Trial of Magic

by K. M. Shea

  Angelique reluctantly pushed herself to her knees.

  “Are you all right, grandmother?” The rider asked as she jogged closer.

  Confused by the title, Angelique peered up at the rider as she tugged the hood off, releasing her thick mess of hair that was tamed only by the use of magic. She felt her magic to make sure the illusion that made her eyes appear blue instead of their natural—and unsettling—silver color was working, and squinted up at the rider. “Grandmother?”

  The rider skidded to a stop a few steps short of Angelique and seamlessly stepped into a bow. “My apology. Please forgive me for my grievous mistake.”

  The rider was quite pretty with her blonde hair pulled back in an orderly braid, kind eyes, and lips that were quick to form a smile.

  Her straight posture said she’d received some kind of combat training—Angelique, a recipient of similar training, could recognize the stance anywhere—and she was quite tall in her suede boots and clothes—including trousers—that were the same muted browns and greens as the forest.

  The rider peered anxiously at Angelique, obviously concerned she had offended her.

  Still fighting off some of her disappointment in losing the one lead she had, Angelique chose to plop in the dead leaves rather than stand and look demure as her station would usually require. “Your guess is not far off. I feel about as well as an infirm old woman.”

  “Are you injured?” The rider scanned her, searching for injuries. “You weren’t attacked, were you?”

  Angelique impatiently pushed back the front panel of her cloak—it had belonged to Stil, originally, and he’d always gone for flashy stuff, which Angelique was coming to learn didn’t necessarily mean practical and easy to wear. “No, no. I’m fine. I was just investigating the woods and happened to trip,” she lied. She stood up and flicked a few dead leaves off her cloak and figured she better round her story out with a truth. “It’s embarrassing to admit, but I merely felt too weary to rise.”

  “I am glad to hear you are unharmed.” The rider spoke with such sincerity, Angelique was glad she’d told half the truth, even if it tarnished her image as an elegant enchantress. “If you’ll excuse my prying, you mentioned an investigation?”

  Angelique sighed and let her shoulders stoop as she wondered how much she should reveal, and what new darkness the rider would tell her about that she’d be expected to fix. “Yes. I’m looking into a situation here in Farset that might involve dark magic.”

  The rider nodded crisply, unshaken as she stood at attention. “I see. How can I help?”

  Her response was so contrary to what Angelique expected, she almost bulged her eyes, but managed to forcibly blink instead. “I beg your pardon?”

  The rider slightly tilted her head, and the warmth in her kind eyes was almost more than Angelique could bear. “You are obviously on a mission of importance. I will do whatever I can to help.”

  The relief her offer brought was so sharp, it stabbed Angelique in the heart.

  In all of her travels, in all of her battles, she couldn’t recall a moment where someone offered to help her, no strings attached.

  She had bargained for help in searching for Evariste, and a few royals had offered to help her when she was seeing to a task they had requested, but no one had offered her help without expecting anything in return.

  Angelique burst into deep, ugly sobs. The shuddering of her shoulders made it hard to breathe, and for a moment she thought she might fall to her knees again.

  The rider took a step towards her, her hands extended as concern pinched her brow. “I apologize if I offended you…”

  Angelique would have laughed if she wasn’t already half-suffocated by her sobs. The irony that this stranger had shown more concern for Angelique than anyone else had in a long while was both too heartbreaking and too funny to bear.

  “No.” Angelique sat back down in her pile of dead leaves and rubbed her face, trying to stop the tears from coming. “It’s not you, it’s just…y-you’re the first person to ask how you can help me in months!”

  To her embarrassment, Angelique started crying again.

  The rider crouched down next to her and patted her back. “It sounds like you’ve had a difficult few months.”

  Angelique tried to scoff, but she was still crying, so it turned into a snort that cut off her air for a few moments. “Try years.” Angelique rummaged around the inner pockets of Rumpelstiltskin’s gifted cloak. She finally found a handkerchief and scrubbed at her face as she tried to gather her composure. “Ugh. I hate crying! It doesn’t accomplish anything at all.”

  The rider whistled to her horse, which had been patiently waiting in the middle of the road. It perked its ears and obediently approached the rider, who retrieved a small waterskin that was attached to the horse’s saddle. “That’s not true,” the rider said. “It’s a proper release. If you never express yourself, you will only make yourself ill.” She offered the waterskin to Angelique.

  Angelique took it with a thankful nod and took a few sips. Instantly, she felt a little better. The water helped ease the hot, sticky feeling crying always produced. “I don’t know that I agree, though I do feel a little better.” She felt more human and less…squashed than she had before the rider had found her. As she handed the waterskin back, she shook her head and tried to regain her control. “I suppose I ought to introduce myself. I’m Angelique—an enchantress-in-training.”

  There. Let’s see if that changes anything—or brings to light any curses lingering nearby. Of all the possible kinds of dark magic, why are the Chosen so obsessed with curses?!

  The rider reattached her waterskin to her tack, and Angelique could see the effect of her title on the woman as she awkwardly cleared her throat and bowed. “Well met, Lady Enchantress.”

  Oh, no. No, no, no. I’m not having the first person kind enough to be concerned about me turning all stiff with formality.

  Angelique tried to smile and was happy to find it was easier than she’d thought it would be. “It’s just Angelique, please.” She chuckled a little and almost coughed when her throat constricted. “I haven’t earned the rank yet. Besides, using a title with me seems silly considering I just bawled my eyes out in front of you.”

  The rider bent at the knees—slightly crouching—and straightened up twice in a show of inner conflict, but she eventually nodded. “Angelique, then. Please allow me to renew my offer. I am Quinn of Midnight Lake. I’m a mere soldier in the Farset army, but I will help you in any way I can. Do you need transportation to the palace? A meeting with my officers? An escort?”

  Angelique considered the rider—Quinn—who seemed to be growing more and more concerned the longer Angelique sat in the pile of dead leaves. She sucked in a deep breath of air, then shook her head as she stood. “No. I’ve been in contact with Rider Nareena, but at the moment I would rather not alert anyone to my presence here. It is rather a shot in the dark, but I’m running out of ideas.”

  She couldn’t quite meet Quinn’s steady gaze, so Angelique turned to stare into the shade of the forest and watched falling leaves dance in the slight breeze. “I’m actually not here on Farset’s behalf—though at the Summit held to review the widespread calamities that have been hitting the continent, Rider Nareena did speak of the sudden increase of wraith and troll attacks. I’m here for the elves.”

  “I see. I’m afraid I can help you even less, then,” Quinn said. “No one has seen much of the elves for over five years now.”

  Angelique kept staring at the trees—it was strangely calming. “They’re cursed.”

  Quinn’s smile dropped, and her eyebrows shot up. “What? How is that possible?”

  Angelique wasn’t surprised she didn’t know—only recently had Odette explained the situation to Angelique.

  She tucked some of her wild hair behind her ear to give her hands something to do. “I don’t know. I still haven’t spoken to them. I found out my information only because a friend of mine has made cont
act with them. She doesn’t know the particulars of their curse, for it seems they cannot speak freely of it.” She finally pulled her gaze from the forest and swiveled to face Quinn, unable to keep a grim frown off her lips. “I spoke of it to the Veneno Conclave, and they sent several representatives to the Alabaster Forest to inquire. They were not able to meet any elves, which meant they could not enter the woods. As the Alabaster Forest is the sovereign land of the elves, entering their home without their permission is considered an act of war.”

  Quinn furrowed her eyebrows. “What will the Conclave do?”

  “Not much. It seems there is not much they can do.” Angelique pursed her lips. “Politics has their hands tied. Any elf-friends may enter, of course, but those are unfortunately far and few between.”

  This was the one spot where, unfortunately, the Veneno Conclave’s reluctance to act was acceptable, though she wished it were otherwise.

  Quinn turned her face up slightly. “Except for your friend?”

  “Ahh, yes.” Angelique squinted at Quinn and tried to figure out how much she could safely say. “Odette makes deliveries for them.”

  “Can you not meet the elves with her?”

  “She does not meet them often and will not meet with them for several more weeks. I will wait until then if I must, but I rather hope not. By then it may be too late.” Angelique’s gaze wandered back to the trees as she felt the taunting tug of defeat pulling at her again. “Or perhaps it is already too late. Our enemy…the Chosen….”

  The Chosen were a group of rogue mages who used magic for nefarious purposes. They had first popped up hundreds of years ago in Verglas, before the famed Snow Queen tore their forces apart and banished them. Since then, the Chosen had bided their time and built up their forces.

  Angelique shook her head and tried to dislodge the threat of despair. “But enough. As you can see, I’m afraid no one can help me except the elves themselves, and it seems they are in a position that makes them unable to respond.”

  “I understand.” Quinn nodded. “I would still like to give you my contact information, as well as the name of my commanding officer, so you may find me should you need it.”

  Angelique didn’t know if she should gape at the soldier or hug her. “You really are fearless. I give you all of that bleak information, and it doesn’t scare you off?”

  Another smile bloomed on Quinn’s lips. “I am a soldier in the Farset army. We are trained differently than most forces.”

  Differently? Most people would have bolted or started delegating more work on me at this point.

  Angelique speculatively studied Quinn. “Prince Severin of Loire told me previously that the Farset army was very unique—and undefeatable in forests. But even with your training, I thought the threat of a curse would have spooked you.”

  Quinn’s smile dimmed a little, but the long lines of her body remained relaxed. “Ah, perhaps that is because the Twelve Princesses of Farset have been under some strange sort of compulsion for a few years now. Most believe they, too, are cursed.”

  And there it is: there’s a curse around here after all.

  Angelique massaged her forehead, hoping to ward off the headache a curse was sure to bring. “I had nearly forgotten about them. By Pegasus’ feathers—there are too many curses plaguing the lands.”

  “My army band and I have volunteered to investigate the princesses’ curse.”

  “Have you?” Angelique waited, but Quinn didn’t follow up with any kind of request for help. This, combined with the fact that Quinn offered to help her, elevated the soldier up to almost a saint-like stature in Angelique’s mind.

  Naturally, this meant Angelique had to help her at least a little.

  A person who is this good deserves it!

  Angelique fumbled with her black cloak, struggling to unhook it. “In that case, I have something that may help you.” When she finally got the cloak off, she held it out to Quinn.

  The soldier took a few steps backwards and shook her head. “I couldn’t.”

  Angelique’s lips curled slightly upwards. “You would refuse a gift from an enchantress-in-training?”

  “It is fall. Farset nights are usually cold, but soon they will turn bone-chillingly freezing.”

  Angelique had to press her lips together to keep from laughing.

  She is too kind! If only there were more like her.

  “Ahh, again your noble kindness.” Angelique smiled—which came even easier now and was, dare she say it, warm. “But don’t worry—my dress is spelled, just like this cloak. I could wear just my dress in Verglas and still be fine. Which reminds me, I ought to show you how the cloak works. Here.”

  Angelique ignored Quin’s protests and wrapped the cloak around Quinn, latching it over the soldier’s right shoulder.

  Now, what charms did Rumpelstiltskin say were left in the thing? I know it leaked some of the magic he had put in it, which was why he needed a new one, but there were some dead useful charms for a soldier investigating some cursed princesses.

  Angelique strained her memory for another moment or two before she recalled what her craftmage friend had listed off when he gave it to her.

  “There’s a heat charm to keep you from freezing, a cooling charm for hot days, and a fire resistance spell, so it won’t catch on fire. Those are all passive spells—meaning they’re active all the time. What I think you’ll find most useful is the invisibility spell.”

  Quinn had been fidgeting in the gifted cloak, but she paused when Angelique finished the list. “Invisibility?”

  “Yes! It’s a hard spell to put into cloth goods, but this cloak used to belong to a Grandmaster Craftmage. He infused all the spells himself.” Angelique smiled fondly with the memory of Stil and the proud way he’d strutted around in the new cloak his wife, Gemma, had made for him. He’d be happy to know someone was going to get some more use out of his old cloak.

  Angelique cleared her throat and forced herself to focus. “To activate it, hold the fabric up to your mouth so your breath can touch it, and say shroud. To release the spell, do the same thing, only speak the word reveal.”

  Quinn slowly lifted her arm to her mouth. She must have whispered the right word because Angelique could faintly feel the zing of Stil’s magic as the invisibility spell settled into the fabric of the cloak, and Quinn faded from sight.

  “Yes, exactly like that,” Angelique encouragingly said.

  When Quinn reversed the spell and faded back into sight, her eyes were comically wide. “Incredible—I have never seen anything like this.” She shook her head and peered down at the black cloak that covered her tall frame. “Are you certain you wish to give this to me? It seems…overly-generous.”

  Angelique barely resisted sweeping the valiant soldier up in a hug. She didn’t hold herself back out of a wish to honor her station as an apprentice—mages could go chew on rocks for all she cared anymore—but because it would have been exceedingly forward and probably frightened Quinn more than a little.

  “Believe me, it’s not,” she dryly said. “It’s little more than a cast off, but I’m glad you are so pleased with it. I should warn you, it does have some limitations. The invisibility spell will last only for a few hours—though you’ll be able to feel it when the spell starts to weaken, so it won’t be a sudden failure. It’s also true invisibility—so you can’t be seen, but you can still be heard, and if a person walks into you, they will feel you.” Angelique tapped her lower lip as she tried to recall any other limitations that wouldn’t be obvious to anyone unfamiliar with magic. “The spell will affect anything attached to the cloak, so your face won’t show, nor will your clothes if the cloak happens to open.”

  Quinn inspected the well-worn cloak with great interest. “Does that mean two people, perhaps, could hide in it?”

  A cold gust of wind stirred the tree branches. Angelique didn’t even feel it as her gown—a gift from Evariste—was spelled to keep her warm. Though she did make a noise of frustration
when the wind flipped her wild hair over her face. “It is powerful enough to cloak two people, yes. Though moving around in it would be rather difficult, I imagine.” She finished pushing her hair back out of her face just in time to see Quinn bow low.

  “Thank you, Angelique,” Quinn said. “This truly is an amazing gift.”

  Angelique smiled—and she actually felt it for the first time in a long while. “I hope it helps you as you have helped me.”

  The blond soldier shook her head. “I have done nothing to aid you.”

  “No, you have. I cannot tell you what your offer of assistance means to me.” Angelique again had to fight off the desire to hug Quinn, but her mirth faded as reality bit through the bubble of happiness her exchange with the soldier had provided. “Unfortunately, I should continue with my search.” It took a lot of effort to keep her smile up, but she managed to force it, even though she felt like hunching over again.

  “I understand. But first please let me tell you how to contact me, should you change your mind,” Quinn said.

  “I would appreciate that, thank you.” Angelique wiped her hands on her dress, which bloomed into the purple color of the early morning sky.

  Quinn once again stood with the straight and perfect posture of a soldier as she met Angelique’s gaze. “Also, I request your permission to inform my superior officer of an enchantress in the area. I will not name you, give your location, or mention the details of our meeting.”

  Angelique managed to turn her groan into a sigh at the last second. “When the king hears a report, it will be fairly obvious it is me. I’m the only enchantress on the move at the moment…but I imagine it will be fine.”

  Not. The king will undoubtedly try to contact me and ask me to investigate the princesses.

  An unhappy hiss almost leaked out of Angelique, but she caught herself when she glanced at Quinn and her kind eyes.

  Angelique was exhausted, defeated, and desperate. But she could keep up her smile for a few minutes more, and when the king found her, she could look in on his menagerie of daughters—if only for the sake of the first person who had offered her help in a long time.