go of the reins, and before I could blink, he soared skyward as a black bird. He made a couple of circles over my head and dropped back into the saddle. His transformation had happened with lightning speed. In just a second Reeve was back in his human form, looking at me, but with interest.
“Cool.” I said the only thing that came to mind.
“What can you do?” he asked.
I looked into his eyes. They were black and bottomless. I had never seen eyes like this before. I focused, but nothing happened for a long time. Blood was slowly reaching my temples, and they throbbed harder and harder. My head started spinning. Again, there was that strange feeling that I was going to pass out, when suddenly we found ourselves in the middle of a tropical jungle. I exhaled. It worked! Reeve looked around in surprise. He touched a vine hanging over his head and stared at me.
“It’s real!” he cried.
The more he saw and touched, the more detail appeared. Now there were birds and snakes, and the jungle was filled with sounds. The air grew hotter and wetter. Now Reeve was part of my fantasy, as once I was part of the Mentor’s fantasy farmhouse. The horses snorted, and I didn’t know whether they saw the illusion, or whether for them, we were still standing in the middle of a snow-covered forest. Meanwhile, Reeve dismounted, squatted down and began to examine the insects that were crawling on the ground.
“This is awesome!” he said at last. We were back in the winter forest. “Uncle Henry thinks a lot of you”, he said, getting on a horse. “Now I know why.”
That’s how I learned that the real name of my Mentor was Henry or Henrich, but for some reason he had always hidden this from me.
“You must know your Uncle Henry very well, huh?”
“Oh no, not really,” he said. “But he was very kind to me. After what happened, he took me even though he didn’t have to. I am grateful to him for that.” Reeve immediately grew sad, and I decided not to ask him what happened to his family.
My interactions with Reeve really helped me. I finally perfected the skill of creating illusions, and it wasn’t so difficult as it turned out. The most important thing was to create a shell, and the human imagination would fill it with all the necessary stuff. My first illusions were simple and a bit ridiculous in their naivety. For Reeve, I created fabulous palaces from popular computer games, crowded supermarkets, cities I’d never been to. Reeve didn’t teach me much, except some useful tricks like moving objects or making fire. We had a good time together, but we only ever talked about magic. He didn’t tell about himself, and I didn’t ask. I understood him, as I also wouldn’t be eager to share my feelings with strangers.
Once, I asked him: “Is this your first time in Europe?”
“Yes,” he replied using a one word answer as usual, and I was preparing for another pause in our conversation when he continued to speak. We were in the hall of arms. Reeve took an old sword from the wall and now was turning it over in his hands.
“I’ve never been so far from home,” he said. His finger gently touched the blade. “But I have no home anymore.” Reeve waved the sword. “You know, Ravens have always lived apart. We had our own island, and we didn’t like strangers, but about once every 10 years some of us were sent out into the world.” He stretched out his hand with the sword and watched as the light reflected on the blackened metal. “The world is changing quickly, it’s hard to keep up with it. And this time, I was chosen. I had to become a private school student.” He moved the blade from side to side. “I was brought to Los Angeles and left alone. By my second day, before I’d even had time to get acquainted with the class, I just knew that there was something wrong, and I needed to go home. Ravens never meddled in the affairs of others. They didn’t cause any harm to anyone, and they spoke to nobody else. Absolutely nobody. Who could have done this? I just don’t know.” Reeve put the sword back on the wall. I was impressed by his self-control. Not a single muscle moved on his face, and his eyes were still dark and cold. “Someone killed them all. Everyone. No-one was left… ” again he ran his hand over the blade, “… except me. I’m going to find out who did it and I will destroy them without mercy, just like they did to us.” He turned away from the sword and looked right at me.
I was embarrassed. I felt an almost physical wave of coldness and hatred emanating from him. His eyes were burning with fire, but in a moment that hostility evaporated, and he was back to normal again. The change was striking, as if two different personalities lived within him. It would only take me six months or so to learn to do exactly the same.
When he left with the Mentor, the castle seemed particularly empty and dreary. Although I had Alicia, my silent friend, she could not talk to me, so I had no choice but to take up books again. The Mentor had left some out for me.
13
When the snow melted, I went back to work in the vineyard, though it was no longer necessary. The manual labour in the open air was more like entertainment for me, especially now I’d finally learnt to use my magic. It seemed to me then that my powers knew no bounds. I didn’t have to make much of an effort to summon it anymore. On the contrary, I could hardly restrain it. It’s hard to describe what was going on in my bedroom at night. I entered into a world of nightmares, a world in which my past life was trying to break out. Broken glass, overturned tables and other stuff was scattered around, creating a special kind of décor in my bedroom.
I continued to explore the castle. One stormy night in May, I reached my last area of exploration – the northern wing. I stood at the enormous open door and peered into the darkness. For a moment, a bolt of lightning illuminated ancient vaults, and echoing thunder reverberated through the castle. Again, the darkness surrounded me. I could barely even see the outlines. Noises and strange sounds were coming from all sides, and they made the blood in my veins run cold. I tried to concentrate. I knew that chandeliers hung on the walls, as there was no electricity in the castle. One minute, two, ten. Finally, hundreds of candles flared and disturbed the sleeping bats, who flew away screeching.
I was highly impressed with what I saw. At the end of a long, wide hallway there was a huge set of double doors with a family coat of arms carved into them. In one of the musty corners, I saw the whitened bones of a chained skeleton. Between the peeling columns stood statues of once beautiful ladies and gentlemen, covered with dried wax and keeping watch over centuries of history, along with the bats and other creatures that dwelled there. Antique candleholders were covered with dust and cobwebs. The webs were everywhere. They were hanging from the ceiling and covering the walls in fanciful shapes. Trying not to breathe in the acrid smell of old, burnt wax and desperately fighting the urge to run away, I went ahead. The sound of my footsteps echoed sharply in the sudden silence.
As I reached the end of the hallway, I looked back. There the lights were flickering, and nature was raging. But here, in this deathly silence, I heard only my jerky breathing. I thought I felt a presence, but I told myself not to think about it and pulled the dusty door handle. It was in the shape of a wolf’s head. The decayed door didn’t yield, and suddenly, I was no longer scared, I was curious. I took a few steps back, closed my eyes and focused all my energies on the door. The surrounding space was now filled with rustling sounds and I felt the rage of nature, but I paid no attention.
“Doors, open! Open the doors!”
I repeated that phrase as a spell. And they opened. For a few seconds, a blood-curdling squeal drowned out all other sounds. A gust of wind nearly knocked me off my feet and put out the candles. The howling wind became louder. Lightning lit up the room. A chill ran down my back and I spun around. Darkness surrounded me like velvet.
There’s nothing to be afraid of, I tried to convince myself as I relit the candles. I looked around.
