Halfwizard (Book 2 of the Troy Sanders Trilogy)

5: Control

No kidding here, the manor house should seriously be moved closer to civilization. I was already exhausted to the bones before I reached the front door; and I wasn’t even the one who drove- serious discussion for Grandpa Blake later.

I heaved the door open as if it was made of something as heavy as the entire earth only to be met with pitch blackness. “That’s weird,” I said as I looked back; the sun was just setting but its evening red rays stopped right at the door post. That couldn’t happen unless... magic.

The room suddenly became lit up- almost blinding me in the process- and the shouts of “Surprise!” echoed all around. There were confetti everywhere, decorations, balloons and a big sign with Troy written on it adorned the room. Of course, in the midst of it all was the man himself smiling like a Cheshire cat: Blake Gary Sanders.

“You do know that it’s not my birthday, right?” I said to him as he came to give me a big hug.

“Of course, I know,” he replied. “The party’s in celebration of your award of valor in Firewalt.”

“But we already celebrated that last year, grandpa, and everyone attended,” I reminded him. Well, not everyone really attended, but it was still a party and I met with a lot of the other family members although most of them were showering me with curious looks- seriously speaking, it seemed that critical thinking ran in the family.

“That was for them, this is for us.” He smiled like he'd just won the American lottery. “Come on, go freshen up and let’s party.”

“Show off,” I muttered but complied. It was obvious I wouldn’t win that argument; that was just one of the things that happened when you leave an eighty year-old man with nothing but money as entertainment.

“Why do you always make it a point to tell people how much money you have?” I asked later when I sat next to grandpa Blake to eat dinner after the "party"- I still couldn't believe I had been waylaid into that.

I was wearing a new t-shirt, new jeans, new jacket, new shoes; in fact, my entire belongings was new, rendering my old ones useless, which was why I had begun to consider that old man Blake Sanders really had a serious "I have too much money than is good for me" issue- seriously, who changed another person's wardrobe without telling them first?

“I don’t “tell”, Troy, I show people how rich I am,” he corrected me.

I sighed in exasperation. “So, what am I supposed to do with all my old stuff?”

“Give them to charity, of course,” he replied as if even a plankton should know that. Sure, he was right with the whole “Let’s give to the world” suggestion but it still was very unnecessary for me to have those clothes in the first place. It was starting to feel like he wanted to choke me with the family money. I get it, we’re rich from heaven to earth, can we stop with the power play now?

“I’m going to bed,” I said as my appetite left me and I stood up to leave.

“What about dessert?” he asked behind me.

“Give it to charity,” I returned without stopping.

It wasn’t that I was angry at grandpa Blake or anything; and he knew that too. It was just that I hadn’t yet fully adjusted to all the pampering and would love to get away from it for a while.

Now, I would have loved to say that Firewalt would be a good escape but I would be kidding myself. If my previous year was anything to go by, the situation in the magic school was only going to make my life ten times worse.

I walked down the stairs, running my hands over each picture as I passed. “This is a dream,” I realized.

Of course, it was obvious from the start that I was dreaming; the unreal state of everything I was seeing and the moving pictures already gave that away.

I stopped and glanced at one of the pictures. It was the one where Oliver was celebrating his twelfth birthday. I could hear every conversation from the picture, feel every emotion emitting from everyone in the picture. Sure, it might just be a figment of my imagination or a combination of what I’d heard or been told. But it still felt as real as ever.

I didn’t have the slightest idea of where I was going but a sense of certainty was about my steps that didn't make me worried about getting lost and I let it take charge.

After so many minutes of twists and turns, I finally arrived at my destination; the entrance to the tunnel that led to Sanctuary, Firewalt’s metapore. I knew there was a spell that was used to open it but only grandpa Blake knew it.

Anyway, I placed my hand on the wall and felt a wave of Latin words rush through my head so fast I couldn’t even catch one. Suddenly, the wall disappeared and I knew those head-splitting words must have been the spell.

I moved into the tunnel and walked for a while before seeing Firewalt’s structure in a distance; I was very sure that it took much longer than that to get to the end of the tunnel in real life, but of course, things changed in dreams.

It was foggy ahead but I could make out the silhouette of a man in the fog. “Come on, Troy, I’m waiting,” it said.

I should be afraid but I took a step forward; only to fall face first into a pool.

Blood! I realized as I looked around; I was in a pool of blood. “Somebody help me!” I screamed; but only my voice echoed back to me.

I looked around but there was nothing but ocean of blood in every direction. I tried to swim but the more I struggled, the more I sank. I was going to drown in a pool of blood; the blood of the people I killed.

I suddenly felt myself being pushed into the soft fabrics of the bed and I reacted instinctively with a punch.

“Troy, wake up!” I heard someone shout to me; it was Grandpa Blake’s voice.

I opened my eyes but it couldn’t focus on anything. A hand pressed against my temple and I felt a cold sensation immediately sip into my body. I looked around again and saw then that everything was in disarray; the room this time, not my vision. “What happened?” I asked.

“You were screaming and thrashing about in the bed,” Grandpa Blake replied. “But you were also performing magic in your sleep. You disorganized and rearranged the entire house from top to bottom.”

The magic performing part of my nightmare was news to me; that had never happened before- guess I’d finally reached another level on my crazy gauge.

“You were also muttering something in your sleep”, he added and my heart skipped a beat. Oh God! Have I spoken about the incident with Abigail?

“What was I muttering?” I asked.

“Most of it was incoherent but I could make out the word Periculum,” he replied. “Has this ever happened before?”

“No," I replied but I wasn’t exactly paying attention; my mind was somewhere else. “What does Periculum mean?”

“It’s Latin for danger,” Grandpa Blake replied.

“But I don’t speak Latin,” I told him- I mean, how the hell could I be saying words like Periculum when I couldn’t even read the Latin alphabets?

Grandpa Blake turned to leave then but I suddenly grabbed his arm. “Don’t leave me alone,” I begged like a scared baby- yeah, my nightmare must be really getting the better of me.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he replied. “I was only going to get you a sleeping potion, it’ll help you relax.” When I still didn’t let go of his arm, he ordered one of the house helps to get him the potion instead.

After only two minutes of using the potion, I was already dozing off but my mind still wouldn’t calm itself down. I knew without a doubt now that the situation was out of my control but despite it, I still couldn’t bring myself to tell anyone; even grandpa Blake who was obviously beginning to suspect that something was up- I knew it wasn’t the time for me to be considering the white-dark magic margin but I didn’t think I would be able to take him thinking of me as dark magic user.

One question kept lingering in my mind though. even as I began to lose consciousness. What was I losing control of exactly, my magic or my sanity?