he returned it to its sheath.
After the majority of the crowd had left, he followed behind them, trying hard as he could to hide the pain in his stomach.
The stars greeted him once again on the outside of the building. In the distance, Braun’s head stood above a jumble of people. Traphis knew his grandfather was big, but it didn’t really occur to him how big until he was among so many bodies. It was a good thing that they were family.
The crowd pushed on, but Braun didn’t move from his position. Traphis could now see that his mother was standing next to him. He expected to see her with crossed arms and a stern expression, but to his surprise, she wasn’t looking at him at all. She was talking to Falin. Or rather, Falin was talking to her. Her face looked as bleak as it had the day his father died.
Traphis guessed that Falin was telling her what happened earlier. This wasn’t going to be good.
When Anjetta saw him coming, she turned her back.
It was worse than he expected.
“What is it?” Traphis asked. He cringed in anticipation of the reply.
“Traphis,” Falin said. “I talked to the Committee.” He paused, looked at Anjetta, took a deep breath and said, “We agreed that it is time for you to learn magic.”