by Victor Poole
THE MAGIC WAR
Victor Poole
Copyright © 2017 by Victor Poole
All rights reserved.
CONTENTS
1 Coren Unravels
2 The Seven Witches
3 An Army of Priests
4 The Wall of Ocean-Blue
5 The Aftermath of Battle
6 The Contents of the Book
7 Philas Comes Back
8 Chad and Esther
9 The Meeting of the Spies
10 The Treachery of Denai
11 The Lost Prince
12 The End of Coren's Cooperation
13 Philas Undergoes a Purge
14 The Kings of Saroyan
15 Leed Forges Ahead
16 The Black Worm
17 Delmar and Ajalia
18 Fashel is Pursued
19 Ajalia Speaks to Fashel
20 The Succession in Talbos
COREN UNRAVELS
Coren's eyes narrowed a fraction, and the white image of a woman appeared above his open palm.
"Do you want me to tell you the story, too?" he asked. He sounded like an older brother who has been commanded to entertain a baby, and feels too old and important to do so.
"Yes," Ajalia said firmly. Coren let out an exaggerated sigh, and flicked his fingers. The white figure of the woman above his palm raised up her hands at her sides, and put her face towards the sky.
"When our forefathers first came into the desert that is now Slavithe," Coren said, and Ajalia thought she could see his eyes sparkling, in spite of the scorn he had displayed. She told herself that he was delighted to show off to her, however small he told her the magic was that he did. "They were led in the front by a man named Jerome," Coren said. He wrinkled his face, and looked at Ajalia. "Jerome didn't bring anyone here," Coren told Ajalia. "Really it was Bakroth's wife that managed everything, but no one will talk about it, because they're too embarrassed." Ajalia nodded, and reminded herself to ask Delmar more about Bakroth and his wife, when she saw him again. She had a very strong feeling that she would see him before the end of the three days he had named for his absence. She wondered how Hal was managing with the body of Rane, and the violently-glowing house she had lit up with white magic. Ajalia settled herself into her chair, and prepared to listen. She was determined not to interrupt Coren. Coren, she told herself, was proving to be a very valuable source of information. He was so caught up in his own importance, and in his desire to show off in front of her, that Ajalia thought he would reveal more about the secrets of magic than anyone she had asked so far. She hid a smile as she thought of the look of consternation Delmar had made, when he had realized that the slim leather book of magic had been written by Bakroth's wife.
"Jerome was just along for the ride, but Bakroth had gathered all the slaves, and they'd been walking through the desert for weeks and weeks. There were springs back then," Coren said. "Not like now. It wasn't a proper desert."
"Delmar said they were all going to die of thirst," Ajalia said. Coren's face twisted again with impatience.
"Delmar's stupid," he told her. "I said that before," he added with a satisfied smile, and Ajalia waited. "Anyway," the boy said, "they were all tired of traveling, and Jerome's wife said they should just stop already, and build houses, and Jerome said that was a stupid idea, because there was only sand everywhere, and Bakroth wanted to keep on until they reached the sea. That's when the sky angel appeared."
"This doesn't sound like the story that goes with the magic you're showing me," Ajalia said. Coren sighed.
"Of course it isn't," he told her. "This is not the real story," he said, waving his palm, so that the white figure of the woman waved up and down in the air. "This is what all the children learn, when they're doing the lights at first. Everyone has to recite the story magic. It's just stupid, because the real story is better, and no one is allowed to talk about it. Most people don't know the real story," Coren added, with a smug grin, "but I do."
"Why do you know the real story?" Ajalia asked. Coren's face, which was pocked with the hideous black marks from his mother's magic, turned on her impatiently.
"You seem to know everything," he told her. "So why don't you know this?"
"I guess you're just too clever for me," Ajalia said, smiling a little. Coren smiled in spite of himself, and bit his lips.
"That won't work on me," Coren warned her. Ajalia looked at him innocently. "You're trying to be all nice and funny," Coren accused her. "It won't work. My father taught me how to deal with people like you."
"Who are people like me?" Ajalia asked. She was amused in spite of herself. Coren, now that he had been emptied out of dark magic, seemed to her to be almost human. Coren narrowed his eyes, and pursed his lips.
"Foreign spies," Coren said.
"Surely you only have Talbos to deal with," Ajalia said lightly, looking over at the lamp that filled the room with silver light. She thought that she could feel Coren staring intently at her.
"Are you kidding?" Coren asked. Ajalia said nothing. "Anyway," Coren said slowly, "Bakroth's wife was the first sky angel. That's why people think that the falcon must have been Bakroth, because his wife was the sky angel."
Coren closed his fingers, and the white figure vanished. He opened his palm again, and a glowing gold man appeared. The man held a shimmering silver dagger in one hand. Ajalia recognized the dagger; it was the falcon's dagger that Hal had shown her in his magic. She could feel the dagger, in its age-blackened sheath, pressing against her leg within the bag that she carried.
"The falcon went up to the sky, and spoke to the king in the clouds," Coren said. He twisted his fingers, and the golden shape of the man knelt on one knee, and drove the silver dagger into the sands that appeared below his feet. The figure had floated in the air above Coren's hand, but when the golden man knelt down, a length of sand appeared beneath his feet. The silver dagger sunk down into the sand, and a strong burst of tiny sparks fled up into the air where the dagger had struck.
"When he brought the dagger back, that the sky king had given him, the falcon drove the dagger down into the sands of the desert, and the magic in the dagger made the white stone rise up." The golden man disappeared, and from within the length of sand grew long white blocks of stone that lifted up and formed a great city; the white city that floated above Coren's hand was about ten inches long. At the rim of the city was a great white wall. Ajalia recognized the big white gate that lay at the outer edge of the city.
"You didn't really mean that, did you?" Coren demanded. Ajalia knew what the boy meant, but she pretended not to.
"Mean what?" she asked. Coren glared at her. He dropped his hand, and the white city disappeared. "I don't think that was the sky angel story," Ajalia told the boy. Coren's eyebrows lowered over his eyes; the black pits over his eyes moved a little. "Your skin looks really awful," she added mildly.
"You're trying to distract me," Coren said. Ajalia watched him, a benign and friendly expression in her eyes. "You can't trick me like that," Coren added. "I know what you are."
"What am I?" Ajalia asked. Coren frowned.
"You're a spy," he said. "You're trying to take things, and get secrets. That wasn't the story," he added dismissively. "That was only part of the story. I know you want things out of me," Coren said.
"I got what I needed from you," Ajalia told him, and this was true. Now that he had revealed the hiding place of his brother Wall, and told her where the code to translate his father's secret correspondence lay, she was regarding him more as an innocent pastime than as a body of work. She would like to get more useful information out of him, especially about
the magic of Slavithe, and the customs the witches kept, but she no longer felt as though Coren held any exclusivity about what she could find out. She could easily grill Ossa to get what she needed, and once Delmar was finished with the emergencies in the government, she would be able to get what she needed about Bakroth and the sky angel from him. She thought this was so, and she regarded Coren with light interest.
"I bet the priests will come back," Coren said suddenly. He looked at the open doorway of the room, as though he expected the priests to appear at any moment. "They're more powerful than you think," Coren added defensively.
"I know what you think," Ajalia told the boy. "You think I'm a spy, and I'm out to get you. But I'm not."
"I never said that," Coren said quickly.
"I'm not out to get you," Ajalia said, settling down into her chair, and closing her eyes again. "I am thinking about what to do with you, though," she said.
"You can't do anything with me," Coren said at once. "I'm going to get someone to help me, and then you'll be in trouble for hurting me." He stared at her angrily. "You'll be in a lot of trouble with Delmar," Coren said. "He'll be really angry when I tell him what you did to me."
"I don't know if you'll be able to leave this place," Ajalia told the boy. "You look like a walking curse." Which, she told herself, was what he had been until this evening. She looked out of the window, and saw that the night was at its deepest and darkest point. She repressed a sigh, and closed her eyes again. She had no intention of leaving Coren alone. She did not trust him alone, and she was more concerned with him running out into the streets of Slavithe and being killed on sight than on any danger he could bring to Delmar's government. The boy looked frightening, and terrible. Ajalia had asked Ossa if the marks would heal, and the thickset girl had told her they would not.
"I will tell everyone what you did to me," Coren said spitefully. His left hand crept up to his cheeks, and he gingerly touched the pits that filled up his face. He traced his fingers over the old Slavithe words that lay beneath both of his eyes, and Ajalia saw a light frown pass over his face. "I'll tell the people that you're a witch," Coren added spitefully.
Ajalia closed her eyes again, and leaned her head back.
"You're a spy," Coren said. "Delmar will believe me."
"Delmar was possessed by his mother," Ajalia said.
"My mother didn't even like Delmar," Coren said at once. Jealous sparks filled his eyes, and his mouth was drawn together into a knot. "My mother would never share herself with him that way," Coren said.
Ajalia sighed, and said nothing.
"I was the only one who was there for my mother," Coren said. "Or for my father. Wall has to be the Thief Lord now," he added mutinously, and Ajalia leaned forward and pinched the boy on the arm. Coren leapt away from her, and ran around a chair. He had been standing in front of her chair ever since she had shown him her knife, and since he had conjured the pictures for her in the air. Coren held on to the back of a chair, and glared at Ajalia. "You have to stop hurting me," Coren told her bossily.
"You have to stop saying things about Wall," Ajalia said. "It's bad for you." Coren watched her.
"Why?" he asked warily.
"Tell me about spies," she said.
"I'll trade you," Coren offered. "I'll tell you about spies, and you tell me about why you keep hitting me."
"You're in no position to trade anything," Ajalia said. "If you go out there, and the people see you by daylight, you're going to get beaten, at the very least. They might kill you."
"No one will hurt me," Coren said doubtfully. "Anyway, you're the only one who hits people," he added.
"I have several young men upstairs, about your age," Ajalia said, her eyes still closed. She was relaxing into the chair, and pretending that she was in her bed. She thought about turning out the lamp, but Coren, she thought, was not old enough yet to sit in the dark and stay put. She was sure that a darkened room would make the boy think of running away.
"So?" Coren demanded.
"Do you think they would try to hit you, if they saw all the marks of bad magic on your skin?" Ajalia asked. She heard Coren thinking this over for a while.
"Boys are nicer than you, I bet," the boy said, but he didn't sound sure. "I think you're just making that up," he said, "about people attacking me. I think they would believe me, when I said it wasn't my fault."
"You said you were going to tell them I did that magic on you," Ajalia reminded Coren. Coren scowled.
"Well they wouldn't believe that," Coren snapped. "You aren't powerful enough to do any real magic. You only know kid stuff."
"Will you tell them that your mother did it, then?" Ajalia asked. Her shoulders and neck were wholly relaxed now; she felt half-asleep as she sat back in the chair. She congratulated herself on her foresight in purchasing comfortable furniture, and sighed with contentment.
"Why are you so happy?" Coren demanded. Without waiting for her to reply, he went on. "They wouldn't care if they knew about my mother doing magic on me," he said. "Lots of people do magic on their kids. It makes their kids stronger."
"Do you feel stronger?" Ajalia asked. Coren glanced at her, annoyance in his eyes.
"I'm different," Coren said. "I'm like an experiment. I helped my mother develop new magic." Coren sounded enormously pleased with himself.
"Is anyone else going to use what your mother learned?" Ajalia asked.
"No," Coren said at once. "It was special magic."
"Do you know how to do the magic?" she asked. Coren regarded her with caution. He moved around the chair, and sat down.
"No," he admitted.
"Your mother is dead now," Ajalia pointed out. "Do you think she taught anyone else her secrets?" Coren, she thought, should be catching on by now to where she was going with this.
"It was really important," Coren said. "Too important to talk about."
"Your whole body is ruined now," Ajalia told the boy. "You're scarred deeply. Your face is never going to look all right again."
"Yes it will," Coren snapped. "My mother told me it would."
Ajalia opened her eyes, and looked over at the boy.
"She told you the marks would go away?" Ajalia asked.
"Of course she didn't," Coren said angrily. "My mother wasn't evil. There were never supposed to be marks at all. The marks don't show," he added impressively, "until the magic drains out."
"So what was going to happen to you?" Ajalia asked. She was genuinely interested now. She had never liked Coren at all, but now she wondered if Lilleth had fed the boy some story about an ultimate destiny. She knew that Lilleth had convinced Delmar of something of that kind, in order to get under his skin.
"My mother was using my body to experiment," Coren said importantly. "She made a new way for the shadow children to survive attacks. We only had Bain, of course," Coren said knowingly, "because they'd killed all the rest when I was a little boy." Coren, who was twelve, nodded his chin wisely as he spoke, as though he were describing the long-ago and carefree days of his youth. "I didn't help very much then," Coren told Ajalia, "because Delmar was my mother's favorite, and Wall was jealous."
Ajalia was sure that Delmar had never been Lilleth's favorite, since Delmar had lived in a bare room, and been kept in a half-starved state by his parents, but she did not challenge Coren.
"When I was older," Coren said, "my mother had been using Wall, but then my father wanted Wall to come with him a lot, so he would be ready to become the Thief Lord when my father died. My mother always said," Coren added quickly, looking around at Ajalia, as though afraid she would hit him again for mentioning his brother Wall and the position of Thief Lord in the same sentence, "that Delmar was not clever enough to be the Thief Lord. It's supposed to be the oldest child, you know," Coren told Ajalia. "No one has ever been rude about it, but we all knew since he was born that Delmar was too stupid to live."
Ajalia did not remind the boy that Delmar had been around for a long time before Coren had been
born himself, but she was tempted to.
"Anyway," Coren went on, his voice growing more confident, "Wall had to go around with my father, and then my mother chose me." Coren puffed out his chest, and his eyebrows lifted with satisfaction. "My mother told me," he confided, "that Delmar was never any good for real spells. She couldn't practice on Delmar, because his insides are all wrong. My mother told me that," Coren added, wiggling with satisfaction.
"Did she ever talk about the magic she did try on Delmar?" Ajalia asked, her voice calm and friendly. Coren glanced at her, a crease at one side of his mouth.
"I know what you're doing," Coren told her. "you want to find out what my mother put in Delmar, so you can take it out. But you'll never find it," Coren said. "I helped her," he added proudly. "Delmar never thought about protecting himself against me, the way he did against her. I got my mother in. It was one of my first big pieces of magic." Coren looked like a satisfied inventor. Ajalia thought of the white slab of false soul that she had cut out of Delmar, and that he had exploded with magic from the sky. The piece of soul had burst into a cascade of chalky dust, and the stench from the piece of Delmar's mother had been noxious in the extreme. "I figured out how to protect Bain, too," Coren boasted. He looked sideways at Ajalia. "You tried to threaten me, about Bain," he said, "but I can talk about it now. There's no point in keeping secrets," Coren said with a shrug, "now that all my mother's magic is used up. You shouldn't have gotten the magic out," he added. "It's wasteful. She did a lot of magic on me. I was very special."
Ajalia took in again the enormous cavities of hideous black that filled up Coren's face like the empty leavings of leeches, and she felt her nose form a wrinkle of disgust. The worst places on Coren's face were the double words, "Mine," that lay below his eyes, inscribed in the letters of the old Slavithe. Coren was looking meditatively at the floor, his forehead creased a little.
"We did a lot of good work together," he said. "They couldn't use Bain for ages, because he was the last one. They saved him on purpose, and kept him secret. No one used him at all for a long time. He couldn't run errands, or steal, or anything like that."
