Chapter Eleven #2
Freedom had a smell, and he understood it. The arcane gave scents to things humans couldn’t comprehend. He had no other explanation. Other perfumes arose. Distant lands smelled earthy and a bit wild. Fresh air was unburdened and crisp.
Come into the Otherworld, Pedr, Himmel whispered through the wind. He had a feeling she was almost always invisible. It’s time to present yourself before Jordaire. In doing so, you will gain greater understanding, and greater access to your abilities.
An evanescent hand appeared. Thick, extended, glimmering in a roving, evolving way. The diary slid out of his fingers and slammed the deck. The edges cracked from the impact.
Pedr accepted her hand.
White washed over him like lowering drapes.
He stood in a place boldly luminescent, so powerfully bright he could barely see more than a few steps in front of him.
Immediately before Pedr stood a woman with dark skin, dark eyes, dark hair.
Wide hips, full shoulders, and a sober bearing.
The curves of her face and her sloping nose were beautiful.
“Himmel,” he stated.
Her lips split in a dazzling smile. “Pedr.” She was neither corporeal nor ethereal, but a mixture between the two. Like the wind. Present, but not entirely.
He arched an eyebrow with a saucy smile. “You are the voice I’ve been hearing?”
Arms spread, she curtsied. A brazen gleam twinkled in her umber eyes. “As you see. The Arcanist of the Sky, thank you.”
“Lovely.”
“I get better,” she quipped, broadening her smile. “It’s a pleasure to officially meet you. Seeing each other in the Otherworld sometimes has a . . . different effect.”
Himmel had a stunning mien. Pedr was overtaken with her melodic voice, her general brightness and warmth. In a world of men and pirates, Himmel was a drink of cool water, and a feminine breath of fresh air.
Her expression lowered, gaze hooded. “Thank you for trusting me enough to return to the Otherworld. For you to meet Jordaire would be . . . helpful. To you, I mean.”
“Could I have refused?”
“You’re an Arcanist. You can do whatever you want. But this choice will open up more power, more . . . acquaintances and friendship.”
He shifted uncomfortably. Friendship would require some adjustment. She spared him the agony of a response.
“There is something called a presentation that is better finished up front. You stand before the other Arcanists and present yourself. Who you are, how you came to the arcane. Technically speaking, it’s what happened when you first came to me in the Otherworld, only I didn’t think labelling it then was necessary. You had enough to comprehend.”
Pedr gazed around the empty space. Nothing but white. A hint of something lurked behind it, but vanished as quickly.
“Thanks. Everything is overwhelming. Who are the others?”
“There are two more Arcanists: Jordaire, the Arcanist of Land.” Her tone slowed ever-so-slighty, and a new smell met his nose. If he hadn’t been paying attention, he wouldn’t have noticed. “And . . . there’s Onskar, the Arcanist of Souls.”
“They aren’t here?”
“Onskar never is. You will meet him at his convenience. There’s no hurry to introduce yourself to him,” she quickly added, “and you can’t expect him to come when summoned, either. He operates by his own means.”
“Oh.”
“He’s the oldest and most powerful of all Arcanists,” she tacked on, as if that excused him. “He’s . . . quite challenging. You would be better off ignoring him completely.”
“Gladly.”
Her hand elevated next to her. “And this is Jordaire.”
A bent, crotchety old man appeared at her side, one eye squeezed shut, the other scrutinizing Pedr in a judgmental sneer. His upper lip curled with obvious disdain. The moment his beady eyes met Pedr’s, Pedr smelled earth and rot and decay and the depths of Elestra.
He hated him.
Jordaire snarled the same sentiment.
“Jordaire, this is Pedr.” Himmel widened her starlight-tinged eyes and tilted her head slightly toward Jordaire with an expected, fixed smile that clearly demanded, Say something!
“Pedr,” Jordaire muttered. Undoubtedly, saying it’s my pleasure would be a lie. Jordaire raised a flippant hand. “This is what Onskar is bringing in? He replaces Havard with this guy?”
Himmel drawled, “Jordaire,” with a maternal exasperation that told Pedr this cranky fool had always been a problem.
“Who are you?” Jordaire demanded.
Pedr sealed his lips.
“Would you like to explain to Jordaire how you came to be the Arcanist of the Sea?” Himmel inquired.
Pedr shook his head once, arms folded over his chest.
“Not particularly.”
Jordaire huffed, setting two skinny fists onto his hips. “I didn’t care anyway.” He departed with a dark lour.
Himmel sighed. “That went better than I expected.”
“Better?”
“Could have been much worse. I will admit that I’ve never facilitated a presentation before, though. I mean . . . he was much kinder when I had my presentation to him and Havard, but . . . well . . . ” She shrugged.
“He already hates me. And I’d say the feeling is mutual.”
Lines formed in the space between her eyebrows. In the past few minutes, her form had solidified, revealing smooth skin, long lashes.
“It’s not you,” she said quietly. “Havard was his longtime lover, at least before they became Arcanists. Their story is very odd and rarely told and . . . anyway . . . they cared for each other as best they could. Havard’s removal came as a shock to both of us.”
Himmel shook her head.
“So Jordaire came here prepared to hate me,” Pedr concluded, “and I never need to speak to him again.”
She opened her mouth, as if to disagree, but closed it again. “Well, yes, you’re probably right. Avoid him, and all will be well.”
“He asked why Onskar had chosen me.”
Surprise filled her glimmering expression. “It’s a fair question, and one I asked Onskar when I was chosen. As the most powerful Arcanist, it’s understood that he chooses the Arcanists who follow.”
The constant mention of Onskar, yet lack of his presence, irritated Pedr. What kind of powerful leader didn’t show up?
“What did Onskar say?” he asked.
“That his reasons were his own.”