by Dan Neil
Myrddin sighed. Weariness overcame his face as he took off and wiped his bifocals on his robe.
“Even if you stay here forever, the evils that plague this world will find you. It is my belief that darkness has fallen over the kingdom in some form. The citizens of the Liberation Day incident were likely controlled—Axl was afflicted, as was Devin; now, Lorinal may be afflicted, too. And all in different ways, it seems.”
Keia leaned in. “Different ways?”
“Yes. Axl was influenced by a stone, but there was no sign of true possession. Devin’s mind was forcibly taken over, allowing another presence to act through her body. And Lorinal—Lorinal was likely possessed, considering she has little to no memory of the events; her manipulation was likely the easiest, given her—prior resentment.” The wizard held up an amber spellstone. “I was aware of her general feelings, but I had no idea they ran so deep. Coffee?”
Keia grabbed the cup and sipped from it. Her brain was struck by a jolt of energy, and she considered his words. “None of this is happening by accident—someone has to be out there causing it.”
And I think I know exactly who, too: the figure from my nightmares. It’s always been him.
Nodding, the wizard said, “Exactly. Perhaps even multiple people—or perhaps not even people at all. Who knows what you might encounter out in the world? So, you must be ready.”
Keia grimaced. “I’m already behind on spellcasting. I get the point. I’m won’t leave. But shouldn’t we focus on my proficiency? Knowing what these spells do isn’t going to help if I’m incapable of defending myself from regular magic.”
Myrddin met her eyes. “I do believe your magic will return one day. It’s stubborn, but it will happen—maybe in increments, or maybe all at once—maybe when you need it most, or when you least expect it. Who knows? But knowledge is more important. Arming ourselves with it can mean the difference between life and death.”
Turning her head, Keia stared at her reflection in the steaming cup of coffee. She sighed and took a sip.
“Yes, but passing this stupid test is my priority. Staying in the King’s Militia is my priority.”
“Do not fear. Your destiny is not within the Lockout, young Keia, no matter what anyone believes. At some point, someone will use these spells against you. You need to be ready.”
Keia frowned. Everyone else was miles ahead of her, even the stragglers. Her spellcasting had hardly improved at all. Still, she had little choice but to trust the wizard. There was no turning back now.
“Shall we begin, then?”
“I’m ready.”
Myrddin pulled a book from the sleeve of his robe, a red tome with gold engravings. He flipped through pages of lists consisting of pictures and descriptions of spellstones, categorized by their magic. Then he skimmed through a surprisingly long set of pages depicting the interconnections of various tubing, rocks, and spellstone cores. Finally, he came to a section titled Diorvicto Magum. He blew on the book, sending a layer of dust flying off the page.
Keia’s head tilted. “That book looks really old—and important. What is it?”
Myrddin smiled. “This is the King’s Spellbook. It contains a description of every spell forbidden by the Eternal Laws of Magic.”
Keia’s mouth fell open. “What? That’s…”
The wizard nodded.
“Did you write it? And did you make the laws?” she asked.
“I wish I could take the credit, but no. A great spellcaster—the previous King’s Adviser on Magic, a woman by the name of Lady Marienne—compiled this tome and created the Eternal Laws. But that is neither here nor there.”
The wizard gestured for Keia to sit. Cradling a new cup of hot coffee between her hands, she slowly set herself down and scooted next to him for a better view of the book. A splash of the steaming liquid spilled over the rim, landing on the grass next to the ancient tome. Keia turned beet red, her mouth hanging open.
The wizard stifled a chuckle. “Do try not to spill it. First, the spells themselves. How many do you know?”
“Shadow telepathy,” she began, “absolute illusion, necromancy—uh—those three are all I can remember.”
Come to think of it, she’d never really learned anything about Forbidden Magic, except in random books she’d stolen from the underground.
“Very well,” Myrddin said. “Then I will give an account of each Forbidden Spell. I expect you to pay attention, for any of these may be used against you someday. We’ll go more in-depth about protecting yourself throughout the week. Sound good?”
Keia nodded.
Myrddin turned the page of the King’s Spellbook. The next page was titled in ancient Itheran and prominently featured sketches of people grabbing at their heads, or hooded spellcasters holding sickly-green stones, controlling hordes of empty-eyed victims. Ancient Itheran text filled any blank space on the page.
“Shadow telepathy is the most well-known. In regular telepathic communication, one can’t probe further than the other will allow. Even in mental battles, there is awareness, and there are limits. Not with this—the caster of the spell can take complete control of their victim’s cognitive faculties—altering memories, controlling their body, or extracting their thoughts—all without the victim’s knowledge. I believe this to be the spell which was used on Lorinal; the spell is easier when the target is asleep, after all. It may have also been used on Devin, by a different entity.”
Keia fiddled with her wand, eyes locked on the flattened grass. How many fucking entities are there?
A strained half-smile overcame the wizard’s face. “I wish it were only one foe that the future held.”
She shuddered to think of how many enemies were lurking in the shadows.
Myrddin kept going, turning to the next page. The sketches caught Keia’s eye—they depicted a floating golden eye summoning hordes of monsters, which danced around screaming, armored knights. Next to it, a person floated in darkness, and on the opposite page, several people sat around a dinner table, while one of them emanated a strange glow that traced back to the same golden eye.
The wizard continued, “Next, as you mentioned, is an absolute illusion. Most illusion spells can be defended against with basic mental magic. Illusory magic makes subtle alterations to the victim’s perception to gain a mental advantage. An absolute illusion takes this concept further. Under its influence, your perceptions are subject to the caster’s whim. They can alter any of your senses in any way they see fit. You only see, hear, feel, taste, and smell what they impose. There are few known spells that can break someone free of absolute illusion and shadow telepathy, and they are often used in tandem.”
“So there’s basically no way that I’m going to be able to defend myself?” Keia gulped as she thought of Carter—out there with some strange entity that might have reached within the kingdom to capture Lorinal’s mind. If it could do that to someone here, what could it be doing to him?
“You can only prevent them from taking hold. There are ways to defend yourself: spatiaveils, dodging, and attacking from multiple angles, to name a few; they just take practice,” Myrddin replied. “And with the right subconscious mental defenses, it can be difficult to land the spell. These I will teach you.”
He turned the page. There was an illustration of a man holding a wand in the air. His weapon emitted a pale glow, and undead humans were crawling their way out of the dirt all around him. Next to that was a sketch of a mage who was holding a locket with a loved one’s picture. Before them was their loved one, resurrected but horrendous in form.
“Necromancy is the other one you named,” he continued, “and the easiest to define. It is the revival of dead organisms. This spell is particularly dangerous—people are not the same as when we buried them. There are exceptions, of course, but they are very rare. Many tales exist of ancient necromancers who have tried to bring people back
. Their bodies come back, but not their spirits—just crude, violent remnants. Necromancy is banned because it is a disgusting practice and far too useful to the less morally inclined among us.”
Keia shuddered to think what Gaheris might accomplish if necromancy were legal.
Good call on that one.
The next page’s set of sketches featured two mages in a duel, with one having been struck by a gray bolt. A skull was drawn above their head, as if to indicate death.
“Next, we will cover the killing spell. It kills on contact with skin, as the name implies. It ceases the victim’s brain function immediately upon impact. It may be the easiest to defend, as any proper ward will deflect the spell.”
Myrddin turned to a page that displayed two spells: the illustration on the first page featured a wizard surrounded by an orb of energy, while to its right was a sketch of a man whose entire body was covered with a thin layer of the same energy. Ancient Itheran text was scribbled onto every spare inch of the page.
“The next two are forbidden for a counter-intuitive reason. Perfect ward and perfect defense are both spells which make the caster nearly invulnerable to harm.”
“Why are defensive spells forbidden?”
Myrddin sighed. “Unfortunately, to not be used against the king’s interests. We will not bother covering these. If an enemy casts it, wait them out—these cannot be cast alongside any other spells, and they are taxing.”
Keia’s eyebrow rose as they came to the next page. This one had a more detailed sketch—a blond-haired man with bifocals. A reddish glow emanated from his eyes, and he was depicted brandishing a scalpel. There were multiple sketches of him—using his scalpel’s magic to hold someone in midair, or forcing them to attack themselves, or even just holding his instrument to their chest while they screamed.
Keia frowned. By the gods—who the hell is that?
“The next spell is shadow telekinesis, known as the surgical or torture spell, thanks to a local legend. This spell was banned years ago in response to the tragic killings of the Alvignon family by Victor, the Mad Surgeon—yes, that’s him. He was a doctor in Genievon’s outskirts—and a damn good one—but he went mad and experimented on patients—even his own family. Shadow telekinesis is so precise that it can be used to eradicate diseases from one’s body—or, as Victor used it, to rearrange a victim’s innards and inflict grotesque torment upon them.
“He forced patients to perform surgery on themselves and stimulated the nerves responsible for pain, causing backbreaking agony. The mortician’s reports were unlike anything I have ever read. When his exploits were discovered, Victor fled north, never to be seen again. His entire family was found gruesomely slain in Alvignon Manor. Again, once this spell has you, there is no escape; only prevention works.”
Keia gulped. Victor, the Mad Surgeon—more than once, Devin’s mentioned him from her stupid horror books.
Myrddin turned to the next page and then moved his hand to turn the page again. Keia caught a glimpse of a sketch of a wizard pointing his wand at a wounded knight.
In a hurried voice, he continued, “Next is the immortality spell. No human can grant another human any form of immortality. That one should be fairly self-explanatory; so, I shall move on.”
“Isn’t King Symon immortal?” Keia asked. “For that matter, aren’t you immortal, too?”
“Correct on both counts. However, the law was banned after we became immortals. Symon was reluctant to decree that all immortals be killed after he banned the spell.”
“Can an immortal be killed?”
“A strange question to ask of one.” Myrddin frowned. “But yes, indeed. It is difficult but possible. Immortals are more resistant to wounds than mortals, but if their bodies were rendered completely unusable, it would mean their death. For some, at least—there are other forms of immortality.”
The next page had drawings of people kneeling before a woman with a mirror; some sort of energy was connecting the two. Human bodies were littered about the images, their expressions empty.
“This brings us to soul-stealing spells. This foul magic is also rather self-explanatory—it rips the essence from a victim’s body and stores it elsewhere. It’s often used as a source of human souls to cast chaos magic. Lady Resse of Ansorend is the most famous example, trapping hundreds of poor souls in her sacred mirror. Once stolen, no soul can be recovered. Victims are left in an endless, dreamless sleep between life and death.”
“There’s a mirror out there that steals people’s souls? How does that even work?”
Myrddin grimaced. “I’ve always believed that ‘soul’ is the wrong word. The spell robs people of their energy, their essence—it leaves them catatonic, in a state between life and death. It matters little, for there are several common defenses against it.”
He turned to the next page, which featured sketches of machine-like, floating drones glowing in different colors. They were constructed differently—some with multiple stones, some with weapons, and some with tools.
“Finally, we have the last of the Forbidden Spells. It’s called the living spell, and it forbids casting any spell that can attain sentience.”
Keia’s eyebrow rose. “Spells can’t be sentient.”
“They can, indeed. If a spell is permanent and complex, it can develop a consciousness. This is possibly the most dangerous of all Forbidden Magic. Functionally immortal, a spell isn’t anything resembling a human mind. Living spells are usually emotionally stunted. No matter how pleasant they begin, they tend to become quite hostile to humans—a few have even waged war on humanity at large, with varying degrees of success. Now, this concludes our lecture. Any questions?”
“Those are all of the Forbidden Spells?”
“Yes,” Myrddin replied as he snapped the King’s Spellbook shut. “Anything else before we move on?”
Less than two months until my test, and this is what he’s teaching me. Two more months of this—at least I’ll know what the Forbidden Spells are while I’m rotting in the Lockout, right?
She sighed. At least it was interesting—not that she’d ever admit it to Myrddin.
A question hurdled past Keia’s lips. “How did you find out about them?”
The wizard stroked his beard. “I’ve had contact with several enemies over the centuries who wielded these spells to devastating effect; I wish I had less experience with each of them than I do. Anyway, do you think you’re ready to move on?”
“I think I know them all,” Keia said. “Or at least the dangerous ones.”
“Excellent. Now to learn how to defend yourself. As I said, one can only defend against absolute illusion or shadow telepathy beforehand. You can enact mental defenses; little else will help. But with preparation, you can turn your mind into a fortress.
“Several of the others—the killing spell comes to mind—can be defended in more traditional ways. Can you cast a ward for me?”
Keia focused her mind and took a breath. Her arms trembled with the weight of her exertion, but finally, a circular barrier of magical energy radiated from her wand.
“Now what?” she asked, taking a deep breath.
Myrddin was drawing his wand. “Now I cast a killing spell, and you block it.”
“What?” Keia protested. The ward vanished. “You’re going to cast that at me?!”
“Yes. It’ll be just like our training with light magic, remember? Except killing spells are much slower.”
Keia gulped. She remembered being knocked down more times than she could count and going home with minor burns for an entire week, but that was about it. If she missed or miscast now...
“How are you going to use it?” she asked. She had good reason to be nervous; she had just learned of the most dangerous magic in existence, and now, it was to be used on her by an eccentric wizard.
“I moved the field outside the kingd
om for just that purpose,” Myrddin began. “Spatial magic, of course. I will reverse it when you can defend yourself, and nobody in the kingdom will be the wiser. We will not just practice until you get it right but until your reflexes won’t allow you to fail. I know,” he continued, lowering his voice, “your brother is very important to you, Keia. And I am sorry for your frustration. Soon, you will be able to deal with any threat. Now, shall we begin?”
Keia shifted, taking a step back; everything seemed like it was amplifying. “You’re kidding me, right?”
“No. Not even a little bit.”
“You realize I’m a shite magician, right?”
Myrddin’s eyes had a spark in them. “I think quite the contrary. You’re rather intuitive—and very knowledgeable. Both are more desirable traits in a magician than anything else.”
She gulped. “Except for maybe—I don’t know—magic?”
“Keia. You’ve cast a ward before. Why don’t you believe in yourself?”
Pointing a finger, she asked, “Why do you think I’m so worth believing in? You’ve never explained that—why you’ve gone to so much trouble for my sake.”
Myrddin stared into her eyes, amused. “Because you are worth it.”
She hung her head and sighed. “Do I really have to do this?”
With a nod, the wizard said, “I believe you are ready.”
“I don’t. I think this is a terrible idea.”
“It’s a leap of faith. But we could practice with light magic a few more times to prepare you.”
The corner of her mouth pulled toward her sinking chest. “No, I don’t—I don’t think I can.”
Myrddin smiled.
Keia’s fingers rolled into a fist as she stamped her foot and demanded, “What?”
“I’m glad you’re afraid.”
Her annoyance evaporated. “What—why?”
He placed a hand on her shoulder and said, “Bravery isn’t about being fearless. You can’t have courage without fear, Keia.”
