Trial of Magic

by K. M. Shea

  Chapter 2

  After Quinn gave Angelique the name of her band—the small, tight-knit units all Farset soldiers were organized into—and her commanding officer, the two parted ways.

  Quinn rode off on her horse (after about five minutes of reassurances that Angelique didn’t need an escort anywhere), and Angelique left the dirt road and trundled through the woods.

  The trees hadn’t shed all their leaves yet; many were still puffed with vibrant crimson and bold yellow leaves. But Angelique barely noticed them as she doggedly marched on, picking her way through underbrush until she almost rammed into the magical border that marked off Alabaster Forest from human-owned territory.

  Elf magic felt different from the magic of humans. It had a tangy, powerful feel to it that made it recognizable as Angelique toed the border.

  She squinted, wrinkling her nose as she peered into the elf-owned woods and looked for any sign of life. “King Themerysaldi!”

  Silence.

  “Lady Alastryn?”

  Still nothing.

  Angelique grunted. “Not that I expected something. How many times have I hollered myself hoarse at this border?”

  She started walking parallel with the border and picked her way around fallen logs and leaf-less bushes, stopping occasionally to holler over the border.

  An hour passed, and she saw no one.

  Are they deaf, or does the curse bar them from even approaching the boundaries of their lands? Angelique moodily folded her arms over her chest as she eyed the border.

  She sighed and slumped against a tree. Do I keep standing out here screaming like I’ve lost my mind? I don’t think Pegasus is going to come, though, if I call. Maybe I can find the tree Evariste planted his permanent gate in and take it home to Wistful Thicket.

  She glanced at the sky and realized that besides the rattling sound produced by empty branches shaking in the breeze, the forest was silent.

  It was a smothering silence that pulled through the forest like a thick, scratchy blanket.

  Not a bird chirped, not an animal rustled, which grated at Angelique.

  She mashed her lips together and flexed her hands, letting silver magic trickle through her fingers.

  Angelique heard the groan of a tree trunk and the snap of wood breaking.

  She swung around, already forging a shield spell, which she thrust out in front of her as the snapped trunk of a tree hurtled her way.

  The trunk smashed into her opalescent shield, which crackled with hissing magic. The shield bulged awkwardly for a moment before Angelique strengthened it with so much magic, it engulfed the tree trunk, cracking it into splinters and sawdust.

  An angry roar ripped through the silence of the forest.

  A troll.

  Angelique heard it before she saw it as it crashed its way through the underbrush, smashing trees and ripping bushes and saplings from the ground. With all the destruction it wreaked, it took only a few moments before its ugly hide was visible.

  It was slightly larger than average for a troll—perhaps around nine feet tall—and had limbs as thick as tree trunks and a hide that was stiff and hard. Even at a run, the troll looked like a strange combination of rock and damp wood.

  Its yellow teeth jutted out of its mouth in a massive underbite, and its nose looked like it had been smashed into its face so many times it no longer stuck out. Ropy drool dropped from its mouth as it loped closer, wildly swinging its arms to beat tree branches back.

  Trolls usually stuck to swampy wetlands or wetter forests. It was rare to find one in a place like Farset, particularly this close to Alabaster Forest. But Angelique had encountered a troll in Farset before, back when she and Evariste were visiting the elves.

  At the time she’d been terrified and had accidentally hurt Evariste as she tried to fight it.

  Unfortunately for this troll, years of scraping by without Evariste had carved through Angelique like claws.

  With no one to count on but herself, she’d been forced to fight and survive alone against enemies far more powerful. She was a different magic user than she’d been when she’d first encountered a troll years ago in these woods.

  Which was why, with the troll roaring and bearing down on her like a herd of stampeding cattle, Angelique only raised an eyebrow.

  With a casualness that would have horrified her as a student, Angelique dropped her shield. Magic twined around her, and she whispered in the language of magic as she slowly extended a hand and pointed at the troll.

  It was almost on her, now. It was so close, its putrid, swamp-water scent made her eyes water.

  But Angelique held her ground, her face blank of emotion, and waited until it reached for her before releasing her spell.

  With a deep groan that shifted all the trees in the area, the ground snapped open in a gaping, pitch-black hole.

  The troll half fell in, but it managed to catch itself on the rim, its stubby fingers grasping at the dry ground for a hold.

  The jagged jaws of the earth clamped down around it and squeezed.

  Angelique released another spell, and the tree closest to the struggling troll bent so deeply it crackled on ground, then smacked the troll’s fingers with its whip-like branches.

  The troll bellowed as it lost its grasp and fell all the way into the hole.

  The ground sealed over the hole, and dead grass and leaves crawled across the dirt patch until it looked virtually undisturbed.

  It had been so easy this time—a result of more battles than Angelique ever thought she’d see in her lifetime.

  More than ever Angelique longed to turn around and point out to Evariste how much she had improved…but he wasn’t there.

  He hadn’t been there for years.

  “I am not the same girl I was back then,” Angelique snarled at the still ground. “You will find it a thousand times harder to kill me, even if I don’t use my core magic. Even if I am alone.”

  Angry tears stung Angelique’s eyes, and her shoulders shook. She was so consumed with emotion, it took her a few moments to realize the earth was shaking.

  Her heart jumped to her throat as she felt someone ancient and powerful. It was distant, but it was charging at such a rapid pace, it would be on her within moments.

  Angelique scrambled to raise a shield.

  What could this possibly be? Did that black mage report back to the Chosen, and now they’re sending monsters after me to eliminate me?

  Angelique crouched down and pushed herself against the thick trunk of a leaning oak tree.

  She forced herself to stay calm as she channeled more of her magic, twisting it into a usable form.

  The thing stormed closer and closer. The ground rumbled, and the sky seemed to dim under the threat of whatever it was.

  Angelique held her breath as she cradled a lightning spell in her arms, and the thing burst through the trees.

  It was…Pegasus.

  Black mist billowed around him like angry storm clouds. Blue flames engulfed his hooves and crawled up his legs, and his immense wings filled the empty circle. He screamed, and the sound filled Angelique’s head and made her cry out.

  Pegasus paused and turned to Angelique. He drew his wings closer to his body, and she could feel it when he gazed at her—not just with his eyes, but with his unbearably strong magic that filled the air with such pressure it made her stomach churn.

  “I’m f-fine,” she managed to squeak out.

  Pegasus paused for a moment, then dropped his magic. In an instant, the darkness, his wings, the pressure of his magic, even the blue fire all faded away.

  Pegasus remained standing in the clearing, studying Angelique with great intensity.

  Belatedly, he made a waffling noise horses occasionally made when pleased, casually cocked his back leg, pointed his ears forward, and generally tried to look harmless. (Or as harmless as he could be with his flaming tail and mane and star-spattered body.)

  It wasn’t until he swished his tail that Angelique dar
ed to speak again. “Are you truly trying to fool me—after that display?”

  Pegasus showily tossed his head and pranced a few steps. When he got to Angelique, he lowered his head and started pushily bumping her with his muzzle.

  With his encouragement, Angelique scrambled to her feet. “No, I’m not injured. It was just a troll.”

  Pegasus snorted.

  “Yes, I said just a troll. After everything we’ve faced together, it’s an easy foe to defeat.” Angelique scoffed as she brushed leaves off her gown, then paused to rethink what she’d just said.

  That’s right. I’m not really alone. Pegasus has been my near constant companion for years, now. He’s helped me when no one else has.

  She stood still as Pegasus continued to conduct his examination, prodding her with his muzzle, snorting when he scented something on her that he didn’t like.

  Angelique cleared her throat. “Pegasus?”

  The dark-colored horse lifted his head.

  “Am I forgiven?”

  Pegasus sneezed in her face.

  Angelique squeezed her eyes shut. “That was gross.”

  Pegasus nickered wickedly.

  Angelique rubbed at her cheeks, trying to clean them of horse snot. “I was thinking about what you said, and it made me wonder. Do you know where the gate Evariste made is?”

  Evariste possessed a very rare and powerful sort of magic that let him create transportation gates that served as portals. When you stepped through a gate, you were instantly teleported to the other location it was grounded in.

  Since Evariste was such great friends with the Elf King, he’d forged a permanent gate in a tree near the border of Alabaster Woods that opened up into his sitting room in his home, Wistful Thicket, located far south in Torrens. (The gate was more of a window, actually. But it worked in a pinch—Angelique had used it shortly after Evariste had first been captured.)

  Pegasus tilted his head in thought, then gave Angelique a jerky nod. He turned so his back—bare of the usual golden tack he produced for her—was directly in front of her.

  Angelique followed his unspoken command and clambered on, wincing when she accidentally kneed him in the side. “Sorry.”

  Pegasus pricked his ears and waited for her to settle her colorful skirts across his back before he started walking.

  “If we can find it, I think I’ll go home using the portal.” Angelique patted Pegasus’ neck and slouched unbecomingly as his large steps rocked her from side to side. “I still want to keep trying to reach the elves, so I can come back by the portal tomorrow, but I think you’re right: I just want to be home.”

  Pegasus tossed his head and snorted in approval.

  The constellation picked his way through the forest, and several minutes later, Angelique felt the warm, familiar sensation of Evariste’s magic.

  Pegasus took her straight to the tree that held the window-sized gate hidden in its trunk and was spelled against prying eyes.

  Peering through the gate—which hummed with Evariste’s magic—Angelique could see the sitting room of the Lord Enchanter’s house.

  Lazy, afternoon sunlight streaked in through the windows, bathing the comfortable furniture in gold. Nothing looked disturbed, and Angelique could pick out the foreign script of magic as the defensive spells pulsed around the edge of the ceiling.

  “Everything looks fine on the Torrens’ end, so I won’t need you to meet me there.” Angelique slid off Pegasus, hopping a little at the very long drop. “You can go back to the sky.”

  Pegasus flared his nostrils at her.

  “You’ve been with me a lot,” Angelique pointed out. “And I’ll need you again when it’s time to leave, so a rest would be a good idea.”

  Pegasus twitched his nose, then jerked his head in a semblance of a nod.

  Angelique turned to the window, but paused. “Pegasus?”

  The starry equine flicked an ear.

  Angelique bit her lip, but she gave into a deep impulse and flung herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck. “It’s fine if you’re still mad at me, but…”

  She didn’t know how to put into words what she was feeling.

  Shortly before Evariste had been taken, she’d gotten into a spectacular argument with him. They’d never made up after it, and now it was too late.

  Their argument was a constant, painful reminder of just how much she had failed him.

  She didn’t want to experience it ever again.

  Pegasus pressed his jawline into her back in his version of a hug.

  “Thank you.” Angelique threaded her fingers through his flaming hair—which warmed her fingers but didn’t burn like a regular fire, and somehow it still had a solid, hair-like texture to it.

  She sucked in a deep breath, then stepped back and mustered up a smile. “I’ll call for you in a few days.”

  Pegasus swished his tail and bumped Angelique with his muzzle, pushing her closer to the tree.

  It was easier to climb into the portal this time—granted, she wasn’t sobbing, in shock, and terrified like she had been the last time she had to use it. But Angelique suspected part of it might be that she’d been keeping up with her fighting practices and routines, and her increased upper body strength made it easier to climb her way up the tree.

  Squeezing through the window-sized portal wasn’t a pleasant sensation. The smaller space pressed down on her as she passed through a curtain of Evariste’s magic, and the full skirts of her dress got stuck on the window frame, so she was stuck with her front half in Torrens and her legs in Farset until she was able to yank herself free.

  She fell on a cushioned settee with an oomph, upsetting the air.

  Angelique slowly sat up and really looked around the room.

  She’d thought the house would feel neglected—maybe there would be stale air, or the furniture would have a layer of dust. It should be at least a little desolate having gone without its master for years.

  Instead, it was exactly as Angelique remembered from her early days as Evariste’s apprentice.

  The air smelled clean, with a faint whiff of potent spices from the kitchen. None of the furniture had been moved or rearranged since the restoration mages from the Veneno Conclave had cleaned the house up after the dark mages had blown the sitting room to smithereens in the attack.

  The defensive spells Evariste had woven into the house pulsed with power—Angelique’s, to be precise. She’d recast them once the original set were broken by the black mages that took Evariste. But she could also feel a few of the other pieces of magic that kept the place going. (One felt suspiciously like a cleaning spell, which would explain the gleaming wooden furniture, spotless floors, and perfectly pressed hallway rugs.)

  Through the windows, Angelique could see a deer sniffing at some dead leaves on the front lawn. The swans that lived in the pond out front were gone—it was too close to winter for them to be around still—but a pair of ducks had taken over and were happily splashing in the clear water.

  Surrounded by so much familiarity, for a moment Angelique half-expected to hear Evariste’s footsteps as he came down the stairs.

  But the moment passed, bringing Angelique back to reality.

  She took a deep breath and turned around to peer at the Farset portal.

  Pegasus stood on the other side, dark and brooding.

  Angelique waved to him solemnly, and he turned and trotted off—most likely preparing to return to the skies. Hopefully preparing to return to the skies.

  As a constellation, it seemed important that he return to his heavenly domain from time to time. Angelique had no proof of this, but it felt logical.

  When she was certain he had moved on, Angelique sighed. “I’m home.”

  Her words seemed to rattle around the empty house, but for once Angelique didn’t mind being alone.

  She’d been gone for so long, and she’d done so much.

  The house—empty as it was—seemed to wrap around her like a warm blanket. For the
first time in a long time, Angelique relaxed.

  She would survive this.

  She’d go to sleep, and in the morning, she’d wriggle her way back through the uncomfortable portal and scream for King Themerysaldi some more.

  She wasn’t going to give up on finding Evariste. Coming home where memories of his voice and laughter teased her only hardened her resolve.

  She’d find him. No matter what.

  The nauseating scent of blood and smoke made Evariste’s gut churn as he tried to shut his eyes and block out at least that sense.

  But the pervasive brown-red shade—the color of dried blood—was everywhere, even under his eyelids.

  To think there would ever be a day where I’d long for the boring, gray mirror Liliane once kept me in. At least there the pain was fleeting…and I had a chance to glean even a tiny bit of information off the Chosen.

  Another wave of pain hit him—serrated, like a kitchen knife stabbing his belly. The pain intensified as the mirror drained more of his magic from him, tearing it from his soul, through his body, and out his pores with an indifferent delight.

  His muscles—which he’d long ago lost complete control over between the endless pain and the icy numbness that was setting in—twitched, briefly making him curl in a ball.

  The pain was unbearable, but he didn’t scream. He couldn’t—he’d lost his voice days ago. Or was it months ago?

  “Yes, enchanter. Your power was once lauded, and now you can only sit in your own misery,” the mirror whispered, echoing in Evariste’s brain even though he didn’t hear the words with his ears.

  Someone groaned. It took Evariste a moment to recognize it hadn’t been him.

  “Stepmother?” the voice was warped and warbled as it pierced the fog that surrounded the mirror.

  “Is it another headache?” the voice asked.

  “I’m fine, Snow White. I just need a little rest—if you would please attend the Cabinet meeting alone?”

  Whispers scuttled through his surroundings, and Evariste waited for the princess’s reply.

  “Very well.” Taps echoed through the mirror as the princess walked across the queen’s quarters.