Peering through the gate, Algernon wondered why they kept it locked.
He used the key and pushed open the gate. The hinges squealed loud enough to hurt his ears.
Algernon used his magic to create a globe of soft light over his palm.
Other uses of his power always seemed to go wrong, but he’d learned to command this one thing without fail.
Taking slow, careful steps, he pressed past the gate and left it open.
Iron beams supported an open doorway at the end of the short passage. Beyond it, gray dirt covered the ground. The path turned right and left with carvings on the wall in front of him.
To either side, the walls boasted three rows of empty niches from floor to ceiling, each big enough to hold a single person. Algernon paused at the carvings and held the light to examine them.
The carvings reminded him of his native tongue, Cascaini, but he only recognized the simple words. Later, he’d see if someone had already transcribed and translated the text. Not that he needed to read it.
Satiuz Braylen had asked him to fetch a magic bone, not study the catacomb.
He picked left for no particular reason and followed the corridor, careful to touch nothing but the floor. Six niches down, he turned the first corner and discovered niches in the center block as well as the outer wall.
The chamber wound him through a repeating U-shape. Several turns into the catacomb, he discovered his first remains.
Unlike the fresh bodies he’d left inside his now-destroyed home, these had reduced to skeletons.
No, he would not think about those dead people. He had these dead people to worry about.
The bones lay bare with no cloth or ornament. Wispy piles of hair surrounded some skulls. He noticed several skulls lay at a strange angle, suggesting beheading either before or after death. Silvery spider webs fluttered as he passed with no sign of their owners.
Algernon suspected all the bugs had come and gone long ago.
Satiuz Braylen had, of course, sent him to collect a bone, not to gawk at skeletons.
He paused to gather his wits and focus his will. Whenever he spun magic without taking this time, it flew out of his control.
With a careful, considered flex of his power, he shifted his perception.
The globe of light hovering over his palm suddenly smelled of apples. When he invoked this sense, his magic always carried that scent. His mother’s stank of brimstone and his father’s had a soothing sandalwood aroma.
Grandma Katona’s magic smelled like her favorite mint tea.
Closing his eyes, he blocked out the smell of his magic and sniffed the air. Nothing yet.
He opened his eyes and headed deeper.
As far as he could tell with a casual glance, every skeleton he passed had all the bones in place. He had no idea how to tell anything about them. Other than varying heights, they all looked the same to him.
Turning yet another corner, he noticed a hint of sweetness in the air. As he closed the distance, the sweetness grew cloying and damp, like someone with a sugar-coated mouth breathed down his neck.
He grimaced and kept moving.
Old, dry things crackled like crumpling paper.
Algernon froze at the sound. Had it come from behind him?
No, of course not. He hadn’t passed anyone or anything alive. Noise in a place like this would echo from every surface.
Not that he should hear anything in a basement full of old bones.
Maybe his passage had disturbed a delicate arrangement.
Eager to finish his task and escape the expansive tomb, Algernon hurried to find the source of the stench.
In the distance, something moaned. A slip of wind might have reached the chamber.
Another smell slithered under the sickly sweetness. This one reminded him of smoke from a fireplace.
Watching everywhere at once, Algernon stopped where the first scent led him. The middle niche and its skeleton seemed the same as all the others. Its skull lay on its side, facing away from the body.
He stuck his hand into the niche over the bones and ran it over the skeleton.
The smoke scent grew in strength as if it approached him.
Wood creaked.
Algernon hadn’t seen any wood in the catacombs.
A breeze ruffled his hair and clothes.
Something clicked nearby.
When his fingers twitched over a floating rib lying across the spine vertebrae, Algernon snatched it and ran. He let go of his power, cutting off the scents.
His shoes kicked up dust. He coughed and didn’t stop.
When he reached the gate again, he dashed through and slammed it shut. The iron clanged with finality. All the other noises stopped.
Panting to catch his breath, he snuffed the light and stared into the darkness of the catacombs. He swiped his sleeve over his mouth and nose, wiping away dust and dirt.
He wanted to believe he’d imagined the errant noises. The smoke smell had come from another source of magic. On this side of the gate, that seemed reasonable. If one bone had magic, others could too.
In truth, he’d expected to find multiple sources of magic.
Another time, armed with some kind of makeshift weapon to bolster his courage, he might return to find them.
As soon as he caught his breath, he climbed the stairs to return to Braylen’s office. Two flights up, his fear seemed silly. Nothing lived in the catacombs. He hadn’t even seen any bugs or fungus.
Not even the most grotesque magics could affect corpses as anything other than objects.
When he reached Braylen’s office, the door stood open. Algernon knocked to announce himself.
Braylen remained his chair. He looked up with a friendly smile.
Before the satiuz could speak, Algernon held up the rib. “I found one.”
“Excellent.” Braylen stood and swept across the room. “This will help your father a great deal. Only one, though? I expected you could find more.”
Algernon gulped in the face of Braylen’s disappointment. He wanted to sound brave and capable. Instead, he wrung his hands and stammered. “I, er, it’s...ah…”
Braylen laughed, further withering Algernon’s resolve. “That old crypt is dark and cold,’ Braylen said. “There’s nothing in it that can hurt you, though. Just a bunch of skeletons.”
Not sure what to say, Algernon nodded with his gaze stuck to the floor. “I’ll go look again.”
Braylen waved to dismiss him. “Don’t push yourself too hard, Algie. Get something to eat first. Do something to settle your mind. Always face your fears as prepared as possible.”
“Yes, sir.” Algernon turned to leave then stopped. “Sir?”
“Yes?”
“Before, I came because—” He paused and glanced at Braylen’s face.
The man paid more attention to the bone in his hand than Algernon. He turned it in his fingers to scrutinize every square inch.
“Mmhmm?” Braylen said without opening his mouth.
“I had a nightmare.” The words seemed small and stupid. Algernon huddled on himself. His cheeks burned.
“Very good,” Braylen mumbled, no longer paying any attention to Algernon.
Algernon shuffled out of the room and shut the door. The stupid noises in the catacombs had unnerved him enough to blurt idiocy. Braylen had no time for this.
Head down, he hurried to his room. There, he sat on the bed and tried to stop thinking.
He’d helped, at least. Hopefully. Maybe the bone he’d taken did nothing.
He cradled his head in his hands. Nothing he did turned out well.
Except killing people. He’d done a good job at that.
“I’m a monster,” he whispered to the empty room.
For a while, he sat and replayed those deaths in his head. One quick, clean slash had almost decapitated a man. The second had taken more effort. She’d seen him, but in the end, he’d walked away and she hadn’t.
The third, he hadn’t
seen. The man might’ve died in the small explosion or he might’ve survived until the house collapsed.
As for the fourth, he’d left her on the floor, injured and in need of care to survive.
And, of course, the house’s destruction was his doing.
His door opened. “Algie?” Father poked his head inside the room. “Can I—” He saw Algernon and furrowed his brow. “Are you all right?”
Algernon sat up and rubbed his face. “No.”
“What’s wrong?” Father stepped inside the room and shut the door. He sat beside his son on the bed and draped an arm over his shoulders.
Telling his father about his terrible acts squeezed Algernon’s heart. He wanted to curl into a ball and hide. “I just want to go home.”
Father’s shoulders relaxed. “Ah. Yes. That. Would you like to tell me how exactly your grandmother’s house wound up falling into the ocean? She was sparse about the details.”
He’d phrased it as a question but Algernon knew his father wanted a real answer.
“I lost control of my magic.”
This answer felt honest, if grossly incomplete.
“There were people trying to kill us,” he added to complete the vague picture.
Father squeezed Algernon’s shoulders. “I’m sorry that happened to you and I’m glad you and your grandmother survived. It’ll probably bother you for a while. But I need to talk to you about Satiuz Braylen’s project. I know he asked you to help, and I also know you’re inclined to want to help people. Which means I’m fairly certain this came from you.”
He produced a rib bone.
Algernon nodded. “I found it in the catacombs under the sanctuary.”
The moment his father sighed, Algernon suspected he’d made a mistake by venturing into that dark, creepy place.
“Algie, the project Braylen wants me to work on…” Father sighed again. “This entire sect of the Order is trying to find a cure for death. And I believe in that. It’s a worthy goal. What I don’t believe in is throwing power around in an effort to muscle our way into immortality. We need to spend more time on research and less on trying every little thing anyone can think of.”
“Does something like this not help with research?” Algernon pointed to the bone.
Father twitched his mouth like he wanted to argue. “Yes, it can. That’s not the point, son. The point is, I don’t want you dragged into this without understanding what it is. Because the trouble with trying to achieve immortality is it costs lives. Usually not the ones you expect.
“I’ve been resisting this piece of the project because it takes me away from you and your mother. Right now, we’re stuck here, so that concern is lessened, but it’s still there. This is still work, and it still takes my time and energy away from you both.”
Algernon frowned. “But you travel with Mother all the time. You don’t see me that much.”
“Lately, yes.” Father rubbed his eyes. “It looks like everything we left to handle this time was Miru’s doing. He attacked two of your grandmother’s ships to get our attention. It worked. But you know that’s unusual.”
Shrugging, Algernon considered what he knew of Miru. The man had sent people to kidnap Algernon and his grandmother.
He wanted the healing ring. But anyone would want that.
“What does Miru really want? Is it just the ring? Did he only mean to use me as leverage to get it?”
Father squeezed Algernon’s shoulder. “I’m fairly certain he only sees you as leverage, yes. If he ever got his hands on you, though, he’d discover what you’re capable of. At that point, he’d want much more from you. Let’s not allow that to happen. Don’t let him touch you. Avoid him whenever possible.
“As to what he wants? He’s made quite clear that he’d like your mother and me to make several more rings for him. Which we aren’t willing to do. Not for someone with so few scruples.”
Algernon nodded. “Does Braylen want you to make more rings?”
“Not exactly.” Father twitched his mouth with indecision. “I don’t know if I should tell you the specifics.”
“I won’t tell anyone.”
“That’s not what I’m worried about.” Father shook his head. “I suppose you’ll find out eventually. He wants us to try to recreate it as an enchantment on a person, more or less. You can lose a ring, after all. But it’s not possible, as far as I know.”
Holding up the rib bone, Father glanced at Algernon. “I want you to think carefully before agreeing to do anything for Braylen. Not because I think he’ll ask you to do something wrong. He’s a good man. Because he’ll convince you to give everything and then ask for more. You have to know your limits and stick to them.”
“Yes, Father.” Algernon leaned into his father’s warmth. “I was thinking about going back into the catacombs to see if I can find more magically infused bones. Should I bring them to you instead of him?”
Father crinkled his forehead. “Did you hear anything I just told you?”
Algernon shrugged. “It’s just collecting bones. Whether you use them or not is up to you.”
After a pause long enough to make Algernon question his word choice, Father said, “I suppose it’s safe enough to go down there as long as you don’t venture too deep. The enchantments on this sanctuary don’t extend through the entire crypt. Yes, bring them to me.”
For one wild moment, Algernon considered telling his father about his nightmare. If he did, he’d admit he lost control in his sleep. Then he’d have to explain how he killed those people.
“Just make sure you take your time and get enough to eat before you go back there.” Father patted Algernon’s shoulder as he stood. “And plan to have dinner with us.” He gave directions to his lab and left.
Fresh silence pressed on Algernon, goading him to do something.
He should’ve confessed his sins.
He couldn’t confess his sins.
Algernon fled the room and its mute accusations drenched in a memory of illusory blood. He passed Miru in the hall and ignored the man’s greeting.
Miru belonged in the catacomb, condemned to a criminal’s burial out of the Creator’s grace. He’d orchestrated all of this. The blame belonged to him.
The shame belonged to Algernon.
He hurried down the stairs and used the key to open the squeaky gate. His light took a few moments to conjure. Shifting his perception and blocking out his apple scent required another few moments to accomplish.
Ready for anything, he plunged into the chamber, this time turning right. Like the other side, it followed a repeating U-shape and held several empty sections before he discovered any skeletons.
That smoky scent drew him deeper into the catacombs. Though he felt no boundary or other marker, a shiver crawled across his body.
The air had chilled more than expected. If he came again, he’d wear a cloak or a heavier coat.
Had he pressed too deep? No, surely he would smell the difference if he’d crossed out of the sanctuary.
He noticed no other scents at all, in fact. Braylen had suggested Algernon would find several magical signatures among the bones. Maybe he had only guessed.
Maybe Braylen knew more about the corpses than he’d said.
No, on second thought, Algernon had every reason to believe Braylen knew a great deal about these skeletons and their lives.
Algernon knew his abilities needed more practice and honing. Braylen might have offered this activity as much to give him a chance to work on his detection capability as to find useful bones.
Braylen had, after all, asked about Algernon’s abilities. He and his father had answered honestly.
With this thought, Algernon slowed his steps. He scanned each group of niches before moving on.
Tiny fingers of odd little smells poked around the edges of his ability to sense them. One reminded him of apples, except cooked. Another suggested rotting meat. More flickered with sweat, oil, salt, or old fish.
As he passed
one niche, he plucked a knuckle bone smelling of brine and kept going. The smaller scents probably had less magic. He’d need several to equal his earlier find.
He turned a corner with the smoke smell strong and clear to discover a mass of shadow in a vague person-like shape.
It writhed in the air above a skeleton as if the soul tried and failed to break free of the bones.
The shadow turned its head.
Bones danced, making a much louder version of the crackling noise he’d heard before. Without distance to muffle it, the sound reminded him less of crumpling paper and more of death.
Nothing he’d ever heard or seen had prepared Algernon to face this thing. He had no word to apply to it.
This skeleton had an animate shadow.
Impossible.
“Look at that,” Miru said with breathless greed.
Algernon jumped with a squeak and hit the niches behind him. His pulse thundered in his ears and he gasped for breath.
He hadn’t heard anyone or anything other than the shadow’s scraping bones.
Miru snorted. “Imagine you, a pathetic little boy, besting my people. Your grandmother probably did all the work.”
No, she hadn’t. He wished she had. “I killed them,” Algernon blurted.
“Did you?” Miru seemed so calm, confident, and smug. “I guess you’re not as stupid as you look. Do you know what that is?” He pointed at the shadow.
Stupid. Miru considered him stupid.
Though he’d defeated those people in his home partially because they’d underestimated him, the label rankled.
“I’ll take your adorable little pout concealing terror and rage as a no.” Miru pointed at the shadow again. “That’s the product of hubris, kid.”
His stomach churning, Algernon turned to leave. He had one bone already.
“I don’t think so.” Miru threw out an arm and caught Algernon before he could take more than a step. “We’re not leaving yet, Algernon.”
“Let go.” Algernon wriggled to break free.
“Not going to happen. Might as well relax and stop wasting your effort.”
Magic Underground: The Complete Collection (Magic Underground Anthologies Book 4) Page 148
