His wild eyes narrowed, and the color rose in his cheeks. A wall of gray exploded from his body, barreling toward me with a force I hadn't seen from him before. At the last moment, I threw up a barrier spell, gritting my teeth as the pressure mounted between my ears.
Only this time—this time, his magic was less concentrated. With the crowd's growing cheers in the back of my mind, and the vision of Mora's blue eyes in the front of it, I searched for the cracks in his magic, the places where I could dig my own in and break him apart.
His magic released, dissipating around me in harmless, dark gray magical bursts. I straightened, facing him head-on and pleased to see his stance less confident, his breathing a little heavier than before.
But had it been enough?
"If you win," he said, stepping forward with something of a limp, "it's only because I wasn't at my best."
I had to laugh.
"And you won't become Guildmaster," he snarled, as he procured another spell. "No matter what these idiots think. It's mine."
"Whatever you say, Cyrus," I replied, forming my own magical reply. My magic was eager, ready to move. Tired of being kept inside and ready to do what it was made for—fighting. Defending. Winning.
And it was time to win.
I released magic in droves, hitting him as hard—if not harder—than he'd been hitting me. I dredged up every ounce of anger I'd held onto since my youth—anger that he'd been closer to my mother than I'd been, anger that he'd been given something I wanted by virtue of his birth, anger at my lot in life. And then I thought about Mora, about the new love I'd found with her, and New Salem. The five hundred souls in the crowd who were counting on me to save them.
A burst of new energy came from somewhere deep inside me, and I knew before it slammed into his body that it was the one.
Cyrus tumbled head over feet, landing on his back at the edge of our dome. He blinked once, twice, then his eyes rolled back in his head.
A loud roar of applause echoed from the stands as I waited for him to get up. Waited for the match to continue.
Instead, Alexandra appeared, a proud smile on her face.
"The match is over," she announced, her voice echoing once more. "Please welcome the two newest members of our Guild. Gavon and…well, when he wakes, Cyrus."
I couldn't help the sigh of relief that rumbled out of me. I'd done it—I was free. I'd survived a match against Cyrus and I was still standing. There would be a healing potion to imbibe once I left the ring, that was for sure. But it was over.
"Come," Alexandra said, glancing behind her at Cyrus. "Let's bring him back and enjoy a celebratory drink."
To be honest, the last thing I wanted was to return to Alexandra's house. But I allowed her to transport me there—to the library, where I collapsed gracelessly onto a chair.
"Here." A vial of white liquid was thrust under my nose.
"T-thank you," I said, uncorking it and drinking. "Where did you get this?"
"You aren't the only one who knows how to brew a potion," she replied, tipping another vial into Cyrus's open mouth. He grunted, blinking again, then fell back asleep. "Alas, it doesn't work the same for those who don't share your blood."
I licked my lips, the foul taste still lingering. "Since when do you make potions?"
"There's a lot about me you don't know," she said, conjuring a bottle and two glasses. She tipped the bottle and a blood red liquid swirled into the glasses.
I took one and sniffed hesitantly. "What is this?"
"Wine," she said, swirling the liquid in her glass. "Jones shared a glass with me when I was inducted, and I thought I'd continue the tradition with you."
We both sipped at the same time, and shared looks of disgust, although I could tell this liquid hadn't been addled by magic. "Where did you get it?"
"When we were banished, several hundred bottles made their way to this land," she said, picking up the bottle. "Sadly, I believe this is all that's left. The Guildmasters placed a charm on it to seal in the freshness."
"So why share it with me?"
She flicked her wrist, and Cyrus's comatose body disappeared, presumably to return to bed. "Because you're my son, Gavon. And I'm very proud of your performance today. To be fair, I wasn't convinced you'd be sitting here. But here you are." The corners of her mouth turned upward. "Very impressive how you exploited Cyrus's weaknesses."
I wished I could tell her it was Mora's idea, that she'd provided me with everything I'd needed, but now probably wasn't the time. "Thank you."
"We now have three Warriors in our Guild," she said. "Three members of the Council. You will have much more responsibility now, you know. I would like you to continue finding ways to improve our food supplies."
I nodded. "Yes, M—" I cleared my throat. "What shall I call you now that you are no longer my mistress?"
"Alexandra," she said, tilting her head to stare at me as though she'd never seen me before. "I've always seen a lot of myself in you. You were an observant child, and willing to discover answers for yourself rather than ask them. Not great qualities for a Warrior, and less so for an apprentice. But I think it gives you an advantage. You think of things that haven't yet been done. We'll need more of that thinking if we're going to survive."
A few sips of wine had warmed my cheeks considerably, and I wondered if Alexandra was simply rambling. But her clear brown eyes focused on me as she spoke next.
"Gavon, I want you to be my successor," she said quietly. "I no longer have confidence in Cyrus's ability to govern wisely or fairly. Not after his performance today. Not after the cruel things I've heard from the villagers."
"Have you told him this yourself?"
"No," she said. "I believe he would accuse me of nepotism, and of being a soft Guildmaster. Even if I offered all the reasons I've just shared with you, the Council would take his side. They value strength over intellect. Therefore, I must be cautious with how I voice my preferences."
"What can the Council do?" I asked. "You're Guildmaster. And a Warrior."
She chuckled. "You'll find as you grow older that being a Warrior weighs about as much as words do. The people respect us because we've always been in charge."
"And attack spells," I added.
"Even those…one Warrior against the entire village?" She quirked a brow.
I'd never considered those odds. "Perhaps."
"But there's no reason for them to revolt. We provide them with what they need, they adhere to their traditions and customs."
I swallowed. If I told Alexandra about the tear, our village would have fresh food, medicine, and the like. But if, as Alexandra said, they were averse to change, would they even accept it? I couldn't see them driving cars or any of the other things Mora did.
"These are your people, too," she said. "Your Warrior Magic is a gift. If you turn your back on them, you will be wasting your talents."
"Are you planning on stepping down soon?" I asked.
"No, not soon," she said with a smile. "But one never knows when the grip of death will reach for them, do they?"
I nodded, putting down my glass. "I think…." I paused, smiling to myself. "I don't have to tell you where I'm going anymore, do I?"
"It would be nice to see you every once in a while," she replied with a knowing look. "I am still your—"
Whatever she said after that, I didn't hear, because I'd already transported to the tear.
Nineteen
I landed on the other side of the tear and promptly fell to my knees. The healing potion might've taken care of my bruises and cuts, but I was still weak. The sun was setting over the ocean, and I took a moment to stare at it, relishing the fact that I'd survived. I was still alive.
Now, if only I could get my girl back.
I closed my eyes and searched for her, finding her signature almost immediately. The effort of transporting to her was too much, so I had to hope she still had that charm on the tear and would know when I crossed it.
I lay ther
e for so long I must've fallen asleep, because the next thing I knew, disembodied hands were shaking me awake.
"Gavon! Oh my God, Gavon!"
"Wha…?" I said, blinking as her face came into focus. "Mora, I'm glad you came to see me."
"Are you dying?" she cried, her eyes filled with tears. "You're so weak! What happened?"
"Oh, no," I said, cupping her face. "I'm fine. Just…very tired. I won."
"You won?"
I nodded, pulling her down to lie on my chest. Sleep with her sounded so very nice. "I did. But it was very hard, so I'm very tired. I just wanted to see you." I opened my eyes. "Wait…what happened with your clan?"
"They voted last night to give the final say to Ashley," she said, her brow furrowing as she raised her head to look at me. I winced as she pressed on a spot on my forehead; perhaps the healing potion hadn't worked as well as I'd thought.
"And what did Ashley say?" I asked after an exceptionally long pause.
"He wants to talk to you," she said. "Are you up for that? Do you need…something? Advil? Coffee? Drugs?"
I shook my head. "I can speak with him now. I don't want to keep him waiting. I'll be fine, I promise. But…if you don't mind…could you do the transporting?"
"Oh, um…" She chewed her lip. "I kind of can't. But I can drive us there."
I was certainly awake by the time we'd finished "driving." I'd never been in a car before, and I was quite sure I would never be in one again. Not with the lights of machines driving toward us, the metal boxes swerving this way and that, and the speeds Mora was going.
"It's just like transporting," she said, unbuckling the restraint she'd pressed on me. "Oh, you poor baby."
I unclenched my fingers from around the seat and exhaled. "That is nothing like transporting."
"Are you gonna be all right?" She leaned across the seat and kissed me on the cheek. "C'mon, let's get you inside before my mom finds out I drove you in her car."
She opened the door for me, as I was woefully confused how the mechanism worked, and held my hand as we walked up to a large gray house. There was an audience for my walk to the Clanmaster's house. Groups of people sat in chairs on green lawns next door, others leaned on fences, and still others were just walking down the street. All of them magical, and all of them, I assumed, part of Mora's clan. And I was hopelessly out of my element. Perhaps prostrating myself on the ground in front of her great-uncle would do the trick.
Irene sat in a chair in the front room, her lips pressed into a thin line as we walked through the door. Mora hesitated for a moment, as if she wanted to say something. Then she apparently thought better of it and instead she led me up a very loud, creaky staircase. We padded quietly down a long hallway filled with paintings of past magicals, including, surprisingly, a painting of John Chase, gazing down on me as if I'd done something wrong.
"Go wait in there," Mora said, adjusting my shirt nervously. "Just…be yourself."
"I will," I said, leaning down to kiss her once more. Then, knowing it might be the last time, I deepened the kiss. "I still want to marry you, by the way."
"And I still think I'm seventeen," she replied, but there was a smile in her eyes. "Go on, he'll be up in a second."
I nodded and wished she were coming in with me. But this journey I'd have to take on my own.
I walked inside to an empty office. The sheer number of books took my breath away, and despite my better instincts, I pulled one off the shelf and opened it.
"You're a fan of reading, I take it," said an old, weathered voice. Mora's Uncle Ashley, I presumed, had transported into the center of the library. "I like that in a person. Kids these days just don't appreciate the knowledge people already have."
I smiled at him and he beamed back. I could already tell this was going to go better than with Mora's mother. He was much older than anyone in New Salem. Even Master Jones had been only in his mid-fifties, but this man had to be at least eighty. His power had diminished somewhat, like a dimming light, but it was still formidable—bolstered by the stronger members of his clan. Unlike Irene, Ashley didn't show off his power, or use it to intimidate me. He smiled at me almost quizzically, as if I were a curiosity to be unpacked.
"So, Gavon. My niece Irene tells me you're here to kill us all. My great niece Mora says she's in love with you. Which of them should I believe?"
I cleared my throat, trying not to look too pleased that Mora had said she was in love with me. "I would answer that question, but you'd think me biased."
He laughed, a sound that put me at ease. "Well, I will say one thing: you've helped her improve her grades. I spoke with Rosemary down at the library, and she was highly complimentary. Most of the boys Mora runs around with would rather study other things with her. That tells me you're a good man, or will be soon."
"I do love her," I said, a little hotly. "I don't know what I've done to earn Irene's hatred."
"Exist? Threaten her campaign to lead?" He sighed wearily, sitting down in his chair with a loud groan. "It's all for naught. I don't believe Irene will be taking over for Clan Carrigan. She's too authoritarian for us, too focused on traditional magic. That poor little girl of hers, Jeanie, isn't even allowed to study magical theory—I'm sure you noticed that she'll suffer from a lack of magic after her fifteenth birthday."
I smiled. "Even a magical without much can always grow a little with practice."
"Preaching to the choir, my boy." At my perplexed expression, he laughed. "Mora tells me you've had some trouble adjusting to the world here. It seems your village was stuck in the seventeenth century."
"Just a bit," I admitted sheepishly, but my gaze went to the books on the shelves.
"And I find myself curious about the world you come from." He leaned forward, piercing me with eyes similar to Mora's. "Tell me of our magical brethren in New Salem."
I told him what I could of the world I'd grown up in, of my mother the Guildmaster and the Council. About the frigid nights and the dark days when the wind blew hard. How everything I knew came from books dated nearly three hundred years in the past. But when it came time to talk about the tear, I stumbled over my words. I hated admitting that I'd simply thrown together a potion and it had worked, but it was the truth.
"And have you informed your Guildmaster of this tear?" He chuckled. "I only assume not, as we haven't seen anyone cross through it."
"No, I haven't."
"Would you bring your clansmen into our world, then? Or would you abandon them to live here permanently?"
It had seemed such an easy answer a few days ago. But knowing my mother wanted me to take over for her, knowing she entrusted me with the livelihood of five hundred souls, knowing what Cyrus might do to them if he were in charge instead of me…
"No," I said with a firm shake of my head. "I suppose I'd try to balance both. I don't want to leave them to the mercy of Cyrus, but…somehow I don't think they'd be allowed to live here."
"I'll be honest with you, Gavon. If you brought them here, they would introduce a new magical element into our world. Or, I should say, an old element. You're clearly not bound by the rules of the Danvers Accord. The rest of New Salem wouldn't be as well. And while I don't really mind a few Enchanters or Charmers—and we could possibly use some healers—the Warriors are what concerns me. You, Gavon, don't concern me. You seem the kind of man who'd use his magic to protect. Others? I don't have that level of faith."
I nodded slowly. Cyrus immediately sprang to mind. "So you're saying to let them live as they are? Don't tell them about the tear?"
"Close the tear, Gavon," he said. "It will only lead to trouble."
I sat back in the chair. While I understood what he was saying, part of me couldn't agree with it. Couldn't agree to condemn my people to a life of never seeing the sun, never hearing the ocean. Of dying from curable diseases like magical rot. And we numbered in the hundreds—what harm could that do?
"I don't really know what I did," I said, buying myself some time. "How
I created the tear, how to mend it…"
"Then I suggest you spend some time in my library trying to figure it out." He rose. "In the meantime, I believe my great niece is dying to know whether I'll allow you to continue dating."
I couldn't help the excitement on my face. "And?"
"I believe we may have some trouble if you break her poor heart," he said. "Although her previous dating history suggests you might be in more danger than she is."
I grinned. "I plan to marry her."
"Well, when that time comes, I'll be the first in line to congratulate you both." He rose. "But in the meantime, as a condition of your continued presence in this clan, you must provide me regular updates on your progress to close the tear."
I nodded. "I will. Perhaps…you could help me know where to look?"
He beamed. "It would be my pleasure."
"How'd it go?" Mora asked, standing as I walked out of the office.
"I am not banished," I said with a grin.
"I figured, since you're standing here." She practically flew into my arms, and I crushed her to me as I transported us both to our private beach with the tear. For now, I wanted to celebrate, and I didn't want an audience.
Part 2
devilry
Twenty
"And the brewers?"
"They're doing exceptionally well," Humbert said with a bright smile on her face. "Councilman McKinnon's latest concoction seems to be much better than the last batch."
Humbert smiled at me, but I offered nothing but a nod in response. Last week, I'd tried to introduce a higher-quality beverage than the watered-down, two-dollar beer I'd been supplying for several years. Sadly, the inhabitants of New Salem didn't seem to like the tartness of an IPA. So this week, I'd returned with a higher quality lager—still an improvement over what they were used to.
What had started as breadcrumbs had grown into an intricate lie about seeds, charms, enchantments, and more. As a result, the New Salem diet flourished into one rich in fruits, vegetables, and protein. The annual census reported steep declines in magical rots and stillborn children, furthering my conclusion that the cause of it was the lack of nutrition. The villagers seemed happier, their magic more potent, and I couldn't have been more pleased.
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