Shifting Stars Gary Stringer (moboreader .txt) 📖

Dreya’s story is well known, as she herself is famous, or infamous, depending on one’s point of view. There are many versions of this story, but I promised you that every word I write would be true, and so as I peel back the layers of Time, I can relay the events, effectively, as they happen.

*****

The first significant, documented account of Dreya’s life was when one day, not long after the devastating attack on Catriona’s Quarthonian home, she casually knocked on the door of the Red wizard, Xarnas. He had recently retired from the Council where he had served for the last five years as Triumvirate representative, succeeded by Justaria. When he answered the door and looked down at the girl on his doorstep, barely a teenager, lost in too-large robes of a Red wizard, she declared, without preamble, that she wished him to train her in magic. Xarnas kindly explained that he had retired.

Dreya replied that she knew that, which meant he now had sufficient time to devote to her training.

Her presumptuous tone caused raised eyebrows. Few adults would speak to him like that, let alone a child. Yet her voice, when she spoke, was calm and quiet. As if she were merely stating a fact that he had simply overlooked.

When he asked, “Why me?”

Her answer was simply, “Because you are the best.”

Again, there was no flattery in that statement, no attempt to curry favour. Dreya was just stating a fact. Still, Xarnas wasn’t taking on any more students at this time and told her so.

Dreya, in that exact same tone, replied that of course, he wouldn’t be taking on any more students, as training her would require all of his focus and attention. That’s why she had waited until now when he was done with the distractions of Council business.

Xarnas would later admit that he was curious about this girl from the start. Her calm, controlled manner and absolute confidence that somehow came over as self-assured, not arrogant, were fascinating to him. Still, he was looking forward to his retirement and did not want an apprentice disturbing his peace.

Dreya told him in her matter-of-fact way that he would be taking her as his apprentice, “before this day is done, so you are really just wasting time. But I am patient and will wait until you are ready to make the right choice.”

“In that case,” he said, “I suggest you make yourself comfortable on my doorstep because you’re going to have a very long wait.”

To his amazement, Dreya thanked him, politely and promptly sat down.

Xarnas shrugged. He could see no harm in letting her sit there if that was what she wanted. Soon enough, she would get bored and go.

Except she didn’t.

Late that evening, he settled down to read a letter he had received from his youngest daughter, Bronwen, away at magic college. From time to time, he would look out of his window and see Dreya sitting there, either reading a book that she had been carrying in her voluminous robes or practising magic. It was distracting enough for Xarnas to learn about his eighteen-year-old daughter’s first serious boyfriend – a Faery, no less – when he was sure Bronwen had been a little girl only five minutes ago, without having an impertinent young Faery girl on his doorstep. Yes, he was missing having his daughter around, but that didn’t mean he was looking to adopt a new one!

The evening gave way to night, and still, young Dreya sat there. As midnight approached, Xarnas was preparing to retire. He opened his door, and Dreya immediately stood, respectfully.

“Don’t you have a home to go to?” he asked.

“Until now, my home has been in the woodlands with my Faery people, but before this day is done, I shall be living here with you. That will maximise the time you have to train me. Travelling from anywhere else would waste time. Obviously, I could teleport here every day, but that would be a waste of power.”

This was the first time she had said something that was clearly arrogant nonsense. Teleportation was a highly advanced wizard spell, which was learned only after years of study and practice.

“You don’t seriously expect me to believe you can teleport!” he scoffed.

“No,” said Dreya, her tone unwavering. “I do not know how to teleport.”

“So why would you imply that you did?

“I did not mean to imply any such thing,” she assured him. “My apologies for the misunderstanding. What I meant was, while I do not know how to teleport yet, before this day is done, I will.”

“The day is almost done, already,” Xarnas pointed out. “I highly doubt you can learn teleportation or much of anything else in these last few minutes.”

“I know you have doubts,” Dreya replied, “but before this day is done, they will trouble you no longer, and your training will begin.”

By now, Xarnas was tired and had simply run out of patience. “Very well,” he said, “if you’re so interested in teleportation, let me show you how it’s done.”

With that, he wrote the highly complex spell in the air and sent young Dreya more than a hundred miles away to the heart of the nearest Faery woodland community. She would be safe enough there. The Faery would never hesitate to take care of a lost child, no matter how superior and irritating her attitude. Before he could close his door, however, the young girl reappeared in front of him.

“Thank you for the lesson,” said Dreya.

Xarnas was stunned. “How did you do that?”

“I spent the day on your doorstep, reading all I could about the magical theory behind teleportation, how it connects with other powers and the spell form required to activate it. Experiencing it from the inside was just the last piece I needed to do it myself.”

“Show me,” he demanded. “Prove to me you didn’t get someone else to teleport you back here. Prove you can truly do it yourself.”

And