The Girl Without Magic

by Megan O'Russell

  Maggie leaned her head back, resting it on the surface behind her. “I know you can understand me. Because I could understand you when you decided to attack my friend and me and knocked me out. I assume my friend is the one passed out behind me. It’s probably good he’s sleeping. I don’t think he’ll take being kidnapped very well, and I would hate for him to hurt you. Of course it’s probably rude of me to assume that you’re the asshole who decided to use magic on me to bring me here. Especially since I’ve been lecturing you on manners. But it’s hard to have a nice conversation with someone who won’t let you see them and won’t even answer your questions. I don’t even know what it is you think we’ve done that gives you the right to hold us like this. It must have been something bad―”

  A sharp guttural noise sounded from the corner.

  “Oh,” Maggie said. “You think we’ve done something very bad. You’re mad at us.”

  Something moved in the corner.

  Maggie held her breath for a moment, wondering if she had gone too far, waiting for another touch of a hand to knock her out. But nothing happened.

  “Whatever it is you think we’ve done, you’re wrong,” Maggie said. “We didn’t mean to end up here. We don’t even really know where here is. My friend caught a few fish, we climbed a mountain, slept there, came down, and then you caught us. Are any of those things why you’re mad? Are the fish sacred or something? Because we really didn’t know.”

  The person in the corner stayed silent.

  “So it wasn’t any of that,” Maggie said. “Then whatever you’re mad at us for, we didn’t do it. And if I have to wait here until you believe me, so be it. I doubt your plan is for me to die of starvation and dehydration if wherever it is we are requires us to be guarded. I mean, that would be a terrible waste of time and resources. So, since you’re planning to keep me alive, could I please have some water? Food would be great, too.”

  Nothing.

  “Okay fine,” Maggie said, “I’ll wait here until the guards change or your leader wants to talk to us or whatever. But I promise you, I’ll be much nicer about all of this than my friend. So you’d be better off explaining why you’ve kidnapped us before he wakes up, because after, well, ropes and bags on our heads or not, you’ll be in huge trouble.”

  The floor in the corner creaked, and footsteps moved around the room.

  “My name is Maggie by the way,” she said as the footsteps got further away. “Maggie Trent. I’m from Virginia in the United States of America on a world called Earth where our stars are very different from yours. I fell into the Siren’s Realm in a flash of green light. That’s where I met my friend Bertrand Wayland. He told me there were ways to fall back out of the Siren’s Realm into worlds I had never seen before. We did slip back out of the Siren’s Realm, and we landed here. I don’t know what this world is called, or why you’re so afraid of us. We’re only adventurers; we want to explore, not to hurt anyone. But if you try to hurt us, we will fight back. You may not believe me now, but you don’t want to fight me. Because I will win, and I will hurt you if you make me. So whoever it is you’re going to tell about the prisoner who won’t stop talking, make sure you mention that. We managed to find a way out of the Siren’s Realm. We can find a way out of this.”

  The footsteps moved away. The tone of them changed after a door closed. The ground where the person had gone was hollower, like a ramp. A ramp between rafts.

  “Bertrand,” Maggie whispered. “Bertrand Wayland, wake up.”

  The sound of steady breathing continued behind her.

  Maggie closed her eyes, listening carefully to everything around her, waiting for some new sound to tell her more about where she might be. Far away there were sounds of people. Faint conversations she had no hope of hearing. The bindings on her arms were warm. Warmer than her skin. Maggie twisted her hand so she could feel the rope. A faint tingle hummed in her fingers as soon as she touched it. The rope was laced with magic.

  “Bertrand,” Maggie whispered, knowing full well he couldn’t hear her. “Does this seem like a good time to risk a spell from home and hope it doesn’t go too badly wrong, or are we not that desperate yet? Didn’t think so.”

  Maggie sat waiting.

  “I really hate waiting. It’s the worst part of bad things happening. Because there isn’t anything you can do, you know? You just have to sit and wait for the world to come crashing down.”

  Footsteps echoed on the thin walk outside, more footsteps than had left before. Three different voices were conversing softly as they drew nearer.

  “Abeyla,” a man’s voice said, “if you had heard her, you wouldn’t doubt me. I don’t think they are Enlightened.”

  “Then how did they get here?” a woman asked.

  “She says they fell with a green flash of light,” the man said.

  “An Enlightened wouldn’t know about the Land Beneath,” a second man said.

  The door creaked open, and the sounds of footsteps stopped right in front of Maggie.

  A hand grazed the top of her head as the bag was pulled away.

  Maggie gulped in the fresh air, blinking in the dim light before looking at the people who stood above her. Two men stood on either side of a gray-haired woman. All three of them glared down at her.

  “She isn’t old enough to have been sent out by Jax,” the first man said. He was young, not much older than Maggie. Too young for the lines of worry that were etched around his eyes as he stared down at her. His tan face was framed by light blond hair, so pale it made his bright blue eyes look even more dazzling.

  “Wow,” Maggie breathed.

  The woman stepped forward. She was older with the same bright blue eyes as the boy and a terrifying scowl.

  “If Jax was assuming his spies would be killed then it would only make sense to send someone he hadn’t wasted training on,” the woman said.

  “But if they weren’t meant to survive then why send them at all?” the second man said. He appeared nearly as old as the woman, but his hair was still solidly black. “How would they report back?”

  “He could be assuming that if they don’t, we’ve killed them,” the woman said. “Then he would find us by default.”

  “That seems like a wasteful plan,” the first man said. “They could have been killed as easily by animals as by us. It’s a waste of life.”

  “Jax Cayde has never been concerned with the loss of life,” the second man said.

  “If it helps,” Maggie said, “I don’t actually know who this Jax dude is and have a strong resentment to being called cannon fodder.”

  The three of them stared at her for a moment.

  “Cannon fodder?” Maggie repeated. “You don’t have cannons? It means I don’t like the idea of being sacrificed… basically,” Maggie finished lamely.

  “Who are you?” the woman asked.

  “I already told the person who was in here.” Maggie looked at the younger man, whose neck tensed. “I told you.”

  “Maggie,” the man said. “She said her name was Maggie Trent.”

  “And what’s your name?” Maggie asked.

  “We will be the ones asking questions,” the woman said coldly, shooting a withering glare at the young man.

  “Sure.” Maggie shrugged. “I have nothing to hide, but I am hungry and thirsty, and my friend is probably dehydrated as hell. So how about we compromise? You give me some food and water, have someone check on my friend, and then I will happily tell you whatever you want to know.”

  The woman locked eyes with Maggie for a moment, appraising her.

  “Very well.” The woman turned to the young man. “Tammond, get the prisoners food and water. Lamil, take a look at the other one.”

  The blond boy, Tammond, gave a quick bow before opening the door and slipping outside. Through the dazzling sunlight, Maggie caught a glimpse of the lake outside before Abeyla closed the door sharply.

  “Bertrand Wayland,” Maggie said as Lamil, the black-haired man, moved beh
ind her. She twisted, but the bindings around her middle were too tight for her to see where he had gone. “My friend’s name is Bertrand Wayland.”

  “I thought you weren’t speaking until you were fed,” the woman said dryly.

  “Call it a show of good faith,” Maggie said. “But if you want information about this Jax person, you’ll be disappointed, because I’ve never even heard of her.”

  “Jax Cayde is a him,” the woman said. “And we all wish we had never heard his name. Perhaps you truly have been that fortunate.”

  The woman turned and walked out of the room, closing the door firmly behind her.

  Maggie looked around the room. It was made of roughly hewn wood with bamboo braced across the walls like rungs of a ladder. A tiny window sat atop each of the walls, filtering in dim light under the thatched roof. The thick wooden pole Maggie was tied to was the only thing in the room.

  Sounds of Lamil moving slowly came from behind Maggie, but she couldn’t see what he was doing.

  “Is he okay?” Maggie asked when Lamil had stopped moving for nearly a minute.

  “He’ll be fine,” Lamil said.

  “Thank you,” Maggie said, sagging back against the pole. “You might not believe me, but we really didn’t come here to spy on you.”

  “I’m not the one you should be worried about,” Lamil said. “Even spies whose masters don’t care if they die aren’t likely to keep a fire burning on a mountaintop in the middle of the night.”

  “You saw the fire,” Maggie said, feeling stupid for not having figured it out sooner. “That’s how you found us. How long were you following us in the woods?”

  “Long enough to know that, sent by the Enlightened or not, you and this Wayland could be a danger to us all.”

  “In that case, thank you even more for helping him.”

  “I do as Abeyla commands,” Lamil said before walking out the door.

  A brief view of the sparkling lake outside was all Maggie saw before the door slammed shut behind him.

  ertrand,” Maggie whispered. “Bertrand, wake up! Bertrand!” Maggie shouted.

  “For the goodness of the Siren, Miss Trent, please do not scream at me,” Bertrand muttered from his side of the pole.

  “You’re awake?” Maggie twisted fruitlessly, trying to see him.

  “Apparently so,” Bertrand said. “Have we been captured?”

  “No. I just thought getting tied up in a raft hut would be a great thing to add to our adventure,” Maggie growled.

  “Sarcasm is not becoming when the person you’re speaking to has a terrible headache.”

  “I’m sorry your head hurts.” Maggie took a deep breath, willing herself not to scream just to make Bertrand’s head pound. “But we’ve been kidnapped. They think we’re spies from some guy named Jax. I told them we aren’t even from this world so I don’t know what they’re talking about.”

  “And how did they take that bit of information?”

  “They didn’t kill us, and I made them agree to feed us before we’d answer more questions.”

  “Interesting,” Bertrand said, and Maggie could almost hear his forehead wrinkling as he thought. “That would definitely give the impression that we have, in fact, been captured by the good guys.”

  “Why? Cause they used magic rope to tie us to a pole instead of just beating the answers out of us?”

  “Because hunger is an excellent tool when trying to persuade someone to give up their secrets. It implies they really don’t want to hurt us.” Bertrand paused. “Or they intend to hurt us so badly hunger will no longer matter.”

  “You’re right,” Maggie said through clenched teeth. “We’re definitely being held by the good guys. Is this a normal part of what you do?”

  “I mean, I cannot say it hasn’t happened before,” Bertrand said in a tone so calm Maggie wanted nothing more than to reach around the pole and shake him, “but every world is different. I’ve been declared a god twice, king four times. Imprisonment is sometimes easier than being declared ruler. It’s so much harder to slip away when people are trying to protect you.”

  “You have got to be kidding me.”

  “Oh no. There were statues and everything.”

  Before Maggie could contemplate the horror of people worshiping a statue of Bertrand Wayland, the door had swung back open.

  The man called Tammond entered, carrying a bucket of water with one hand and balancing a tray of food with the other.

  “Who’s come in?” Bertrand asked.

  “Tammond,” Maggie sighed, only realizing her tone once the word was said and instantly hating herself for it. “Tammond,” Maggie said again, this time hiding the fact that his dazzling blue eyes were making it hard for her to breathe, “is the one who agreed to bring us food before we answer questions.”

  “Ah good,” Bertrand said. “Wonderful to meet you, Tammond. My name is Bertrand Wayland. As I assume Maggie has told you, whether or not the disclosure was wise we have yet to see, we are not of your world. We slipped here from a different realm. The Siren’s Realm. Perhaps your people have a legend about such a place. Pure delight and endless joy?”

  “I am here to bring you food,” Tammond said, “not to discuss the Land Beneath.”

  “The Land Beneath?” Bertrand said. “Ah, fascinating.”

  “Thank you for the food,” Maggie said, leaning forward to look at the tray as Tammond set it on the ground. Neither of the men seemed to notice.

  “And who is it you’re fighting here?” Bertrand asked.

  “I already told you,” Maggie said. “Some bad guy named Jax.”

  “Abeyla will speak to you once you’ve eaten,” Tammond said.

  “Is Abelya in charge here?” Bertrand asked.

  “Abeyla is the leader of the Wanderers.”

  Tammond set a carved, wooden plate of food down on Maggie’s lap just within reach of her fingers.

  “Okay.” Maggie managed to get a piece of pink fruit covered in soft spikes in her hands.

  “The Wanderers,” Bertrand repeated as Tammond made his way to the other side of the pole. “That’s you. And Jax’s people are?”

  “Are you sure you don’t already know?”

  “Oh yes, quite sure,” Bertrand said cheerfully. “But I do think it wise to stay abreast of local politics when one is being held prisoner.”

  Bending her head as far down as she could, Maggie raised the fruit to her mouth. The skin was thick and didn’t have a real taste. But the meat inside the fruit was amazing. Juicy and sweet, lighter than air in her mouth. She let out a little moan.

  “Miss Trent, are you all right?” Bertrand said sharply as Tammond’s head peered around her side of the pole.

  “I’m fine,” Maggie said, wiping the juice from her chin. “It’s just really good food, and I was really hungry.”

  Tammond smiled, and for a moment Maggie forgot to breathe.

  “I’m glad you enjoy it,” Tammond said, lifting the bucket of water for Maggie to drink.

  His fingers grazed her face, and he froze, a faint bit of pink creeping into his perfect cheeks. “You should drink, Maggie.”

  The water was cool and had a faint hint of earth. This water had not been created by magic.

  “What’s the fruit called?” Maggie asked.

  “Fire fruit.” Tammond moved to the other side of the pole with the bucket.

  “Why fire fruit?” Maggie asked, hoping he would look back around to her side of the pole.

  He did, giving Maggie an intrigued look.

  “You really don’t have it where you come from?”

  “Nope.” Maggie shook her head before taking another heavenly bite.

  “The trees the fruit grow on, the leaves turn red. When they are as bright as fire, the fruit is ripe.”

  “Fascinating,” Bertrand said in a tone that clearly said fruit was the least of his concerns. “But I think knowing who we are accused of spying for would be a much more interesting topic of discussion.�
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  “I’ll tell Abeyla you’re ready for her,” Tammond said, giving Maggie one last drink of water before leaving the hut.

  “Well, Miss Trent, I suppose I should be grateful.”

  “That I convinced them to feed us instead of kill us? Yep, I’ll take that gratitude.” Maggie stared at the door, willing Tammond to come back in and look at her with his unnaturally bright blue eyes. It was at the same moment that she realized she was willing her sexy captor to come back that self-loathing set in and Bertrand spoke.

  “No, I doubt they would have killed us. Having brought us all the way here, they would have wanted to speak to us both before resorting to murder. I am speaking of your affinity for the blond boy. I must admit when deciding to allow you to travel with me, I was concerned you might decide you had feelings for me, and I’m afraid that would be impossible.”

  “What?” Maggie coughed through her mouthful of thick, seedy bread.

  “I’m not one to be tied down, Miss Trent. Not to a place or a person. Adding to that the fact you are several centuries younger than me in experience if not in appearance, I hope you can see how impossible an arrangement that would become. And I am glad you moved on so quickly.”

  “You’re right,” Maggie said mockingly. “I’m really good at moving on.”

  “I’m so glad,” Bertrand said sincerely. “But do be careful not to become too attached to the locals. It becomes difficult upon departure, and you can never be too sure what their local laws of modesty might be.”

  “Girls trying to marry you in all the realms, huh?” Maggie laughed.

  “You haven’t any idea, Miss Trent. I am so glad I don’t have to worry about that with you.”

  “Happy to help.”

  They sat in silence. The longer Maggie listened, the farther away some of the sounds seemed to be coming from. Voices that had shouted to each other earlier were now barely loud enough for her to hear.

  Footsteps came up the thin ramp, and Abeyla’s voice murmured to someone.

  Lamil was the first in the door, then Abeyla. Maggie’s heart sank when Tammond didn’t reappear. She rolled her eyes at her own stupidity as Abeyla began to speak.