“That, I’m afraid, is a restricted area.”
James thought of dragons and super-weapons and dungeons.
“Let’s keep moving please,” Alvaro said, bringing James back to reality. “There’s much to see.”
The first floor was far brighter and free of the smell Jonathan had been kind enough to point out. People rushed in and out of two arched doorways directly across from the stairwell. The ones coming out looked dirtied and disheveled compared to the ones going in. A loud boom followed by several short snaps echoed out of the doorway.
“This is our incantation experimentation office. It is where new incantations are tested. As you can see, sometimes it can be a messy business. Lets continue,” Alvaro said, moving down the corridor.
A nervous-looking guard quickly stepped from an adjoining corridor and whispered into Alvaro’s ear. Alvaro’s face went pale.
“Please excuse me. I must cut our tour short. Urgent business to attend.”
He turned and practically ran down the stairs they had just ascended. James and his mother exchanged confused glances but said nothing. The guard who had delivered the urgent news stepped forward.
“Master Alvaro has asked me to escort you to the exit.”
Margaret nodded, and she and James followed silently.
After more twists and turns than either of them could count, James and his mother finally reached the steps that would lead them to the covered walkway that stretched into the forest. The guard nodded, and they moved toward the walkway. Neither James nor Margaret spoke as they made their way along the walkway. They descended the steps at the far end and walked toward the edge of the forest where they had arrived just a few hours previously.
Once they stepped into the forest, James stopped. “That man we saw. The one who was looking at us. I’ve seen him before.”
Margaret stared into his eyes. “That man is dead. Whoever we saw today is an imposter. Remember, James, magic is a deceiver’s best friend. We must be hesitant in our trust of anyone.”
“Especially the dead,” a voice from behind them said. They both turned toward the sound.
David Ogilvy stood alone, looking at them. He looked thinner. His face had hardened, his eyes unsure.
“Who are you?” Margaret asked.
“It is I, Margaret. David.”
Without hesitating, Margaret removed a pinch of transporting powder and let the granules encase them in a purple mist. David Ogilvy was left standing alone in the forest.
— 20 -
James stepped through the entry just behind Luno. To his surprise, it was as if the light from an overcast day spilled through an unseen window. The room was nothing but a square, no larger than the main hall at his parent’s home. The walls and floors of this room were roughly cut grey stone. James looked up at the ceiling. Far above him were what looked like clouds. They churned in a clockwise direction. Based on their darkened color, James thought it might rain at any moment. He turned to comment to Luno, but Luno was gone.
James quickly moved back toward the door. He extended his hand behind him, not wanting to turn his back on the open room but felt only the cold stone wall as he searched for the handle. His heart began to beat faster. The far wall had been engulfed in what looked like fog. James drew his sword and attempted to clear his mind.
A dark shape appeared in the mist. James’s hands began to shake as he was consumed by an overwhelming fear. The shape moved silently toward him-or was it only the fog? Fearing his knees would buckle beneath him if he didn’t move, James began to walk along the wall, never taking his eyes off the dark shape.
The mist began to recede, revealing a man. The fog lifted up from the floor exposing the man’s boots and the hem of his traveling cloak. It continued upward until the man’s entire body could be seen. His hood cast an unnatural shadow across his face, making it unidentifiable.
“Who are you?” James asked, surprised by the fear in his own voice.
“It is I. Your father,” Stuart said, pulling back his hood and revealing his face.
James immediately fell to his knees, his entire body trembling. He knew what he was seeing was impossible, yet in his heart, he wanted it to be true above all else. The man walked to James and put a gentle hand on his head.
“Son,” Stuart said, lifting James’s chin so he could make eye contact. Tears began streaming down James’s face. “Rise, my son. We have much to discuss,” Stuart said, grasping him beneath the arm.
James attempted to rise only to fall to the floor again. He wept uncontrollably. He attempted to gain control, attempted to stand, but every time he looked at his father, his guilt and emptiness shook his very core and sent him back to his knees. After a moment, Stuart spoke again.
“Son, look at me.”
James slowly raised his head and looked at his tear-blurred father.
“It’s okay. I’m here.”
The tears stopped and his body ceased shaking. When James was able to get to his feet, he realized he stood over a head taller than his father. The pair embraced.
“I’m sorry,” James whispered into his father’s ear as they held each other.
“Sorry? For what?” Stuart asked.
“It’s my fault.”
“What is your fault, Son?”
“That day you were captured in the forest of Arenberg. I came to rescue you and everyone died. It was an acci-”
“Boy, do I look dead to you? After I woke from whatever magic had rendered me unconscious, I was taken to one of Alvaro’s secret prisons. It didn’t take them long to figure out I was better off as far from you as possible, so they sent me here.”
James was overwhelmed with emotion. He had believed he was the cause of his father’s death for so long. Every day he had lived with that guilt. The guilt of taking his father from his mother, whom he saw crying every night for months after the “accident.” Along with the guilt came the extreme sense of loss. That day had cleaved a hole in his heart, and now, standing before him, his father was alive.
“I see it. I see it in your eyes and your face and the way you carry yourself,” Stuart said.
“What do you see?” James asked.
“You have unnecessarily burdened yourself with guilt.”
“Father, I cannot lie. It has plagued me every day since your loss.”
“Even if I had been killed, it would have been foolish to blame yourself. You were but a child. What happened that day was beyond your understanding or ability to control. Do you agree?”
“Yes but-”
“But you still lived with the guilt despite knowing you couldn’t have stopped what happened that night even if you had wanted to.”
“Every night for a year, I would wake up screaming your name. Every night I would run to mother for consolation and find her crying herself to sleep,” James said.
“Every man has a choice, James. He can allow his emotions to control him or he can control his emotions. Time and time again I’ve told you the importance of this control. It affects our ability to perform magic. You, no doubt, have struggled with your training since that night.”
“Why is this relevant now, Father? I passed my trials faster than any sorcerer before me, and have become so powerful the council fears my very existence.”
“It does matter, Son. You carry a heavy burden. You carry the expectations of the people of our world. You are the Anointed One. And now you are here, banished and powerless.
“Are you saying it is my fault I’ve been banished?”
“Yes,” Stuart replied coldly.
James hung his head and turned away from his father. He could feel the anger and frustration churning beneath the surface and did not want it to show. After all this time, after all he’d done, he was being reprimanded like a child.
“What must I do?” James asked.
“Let go of your guilt. Let go of your anger. You have enough to deal with without this additional burden.”