I sat on the shifting sands, the sound of the water pushing against the sand a soothing backdrop to my thoughts. I wasn't sure what I was waiting for. More magicals? But there was nothing more than the waves and a cool breeze.
I gazed at the beautiful stars in the sky, my heart racing in my chest. Fear, excitement, curiosity—every emotion I could name—coursed through me. I had done what others couldn't. I'd broken through the magic that had bound us to this world and returned to the realm of our ancestors.
I wanted more of it.
One magical woman wasn't going to keep me from exploring every inch of this world. I closed my eyes and let my magic travel as far as it could—visions of places completely unfamiliar coming to my senses. Transporting had never felt so freeing before; there were so many options. Where would I begin?
A gentle tug brought me back to reality. Alexandra was sending feelers for me to return to the Manor. It appeared her control over my magic extended beyond the tear, unfortunately. If I didn't return immediately, she would come looking for me. And since I wasn't quite ready to share this beautiful new world with anyone else, I returned to New Salem.
Four
"You're distracted this morning, Gavon." Alexandra peered at me from the head of the table. "Something on your mind?"
Oh, how little she knew. She probably thought my silence the result of petulance—anger at her for not allowing me an induction match. I'd arrived back at the Manor to a silent house and woken to the same. I'd rushed through my morning chores with vigor, impervious to Cyrus' digs about his impending induction match. Now, more than ever, it was more important for me to get out of this apprenticeship.
"My apologies, Mistress. Did I miss a question?" I said, plastering on the most pleasant smile I could muster.
"I simply noticed your distraction, nothing more." She turned to Cyrus seated across from me. "We shall spar at midday."
"We?" he said, glancing in my direction.
She nodded and tapped her napkin against her lip. "Since it's clear Gavon will not be inducted soon, we will need to continue your preparations."
If she expected a rise from me, she was mistaken. It was easy to escape into the recesses of my mind and imagine the new world I would get to explore as soon as I was free of her grip. Not to conquer it, as Cyrus would, but to appreciate it. To visit the places I'd only read about. To sit on the banks of the ocean once more and see every shade of blue. To gaze upon the stars and try to find one of those constellations. To see Venice, Rome, London.
"Gavon." Alexandra's voice cut through my daydream once more. "Are you listening?"
"I apologize," I said, averting my gaze to look chastened.
"Fetch the Healer," she said with a look of disgust. "See if he's healthy enough to heal me after our morning session so that we may spar again this afternoon."
I nodded. "And if he isn't?"
"Then I suppose you may brew one of those infernal potions," she said, waving her hand.
"Yes, ma'am," I said, dreading the number of chores. I wanted to get back to my new world.
"Cyrus, finish your meal and meet me in the sparring ring." She disappeared in a puff of purple, leaving us to our usual after-meal conversation.
"Such a shame," Cyrus said with a shrug. "It appears you'll be destined for potion-making your whole life. What a fate for a Warrior."
I bit my tongue so as not to spill the secret of the newfound world. When it was safely kept in the back of my mind, I responded with, "Unfortunately, any potion I make for you would be less potent. There's a correlation between magic and family." I paused before landing the blow. "Alexandra and I share the same blood, you see, and that makes all the difference."
Before Cyrus could retort with something equally biting (or a spell), I transported out of the house to the center of the town. It was rare I got the last word, so I considered that a good omen for the rest of the day.
First, I had the dubious task of visiting the sick house. Magical rot was a vicious disease that slowly drained the magic, and then the life, from a magical. It was an affliction of the middle aged, mostly. It was rare for a magical to live past fifty.
I covered my mouth with a kerchief as I entered the dark space. The stench of death was everywhere, but so was the earthy smell of the rot. Dying magicals lined the room on makeshift beds made of hay with a single sheet atop them. They gasped for air through purple-tinged lips, black, inky lines drawing lower down their necks. Some were well enough to take food, others were just waiting for death.
Councilman Perry lay on one of the cots, gasping for breath as he stared at the ceiling. I supposed that explained why he'd been missing from our match. At least Cyrus wouldn't have to fight for a spot.
A woman was crying from the other room and I ventured closer. It didn't sound like the normal dying sounds—rather, a painful whimpering. I peeled back the curtain to see a young girl not much older than I with her legs spread. She was biting down on a stick, her face shiny with sweat. An older woman knelt before her, and although I couldn't see exactly, I had an idea what was going on.
"Wh-what is it?" the new mother whispered.
"Enchanter," the woman said. "But stillborn."
The girl's eyes filled with tears and then she fainted—either from exhaustion or grief. But the baby was squirming—it was very much alive. There was no magical signature, which meant…
"Smother it," came the weary directive from the midwife. She handed the baby to another older woman, who left the room with it. I swallowed the sickness in my stomach. It was a mercy, then, that the girl would believe her child had died.
"Can I help you?"
I jumped at the voice, turning to see the mistress of the sick house staring down at me with beady eyes. I'd heard once that she and Alexandra shared a mother, which would make her my aunt, I supposed. They certainly shared the same disgust for me.
"I'm looking for the Healer," I said, finding my tongue.
"He is dead," she said, lifting her chin higher. "Died three weeks ago."
"Oh," I said, with a soft exhalation. "I will inform the Guildmaster."
The woman raised a brow. "She was already informed. She was here when it happened."
That was curious, but I didn't feel like pressing further. With a soft thank you, I hastened from the sick house, needing to breathe fresh air and rinse the soft cries of the now-dead baby out of my ears.
When I returned to the house, Alexandra was in the library, lounging on her chair and nursing a rather large bruise on her forehead, and a cut on her lip. Without saying a word, I summoned the healing potion and handed her the vial.
"What did you see at the sick house, Gavon?" she asked, her voice weak.
"I saw…" Should I tell the truth? Would she think me weak to worry about the new mother and her child? "The Healer is dead. Councilman Perry is close as well."
"Is that all?"
I finally turned, tempering my tongue before it got the better of me again. "I'm not sure what I should say, Mistress."
"Did the girl Ann give birth to her child?"
My mouth fell open. "Sh-she did. But it was a Potion-maker."
Alexandra nodded. "I knew as much. Elise told her it was stillborn, did she not?"
Again, I could scarcely believe my ears. "Yes, she did."
"We are cursed with one Potion-maker for every six births—and of the remaining five, many more are born dead." She looked at the vial in her hand then tossed it into the fire. "I believe it is part of the curse John Chase laid upon us."
I didn't dare ask if she considered not killing Potion-makers; there were some lines that even I didn't cross.
"Our village is dying, Gavon. How the village celebrated when you and Cyrus were born. But not a single Warrior has been born since. Before we were banished, our numbers were in the hundreds of thousands. Now? Only three." She sighed as the purple bruise faded.
"Is that why you sent me to the sick house?" I asked. "To witness the birth?"
<
br /> "I wanted you to think very clearly about your decision not to be Guildmaster," she said. "What might you do differently if you were responsible for these five hundred souls?"
I honestly didn't have an answer, because it was never something I'd thought about. "But Cyrus—"
"Ah, Cyrus," she said with a soft chuckle. "My dear apprentice, who right now is on the prowl for another girl to lie with." Her sharp eyes pierced me. "That girl? Ann? That was Cyrus' child she gave birth to."
I frowned. "Did he know?"
"He would've known if it was a Warrior, I'm sure." She pushed herself upright and rubbed her temple. "I believe he's had three to survive birth so far."
Three children. It hardly seemed possible.
"I have watched Cyrus grow from a precocious child into a man that I hardly recognize. He's callous, he's cruel. He only cares for people who can give him something in return. Is that the kind of man you wish to lead this Guild?"
I didn't know what to say. I'd never thought I had a choice in the matter. "Are you saying you'd rather I be Guildmaster?"
"I would like to see you fight for it," she said, coming to stand. "Even though I didn't raise you, you're still my son. The product of my bloodline."
"Then why did you decide against my induction match?" I asked.
"Perhaps I wanted to see your reaction to it," she said with a coy smile. "It's not my desire to keep you in my house for longer than necessary. After all…" She placed her long, white fingers against the black fabric of her hips. "Cyrus isn't the only young Warrior in need of coupling. You, my son, have a legacy to continue."
"I'll do my best."
"See that you do," she said. "You will complete all the chores today while Cyrus and I spar."
"Yes, ma'am," I said, dipping my head. "And if I may ask—"
"I haven't changed my mind," she said. "When I can look upon you without embarrassment, I'll reconsider your induction."
As a Warrior, a mother's love was never something I'd experienced. So Alexandra's comment to me slid off my back like water. Besides that, as much as I cared what happened to the villagers in New Salem, I had other things on my mind. Greater things.
I sped through my afternoon chores. Alexandra was gone, so I used magic to scrub the floors and windows, making them sparkle in the drab light. As I worked, I thought about all the things I wanted to see, writing a list to myself. Rome was the top of my list, as was Athens, Alexandria—all the great places of knowledge that existed in my books. I'd seen the sea briefly the day before. But today I would jump in the water. I would find myself a piece of actual bread, comparing the flavor to that which was magically created.
Speaking of bread, I would have to bring a small piece to that young Enchanter. The remnants of real bread had long since been used, and the morsels they used to craft bread were nothing more than using magic to build more magic. Perhaps one day, when I understood this new world, I would have fresh loaves for every belly in my village.
But I was a long way from that. In just the few minutes I'd spent there, I'd been completely overwhelmed with new changes. I wanted to understand everything first, then…perhaps I'd tell them.
Perhaps.
When the house sparkled, I transported to the other end of New Salem, grateful that the tear remained as vicious and unrelenting as it'd been the day before. Without any trace of fear, I walked into it and fell into the new world.
Five
Bright light assaulted my eyes, and for a moment, I thought I was dying. But slowly, my eyes adjusted to the light. Heat seeped through the fibers of my shirt, much like a warming spell. Sweat broke out on the back of my neck and my wool socks became uncomfortable in my black boots.
But all of that was nothing compared to the view.
What had been dark and beautiful was now blue—the most vibrant color I'd ever seen. The water glittered in the light like sparks off an attack spell. And the water, oh, how it moved. Rushing toward the brown sand with unlimited energy, then slowly rolling back to the depths. It was so vast, so infinite. Tears welled in my eyes. There were no barriers, no ends. Nothing to stop me from walking to every corner of this land and exploring everything it had to offer.
I struggled over the sand, marveling how it gave way under my feet, until the terrain changed to the blacktopped hard surface I'd seen the night before.
A loud blaring caught me by surprise, and a giant box-like carriage barreled toward me. I transported myself out of the way just in time, but my heart pounded all the same. The monstrosity was followed by three smaller ones, each whizzing by me as fast as an attack spell. I waited for more to come, but heard nothing, so I continued on my way.
I wanted to avoid that girl and her mother at all costs, and even felt something of a barrier spell on my consciousness when I tried to recall where I'd been taken. It was a pitiful spell, easily breakable if I put my mind to it, but I opted to let it stand. I didn't feel like looking for trouble.
After a while of walking along the black road, I came into the village—or what I could only suppose was a village. Houses made of red bricks rose two stories in the air with carriages of different sizes and shapes parked out front.
I craned my neck to examine them closer, when fevered whispering reached my ears. I turned as a couple openly stared at me, scampering away when they caught me looking. But it was I who stared at them—they were nonmagical. As was everyone else on the street.
It was the oddest sensation, as if the living, breathing humans walking by didn't have souls. Even the Potion-makers had the faintest magical signature, and when Cyrus was magically bound, I could still sense his presence. But there was nothing in these people. No wonder my ancestors thought them inferior.
I, however, was fascinated. Having grown up with magic in every aspect of my life, I'd never once considered what it might be not to have it. To have to walk great distances instead of transporting. To get up and look for something if I couldn't find it. From what I could see, the nonmagicals had been able to accomplish plenty without it.
Another group walked by, giggling and pointing at me as they passed. Following their gaze, I realized my clothes—black cloak, black leather boots, black pants—seemed a little out of place here. The other men on the street wore white shoes and bare legs. I was still observing the world, but I would be much more comfortable if I changed. So, I ducked into a dark space between two buildings and observed the passersby—specifically the men. Most wore shirts with short sleeves and pants cut off at the knee.
With a quick charm, I mimicked a set of clothes. The material breathed much easier than the wool, but the feel of a starchy collar against my neck and a breeze up my pants was strange. Even the shoes—brown leather without socks—made for a different gait. The last piece was a hat—similar to the one a young man was wearing across the street. At least now I could walk without the bright sun in my eyes.
Confident that I had built myself a timelier outfit, I strode out into the sunlight once more. Now, ignored by the townsfolk, I took my place beside them.
The carriages that had frightened me earlier now rolled along slowly, stopping at intersections and allowing other carriages to pass. I watched the dance for a while, amazed at how everything worked without magical interference. I took out my notebook and jotted down observations—a green light meant the queued cars could move forward—a red meant they stopped. After a few moments, I still couldn't figure out the yellow light, but I left a note to investigate further.
I explored the village shops. One assaulting my senses with a barrage of smells that gave me a headache. Another seemed to be a place where the nonmagicals got their hair trimmed. Still another had blinking windows that displayed the same person in every one. I was mesmerized as they mimicked each other in perfect synchronization, but hurried out of the shop when a man stopped to ask me what I was interested in.
Finally, I spotted a place I understood—the library.
A cool breeze blew against my face—the en
tire library seemed to be in some kind of a permanent winter, but after the heat outside, I wasn't too upset by it. Not with the sight of thousands of books—perhaps hundreds of thousands—all lined up in rows and columns.
How could so many books exist? I'd thought Alexandra's library daunting. But this? There would be no way I could read every book in this library in my lifetime. Just thinking about all the knowledge found in this one building took my breath away.
I wandered to the stacks, running my finger along the spines and reading every one. Economics, science, something about a man named Ronald Reagan. Seeing books just fueled my thirst for more knowledge. I had no idea where to begin with it all; I could spend my entire life on this one bookshelf.
I pulled a book off the shelf, Introduction to Economics, and quickly scanned the front cover. Which was when I heard a sharp intake of breath on the other side of the stack.
I looked between the books and saw a pair of familiar blue eyes staring back at me.
"You're back," she said.
"H-hello again," I said, unsure why I was nervous to see her. Her magic was still bound tightly, and she carried no other weapon I could see. She chewed on a pink lip, surveying me with a mix of apprehension and curiosity.
"I'm supposed to tell my mom that I saw you," she said. "The whole clan is looking for you."
"Are they?" I looked around, expecting more magicals to appear. "Why?"
"You're evil or something," she said with a shrug.
"E-evil?" I blinked; I was the least deserving of that moniker. "I told you I'm not here to harm you. I told your mother that, as well."
She huffed and disappeared between the books, reappearing around the corner. Yet again, she wore the shortest pants I'd ever seen, and a shirt with nothing but two thin straps keeping it on her frame.
"What are you even doing here?" she asked, placing a hand on her hip. Her nails were…green? "Like, actually. What are you doing here?"
"Right now…" I motioned to the book. "I thought I might find out what economics are."
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