Trial of Magic

by K. M. Shea

  “I wish I could come with.” Bridget scowled and planted her hands on her hips. “But as the Red Rider, I can’t leave Farset.”

  “Even your brave horses wouldn’t be able to keep up with Angelique’s mount,” Quinn said. “I shall have to ask Emerys if I may borrow one of his mounts—Fluffy could almost keep up with Pegasus. But I’m unsure if he’d be willing to leave Emerys.” Quinn frowned and thoughtfully tapped her chin.

  “Wait, you really mean it?” Angelique asked.

  “About Fluffy? Yes. He’s quite intimidating.” Quinn nodded to her sister. “He is a strange creature that is almost like a large stag crossed with a horse, but covered in fur similar to a wolf. A bit unnerving, but beautiful.”

  “No, no, no—I wasn’t asking about Fluffy. You’re really willing to come with me?” Angelique asked.

  Chapter 8

  Quinn turned her grave eyes onto Angelique. “I thought we already discussed this.”

  “Yes, but Emerys wants to marry you!”

  “And he will wait until I see my promise through.”

  Angelique stared at Quinn and didn’t know quite what to say.

  Quinn slightly tilted her head. “I’d already assured you I wouldn’t go back on my word.”

  “It’s not that I thought you were making empty promises—I believed that you want to help me, which is more than anyone has done in a long while for me.” Angelique wrung her hands as she struggled to find the words. “It’s just…there’s so much going on. I imagined your priorities would have to shift given the repercussions.”

  Quinn relaxed and settled back into her pillows. “I gave you my word—and your troubles should be a priority. As for all the repercussions, I won’t pretend there’s not work to be done. Emerys will need to connect with his generals and troops, and the Farset government will have to adjust to all the missing officials and warriors returning now that the princesses’ curse is broken. But that is why it is important to work together. It’s like my band.”

  Feeling stupidly shy, Angelique sat down on the edge of Quinn’s bed. “What do you mean?”

  “The Farset army is divided up into bands, and to us soldiers, our bandmates become family. We depend upon one another, and we work together to accomplish what a single soldier cannot. I will go with you to search and help you, while people like Bridget remain in Farset to guard it, and Emerys leaves to reclaim his warriors. It’s the best plan that most efficiently accomplishes what must be done,” Quinn said. “Because you must be helped, Angelique. It doesn’t matter if I could work elsewhere. You need help—so you shall have it.”

  Angelique felt like shrinking under the weight of Quinn’s kind gaze. “Thank you,” she said to her hands.

  “Quinn is right.” Bridget scratched her jaw and frowned. “And frankly, I find it disturbing that you expect people to retract their help. That’s despicable.”

  Angelique shrugged. “The continent is an unsteady place. I cannot blame the leadership for focusing on the areas that will prove crucial to our survival.”

  “Maybe, but it still seems silly that they haven’t given you additional help,” Bridget grumbled.

  “I’ve had some help from a group of smugglers,” Angelique said. “Odette and her crew have aided me when I’ve been on several particularly sticky assignments.”

  Bridget squinted. “If you’re trying to convince us, you should probably just stay quiet.”

  “Bridget!” Quinn said.

  “It’s not like I’m wrong!”

  Angelique laughed as some of the tension she’d been holding bottled up in her heart loosened. “Your parents have raised honorable daughters.”

  “Could we get that in writing?” Bridget asked. “Mum will faint if we tell her a Lady Enchantress called us honorable.”

  Quinn swatted a hand at her sister but addressed Angelique. “It’s settled, then. I’m coming with you. We’ll need to discuss what supplies will be necessary to pack and when we should leave.”

  “It won’t be anytime soon.” Angelique pointedly stared at Quinn’s injured shoulder.

  Quinn made a “hmm” noise in the back of her throat as she also peered at her shoulder.

  “I’m glad that’s figured out,” Bridget said. “You both seem equally muleheaded, so between the two of you, I’m sure it will work out well.”

  “Bridget,” Quinn growled.

  Bridget grinned at Quinn, but then turned all of her attention to Angelique, her eyes sparkling with glee. “So, you like magic horses, do you? Do you want to meet my red horses? I bet they’ll let you ride them—and I also bet unlike Quinn, you’re not too scared to take them up on the offer!”

  As Angelique predicted, they didn’t leave for about two weeks as Quinn needed time to heal. Angelique used the days to send messages to Prince Severin of Loire to bring him up to speed—and given that Bridget, along with all the soldiers in Quinn’s band, were being named elf-friends in a fancy ceremony, Angelique insisted they remain until the ceremony was over.

  A part of Angelique thought they’d never actually leave—she’d been thwarted too many times for the tiny flame of hope that had sparked in her chest to do more than just sputter in dread.

  So when early afternoon arrived and found her mounted on Pegasus while Quinn went over the supply list and checked the gear she’d strapped to Fluffy, Angelique was almost addled with shock that it was actually happening.

  “Rope, a bedroll, travel rations…” Wrinkles spread across Quinn’s forehead as she went down her list.

  “Do you have enough rations?” Emerys frowned as he peered over Quinn’s shoulder. “Maybe you ought to take more. There’s no telling if Angelique will actually stop to feed you if you do find a lead.”

  Quinn ignored her love’s suggestion. “Angelique, did I place two spare quivers of arrows or three in your magnificent bag?”

  “Two,” Angelique said. “But then Emerys gave me three more, so you’ve got five.”

  Emerys smiled winningly at Quinn as he leaned against Fluffy. The mount shifted slightly, almost jabbing him with its massive antlers that grew out of its head—which was long like a horse’s but tapered like a deer’s.

  Quinn pursed her lips at him. “Stop interfering. I’ve been a professional soldier and hunted monsters far longer than I’ve known you.”

  “Yes, but you can’t ever have too many arrows.” Emerys abandoned his spot for the sake of his health and strolled up to Pegasus and Angelique. “And besides, Angelique’s bag can hold a closet’s worth of items.”

  Quinn frowned.

  Emerys laughed airily and tried to rest an arm on Pegasus’ backside, but the constellation smacked his hindquarters into the Elf King, making him stagger a step.

  “I apologize, Pegasus.” Emerys tipped his head in respect to Pegasus, then shifted his gaze to Angelique. “Good luck. Normally I’d ask you to take care of Quinn, but frankly I suspect she’ll be the one fishing you out of trouble because that’s just who she is.” Emery’s offered her a quick grin, which faded into an iron-like determination. “You’ll find him, Angelique. I know it.”

  “Thank you.” Angelique briefly struggled to swallow around the unexpected lump in her throat.

  “You promise you’ll only search until spring?” Emerys asked.

  Angelique would have scoffed at him, if not for the shadow of concern that darkened his eyes.

  “Yes, Emerys. Once spring comes, Quinn shall return to you for the most annoyingly large wedding of the century.”

  Emerys grimaced. “Don’t let Alastryn hear you say that—she’ll try to make it happen.” He shifted his stance as his exaggerated horror faded away. “It should only take a season for us to find my armies and generals with the Black Swan Smugglers’ help. The largest irritation will be waiting for enough of my magic to return so I can break my warriors’ curse.” He furrowed his brow and glanced up at her, magic flickering in his eyes. “I know I already promised you once, but I will swear it again, Angelique.
Once my forces fully recover, I will help you find Evariste.”

  Unused to getting warm feelings from the annoying monarch and actually liking him, Angelique cleared her throat. “Thank you. But while I appreciate your well wishes, shouldn’t you be saying your farewells to Quinn?”

  “Nah, we already did.” Emerys’ grin returned. “A very long, warm and—”

  Angelique gathered up her reins. “I really don’t care to hear this.”

  Emerys laughed from deep in his chest while Quinn mounted Fluffy and settled her feet in the stirrups.

  Quinn twisted in her saddle to peer at her gear, then nodded in satisfaction. “I believe we are properly outfitted. We can go if—”

  “Lady Enchantress Angelique?”

  Angelique’s heart plummeted when an elf riding a buckskin-colored horse galloped into the clearing, nearly running over a few well-wishers.

  The elf on horseback slowed his horse to a trot, but the animal tossed its head and snorted as he pulled it into a tight circle. “Lady Enchantress Angelique?” the rider repeated.

  “Yes?” Dread frothed in Angelique’s stomach, and she placed her hands on Pegasus’ shoulders for moral support.

  Here it is. Someone else asking for my help—I knew I’d never get the chance to search for Evariste.

  “I have a communication for you from Prince Severin of Loire.” The rider held up a letter sealed with wax. “The messenger is waiting at the border of Alabaster Forest but said it was an important communication that you need to receive immediately.”

  That kind of preamble makes me more certain I’m about to be asked to put out another fire. I hope it’s not a curse—if it’s a curse, I’m going on strike.

  The rider directed his horse just close enough to pass the letter off before the spirited animal danced away.

  Pegasus snorted a few sparks, unimpressed with the elven mount’s exuberance.

  Angelique would have normally smiled at his antics, but dread was making her tongue go numb and brought a sour taste to her mouth as she broke the seal and scanned the contents of the letter.

  Angelique,

  In your last missive, you mentioned you and the soldier who broke the elves’ curse will be riding to Mullberg to search for Lord Enchanter Evariste.

  I request that you stop by Chanceux Chateau while en route. I have received some intel that may be of use to you.

  In remarkably different scrawl, someone had written just below that,

  I’d love to see you again and meet this Quinn. She sounds fun!

  Severin of Loire

  Elle of the fancy front parlor

  All of Angelique’s fears fell away as she studied Severin’s letter—and the scrawled note from Elle. Surprisingly, a wave of warmth enveloped Angelique.

  This is fantastic—perhaps it’s the best letter I’ve received in my entire life. Any information will be a help, and Severin is not one to exaggerate, so it must be some first-rate information. Besides, we have to ride northeast through Loire to make it to Mullberg anyway—Chanceux Chateau is practically on the way.

  She almost sagged in her saddle with sweet relief—some of which must have shown on her face because when she looked up, Quinn and Emerys were smiling.

  “Good news?” Quinn asked.

  “Fantastic news!” Angelique said. “We might have a lead!”

  Evariste rolled his head, trying to loosen his muscles that felt permanently cramped from the pain. The movement incited jolts of pain up and down his spine, but he was already sweating from the constant agony that was the mirror feeding off his magic.

  He was still actively placing himself between the mirror and his magic. It didn’t do much besides make the pain downright agonizing. But he felt better knowing he was resisting—even if the only outcome was irritating the ancient and evil mirror.

  But the pain growing worse—something Evariste didn’t think was possible—and the mirror’s effect on Queen Faina of Mullberg was starting to strengthen despite his efforts.

  Evariste stared out at the murky front of the mirror—unable to see much given the darkness of the queen’s chambers.

  Queen Faina had left shortly after midnight, moaning in pain. It was just Evariste—and the mirror, of course.

  “Why resist? You’re never going to escape. You are entirely in my power,” it whispered.

  Evariste rallied the effort to yawn, showing the mirror just how little he cared about it. He regretted the display when hot pain burrowed into the hinge of his jaw.

  Everything in him was tensed with pain—even his teeth hurt and his eyelids ached.

  I’d do anything to sleep for an hour. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept. The mirror hadn’t even granted him the courtesy of letting him pass out from pain.

  Whenever he was on the brink of it, the mirror lashed out with a singing magic that burned at Evariste’s skin.

  I wonder if I’ll lose my mind soon, Evariste dully thought. Could the mirror still use my magic then? Or would it go mad with me? I imagine my sanity level wouldn’t matter to it. It would just be gleeful there was no resistance.

  That thought alone made Evariste sit up a little taller despite the hot pain that tore through his lower back as the mirror ripped another strand of his magic free for its use. That was the only reason why he didn’t appear half dead when the black mage appeared.

  Evariste didn’t even know he was there until the haze of the mirror faded, revealing a thin, elderly man wearing a gray cloak.

  Evariste had seen him before. Every so often—maybe once a week or once a month? He didn’t know. Time ran differently in the mirror—a Chosen mage appeared to check on the mirror’s progress with Queen Faina, renew its orders, and to glance at Evariste as well.

  Although the man’s limbs were skinny like sticks and he wheezed whenever he breathed—a combination that made him appear less than one day from the grave—when the Chosen mage reached out, Evariste braced himself.

  “Are you sleeping, Lord Enchanter Evariste? Time to wake up!” The mage put a hand on the edges of the mirror and, as if he were picking up a toy block, hefted the entire mirror up—even though it was taller than he was. He shook it, jostling the mirror.

  Strength magic—not a usual power.

  Evariste didn’t feel it overly much—it made the ground ripple underneath him, but the motion was not as violent as the mage was hoping—so he stayed sitting where he was, watching the mage with a purposely lazy expression.

  “Use me…” the mirror whispered to the mage.

  “We are.” The old man’s laugh was high-pitched and raspy, and after a moment it descended into a cough that wracked his body for a good minute before he recovered.

  Evariste stared past the man into Queen’s Faina darkened room, his eyes starved for any sight besides the rusty, brownish-red that continuously filled his sight, even if all he saw was blackness.

  The mage wiped his mouth off on his sleeve, then pressed so close to the mirror he nearly mashed his mottled red nose against its surface. “Lord Enchanter? You haven’t finally died, have you? Me and the boys have bets going for when you finally break and croak, and I said you’d last at least another week!”

  “My spite keeps me alive,” Evariste drawled. “Your beloved leader told me she didn’t believe I could survive this. But I live to hear of the day she chokes on her own ambition and black magic.” He fell silent, refusing to show an ounce more of weakness, when the mirror sucked more magic from him, making his fingers pop.

  The mage grunted. “Sounds right. We were told you’d never last this long. Lady Liliane figured the mirror would chew you up right an’ finish you off fast. She’s been getting’ fair terse in her orders to us. It’s been months since you arrived, and not only are you still sulking and alive, but Princess Snow White is blithely runnin’ around.” He backed up a step so he could scowl up at the giant red ruby that was fixed on the top of the mirror’s frame. “Care to explain yourself, tool?”

 
; “I follow the orders I am given.”

  “Yeah, and you were sent to end the princess’ life and crush Mullberg with the insane queen. None of which has been accomplished—even though you’ve had years, and Lady Liliane gave you a pet enchanter to eat.”

  “One enchanter’s magic is but a droplet compared to my potential. I need more.”

  “You ain’t getting more until you actually do somethin!” The mage hawked a disgusting wad of phlegm and spat it on the mirror’s frame.

  It grew dim inside the mirror. The endless stretch of brown-red swirled, becoming the bright, vivid red of fresh blood.

  For a moment, the constant pain disappeared, giving Evariste the first moment of relief he’d experienced since being shut in the mirror.

  Instead, his surroundings trembled with raw power—an unforgiving sensation which stretched on like the deepest abyss and threatened to swallow everything in its unending hunger.

  Evariste’s limbs grew numb from the ancient power, and he felt the thump of his heart start to slow.

  And still the mirror’s powers rolled on, smashing through Evariste.

  He gasped as the foreign sensation ravaged through him. The mirror’s power was strange and horrible—unlike any powers Evariste had felt before in its disregard for anything alive. It would consume and destroy until nothing was left. It was forged to destroy, and although it could technically be bidden, it would bide its time until it could eradicate everything.

  I assumed Liliane’s goal was to take over the continent and rule it—like the Chosen of the past. But the mirror wants to destroy everything—people, animals, even the land itself!

  The mirror’s powers surged, wrapping around the Chosen mage—who laughed.

  A moment passed as the mirror’s magic tightened, and the mage stopped laughing and swore instead. The old man turned on his heels and ran through the magic—spitting curses with every hop he took. He disappeared from sight, but Evariste could hear the thudfalls of his feet for several moments, and then the shattering of broken glass.