by K. Ferrin
Magicless’ heart sank. She won’t be able to stop him.
There were stories of mages becoming lost—the mages called it losian—unable to find their way back from whatever magic they wielded. It was rare, he knew that much—he’d never heard of it actually happening, only heard the stories passed down from generation to generation. The stories said there was no getting them back. You had to kill them to stop them. He had known Jobin his entire life. They were not friends—Magicless didn’t really have any of those—but the thought of having to kill him twisted his gut.
He watched, helpless, at the battle of wills unfolding in front of him. A stalemate held for several moments, and then he noticed the bluish shield surrounding Alekka begin to change. A bulge formed at the front facing toward Jobin, and began reaching out toward him, tunneling through the flames of his magefire and moving toward his hands. Another stream of magic emerged from behind Jobin, engulfing him in ice. Magicless craned his neck and saw the tall, elegant form of Elisa approaching Jobin from behind, her magic blending and combining with Alekka’s to encase Jobin in layer after layer of thick ice, blocking his fire and, with any luck, cooling his rage.
It still won’t be enough, Magicless thought, his hands rhythmically clenching and relaxing, over and over. He darted out into the street once more, pulled his sword and a knife from the body of the fallen Rager, and then stood, watching. If Jobin breaks from their encasement, I’ll be immolated where I stand, weapons or no. He stood watch for Ragers, knowing the three mages were deeply involved in their magic and completely unaware of anything outside of that.
Despite the ice streaming from their fingers, both women were drenched in sweat from the effort of maintaining the encasement. Magicless may not have been privy to magical education while in school but he knew full well that any sustained magical output came at a price. They would not be able to hold on for much longer, but Jobin’s fire continued to rage within, melting the ice almost as quickly as Alekka and Elisa could form it, and the flaming remains of Aclay battered their shield with heat from the outside. Jobin would outlast them both, Magicless was certain of it.
Magicless sprinted to the three mages, reversing his sword in his grip. “On the count of three, drop the ice,” he shouted. “I’ll knock him unconscious. It’s the only way.”
“Fool,” Elisa shot back, keeping her eyes on Jobin. “He’ll burn you in an instant without protection.” Magicless swallowed around the frustration and shame the scorn in her voice dredged up inside of him and pressed on.
“You can shield me. I’ll need only an instant.”
“You know nothing.” Elisa growled. “Go away, Magicless. Leave this to the mages. We have no need of you.”
Each word from Elisa’s mouth scorched him more severely than fire, but he stood his ground. “He will outlast both of you and you know it. You cannot beat him. This is the only way we might save him.”
Elisa flinched as a tendril of Jobin’s fire snaked terrifyingly close to breaking through her shield. On the opposite side, Alekka’s shield was holding fast, but her eyes were wide with fear and her limbs were starting to shake. The inner chamber that contained Jobin was nothing but a raging inferno, his form lost in the roiling flames. Magicless had no idea if Jobin was even still whole inside the flames, but if the magefire raged on, he thought he must be.
“He’s right, Elisa.” Alekka called across the forcefield, her expression imploring. “We can’t hold him indefinitely, he is stronger than both of us. We’ll drop on the count of three. Micah, I’ll shield you, but you’ll have only a moment before his fire breaks through the ward. I cannot hold on any longer than that.”
Elisa grunted in a mixture of contempt and exhaustion, but nodded acceptance. “It’s your life. If you want to throw it away, that’s your choice. Makes no difference to me. I can protect myself from this idiot,” Elisa said, pointing her chin at Jobin. Magicless could see the cold indifference in her eyes. He shrugged off her disregard, squared his shoulders, and took a deep, steadying breath.
“One…two…three!”
Alekka and Elisa dropped their ice, and an explosion of heat flung smoke and chunks of steaming ice wildly in every direction. Magicless didn’t pause. He jumped in and knocked Jobin squarely on the back of the head with the butt of his sword.
Jobin’s eyes rolled back into his head and his body folded to the ground as Alekka’s shield dropped. Magicless felt a last burst of scalding air wash over him before Jobin’s magefire guttered and then, all at once, was gone.
The three stood, panting and weak-limbed, over the crumpled form of Jobin. Nothing of their town remained, and anyone still alive had fled. The Ragers and Ghosts were gone. It was over.
Magicless’ eyes met Alekka’s. The remains of Aclay blazed around them—smoke boiled and fire crackled, and beneath the raging noise lurked an emptiness deeper than Magicless had ever believed possible. They had lost. They were responsible for the absolute destruction of their town, their homes, the deaths of who knew how many of their townsfolk. Magicless let his weapons drop from limp hands as he fell to his knees onto the dirt road. He felt as if the ground had opened up underneath him and swallowed him whole. For a time, he could hear and see nothing but blackness.
“Well. That was some plan you idiots came up with. I told you it would never work,” she spat. Elisa was looking at Alekka, who had come to sit beside Magicless in the road. Never mind that Alekka had argued relentlessly against the plan to begin with—Elisa had put no such effort into dissuading the townsfolk from this path.
“Not now, Elisa, please,” Alekka sighed, rubbing a soot-covered hand across her face. “Let’s get Jobin to the cave. We can talk after we bind him.”
Bind him? Surely…? Magicless thought, but kept his mouth shut. This was mage business, and he knew Elisa would soundly dismiss any opinion he voiced.
Elisa raised her nose into the air and gave a sniff. “I cannot lift him.”
Alekka looked to Magicless, and he could see she didn’t have the strength left for the task either. Jobin’s display had tapped them both out, and they were two of the strongest mages in Aclay.
Magicless rose, pushed his sword into its scabbard, and put out a hand to Alekka. She took it and he pulled her to her feet. He heard Elisa make a sound of disgust in the back of her throat but chose to ignore her as he slung Jobin over his shoulder. He may not have been born with magic, but he had plenty of muscle—one of the benefits of years of working a forge.
“Alekka, what happens if he wakes up before he’s bound?” He asked as they began walking.
“He’ll wake in the same state he was in when you knocked him out, Micah. If he wakes up before we bind him he’ll kill every one of us, and likely himself.”
Magicless said nothing in return. He didn’t need to. He turned and began the long walk to the cave, with Elisa and Alekka sweeping the blackened remains of Aclay for survivors as they went. With each step Magicless felt heavier, his feet dragging and his head hanging loosely on his shoulders under Jobin’s dead weight. There was not a building left standing. There were bodies everywhere. People he had known his entire life lay burned or torn to pieces or worse. Men, women, children—it made no difference to the Ragers. Magicless flinched at every body they passed, hoping against hope that he wouldn’t see the faces of his mother and father starting lifelessly back at him.
It was all our fault.
They had caused this destruction with their foolish ideas of rebellion. If they had listened to the elders or to Alekka, the dead would still be living. These houses would still be standing. Many new babes would have lost their mothers, but would still have the rest of their family to raise them. How many wouldn’t even have that now?
“I supported her. I was a fool. I should have listened to Alekka.”
The words tumbled out of his mouth before he could stop them, his voice hoarse from smoke and repressed emotion. He stopped, setting Jobin down on a grassy patch to the side of the path the
y walked. Alekka stopped as well, grabbing him by his arm and pulling him around until she was staring right into his eyes. He hadn’t even realized she was there.
“You listen to me, Micah. Change does not come without a price.” She swallowed and looked away for a moment before bringing her eyes slowly back to his face. Her eyes are beautiful, thought Magicless, feeling as if someone else were thinking his thoughts, breathing his air, and standing on the scorched earth with his feet.
Alekka pressed on. “I understand your pain and I share it, but know this—you were right. You were all right. He must be stopped. This can’t continue. I know that now. The world cannot abide this pain…this profound imbalance.”
“Damn you and your metaphysical meanderings, Alekka!” said Magicless, sudden rage boiling up inside him where seconds before there had been emptiness. “Look around you. Aclay is burned. Everyone we knew, everyone we loved, is dead!”
“Oh...a little lovers quarrel, is it?” Elisa said, eyes narrowing as she approached.
Alekka dropped her hand from Magicless’ arm, and he stumbled slightly before righting himself. He hadn’t realized how much strength she’d been lending him to stay upright.
“Let’s keep moving,” he said firmly, once again hoisting Jobin back onto his shoulders. “We need to get him bound.” He strode away from them both without another word.
“So the weak one commands us now? Look how one small Rager kill and displays of physical strength have exaggerated his self-importance. Disgusting,” Elisa continued. Maybe this was her way of processing her own pain, or simply her inability to keep herself from laying into Magicless at every opportunity—either way, her cold words did little to improve Magicless’ state of mind.
“It was two. I killed two,” Magicless retorted, feeling petty for taking her bait, but not able to stem his words.
“Oh shut up, Elisa,” Alekka shot back, surprising them both into silence. She never lost her temper. Alekka heaved a sigh, gave Elisa a long, steady look, and followed Magicless without another word. Elisa’s eyes widened and then narrowed dangerously, but she followed in silence.
They searched Aclay and the surrounding fields for what seemed like hours, but they found no other survivors. The sky turned a violent shade of red as the sun began to fall below the horizon. Magicless had forgotten what it felt like when every breath was not agony and his eyes didn’t burn and water endlessly.
Exhaustion—and Jobin’s unconscious bulk—weighed Magicless down. His focus narrowed to the simple task of putting one foot in front of the other. Step. Step. Breath. Step. Step. Breath. He was dimly aware of Elisa and Alekka continuing their sweeps in case any had fallen on the road to the cave. They appeared, vanished, and reappeared again but Magicless barely noticed.
At one point he realized that the two women had stopped, and he stumbled to a halt as well, hearing sobbing behind him. He turned to see Alekka kneeling before a bloodied figure at the side of the road that seemed to be the source of the sobs. With a jolt he realized it was Leali, and he felt a flash of sympathy for the raw cries shaking her normally powerful form. He could not set Jobin down and stop walking, though—he knew that if he did, he’d never be able to start again.
After what seemed an eternity, Magicless felt weight lift from his shoulders. He stopped in alarm, thinking he had dropped Jobin in his exhaustion. Leali stood before him, her face bloody, smeared with soot and streaked with tears. Her eyes were dry now, but empty.
“I will take him,” she said gently. “Thank you, Magicless.”
He turned to see Jobin floating about two feet above the ground on the road in front of him, limned in a ghostly light. A thin tendril of that light trailed up to Leali’s right hand and wrapped around her palm.
“Are you certain, Leali?” He asked gently, somewhat abashed by her gratitude.
“You need a rest more than I do,” she said, looking pointedly at the blood still seeping from the wound on his thigh. She turned and followed Jobin’s floating form as she moved toward the cave.
“Are you alright?” Alekka had appeared at Magicless’ side, silent and graceful as always despite their circumstances.
Magicless looked down into Alekka’s eyes, letting his own linger there briefly. “I will survive, if that is what you mean,” he said, more harshly than he’d intended. He turned away and stumbled forward.
“Micah, your leg is bleeding.”
“I’ll be fine. I’ll bandage it at the cave.” Somewhere he’d lost his pack, and along with it all his salves and bandages. Of course any of the mages could heal it for him, but he didn’t want Alekka or the others to worry about that now, and he didn’t want to feel beholden to any of them, either.
They walked the rest of the way in silence, shoulder to shoulder, and it was well after dark when they finally arrived at the cave. The entrance was heavily overgrown with shrubs and climbing vines. The only things escaping from its dark and gaping maw were the faint sounds of dripping water and a cool, dank breeze smelling of wet dirt and stone. There was no indication of feet passing into the cave and not a flicker of life from within.
They had selected this location for that exact reason. The entrance was narrow and the cave wound around extensively before spilling out into a large cavern deep within the hillside. A thousand magefires could burn within that cavern, and not a hint of it would show at the mouth of the cave. Magicless recalled that Leali had also hoped that the deep layers of rock would hide whatever magical signature the Ghosts sought when seeking their prey. We’ll never find out now, Magicless thought. They hadn’t even made it this far before the Ghosts caught them up. His stomach felt stretched and tight, his lips pressed so thin he could feel his teeth biting into the skin. Alekka looked even more bloodless, and her gentle, wide brown eyes were troubled as they entered the mouth of the cave. Any survivors would be here. They would soon learn how many had perished in this fool’s errand of theirs. Magicless thought about his mother vaulting the railing of the store and rushing into the melee with his father at her heels and hoped desperately he would find them both safe inside.
Elisa entered first, since Magicless was incapable of detecting or disarming the wards in place to protect the cave, and hopefully, the people within it. As they came to the first ward they paused to allow Elisa to disable it. She chanted softly under her breath, hand hovering over what Magicless presumed to be the ward. There was no visible evidence of its existence he could see, nor could he feel anything in the air around him. His complete vulnerability struck him anew. Wards such as these could trap a mage, but only if they were careless. Mages could feel the presence of the ward and avoid it if they couldn’t disable it. He would have blindly stumbled into it, meeting whatever horrible demise its caster had devised. Within seconds, Elisa lowered her hand and nodded them forward, but before they could move a dark figure stepped forward, blocking their way.
“Leotfruma,” a voice murmured, and a light flared to life in Ashier’s palm. He tossed it into the air where it hovered, a thin strand of it snaking down to his palm and tethering there. The hard planes and chiseled features of his face jumped into relief as light suffused the space immediately around them. Magicless shifted his feet and moved back away from both the light and the mages.
“I’ve got Alekka, Leali, and Jobin in tow,” Elisa said as she pushed past Ashier and moved deeper into the cave without a glance at any of them.
“How many, Ashier?” Alekka asked as she stepped toward him.
Ashier, grim and filthy, first took in Jobin, floating quietly between Alekka and Leali, then Magicless, a look of both distaste and dismissal settling on his features. Magicless felt an answering expression rise unbidden on his own face.
He’d always hoped that one day they’d accept him. He trained daily with weapons he made himself. He hunted, he learned healing skills. But none of it made any difference to the mages. He had no magic, and that was all they cared about. Most of them were not mean to him, exactly. They were indiffe
rent. He often wondered if cruelty would be easier to endure. At least then he’d know that folks knew he existed. As it was, he felt invisible most days. Insubstantial, as if he were a bodiless spirit, lacking blood and bone. If it weren’t for his parents and Alekka, he felt like he’d have disappeared into nothingness long ago. But they looked at him, touched him—they were his sole connection to the physical world. They kept him solid and real.
But if few had survived, if his parents hadn’t survived, if they were responsible for destroying their town and killing all their friends, family, and neighbors with this harebrained plan to defy the Ragers and their Ghosts…to defy him…Magicless shuddered, not willing to follow that train of thought any further until he knew for certain how many of their people were left.
“Most survived, but we lost many, and of course you have seen the village,” said Ashier. It wasn’t a question.
Alekka inclined her chin in silent assent. “What about those we were trying to protect?”
Ashier’s eyes went flat in a way Magicless had never seen. Ashier was the most levelheaded, unflappable man he had ever known. This was more emotion than he normally expressed in an entire year. Magicless reached out and grasped the cold hard stone of the cave wall and leaned his forehead against it. He closed his eyes against what he knew was coming.
“The mothers, Ashier,” Alekka pressed gently. Magicless wondered why she bothered. She had to see as clearly as he the news was not good.
“We lost them. We didn’t have enough time to get them into the cave. They came directly at us. We’d left most of the mages in town to ensure things didn’t look suspicious. We could not protect them, Alekka. We were not enough.” His voice broke on the last word, choking off.
