Magicless

by K. Ferrin

  “Enough of that,” Ashier’s level voice was like a splash of cold water. Elisa’s eyes were narrow and color blushed high on her cheeks, but she stood down. The electric feeling in the air began to dissipate as everyone relaxed. Ashier spoke again, eying the crowd.

  “So it is myself, Alekka, Tredon, Jobin, Elisa, and Leali, then.”

  Magicless stood, his voice ringing clearly across the room before he could stop to consider it further.

  “And I.”

  All eyes turned to him. His heart beat madly in his chest and he could feel sweat popping out on the back of his neck and across his palms. He wasn’t used to this much concentrated attention at once.

  A moment passed. Then two. Finally, Ashier turned away. “Six of us, then. Very well. Rest tonight, we will leave at dawn.”

  And that was the end of it. Everyone turned away from him and dispersed into the bustle and chaos of planning to rebuild Aclay for those who were staying, and preparations for departure for the rest. Magicless looked around the room. Although he was standing in the middle of a sea of bodies, Magicless felt as alone as he’d ever been. It was as if he had not even spoken. Their disregard was so absolute that he wondered if he had actually spoken aloud or had only thought the words. He cast his gaze around for Alekka. When he spotted her she was standing statue-still, her eyes cast downwards and brow creased, clearly deep in thought. Magicless felt anger choking him. That kind of disregard was typical from the others, but Alekka had never treated him so coldly. Magicless wondered if it was because of the lie he’d told for Jobin. Why would she suddenly begin treating him with the same disregard as the others? He turned away from her, thrusting his disappointment aside. He stood that way for several minutes before his father pulled him down next to him.

  Magicless studied his father, feeling as if he were truly seeing him for the first time. His dark hair was streaked gray with ash from the fires. He had two deep lines running from the corners of his mouth and Magicless saw fine lines emanating from the corners of his gray eyes. They seemed incongruous, those two sets of wrinkles. One set gained from a lifetime of laughter, the other carved within hours from grief. There was dried blood near his right ear, and Magicless wondered whose blood it was.

  “Ignore them, Micah. They are ignorant and cannot see past the ends of their own arms. They don’t see your worth, but they will, my boy, they surely will.”

  His Da was always on his side, making cryptic comments about his value and his destiny. It gave him comfort most days, but not today. Today, after everything that had happened, it bit at him deeply. Perhaps it was the exhaustion, or the grief, or the fact that he’d tried so hard to be useful and was still met with cold indifference from most of those whom he sought to help—Magicless snapped.

  “Enough, Da! I am no child. I know that I’m no one, and will always be no one here. You don’t have to lie to me.”

  His father looked at him steadily, sadness and something Magicless couldn’t name warring for dominance in his eyes. His father put his hand on Magicless’ shoulder and squeezed once, hard.

  “Not everything is as it seems, Micah. Just remember that.”

  Instead of responding, Magicless lay down and pulled his cloak up over his head. He knew that he was being petulant, but after the day’s events, he couldn’t find it in himself to care. His people may never treat him as an equal, no matter what his father said, but damned if he was going to live his life according to how they defined it. They ignore me and dismiss me and treat me as if I were invisible? Well, fair enough. I’ll be invisible, Magicless thought viciously as he pulled his cloak further up over his head. He might end up spending his entire life as a nobody, he may even die that way, but he wasn’t going to spend another minute caring what anyone thought of him or letting their prejudices dictate his actions. He’d do this his way.

  [ 6 ]

  Alekka shifted, trying to ignore the constant murmur of people breathing and talking quietly around her. The worst was the steady murmur of Jobin’s mother saying over and over how much she loved Jobin, that it was not his fault, that he was a hero and he had done what he could. The woman’s words twisted in her gut and lodged under her tongue. The steady stream of her whispers was interrupted only by gut-wrenching sobs. Her grief ate at Alekka like venom from a firesnake and burned worse than the venom ever could.

  She had only a thin blanket over hard rock to sleep on and the rock dug into her hip, her side, and her back. She considered spelling a cushion under her but dropped the idea almost as soon as it formed. The pain and noise was her punishment for not admitting sooner that something had to be done about the Dark Wizard. For doing nothing to help Leali and the others with their plan out of fear, despite knowing her own considerable powers.

  She’d been dreaming of him for years. For as long as she could remember. Dark dreams of torture, visions of desiccated corpses discarded in lost valleys, of bizarre, monstrous creatures and vast caverns of stone. Often she was lost in those caverns, running, with the damp breath of some creature tickling the back of her neck. She would wake covered in sweat and not knowing if she were in a dank cave or in her own bed.

  The Dark Wizard was the source of a deep imbalance in the world, she could sense it—a pulling sensation somewhere far to the north. It felt as if the fabric of reality itself was torn, the air sucking out of the world she knew and into some other place. None of the others felt it—she’d asked. When she’d heard Leali talking of her rebellion a cold, heavy rock had settled into her gut and stayed there. Fear had slithered through her chest and set up house. She’d argued against the rebellion—not because she believed it was wrong, but for much more selfish reasons. She knew that the decision to go after Amentis where he lived would be the beginning. The beginning of what, she didn’t know. But she knew a beginning when she saw one.

  She was sure that Magicless blamed himself for following Leali, and Leali blamed herself for being a fool, and Tredon blamed the Ragers, but Alekka felt like she was to blame for the events of today, and she alone. She had been the fool. She had been the coward. Her inability to accept the risk of confrontation with the Dark Wizard, even knowing first-hand the havoc he wreaked, is what burned Aclay, killed so many of the townsfolk, and left her friends riddled with guilt, sorrow, and a thirst for vengeance. There was not enough pain in all the world for her to atone for what her cowardice had wrought. She felt the prick of tears in her eyes and she bit her lip until she tasted blood.

  Alekka looked over at Jobin and saw his head bowed beneath his mother’s comforting hands. His face was pinched, his hands clutched into fists in his lap. His eyes flashed toward her and for a moment their eyes locked. She squirmed with the truth of his inaction and subsequent overreaction and with the weight of her own guilt. She turned away, rolling to her other side to avoid his hollow eyes, their weight more than she could carry.

  She struggled in silence as the seconds slowly slid by. Somewhere in the sky, far above the stone ceiling of the cavern, the moon traveled across the sky. Stars blinked bright and then faded. The movement and chatter around her quieted and, eventually, she slept.

  * * *

  She was running through the wood around Aclay. The cool air of the mountain night moved through her lungs with ease and the steady flex of her muscles as she ran filled her with exhilaration at their strength. It was night, but the moon was full, and the wood was flooded with its otherworldly glow.

  She saw a vague shape behind her and her heart jolted in her chest. She knew what it was and she didn’t want to see. She turned her eyes forward and ran faster, racing through the wood, convinced she could outrun it. But she could sense it gaining on her, could feel its cold touch on the back of her neck. Her nostrils flared, her stride lengthened, and she pulled every ounce of speed out of her body.

  It was no use. Certainty settled over her like a heavy wet woolen blanket. Its weight slowed her down, its heavy dampness smothered her breath. It pulled the air from her lungs as thoroughly a
s deep water. His darkness had broken through the bounds of that isolated island he’d been banished to and, like poison, was spreading through all the world. It had to be stopped.

  She felt dread well up in her gut. She stopped running, leaned against a rough oak, and heaved at its base. She vomited again and again, her stomach clenching, her legs shaking, tears squeezing through her tightly closed eyes. She fell to her knees and bowed her head in supplication.

  Help me.

  She could smell her own vomit and could not stop the trembling of her body and the wrenching of her gut. She wept openly. She felt as if she’d been eviscerated and left to die.

  Please.

  She heard a rustle from the earth in front of her. Without raising her head, she opened her eyes to see she was facing a small black spider.

  What do you seek, child? The spider asked.

  She didn’t speak, but instead let her terror flow through her and out into the forest around her. She sensed confusion from the little creature.

  Why are you afraid?

  She stilled. She hadn’t considered why she feared. Only that she did.

  I’m afraid I’ll die.

  The spider did not move, but its stare turned disapproving.

  I fear killing another.

  Again, disapproval.

  She looked inside at the small, hard spot that she’d pushed to the deepest corner of her heart. It was hard as diamond and glittered with menace. Sweat broke out on her brow and the trembling in her flesh became spasms of terror. She reached her mind’s eye toward the box, stretching out to touch it, and as she did the hard, glittering surface opened smoothly to reveal a tiny seedling inside. She exhaled onto it, and it grew quickly, forming a bud within the time of a single blink and a full bloom by the end of her exhale. She looked closer into the flower, seeing something small deep in its center.

  Her breathing slowed, the spasms stopped, though she was so completely focused on the small thing in the center of that flower that she hardly noticed. She pushed her nose deep into it, feeling the petals tickle against her eyelashes and brush her ears. Her entire head was buried in the flower before she was close enough to see. She had expected a fear beyond anything she could imagine, but instead what she found there was peace.

  I am afraid that I will lose myself on this journey, though I do not know why.

  I am afraid I will lose myself in him, as I do in my dreams.

  That I will be overcome by his hatred and rage.

  That I will become his tool and will destroy everything and everyone I hold dear.

  I fear I will not have the strength to do what must be done.

  The spider radiated approval and pride. Alekka exhaled, the peaceful feeling spreading further into every cell of her body.

  There are no ends and no beginnings, but balance is required for the continuation of all things, the spider said. To doubt is human, and above all things, you are human. These are your tests, and you must prevail, or we will suffer a thousand thousand years of darkness.

  Alekka heard the words in her mind, not in her ears.

  But what am I meant to do? What are any of us meant to do in the face of such limitless evil? Alekka implored, but the spider had vanished.

  She lay back, feeling as if she had touched something vast and incomprehensible, though she knew not what. Bits and pieces would come to her like flashes of sunlight between trees, but she couldn’t hold the drifting strands together, and they shifted away like steam from a cook pot. She could hear the quiet susurrus of breath as air entered her body and left it. She could feel her eyelashes touching her cheeks as she blinked slowly up at the night sky. The stars twinkled in a most fascinating manner. And they moved. So odd for stars to move like that.

  Suddenly, she realized they were not stars but light bugs. Her vision came into focus with a jolt, and she realized she was watching the light bugs flitter around the roof of the cave. She blinked in confusion, feeling like there was something she needed to remember, but it vanished like the moon slipping behind the horizon.

  The sound of people moving and waking grew around her and she knew dawn was near. They would begin their journey today. She did not feel the stab of fear such a thought would have caused her yesterday. Instead she anticipated it with a sort of grim optimism.

  Whatever it was that lay ahead of her, it began today.

  [ 7 ]

  Alekka climbed to her feet and found a packed bag resting near the foot of her bedroll. It wasn’t hers. Everything she owned had burned. She looked around, but no one paid her any mind. She pulled it close and took stock of what it contained. Food, mostly. Dried rolls, hard cheeses, dried fruit and tough jerky. There was another blanket stuffed into the bottom—long hide pants, a rough-spun shirt, a leather belt, and a water skin. A fur cloak had been left near the pack alongside a pair of tall leather boots and a heavy tunic. Nothing much, but more than enough.

  She stuffed everything into the pack and then pulled her hair back from her face, tying it into a knot at the back of her neck. She swung the pack over her shoulders and scanned the cavern for her companions. No one looked at her. It was as if they’d already dismissed her and the rest of her party as dead and gone. She didn’t blame them. They feared the Dark Wizard just as she and her companions did, and if she was being honest with herself, a part of her still fretted that their plan was ill conceived and foolish. But what other choice did they have?

  There are no ends and no beginnings, but balance is required for the continuation of all things...

  The words from her dream echoed in her head, though she could make no more sense of them this morning than she had been able to the night before.

  She looked for Micah, but he was nowhere in sight. His father sat where he had been the night before, sipping a steaming mug of coffee, Micah’s mother by his side. Their family was alive, but they too had lost more than a few friends. She considered asking them if they knew where he was. She and Micah had always had a friendship of sorts. They spent no real time together, but she had always been friendly and he had been friendly in return. She supposed that it was more of a friendship than either of them had with anyone else.

  She turned away, thinking that perhaps it would be easier to not say goodbye after all. He had been so rudely dismissed by the mages yesterday, and she had been so caught up in her own thoughts that she hadn’t had it in her to come to his defense—it wasn’t as if they’d have listened to her in any event—gifted as she was, she was still an outsider. People felt the way they felt about Micah, or Magicless as they called him, simple as that. It wasn’t fair, and it wasn’t kind, but it was how it was. Likely he didn’t want to be here and be reminded of the harsh rebuff. She weaved her way through the cavern toward the exit.

  As she pushed through the thick foliage at the mouth of the cave, she realized it was later than she had thought. Bright sunshine flooded the wood and there was not a cloud in the sky. Birds flitted from tree to tree as if in exuberant celebration of the end to the long rain. It was a good day to begin a journey. The feeling of grim determination in her heart hardened a little more into what felt like the beginnings of real confidence.

  The others were waiting for her as she emerged from the cave, scattered in the small clearing in front of the cave mouth. Tredon’s face was red, eyes blazing, and he scowled at her as she approached. She took a deep breath and moved past him without a word. It was too early to deal with his angry rhetoric. Ashier stood next to him, cool and detached as always. She spared him a small smile as she walked by. Ashier reminded her of an oak, deeply rooted and hardy, always there if one needed shelter from the rain or sun. Unflappable, able to bend in the wind, but firmly rooted. Elisa stood off to the side, her hair pulled back into the customary thick braid that trailed down her back, arms crossed on her chest and legs set wide. All were dressed for travel as she was, their packs slung over their backs or resting at their feet.

  Jobin stood with his mother, who clutched his arm desperatel
y. The leather leggings he wore and the hard leather vest that clung to his chest highlighted his muscled leanness. He was tall, and had to scrunch down so his mother could speak near his ear. His face was set with concrete determination. It was clear she’d tried to convince him to stay, and equally clear he would not be swayed by his mother’s tearful words. Leali sat away from all of them, facing out into the wood. Her back was slumped, and Alekka saw no trace of the proud warrior stance she typically displayed.

  Micah was still nowhere to be seen. She again felt a twinge of sorrow in her gut for the way he had been treated last night. She wondered where he had hidden himself and what he would do while they were gone, and she wondered if that was right. He was brave. He had slain two Ragers. He had jumped into the middle of a hoard to try to save Locke with nothing but a sword and two long knives. He was a skilled hunter as well, with those metal weapons of his. Easily as good as all but the most skilled of mages. Magic took exertion and skill as well after all, and she knew that many mages lost touch with their basic skills when they went unused for long periods of time, just like muscles atrophied when neglected. Skills such as the ones Micah possessed could be useful on a journey such as this.

  She walked across the clearing and placed her hand gently on Leali’s shoulder. She was tense, her pain held tight in her neck and shoulders. Alekka put gentle, compassionate pressure into the touch. “Are you ready?” she asked quietly.

  Leali nodded and stood. The few villagers that had gathered to see them off said nothing. From behind her she could hear Jobin’s mother.

  “Jobin, please,” she implored.

  “They killed Locke, Mother,” Jobin replied. “I will avenge him. I will not let his death be for nothing. I am sorry, but you need to accept it.”