All The Dark Places

37. Hex Arcana

    The sickness came in waves. Hours passed, and she came awake in short bursts of energy, each time waking with a start and panic. Arnav rushed to her side each time, taking a break from bouncing a rubber ball against a stone wall over and over again. She missed the soft moss and cool waters of the creek, but Ethan would meet her at the rectory, and she could not miss him. Arnav took her water bottle from the messenger bag and made frequent trips out to the creek to refill the bottle and carefully wet her forehead to soothe her fever. When she woke, he helped her stand until she could stand on her own. With each wave of sickness came something new and terrifying. In between, she dreamed. Her dreams were lucid, and she could not discern between dream and reality.

"What did you dream?" he asked each time, excited and taking the role of sentinel.

The first time, she told him of the dreams without his asking.

"I dreamed that I was walking through other people's dreams. I was walking through carrying a red candle that was melting all over my hand and burned more like a torch than a candle. I could see Ramona there, and Deka, and Scott and Father Gareth and... I think... Ethan but he flickered in and out like he might not be there at all. I was telling them about this; about hiding at the rectory, and a battle going to happen, that I need their help."

"It could be a message," he said, almost jumping up and down with excitement. "You could be sending them a message telepathically."

"In my dreams?"

"Maybe in their dreams!"

"Oh, I'm going to be sick," she warned. "I don't have anything left to throw up."

"Try to sleep. I'll guard the doors."

And she slept.

The second time she woke, she sat up ramrod straight and gasped, clutching her heart. He rushed to her side, abandoning his rubber ball.

"What is it?" he asked.

"People bleeding... through their eyes, their noses, their mouths!"

"What did you dream?" he stroked her wet hair, a kind gesture she did not reject.

"In the castle courtyard, three tables were set up, like a court room with a judge and jury and the plaintiff and defendant. In front of that was a five pointed star drawn in chalk and at each point there was a candle; blue, red, green, white and one in the center that was marbled in color and surrounded by a thin circle of salt. I saw myself standing in front of that candle, cutting my hand and dripping blood in the center of the salt..."

"And then..." he pressed.

"Then... I stood in front of the star, and this man was brought into the middle of the star, next to the marbled candle and salt. People were crowded around, everyone watching, and this man... it was Winston Abrams! He was answering questions. I couldn't hear what he was being asked, but I could see his face suddenly contort and then my hand began bleeding again and his face... Oh my God, his face began bleeding! His nose, his eyes, his mouth, even his ears trickled with blood, and everyone began yelling 'Liar!' at him. Then I picked up the center candle and dripped wax over the wound in my hand, and it stopped bleeding. And he stopped bleeding. And then... then..."

"What happened?"

"I saw myself hanging from the gallows."

"Oh shit."

"Yeah. What the hell could that mean?"

"It means... we need candles. It means that you have some serious abilities. That thing stung me with one stinger. Look," He held out his arm, and she saw one puncture wound. "But it got you with five, maybe six? I think that means you have a lot more power than I do. A half a dozen stingers equal a half a dozen more powers. I think."

"It makes sense as much as anything else does."

"We could practice on me," he offered.

"And make you bleed? No, Arnav. I wouldn't do that. She ruffled his hair and he blushed.

"Look, it's like you have spells. In gaming, mages have spells, right? Maybe we should just look at it like that. You're a mage with spells, and we need to figure out your spell book and how to use the spells without blowing anything up. Right?"

"Makes sense." She nodded.

"OK, and each spell has a difficulty class and a drain on your mana pool. Your energy, you know? And what components do you need to do the spell? Like, the candles are components and the salt, the chalk and the torch. Maybe you need those, or maybe you don't. We don't know. Or maybe you need components at first level because you're squishy and later on when you level up, you can cast without material components. That's a feat."

"Arnav, I don't understand any of that."

He sighed.

"I know, but it would be smart to assign a system to the way we do things. It doesn't have to be gaming, of course, but that's the only system with rules and calculations for magic that I know. I mean, there has to be a terminology for what we're talking about here and as stupid as it might sound, Swords & Sorcery makes for a pretty good system."

"It just seems..."

"Stupid. Yeah, I know. You might think I am a nutter for doing this, but the thing is, I know how crazy this all sounds. I'm self-aware, you know. People around here have always thought I was a loser. I'm a nerd. I play Swords & Sorcery. I'm in math club and chess club and... well, I don't do well with girls. But the thing is, I've always been waiting for something like this to happen. That's crazy, yeah, but true. I used to write short stories about going through a dimensional portal to this place I made up. I called it Tallerny and that was my fantasy world, and in Tallerny no one bullied me or shunned me. I was important there because I had skills and brains and people in Tallerny valued that. I never turned into some muscled up knight in Tallerny either. I was just... myself, and that was good enough. I don't like the world we used to live in, Rosalind. This new world? I might like it better. We all have a role to play, and I can carve out mine and be something."

"I wish I knew what my role was here," she said, feeling the fever start again.

"I can tell you." Arnav said matter-of-factly. "You're the witch of Thornwood."

"A witch, no less." She half-smiled. "It sounds mad. The Witch Of Thornwood. Hmm, it's missing something."

"The Mad Witch Of Thornwood," he offered, grinning.

"Why does it have to be the Mad Witch Of Thornwood? Why not the clever witch, or the pretty decent witch of Thornwood?"

"Whatever it is, you're no longer a mundane."

"A mundane?"

"Normal," he explained.

"I was never normal."

"Neither was I. Now I apparently have enhanced strength. I've been testing it while you sleep. I can't just lift things up though. It's not effortless. I have to calculate the object's weight, cubic mass, and shape. I have to calculate compression and tension. My head fills with numbers and then I can pick it up or push it or do what I need to do. It's math. I could have become a gallant knight with super strength, but no, I am the Math Knight."

She nodded and felt an affinity with Arnav she had not felt before. He was accepting this and even embracing it, and that might make him the strongest of them all.

"Well, I think you are a gallant knight, Arnav. You've certainly been chivalrous toward me, and I cannot thank you enough."

He stood up then, standing at attention and made a courtly bow, then took her water bottle to go to the creek nearby. She dozed off into unstressed sleep, the sleep of exhaustion, ebbing and flowing, dreamless and tidal.