Magic Betrayed_Elustria Chronicles

by Caethes Faron

  “Her abundance of magic more than makes up for not being raised in it,” Jessalyn said.

  The talisman around my neck held more power than anyone in the Citadel realized: sorcerer power. As far as the Council knew, my mother had stripped my spark of magic when I was a child and placed it in the talisman, making an already magical object more powerful. It was true, just not the whole truth. She had also killed my father and trapped his magic in the amber stone. The Council only knew that my mother had studied ways to steal magic, not that she had successfully stolen a sorcerer’s.

  “It doesn’t matter how much magic someone has if they don’t know how to use it,” Darian said.

  To keep the universe in balance, Darian was a jerk to me to make up for the fact that Kellan thought the sun shined out of my ass. In this case, though, I thought he had a point. None of them understood what it was like to go from a lifetime of not even knowing magic was real to having to use it constantly. I’d adapted pretty well over the last six months, remembering to levitate items instead of physically getting them, but when I was absent-minded or distracted, I still reverted to my human ways. Much of my training had involved simply remembering I was a mage and could use magic to get out of situations or to enhance my circumstances. During the trials, when I was under that amount of stress with the stakes as high as they were, my biggest fear was that I would blank and forget to use magic altogether.

  There was no time to waste. The only way I’d survive the trials was by taking advantage of my father’s magic. I would need to delve deeper into it than I ever had to guarantee I’d pass. If I could tap into my father’s power, see what it meant to be a pidge and have sorcerer magic in my blood, that could give me the edge I needed.

  I stood from the table. “Well thanks for the chat, guys. You’ve done nothing to ease my nerves, but I appreciate the congratulations. In case I get hauled off to the trials tonight, it’s been nice knowing you.”

  “Don’t let Darian run you off,” Priya said.

  “Yeah, he doesn’t know what he’s talking about.” Kellan glared at Darian then smiled at me. “You’ll do great.”

  “No, it’s not that. I’m done eating, and I need to get studying. I’ll see you later.” I waved as I left the mess and walked to a set of rings that would take me to the hallway outside my room. As much as I hated to admit it, I liked these people. If I died at the trials, I’d miss seeing them—if there was something after death to allow for such feelings.

  Chapter 3

  My small, nondescript room with a tiny en-suite bathroom showed no signs of being lived in for six months. There was nothing in it to identify it as mine. I spent all my time training, and once I became an agent, I didn’t expect to spend a lot of time here. All I had were a few books checked out from the Citadel’s library, some clothes, my mother’s old satchel, and my cell phone from Earth that had long since died.

  A small bed sat in one corner, and in another was a simple desk and chair. The one nice feature was the window. Being perched on the mountain allowed for magnificent views of the surrounding countryside. Little villages and towns dotted the horizon, and up above flew tourists who loved shooting sparks at the force field protecting the Citadel. But the real reason I had chosen this room was because the rooms on each side were vacant, ensuring peace and quiet even though Kellan’s room was down the hall.

  I lay on the bed and fought the urge to sleep. I’d been running nonstop for months, and the knowledge that it was almost over came crashing down on me. Rest would have to wait until I’d passed the trials. I had memories to access.

  It had shocked me to realize that the visions I had of my mother were memories from my father, Marty, that the talisman held. Something about the amber stone and the process of locking my father’s magic into it had preserved his memories and allowed whoever wore the talisman to access them. It was even more reason to never let it fall into the hands of another. I would fight to the death for this stone.

  I cleared my mind and started where I so often did: with my favorite memory. I’d scoured thousands of them for information about my mother that would prove helpful. I’d searched through faces, hoping to find someone I would recognize, someone who might give me a clue to who the Directorate had working for them inside the Council’s inner circle.

  I came away with few certainties. One was that my mother was masterful at keeping my father in the dark. Two, Marty loved Meglana and realized much too late that she wasn’t as she seemed. And three, he loved me enough to stick around once he knew what was happening.

  And that’s where I always began my expeditions into his memories. It was the first memory of his I’d seen once I wrapped my head around this newfound ability I had. It was almost as if he lived inside my talisman and needed me to see this memory first. It was of the day I was born, the first time he held me. I could see my little red, wrinkly, goo-covered self through his eyes. Only a parent could love that strange, alien-looking creature.

  My entire body warmed. My heart filled with a love that was greater than anything I had ever felt in my life. Looking down on my newborn self through my father’s eyes, I knew he would do anything for me, and he knew it too. By that time, he suspected Meglana was using him. He’d already made plans to leave my mother, but he never once thought of it again after that moment. He stayed for me.

  Tears leaked out of the corners of my eyes. I wanted to lie there and drown in that feeling forever, but I had work to do.

  Now I needed my father’s help again. Within his memories, I searched for a time when he was younger and just learning his magic. Darian had compared me to a pidge earlier without realizing that I was one. While I knew my father was a sorcerer, I didn’t think of myself in those terms often. I mean, how often does anyone think about the fact that they’re human or mage or sorcerer or pidge? You just are. Pidges couldn’t have magical offspring, which was why they were taboo—so taboo that there wasn’t much information about them. They were pariahs, which was why I had to keep it a secret.

  It didn’t make sense that a pidge would only have the same magic as a mage. If I could access sorcerer magic in my blood, it could give me an edge in the trials. Sure, my magic was already more powerful than normal, but I always thought of that as being because I had the entirety of my father’s magic in my talisman. There had to be magic I could perform that was inaccessible to mages.

  The main difference between mages and sorcerers was that mages had to have a magical object to ignite the spark of magic within them. Without an object to direct their magic, they couldn’t perform any. Sorcerers had magic running through their veins, so they didn’t require an outside object. Instead of a spark of magic, they had a current of it. I had already performed this magic once when I had called my talisman to me. If I’d been a pure mage, that would’ve been impossible.

  The only thing I knew sorcerers could do that mages couldn’t was teleport. Mages required teleportation rings, and they could only go to places they had been to before. A sorcerer could teleport much the same way Millhook could. They could go anywhere they wanted as long as there wasn’t a spell or charm keeping them from their destination.

  When I thought about teleportation, excitement leapt in my chest and the memory came to the forefront. The excitement was my father’s. Learning to port must be a milestone in a young sorcerer’s life.

  A woman stood next to a little boy. “Now, Marty, if this is going to work, you have to calm down. Teleporting requires focus. Now, I want you to picture where you want to go. Pick someplace close. Even though you can go almost anywhere, it’s easier to start with short distances and places you can clearly visualize. Close your eyes and picture a spot on the other side of the room. On the count of three, port there. Ready? One, two, three.”

  Marty opened his eyes and felt a twinge of frustration. He was exactly where he had started.

  “Don’t get discouraged. Don’t picture yourself traveling there; picture yourself already there. Also, don’t th
ink of it as something you want; think of it as something that is. Convince your magic that you’re there, and it will make it so.”

  This time, when my father opened his eyes, he was on the other side of the room. That seemed simple enough.

  I rose from the bed and tried to duplicate what I had seen. With my eyes closed, I pictured myself standing next to the table.

  Nothing. I opened my eyes to be sure, but I hadn’t moved an inch. I shook it out, took a deep breath, and tried again.

  Still nothing. Of course it would be different, more difficult than it had been for my father. I wasn’t a full sorceress. I was even different from the average pidge. After all, my mother had stripped my magical spark and put it in the talisman. There was no telling how my body interacted with magic compared to others.

  This entire exercise was stupid. Even if I learned how to teleport, I could never do it, not in any real way. If someone saw or caught on to the fact that I had appeared somewhere I shouldn’t be, my secret would be out. I’d be an outcast, which was even worse than being the Earth-raised freak child of an evil mage. If anyone at the CCS knew, I’d be kicked out of the agency. Without the resources of the CCS, I couldn’t track down my mother’s talismans or find out who the mole was.

  No matter how much easier it might be to pass the trials or even to perform my duties as a CCS agent with sorcerer magic, I couldn’t risk it, not until I had set right the wrongs my mother had done. Once the Directorate no longer had their claws inside the Council and the talismans my mother created were destroyed or in the custody of the CCS, I would be free to explore my sorcerer side to my heart’s content, but not before then.

  I wanted to return the talismans to the families of the sorcerers Meglana had killed to create them, but that was an impossibility. It would require revealing what she had done to the sorcerers, and once they knew, it would start an all-out war. For all I knew, that was the Directorate’s aim. They didn’t want peace with the sorcerers; they wanted to conquer them. They wanted a war, and there was no better way to start one than to make it known that mages had killed sorcerers and stolen their power.

  This went beyond my personal desires. The fate of two races depended on those talismans never being found by the Directorate.

  But no pressure. At any moment, I could be taken away and possibly die trying to pass the trials. I didn’t have time to fiddle around with wishful thinking. The best I could do was practice the skills I already had, to make them second nature.

  Screw Lilibet’s gift of a half-day off. I had training to do.

  Chapter 4

  I produced a force field to deflect the bolt of lightning coming toward me. Too late I realized I should’ve used a different shield, one that would’ve bounced the lightning back to my attacker. Instead, I threw out tendrils of energy that pulled the attacker to me.

  One advantage to being human was that physical fighting and tactics came more naturally to me since I had been exposed to them my entire life. The opposite was true of mages. Mage fights were fought at a distance, and it never failed to throw my poor opponent off guard when I brought them within close physical range.

  My right leg connected with Kellan’s calf, forcing him to the ground. My knee wedged between his shoulder blades, I reached for his wand and sent a blast of heat through my hand. His grip tightened on his wand, and he instinctively produced ice. It was a common mistake, one I loved to exploit. The intense heat from my hand formed steam that cut through the ice to Kellan’s hand. When faced with immense heat, the instinct was to produce cold, but in this instance—as I had learned the hard way—you needed to shield your hand. The steam didn’t burn me, but it forced Kellan’s hand open, and I snatched his wand before he could override his reflexes.

  “All right, all right, you’ve got me,” Kellan said. “What is it humans say? Uncle?”

  After I got to my feet, I offered Kellan my hand. His crush on me proved useful: he was the only person I dared ask to spar with me at this early hour. He’d walked in on me practicing yesterday with the dummies and had agreed to a practice session before work. “Hey, I’m not actually human. And no one really cries uncle, or at least no one other than six-year-old boys.”

  “You did well. Using my instincts and reflexes against me was a good strategy.”

  “I rely on fire too much.” Fire and ice remained the easiest things for me to control with my magic. They were familiar and made logical sense, but there were a plethora of options open to me. Offensive spells had proven the most difficult for me to habitually use. I still reached for the familiar elements when attacking. I tried to make up for it by mastering shields. It seemed to work so far, but I didn’t know how it would hold up in a real-life scenario or the trials.

  “True, but I don’t see that to be much of a problem except that fire isn’t very stealthy. Most mages don’t rely on the elements the way you do, so it won’t be as obvious to them.”

  “But Lilibet knows all of my crutches, and so do the other trainers. I think my trials will be crafted to punish me for relying on them.”

  “You’re overthinking this. The trials are just to make sure you’re ready for the field. They’re not intended to trap you. Don’t worry, I’m happy to keep sparring with you until you feel comfortable.” Kellan wore a cheesy grin and waggled his eyebrows.

  “Thanks. Let’s go again, and this time it’s an automatic forfeit for me if I use fire or water in any way.” Kellan may think the trials weren’t designed to trap me, but I didn’t believe it. Unlike him, I was an outsider. There were people who would love to see me fail, like Darian. CCS agent was a coveted position. The looks some of the other mages gave me made it clear they didn’t think it fair that someone who didn’t even know she was a mage until recently was given this opportunity. I intended to prove them wrong.

  “I admire what you’re trying to do, reaching out of your comfort zone, but it’s not wise to place such a restriction on yourself. You’d never do that on a mission. When you’re out there, your goal is to get the job done. It doesn’t matter how you do it. As long as you get what’s needed without compromising yourself, that’s all that matters. So let’s go again, but don’t second-guess what will happen at your trials. Just be you.”

  “And what”—Kellan and I both looked to the door at the intrusion—“pray tell, do you think you are doing?” Thaddeus’s deep voice filled the training room even though he didn’t raise his tone above a normal level. His ability to intimidate with his voice would be scary enough even if it hadn’t been matched with his foreboding appearance.

  “We were just practicing, sir,” Kellan said with what I thought might be a quiver in his voice. Out of all the Councilors, it had to be Thaddeus and Calista who oversaw the CCS. Calista I could handle, but Thaddeus I could never quite get comfortable around—and I didn’t know if I wanted to.

  Thaddeus held up his hand to silence Kellan. “I’m not speaking to you.”

  The red eyes that so startled me when I first met Thaddeus were just as frightening now. They didn’t leave me, not even to flit away and acknowledge Kellan’s presence. “I believe you were ordered to take it easy.”

  “Like he said, we’re just practicing, nothing too intense.” I wondered just how insulted he was that I would underestimate his intelligence while standing before him in a sweat-drenched shirt.

  “If this is what you consider obeying orders, then perhaps there’s no need to go through the trials.”

  I bit back my anger and frustration. “No, I can do it. I’m ready. Practicing every day is what a good agent does.”

  “Obviously you don’t feel ready, otherwise you wouldn’t need to disobey orders to practice.”

  “That’s not fair.” Why did he have to be such an ass? Every word he uttered rankled. “My entire future is on the line here. More than that, my life. People have died during the trials. I’m not going in there anything less than one hundred percent prepared, and that means using every moment to hone my skills.�
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  “So you think you know more than your trainers? You do need to be at your best, which means being well rested. You either have the skills at this point or you don’t. That’s what the trials are designed to figure out. If you’re down here exhausting yourself, then you’ll have nothing left to give when it counts.”

  “I’m just supposed to sit around and twiddle my thumbs and hope I don’t die? That doesn’t sound like a fighter to me.”

  The wand holster at his hip glowed pink; the exact hue of Lilibet’s eyes. A mage of his skill could perform magic without holding his wand as long as it was in contact with his body. I noticed too late to put up my defenses. He encircled my throat with a magical force and pulled me to him. His hot breath touched my cheek and strands of his dark shoulder-length hair fell forward as he bent his head to maintain eye contact. “You presume to know more about fighting than I do?”

  The angry scar bisecting the left side of his face stood out pale against his ruddy skin. That kind of scar came from a dark curse. Before he’d assumed Lilibet’s mother’s seat on the Council after her death, he had been a general. The scar was one of what I assumed to be many battle wounds he sustained during his time in the military. In that moment, I would’ve rather been struck by the curse that did that to his face than stand here under his menacing eyes and his dangerously low voice.

  Despite my fear, I matched his gaze. There was only one correct answer here, but I’d be damned if I’d give it with a bent head. “No, sir.”

  The magic at my throat loosened. “Good. Now get out of my sight, and I’ll try to forget this happened.”

  I rushed past him, not needing to be told twice.