Trial of Magic

by K. M. Shea

  Angelique squinted at the Elf King, considering him.

  His inky black hair had a blue haze to it from the light of Pegasus’ mane, but the look on his face was a rare mesh of seriousness and curiosity.

  I’ve never been overly fond of Themerysaldi—he’s too sharp and rude. Or maybe it’s that his poor temperament is too much like mine. But I respect him. He’s powerful, and he knows what he’s doing. And as a friend of Evariste’s, I know I can trust him.

  Angelique pressed her lips together, then slowly nodded. “I don’t like what happens when I use my magic.”

  “The end result?”

  “That, too. But I was referring to the feeling of my magic itself.”

  Themerysaldi peered into the woods—looking in the direction of the goblin cackles that were slowly drawing closer. “Describe it.”

  “It’s very…eager to be used.” Angelique spread her fingers wide and watched silvery magic pool at her fingertips, even though she hadn’t pulled on her powers. “Too eager. If I lose my death grip on it, it’ll run wild.”

  “And that’s a bad thing?”

  “Yes!” Angelique shivered. “It’s so potent it feels…no…I’ve seen it consume other magic. It doesn’t fight for dominance; it overpowers and eats other magic. I fought a black mage before I came to Alabaster Forest, and my magic almost swallowed him whole.”

  “Hmm.” Themerysaldi nodded slowly, his eyebrows twitching as he thought.

  He’s actually thinking about it.

  Something in Angelique loosened at the realization. So many times Evariste or Sybilla had swatted off her concerns as silly. But Themerysaldi had listened and was actually considering Angelique’s fears.

  There was something about it—that he hadn’t bothered to minimize her worries—that made Angelique feel better.

  It felt almost disloyal to even think that (Evariste had done so much for her), but it seemed to Angelique he was so certain in her magic that he didn’t listen to her.

  “This happens all the time, or only in specific situations?” Themerysaldi asked, interrupting her thoughts.

  “All the—” Angelique paused when Pegasus sucked a lock of her hair into his mouth and pulled just hard enough that she felt pressure on her scalp. “Well, whenever I use my core magic, which is only when I fight.”

  “Ahhh. That is an important distinction,” Themerysaldi said, “and one that explains a lot.”

  Angelique furrowed her brow. “In what way?”

  “Because when you fight, you face—what were some of the enemies you told me about? A basilisk, a wyvern, black mages? Goblins too, obviously. It doesn’t matter.” Themerysaldi dramatically swept a hand through the air. “The point is you are fighting evil and darkness.”

  “Yes.”

  “And that is why your magic acts so.”

  “…I’m not following your reasoning.”

  “Look. Your magic comes from your soul, right? While it’s not a sentient thing per se, given where it’s coming from, it’s going to have a flavor of you to it,” Themerysaldi said. “And you can’t stand anything evil or twisted. It’s abhorrent to you. Naturally, that’s going to mean your magic reacts stronger—perhaps almost violently so—to it as well.”

  Angelique blinked. “That seems like a large leap in logic.”

  “How? You’ve never really hurt anyone with your magic—that one incident with Evariste-the-sloppy doesn’t count,” Themerysaldi countered.

  “There’s never been a moment where I’d consider using my magic on others, so we can’t know for sure it wouldn’t react just as enthusiastically in attacking the helpless,” Angelique said.

  “Yes, we can—because you’d never harm someone like that.” Themerysaldi casually nocked an arrow in his bow and leaned back against the tree.

  “You can’t say that for certain. What if in the darkest moment I do strike out at the innocent,” Angelique argued. “We can’t know—”

  “But we can,” Themerysaldi interrupted. “Because you’ve had dark moments. You’ve practically lived in dark moments these past few years. Your master was taken; you’ve been forced to face down an assortment of evil creatures and vile magic users that normally only a seasoned enchanter would be sent after; you had to face down fellow mages and strike out from the Veneno Conclave.”

  “Never once have you turned on the innocent. Rather, you’ve doubled down on fighting against what is wrong,” Themerysaldi said. “Your magic is going to have that same kind of awful—annoying—stubbornness. And enthusiasm.” Themerysaldi peered around the trunk of the tree.

  The chunk of the goblin army that Themerysaldi’s archers had split off and driven away were visible. Mostly Angelique just saw the sputtering torches they carried—which were pinpricks of light in the smothering darkness of the forest.

  An elf stepped out of the shadows and bowed to Themerysaldi over his arm. “We have driven another group of goblin troops here, Your Majesty.”

  “I can see that, but thank you. Keep ‘em moving, and we’ll take care of it.” Themerysaldi said.

  “Yes, Your Majesty.” The elf stepped back into the shadows, disappearing.

  “Your rationale makes sense. At least it’s the most sensible explanation I’ve been told,” Angelique said.

  “About your magic? Of course, I’m right. But you don’t believe it, do you?” Themerysaldi gave her the side eye.

  “It’s not that I disbelieve you.” Angelique hesitated and stepped around a tree trunk, watching the goblins as they scrambled closer—hollering and shrieking as they charged through the underbrush. “You’ve given me a lot to think about. And what you’ve said makes more sense than any of the empty platitudes I’ve heard others say.”

  “I assume you’re referring to Evariste, which—in his defense—it would be pretty obvious you’d never hurt anyone, so he’d never think it would even be necessary to break it down for you. Annoying prodigy—most geniuses are a pain that way, you know?” Themerysaldi started to scoff, then froze.

  Judging by the brief look of pain that flashed across his face, Angelique guessed the Elf King finally remembered that Evariste was missing.

  She looked away from him, giving him a moment to grieve as she studied the goblin force. They were now close enough that their torches lit up the woods, showing that Themerysaldi’s guess of approximately thirty goblins was correct.

  I guess it’s time to act.

  “Let’s have an experiment,” Themerysaldi said abruptly.

  “Huh?” Angelique peered over her shoulder to scowl at the Elf King.

  He removed his nocked arrow from his bow and slid it back into his belt quiver. “I’ll go out there in the goblin force. You let your magic run wild—if it’s as dangerous as you say it is, it will try to harm me. If I’m right, it’ll be harmless.”

  “Are you insane?” Angelique scoffed. “Did the curse finally break that thin thread of sanity you’ve been holding onto for most of your life?”

  Themerysaldi clicked his tongue. “Temper, temper. And no—but I’m the best shot you’ve got at answering this question. I’m an elf, after all. Your magic won’t be able to keep up.”

  “Maybe, except for, oh, I don’t know—the part where you don’t have any magic!” Angelique hissed, her shoulders hunching like an angry cat.

  The goblins were almost on them, now. A few of the creatures leading the charge flicked their enormous bat-like ears—probably hearing Angelique’s raised voice.

  “I don’t have any magic, but I still have my speed and strength,” Themerysaldi pointed out.

  “I don’t care! I don’t want to be known as the Elf King slayer!”

  He smirked. “Now you’re getting a big head. Do you really think an enchantress could kill an Elf King?”

  “One that doesn’t have magic at the moment, clearly lacks intelligence, is currently doe-eyed over a human soldier, and is generally insufferable? Yes. I think one could.”

  One of the goblins left th
e front line—which had slowed now that the elven archers were no longer driving them—and was about two trees away from Angelique.

  I’ve run out of time. I’ll have to address these goblins before I give Themerysaldi a detailed analysis of all the reasons why his plan is stupid.

  Angelique gathered up her core magic. Whether it was because she’d used it so much over the past few hours, or because it was just that eager, it encased her body in a silvery light. She flung her magic at the goblins—heaving it like a fisherman throwing a net. But of course her magic had to be deceptive, so rather than looking as frightening as it was, it fell on the goblins like starlight, dusting them as it dripped down their bodies and pooled around their crude weapons.

  She grimaced as her magic stretched her awareness across the blades, spears, and arrows. The goblins made curious noises as they tried to brush the silvery magic off the weapons and failed.

  Ignoring their panicked yelps, Angelique yanked a finger up, and the weapons pulled free from the goblins’ grasp, hovering above their heads.

  Before the goblins had a chance to react, she twisted her magic, flinging the weapons back at the goblins, finishing them off with a frightening efficiency.

  The sour scent of bile and blood assaulted Angelique’s senses. She gritted her teeth and hefted the weapons back up in the air, repositioning them before sending the second attack at the few goblins that had survived the first.

  Angelique squeezed her eyes shut as the goblins died with gurgles. She relinquished the grip her magic had over the weapons and shivered.

  It’s done. For now.

  Her stomach twinged, but otherwise she felt no discomfort—besides the persistent nagging sensation that it shouldn’t be this easy for her. Magic shouldn’t be dangerous—

  “See? What did I tell you? I’m completely unharmed.”

  Chapter 7

  Angelique snapped her eyes open, and she finally noticed the lone figure standing among the slaughtered goblins—King Themerysaldi the Idiot.

  “Though in standing here, I must be forced to admit that you have the aim of an elf,” Themerysaldi said. “That was exceptional all around.”

  Angelique slapped her hand on a nearby tree trunk—both to steady herself and to keep from storming out to the king. “You really are insane!” The rough bark of the barren tree dug into her palm. “Why did you do that?”

  “To prove my point,” Themerysaldi said. “You’re not going to hurt anyone, Angelique. You’re too righteous—your magic would never allow it.”

  Angelique rubbed her temples—which were tightening with a headache she was starting to suspect would plague her whenever she had to deal with the brash Elf King. “Very well—I understand. My magic isn’t dangerous.”

  “Do you really believe that, or are you just saying that so I don’t do this again?” Themerysaldi squinted at Angelique as his archers picked their way through the goblins, gathering up the torches and dosing them in piles of snow before they could start a fire.

  “It doesn’t matter,” Angelique said. “You should never walk into a mage’s spell. That’s an even more foolhardy move than what you called Evariste’s dunce-like behavior.”

  Themerysaldi shrugged. “It was a good experiment—one you can’t deny gives you proof.”

  “You’re right,” Angelique agreed to placate him. “I will be sure to meditate on it later. When I’m not slaughtering goblins.”

  “Hmmm.” Themerysaldi turned around to address his archers. “How is the main force? Have they figured out our plan yet?”

  “No, Your Majesty. I’m not certain they have the necessary intelligence,” once of the archers reported.

  “They have to, don’t they?” Themerysaldi said. “Or how did they manage to muster like this? Even if the Chosen are organizing them, their cooperation for this large of a force goes against typical goblin nature.”

  Angelique relaxed a little and kicked a little snow that was drifting around the base of her tree, scattering white snowflakes across its bark.

  Hopefully Themerysaldi was through with his experiments for the night.

  She petted Pegasus’ silken neck when he came over, investigating her skirts as he sniffed for treats. Themerysaldi really is an idiot. But even he is wise enough not to pull such a stunt again.

  Except he wasn’t.

  He did it again, and again, and again. In fact, in every goblin force Angelique faced, Themerysaldi popped up in the middle of them like a large, suicidal boil.

  By the time the sun was thawing the sky to a soft blue—Angelique couldn’t tell if it had slipped over the horizon yet due to the trees, but as the sky lacked the gold, pink, and orange colors that usually accompanied a sunrise, she suspected it wasn’t yet up—Angelique was paranoid and exhausted, but satisfied she’d managed to finish off the last band of goblins.

  Sweat trickled down her back as she splayed over Pegasus’ back and glared at the idiot Elf King, who was giving a few remaining orders to his people before he joined her to ride back to Sideralis.

  Once he finished, he turned away from his people and strode up to his waiting mount—Pookie, his massive, coal-black unicorn. He glanced at Angelique before he swung up onto his mount’s back. “You look terrible.”

  Angelique puffed up with anger. “I wonder why!”

  “Did your price activate?” he asked.

  Angelique sat up and twitched her skirts into place. “No,” she admitted.

  Though I’m not sure if that’s because of the way I used my magic or because I spent most of the night watching out for your foolish neck!

  Themerysaldi nudged Pookie into a walk, leading the way back to the elven territory. “That’s a good sign—for you. It means you can manipulate your powers. I suspect the harder and faster you pull your magic, the harsher the price is. It seems that if you keep a connection with it, it delays your price at least by a little.”

  “You mean as long as I use my core magic in a steady stream, my price won’t activate?”

  “Unless you pull hard, yes.” Themerysaldi held the reins in one hand and gestured with the other. “I wish I could teach you more. But unfortunately, the way we use magic is different enough, I can’t offer more than my observations of your power.”

  Angelique shifted—Pegasus had magicked up tack for her, so she was comfortably seated in a saddle rather than being forced to cling to the constellation’s bare back. “It is helpful, still.”

  “Even though you don’t want to use your core magic? Ever?” he asked.

  Angelique nervously dug her fingers into Pegasus’ mane. “My magic still frightens me,” she said, slowly. “But I’m aware that learning more about it would prepare me for the future. So the next time a black mage tries to steal someone away right in front of me, I’ll stop them.”

  No matter how afraid Angelique was of her magic, that was something she knew in her heart. She’d find Evariste and stop the black mages—no matter what the price was.

  “Angelique…about Evariste.”

  Angelique glanced at King Themerysaldi. “What of him?”

  He directed Pookie around a tree, then met Angelique’s gaze. “I saw him after he was taken. Based on the timeline you gave earlier, I suspect it was only a day or two after.”

  All air left Angelique’s lungs. “What?”

  “Two women, a man, and a sorceress the others called Suzu brought him here to Alabaster Forest. That’s how they got through our wards—they used Evariste and his position as elf-friend .” Themerysaldi grimaced. “They also used Evariste’s magic as the power source for our curse.”

  A tingling numbness settled into Angelique’s bones. The pained throb of her heart filled her ears as she struggled to adjust to Themerysaldi’s news.

  They used Evariste’s magic? How? It must have nearly killed Evariste—he loves the elves!

  “But, how? I knew it was likely they were harvesting his magic but…can they really twist Evariste’s magic?” Angelique asked. “
His core magic—his portals—won’t work in the presence of evil. They start to dismantle and shut down.”

  “They didn’t curse us with death—just to remain in the Forest and for the warriors to be banished to wander outside,” Themerysaldi said. “If they had done something more drastic, I imagine you’d be correct, and they wouldn’t be able to abuse his powers.”

  Angelique dropped all pretense of riding and let the reins slip from her numb fingers as she leaned back in the saddle and tried to process it. “You know…most of the recent curses I’ve come across haven’t been death spells or the like. Prince Severin was cursed to have the body and mind of a beast; the Arcainian princes were cursed to turn into swans—they’ve all had the potential to take out their targets, but none of them were outright deadly. Do you think it’s possible the Chosen have been using him to power all of their largest curses?”

  “It’s most likely. You also said all of them have a weakness to romantic love—I’d say that’s another indicator it’s Evariste’s power they’re using.”

  Angelique wrinkled her forehead. “Why?”

  “His magic would force a loophole—as it did for our curse.”

  “You said the key to breaking your curse didn’t involve romantic love,” Angelique said.

  “You’re correct. It required an elf-friend —a personal friend to me—to shed their blood on the white throne in a moment of sacrifice.” Themerysaldi clenched his jaw and stared at the game trail they rode down.

  “Ah. So that’s how Quinn got so injured?”

  “Unfortunately,” he finished quietly.

  Angelique studied the Elf King for a moment. She wanted to push for more information, but the exhausted king looked almost broken at the memory of Quinn’s sacrifice.

  What would Evariste do? He’d cheer up his friend first, for certain.