Unmagic

by Jane Glatt

  “No.” As Kara stared, the mage mist split into two, and one part spiralled up into the sky. She recognized that colour: knew whose magic it was. “It’s the magic I used to tunnel out of the cave,” she said. “The magic that wasn’t a spell so it didn’t stop when the task was completed.” It was the magic that she’d unleashed on the world. She squared her shoulders. So it was up to her to use her talent—her unmagic—to stop it.

  “I need to get closer,” she said to Reo, who had followed her on deck. He nodded and turned to the captain.

  Kara ignored their conversation. She trusted Reo to get her what she needed so that she could do what she had to do. What only she could do. She trusted Reo with her life, so she concentrated on the magic.

  There were three separate fragments now, from what she could tell: the two original masses of magic, one of which had now somehow twinned.

  She could see one out at sea, just to their left, and the other two were above the ship, in the wind. The two in the wind were smaller and weaker, so she decided to tackle them first.

  “I need to be there.” She turned to Reo and pointed to the main mast. She hoped that she could do this from the deck, but if she had to climb up the sails or be hauled up into the air—she’d do it.

  “All right.” Reo looped rope around both of their waists, cinching them together. The other end was tied to a railing, and sailors were slowly feeding the rope out to Reo.

  Kara nodded, and with Reo tight against her back, she walked towards the mast. The wind buffeted her and the sea washed across her path a few times, but Reo’s steady strength kept her upright.

  Once she reached the main mast, she reached a hand out. The wood was wet beneath her hand: she craned her neck to look above her. A few sailors were clinging to the rigging, and above them, a spiral of mage mist whipped around the canvas sails.

  “Hold on,” she said over her shoulder to Reo. She reached up with both hands and willed the mage mist to come to her. Slowly, very slowly, the mist started to curl down towards her, spinning more tightly until it was a rope of pale blue mist.

  She’d drawn the mage mist on the island to her with ease, but none of that had the power and intensity and fury of this magic. She continued to pull it to her until it spun tightly just above her raised hands. On tiptoe, she reached a hand into the magic. And was blown back into Reo. Somehow, he kept them both on their feet, and the magic, most of its energy now spent, slowed. Threads of gauzy mage mist wafted off the column and dissolved. After a few moments, the mage mist was gone.

  The wind was noticeably calmer, and she sagged against Reo, who had wrapped his arms around her waist.

  “Are you all right?” he asked in her ear. She nodded and took a deep breath. She was still tired from the ordeal in the cave and her near drowning, but she wasn’t done, not yet. There were still two more masses of magic to deal with.

  It started to rain, as though the mage mist she’d destroyed had been holding it back─and maybe it had been. Kara wiped her hair off her face, and with a hand shielding her eyes against the rain, tried to find the second mass of mage mist amongst the sails.

  It was higher than the first had been but it came to her more easily, as if the energy of the first mass had been feeding into this one and keeping it aloft. She was more careful and took more time to drain the magic. Wisps of pale blue thinned and dissipated as they flowed towards her. By the time it was gone, she was soaked and shivering.

  “Come on,” Reo said. “You need a rest.”

  She would have protested but she didn’t have the energy; so she gave in, since he was right. She did need a rest.

  The wind still whipped at the sails but it was less intense than it had been. She spotted the pale blue mage mist in the sea, hoping that it too had weakened. Then Reo untied them and helped her get below deck.

  THE DOOR OPENED, and Kara and the Assassin came back inside, wet and bedraggled. The Assassin helped Kara into a chair before leaving again. He returned a few minutes later with a couple of blankets.

  “I’ll fetch some tea,” Chal said, leaving him alone with Kara and her Assassin.

  He was afraid to speak, afraid to take the Assassin’s attention from Kara. Afraid to even watch him, although he did, out of the corner of his eye.

  The Assassin wrapped Kara in blankets, using one to gently dry her hair. Dario felt like he was intruding on something intimate, and he was grateful when Chal returned with a tray.

  A few minutes were spent getting tea poured and handed out, but eventually that was done, and Chal sat down.

  “I can watch her while you change,” Chal said. “Then Kara should put on something dry.”

  “No,” the Assassin said. “I’ll stay.”

  “Reo,” Kara said. “I’ll be safe with Chal. You go change and bring me back something dry to wear.”

  “You weren’t safe with him last time,” the Assassin said, and Chal sucked in a breath.

  Dario would have left if he could have gone unnoticed. As it was, he fixed his gaze on the cabin wall behind Chal so he didn’t stare at anyone.

  “I didn’t have a chance to thank you,” Kara said. “For saving me. From my own mistake.”

  “Chal would have let . . .” The Assassin stopped talking as though he couldn’t bear to put his next thought into words.

  “Maybe,” Kara said gently. “So I am grateful to you. But Chal is not responsible for me. And neither are you. I am. Unless I ask you to be, like—” she waved a hand “—now, when I’ve asked you to change and fetch me some dry clothes.” She tucked her hand under the blanket and shivered. “So, will you? Please? I need to go back out there. I’m not finished. And I need your help.”

  “All right.” The Assassin stopped at the door to glare at Chal. “I’ll be back very soon.”

  There was a brief moment of silence, then Chal spoke. “That went better than I expected it to.” He poured another mug of tea and slid it across to Kara. “And what exactly are you not finished doing?”

  “The magic,” Kara said. She sighed, and Dario realized that she was exhausted. And that the fighting between the Assassin and Chal was draining even more of her energy. “I’ve dispersed some of it but there’s still more out there.” She looked across the table and met his eyes. “And Dario, it’s your magic. Our way out of the cave has managed to create this storm.”

  “My magic.” He was stunned. As a Mage he had always been a failure, and yet now his magic threatened them all. “Tell me what I can do to help.” He’d been excited—and proud—that his magic had helped them all escape. But what if the ship foundered and sank? If Kara was lost─if she couldn’t stop it─would his magic continue on a destructive path? Would it cross the sea, growing in strength until it threatened more ships and then eventually the islands of Seyoya? Disguised as a natural storm, his magic could destroy so much, hurt so many people. It had to be stopped.

  “I’m not sure you can help,” Kara said. “I’d be afraid to use your magic again.”

  “No, you’re right.” He didn’t want to let more of his magic loose on the world either.

  He looked up when the Assassin returned, but he was so worried about the destruction his magic might cause that he forgot to be afraid of him. “But maybe you can somehow, I don’t know, put my magic back into me?”

  “Can you do that?” the Assassin asked. He handed Kara some clothes and she stood up.

  “Take a corner, each of you,” she said to Chal and the Assassin, and they held a blanket while she changed. “I don’t know,” Kara said. “All of this is new, so maybe.” She stepped out from behind the blanket wearing faded trousers and a dingy once-white shirt. “But I was able to get rid of two of the masses of magic. I should be able to get rid of the last one.” She sat back down and picked up her tea.

  “But there was only two,” Dario said. “To begin with. You only used magic twice, didn’t you?”

  “Yes,” Kara replied. “But I saw a smaller section split off from the main ma
ss. That’s why I need to get back out there. In case it divides again.” She handed her mug to Chal and picked up the blanket. “I need to get back out there, Reo.”

  “All right,” the Assassin said. “I’m coming with you.”

  “And me,” Chal said. “I can help keep an eye on the mage mist.”

  “No,” the Assassin said. He glared at Chal, who lifted his chin. “I can’t trust you.”

  “Just Reo,” Kara said softly. “Chal, please, I don’t want to risk anyone else.” Kara wrapped the blanket around her and headed to the door. She looked determined to battle the magic, but Dario could see that she was worried.

  “Just me,” the Assassin agreed, with another look at Chal. He opened the door for Kara. He was about to follow her when Dario—without planning what he was doing—reached a hand out to stop him.

  Dario stood up and nervously looked into the Assassin’s angry face.

  “She needs your support,” he said. “Not this bickering between you and Chal.”

  The Assassin closed the door and leaned over him. “Bickering? Is that what you think I’m doing?”

  “It’s not what you think you’re doing,” Dario said. “But it’s what she’s hearing. And feeling. She wouldn’t like the comparison, but she’s stubborn, like her mother.” He sighed. “She’s exhausted and has to do something only she can do. Help her.”

  “Why do you care, Mage?”

  “That’s my magic she’s battling,” he said. “I can’t control it—I never could control it—and now it could kill us and maybe hundreds more if it’s not stopped. I really don’t want to have to live with knowing I’d caused so much destruction.”

  The Assassin looked at him for a long time before he nodded and left the room.

  KARA STARED OUT at the storm. Reo arrived and handed her a coat made of oiled cloth, and she dropped the already damp blanket and shrugged into the coat.

  “Should I have the Mizar head into her?” Captain Arends asked as he leaned close. “By my reckoning, the eye of this storm is just off our starboard side.” He pointed over the right-hand railing. A huge mass of light blue mage mist roiled and twisted, causing waves to curl and crest in the sea.

  “Try to stay beside it,” Kara said. Had the mage mist gotten bigger? Was the storm—caused by magic—now powering the mass of wild magic? Had it somehow become something that fuelled—and was fuelled by—itself?

  “Reo!” She’d made a mistake. She should have concentrated on the main mass and left the smaller two that she’d already destroyed for later. “Tie me in now!”

  Reo stepped up behind her and wrapped the rope around both of them.

  “Here we go,” he said. “You worry about the magic, and I’ll worry about keeping us on our feet.”

  She looked over her shoulder and met his solemn gaze. She nodded, grateful for his steady strength. She wouldn’t be able to fight the wind and rolling deck and the magic. And she trusted him to keep them on her feet. She would need every ounce of energy and talent she had in order to win this battle.

  She was aware of Reo’s warmth at her back as she took a few steps closer to the railing and the storm. A wave washed over the railing, and the sea—knee deep—swept across the deck. She took another step, anchored by Reo, and then she was able to grip the wood with both hands.

  Sparks flashed just above the waves. She reached one hand out and started to draw the magic to her, trying to extract a thin thread. A wisp of light blue started towards her but then the mass twisted and the wisp was drawn back into it.

  “I need both hands,” she said to Reo. She felt his arms tighten against her sides as his hands replaced hers on the railing.

  With both hands free, she stretched them out to the mage mist, forcing it to respond. And it did, but not the way she’d hoped. A layer of mage mist suddenly broke free of the main mass. It started to twist in the wind, spiralling up into the sky, but she reached for it, forcing it down and away from the rest of the magic. It fought her, and she pushed at it, trying to keep it from re-joining the larger mass.

  The sheet of mage mist raced over the railing and slammed into her, rocking her backwards into Reo. Then the mage mist vanished: contact with her—with whatever immunity she had against magic—had been more than it could survive.

  And she suddenly knew what she had to do. She signalled Reo to take her back to the captain.

  “You need to lower me into the storm,” she said when she reached Captain Arends. “Do you have something that can do that?” Reo tensed, and she prepared for his argument.

  “I’m going with you,” was all he said. “You still need my help.”

  She blew out a breath. She did need his help. And if she was honest with herself, his solid presence gave her more than physical strength; it gave her the confidence to head into danger. And this would be very dangerous.

  “I’ll have the men set up a rig,” Captain Arends said. “It’ll just take a few minutes.”

  After untying them, Reo herded her inside to wait. Javan handed them mugs of hot tea but after that, they were left alone at the head of the stairs.

  “They all think we might die,” Kara said.

  “People have thought that about us before,” Reo said. “We’ve thought that about us before. But we survived jumping off Mage Guild Island while being chased by a powerful Mage. Being lowered into a magical storm seems almost tame in comparison.”

  She shook her head, grateful that he was at least pretending that they could do this and survive.

  “Can I ask you a question?” Reo said quietly. “Since I may not have another chance?”

  She nodded. “I might not answer.” She heard his chuckle.

  “I know that.” He paused for a moment. “You finally have the home you wanted,” he said. “So why are you really thinking about staying in Seyoya?”

  She closed her eyes. She wouldn’t lie to him, not about this, but she could choose not to answer. But if this was what he wanted to know before they went to their possible deaths, he deserved the truth.

  “I’m trying to figure out how to live my life without you.” It was actually easier to say than she’d thought it would be, maybe because she wasn’t looking at his face.

  “Why—”

  The ship lurched, and Javan rushed in through the door, sea spray accompanying him.

  “Whatever you’re going to do, you need to do it now,” Javan said. “Come on!”

  Kara and Reo followed Javan out onto the deck. A winch had been moved out into the middle of the deck, and a sailor handed Javan a rope harness.

  “Here, get into this, and we’ll raise you up.”

  Kara and Reo stepped into the harness, pulling the straps up and over their shoulders. Javan tied half a dozen ropes, tightening them so that her back was pressed against Reo, but their arms were free. Reo wrapped his around her waist. She covered his hands with her own and nodded to Javan.

  “Hoist them up!” he called. A couple of sailors started walking around the winch in a circle, pushing the wooden handles. The rope attached to the harness went taut and Kara felt her feet leave the deck.

  Immediately the wind started twisting them, spinning them as the arm of the winch swung them closer to the side of the ship.

  Javan grabbed the harness and steadied them as he accompanied them to the railing. Once they were high enough off the deck, Javan pushed them out over the water and let go.

  Kara took a deep breath as they spun above the angry sea. A few feet to her right the mage mist—a thick cable of it—roiled and twisted.

  And then they were being lowered into the maelstrom. Reo’s arms tightened around her waist, and she knew she could do this—would do this—because she had to.

  DARIO HADN’T BEEN able to stay below, but he hadn’t wanted to watch, either, so he huddled at the rear of the deck, behind the Captain and the wheel, where three sailors were trying to hold the ship steady against the battering wind and sea. And magic.

  But he saw when Ka
ra and her Assassin were sent over the railing, and he heard the order for the sailors manning the winch to start lowering it. And all he could think of was that it was his fault, that it was his magic that was causing such destruction. And there should be some way for him to help fix it.

  He just didn’t know what it was.

  “This is a good spot to see all the action.” Chal sat down beside him. “Ah, I see Reo is with her. Good.”

  “Yes,” he agreed. “As long as he doesn’t fight her.” They were out of sight now, and Dario was tempted to find a spot near the railing and watch. But if it didn’t work—if Kara and her Assassin were lost—he didn’t want to witness it. “You saw it, didn’t you? My magic.”

  “Yes,” Chal said. “It is very powerful. I hope Kara can overcome it.”

  “No else could even try to,” Dario replied. Which was why she had to survive this. Mage Guild had given him no choices—he could see that now—and they’d made his life small and dark. But Kara had the power to stand up to them. And even if it was her mother, the love of his life, who she was standing up to, someone had to.

  Suddenly a wave crashed onto the deck, and two of the sailors manning the winch slipped and fell to their knees. The handles spun backwards a few turns before the sailors were able to recover and stop even more rope from unwinding.

  THEY PLUNGED INTO the waves, and startled, Kara lost control of the magic. She cried out as the wind gusted and cold water reached her knees. Trussed together the way they were, she and Reo had no chance of keeping their heads above water if they dropped into the sea.

  Their descent halted and the rope jerked tight. They dangled with their feet in water for a moment before they were pulled back above the waves.

  The mage mist was still a few feet to her left. It was smaller now that she’d drawn some power from it but what was left was even more volatile.

  Siphoning off some of the magic seemed to have destabilized it, and now it spun and twisted erratically. A waterspout danced towards them, and she reached out to it, pulling at the magic that fed it. Its energy gone, the spout fell apart and dropped back into the sea.