Real Magic

by Lissa Michaels

  “Well, well, well, if it isn’t the Magician.” A man with short wavy red hair, green eyes, and pale speckled skin looked him over. “Tired of playing Executioner? Decide you want to be a real one?”

  “You sure? I didn’t expect him to be so pretty.” This coming from an ugly, bald headed guy.

  The first one nodded. “Tattoo’s gone.”

  “I thought he’d be bigger.” This man was bulkier than the others and wore his dark brown hair cropped close to his head. Amethyst eyes, but lighter than Jelena’s.

  Drake raised an eyebrow, looking down at the man. They were at least four inches shorter than him and a hell of a lot smaller. They had balls, ragging him in his own language. Had to make absolutely sure he understood every word.

  “Give him your staff.” The brown-haired man twirled his padded staff in front of him. “Come on Magician. Let’s see if you’re as good as they say you are.”

  The redhead tossed Drake his staff and backed away. “Come on Rainor, get him!”

  Drake glanced at Kedar, who nodded. Okay, let’s play. He jabbed Rainor between the eyes with the staff and swept his legs out from under him. His moves were so quick, so unexpected, it stunned the circle of bodies surrounding him into silence.

  “Good enough?” he asked, his tone low and even.

  Rainor roared and leapt to his feet, his eyes blazing. “Come on you bastard. I’ve been wanting a piece of you for a long time.”

  “Want to tell me why?” As Drake watched him, circling slowly, his skin prickled then a shimmery white glow suffused Rainor’s body. What was he doing?

  Drake looked at Kedar. Could he read minds like Enola? Shield?

  Kedar nodded.

  Great. First thing on the agenda, once he finished with this mess, was to learn how to protect his thoughts.

  Rainor circled him. Drake kept him in his line of vision, but let it look like he lost sight of him.

  “Anyone else sick of going on assignment only to find the Magician or one of his Guild had already taken out the mark?”

  Mumbles and nods of agreement ran throughout the circle of men surrounding them.

  “Let me get this straight. You’re pissed because you didn’t have to kill?” Gods, how many times had he wished he didn’t have to kill someone. These people were actually complaining because someone did it for them? Amazing.

  Rainor bowed his head and the crowd fell uncomfortably silent. Maybe they didn’t like it put quite that way.

  “Rest assured that the Guild isn’t in the assassination business anymore. The pleasure of the kill is all yours.”

  Rainor’s head jerked up, his face twisted with fury. He lashed at Drake with his staff.

  Drake met the blow, and the next, and the next, enjoying the perplexed look on the man’s face. He swept the man’s feet out from under him and levered the end of his staff over his face.

  As still as they were, the crowd surrounding them could have been made of stone. “He saw him,” Red whispered. “He saw through Rainor’s shield.”

  Rainor lay on his back for several seconds, too stunned to move. The glow dispersed. “Why the hell do you need a Guardian?”

  Drake shrugged and gave the man a hand up.

  “Have you seen her? I wouldn’t mind being shut in with her night and day.” Grinning, Red nudged the guy next to him. “Bet he doesn’t either.”

  When Kedar took the staff from Rainor, Drake nearly groaned aloud. He knew better than to judge a man by his age, but he was also a hell of a lot smaller than Drake. He didn’t want to chance hurting the old man.

  “This old man is going to lay you on your ass.” Kedar swung.

  Drake dodged the blow, met the next and the next. Avoiding a sweep, he leapt and landed wrong on his bad leg, nearly going down. Kedar gave him no time to recover. He whacked Drake’s wounded arm, making him lose his grip on the staff, then a hard jab in his abdomen and a kick to his wounded thigh. Drake went down hard.

  “If you can’t defend yourself against a padded staff, how can you hope to survive a sword, an ax, or a club?”

  Or a blaster? “You have me at a disadvantage,” Drake panted, using the staff to pull himself to his feet.

  Kedar swung, smacking the staff out from under him with his own, sending it skittering to the edge of the ring. “Your weaknesses shine glaringly bright. Shield them or get rid of them.”

  “How?”

  “Your mind is very powerful. Use it.” He squatted in front of Drake. “Close your eyes and do what I tell you.”

  Drake stared at him, trying to determine what the man was up to now. Was it a trick, or was he teaching?

  “You can learn this technique or not. It’s your life.”

  Point taken. Drake closed his eyes.

  “Visualize your injuries. See how they glow?”

  He nodded. His arm. His abdomen. His leg.

  “What color?”

  “Yellow.”

  “Good. Now draw the pain into one central spot then imagine yourself pulling energy from the heavens. As it builds within you, it wraps around the pain, binding it tight. Do you still see the yellow?”

  “No.”

  “Not even a glimmer?”

  “No.”

  “Good. Now release the energy.”

  It left him in a rush, taking the pain with it. Drake opened his eyes and stared into Kedar’s bright blue eyes—eyes the same color as his own. “Will the pain return?”

  “If you bound it completely, no. You have healed yourself. But in a fight, you will not have the time you took just now. It must be done in an instant. Any pain left unbound is a weakness an Udaro or other sensitive species can sense and use against you.” He grinned and stood, holding his hand out to Drake. “Not to worry. You will have plenty of opportunities to practice your skills.”

  Drake grasped Kedar’s hand and allowed him to help pull him up. “I don’t doubt it.”

  Kedar slipped the pads off the ends of his staff and tossed it to Rainor, then did the same with Drake’s. “Again. This time, use your magic to help you.”

  “Why the hand-to-hand? Why not just blast them with those little blue fireballs of yours?”

  Kedar raised his eyebrow.

  “Killing with magic hurts like hell. We try to avoid it,” Rainor said.

  “Being Executioners, we’re trained to take it,” Red rubbed his chin, “but it would probably kill one of the others.”

  “Still, we try to avoid it.” Rainor grinned.

  “Being Executioners, I wouldn’t think it would bother you at all.” What would have happened to Jelena if she’d killed Galen?

  “It’s the Gods’ way of keeping us honest, of keeping us from going Udaro.” Red again—the thoughtful one.

  “Why not pull a blaster and shoot them, same as any other assassin would?”

  “We are not assassins,” Rainor growled, and swung at his head.

  Drake ducked. “Aren’t you?” He mentally tapped Rainor on his shoulder then used his momentary distraction to sweep his feet out from under him and jab the end of the staff at his face, stopping only a few centimeters from his nose. A killing blow.

  “I concede,” Rainor panted

  Kedar clapped. “Good! Your magic helped you.”

  Shaking his head, Drake gave Rainor a hand up. “I cheated.”

  “Do what you must to walk away alive. Rainor, up. Again.”

  “Will this keep your council off my back?”

  “No.”

  “What will?”

  “In time—”

  “Look, I don’t mean disrespect, but I know how to fight.” Drake rubbed his hand over his face. “I need to learn how to use this power.”

  Kedar raised his eyebrow. “You should have learned that when you were a child. Why now?”

  “I don’t want her responsible for me anymore.”

  “That is not the way things are done.”

  Drake swore softly.

  “However, this is not the usual
situation.” Kedar met his gaze. “Give me your word that you will complete the full course from beginning to end when Jelena is no longer your Guardian.”

  “You have it.”

  “Then let us begin.”

  Drake narrowed his eyes. Kedar looked way too pleased with his answer. What the hell did he just set himself up for?

  Chapter Ten

  DRAKE STARED at Jelena, nestled in her soft inviting bed, her golden curls spread wildly around her head. Temptation grabbed at him with both hands. Gods, he wanted to climb into that bed and wake her in a way that would take half the morning.

  He strode out of the bedroom, turning his back on temptation just as he had last night. She’d already gone to sleep when he’d returned to her place, so he crashed a few hours on her couch then showered and dressed in the loose-fitting clothes Kedar gave him.

  Dawn had barely begun to paint the sky when he headed out the door. The sun was up and shining brightly by the time he reached the Executioners’ compound.

  The area in front of the stone archway was crawling with people. They left a path clear for the burgundy-cloaked Executioners to pass through, and he received more than a few odd stares as he strode past them and entered the compound.

  Kedar stood at the temple steps waiting for him. He shook his hooded head. “You walked? Why am I teaching you these skills if you are unwilling to use them?”

  “Not unwilling—not ready.” When he installed a new transporter, he didn’t use it without testing it first. He didn’t see this as being any different.

  “A thoughtful point of view. You are wise to be cautious.”

  Drake scowled. “When are you going to teach me how to shield my thoughts from nosy mages?”

  Kedar chuckled. “Your mind speaks louder than your voice. If you are careful to keep your thoughts as quiet, it should do well enough to keep them private from nosy mages.” His smile faded. “Mental intrusion bothers you greatly, does it not?”

  “It always has.” Usually, to the point of pain.

  “Very curious.” Kedar rubbed his chin. “I had heard that you and your mother shared a strong mental bond.”

  Drake shook his head, backing away from thoughts of the woman he didn’t know. He didn’t want to know.

  “Very well. Let us go inside.” Kedar strode up the stairs.

  More than a few stares burned his back as he followed. “Why are all those people outside the gates?”

  “They wait for our morning rights to be completed, so they may enter the temple.” Kedar nodded to the priest who opened the door for them.

  Drake paused in the doorway. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been in a temple. Think it’ll come down around my ears?”

  “This is the Temple of the Three,” Rainor whispered behind him. That comment was meant to make him pause, to make him question whether he’d walk out alive. He saw it in Rainor’s eyes.

  Drake motioned for him to lead the way.

  There they were, The Three, carved larger-than-life in pristine white marble flecked with gold. They stood in a semi-circle in the rear of the large, domed chamber, facing a man-sized crystal egg. Each of the statues held a colored orb and the sign of their office: Acima—the gavel of judgement, Meda—the lightning bolt of justice, and Malin—the spear of war.

  He turned his gaze to the egg just as a rainbow of color rose from its base and burst against the surface of the clear crystal.

  “It’s a—”

  “Crystal entity,” Drake whispered.

  “You’ve seen them before?”

  He nodded. “Small ones.” Morgan’s wife Ariana had one. It helped her use her empathic abilities to screen federation applicants. They would not mistakenly admit another violent race like the Jotnar into the federation. “Those I’ve seen need the life-force of the wearer to sustain them. What keeps this one alive?”

  “The priests never leave the building. Their constant presence seems to be enough.”

  “Does it speak?” Ariana’s crystal spoke to him whenever he was near. It unnerved him so much that half the time he avoided her.

  Rainor nodded. “Only masters and priests hear the oracles.” His whisper held more than a touch of awe.

  Drake stiffened. “It’s a living entity, not a god.”

  “You’re right, but the gods communicate with us through the oracles.” He pointed toward the statues. “The colors tell you which god is speaking.”

  So, why wasn’t Drake more awed in the presence of the gods? These people conversed with the gods daily. It was as common to them as breathing, yet it still filled them with awe.

  It wasn’t because he didn’t believe in them. He did. Maybe he’d just had to rely on himself for too long.

  Rainor motioned toward an empty row of mats off to the side, maybe so their whispers wouldn’t bother the others.

  Drake knelt beside him, watching as Kedar and a priest approached the crystal and knelt before it.

  “Close your eyes and empty your mind. You’ll see what they see.” Rainor folded his legs and rested his wrists, palms up, on his knees.

  Drake bowed his head.

  {Draken Durand, come forward,} triple voices blared in his mind.

  He stiffened, jerking his gaze to the crystal. Its surface divided equally into three colors—amber, sapphire, and crimson—the colors of the orbs.

  “What’s wrong?” Rainor whispered.

  The crystal flashed amber. {Judgment has been passed.}

  Sapphire. {Justice must be served.}

  Crimson. {Or war will follow.}

  Judgment? Drake turned his gaze to Kedar.

  The man nodded, motioning him forward.

  He rose stiffly and walked to the crystal, ignoring the stares following him.

  “Kneel,” the priest said.

  Drake shook his head. “I’m not dying on my knees.”

  The priest gasped, his gaze bouncing from him, to the crystal, to Kedar, and back again.

  Amber. {It is not your destiny to die here and now.}

  Sapphire. {Your path must be set to rights.}

  Crimson. {It is time to avenge the wrong done to you.}

  Drake raised his hands but stopped short of touching the crystal, no matter how compelled he was to do it. He wouldn’t be forced.

  Amber. {Touch, and all will be clear.}

  No. The urge fell away, replaced with a clear, startling image of a beautiful black-haired woman sprawled at the base of a round crystal. Somewhere beyond her lifeless body, a child cried for his mother.

  Sapphire. {She was not meant to die.}

  “No.” Drake jerked back, struggling against the pain squeezing his heart. “I’m not an assassin. Not anymore.”

  He turned on his heel and strode out of the temple, but the image of her death mask was burned into his mind. The child’s cries chased him across the compound.

  “Damn it.” He scrubbed his hands over his face.

  “What was that?” Rainor called behind him.

  Sighing, he turned and saw the man wasn’t alone. The rest of his quartet followed him.

  “Did they just give you an assignment?” Rainor asked.

  “And you turned it down?” Baldy edged closer, his face angry red.

  Drake wasn’t sure which of them sounded more… incredulous, shocked, offended; call it what you would. He didn’t really care.

  “They never said a word,” Red whispered. “I saw the vision, but the priest, Master Kedar—neither said a word.”

  “You heard them, didn’t you?” Rainor asked. “Only priests—”

  “Or masters—” Red broke in.

  “I’m not here for that.” Shaking his head, Drake turned and nearly bumped into Kedar.

  “It is time for morning exercises,” Kedar said, dismissing them. “Rainor, you will attend me.”

  “Yes, Master.” Rainor bowed his head.

  Minutes later, the three of them stood in the center of a small shaded section of the training grounds. Well,
he and Kedar stood. Rainor lounged on his side, his head propped on his hand.

  Drake concentrated on keeping a large, melon-sized bubble of water from bursting on Kedar’s head. Not easy. He had to keep the water in its bubble form, keep it from falling and breaking, all the while Rainor did his best to piss him off. It was an exercise in control—of his magic and his temper.

  Which would keep the council off his back.

  One by one, the rest of Rainor’s quartet and a few others wandered over to watch him flick his finger, sending weighted balls flying at Drake from nearly every direction.

  Drake’s whole body was alive with the awareness of magic. Since the containment spell’s removal, he was more sensitive to it, especially where Jelena was concerned. His intuition guided him as he batted the balls away with his hands and feet, allowing him to keep his concentration on the bubble. “You’re really enjoying the hell out of this, aren’t you?”

  “Oh, yeah,” Rainor chuckled. “You should try it.”

  Maybe he would. With a look, Drake sent the ball in front of him flying. It hit Rainor in the abdomen, drawing a surprised oompf.

  Drake grinned. “You’re right. That—”

  A ripple of magic touched him—Jelena’s magic. He whirled around, searching for her. She was here. He—

  Oh damn. He jerked back to face Kedar. The bubble of water was a hair’s width away from Kedar’s head before he regained control.

  Kedar never moved, not even a flinch. “Concentrate! Let nothing distract you, not even the woman you love.”

  “The woman he loves?” Rainor laughed. “Woman of the week is more like it. Use them and lose them quicker than you can spell love, much less feel it. Isn’t that how it is?”

  Drake glared at him, then her. She stood behind Rainor, wearing a smile that set his blood on fire—in more ways than one. The color of the day was pink. Her uniform pants hugged her lean feminine hips and thighs, and white silk draped enticingly over her breasts. As pissed as he was, the fact that he noticed only pissed him off more.

  “He’s rather attractive don’t you think?” Jelena fingered her chin with one pink nail. “And what a sense of humor. I bet the lady who catches his attention will also catch his heart.”

  “I bet,” he whispered.