The
Awakening
My last memory, before the darkness took me, was hearing the droning
of Swayvill's pet vizier as he cast the spell of imprisonment upon me, and
looking into Sarah Chanicut's stern gaze. It held the promise of
mercy...and later revenge. "We will outlive this," she told me, in those
final moments as my limbs stiffened and my lips turned cold and no scream
could escape me.
Some dreamless time later, still muttering that phrase, I awoke to
find myself lying in a large canopied bed, awash in crimson satin. The
room was dark, save for a few candles on the mirrored vanity on the far
wall. I glanced quickly around, the dim light allowing me to make out
some details of my surroundings, and I was relieved to note that I
appeared to be alone. There was an armoire, a vanity, the bed on which I
lay, a pair of glass doors leading to a balcony outside, and a half-open
door leading to a parlor. I could see a night sky visible through the
balcony doors, but the sky was overcast and there were no stars visible to
orient myself. As for the room itself, it was familiar in its styling,
but not a room that I had ever seen before. Looking down at my body, I
observed that I no longer possessed the clothing I had been wearing when I
was imprisoned. Instead, someone had clothed me in a modest nightgown,
with a housecoat is draped over a chair beside the bed. The realization
that I had been unconscious while someone changed my clothing did nothing
good for my state of mind. I decided not to examine that thought too
closely until I knew more about where I was, who had released me, and most
importantly, what they wanted.
I sat up carefully, just in case there were any lingering effects from
either the spell that had imprisoned me, or the one that must have been
cast to free me. Surprisingly, I felt quite rested and strong, with no
stiffness in any of my muscles. In fact, the only discomfort I felt came
from the sudden realization that I was rather thirsty. Thus encouraged, I
swung my legs over the edge of the bed, put on the housecoat, and
attempted to stand. Again, I encountered no difficulties. With this
accomplished, I began a more careful examination of the room, striving to
find something that might tell me where I was, keeping a wary ear open for
approaching voices as I did so. I found nothing useful in my search, but
I did begin to hear distant music coming in through the open door to the
parlor. It did not sound like a piano, the pitch of each note sounding
thin and metallic, and I did not recognize the music. I continued to
monitor the sound, for as long as it continued, I knew where one of the
inhabitants of this place was.
My next act was to attempt to conjure myself a glass of water to
assuage my thirst, which had not diminished while I was exploring. The
energies began to gather as usual, but then, abruptly, they dissipated. I
frowned, my thirst momentarily forgotten. This was not what I had been
expecting. Usually conjuration either works, or it does not. Never
before had I encountered such a reaction, not even in places where magic
did not work at all. That was obviously not the case here. There was
magical energy present - quite strong magic, actually - but it was
different than what it should have been. I tried a scrying spell next,
with similarly frustrating results. I was beginning to detect a pattern,
however, one that gave me hope that, with further analysis, I might be
able to get my spells to function properly. Naturally, I immediately set
about doing so. Being without my spells left me feeling rather...naked.
It was not a feeling I particularly enjoyed. The magic proved trickier to
analyze than I would have guessed, helped in no small amount by the degree
by which the level of magic in this place seemed to fluctuate. In the
end, I needed to create an additional lynchpin to account for this, and I
was in no way certain that it would be enough for my more powerful spells.
I was confident that I could manage simple spells, however, at least for
the next twelve hours. And that was far better than no spells at all.
As I finally completed my analysis, the music I had been hearing came
to a halt. I quickly conjured myself some more appropriate clothing,
determined that whoever was the master of this place, I was not
going to meet them clothed only in a nightgown and housecoat. Conjuring
the clothing itself did not take too long, there being plenty of energy to
draw on. Dressing, however, proved a somewhat more time consuming task,
especially tying the corset myself, but I was soon outfitted as a proper
lady. Well, a proper lady for England during the Regency, but as I had no
idea what would be considered proper in this place, my preferred mode of
dress would have to do.
Once I was suitably attired, I erected the protective spells that I
had felt so naked without, and felt rather more assured once they settled
into place. It was as I began my next spell, the scrying spell I had
unsuccessfully attempted before, that a cold draft blew across my cheek,
chilling me. Before I could even pinpoint the source of the draft, a warm
shawl settled over my shoulders. Quite thoroughly startled, but doing my
best to hide it, I looked around quickly but saw no one else in the room.
I did note that the glass door to the balcony was now just a touch ajar,
however. As I realized this, a sigh drifted across the room, so soft as
to barely audible, and a chill wind blew the glass door further open. I
approached the door warily, checking for any traces of recent magic in the
room, other than my own. I found a great many small enchantments hung in
the room: on the armoire, the candles, the vanity, virtually everywhere,
but no recent magic, not even on the shawl. Still, I was quite obviously
in the dwelling of some kind of sorcerer.
As I drew nearer to the balcony, I was able to get a better look at
it. It was made of stone, with a table and a few chairs, but it was the
view that caught my attention. The view was...strange. There were clouds
overhead, with the barest sliver of a moon, but the land below was
completely obscured by fog. I could not even see if there really was land
below at all. I suddenly stopped where I was, just short of the balcony
doors, and checked for Trump energy, chiding myself for not doing so far
earlier. I could only blame my disorientation at waking up in a strange
place, but that really was no excuse. Thankfully, unlike sorcery and
conjuration, Trump energy appeared to be working as I expected. The only
thing radiating Trump energy in the room, however, was a deck of cards
resting upon the vanity. How had I missed that in my earlier exploration
of the room? Perhaps it had appeared along with the shawl I was now
wearing. I approached the vanity and examined the deck, being careful not
to actually touch it yet. I trap my own deck, so I thought it prudent to
act on the assumption that others might also. I was not especially
surprised to recognize it as my own deck. How thoughtful of my host to
return it to me.
I was still bent over the Trump deck, wondering if anyone had
attempted to open it, when I noticed movement in the mirror above the
vanity. When I focused on it, I saw the profile of a woman reflected in
the mirror, dark haired, pale skinned, wearing an off-the-shoulder
midnight blue gown which appeared almost black in the dim light. Looking
at her, I could not help but feel a chill at her pallor and her seeming
indifference to the cold night air and the darkness. She was seated in
one of the chairs on the balcony and leisurely poured herself a glass of
steaming tea as I watched. She did not so much as glance in my direction,
but nevertheless, something in her posture, and the half-smile she was
wearing, made it perfectly clear to me that she was aware that I was
observing her. Seeing no point in lurking in my room if she was aware of
my presence, I checked my deck to ensure that no new spells had been added
to it, tucked it away in a hidden pocket, then turned and made my way
casually out onto the balcony.
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All text on this page is © 1998 by Kris Fazzari.
Last modified on August 23, 1998 by Kris Fazzari.