carving a circle through the water with his free hand. As his hand sliced through the water it left a trail of light until they were encircled in it. Immediately, they were surrounded by creatures. Their heads were each larger than a man’s torso, and their necks arched high beyond the reach of the light and back down into the water concealing what must have been behemoth-size bodies. The closest slowly opened its jaws and extended a tubular tongue toward the pair. The moment it breached the circle of light it recoiled in pain. All the creatures let out horrible shrieks and lunged at the men. Without warning the pair began falling through the water at great speed through a tube of light. A moment later they surfaced. They were outside. Free.
Despite the overcast weather, the men squinted, allowing their eyes to adjust to the brightness. Sheer cliffs broke the rolling waves not far from where the men floated. Akil looked at Ogilvy and said politely, “David, you may release my arm now.” Ogilvy looked at Akil’s hand, which had turned white from lack of blood, and released his grip. Akil began to swim toward a low rock formation that stretched out into the sea from the cliffs. Ogilvy followed. They scrambled up onto the rocks and walked a short distance through a narrow natural archway that opened up to a set of steps that had been hewn in the stone centuries ago. Moored at the bottom of the steps was a small sailboat. With the agility of a much younger man, Akil made his way to the boat and Ogilvy followed. Their journey on the water was not at an end.
The orb contracted and Ogilvy continued his narration.
“Because of my diminished state, I don’t remember much from the next part of our voyage. I stumbled upon the deck and collapsed shivering, dehydrated, and exhausted. The next thing I recall, the sun was just cresting the horizon, backlighting the hills that surrounded the harbor Akil had sailed into. I sat up in the boat, looking for Akil, but I discovered no sign of him. Men were moving about the docks readying for a day of fishing. I was wearing new, dry clothes, yet I had no recollection of having changed.”
“Why didn’t you transport once you were clear of the prison’s enchantments?” James asked.
“James, allow Mr. Ogilvy to finish,” Margaret admonished.
Yet another orb filled the room and the group watched with intrigue.
Ogilvy made his way to the dock. There was no sign of Akil. Numerous boats, all much larger than the boat he had just disembarked were moored along the dock. At the end of the dock stood a saloon. Ogilvy allowed his hunger to dictate his first destination, and he pulled on the large wooden door, upon which was inscribed with the name The Thrush’s Nest. The bar was crowded with fishermen. Each had a drink in his hand, and none acknowledged Ogilvy as he entered. Every one of them was captivated by the storytelling of a man in the center of the crowd. Ogilvy smiled at the familiar voice. It was Akil.
“You see, my friends, there is nothing to fear from magic. The power to wield it lies within each and every one of you, should you chose to use it. The fear of it is what prompts some men to demonize it. Do not let other men make up your minds. Discover the truth, which is generally less grandiose or threatening than the truth those who wish to sway your opinions speak. Mortal peril or perpetual danger can be highly motivating for those who believe in it.”
All of the men nodded as a class of schoolboys would nod at their professor after being told a simple truth that had long eluded them. Finally, someone noticed Ogilvy and turned in his direction. The rest of the crowd turned as well, revealing Akil, who was seated at the bar, drink in his hand.
“Ah, I see my traveling companion has finally woken,” he said with a smile, rising to his feet. “I am most gracious to all of you for allowing me to share but a glimpse into my world. I trust you will all take what I’ve shown you here today into consideration before passing judgment on our kind in the future.”
The crowd nodded emphatically at this and several of the men patted him on the back as he moved toward the door. Akil gave Ogilvy a wink and walked past. The door to The Thrush’s Nest closed behind them, and they were alone on the wooden boardwalk that lined the harbor. Ogilvy looked quizzically at Akil but said nothing.
“I imagine you’re wondering why I divulged the secrets of our kind so readily to the so-called unfaithful?”
“Well, I’ve never seen anyone be so candid about… us with… them,” Ogilvy said.
“The very object of all our efforts is to avoid a war between the magical and nonmagical. Those men may second guess the next time someone tells them sorcerers are a threat to their existence. It makes it difficult to make war when the will of the people is against you.”
They began to walk, following the ever-widening pathway as it transitioned from wood to cobblestones. The street was lined with three-story structures. Merchants were beginning to stir but were not quite as active as the fishermen down on the docks. Akil led Ogilvy into an unmarked door, up a set of narrow wooden steps, and down a dimly lit hall to a small room. It was furnished with a small bed, a rickety-looking round table, and a pair of mismatched wooden chairs. He offered Ogilvy a seat and took the opposite. His grin was contagious, and soon both were smiling at each other like fools. Finally, Akil spoke.
“I’ve done it. All their research and resources, and they were beaten by a simple old man. Quite spectacularly, I might add.”
Akil had a look about him that could be best described as boastful arrogance. He rubbed his hands together as if warming them over a fire and leaned in across the small table.
“What?” Ogilvy asked, taking the bait.
“I’ve reversed what they considered irreversible. They’ve been working for decades to come up with a way to irreversibly alter minds, and every time they’d thought they finally accomplished it, their subject either went blitheringly mad or someone managed to reverse the hex-every time until about eleven years ago, that is.”
Akil stood and began pacing the room excitedly.
“Eleven years ago Alvaro was able to procure the services of a sorcerer previously thought unprocurable. He had sworn never to do magic again and somehow Alvaro was able to change his mind. He is a great sorcerer, although I doubt you’ve ever heard of him. He is slightly before your time. His name is-”
“Alexander Vinokourov,” Ogilvy interrupted.
“So you have heard of him. Marvelous. I trust then, that you are aware of the reason he swore to never use magic again and the accomplishments that gained him his notoriety.”
“I have a limited knowledge. My father used his story to frighten me to sleep as a child. He told me Vinokourov the Terrible was a dark sorcerer. He worked for many heads of state, training them in the dark powers. In his story he said Vinokourov was killed in the last great battle. I always thought he was just a myth.”
“I’m afraid not on both counts. Vinokourov the Terrible was not quite as terrible as he’s been made out in children’s stories, but he was indeed a master of the powers some consider dark.”
Akil had a look of admiration, which Ogilvy, noticeably, found somewhat disturbing.
“Alexander changed the way we do magic. His discoveries have allowed us to peacefully coexist with unfaithful. It’s ironic that he was such a staunch supporter of eliminating them from existence.”
Akil paused for a moment, reflecting yet not sharing his thoughts. He continued: “Rumors of his death are legendary. Smote by the great sorcerer from the Far East in an epic battle. In my travels I visited where Alexander was born in Petroavlovsk in hopes of finding some evidence of his survival for I’d been hearing rumors of sightings of him over the years. This led me to the Scottish highlands, where the supposed battle took place. It was here the trail of evidence abruptly came to an end. It turns out the events that took place during that battle as well as the ultimate outcome are nothing but mere speculation.”
“And how do you know this?” Ogilvy asked.
“When the trail of evidence ended I returned to London and continued my studies. Always in the back of my mind was the desire to uncover the truth about what happened to Alexander Vinokourov. When Alvaro, who was a peer of mine at the council training program- and, I must say, who was rather less gifted than I in the powers of magic yet rather more gifted in the powers of persuasion-when he finally came into power, I knew what he wished for our kind and for those who did not believe. He spoke of it often as a student. It was then that I decided to keep watch over Alvaro. If I were to dissuade others from falling for his persuasive rhetoric, I needed to know what he was up to.”
“During one of my reconnaissance missions I discovered the place where you had been held prisoner. Alvaro calls it Cetus. I am quite certain he is not responsible for its original construction. It is here where he conducts business that is beyond the scope of legality. Unlike his predecessors, who were bent on uncovering dark powers that would enable them to forcefully and violently overthrow their opposition, Alvaro solely focused on mind altering. He believes that if he can alter the minds of his opposition he can control their will and have ultimate power. Winning the minds of those who oppose you is much more powerful a feat than forcefully overthrowing them.”
