Prison of Supernatural Magic

by Laynie Bynum

  They weren't raiders. They were terrifyingly worse. Those mounted monsters were coming for dinner. For the children. And their victims didn't even know what was coming for them.

  He leapt from his spot, rushing the nearest child, and tried to grab the girl.

  She chased a butterfly, though, and it turned suddenly. She pivoted to follow it, and Onen missed her by an inch.

  Again, and again, he tried to snatch up children. He had to shake them up, somehow. They had to learn of the danger, and he was the only one who could protect them, or even warn them. But how? They couldn't be caught, not by him.

  Desperate, he screamed for them to stop, his voice ringing with the fear that fueled it, but the children kept running and skipping and spinning all across the field. Their doom was coming for them, and he couldn't do a thing about it. It made no sense, unless the chamber itself had been sabotaging his attempts.

  Onen had only one way to save the kids from an even worse fate, being eaten alive, thanks to the chamber keepers who prevented him from just grabbing the kids and whisking them away. His stomach flipped over and bile rose up in his throat as he thought about his only option.

  He turned suddenly, away from the monsters coming, and raised both arms up as he closed his eyes. Sight and sound weren’t his only senses...

  There it was! The wind above, the only energy he sensed that was powerful enough to tap into.

  As he continued siphoning the storm’s raw energy into himself, the clouds slowed, then went still. And yet, he still didn't have enough to pull the children one by one toward him. Such fine control used far more magic than merfolk destruction did.

  He glanced up again, hoping that draining the storm would destroy the giants, too. It had faded almost to nothing, but the monstrous giants still came. If anything, they moved faster without the storm blowing in their faces.

  Over the crashing of giant hooves and whinnying horses, he heard a horrid sound. He listened carefully, looking. That’ when he saw children—other children—in the monsters' teeth. They were still alive, and crying. Soon, the kids running around him would join their fellows, trapped inside the monsters.

  No! He could stop it. He had the power to save them from a fate worse than death. He could take the lesser of two evils.

  Onen reached out with his willpower again, drawing energy from the clouds until they faded to nothing

  More power. He needed more.

  Pointing one palm toward the sky, Onen channeled a little energy from the natural wind. He aimed his other palm at a child and forced his will through it, trying to pluck the boy out of the field. If he could catch one, he could get them all, eventually.

  They stayed stubbornly out of reach, however, no matter how hard he concentrated. He still didn't have enough magic. There was only one other great source nearby for him to use—the forest surrounding the grandfather oak. The small, furry animals that lived there. The insects that turned and aerated the soil beneath him. He drained them all, using every bit of willpower he had to gather it quickly.

  Around him, the beautiful scene browned up, withered away, or turned to dust to feed his awful need, but it still wasn’t enough. If he attempted his true plan yet, he'd have to leave a third of the children behind. He sent out his will again, seeking the oldest ones. He’d have to leave them there to suffer.

  No! There was one other way. It stained his spirit to think of it, and the weight of guilt from the merfolk thought crushed his heart, but it would save every child from being the giants’ next meal.

  Onen reached both hands toward the grandfather oak, rage and guilt churning his stomach in equal measure.

  In his mind's eye, the power contained in that one tree almost seemed to make it glow. It had been alive so long and the fantastical tree's life energy flowed into his hand.

  Damn the monsters, and the chamber, and damn himself for what he was doing.

  It shuddered, branches creaking. Then, the verdant leaves yellowed, browned, and fell. One landed on his arm.

  In moments, he’d completely drained the tree’s life energy, and with eyes welling over, he watched the passing of something great being taken from the world. The result would justify the cost, though. He could save the children from one of the worst fates imaginable. He could pick the lesser of two evils.

  The fire in Onen’s belly fueled him, and he let out his guilt and rage in a roar as he moved both hands to his right, toward the monsters. Then, with one act of terrible will, the power came out in a single pulse of crackling energy that shone bright lavender—good and evil, rage and sadness—as he swept his arms across in the other direction, unleashing the vast pool of magic stored within him. The bright pulse of energy, too, was swept aside, following his gesture, conforming to his will. The churning wave crashed into the giants and their mounts, and they tumbled in a tsunami of flying hooves and fists and faces that showed only fear, replacing the glee and hunger of before. It was absolutely perfect, and Onen sneered at them as they catapulted and bounced and rolled forward.

  With them came ashes, leaves, grasses and soil—everything down to the bedrock. Flying rocks dinged his armor and dust clung to it. He didn’t care. He had to focus...

  The wave hit the grandfather oak, and its withered, drained form disintegrated into a cloud of sawdust that instantly blew apart.

  And then, at the most terrible, final moment, the children too were swept up into the maelstrom, still singing and skipping and chasing the butterflies that were blown away with them.

  Onen’s barely-controlled wave of power, with everything and everyone in it, flew over the bluff. It seemed to hover for a moment before it all plunged—

  Suddenly, he was back in that hated chamber. He looked around, dazed at the sudden shift, but all that remained of the horror he'd just committed was its memory. Vertigo swept over him, and he staggered a bit, but the feeling left quickly. Standing tall again, Onen roared, "Master of this room, I swear on all creation that I'll find you. When I do—"

  "Please look at the wall facing you to continue your test." The voice was passive, uncaring, and then it was eerily silent again.

  Onen took a few steps, turned around, then went back. Pacing, he clenched and opened his fists. The arrogance! The librarian, or whoever was behind the walls, had dared to subject him to that without even a warning.

  Well, he would be ready for the next damnable trip. He'd win again, too, but being prepared, his next victory wouldn't be so costly.

  Deep inside, though, an ember of fear burned cold. What if the next step required an even worse choice?

  The far wall lit up with an image so precise and clear that Onen thought it was a window at first. Was that where he was going? He examined the image.

  Brown-clad soldiers appeared, marching through a city street. A mob lined the road on both sides, cheering and throwing flowers. None of the figures moved, however. They might as well have been frozen in time. Even the leaves blowing across the foreground were frozen in place.

  "What is this magic? First you forced me to choose between killing children or leaving them to a worse fate, and now you show me this? Those are Dag'draath soldiers. What city is that?"

  The image changed, but before he could figure out what it now showed, it was replaced by another image. And another. One after the next, dozens of images appeared and then were swept aside. They showed soldiers in battle—sometimes his, sometimes those of Dag'draath—but none stayed up long enough to get more than that impression.

  None, at least, until one image appeared on the wall and stayed, startling him. The first thing he noticed was that it showed the wings of magnificent high dragons flying near a colorful vortex. Beautiful, loyal, and brave, dragons were some of the world's most amazing creatures, and he loved them.

  Like everything else, it was painted in such perfect clarity that he almost reached out to touch them. They looked small, though. Baby dragons? He examined the image carefully, and then saw that these dragons weren’t babies
at all. They dwarfed the black-clad warrior with one carried in its claws, a figure he hadn’t noticed at first. He had to squint to be sure, but the armor, the emblem on his shield... it was Dag'draath himself.

  Onen's first reaction was a savage joy. His dragons had their wings half-folded back, so they had to be moving fast, and they were taking the enemy into some magical entrapment. A sign of his success to come? It had to be. He couldn’t contain himself, and roared for his coming victory.

  But then he realized that many of the other dragons showed cuts in their wings. The one carrying Dag’draath folded its wings at a different angle. It dove at the enemy. Dag’draath had apparently fought his way free of them for a moment, and it was taking all those dragons to keep him in the air and moving toward the vortex.

  Onen cocked his head, and then felt a dawning horror as he realized that, at those speeds, there was no way the dragons could pull up in time. They'd be going into the vortex, too, like one giant comet.

  The realization brought a wave of fear and sadness that churned Onen's stomach. His dragons would go with the enemy...

  But this meant they could do it. He could trap the enemy away, at the price of his dragons.

  Was that the answer to his question? It had to be. He'd passed the test, and now they were giving him his answer. He’d get the details, then he could march his army and prepare the trap—

  The voice in his head returned, each word spoken slowly and drawn out, yet without any hint of emotion: "Onen Suun, you have failed the test."

  His jaw dropped. “How could I have failed? I saved those children from a far worse fate, and my dragons, they won. They can take our enemy away, hurling him into a trap.”

  "You'll never understand.”

  Never understand? What was there to get about it? “Both times, we won!"

  “We will not explain. You may leave the chamber at any time."

  And then, the voice disappeared. Not just silent but gone.

  No.

  He could not have come so close, only to be told he, Onen Suun, had failed the test. It shouldn't be possible. He'd saved the kids. His dragons had caught the greatest villain in the world. And what about those other pictures? They’d gone by too fast to make out details.

  Or was this chamber somehow opposed to his mission? After all, even he didn't know who created the Obelisk, and it had just withheld the information he needed to save all of Iynia, despite his victory in both illusions.

  One thing good had come of this trip, however. The chamber's masters had revealed to him that a way did exist. He would succeed in making a trap that could contain even Dag'draath, and so save the world.

  All Onen had to do was to find it.

  Chapter Five

  Y'serra smiled and put together a small platter of meats, cheeses, fruits, and breads. “Rest your feet, Onen. Are you hungry? You must be, after traveling so far. How terrifying to be up so high, especially when someone else is the captain."

  Onen couldn't help smiling back. Her vitality and beauty were only half her charms. She was also a healer and nurturer by nature. With her, he didn't have to be Mighty Onen Suun. He could just be Onen, without her thinking less of him for it. She would never leave him the way Savarah had.

  He had to fight the impulse to help her with the platter. In the field, he fed himself without tasking soldiers to do it for him. He was his own man.

  Here, though, Y'serra would give him a tongue-lashing if he tried.

  Instead, he sat down on a wide chair, big enough for three people. He took the weight off his feet, the welcome tingles in his legs and feet feeling amazing. "Ahh... That is so good. I could eat a horse."

  That was only a slight exaggeration.

  "It's not your fault, you know." She walked around from the cart to stand between him and the windows, and held out a tray laden with food.

  The sunlight streaming in almost made her seem to glow as it bounced off the white fabric of her long skirt and tunic, and near-golden where it struck her long, straw-colored hair that cascaded over her shoulders, pretty as a waterfall.

  "Thanks, both for the food and the company.” He meant it. He wanted to say more, but his growling stomach was in charge, and he started in on the tray’s array of food.

  While he ate, she tried to make him laugh—and often succeeded—with jokes she'd heard recently. It was sort of a tradition between them, by now.

  At first, he'd been surprised how welcome a simple routine like that could be, but these days, whenever he left to deal with the war's demands, he couldn't wait to spend that time with her again. It was probably the best part about coming home, actually. Not that he’d ever known what “home” was before.

  Once he finished eating, however, he found Y'serra looking through his travel sack.

  He coughed once.

  She jumped in surprise, laughing. "You scared the spirit right out of me. We should tie a bell around you." Her eyes sparkled with mirth.

  "Not a bad idea. It'll let my enemies know it's me so they can all run away in fear."

  Her smile faded.

  Damn. That wasn’t the reaction he’d expected. He changed the subject. "What are you looking for, anyway?"

  Actually, that was a very good question. She'd never unpacked his travel bag before. He kept his expression cheery.

  She closed the bag and set it aside. "Anything that needs cleaning before the war calls you again, Suun-y. Speaking of the war..."

  Onen fought the urge to snatch the bag and check its contents, but at the same time, he struggled to get his mind around her odd reaction. Something strange was going on, though he couldn’t yet figure out what. "Yeah? You can ask anything you like. I'll even give you an answer," he said, covering his confusion with a broad smile.

  "Why don't you ask Savarah to forge a few new pacts? You could rebuild your armies faster if you had more allies." She peered at him intently.

  Her question had more than one layer. He let out a sigh. He’d hoped to get away with simply avoiding the subject, but he wouldn't lie to her, either. "I already asked her."

  "Oh? That's fantastic. Problem solved, right? Now we can take a couple days down at the seashore."

  If only she were right. He pursed his lips and shook his head. "It didn't work out. She won't be helping us."

  Y'serra took a step back, one hand going to her mouth. When she took her hand away, she clenched her jaw. "What do you mean, ‘she said no’? She can't say no. All this other stuff between you two has nothing to do with the war."

  "It seems that, even though she went off and started spending her time with someone else, she's furious now that I've done the same. I don’t know how she can blame me for finding you, but I think she'll come to her senses, eventually."

  Y'serra shifted in the chair and put her legs over his lap. It was a big chair, and perfect for that. "If Savarah was going to help, it doesn't do us or her any good to wait. You said this war would end soon, one way or the other, right?" She spoke carefully, as though picking her words one at a time.

  Onen nodded. How had things ever come to such a plight? How had he, of all people, come so close to defeat? And not just once, but several times. At this rate, it would end soon all right. Just not how they both had hoped. "Yes. It'll end soon. She still has time to come to her senses."

  Y'serra crossed her arms and leaned back against the chair arm, leaving her legs over his. She dropped her gaze, staring at her fingers as she laced them together on her lap. "Think about this. What if she didn't just leave your side, but then she went to someone else’s? If she's angry enough, getting back at you might seem great. How better to do that than to help the one who’s destroying all you built?"

  "I still don’t really understand why she’s angry in the first place. Do you really think she’d join Dag'draath?" No way. It was impossible. Wasn't it?

  "I don't know if she would, and that's the problem. There was a time when I wouldn’t have imagined it, but now? I'm sure you'll say we can't yet
know the answer."

  “Yeah.”Even he thought he sounded unconvinced, though. It might have been impossible to know for sure, yet, but it was pretty easy to take a guess.

  He hadn't thought of it before, hadn't wanted to look at the possibility, but why else would Savarah have refused to help? And not just to help him, but everyone opposing Dag'Draath. The Savarah he’d known and loved would have helped in spite of any imagined grudges she had against him and Y'serra, especially after seeing the sorry state of Onen’s army. It was the right thing to do.

  Y’serra cocked her head to one side, frowning. “Is ‘yeah’ all you have to say? You can do better than that.” She smiled, eyes beaming. “Tell me what you really think. I can take it.”

  "You’re right. We can't know. We only know that she stepped out of her role in this war. But conversations like this one and the war in general are making me believe the worst in people. So many have joined the enemy, and it makes no sense to me. So, why not her, too?”

  "Well," Y'serra said, perking up, uncrossing her arms, and leaning against the chair arm on her elbows, "you'll figure it out. You always do. I hope your trip to the Library went better. What were you looking for?"

  Onen quickly recovered from his surprise. She never asked questions about such details, only how the war was going in more general terms. Not that it mattered, since he had failed his test. "It doesn’t matter. I didn’t find it. I only wanted to bring peace to the world, but I think the Library never had anything that could help me in the first place."

  Why was she asking all these questions? The image of her going through his bags flashed into his mind.

  Bah, he was only being paranoid. That was what he was becoming—a paranoid warlord. The war was changing him in ways he didn't like at all. It could explain why the Library failed him, actually.

  Well, once this war ended, as every war eventually did, he and Y'serra could leave all this behind and head across the seas to start a new life for themselves. That was a pleasant thought. With enough time, and peace, Y’serra could bring him back to being the man he used to be, if anyone could.