Artifacts, Dragons, and Other Lethal Magic

by Meghan Ciana Doidge

  “My apologies, treasure keeper,” he said, stepping up to my right. “There was an incident that needed the warrior’s and my attention.” His decidedly unfriendly gaze rested on Shailaja.

  The rabid koala appeared to be examining the runes carved on the border of the table. Though as I eyed her, her lips twitched as if she was fighting a smirk.

  “Thank you, healer.” Pulou’s tone was an odd mixture of weariness and displeasure. He shifted, standing across from the healer and directly beside Warner’s shoulder and the gold-banded porcelain bowl. “Your time and energy are always appreciated.”

  Qiuniu nodded, his gaze still on Shailaja. “Alchemist,” he said conversationally. “I would love to examine your blade. At your convenience, of course. Healing the wounds you inflicted with it was most challenging.”

  Shailaja’s head snapped up at his benignly uttered but antagonistically directed words. She wasn’t smirking anymore.

  “Of course,” the healer continued, still needling the rabid koala, “that could be due to your unique magic, not simply the knife.”

  So I’d hurt Shailaja badly? I caught Warner’s gaze and raised my eyebrows. He nodded almost imperceptibly. My gag order on anything related to Shailaja should have included a clause excepting good news.

  “I’d be happy to oblige, healer,” I said. “Perhaps if you have a moment after the unbinding?”

  “I’ll make the time.”

  Shailaja glowered, glancing between Qiuniu and me.

  “Shall we?” Pulou said.

  “As you please.” The healer touched Warner’s forehead lightly. The music that always accompanied him increased in volume, then abated as he removed his hand. I thought he might have been checking Warner’s vitals.

  “The dagger is key,” Shailaja said begrudgingly. “With it, the binding was carved. With it, the spell will be undone.” She turned her attention to me, her teeth grinding on her words. “I want some guarantees from the alchemist. She’s not as stupid as she looks, but she is stupid enough to attempt to renege.”

  Pulou and Qiuniu looked at me, waiting.

  Gee, thanks for jumping to my defense, guys.

  I hated entering into verbal bindings, but I would do it for Warner without even thinking. Though I could still be careful about how I chose my wording. “If you successfully guide the treasure keeper through the process of lifting the binding that ties Warner Jiaotuson to the instruments of assassination, and that ties him to the dragonskin tattoo map that belonged to Pulou-who-was, and if you do so without harming him or anyone else in any way, then I will aid you in removing that which contains your dragon magic.”

  “As you did in the bakery,” Shailaja said.

  “As I did under duress in the bakery. But you may not utilize my necklace or any object of power I have created.”

  “No matter. I have a few options selected for the occasion.”

  “Do you accept my proposition?” The words felt dry and dirty coming out of my mouth.

  “I do.”

  Magic passed between Shailaja and me. It was nothing heavy, but even a light connection to the rabid koala would bother me until I got rid of it.

  Pulou picked up the dagger. Now that I was closer, I could see that it wasn’t snake-shaped as I had originally thought. Rather, the pommel, grip, and cross guard were a dragon’s head, body, and folded wings. The dagger’s curved blade was meant to mimic the tail. Seen up close, the weapon bore a striking resemblance to Warner’s tattoo.

  “The binding must be lifted from the sentinel with the dagger, then affixed to the bowl,” Shailaja said. She gave a disinterested shrug.

  “No,” I said. “It can’t possibly be that easy.”

  “It isn’t,” Pulou said gruffly. “The fledgling can be so flippant only because the sentinel binding was created by the former treasure keeper, and now I am he.”

  Shailaja smirked, then took a deliberate step back from the altar.

  I met Warner’s gaze.

  He nodded. “I’m ready.”

  I took a step back from the stone table, summoning my jade knife into my right hand and twining the fingers of my left hand through the wedding rings on my necklace.

  The treasure keeper held the dagger over Warner’s shoulder, gathering the black-tea-and-heavy-cream flavor of his magic around him. The golden hue of his guardian power flowed over the weapon, coating the carved hilt, pommel, and blade. With no words or incantation, he brought the tip of that curved blade toward the dragon tattooed on Warner’s chest. The tail tip of the dagger cut into the corresponding tail etched onto Warner’s skin.

  Then, jerking the dagger a few inches away, Pulou siphoned half of the dragon tattoo into the blade.

  Warner arched upward on the stone table. His jaw was fiercely clamped shut as he refused to scream in response to whatever torment he was suffering. It was as if Pulou had somehow grabbed the magic of the binding spell sealed to his skin. His dragon magic rolled over his eyes; then he slammed back down onto the altar. Every tendon and vein in his neck and torso bulged. Blood streamed from the wound on his chest. Yet he didn’t utter a word.

  “Oh, God …” I cried out before I could muzzle myself.

  Pulou pulled at the magic of the tattoo again.

  Warner curled forward — away from the assault on his chest and shoulder — then slammed his head back onto the altar. The stone underneath his skull cracked. The runes all along the edges of the altar awoke with a flash of golden light.

  “He’s fighting it,” Pulou muttered to Qiuniu.

  My heart dropped into my stomach. If Warner was fighting the removal, that meant —

  “No,” the healer said. “You simply don’t quite have the tenor … the frequency. Try touching the bowl with your other hand. Perhaps the transfer needs to be grounded.”

  Pulou grasped the edge of the gold-banded bowl.

  The tattoo disappeared.

  The treasure keeper immediately twisted the blade and the captured binding spell away from Warner, then jabbed the dagger toward the side of the bowl. The dragon tattoo reappeared across the banding, as if it had been etched there all along.

  “Holy crap,” I said.

  “Energy must be transferred,” Qiuniu said. “It cannot be destroyed. As you know, of course, alchemist. If we aren’t exactly sure how the spell was created in the first place, it is safer to simply contain it within another vessel. Even better when that vessel was instrumental in the initial spell.”

  I locked my gaze to Pulou’s for a brief second. I knew all about ‘transferring energy.’ I had stripped every last iota of magic from my sister Sienna, then stored it in my katana what felt like centuries ago. Pulou had taken and stored the mangled sword somewhere in his treasure trove. I’d seen it decorating the head of an ivory Buddha the last time I’d inadvertently visited.

  The treasure keeper had pretty much sworn me to secrecy about it all — both the existence of the sword and my ability to create such a terrible object of power.

  I stepped up to the altar.

  Qiuniu held up his hand. “Wait. The protection spells have been activated. Warner must have unintentionally done so when the binding was … well … tearing him apart.”

  Delightful. It was probably better that I’d missed the severity of Warner’s suffering. I didn’t think I could have been trusted to stand by and simply watch him be tortured, not even in the presence of two guardians.

  Warner sat up with a groan, then swung his legs off the altar. Attempting to stand, he stumbled.

  The healer had Warner propped up on his shoulder before I could close the space between us. I stepped up to place his free arm around my neck. Warner evaded my attempt to help him, though, brushing the back of his fingers across my cheek instead.

  “Everything is okay,” he murmured. “Just don’t do anything crazy without me.”

  “Nah,” I said flippantly. “Who could be crazy without you?”

  The healer snorted. “Let me get Warner sett
led. He’ll be fine after a few hours of sleep. That was a rather intense binding spell.”

  “I’m coming with you.”

  “No, you’re not,” Shailaja said. “I want this done.”

  She glanced at Pulou for support. He pointedly examined the newly decorated gold-banded bowl. She curled her lip in a silent snarl, then visibly calmed herself. “I’ve held up my end. Fulfill your promise, alchemist.”

  The verbal agreement we’d entered into tugged me toward her. Apparently, the rabid koala could trigger it on demand.

  Fantastic.

  Qiuniu cleared his throat. “I would rather be here.”

  “So return quickly,” Shailaja said. “We’ve done this before without you. I barely even need the alchemist. She’s simply a tool.”

  Pulou and Qiuniu stared at her, silently unimpressed.

  “Fine,” she sneered. “I promise to not harm a single golden curl on her golden little head. Happy?”

  Pulou laughed. “That’s an exceedingly specific promise masquerading as a broad statement, fledgling.”

  “I need the alchemist. She is useful. I shall not harm her if it is in my power not to do so.”

  “And if she attempts to kill you?” the healer asked. I thought he sounded more amused than he should be when discussing attempted murder.

  But then, I was the joker wearing the T-shirt.

  “Then naturally, all deals are void.”

  Pulou tucked the bowl and the dagger into the pocket of his fur coat. I imagined them reappearing somewhere in the chamber behind or beside me. But that made my head hurt, so I thought about the expensive chocolate waiting to be consumed in my satchel instead.

  “Do try not to kill anyone while in the chamber,” the treasure keeper said casually. “You are here only at my invitation, and … the artifacts might react badly to murder. Anyone’s murder.”

  Right. Good to know.

  A wicked smile spread across Shailaja’s face. “Yes. Balance must always be maintained, Jade Godfrey.”

  I opened my mouth to sneer right back at her, then decided I was done maintaining the boring nastiness between us. Instead, I pressed a kiss against Warner’s lips.

  “Just prop me in that corner,” Warner said.

  “No way,” I said teasingly. “The healer says you need a nap like a good boy. I’ll bake you cookies.”

  “Cowboy cookies?” Even exhausted, the sentinel was game to play along.

  “Anything you want.”

  Warner grinned, brushing his hand against mine. Then he nodded to the healer.

  “I’ll be gone only moments,” Qiuniu said.

  He walked away from any further discussion, Warner still propped over his shoulder. Though I was pleased to see that my boyfriend was holding up most of his own weight.

  “It’s going to be okay,” I whispered to myself.

  Then I caught sight of Shailaja. She was watching Warner leave. Her expression was unfiltered, raw. My stomach soured with the realization that the rabid koala might actually be in love with him. Which was seriously twisted, given that she wanted the instruments of assassination so badly, and given how long he’d been firmly standing in the way of her acquiring them.

  And now there was me.

  I was the obstacle between her and Warner now. As well as between her and the instruments of assassination.

  She turned her gaze on me, then sneered.

  Yeah, I wasn’t stepping aside.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Shailaja hopped up and sat cross-legged on the altar. She lifted her silk bag onto her lap and thrust her hand into it — much deeper than the bag appeared to be. Then she pulled out a medieval-looking jeweled crown constructed out of some sort of silver-gray metal. She twirled the crown on her finger. It wasn’t particularly pretty, and the jewels appeared almost utilitarian — if jewels could be such a thing — but I could taste the sorcerer magic emanating from it even with my senses dampened.

  “There once was a man who thought he would be a benevolent king,” Shailaja said. “But then, as the legend is told, he loved the wrong woman.”

  I narrowed my eyes at her. I really wasn’t interested in story time with a psycho. On the other hand, I was seriously jealous of the apparently magically bottomless bag.

  “There’s a sword that goes with the crown as well, but the treasure keeper said I couldn’t use it.” Shailaja pouted in Pulou’s direction.

  I gathered this was supposed to be a fetching expression. It wasn’t.

  “Shall we continue here?” I asked the treasure keeper.

  The guardian nodded. “As best a place as any. Contained.”

  “It’s just a little … overwhelming.”

  Pulou nodded, then tilted his head deliberately left and right. The piles of treasure and artifacts pushed back from us another six feet.

  His redecoration exposed the Buddha I’d seen the first time I unknowingly visited the chamber. The three-foot-high ivory statue was still joyfully holding his round belly, and was wearing my mangled katana like a lopsided crown.

  I realized that Shailaja was following my gaze.

  “What is that pretty?” she asked.

  I ignored her, pulling my eyes away from the sword. “My apologies, treasure keeper, but I believe I must ask you to step back as well.”

  Pulou nodded, taking a few steps away and placing himself between us and the exit. Smart man. Then, rather amazingly, he gathered all the magic in the chamber toward him, drawing the energy farther away from Shailaja and me.

  I stepped up to face her, standing almost nose to nose.

  “Had I known you’d replenish your necklace so … voluptuously,” the rabid koala whispered, “I wouldn’t have bothered with this old thing.” She waved the crown offishly. “I still remember the taste of your blood, alchemist.”

  “And my knife? Do you remember that as well?”

  “Intimately.” She pursed her lips and kissed the air between us.

  I blinked, just once. But when her smile grew, I found myself wishing I hadn’t reacted at all.

  “What else have you got in the bag, Shay-Shay?”

  “Come find out, Jade.”

  Shailaja lifted the crown between us. She held the artifact by forefinger and thumb on either side, so that her fingers were carefully spaced on four of its jeweled points.

  I placed my fingers on the four points nearest to me. One point remained empty.

  Shailaja tilted her head, studying the artifact we held. “A solar or radiant crown such as this would indicate some sort of adherence to or study of Greek mythology. But the magic is sorcerer-based alchemy, yes? Some sort of protection, with perhaps the power of persuasion mixed in. Using nine jeweled points is rather obvious, though. Who do you suppose was the would-be-great king’s benefactor?”

  “Not interested,” I said.

  “What does it take for an object to wind up in the chamber of the treasure keeper?”

  “You’re here. I would think the parameters were pretty clear to you already.”

  “But I can leave whenever I want. What is that?” She nodded over my shoulder toward my mangled katana.

  I was careful to not even blink in response.

  “Just take the magic,” I said between gritted teeth. “I don’t want to be this close to you ever again.”

  “Then give it to me, alchemist. Nothing can simply be taken. Balance must be maintained.”

  “You took the magic from my necklace. Drained it dry.”

  “You offered it to me first.”

  I hissed, seriously tired of playing games with her. I focused my attention on the power contained within the crown we held aloft between us. Its sorcerer magic was unmistakable, tasting of loamy earth, sweet potato, and some sort of truffle. I couldn’t immediately make out the purpose of the alchemy — and whether or not it offered the wearer magical protection and power of persuasion. But I was assuming that Shailaja’s history lesson might have just been a guise to test the extent of my d
owser abilities, and that she was guessing about the crown’s origins herself.

  I reached out to the magic contained within the artifact, coaxing it with my own alchemist powers. Teasing it to stir and blend with my own magic. But I didn’t claim it, as I did with the magic I added to my necklace or my knife. Instead, I simply gathered the power of the crown into tiny cyclones underneath each of my fingertips. Then, with a bit more of a push than it needed, I released each miniature storm toward Shailaja.

  The rabid koala gasped, then giggled.

  Damn. I should have known she’d like that.

  She licked her lips and purred. “Again.”

  I grabbed more of the energy contained within the crown and systematically started filtering it to Shailaja. I could actually see the dark-blue magic as it began twining around her fingers, then spreading up her hands and wrists.

  Shailaja inhaled deeply. All her snarky attention was diverted to the crown and siphoning its magic.

  I felt it the instant she started pulling the sorcerer-based alchemy toward her. The blue streaks of magic twisting around her forearms slowly drained of color, then turned into a golden sheen as she somehow converted their power.

  Even watching it happen a second time, I still had no idea how she did it. Somehow, she gathered all the magic I gave her and pulled it up and around her like …

  Like a cloak.

  Like the treasure keeper’s fur coat … which was actually a manifestation of his guardian mantle.

  I met Shailaja’s gaze.

  She smiled.

  Then she tried to reach through the crown and grab my own magic.

  It hurt, like having the tips of my fingers latched onto by a gigantic leech … a sensation that was exceedingly similar, in fact, to how Shailaja’s shadow leeches siphoned magic.

  Still grinning like a maniac, Shailaja smacked her lips. “Just a little sip, Jade.”

  I ripped my fingers from the now-drained crown and backhanded her across the face.

  She flew off the altar, and for a brief moment, the protection wards etched into the edges of the stone table reached up and grabbed my arm, pinning me in place.