Sipping from the well of.., p.1
Sipping from the Well of Power, page 1
part #3 of Misfit Magic Series
CONTENTS
Dedication
Chapter One - An Old New World
Chapter Two - Greetings from the Abenaki
Chapter Three - Welcome to Concord
Chapter Four - Out of the Frying Pan
Chapter Five - A Gathering of Magic
Chapter Six - A Fork in the Road
Chapter Seven - Charge of the Magicians
Chapter Eight - A Plan to Keep the Doom at Bay
Chapter Nine - A Much Needed Talk
Chapter Ten - Wicked Men & Their Secrets
Chapter Eleven - Family Reunion
Chapter Twelve - Elijah's Warning
Chapter Thirteen - Slippery Eels Are Hard to Catch
Chapter Fourteen - Greetings, Sarah Lockwood
Chapter Fifteen - Whoops
Chapter Sixteen - A Gathering of Magic
Chapter Seventeen - A Slightly Uncomfortable Chat
Chapter Eighteen - Dance with the Devil
Chapter Nineteen - Chin Up
Chapter Twenty - Not So Fast
Chapter Twenty-One - Sleight of Hand
Chapter Twenty-Two - The Great Migration
Chapter Twenty-Three - Condemnation
Chapter Twenty-Four - Flight of the Magicians
Chapter Twenty-Five - Return to Woods Island
Chapter Twenty-Six - Elijah's Ultimatum
Chapter Twenty-Seven - Battle at Hilltop
Chapter Twenty-Eight - The Binding
Chapter Twenty-Nine - The New World's First Librarian
Thank You
Thank you to everyone who has supported me on this journey. Writing a book isn’t a sprint, it’s a marathon, and I couldn’t do it without the support of my friends and family.
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CHAPTER ONE
An Old New World
Quinn plummeted through a swirling vortex of light and violet fire. Roaring magic wrapped around his torso and coiled around his arms and legs, yanking him, stretching him, and tearing him apart amidst the chorus of his screams.
And then, in a thunderous clap that shook his bones, the magic vanished. His hands pressed against soft, cool grass above a spongy bed of soil. His heartbeat filled his ears, and his vision blurred.
His elbows shook. His stomach lurched, and he vomited on the grass.
Coughing and shivering, he rolled onto his back and away from the acrid reek of the insides of his stomach. He bumped into something on his roll and weakly glimpsed his friend Heidi. Her normally cheery, rosy cheeks wore a pale green, and sweat plastered her blond, feather-woven locks against her face.
Beside her, Billy heaved and vomited, hacking up the contents of his belly. The three young magicians lay in various states of sickness, not a single word passing between them for a long, exhausted moment.
Quinn’s world finally turned somewhat solid, and so did his stomach. He forced himself to his knees and rubbed the heel of his palm against his throbbing temple. Billy wiped his mouth along his sleeve and slumped against a tree trunk. Heidi brushed damp hair from her face and stared into a sky sprinkled with brilliant diamonds and a bright crescent moon.
“What happened?” she asked. “Where are we?”
Quinn finally took a moment to look around. They stood high upon a hill cloaked with hemlock and pine trees that freshened the air with a mildly pleasant scent. A calming feeling pervaded the space. It was a quiet place, a tranquil place, and yet, Quinn felt an odd power slumbering just beneath its serene surface.
“I don’t know. I—I remember opening the pocket watch. And then I dialed it back and the light came.”
Billy pulled himself away from the tree and helped Heidi to her feet. “You used the pocket watch? So it worked, then. It really worked.”
Heidi nodded. “And that means I know exactly where we are.”
“Where?” Quinn asked.
“Welcome to Wimbly’s, Quinn Lynch.” She grinned and slowly spun around. “It just hasn’t been built yet.”
“We’re on Woods Island?”
Billy’s dark eyes lit up. “And that means Nehemiah hasn’t been bound into the library! We can stop him. We can really do it. What year is it, does the pocket watch say?”
Quinn reached into his pocket and pulled out the shiny watch. He ran his thumb over the geometric patterns inscribed onto its face and popped the lid open. It ticked like any normal watch, but behind its unassuming hands, a tiny display read the year in glowing numbers.
Quinn swallowed. He closed the watchcase and met Billy’s eyes. “I don’t believe it.”
“What?” Billy rushed forward. “What year is it?”
“It says, ah, it says 1750.”
His friend’s face paled. “No way.”
Heidi squished her nose. “That’s totally impossible.”
“Why?” Quinn asked. “What’s so special about that year?”
“That’s the year Wimbly’s was founded,” she said. “I don’t know much about the history of the school, but I know that date at least.”
“I know something about it,” Billy chimed in. “And I know how it all started. We want to stop Nehemiah, we’ve got to find him, and according to what I remember from history the only group of magicians in the New World right now are in Concord. If we go there, we’ll find Nehemiah.”
Heidi shook her head and pinched her chin. “Still, it’s really weird that we went back to the exact year Wimbly’s was founded. What’s the chance that happens by accident?”
“Not very high,” Quinn murmured.
He stared into the tranquil forest. They stood on what would be called Hilltop with its faculty buildings, classrooms, and great library. But in that year, Hilltop was but a dream, and on Woods Island only trees and grass kept them company.
“Not very high at all,” she echoed. “And how do we get back? The pocket watch only goes back in time. I’ve never heard of an artifact or a magician going forward.” She looked up, her eyes wide. “Are we—stuck here?”
They traded glances as the realization sunk in. No one knew of a magician ever successfully jumping forward in time. It might not even be possible.
Quinn held the pocket watch close to his eyes. He prodded it with a finger, looking for any secret knob or switch that might reveal an easy way out. Instead, a long, thin crack appeared in its crystal face.
“Oh no,” Quinn said.
The crack spread. It deepened.
“Crap, crap, crap!”
The Horologist’s Pocket Watch vibrated. Cracks shattered its crystal face, and the watch burst into countless sparkling flecks of dust. Quinn tipped his palm to the side, and the remnants of the watch fell from his hand. The breeze took the dust, and in the space of a breath, not a speck of the artifact remained.
“It was dialed back too much. Taking the three of us so far in the past sucked it dry,” Billy said. He stared in the direction the dust disappeared, scratching his head. “We’re stuck here. Completely stuck here.”
“There’s got to be a way. It’s magic. There’s always a way.”
Quinn didn’t feel very confident in his words, but if the possibility existed, he would find it. Since only one group of magicians lived in the New World at that time, they really had no other choice where to head next.
“Concord it is, then,” he said with a sigh.
Billy flashed his brows and smiled impishly. “In a way it’s kind of cool to be in the past. I can’t wait to see what it’s like, see how powerful the old magicians were.”
“We should be careful,” Heidi interjected. “They were more powerful, but so were the misfits. Remember, the talented didn’t really gain control of the magical world until the World Wars. We should be on the lookout for the misfits. They’ll be hunting for magicians to keep them from building libraries, and we’re sitting ducks out here alone.”
“We can stand toe to toe with them.” Billy cracked his knuckles and rolled his shoulders. “You’re half misfit yourself, I’m a dark magician, and Quinn’s the Misfit King. If anything I’d say we should be more afraid of the magicians finding out who we really are and not some crusty old witches or warlocks.”
Billy and Heidi sniped back and forth about who their greatest enemy would be while Quinn took a few deep breaths and let his senses seep into the world. An odd feeling nipped at the edge of his mind. The peculiar, calm, and deep force he felt when he first woke in the past whispered sweetly in his thoughts, begging for discovery.
He peered into the forest and inched closer to the trees, his footsteps coaxed by the power’s soothing vibrations. Each step nearer he drew, the more the magic enveloped him like the gentle waves of a rising tide. He squeezed between a wall of pines, grabbing their rough trunks as he passed within their cool shadows.
Beyond the trees the forest gave way to a meadow. Soft grass waved in a breeze that came not from the sky, but from a moss-cloaked boulder waiting in the field’s heart.
Quinn edged into the swaying grasses. He inched toward the boulder. Each step brought another wave of warm power billowing from the stone. He reached the rock and hesitated, his hand wavering over its pockmarked an d mossy surface.
Three symbols were carved into its top. One was a square. Within the square, a circle. Within the circle, an equilateral triangle. Quinn frowned, his fingers slowly moving toward the symbol.
“Arcane geometry? But if the only magicians in the New World are in Concord, how did this get here?”
Swallowing, he pressed his finger onto the symbol. The geometry flared like it held starlight within it, and a deep, hot force shot through his arm. The magic raced into his shoulder and ignited his heart. Quinn gasped, and his eyes shot wide. His mind swam in a boiling ocean of power so ancient and so mighty it threatened to swallow him as easily as a whale might swallow plankton.
It reached for him. It wanted him.
Quinn’s mind began slipping into the power. His world dimmed until only a point of light remained, and he knew, somewhere deep down inside him, that he would drown in the deep ocean of power he’d foolishly awoken.
A hand clasped his shoulder and yanked him from the darkness. The pinprick of light that was his world expanded, and he returned to Woods Island, covered in a cold sweat.
Heidi and Billy stared at him. He blinked and tugged them both farther from the boulder. “That was intense.”
Billy eyed the stone with a mixture of curiosity and unease. “What is it?”
“I don’t know, but it’s powerful whatever it is. And it’s got arcane geometry carved on it.”
“It’s magic?” Billy frowned at the boulder, shifting to his tiptoes so he could glimpse the inscription on the rock. “That’s not possible. The magicians are in Concord.”
Heidi exhaled. She shook her head and backed away. “I don’t like any of this. This isn’t right. It shouldn’t be here. We shouldn’t be here.”
Quinn stepped toward Heidi and smiled. “Don’t worry. We’ll find the magicians and find a way out of here. At least nobody’s on the island. Could you imagine the kind of questions we’d have to answer if we just zapped into existence in the middle of Hilltop’s courtyard?”
A fallen branch cracked beyond the wall of trees. Heidi’s eyes shot wide. Billy tensed. Quinn held his hands at the ready and scanned the bushes.
“At least I thought we were alone,” he whispered.
Another branch cracked. A sigh slipped through the shadows just outside the light. Quinn grit his teeth and narrowed his eyes.
“Come out!” he called. “We heard you. No use hiding.”
They waited for a reply, staring in the direction they last heard the noise. At first, nothing answered Quinn’s call. Then, two points of light lit the shadows, two glittering eyes reflecting the silvery starlight from above. A low growl rumbled from beneath the eyes and vibrated through Quinn’s chest.
“Why have you come here?” a voice asked as soft as a sigh that couldn’t mask the power within it.
Billy stepped forward. “Come out! We don’t talk to monsters that hide in shadows. You come where we can see you. Then maybe we’ll talk.”
“Billy,” Heidi hissed, “you’re going to get us killed!”
Billy snorted and thrust his shoulders back. “Please, what could take on the three of us?”
The hidden voice stepped from its hiding place. It stalked between the trees walling them in, and the moonlight lit its features.
It was a wolf coated in thick, grey fur. Its eyes were as cold and silver as the moon, and even hunched on its four paws it stood taller than any of them.
It bared its fangs, its lips sliding up its snout as its nostrils flared. “I smell you, tortured ones,” it growled. “You have stolen magic in your hearts, and you have come to steal the magic of this place to make more of your cursed kind.”
“It’s not like that,” Quinn said.
“So you three have not been touch by tortured magic?”
The young magicians exchanged glances with one another. Heidi grimaced. Billy rubbed the back of his neck and smiled sheepishly.
Quinn shrugged and sucked in a breath through the wall of his teeth. “Well, it’s kind of complicated…”
An eagle shrieked and split the air. It dove into the clearing, its body bursting in a cloud of feathers. It grew arms and legs and landed in the glade on two human feet. The feathers falling from its wings swirled around its head and became long, dark hair. Its sharp beak shrank into a smooth nose set against high cheeks framing the dark eyes of a young woman.
She wore animal skins and a beaded collar, and she looked upon them with a hard gaze brought by seasons where every choice affected her survival. Intricate geometric designs tattooing her arms told Quinn all he needed to know about what deadly things her fingers could summon into the world.
“Who are these trespassers, Atian?” the woman asked.
The wolf turned toward her. “They are tortured ones, Mali,” it said. “Their taint is unmistakable.”
She lifted her chin, her features hardening. “Then they must die.”
Quinn held up his hands. “No, no, you’ve got it all wrong!”
“Lies! You die tonight, tainted vermin!” The woman called Mali ran her hand down her tattooed arm, and the symbols flared. The great wolf howled and charged, his fangs dripping and eyes gleaming.
CHAPTER TWO
Greetings from the Abenaki
Nehemiah fumbled with the thick spell book. Long wisps of his already thinning hair fell over his eyes. He blew the strands out of his vision with a quick puff, double-checking to make sure he had exactly the right book.
Elijah would kill him if he didn’t get it to him soon. On second thought, even if Nehemiah did get the book to the man in time, Elijah would probably still find a way to punish him.
He winced, already feeling the lashings flaring in hot lines on his back. Slamming the tome shut, Nehemiah raced out of the home and into the dark streets of Concord. His feet beat against the old road. He passed the mill, Mr. Gooding leaning against the building’s door while he nursed a corncob pipe. “Be careful there, lad, you’re liable to drop that book into the mud if you don’t watch where your feet fall.”
“It’s okay, Mr. Gooding!” Nehemiah smiled as he bounded around the lane. “I’ve got it!”
Two dark horses in full trot greeted Nehemiah. Nehemiah yelped. The horses reared and snorted, their hooves rising and beating furiously at the air.
He barely missed the hooves as they smashed onto the muddy road. The carriage driver whipped the reins and barreled past as he spat a curse at Nehemiah.
The young magician leapt backward, and his heel planted into a puddle slick as silk on ice. He swung his arms to catch his balance, and in a single, horrible moment, the book flew from his arms.
It spun like a cyclone through the air. Nehemiah lunged for the spell book, but his fingers missed its pages by a hair. It landed with a brown splash and slid down the lane.
Nehemiah saw the pile of horse manure. He winced, knowing he missed his chance to stop the book’s slide. Its leather cover slammed into the pile of rotten clumps that slopped over the leather and stained its pages.
He closed his eyes. He listened to his breath. He opened them and watched horseflies buzz around the filthy tome.
“No, no, no…” Nehemiah sprinted for the book, skidding to a halt above the mess. He buried his face in his hands and groaned. Elijah would give him such a beating, maybe the worst he’d ever had.
With a long and tired sigh, he pulled the spell book from the dung. Clumps of manure collected on the leather tome and fell in stinking drops at his feet. Grimacing, he shook the filth from the pages as best he could. It would never be clean enough for Elijah.
“I’m such a fool,” Nehemiah said. “Such an idiot and a fool!”
With a last, frustrated mumble, he tucked the filthy book beneath his arm and made his way to the cabin. His pace slowed as the dread of his coming punishment sunk through his skin like a thick poison.
Along the way, he passed Ms. Kilpatrick. She grimaced when he approached and held a sleeve against her nose. “Take a bath, boy! You reek so bad the devil would kick you out of hell himself.”
Nehemiah lowered his head. “Sorry, Ms. Kilpatrick. I’ll clean up soon.”
She guffawed and turned away. He rounded a corner and nearly stumbled into Mr. and Mrs. Evans.
