by Elise Kova
“I’m real too.” Vi sank back into her pillows. Really tired, more like. She stared up at the threads of light that unfurled from her. They looked thinner than they had before. “What’s happening to me, Taavin?”
“That is a question that will take a lifetime to answer.”
“This magic…” Vi paused and he didn’t fill the space with words. Silence stretched as her magic continued to fade. Vi looked down at her hand, nestled in the folds of her blanket. There were only a few threads of light clinging to her.
First, she had made fire. Then light that became fire. Now… this.
“This magic,” Vi continued, stronger. “Is it truly that of Yargen?”
“Yes,” he said solemnly. “When I used the word samasha, you were gifted the ability to understand Yargen’s gifts.”
The word washed over her, and with it the last threads of light left Vi’s body. Taavin sounded as if he had been about to say something, but Vi could no longer sustain the connection; for now, at least, his words would have to remain a mystery. The sounds of night flooded her ears; she hadn’t even realized they’d been muffled. Sehra had been right. The traveler had known Vi would have this power…
There were easily a hundred questions buzzing through Vi’s mind in that moment. But she found herself too exhausted to keep her eyes open a moment longer, let alone consider their answers.
The moment Vi knocked on the doors and stepped inside Sehra’s throne room, she heard an immediate, “You’re late.”
“I’m sorry.” Vi tried to avoid making excuses. “I slept late, so my lessons started late and I’ve been behind ever since.”
“Do make an effort to start on time, princess, because we have much ground to cover.” Sehra stood from her wood-and-leaf throne, starting over to the secret door that led to the study. “Come, we’ll work in here.”
“I slept late because I was up late reading your book.” Vi held up the small tome as she sat down in the same chair she’d been in yesterday.
“Were you?” Sehra sat as well. “Then perhaps you can give me a short summary on the magic of Yargen.”
“It is a magic the rest of the world has, that also extends beyond the elements. It’s somehow…all elements at once. The magic of Yargen is invoked with words of power.”
“A good, concise summary.” Sehra held out her hand and Vi passed her the book. “We’ll begin with the word I learned first.”
Sehra opened the book, holding it between them. To Vi’s immense relief, the page was not narro. She had no interest in confronting her mysterious friend in front of Sehra.
“Durroe,” Vi read aloud, eyes on the page.
“What?” Sehra looked up at her quickly. “What did you say?”
“Durroe?” she repeated, the word less certain. “I’m sure my pronunciation is off…”
“I’ve never heard it said that way. I pronounced it the way my mother did, and she pronounced it the way her mother did as well.”
“How do you pronounce it?” Vi was forced to ask.
“Darol.” Vi watched as Sehra’s mouth formed the word, making sure that she was hearing exactly what the woman was saying. It was an odd disconnect, because everything she saw in the woman’s moving lips was nothing like what was written on the page.
“Darol,” Vi tried to repeat it, but the word felt clumsy, awkward even. There was no magic hum to it.
“What made you say durroe?” Sehra asked, somewhat cautiously. Much like how Vi felt when she tried to mimic Sehra’s pronunciation, the Chieftain looked strange recreating hers—and slightly missed the mark to Vi’s ears.
“That’s what’s written.” Vi motioned to the page.
“You can read these symbols?”
“Yes…” Vi said cautiously. Sehra leaned back in her chair. The Chieftain’s eyes ran over her, cool and calculating. Vi shifted in her seat, crossing her leg and folding her hands. She waited as long as she could, but at a point was forced to ask, “Can’t you read it?”
“No.” The answer rung in Vi’s ears.
“But… how do you know what it says? Surely you must be able to read it?” Vi looked back to the book. Sure enough, durroe was still quite clearly written on the page to Vi’s eyes. She didn’t see how the symbols could be read as anything else.
“I told you, I learned from my mother, and she from hers. But what I did not tell you was that none of us could read these strange glyphs.”
“You do see the circles and lines, then?” Vi asked cautiously.
“I do.” Sehra thought a moment. “How did you come up with the word?”
“I don’t know,” Vi confessed, hoping Sehra believed that she wasn’t attempting to dodge the question—which, for once, she wasn’t. “I see it and I… I hear sounds? I see words? No, not quite… it’s as though the shape moves before my eyes and by the time it’s finished, it looks nothing like what I saw at first but somewhere in its shifting I see the meaning and know how it should be said.”
Sehra tapped the armrest of her chair, thrumming her fingers along its edge in quick succession. “I have no such sensation,” she said finally.
“I’m not lying,” Vi said hastily.
“I know you’re not.”
“How?”
“Grandmother said that her great grandmother could derive meaning from these symbols. But I never believed it, nor did my mother, for all we saw were the strange circles and spirals. But you… you can read it?”
“I… I think I can? I can’t say for sure I’m right…” Vi looked back to the page and then, as slowly as she dragged her eyes away from it, looked to Sehra. “What does it mean, that I can read it?” Read still seemed a generous term for the sensations Vi experienced when looking at the page. Perhaps it had something to do with Taavin’s word giving her an “understanding.”
“I cannot say yet. But I do think it will expedite your studies.”
“Good… because all I care about is controlling my magic and keeping it hidden,” Vi emphasized. There couldn’t be any incidents like the one in the jungle with her fire getting away from her… or randomly glowing. Sehra gave her a hard look. “I mean no offense,” Vi added hastily. “I don’t want to keep it hidden because of…”
“I know what they will say of ‘magic from the North’ in that city of ice.” Sehra gave her a thin smile.
“Truly, the most important thing is for me to control it. If I go back to the capital and start an inferno—”
“We will see that you establish control. That was my task in all of this, what the traveler told me; I am to teach you all I know about the magic of Yargen. Now, durroe… I recommend holding out your hand.” Sehra held her palm up to the ceiling, her long fingers outstretched. Vi mimicked the motion. “I imagine this as a platform for my magic. On this platform, I will build durroe.”
“Build it?”
Sehra outlined the glyph in the book with her finger. Then, she did the same about an inch off her palm. Her movements were precise, and shaped out durroe exactly as it was in the book. The ghostly outline of the glyph appeared, hovering midair above Sehra’s skin; above the glyph was a round orb of light.
“You’re not… glowing.” Vi remembered the threads of light radiating from her body the night before.
“No.” Sehra looked at her strangely. “I envision the illusion I wish to make—the orb of light. Nothing else would be glowing.”
“Of course not,” Vi murmured. Sehra continued to stare. Well, if she was raising suspicion, she may as well go all the way. “Have you ever heard voices from the magic?”
“Voices? Of what kind?” If Sehra had to ask, then she most certainly hadn’t.
“Nothing.” Vi shook her head. “I had a strange dream last night, that’s all.” She knew better. Nothing about that had been a dream. She could still feel Taavin’s words washing over her, rippling through her veins. Vi worked to push it from her mind and quickly mirrored Sehra’s motions. “So I hold my palm out like this?”
“Yes.” If Sehra was suspicious still, she gave no indication. “Now, you will attempt to conjure the essence of durroe above your palm. Try drawing it first—that was how my mother taught me.”
Vi closed her eyes, summoning the symbol of durroe to the forefront of her mind. Lifting her other hand, she made an attempt at tracing the glyph in the air. At first, her skin, and the space above it, remained dark.
But Vi tried a second time. A third. And on the fourth, trails of light lifted from her skin, beginning to take shape before fading away frustratingly quickly.
She stared in wonder where the glyph had begun to form.
“Again, princess.”
Vi took a slow breath, held out her hand again. By the time she completed drawing the symbol, the initial lines faded and there was no illusion—no orb of light, no strands peeling off her skin to hover in the air.
“What am I doing wrong?”
“Nothing, you merely need practice,” Sehra assured her. “Try again.” The Chieftain settled back in her chair, plucking a book off a nearby shelf. She flipped through it nonchalantly, clearly settling in for what she assumed was going to be hours of work.
Vi pressed her lips together in a firm line. Sehra may not know what she was doing wrong, but Vi would bet she knew someone who did. Taavin—a voice, a man linked with fate, and most importantly, someone who was from a region of the world that supposedly had intimate knowledge of this magic.
She’d summon him again tonight, and Vi wouldn’t take no for an answer when she asked for his tutelage.
Chapter Fourteen
Vi’s hand rested on her drafting table, turned upward.
Everyone else in the fortress was no doubt tucked safely in their beds at such a late hour. But she had stayed up, waiting and listening for quiet to take over the air and assure her that it was safe to slip into her study. She could’ve summoned him in her bedroom. But that had made her feel slightly… vulnerable last time. This was going to be a business transaction, and Vi wouldn’t start it on weak footing.
She allowed magic to trickle across her skin. Sparks crackled between her fingertips and condensed into a flame in her palm—small and harmless. It was the same action she’d performed since she’d first manifested her magic. But now the flame didn’t jump, or leap, or singe the desk as it had a mere week ago. The tiny fire was a mirror of what burned on the wicks of her candles and nothing more.
After a day of practicing with Sehra and making minimal strides, she needed this.
This was the reminder that, for the first time in her life, her magic was beginning to flow easily. Even if this wasn’t the glyphs or magic of light. This much she could now do without fear, and that was progress.
Vi closed her fist, snuffing the fire.
Enough dreaming of things being simple. There was work to be done.
Taking a deep breath, Vi allowed the air to fill her lungs and feed the spark that she associated with the brilliant magic within her. She didn’t bother with Sehra’s instructions. So far, Vi had found the most success on her own, summoning the glyph and her mysterious contact in her own way.
“Narro hath,” she whispered. Just like before, light danced on her skin, and Vi felt the connection nearly instantly. “Hello again.”
There was a long pause that drew a smirk across her lips. She would bet Taavin didn’t expect her to be the first to speak between them, and Vi was glad she’d seized the opportunity.
“I see you decided to contact me again.” He made it sound as if he’d been waiting on her. As if she’d been inconveniencing him in some way.
“You don’t sound surprised.”
“I’m not.”
“Why?” Vi asked.
“Because you need me.” His words were arrogant, yet they smoothed across her skin like sunbeams.
“I don—”
“And because I need you.” That stilled her. There was a begrudging reluctance about the sentiment, and an undeniable sincerity. Vi stared up at the ceiling, looking at the intricately curved wood, waiting for what he’d say next. Fortunately, he didn’t make her ask. “We need to find the apexes.” He paused. “You need to find them.”
“Excuse me? I’m not your errand girl.” She’d contacted him to demand help and now he was trying to turn the tables on her.
“This is far greater than your ego,” he said sternly. Vi wished she had a face to look at. Though, perhaps it was better. As a disembodied voice, he couldn’t see the expression she was making at his words right now.
“Why are they so important?”
“In all the recordings by the voices through the ages, they have mentioned apexes of fate as the places where Yargen’s will is at work. You, as the champion, and me as her current voice, must go there and learn of her wisdom.”
“Her wisdom.” Vi snorted. “All I’ve seen at one of these apexes is a vision of my father and you.”
“A vision of your father?” Taavin’s voice rose with obvious interest. “Tell me of it.”
“Maybe…” Vi didn’t want to share her family with this disembodied man. That was a subject far too precious and personal. But… as he needed her, so she needed him. Which gave her an idea. “What do I get in return?”
“You’re withholding the visions of Yargen from me?” He sounded positively aghast. Vi grinned wider.
“I need a teacher, to make sense of this magic I have.” The sooner she did, the sooner she could put all worry about returning to Soricium to bed and merely be excited about being reunited with her family.
“I am not some lowly tutor. I am the voice,” he said haughtily.
“And I am the champion—” Whatever that meant. “So unless you want to find these apexes on your own, I suggest you work with me.”
There was another long pause. If it weren’t for the magic radiating off her skin, Vi would’ve thought he had disappeared entirely. But he was still with her. She could almost feel his breathing.
“Very well. You find the apexes based on my direction and tell me your visions there… And I shall endure the questions of a resident of the Dark Isle about Lightspinning.”
Vi remembered Sehra’s map. The Dark Isle… that was how the rest of the world had labeled the Solaris Empire. This confirmed for her beyond all doubt that wherever Taavin was, he wasn’t in the Empire. Which meant he really did need her to find these apexes. Vi could work with that leverage.
“You have a deal, Taavin. I’ll find your apexes in the Solaris Empire and you teach me… Lightspinning.” It was an apt name for the magic, she supposed, thinking about the swirling glyphs she’d seen surrounding him and what Sehra had conjured.
“Now, tell me of your first vision.”
Vi obliged him, recounting what she had seen in the ruins. She spared him her emotions at seeing her father, and stuck to the facts. Taavin stayed oddly quiet throughout, not even a hum of affirmation that he had heard her.
“I see… Then, the next apex you should seek will be in a tomb marked by Yargen. I would suggest—”
Vi interrupted him before he could finish. “Wait a minute, I told you my vision, now it’s time for you to tell me how to make use of this light.”
There was an audible sigh.
“My teacher here, she can draw these glyphs in the air to use the magic.” Vi barreled ahead before he could make any kind of objection again. “All I can do is make it radiate off my skin like tiny threads.”
“You’re not focusing it carefully enough, then,” he said, after what seemed like forever.
“That doesn’t help me.” She pursed her lips together. “‘Focusing’ is too vague.”
“You said you have a teacher there, on the Dark Isle?” She couldn’t tell if he was impressed or horrified by the fact. “Why not consult with her? She’ll be able to help you far more than I can, being physically present.”
“Because I’m asking you, remember? You need me.” And because Sehra doesn’t know very much, Vi refrained from saying. She’d allo
w the other noblewoman some pride. “She draws the glyphs with her fingers in the air, but I—”
“No, physically drawing them is a fool’s endeavor.”
“Then what do you suggest?” Vi tried and failed not to take offense at his tone. She suddenly felt very silly trying to doodle in the air with her index finger for hours.
“Yargen’s words are too complex for a mortal hand to draw efficiently—maybe it’s possible to achieve something in that way, clearly your teacher manages. But that seems an utterly ineffective means to harness her power…You must, instead, understand the glyphs beyond all doubt. Know them in your soul—more than your eyes and ears can tell you. Know how the words resonate with your will. Only then can you gain mastery of them.”
Intent was what this magic seemed to boil down to. Not unlike the elemental magicks of the Solaris Empire, she supposed. Vi flipped open Sehra’s book, looking thoughtfully at the random page she opened to.
“When you say words… you mean the glyphs?”
“Yes, we aren’t equipped to fully capture the language of the gods with mortal means. The best we can do is through the markings—glyphs, as you call them,” he said, matter-of-fact. A godly language, that would explain why she saw them come to life on the page and resonate sound in her mind. Though if Vi hadn’t had the week she’d been having, she would’ve scoffed at the notion of these words of power entirely.
“So you’re saying I just need to memorize them more?”
“Yes and no. When you say the word, you will not draw the glyph with your hands, or ink, or by any other means. But with your mind. You must know it there. Like a musician knows his pieces, inside and out, well enough to know how it must be played in his own style.”
“Yes, intent… That should be doable,” she mumbled. If there was one thing Vi could do, it was amassing useless knowledge derived from books.
“It’s not as easy as your tone tells me you think it is.” He chuckled.
“Don’t underestimate me.” She hated how condescending he sounded. No stranger would speak to the Crown Princess that way, voice or no voice.
