The White City

Chapter 5

The older man had led her to his home. Laylah had been resistant to stepping over his doorstep, but what did she have to lose. The public had gotten to know about her powers and she was now a wanted woman. And he was a non-believer like herself. If she was safe with anyone, it would be him.

He had said little on their way to his small cottage. Laylah still stood close to the door as the man stomped of the snow under his boot. He had a leather bag slouched over his shoulders. From it, he retrieved a few extra of the smoke cans and placed them on an old wooden table.

Laylah looked around the house. Stone formed the walls and nice leather and wooden furniture accompanied it. He owned a huge wood burner crafted in steel. A fire was going strong inside. It spread a nice and comfortable warmth throughout the house.

“Please sit down. You must be tired.” The man turned towards her; his hand held out to point at his wooden bench.

Laylah eyed the bench before shifting her gaze towards the man. “Who are you?”

He sighed, taking a seat in a chair beside the wood burner. “I understand why you cannot trust me; however, I assure you that I mean no harm. Why else would I save you?”

“What do you want then?” Laylah lifted her head. She let the hood fall to reveal her hair. He didn’t even flinch. Not even as they stared into each other’s eyes.

“Who says that I want something from you?” He folded his hands over his laps and leaned back into his seat. The gray hair fell elegantly along with his long features. The eyes, a deep brown, gleamed with a friendly spark.

“Everyone wants something. That’s how the world works. Nothing comes for free.” Laylah dared to take a step deeper into his home. In a weird way, confidence was returning to her body as she let herself relax into the conversation.

“True,” he said, nodding his head. “I cannot say anything to make you trust me, however, maybe I can help you. Please take a seat. An old chap like me has no chance against such a powerful being as yourself.”

Laylah took a seat, pushing the shock away. “You know of my powers?”

He pointed at her white hair. “It’s not just everybody who is gifted with such hair and eyes as yours. I believe your gift to be that of either water or ice.”

Laylah clenched her fists, gazing into the table. “I’ve only known it to be a weapon. It’s not a gift.”

The old chap nodded his head, staring into the air. He let the silence fall over them as he rocked back and forth in his chair. Laylah traced the wood with her fingers. The word gift couldn’t leave her head. Her mother had always referred to it as a weapon or a curse.

“So, what is it? Water or ice?” The man leaned forward into his seat, his eyes locked upon Laylah.

Laylah drew in a long breath and without lifting her gaze, she answered the man. “Ice. I didn’t know until earlier today. It had always been a warm spark at the tips of my fingers. And then I’ve been seeing magic everywhere. It’s like my eyes can turn everything into magic.” Laylah let the words flow out of her mouth. Rational thinking was no longer an ability she mastered. The chap had a comfortable aura around him and as she looked upon him, a warm and light form of magic surrounded him.

“I believe your sights to be those of energy. You have the ability to see the magic energy of everything.” The old man stood from his chair, drawing Laylah’s attention to him. He walked over to his bookshelves where he pulled out a few books. “This is simply astonishing.” The man waltzed over to the table. He let the books fall from his arms. They landed with a thud. Laylah jumped in her seat, leaning away from the table. Her eyes scanned over the few books. Every one of them had wrinkles in their covers. Ends of strings peeked out from between the pages, indicating how far he had studied each of them. He had read none of them the entire way through.

The old chap untied the strings around his neck. The cloak fell to the floor as he slid onto the bench opposite of Laylah. She sat in confusion. The old man was of rare bread and she couldn’t read his emotion or thoughts for that matter. She had to trust him for now.

“What do you mean?” she asked, her arms hugging her body though she wasn’t cold in any way.

The old hag reached for a thick red book and turned the pages. His eyes studied each page for a second before he went to the next one. “There are only four kinds of main magics,” he said, putting the red book away to find a deep brown one. “I’ve been studying them for almost my entire life and then you.” He looked up at Laylah with a broad smile. “Then you come running through the streets spitting magic everywhere! Finally, I can study what I believe in. The element gods and their children.”

Laylah stood from her seat, pulling away from the old hag. “You want to study me?” Her question was more of an acussion. The old man leaned back to look at her.

Her sudden outburst had caused a mild shock to shoot through him. He hurried to shake his head. “Of course not. Please, don’t be so quick to draw to conclusions. I simply want to know more about what magic is. I believe it to be the thing there will save us all.”

Laylah did not move to take her former place by the table. She glanced towards the door. Behind that door a hundred, maybe more, soldiers were searching the city to either kill or to capture her. At least the old hag didn’t have such intentions. He only sought knowledge. However, Laylah wasn’t sure if she could give it to him or if he spoke of the truth. Laylah took a look at his clothing. He had, like her, chosen to walk upon the streets dressed in black. He must have been an outcast as well. Someone in which the population dressed in white looked down upon as dirt under their boots. As she caught his eyes, she could see the mild suffering he hid behind the stoic outer. A thin layer of spark, or energy as he described it, danced around his figure. It urged her to step closer once again and take a seat by his table.

The old hag smiled. “I do understand why you must have some trust issues. You’re an orphan, right?”

“I am,” Laylah said, her mind flashing a picture of her parents before her eyelids. Their smiling face brought a warmth to her heart.

“Are you aware if your mother or father possessed any gift?” The old chap stopped on a page in his brown and old book. He ran his hand over it to smooth the paper.

Laylah shook her head. “No, I don’t think so. Why do you ask?”

“Gifts are sometimes gifted to a family, especially secondary gifts such as yours.” The man let his eyes wander down the page as he spoke.

Laylah leaned forward in her seat, her palms falling on the table. With every word the man spoke, questions appeared in her head. “Secondary gift? What do you mean by that?”

The man halted with whatever he was doing and looked up at a confused Laylah. He folded his hands on the table, letting the book be for a moment. “It’s said that the four-element gods, fire, water, air, and earth. They can all gift an individual with their element if they deem them fit. However, in some cases, these gods choose to create secondary gifts to their elements, such as ice. Ice is a secondary element of water. It’s not an element by itself but is created from a real element.”

Laylah furrowed her brows. She processed his information willingly. This was the most she had ever learned about her powers and she was bound to keep learning more from this man.

“And since you have the ability to wield ice, a secondary element, you would have had to have encountered your familiar.” The old chap found his book once again. He pointed at a section and shoved the book over to Laylah. The section was headlined with the words `secondary gifts`.

Laylah took ahold of the book with both of her hands. “What’s a familiar? And how do you know all of this? Why didn’t my mother know of this?” Laylah had skimmed through the information, returning to the chap for more.

The old hag opened his mouth to speak, but as he did, a knock rung out from the door. First once, then twice. “The royal guards have come to your door. Open at once!” It was a rough and stern voice. It was a voice Laylah had heard before.

“It’s the man from before.” She widened her eyes, looking at the old man.

He stood from his seat. And hushed the books into a drawer. “You need to hide. Go into that room and hide in the closet. And do not come out.” The man pointed towards a door at the other end of the room. Laylah didn’t hesitate to follow his directions and leaped towards the door and into the room. She left the man alone without a second thought, her mind turning into survival mode once again.

The room was a small bedroom. Shoved against the wall was a bed. Close by sat a window. It let no light dance onto the floor. In the corner stood a tall wooden closet. Laylah moved over and stepped inside. As she let the door close, so did the old hag open his doors for the enemy.