Magicless

by K. Ferrin

  Magicless dropped his knife and lifted Alekka in his arms. She was as light as a child as he carried her to the water’s edge and laid her gently at the water creature’s feet.

  “Please,” he said simply, and stepped away. There was nothing more to say.

  The being knelt over Alekka as the group drew nearer to watch. It laid its staff across her body and rested its hands gently over the top, one on her chest and the other across her lower belly. It dropped its head and slowed its breathing, as if falling into a deep trance. The water moved behind it, and another similar-looking being rose up from the water. Without a word it moved beside the first and placed a hand to either side of Alekka’s head. This one, too, dropped its head and settled into a deep trance.

  Time passed. Magicless had no idea how much. He waited in silent agony, not knowing what the creatures were or whether they were helping Alekka or killing her. He took heart in the fact that he felt nothing but calm and peace emanating from them, however, and he felt deeply that he could trust them, but fear twisted in his gut all the same. Jobin stood beside him, his hand a steadying weight on his shoulder.

  Finally, after what seemed an eternity, the two creatures raised their heads and came to their feet. Alekka remained still.

  “She will live,” the first said in its slow, deep voice. “But she must rest. Why are you here?”

  Magicless looked at his companions. Tredon was far from the group, sitting with his head hanging low, hands to either side of his head. He didn’t stir. Leali and Ashier stood near him but they both looked to Magicless without a word. He didn’t understand it, but they were now deferring to him. Somehow he’d become the leader.

  He moved toward the two beings. “Thank you for your help. I am called Magi—”

  “Micah. He is called Micah,” Jobin interrupted, giving Magicless a pointed look. Magicless hesitated, uncertain. He’d wore his nickname like a protective cloak ever since he was a child; making the choice to call himself Magicless had removed most of the sting from the word over time. He wasn’t sure he was ready to drop that cloak, but now was not really the time to consider it.

  “My true name is Micah.” He amended. “We are traveling through, but got caught up with the Illes.”

  “But to where do you travel, and to what end?”

  Magicless hesitated. He didn’t know who or what these creatures were. It was not likely they were in league with the Dark Wizard, but that didn’t mean they were not sympathetic toward him, or so fearful of him that they’d help him just to avoid confrontation. Somehow, though, he doubted they feared Amentis. They radiated such peace, had such power—perhaps they could be allies. And they helped Alekka, he thought, looking down at her. He could see her chest rising and falling rhythmically.

  It felt as if much hung on this moment. As if he stood on the cusp of something, but knew not what. He felt strongly that he must be truthful.

  “We are traveling north. To find the Dark Wizard,” he said.

  “To what end?”

  “To kill him. To bring an end to his torment of Dorine Lillith. To protect mothers and children from whatever it is he does to them when he takes them. To restore balance.”

  “To restore balance.” The second being stepped forward as he spoke. “This one here is the Oynnestre, the one who will restore balance,” he said, motioning toward Alekka. It was more a statement than a question.

  “I...I don’t know,” Magicless answered, turning the strange-sounding phrase over in his head. “I don’t know what that means. But she travels with us, yes.”

  The second creature looked at the first and something seemed to pass between them; a decision made.

  “Come, we welcome you to our domain.” He stepped aside and motioned the group toward the water.

  Magicless stared at the surface in confusion, and the first creature answered his unspoken question. “Please, step into the water, and we will bring you to our home. You will be safe—we’ll bring air for the journey—you will be comfortable there.”

  The creature bent down and picked Alekka up gently, moving into the river until the water lapped at its chest. Magicless moved to follow him, and the others began to as well. All except Tredon, who still had not moved.

  Leali went back to him, placing a hand gently on his shoulder. “Tredon. It’s time to go. Are you hurt? Can you stand?

  Tredon buried his head deeper into his hands. “Go without me. I’m staying here.”

  Leali looked at the others in surprise. “We are all going, and we can’t leave you behind. Are you hurt? I can—”

  “I’m not hurt. Just go. Leave. I don’t want you here.” His voice was soft and garbled, as if by grief. He pulled his shoulder out from under her hand. “Go.”

  Ashier went to him and knelt in front of him. “Tredon. We need you, brother. You can’t leave us. What of our mission? What of killing Amentis?”

  “Is she alright?” Tredon asked.

  “Alekka?” Ashier raised his eyebrows in question toward the creature standing patiently chest-deep in the water.

  “She will be fine, Tredon. With some...restrictions. But she is well,” the creature said.

  “Has she lost her power?” Tredon asked without raising his head.

  “It is still within her.”

  “I meant can she use it!” Tredon shouted, raising his head to stare at the creature. His eyes were shot through with red and tears traced down his face. “I felt what you did. Can she use it? Will she ever be able to use it again?”

  The second creature moved to face the group. His eyes looked sad. “She is bound. Different from the binding you know. Illes are predators. They feed on magic. They cut her deeply, and such a wound cannot be truly healed. Our magic holds her power within her, allowing her to live. She is free to use her magic, but she cannot use it without destroying the binding, and if she destroys the binding, she will die.”

  “So what you’re saying is that if she uses her powers, even the slightest bit, she will die,” Tredon said, dropping his head back down into his hands. “Jobin. You were right. And I’m sorry. I failed you. I failed all of you. Just go.”

  Magicless felt like something inside of him was breaking apart. She would be fine, with rest, but could no longer use her magic. That was bad enough. But she was kept alive by magic. He annulled magic, cancelled it out, obliterated it.

  “I can’t touch her, can I.”

  It was a statement more than a question. He knew. In his bones he knew. He stared at the two creatures, their aqueous features settling into sadness, the green depths of their eyes filling with water. The second shook his head in a silent negative.

  Magicless saw Tredon’s head jerk upright, his eyes boring twin holes into Magicless’ own. “Why can’t you touch her?” he demanded.

  Magicless’ mouth started to move, but the anguish in his chest kept him from speaking. Instead he walked out to where Alekka was softly cradled against the first creature’s chest and looked at her beautiful, beloved face. He’d never cup her chin with his hand, or hold her against his chest again. Never feel her lips on his own again.

  “Micah isn’t magic-less, exactly,” Jobin said quietly to the group. “He has magic. He...I don’t understand it, but he absorbs magic somehow, and grounds it. Annulling it.”

  Tredon stared at Magicless and Alekka for several deep, slow breaths. “I’ve taken her magic and her love from her,” he said softly.

  “It was an accident—” began Leali.

  “It’s my fault!” Tredon interrupted Leali and came to his feet. “I was angry. I went wandering in the wood alone. I heard the song, but I should have been on guard. If I had been more rational I wouldn’t have gone in search of the singer. It’s my fault. I almost killed her. Maybe I did kill her. What value is there in the life of a mage without magic?”

  “Shut up, Tredon.” Magicless said the words softly, hearing the exhaustion in his voice as if from far, far away. “Stand up, walk over here with the rest of us, a
nd shut up. We need you now more than ever if we are to do what must be done. We will not leave without you. You will not remain here wallowing in self pity.”

  Tredon’s face purpled briefly in rage. He said nothing, but he didn’t move, either.

  “She lost her magic protecting you, Tredon. She believes you are critical to our success and because she believes, I believe. Don’t make her sacrifice be for nothing,” Magicless finished, his voice choking off on his last words.

  All at once Tredon’s face crumbled into itself and his shoulders slumped heavily. After a long moment, he rose to his feet and moved into the water with Leali and Ashier flanking him. They gathered in a cluster in the chest-deep water, subdued and silent.

  “Does it take magic to get there?” Magicless asked. “If it does, it won’t work with me.”

  “We know what you are. You have no need for worry,” the second creature answered. He dipped one arm deep into the water, muttering strange words under his breath. In one sweeping motion he pulled his arm from the water, arcing it over his head and plunging it deep into the water on his far side. A sheen of liquid followed the movement of his arm, forming a thin bubble all around them. They began sinking into the dark of the river. Magicless kept expecting water to rush in and drown them, but the thin bubble held the river water at bay and they sunk fast into the depths.

  The river was far deeper than the surface suggested, and they sank for nearly half an hour before the bubble stopped moving. The second creature repeated the series of gestures in reverse, and the bubble vanished from around them. Magicless felt a moment of fear as he saw the thin shield vanish, but instead of rushing cold water, only warm, humid air rushed in upon them.

  He looked around in wonder. There was thick, soft seaweed beneath his feet, more luscious than any grass on the surface. It swayed gently as if submerged, though there was no water Magicless could feel. The air he breathed was pleasantly warm, refreshing, and heady, as if it contained more air than the air on the surface.

  Around them was a town, much like any other town he’d ever been in. There were shops and homes and beings moving to and fro, busy as any day in any village. They were scaled head to toe and had brilliantly hued fins lining their arms and legs. And they didn’t walk, they swam—it was clear that they were surrounded entirely by water, but Magicless and his companions remained dry and breathing.

  “You are here, but not in the same way that they are. You can see them and they can see you. You can talk to them and they can talk to you, but they have their water and you have your air,” said the first creature. “I am Freen, and this is Anet,” he continued, gesturing first to himself and then to his companion. “Welcome to Avery Grove.”

  “How...?” Elisa breathed. “I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

  Anet laughed gently. “There are many hidden things in the world, land-walker. Things that are secret, kept hidden. We are one of them.”

  Anet and Freen moved toward a large house nearby, swimming slowly alongside their walking guests. Freen still held Alekka close to his chest.

  “If I may...what are you?” Elisa asked. “I’ve heard stories of mer-people, of course, but they have the tail of a fish and the chest and head of a person. I’ve never heard of people like you.”

  “That is because we have no wish for any to know we are here. We are in hiding, and have been for many long years. We have left the world above to the land-walkers, and live down here, in peace. Undisturbed.”

  “But you came to the surface for us. Brought us here. Why?” Magicless asked. “I am grateful for your help. But why?” It seemed as if he were moving through a dream, but he had to stay alert, had to keep asking questions, had to do whatever was necessary to ensure their success no matter if his heart felt like it had been turned to stone in his chest. Their goal was more important to him now than it had ever been before.

  “We have stories just as you do, land-walker. We have prophesy. One prophecy tells of a land-walker who is also the Oynnestre, someone who will restore the world to its rightful balance and destroy the Dark Wizard’s rule,” Anet said, his voice rumbling deep in his chest. “We have watched for her. And today, we found her.”

  “You think Alekka is the person in your prophecy?” Elisa asked.

  The group reached the house and Anet opened the door, standing aside to allow Freen to enter. He vanished into the dim reaches of the house and Anet waved the others in ahead of him. “Straight to the back, please. The kitchen is there. I will make tea. Food, too, if you are hungry.”

  The house was only dimly lit, and Magicless could see little of the rooms around him as he walked through. When he stepped into the kitchen, though, light flared brightly, illuminating and warming the room around him. A fire flickered in the hearth, neat cabinets lined the walls, and unbroken countertops swept around the edges of the room. Nothing was out on the counter, nothing out of place. Everything was streamlined and smooth, in sharp contrast with Noz’s warm chaos. The one thing they had in common was a long table that ran the length of the room in front of a wall of floor-to-ceiling glass. Noz’s kitchen had looked out over his gardens and the lake further in the distance. This window looked out over a deep chasm filled with swaying sea-grass and vibrant fish darting in and out of brightly colored fans and other oddly shaped plants and animals. Magicless had no idea what any of it was, but was left breathless by the wonder of it.

  “Please, sit. I’ll make some tea,” Anet said.

  He took a seat at the table alongside the others. Tredon sat as far from the group as he was able, dropping his head onto his arms on the table. They sat, lost in their own thoughts, as Anet hummed softly and bustled around the kitchen.

  Freen rejoined the group as Anet filled thick mugs and set food on the table before them. Anet settled next to Freen, pulling his hand toward him and settling it on his thigh. The others began eating. Magicless grasped the warm cup of tea and let its warmth spread through his hands. He felt as if his insides were turning to liquid. Concern for Alekka, worry at how she would feel when she learned she could no longer use her magic, grief for the reality that he could never touch her again. He struggled against the tears that threatened to fall and forced himself to listen to the conversation around him.

  “Yes. I believe Alekka is the land-walker of prophesy, to answer your earlier question, Elisa,” said Anet. “That is why we stepped in to provide aid. She must be protected at all costs. You must complete your journey. All of you.” He looked toward Tredon as he uttered those last words.

  “Well, we are lost then, aren’t we? If she is who you say she is, her injury means we’ve failed,” Ashier said.

  Anet sighed. “I do not know, Ashier. The prophecy says she will come, but it says nothing of how she fulfills her destiny. We do not know if she needs her powers to prevail, or if she achieves this through some other means. What happened tonight grieves me, but it does not destroy my hope that this time of darkness and hiding is almost over.”

  “You may still have hope, but I’m losing mine,” Elisa said. “Jobin is bound, and now Alekka can’t use her magic, either. We are getting weaker and weaker, and we’re not even close to our goal. We have a map, but who knows where that leads because the person who drew it is probably dead by now, and at the hands of Amentis himself, no doubt. He probably told Amentis all he knows about us, too, so the Dark Wizard likely knows we are coming. This quest is hopeless.” Elisa sat back in her chair, arms crossed on her chest.

  Magicless wanted to contradict her, to tell her they still had a chance of success, but forming the words was just too difficult. He didn’t know if he really believed it anymore, either, if he was being honest with himself. When he’d woken this morning he’d been filled with hope. Now he felt only the empty space that hope had left in his chest when it had abandoned him.

  None of the others spoke to contradict Elisa. Tredon still sat in silence, his head still resting on his arms. Jobin sat next to Elisa, one arm around her shoulders in c
omfort, but his eyes stared emptily at the table in front of him. Ashier looked lost, Leali exhausted. The confident team they’d been only this morning was gone. Magicless had lived much of his life feeling like a ghost drifting at the edges of Aclay, there but not really there, seen but never spoken to. Now they were all ghosts—shadows of who they’d once been.

  “A millennia ago, there was another attempt such as the one you make now,” Freen said, breaking the group’s silence at last. “It was in the beginning. The Dark Wizard’s power was just starting to wax strong, and we were still able to walk the land as well as swim the waters. Our people saw the danger he posed and we decided to rebel against him. We were strong in magic but small in numbers, and we were defeated. Brutally. The Dark Wizard wiped our people from the face of the earth and unleashed a curse upon us that ensured any left alive would never set foot upon land again for all eternity. But the curse was unneeded. We were already broken. Only a few hundred of my people were left alive after his campaign of destruction. We were scattered. Lost.

  “The survivors hid. Time passed. Ages. Finally some of our people settled here, a small group—perhaps a dozen. We sent quiet word along the arteries of water that trace the world and, over time, more came. We’d grown since the days of our destruction. There were more of us and among us was an oracle. This oracle foretold the coming of the Oynnestre, and this, finally, gave us hope.”

  “We’ve lived here ever since, waiting for many of your lifetimes, preparing. We grew our numbers, we grew our power, and we waited. We survived the almost complete destruction of our people because knowing a sliver of possibility existed at some vague time somewhere in the future was enough for us to grow on. I understand your sadness. I understand your desperation. I have felt it, too, and I understand its source. Live in it, tonight. Cry if you need to cry. Scream if you need to scream. But awake tomorrow with hope again in your breast, and come to this table ready to begin anew.”