Trial of Magic

by K. M. Shea

  He must have escaped through a window.

  Evariste forced himself to crouch, warily watching the red surroundings as the ground trembled. This is worse than the pain. This mirror…I hadn’t recognized just how evil it truly is.

  Something howled—not the soulful song of a wolf, but the scream of the deranged threaded with the rumbles of the power hungry.

  And then, abruptly, the blood-red color faded back to a rusty shade, the ground stopped shaking, and all hints of the mirror’s power faded.

  Evariste had only a moment’s breath before the pain slammed into him—fresh and multi-hued—as the mirror returned to feeding on him.

  He collapsed, struggling to breathe.

  But even with all the pain from the mirror dredging his magic through his body, the terror of the mirror’s powers made a horrific enough impression that a single thought still rang through Evariste’s mind, despite the agony.

  How can we beat something this powerful, this old, and this terrifying?

  Chapter 9

  Angelique had visited Prince Severin and Princess Elle at Chanceux Chateau enough times that—dare she say it—she knew what to expect.

  And this…this was not it.

  Angelique felt like an owl as she swiveled in the saddle, trying to look at the sea of soldiers that surrounded them.

  They’d started running into wagons and pack animals about a mile from the chateau’s massive gates, and the closer they got to the chateau, the more soldiers, equipment, horses, and weapons they found.

  On one side of the road, several soldiers were loading what looked like crates of food into a wagon, while on the opposite side, four officers had a map pulled out between them and were talking and gesturing to it—though they stopped long enough to bow to Angelique and Quinn.

  Beyond them—standing at attention on the chateau’s snow-covered lawn—were rows upon rows of soldiers checking their gear and seemingly preparing for muster.

  “Is there a fight we are unaware of?” Quinn asked blithely. Fluffy tossed his head, and she casually patted his neck as they pranced past a squad of calvary soldiers and their mounts that were fitted in warm, winter gear.

  “Not that I’ve heard.” Angelique settled back in the saddle as they rode farther down the chateau’s driveway. “Severin is likely taking some of his troops to a different country.”

  Satisfied with the lackluster answer, Quinn casually smiled and nodded to any soldier or worker who met her eyes after scrutinizing Fluffy’s unique appearance. “He sounds like a sensible prince.”

  “He is,” Angelique agreed. “I’m quite confident you’ll like him—and his wife.”

  The drive funneled them into a courtyard that stretched in front of the main entrance to the chateau and had a convenient path to the cozy stables.

  Angelique dropped her reins—they were mostly for show anyway since Pegasus went where he liked—and used her pointer fingers to prod her most likely red-with-the-cold cheeks.

  Winter had finally arrived in earnest. The snow was only knuckle deep, but the wind that howled across the snowy lawn had a frigid bite to it.

  Just short of the few steps that led into the main entrance, Angelique wriggled off Pegasus’ back, landing with a wobble. Quinn slid off Fluffy in much the same way. Stablehands approached—including Oliver, whom Angelique had known since he was a boy and now was nearly an adult, which slightly traumatized her.

  “Lady Enchantress!” He had to shout to be heard above the whistling wind. “Welcome back to Chanceux Chateau. Can the lads and I care for your steeds?”

  “We would appreciate that. Thank you, Oliver.” Angelique held onto the braid of her hair with one hand to keep it from smacking her in the face from the strength of the wind as she tried to smile.

  Oliver took Pegasus’s reins with more confidence than any person besides Angelique had displayed towards the constellation—though Pegasus clearly recognized him, judging by the way he smacked his muzzle into Oliver’s face in a “friendly” manner.

  Oliver had ridden Pegasus—with Angelique—so he just laughed before patting Pegasus’ star-studded shoulder.

  His fellow stablehand was slower to approach Quinn and Fluffy. The servant fiddled with her hat as she squinted at Fluffy with great confusion.

  “Might I inquire what your…beautiful steed is, mademoiselle?” the stablehand asked Quinn.

  Quinn thoughtfully peered up at her borrowed mount. “I’m not sure. But he’s from the elves.”

  “Ah,” the stablehand said.

  The main doors burst open, and Severin—dressed in a fur-lined cloak with a heavy hood and thick gloves, strode into the wintery air without even a grimace.

  “Lady Enchantress Angelique—and Quinn of Midnight Lake, I presume?” Severin asked. Even above the wind, his low and growly voice—Angelique had wondered on more than one occasion if the growly tone was natural or leftover from his time as a cursed beast—was still perfectly audible.

  Quinn saluted. “At your service.”

  “Severin, are you leaving?” Angelique held onto the skirts of her dress—although the heat charm kept her body toasty, it didn’t keep her skirts from ruffling in the icy wind.

  “Indeed—I actually believed I’d be gone before you arrived. You traveled much faster than I expected.” Severin glanced at Pegasus and Fluffy.

  Oliver had maneuvered Pegasus over to Fluffy and the other stablehand, to join her in looking over Emerys’ unusual mount.

  “What do you think it eats?” the female stablehand asked Oliver.

  “Hay and grain, maybe? Pegasus pretends to eat it sometimes,” Oliver said.

  Carefully, the female stablehand offered a shriveled carrot to Fluffy.

  Fluffy—with an elegant, deer-like grace—nibbled delicately on the carrot.

  The two stable hands visibly relaxed…until Fluffy spit it out.

  “Ahh, yes,” Angelique tried to hide her amusement as trepidation made the stablehands visibly shrink under Fluffy’s intelligent gaze. “Our swift travel is all thanks to our mounts.”

  “I am aware of the pace at which Pegasus can travel.” Severin studied Fluffy, who raised his head high so his antlers towered above the prince. “But I’ve never seen such a steed as this fine animal before.”

  “His name is Fluffy. The King of the Elves gave me permission to borrow him.” Quinn said. “He isn’t as fast as Pegasus—his stamina isn’t quite as good either—but he’s faster than any horse I’ve ridden and can go longer than I can ride.”

  “What Quinn isn’t saying is that she’s engaged to King Themerysaldi, so he gave her his fastest mount to potentially limit the amount of time she’s away from him,” Angelique dryly said.

  “Reasonable,” Severin decided. “I would love to hear more of your exploits—particularly your recount of breaking the elves curse, Quinn of Midnight Lake. Unfortunately, I’m due to take more troops south to Erlauf.”

  “More?” Angelique frowned. “I thought you’d taken several armies there already?”

  “Erlauf needs the fortification. Goblins have been coming down from the mountains at a previously unseen rate. They’ve even been organizing into large armies and marching into Torrens as well, so Erlauf has been forced to send some of their soldiers to help.” The wrinkles that sliced across Severin’s forehead deepened into canyons. “It’s strange. I didn’t think the Chronos Mountains or the Arkane Mountains could support much life besides a few cave and mountain goblin packs, but there’ve been veritable hordes marching upon Erlauf in the past few weeks.”

  “To my knowledge, there is nothing—no spell or artifact—that would allow the Chosen to breed goblins,” Angelique said.

  Off to the side, Oliver dug a piece of jerky out of a pocket of his cloak. After exchanging shrugs, he offered it to Fluffy.

  Fluffy sniffed the meat, then backed up.

  Oliver and his fellow stablehand visibly slumped with relief, until Fluffy stepped forward, swiped Oliver’s knit cap o
ff his head, and then proceeded to eat it despite Oliver’s squawk of outrage.

  “Yes, I’ve asked a few mages about such a phenomena, and they assured me of the same thing.” Severin shook his head. “Regardless, I must be off. But I am glad I am able to see you before I leave, so I might have the honor of sharing the intelligence the rangers uncovered.”

  Angelique fidgeted and tried not to let herself hope. “What did you find out?”

  Maybe he learned if Liliane and Acri are really Chosen members, or maybe he can confirm Evariste’s location?

  “We’ve found a medium-sized black mage stronghold in our northern territory, which is a confirmed site of Chosen mages,” Severin said.

  Nothing to do with Evariste then.

  “Elle will give you the exact location inside, but we’re giving you first crack at it,” Severin said.

  “What do you mean?” Angelique asked.

  “We need to shut it down, but before my men do so, I wanted to give you the opportunity to infiltrate it,” Severin said. “Given that only Verglas is to the north, it’s likely one of the Chosen holdouts closest to Mullberg. If Evariste is indeed captive in Mullberg as you suspect, it’s possible they’ll have record of it.”

  Angelique dumbly watched Oliver and the female stablehand lead Pegasus and Fluffy to the stables—if by lead, one meant charge ahead of the stablehands, who protested the fast pace as they were dragged along.

  “I hadn’t thought of that.” Angelique’s heart throbbed again with hope. “Who knows that you’ve discovered it?”

  “The ranger who found the information, Elle, my staff, and Stil and Gemma.” Severin cocked his head. “And now the two of you. We’ve kept it from other countries because we believed it was most important to give you priority access.” The prince hesitated, sliding his fingers across the width of his sword belt. “And we have not told any mages—not even Lord Enchanter Clovicus—due to Lady Enchantress Lovelana’s suspicions of a Chosen spy within the Conclave and their history of botched attempts at infiltrating Chosen dens.”

  Lovelana did say that was what made her suspect there is a mole in the Veneno Conclave—every operation she held against black mages, the locations were already cleared out.

  “If you’d like help, we’d be happy to provide it,” Severin said. “Just tell Elle what you need. Stil has already volunteered to produce any charms you should need.”

  Angelique released a shaky breath. “Thank you, Severin.”

  Severin bowed over his arm. “It is we who must thank you, Angelique, for all you have sacrificed for our cause. We will help you find Lord Enchanter Evariste. I promise.” He met her gaze with piercing amber eyes, then straightened. “But, unfortunately, I must deal with the goblins.”

  “Of course. The information alone is more than I ever hoped for,” Angelique said.

  Severin shook his head. “It’s not nearly enough. But in this case, I expect Elle would be a bigger help to you, regardless. She specialized in undercover work and intelligence gathering in her years as a ranger.”

  “I will be thankful for her expertise,” Angelique said.

  Severin nodded. “Good luck—and be safe.”

  “You as well.”

  Severin nodded, then strode across the courtyard, heading for a furry gray gelding a soldier was holding. He mounted up, inclined his head to Angelique and Quinn, and then was off, his horse trotting down the driveway.

  The troops started moving from their positions to follow Severin, turning the white lawn into a sea of movement. The clattering of wagons and the stamp of horse hooves on snow filled the air.

  Angelique and Quinn watched the impressive sight for a moment.

  “Lady Enchantress and Mademoiselle?” A maid curtseyed to them and indicated to the double doors. “If I may—would you like to be shown to your rooms first, or would you be more inclined to visit Madame Elle?”

  Angelique glanced at Quinn, trying to gauge just how road-weary the smiling soldier looked.

  Quinn caught her gaze and shook her head. “There’s no need to delay on my account,” she said. “Though the pace was unusually fast, I am used to long hauls as a soldier.”

  Angelique grinned. “Just what I was hoping for. We’d like to see Elle, please.”

  The maid bobbed a curtsey and led them into the chateau while two footmen closed the doors behind them.

  She led Quinn and Angelique to Severin’s private study.

  The door was wide open, and—familiar with the room—Angelique stepped inside without hesitation. Over the years, Angelique had seen it warp from something that was similar to a personal library into the office of a commander. The Loire maps had been swapped out for maps of the continent with colored tacks marking out the movement of the countries in the alliance, as well as the monster hordes the Chosen were moving around the continent with alarming speed.

  Wood was stacked high next to the fireplace, and three different hand mirrors were strewn across a massive desk that housed several geographical models of Erlauf.

  Elle was seated at a round end table that was so small, the tea caddy balanced on its surface was larger than the table.

  The Loire princess dropped a sugar cube in her tea and stirred it with a spoon as she glanced at the two guests seated at the end table with her—Gemma and Stil.

  Stil was a Grandmaster craftmage Angelique knew quite well—he was an orphan she and Evariste had tested for magic and then taken to Luxi-Domus, the Veneno Conclave academy of magic.

  Stil was something like a little brother to Angelique—though Evariste had always jokingly referred to him as their child—and was a genius at his magic.

  Gemma, his wife, was just as talented in her work—sewing. She produced the highest quality of sewn clothes and goods that Angelique had ever seen, which was particularly important for craftmages who could place stronger spells and charms on higher quality goods.

  Seemingly unaware of their arrival, Elle sipped her teacup, and then set it down. “Grandmaster Craftmage Stil, how much would a cloak similar to yours cost?”

  “My black one?” Stil puffed his chest in pride. “Why, it’s priceless considering Gemma made it for me.”

  Gemma—who appeared to be hemming a sash of some sort, probably something for the impending war that Stil would, in turn, enchant—didn’t even look up from her work. “I don’t think she’s talking about the cloak itself, but the spells.”

  “Yes.” Elle eagerly nodded. “As much as I would love a cloak made by Gemma’s hand, that’s not exactly possible given the great need we have for her work. I was actually thinking a subpar cloak with a few small enchantments. Nothing too big—maybe a heat charm, or a spell to cool the wearer off, an invisibility charm—small things!”

  Stil eyed the Loire Princess. “You just want that invisibility charm so you have an easier time slipping your guards.”

  “They have gotten aggravatingly good at tracking me down lately,” Elle acknowledged.

  “Can’t do it,” Stil said. “Severin would be mad—and don’t think I didn’t notice how you waited to ask until he was gone.”

  Elle casually tossed a small bag onto the tea tray. It clinked suspiciously like coins when it landed and nearly tossed a spoon into the air. “Are you certain?”

  “Weeeellll, those are small charms,” Still said. “It’s not like you’re asking for much.”

  “No,” Gemma said.

  “Why not?” Elle asked.

  Stil poked a corner of the coin pouch. “Yes, why not?”

  “Because I have great empathy for Prince Severin,” Gemma dryly said, “given whom I married.”

  Stil sputtered. “I beg your pardon! I do not go skidding around on castle roofs for fun like Madame Elle!”

  “No,” Gemma said. “You both just charge stupidly into fights and like to sacrifice yourselves in similar ways.”

  Elle fluttered her eyelashes and looked excessively innocent. “Why would you say that?” she asked. “It’s not lik
e we’re reckless or anything.”

  Gemma actually set her project on her lap and stared at Elle.

  Elle’s winning smile turned sheepish. “Ahahah.”

  “I’ll tell you why—it’s that we are over-burdened with an abundance of good ideas,” Stil declared.

  “Sometimes I wonder if I failed as a mentor because I was unable to stamp any lick of humility into you.” Angelique grinned as she approached them, skirting around a table that held drawings of the various monsters that plagued the continent.

  “Angelique!” Elle stood, her smile warm and sunny. “I’m so glad to see you—and your lovely companion must be Quinn of Midnight Lake?”

  Quinn saluted her as she had the princess’s husband. “I am.”

  “Quinn, please allow me to introduce you to Princess Elle of Loire, Grandmaster Craftmage Stil, and Gemma.” Angelique gestured to each person as she made the introductions.

  Quinn nodded to each of them in turn. “A pleasure,” she said. “Angelique told me much about you during our travels.”

  “All good things, I imagine.” Stil winked at Quinn as he stood up, reaching out to clasp Angelique’s hand in his.

  Angelique squeezed his fingers, then motioned for him to sit again. “We can make nice later—Severin told me about the Chosen stronghold.”

  Elle held a finger up. “Ahh, yes—I’ll tell you everything I know!” She marched over to Severin’s desk and shuffled through several maps before finding the one she was looking for. “Here we have it. It’s a moderate stronghold. One black mage runs the place—the ranger estimated he is probably a high-ranking mage. Not high enough to be sorcerer or a Grandmaster, but on rank with a master mage. He’s got no less than three mages serving under him at a time, and most of them are craftmages.”

  Angelique stared at the spot Elle tapped—a dot marked in northern Loire—before she finally realized what Elle had said. “Rogue craftmages?”

  “Not rogue.” Stil stood up and joined the trio at the desk. “Chosen-trained—they never set foot inside Luxi-Domus.”

  Quinn frowned. “How can they be craftmages without the proper schooling?”