Trial of Magic

by K. M. Shea

  “Shine brighter still!” Emboldened, Angelique took a few steps forward as the crystals’ light grew in intensity.

  Behind her, Snow White timidly said, “Shine?”

  Angelique laughed as she shoved a crystal in a construct’s face. The construct fell as it scrambled to get away from her.

  Of course black magic would react negatively to light—this is wonderful!

  Angelique stood in the cottage door as the warriors finished off the remaining constructs that had gotten inside—most of them were writhing on the floor or clawing at their eyes as they were trapped between Angelique’s armload of crystals and the bright fire.

  “How much brighter do these get?” Snow White asked.

  Angelique tried to shift her arms without dropping her starfires. “At least another level or two. Why?”

  Snow White glanced from the crystals she cradled in her fingers to the door. “Come on!” She fearlessly darted outside, Angelique behind her.

  She wasn’t too surprised by the writhing mass of constructs that filled the lawn—she’d felt it inside the cottage. But it was one thing to feel their presence and quite another to see the dozens—possibly hundreds—of glowing white eyeballs and gleaming teeth in the cold night.

  Their skeletal shapes were barely visible in the soft light of the moon that reflected off the snow, giving the shadows an even more ghostly appearance. When all of those constructs saw Snow White, they lunged forward—gnashing their teeth and swiping their claws at her.

  Snow White inched closer to Aldelbert and Gregori—who were back-to-back and pinned against the cottage’s outer wall. She squared her shoulders, then held a crystal aloft, making the closest constructs jerk to a stop, spin around, and uselessly attempt to claw through their brethren to escape the light.

  Angelique watched and shifted her armload of crystals. “What now?”

  I have a guess…but I want the warriors to see what Snow White is capable of.

  Snow White sucked in a deep breath. “Shine!”

  Snow White’s crystals burned bright white—which was reflected by the white snow and made the area glow brighter. She flung the starfires into the mass of constructs—which inspired terror in those closest to the crystals.

  Some of the constructs faded away—they didn’t even turn into smoke; they just disappeared as if swallowed whole by the light. The rest of the constructs collided as they tried to flee, and those at the back of the clearing continued to march forward, unaware of the other constructs’ terror.

  What are these things? They’re reactive, but they’re definitely moving under someone’s orders…

  Angelique grabbed a couple of starfires. “I get it—shine!” Angelique threw fistfuls of starfires, scattering them across the clearing, making the constructs shriek and retreat as the crystals—reflected by the snow—made the area as bright as day.

  The warriors that had stayed in the house to clean it of constructs came bursting out and launched themselves on the hapless sea of constructs.

  “My Lord!” Wendal pulled several daggers from his belt in a smooth movement that made Angelique suspect he had a belt pouch that was enchanted like her satchel to hold more than it should.

  “Wendal—you’re just in time!” Aldelbert laughed. “Come, let us drive them away!”

  Together, the Seven Warriors formed a crescent shape and cleaved their way through the constructs.

  Puffs of smoke filled the meadow in a thick veil, but Angelique felt the constructs’ slight magical presence ease away as they fled. They skulked their way back to the shadows of the forest—or the surviving ones did, anyway. Those that stepped too close to the brilliant light of the starfires evaporated, and the warriors were fast and skilled, falling on the constructs with an admirable ferocity Angelique had to applaud.

  The few constructs that made it to the trees faded into the darkness, disappearing—though not before they leveled their creepy eyes at Snow White and gnashed their teeth at her.

  She may not be cursed, but something is definitely after her.

  The Seven Warriors completed their sweep, eliminating the last of the constructs that the crystals didn’t destroy.

  Marzell picked a starfire out of the snow and threw it into the trees. It landed in a little mound of snow, illuminating the hidden shadows of the trees to show nothing was there.

  “They’re gone.” Marzell collapsed to his knees.

  “Finally,” Gregori agreed. In the light of the starfires, his red hair seemed almost as brilliant as a fire as he patrolled the perimeter with Aldelbert.

  Angelique twitched her nose—the smoke of destroyed constructs was mostly odorless, but it had a metallic tang to it that she didn’t like.

  She peered at Snow White, wondering how the princess was going to handle the knowledge she’d been hunted by black magic.

  To her credit, shy, book-worm Snow White took in a big gulp of air and—with her face pinched with fear—took a few steps closer to the warriors.

  “You can no longer deny something dark is at work. A-Angel said those were magic constructs. That means someone with magic is involved in this—not just goblins and monsters.” Snow White’s voice was fairly strong, but she was still too quiet—the rowdy warriors wouldn’t hear her.

  She needs to be the one to convince them, but I just can’t throw her out to sea like this and expect her to swim.

  Plus, if Angelique was being honest, there was something warm and bright in Snow White’s eyes that reminded her of Quinn.

  Angelique drifted closer to the princess and scratched her nose. “Speak louder,” she whispered to her.

  Snow White sucked in a deep breath, puffing her chest up ever so slightly. “Y-You said yourself that all the skirmishes and creatures are at the border. The ‘outskirts of civilization’ you claimed.” She pointed to the forest. “We are nowhere near the border. This was a deliberate attack. Clearly, I was the t-target,” Snow White stumbled over the last bit, and Angelique could see it in her eyes that she was aware just how bad that was.

  The warriors—satisfied with their patrols—meandered back to the cottage, silent and listening.

  “You also said the country is in a worse state than I knew,” Snow White continued. “You were correct, obviously. But after this, I-I think it’s safe to say it’s also worse than you knew, for you have not seen the Queen and the pain she has borne while the rest of us were stupidly oblivious.” Hotly, with a passion that drove her to face the seven hulking warriors down, she added, “And Faina is not mad! If you still claim that is so, you are not the Seven Warriors you profess to be but are the seven idiots my ministers think you are!”

  Oswald snorted. “So, Princess Snow White does have claws.”

  “Just because she doesn’t mouth off like you does not mean she lacks the gumption necessary to be a leader.” Rupert inspected his wrist wound, which was shedding droplets of blood.

  Wendal glanced over at them as he retrieved some of his daggers from the snow. “No, but her inability to speak her mind was not encouraging.”

  Ahh, yes, she’s got them now, Angelique chortled to herself.

  Gregori thoughtfully proved her point when he spoke. “The Princess is right. This is the first clear sign we have that all of this is on purpose. Monsters and creatures could be written off as the state of the continent. A magical attack is a sign of more.” He narrowed his eyes and brushed the fletching of his crossbow bolts.

  Fritz lurked near Snow White. “Agreed.”

  Rupert peered up at the forester, his skin extra pale in the light of the starfires. “You agree with her, Fritz?”

  Fritz nodded.

  Gregori snorted and kicked a bit of snow. “Of course, he does—he figured out she was right before any of you retired to the loft for the night.”

  Oswald swiveled in his direction and scowled. “How do you know these things?”

  “I’m a merchant.”

  “Yeah, a merchant. Not a shady information-brok
er!”

  Gregori critically studied the cottage’s doorless doorway. “They are rather similar.”

  Aldelbert, surprisingly, turned to Fritz. “How did you know, my friend?”

  Fritz paused, and for several very long moments all the warriors were silent as they waited for his answer. “Gut feeling.”

  “You!” Oswald stomped a foot, scattering slush everywhere. “There was a whole story behind it, but you just shortened it because you’re too lazy to tell it!”

  “It’s long.”

  Oswald rested the flat of his sword on his shoulder. “Doesn’t matter—cough it up.”

  “Don’t bother if you don’t wish to, Fritz,” Rupert said. “Whatever the reason was that convinced you, Oswald is obviously too much of a dunce to catch it, or he would have believed Her Highness as well.”

  Predictably, Oswald scoffed at the dark-haired warrior. “You didn’t believe her either!”

  Rupert applied pressure to the wound on his wrist. “Perhaps.”

  “There was no ‘perhaps’ about it,” Oswald complained as Gregori and Wendal brought the broken door outside and lamented the torn hinges.

  Angelique flicked her eyes from the warriors working on the door to Marzell. He met her gaze, so she pointedly raised an eyebrow.

  He offered her a little bow and a smile, then faced his princess. “Your Highness,” he began. “I believe I owe you an apology. You are correct. There is obviously something stirring—and clearly magic is at work. And instead of listening, I behaved like the stubborn advisors I act against. Please, forgive me.” He bowed deeply.

  “Will you help me, then?” Snow White asked.

  Ahhh. That’s why I like her so much. Snow White—as noble as Quinn—ignored the apology and fixated on the thing she cared most about: saving Faina.

  Marzell placed his palm over his heart. “We Seven Warriors will do everything in our power to aid you.”

  “Thank you.” Snow White’s relief was almost palpable as she tottered for a step or two.

  All is well that ends well. But those constructs… Constructs aren’t easy to make, which means we’re dealing with a mage of great power.

  Fritz fidgeted at Snow White’s side. “Marzell.”

  “Hmm?”

  Fritz tilted his head at Oswald and Rupert—who were still bickering like children, but were now staggering a little as blood continued to drip from their wounds.

  “Oh, yes. Oswald, Rupert—inside! You, too, Aldelbert. It looks like you received a scratch or two in the kerfuffle.” Marzell motioned for his friends to follow him inside as he ducked through the open door.

  “I’m fine.” Oswald revealed how very not fine he was by obediently trailing after Marzell.

  Rupert awkwardly held his wrist in a way that wouldn’t jar it. “It doesn’t hurt,” he insisted.

  Angelique peered at Snow White as they followed the warriors inside. “Are you well? You weren’t hurt, were you?”

  “No, I’m fine,” Snow White said. “I was in less danger after you gave me some of your crystals—is it okay to leave them outside like that?” She peered back over her shoulder where the starfires still glowed.

  “They’re called starfires, and they’ll be fine,” Angel said. “I’ll collect them tomorrow morning—once the sun rises. I’d rather leave them where they are so they can serve as a defense for the rest of the night.”

  Snow White nodded. “A wise plan. Where did you get them?”

  “Oh, they’re a small thing craftmages make by the bucketload when they’re apprentices. I got these from a friend of mine—I promised him and his wife I would carry them around.” Angelique smiled fondly as she pictured the insistent Gemma and Stil.

  “Considering the size of your satchel, you had quite a few,” Snow White said.

  I say—sometimes she’s too sharp! “They’re smaller than they look,” Angelique said.

  Snow White looked unconvinced, but—thankfully—before she could say anything, Marzell interrupted them.

  “Angel, you’re an apprentice to an herb wizard, yes?”

  Under Marzell’s watchful eyes, Oswald and Rupert plopped down on a bench by the still-roaring fire without uttering a peep.

  Angelique, wholly unaware of the danger in her front, flashed Marzell her best smile. “Yep!”

  The lines in Marzell’s forehead relaxed. “Could you take a look at Oswald and Rupert, then? I don’t think Aldelbert’s scratches need anything besides being cleaned, but Rupert’s wrist and Oswald’s arm are a different matter.”

  “What?” Angelique dropped her smile—thankfully her shock was so strong, she was unable to let her jaw drop.

  “Their injuries.” Marzell gestured to the pair on the bench. “Surely you could use your herb magic to do something for them?”

  What do I do? What. Do. I. Do?

  Angelique was only vaguely aware of Fritz putting the furniture back into place. “No, no, I’m afraid not.” She slapped her thighs—where her overly-large tunic draped down and nearly covered her knees. “I haven’t learned much about herb healing.”

  Marzell frowned. “Isn’t herb healing the basis for an herb wizard’s career?”

  Angel blinked rapidly.

  Elle. We did a very poor job of picking this disguise!

  “To an extent,” Angelique said, inventing an answer that would best benefit her. “But we’re also taught how to use herbs for some basic charms, cleaning, hygiene—all of that.”

  Marzell smiled tiredly. “Even that would be helpful. We don’t want to risk either of them getting an infection.”

  Why did I say anything? I could have just said “So sorry, I can’t because I’m an idiot!” WHY?!

  “Yes. That would be bad,” Angelique said—because she couldn’t really say anything else.

  “You can use any of the herbs and supplies we have,” Marzell said. “I’ll boil some water and retrieve bandages and wraps for you.”

  Feeling the need to cover for herself in advance, Angelique cleared her throat. “I need to repeat: I don’t know very much.”

  “Nonsense,” Aldelbert said. “Your satchel is draped with herbs. Surely you must know enough if you practice such a custom as that.”

  ELLE! Why did you make me take those?! This is officially the worst cover I’ve ever taken—and that includes the time those sisters in Baris nearly made my bladder explode when Evariste was teaching me how to grant boons!

  “Yes. Yes, I do carry herbs around because I know how to use them. What I meant is that I always frustrated my master because I was so bad at it. Really, as a forester, I imagine Fritz might be better at dressing wounds,” Angelique tried to look pitiful.

  “Angel,” Snow White said. “You don’t need to apologize. Oswald and Rupert will be thankful for whatever you can do.” Snow White smiled, her warmth shining through before she glanced worriedly at the warriors.

  Angel pressed her lips into a thin line. Oh, now that’s just mean—breaking out empathy with such kind eyes? Unfair! “Uh-huh.”

  Marzell passed by and paused just long enough to touch her on the shoulder. “Thank you—from all of us.”

  “Yeah, sure,” Angelique glanced at the injured men, and her conscience finally prickled. Neither Oswald nor Rupert was looking particularly well.

  They probably do need a healing spell. How can I stick one on them without anyone noticing—including them?

  Marzell was watching her expectantly, so Angelique reluctantly fussed with her bespelled satchel and pulled off (at random) an herb with thin, flat leaves.

  The Seven Warriors had herbs hanging from the rafters, so Angelique randomly selected one and yanked it off the string it hung from.

  Marzell hustled upstairs; Fritz began to work on the door, and Snow White found a broom and started sweeping slushy snow out of the cottage.

  Now’s the time to do something—while they’re all occupied.

  “Go over to the benches by the table and lie flat,” Angelique inst
ructed the injured pair.

  Oswald and Rupert slumped their way over to the benches with enough lethargy to alarm Angelique.

  Yes, they require a slow-burn healing spell. I’ll just have to disguise it—or maybe obscure their vision.

  Angelique, not quite certain what she was doing, yanked the needle-like leaves off the herb she’d taken from her satchel.

  With Rupert watching her, she took the time to rub the leaves together—filling the cottage with their fragrant scent—and made a few hand gestures at the herbs.

  I was an idiot for agreeing to this cover. I’ve only seen an herb wizard the one time one came to speak to my class when I was a first-year student! And how long ago was that?

  She glanced over at Oswald, who was holding his arm at an odd angle so he didn’t drip blood on the floor.

  Longer than they’ve been alive, that much is for certain. She barely managed to smother a shiver. And now I feel ancient—but I should be able to fool a couple of mere children!

  “What are you doing?” Rupert—one of the “mere children” asked.

  “Magic,” Angelique said.

  A frown puckered at the corners of Rupert’s mouth. “Are you certain?”

  Some unfortunately smart, mere children.

  “Who is the herb wizard’s apprentice? Me. Unless you gained instruction somewhere between the fireplace and this bench, shut your pie hole.” She picked up the herb she’d retrieved from the rafters, pulled a trickle of her magic, and then started smacking Rupert in the face with it. The assault of the herb’s tiny, fringe-like leaves achieved the desired affect and made him squeeze his eyes shut.

  “Is this necessary?” he grumbled.

  “Absolutely!”

  A dusting of Angelique’s silver magic pooled at her fingertips as she hastily picked up more of the thin leaves from her satchel-herb and rubbed them on Rupert’s wrist.

  It’s a good thing I’ve gotten so much practice at placing healing spells on myself.

  Angelique rubbed Rupert’s wrist with the satchel herb, smacked him in the face with the rafter herb with a little more enthusiasm than necessary, and whispered under her breath as she twined the healing spell around his wrist.

  She tried to appear relaxed and casual, but in reality, she was watching his wrist with the eye of an eagle, making sure she covered every silvery thread of her magic so it wouldn’t be visible to anyone that happened to glance over.