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  THE CONSERVATION OF MAGIC

  THE SCIENCE OF MAGIC – BOOK ONE

  By Michael W. Layne

  SUMMARY OF THE CONSERVATION OF MAGIC

  This is a Modern Epic Fantasy Adventure Novel and Book #1 in The Science of Magic Series.

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  Merrick has a job. A girlfriend. A life. But upon the death of his father, he finds out that his past is a lie and that he is not even a member of the human race. Instead, he discovers that he belongs to an ancient species that has co-existed with mankind since its inception and whose members can use sound to command the elemental forces of nature.

  Join Merrick on an adventure that takes him from the suburbs of Washington D.C. to the Highlands of Scotland and the jungles of Mexico, as he strives to overcome his own weaknesses, confronts a family of ethereal dragons, and races to discover his true self in time to save the world from a fiery end.

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  **This book deals with topics such as adult relationships and death, but contains no explicit scenes or gratuitous violence. It was written for adults but is suitable for ages 12+.

  [I came] through every form capable of life, in water, in earth, in air, in fire. And there happened unto me every severity, every hardship, every evil, and every suffering, and but little was the goodness or joy before I became a man…joy cannot be obtained without seeing and knowing everything, but it is not possible to see or to know everything without suffering everything…And there can be no full and perfect love that does not produce those things which are necessary to lead to the knowledge that causes joy.

  Anonymous Bardic Translation

  Then spoke the thunder

  Da

  T.S. Eliot, The Wasteland

  PART ONE

  From the Tale of Abred

  BEFORE THE WORLD was formed there were four dragons that lived in the Manred—the stuff of creation from which all else would one day spring.

  There was Terrada of the Earth, her sister, Sigela of the Fire, and their brothers, Lagu of the Water, and Araki of the Wind. These were not dragons of scale and tooth, but were living embodiments of the very elements of the world.

  All were born from the cosmic womb, and through this connection they could speak to and understand one another. Each dragon also possessed its own distinct language, a reflection of the elemental power at each of their commands.

  Since their birth, the dragons had raged and battled for dominion over the Manred, but always to impasse, until one day Sigela called her siblings together to put an end to their warring.

  The Fire Dragon spoke of her plan to create a being—a creature summoned from inconsequential but equal amounts of each of their powers. Their creation would be alive, but would not be a dragon. Its only purpose would be to choose who among the four dragons would rule the others.

  Seeing no better recourse, and after much discussion, the other three consented and began their work to create this being.

  Terrada created the sphere of the world and drew forth the form of the creature from the dirt of the planet.

  Sigela filled the center of this new world with flame, and imbued their new creature with the passion to live.

  Lagu poured water across much of the land and gave the creature the power of movement.

  Araki blew across the face of the world so that their creature might breathe.

  And it was so that the first Drayoom, Abred, was born, naked and shivering, lying in the cold slime of his own forming.

  The four dragons began teaching Abred their languages so that each might converse with him and convince Abred of his or her worthiness to rule the Manred.

  This is how Abred came to understand each of their tongues.

  After a short while, the dragons demanded that Abred choose one of them to be sovereign. But as he had come to understand each of the dragons, he had also learned of their wrathful natures and knew that any reply he gave would be met with anger from the other three.

  And so he refused to speak.

  Undaunted, the dragons began to entice Abred with their soothing tones, each tempting him with rewards and power.

  Araki showed him the birds overhead and promised to teach him to fly above the mountains of the world.

  Lagu showed him the gentle power of a stream, and swore that Abred too would move mountains and forge great valleys one day.

  Sigela showed him a dancing flame and promised that Abred would always have the passion to live and to rule over the other creatures of the world.

  Finally, Terrada showed him the patience of a single tree and vowed to give shelter and sustenance to him and his descendants for all time.

  Instead of feeling at ease, Abred was more confused than ever. His tears fell to the mud beneath him, and he shook with frustration—afraid of being destroyed no matter what choice he made.

  Their patience at an end, the dragons rose up in fury around him. Their words, once comforting and kind, now surrounded him as roaring waves, explosive lightning, towering wind spouts, and shaking earth. His insides vibrated violently, and his fear mounted until it could grow no further.

  That is when Abred’s fright blossomed into rage and finally into bravery.

  With sudden strength, he forced himself to stand firm amidst the raging dragons with raised fists and upturned chin, and he bellowed a single chord that none of the four dragons had heard before—a single but complex sound stronger of timbre and richer than any power ever before unleashed in the Manred.

  All of the dragons fell silent, for Abred unknowingly had spoken the creation names for each of the dragons, one on top of the other, and in so doing, he had created a perfect tone that gave him power over the very elements of the universe.

  A dying rumble of thunder swept across the sky, and for the first time since the creation of the Manred, all was quiet and still.

  Abred was afraid no more.

  CHAPTER 1

  LAZY JAZZ MELODIES trickled to the street from the open second-story window of the 520 Bar in the Old Town section of Alexandria, Virginia. The rainstorm had mostly passed, and the streets were fresh and smelled of raw life. Remnant flashes of lightning flickered soundlessly above while Merrick and Mona strolled together down the wet cobblestone sidewalk in the cool October evening.

  He had sandy brown hair that was only slightly receding and boyish cheeks that showed when he smiled. Even though he had only just turned thirty, he had been in better shape even a year ago than he was today, with the trend heading in the wrong direction.

  Where he gave the impression of not caring about his appearance with his ill-fitting clothes and his drugstore purchased glasses, she radiated style. Nothing about her appeared to be by accident, from her business-cut dark brunette hair to her designer jeans and imported shoes.

  They stepped off the curb to cross the street as a rogue peal of thunder cracked the night without warning. He flinched at the noise, and the stone pendant under his bulky sweater burned like an ember searing his chest.

  He fumbled with the hot stone through the wool of his sweater, but the heat dissipated as suddenly as it had appeared. In an instant, it was cold again, causing him to shiver. He released the pendant and let it settle against his bare skin again. The pendant was a mystery he would have to solve later, after their date. A slight blush colored his cheeks as he hoped that Mona had not noticed his odd behavior.

  She stopped walking and looked up at him. Her face conveyed equal parts concern for his well-being and suspicion that her boyfriend had suddenly lost his mind.

  “Just felt a little chilly all of a sudden,” he said with a shrug.

  Mona raised one eyebrow, and the two of them continued o
n their way.

  When another thunderclap erupted, this time farther in the distance, he flinched again.

  “What’s bothering you, tonight?” she said.

  He glanced at her, then back at the sidewalk. He let out a laugh that he immediately knew sounded fake.

  “I thought the storm was supposed to be over already.”

  Mona sighed and pulled him along; only this time, she didn’t make eye contact with him.

  They passed an antique store that was dark—closed for the evening. He glanced at his reflection in the floor-to-ceiling windows and groaned at what he saw. It wasn’t much yet, but there it was—the start of a belly.

  He didn’t like looking at himself nowadays, especially when he was out with Mona in public. Even though they were the same age, unlike him, she remained slim and athletic and was much better looking than he felt he deserved.

  He didn’t like being reminded of that, especially since she had been pushing him to commit to the next step in their relationship. Her attractiveness gave her the upper hand in their negotiations.

  “We can find a place that’s still open,” she said, “if you want to wait indoors until the storm has completely passed.”

  He turned away from his reflection and looked into her light gray eyes. A burst of wind ruffled her blouse. Her faded jeans and her red silk blouse were just tight enough to show off her compact but shapely figure. She had taken care to look good tonight as usual, whereas he had dressed for comfort.

  “Let’s keep walking,” he said. “It’s a nice evening. Other than all those bolts of lightning almost hitting us, of course.”

  This time, he made her laugh.

  But he wanted to do more than that.

  He wanted to tell her how he felt—to speak in the language of relationships that she wanted to hear. He wanted to tell her how he had never dated anyone as good for him as she was—that being with her made sense and that he didn’t want to be alone.

  He might have figured out a way to tell her all of that, but he wasn’t ready to tell her that he loved her yet.

  He shook his head and laughed uncomfortably.

  Mona stopped walking and let her hand drop from his.

  “Out with it. Is this something to do with us?”

  He took a deep breath, filled with the scent of wet leaves, and looked up at the fading orange sky.

  She lightly grabbed his sweater sleeve and pulled him down to her until their faces were only inches apart.

  He shut his eyes.

  Being so physically close to people, even Mona, made him uncomfortable, like he was being inspected—like she could see through his public disguise and read his thoughts or even catch a glimpse of his true self that he sometimes saw when he looked in the mirror.

  When he opened his eyes again, she had backed away, standing with her arms crossed and her lips pursed. She wasn’t going to take another step until they had the discussion that she wanted.

  The two stood motionless, locked in a face-off that he knew he had no chance of winning. A young couple swerved by them like Mona and Merrick were concrete statues set permanently in the sidewalk.

  He tried to stay focused on Mona, but he couldn’t help but watch as the happy couple walked away from them, arm in arm, laughing and smiling, sneaking kisses. It wasn't possible that they were in love as much as they seemed—it didn’t happen that way in real life.

  Forcing a break to their stalemate, he took Mona’s hand and led her down an older, empty side street, away from the main boulevard. She half resisted, but reluctantly followed his lead. As they continued along the cobblestone, the lampposts suddenly went out, as another crack of lightning sounded, and they were left in the darkness of the night, illuminated only by the moon.

  She stopped again and forced a smile that did little to cover her frustration. Her voice was level and calm.

  “I’m not sure what’s going on up there in that head of yours, but I’m not going to beg. You have to open up to me, Merrick. I love you, but I have my limits.”

  “I like you more than anyone I’ve ever dated before,” he said, “and I want to share with you…some of the things I’ve been feeling lately, but…”

  She stared up at him. The breeze tussled her hair as she waited in silence. The word like was not the one she had wanted to hear, and he knew it.

  He opened his mouth to speak again, but before he could say a word, a beefy hand shot out from behind him and clamped down hard over his mouth. A large man started to drag Merrick down a narrow side alley, while another man pulled Mona along behind them by the back of her hair.

  Merrick tried to shake loose, his arms flailing. His attacker spun around and pushed him into the brick wall. The back of his head made a wet smacking noise.

  The other man pinned Mona to his chest with one hand and covered her mouth with the other. Merrick saw Mona’s eyes go wide with fright.

  He redoubled his struggle, but a fist slammed into his stomach so hard that his feet lost contact with the ground, and he couldn’t breathe. He sank down to the cobblestoned street on his knees, sucking at the air around him.

  As hard as he tried, he couldn’t make his lungs expand, and something sharp inside kept sticking him with each failed attempt. He wiped blood from his eyes and lost his balance, almost toppling. If he didn’t get a full breath soon, he was going to pass out.

  The men were bragging about what they were going to do to Mona.

  Still on his knees, he tried to pull out his wallet with a shaking hand. Maybe if he offered them money, they would leave her alone—leave them both alone.

  Before he could force his hand to move, the man kicked him in the jaw, knocking his glasses to the ground amidst a rain of blood.

  Merrick struggled to prop himself up, but he slipped on his own blood and hit his head on the stone street. Black flecks swarmed at the edges of his vision, and he knew that he was close to unconsciousness. His mouth filled with the pungent taste of copper while his attacker rolled him onto his stomach and took his wallet.

  Struggling to find Mona, he could only see blurs of dark colors moving in jerky patterns, but the sounds that came from her painted a picture that was all too vivid for him. In his mind, he could see her frightened eyes peeking over the top of a brutish hand.

  The thought of her being raped or hurt in any way by these animals welled up inside him, turning his despair to rage. He had to help her, but he had no strength. If only the men would just go away or, even better, die.

  The stone pendant that hung around his neck burned again like it was made of searing coals. He reached for the stone automatically but stopped short as a combination of vibrations began to grow inside him—a humming so low that it shifted his internal organs and threatened to shake him to pieces.

  Electricity crackled all around him, pulsing in time with the sound that rattled his core.

  His ears popped, as every note of the all-engulfing chord was amplified ten-fold. He raised his hands to his head and knew that he was screaming in pain even though he could not hear his own cries.

  His world had turned into one of pure sound.

  Suddenly, in mid-howl, the vibration ceased, everything around him went silent, and the air reeked of sulfur.

  He stood up on shaky legs, able to breath now but falling back against the brick wall, blinking, trying to clear his sight enough to find Mona.

  As his hearing gradually returned, so did his balance and his vision. He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hands. He could see the details of the alley better than when he had been wearing his glasses earlier—so much so, that his surroundings were surreal in their crispness.

  A few feet away, Mona lay motionless on the ground, surrounded by a pile of restaurant trash. He moved closer and knelt beside her.

  He spoke her name, first in a whisper and then louder, but she did not move.

  He reached out to feel her neck for a pulse. It was there, but weak. Looking down at her still form, he realized somewhere
in the back of his mind that he was no longer in any sort of pain—that he, in fact, felt physically remarkable.

  The only thing that hurt was the sight of Mona.

  He lifted his head as he heard the slapping of feet running away at the far end of the alley. A fleeing man scrambled over a tall wooden fence and disappeared into the darkness.

  The wind turned direction, carrying with it the foul odor of burning hair and flesh. Merrick retched twice. Several feet away, the thug who had held Mona now lay motionless on his back. His arm jutted out from his body at an impossible angle, and a wisp of dark smoke floated up from his chest.

  Certain that the man was dead, Merrick turned his back on him and brushed Mona’s hair from her eyes. He whispered her name again, but she still did not move.

  He sat down next to her and carefully placed her head on his lap. Her face was calm and more perfect to him now than it had ever seemed before. He wished her awake as hard as he could, but nothing happened.

  With a shaking hand, he took out his cell phone, hit the emergency call button and told the operator where he was.

  He rested the back of his head against the cold brick wall and caressed Mona’s cheek. In minutes, the wails of approaching sirens filled the air. A clanking in the alley startled him, but when he looked, there was nothing there but the smoldering body of their attacker.

  A swirl of fallen leaves scuffled against the cobblestones and spiraled into the night. Beyond the leaves, an ambulance and a police car lurched to a stop and silenced their sirens.

  The alley filled with strobe light whites and washes of reds and blues as human silhouettes raced toward him and Mona. He lowered his head, hiding his face from the police officers and the paramedics as it started to rain.

  Nausea rolled over him. Even though common sense told him that some sort of freakish lightning strike must have been responsible for killing the mugger and for injuring Mona, he knew instinctively that somehow he had been the cause of it all.