The Choice of Magic

by Michael G. Manning

  He walked up to the man and held out the oiled leather bag that held his mail. “I brought this for Isabel.”

  The man looked at it suspiciously but took the bag. “What is it?”

  “Something I borrowed,” said Will. “It belongs to her.” He turned and started walking away.

  “Who do I tell her left this?” asked the guard.

  “Just tell her I’m sorry,” said Will without stopping.

  Chapter 54

  Will was already on his way to the hidden spring when he heard hoofbeats on the road behind him. Looking back, he saw a rider galloping toward him.

  Damn it! He started to run off the road when he felt the ground tremble. He turned in place and saw massive flows of turyn coming from the rider and entering the earth. Then his view was cut off as the soil at his feet erupted skyward. Within seconds, he was encased within an earthen dome with only a small amount of light coming in from a hole far above his head.

  Several minutes ticked by, during which Will was painfully aware of how easily he could die by suffocation. A small change in the shape of his prison would cut him off from any source of air. The last time he had felt so helpless had been when his grandfather had paralyzed him while he was sure he was dying from the effects of the spell-cage around his source. “It doesn’t speak well for my life thus far that I’m getting used to moments like this,” he said to himself.

  The opening above widened and the sides began to separate as the earth peeled back like a flower opening its petals to the sun. Isabel stood just beyond; her horse tethered to a bush not far away. She fixed him with an angry stare. With both hands, she lifted the bag that held the mail shirt. “What’s this?”

  Will crossed his arms, which he soon regretted. “I’m returning it.”

  With a heave of her shoulders, Isabel threw the bag. Arms crossed, he failed to catch the heavy bag before it struck him square in the face. The leather and mail together weighed nearly twenty pounds, and he fell backward to sprawl on the ground. “Ow!” Wiping his face, he found a red streak on the back of his hand. His nose was bleeding.

  The look on her face said that she while she had acted on impulse, she hadn’t intended to have quite that effect, but she said nothing. Will got carefully to his feet and then shook the bag at her using one hand. “What the hell was that?” he demanded.

  “It’s yours,” she said stubbornly. “I was giving it back.”

  He drew back his arm as though he would throw it at her. “How about I return it the same way?”

  Her eyes widened in alarm. “You wouldn’t dare!”

  “Try me,” he growled, making as if he was about to do just that. Isabel turned and started to run, but he threw the heavy bag at her feet, causing her to trip and fall. Quick as a flash, he leapt after her before she could get back up. She beat at his hands where he held her dress, but he refused to let go. Shifting his grip, Will caught her shoulders and turned her over, pinning her down on the hard road.

  She glared up at him, her eyes staring daggers of hate through him. Will froze. Their faces were only inches apart, and his anger was draining away. He could feel her breath against his lips, and he wanted to—a drop of blood dripped from his nose onto her cheek. Embarrassed, he sat up, pushing her away.

  They studied each other silently for a minute, and then he noticed the scrapes on her arms. She had hurt herself during the fall. Will pointed with one finger. “Your arm—I’m sorry.”

  “Your nose is worse,” she replied.

  “No apology?”

  Her expression was one of apology, but the words didn’t come out. “I can’t,” she said at last. “I was raised not to.”

  Will used his sleeve to pinch his nose shut and tilted his head back. “Are you even human?” he asked with a nasal twang.

  Isabel ignored his insult. “That’s the first time anyone has ever laid hands on me. You could die for that alone. Do you realize that?”

  “Add it to the list of my crimes.”

  She held up one hand, fingers outstretched, then began ticking them off, one by one. “Unlicensed wizardry, possible warlock, and assaulting a—” She paused briefly. “—a person of high station.”

  “You forgot one,” said Will. “Aiding a fugitive.”

  “A fugitive?”

  “My grandfather was a wizard too,” he explained.

  Isabel’s eyes grew curious. “You never told me his name.”

  “No. I didn’t,” said Will, giving her a mock grin. “Just as you’ve never told me yours. Your real name.”

  “Fair enough,” she replied. “Are you going to add desertion to the list?”

  Will nodded. “I’m deserting Lord Nerrow, the army, and you. That’s why I’m not keeping the armor.” He noticed a fleeting look of pain as he said the last part. “But I’m not deserting Terabinia. I’m going back to do what I can, since it appears the country is about to deprive me of life and liberty anyway.”

  Isabel pulled up her knees and settled her arms over them. “Do you have a plan?”

  “A vague one,” he admitted.

  “Where are you going?”

  “Back to Barrowden.”

  The look on her face clearly spelled out how stupid she thought that was. “You can’t get there. You’re going to desert the army only to run into the arms of the Patriarch’s forces. They’ll kill you.”

  He didn’t say anything.

  Her expression turned hopeful. “I could protect you.”

  She’s daft, thought Will, but when he spoke he took a more direct approach. “I’m not your servant. I never will be.” No matter how much I might want to be.

  “You’re determined to do this?” He nodded. “And you have a way to get there, some secret you haven’t shared?” He nodded again. “What will you do there?”

  “Sneak into their camp and set fire to their supply warehouses.”

  “You couldn’t get in,” she challenged.

  Will lifted his chin. “I got into their camp before and slew their commander. I can do it again.”

  “Another secret?” she asked. When he didn’t answer, she went on. “If it’s some trick of wild magic like you used on that dying man, there are some things you should know. For a wizard, your magic is your life. Keep using it as you have been, and you’ll be dead in a few years.”

  “I know that,” said Will. “But my grandfather was quite old. I think I’ll survive a lot longer than you expect.”

  “You’re a fool.”

  He nodded and got to his feet. Isabel did the same. “Wait,” she told him. “I have a solution.”

  “What?”

  Drawing herself up and straightening her back proudly, Isabel proclaimed, “William Cartwright, I order you to infiltrate the enemy camp and attempt to destroy their supply line. You are to leave in one hour.” Then she relaxed. “If it’s an order, you’re a patriot, not a deserter.”

  He laughed. “I’m not your servant. I thought I made that clear, and besides, who are you to give orders to the army?”

  Isabel’s expression failed to conceal the mischief in her eyes. “Someone you shouldn’t trifle with—as you did this morning.”

  “Trifle?” asked Will, confused.

  “I felt you sniffing my leg,” she accused.

  Flabbergasted, he protested, “You shoved me under there! I was just trying to breathe. You nearly suffocated me!”

  It was her turn to laugh then. After she had recovered, she told him, “Wait here. I’ll go make this official. I’ll be back in an hour with your escort.”

  “Escort?”

  She nodded primly. “You’re taking a sorcerer with you. You’ll need some real power to make the most of this scheme of yours, even if you can sneak in there.” Isabel untied her horse and leapt into the saddle with practiced ease. Then she stopped. “Do you need a mount?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t think it would be safe to bring a horse along the route I’m taking.” He felt rather uncertain about her su
ggestion that he bring a sorcerer, but he had to admit that it would open up more possibilities. Worst-case scenario they die, and I can free another elemental, he told himself.

  “How about supplies? You don’t look like you brought much.”

  “I already have everything that I need waiting for me,” he answered.

  “What about for your escort?”

  “There’s plenty for him too,” said Will.

  “One hour,” she reiterated, and then she was gone.

  Will walked a little farther down while he waited, until he spotted the trail that led to the spring. Then he sat down in the grass beside the road. Mentally he reviewed their conversation, chuckling at parts of it. He wasn’t sure how much he should believe. She had certainly showed considerable influence over Lord Fulstrom, but he wasn’t sure if that would carry over to Lord Nerrow.

  There was also a significant chance that she would fail. The next people he saw might be a contingent of soldiers sent to arrest him, but that didn’t bother him too much. So long as he stayed alert, he could easily get to the spring and escape before they could lay a hand on him.

  An hour and a bit more passed before he spotted a figure coming up the road toward him. The newcomer was hidden by a long, white cloak trimmed in fur. He goggled at it. Is that arctic fox? How much would a thing like that cost?

  He judged the stranger to be of average height for a man, though he possessed a slight build. Had there been anyone like that in the camp? Surely, he would have remembered a thin, rich fop of a sorcerer if he had seen one. The stranger kept his head down, face hidden by the hood of his cloak until he came abreast of Will.

  Will watched as the stranger threw back the hood of the cloak and flashed a smile at him. It was Isabel.

  “Oh, hell no!” declared Will.

  “I was the only sorcerer available,” she told him proudly.

  “I’m not taking you,” he growled.

  One of the elementals above her flashed, and turyn began to flow. The ground started to tremble. “I think you are,” she said firmly. “But if you think you need more time in your cage to think things over, I can arrange that for you.”

  He bowed his head in defeat. “Fine, but only under protest.”

  Isabel pulled something from under her cloak and pushed it into his arms. “Here. I’m tired of carrying this. It’s heavy.” It was the bag with his mail.

  Will pushed it back. “That’s not mine.”

  “You’re still a soldier,” she insisted. “I gave you this free of obligation.”

  “I can accept no debts,” said Will, then he remembered what she had said about apologies. “It’s the way I was raised.”

  Frustrated, Isabel glared at him. “I’m not carrying this for the entire trip. How much money do you have?”

  Will frowned. “Six silver clima.”

  She held out her hand. “Give it to me.”

  Fishing around in his coin purse he found the money and held it out. “What do you want with it?”

  Isabel took the coins from his hand and dropped the bag at his feet. “Sold. It’s yours now.”

  “You paid thirty-seven gold for that,” argued Will. “You can’t—”

  “I can do whatever I please,” she said, cutting him off. Her eyes drifted downward. “Are you going to leave that in the road? Should I add littering on the king’s road to your list of crimes?”

  Annoyed, Will exhaled. “You are the most irritating person I have ever had the displeasure of meeting.” He bent and lifted the bag, settling its strap over his shoulder. “Come on.” He began walking down the trail.

  She followed. “Where are we going? Is there some secret tunnel that leads through the mountains?”

  “You’ll see.”

  And indeed, she did. When they stopped beside the spring, Isabel’s eyes narrowed, studying the strange glimmer in the air. “That’s a congruence,” she said, speaking to herself. Her eyes went to his. “You don’t intend to—”

  Will took her hand and pulled her through. Isabel froze, her eyes roaming across the wide grassland they were suddenly standing in. “William,” she said nervously. “Look at the flows. There’s too much. We’re in Faerie. Take us back!”

  “Take yourself,” he said heartlessly. “My route goes through there.” He pointed at the cave in the rocks ahead.

  She grabbed his arm. “You don’t understand. They’ll kill us. The fae hate outsiders. They hate us.”

  “Relax,” he told her. “They won’t come here.” He began pulling her forward.

  “Why? Why won’t they come here?” she demanded, her voice pitching upward as she fought against her panic.

  He kept pulling, dragging her onward. “Because they’re afraid of the thing in that cave.”

  “Why would they be afraid?”

  Will nodded at a pile of bones they were walking past. “Because it eats them. Don’t worry, though. It won’t eat us.”

  Isabel glared at him. “You are a warlock.”

  “I have bargained neither blood, body, nor soul. Not mine nor anyone else’s.”

  “Then what did you trade?” she demanded.

  “He likes chicken eggs,” Will answered. “But that’s just the rent.”

  “Rent?” she gaped. “You live here?”

  “Not here,” he said, shaking his head. “On the other side. You’ll see.”

  He had to coax her when they got to the cave. Isabel’s fear had become a palpable thing, and while he had rather enjoyed lording his familiarity with the dangerous area over her before, he began to feel slightly bad about it. “Just a little farther. We’re almost to the other congruence.”

  Isabel’s steps were short and halting as he pulled her into the cave. As before, the darkness surrounded them, and he felt an ominous presence. Isabel seized hold of him when the rumbling began, burying her face against his chest.

  “You brought one of them with you?” said a deep, alien voice, thick with menace.

  Will was shocked. He had never known the goddamn cat to speak before. “You can talk?” he asked in surprise.

  “The fae hate her kind,” said the Cath Bawlg, ignoring his question.

  “And you hate the fae,” returned Will. “Shouldn’t that please you?”

  “I hate her kind too. You tread on dangerous ground, wizard.”

  “She’s not like the others,” said Will. “I need her help.”

  A growl answered him, followed by a snuffling sound. “I have your scent now, sorcerer. Come here without him and I will suck the marrow from your bones. Betray us and I will hunt you unto the ends of the earth to extinguish your foul existence. Do you understand?”

  “Y—yes,” she said, stumbling over the simple answer.

  “Go.” And then the presence vanished.

  Will led her to the congruence and took them across. Once they were in the Glenwood, Isabel took several steps before sinking to the ground, hugging her knees. She didn’t speak for several minutes. When she had regained her composure, she asked, “What was that thing?”

  “The goddamn cat,” said Will.

  “The what?”

  “Grandfather called him that. He seems to like it.”

  Isabel looked up at him. “Do you know what it is?”

  Will shrugged. “There’s a lot I don’t know. Are you feeling better?”

  “Only if you don’t have any more surprises like that in store for me.”

  He tried to smile reassuringly. “Just one, and it’s a nice surprise.” He held out his hand to her. “Come meet my family.”

  Isabel got to her feet and dusted her skirts off. Will led her around the brambles that guarded the garden and took her to the front of the house. He didn’t see anyone outside, so he went to the door and knocked. His mother’s voice responded as she opened the door, “Why are you knocking?” Her face lit with joy when she saw her son standing there. “William!” Erisa threw her arms around him.

  She stiffened when she saw the woman standi
ng behind him, and Erisa pushed him away. “You brought a visitor?” His mother began unconsciously combing her fingers through her hair.

  Will stepped aside so they could see each other. “Mom, this is Isa—”

  Erisa was already studying Isabel carefully, then she interrupted him, her face showing recognition. “Lady Selene?”

  “Madame Cartwright,” said Isabel, tilting her chin down almost imperceptibly. “I am surprised you remember me.”

  Erisa smiled. “You were only here—what? A year ago? You’ve grown! Please come in.” The two women went inside, leaving Will standing bemused on the porch.

  Chapter 55

  Will followed them in and glanced around, looking for his uncle and Sammy. Neither appeared to be present. His mother had already begun to busy herself putting a kettle on the stove for tea.

  “So, tell me—Selene—if that really is your name,” began Will, “You’ve met my mother before?”

  Erisa glanced up. “Don’t be rude, William. She came with Lord Nerrow and his daughter last year. Don’t you remember?”

  Everything came together in his mind, and Will’s mouth dropped open. He stared at Selene with new eyes. He had met her twice before. Once, when his father had come to try and get him to go to Wurthaven, and once before, when he had nearly died from the emerald viper bite. He pointed at Selene. “You!”

  Selene raised a hand to cover her smile. “Me.” Erisa watched them from one side, unsure of what was transpiring between them.

  Will turned to his mother. “Mom, do you know who this woman is?”

  Erisa scowled, then crossed the room to cuff the back of his head. “Mind your manners, William. Lady Selene is our guest.”

  He refused to give up. “But do you know who she is?”

  His mother flushed with embarrassment. “Please forgive him, Lady Selene. My son has always been thick headed.”

  Selene smirked. “I am well aware, Madame Cartwright.”

  “Please, call me Erisa, Lady Selene,” said Will’s mother.

  “Only if you’ll agree to call me Selene,” said Will’s companion in a tone so utterly charming that he wondered if she was the same woman he had recently fought with.