The Sorcery Code

by Dima Zales

  A quick spell later, she was entering the hallway, seeing the familiar furnishings and paintings on the walls.

  Looking for either Blaise himself or the evidence of his addiction, Augusta slowly walked through the empty house, her heart aching at the flood of memories. How could this have happened to them? She should’ve fought harder for Blaise; she should’ve tried to explain, to make him understand. Perhaps she should’ve even swallowed her pride and groveled—an idea that had seemed unthinkable at the time.

  Starting with the downstairs, Augusta went into the storage area, where she remembered him keeping important magical supplies. Opening the cabinets, she found several jars with Life Capture droplets, but there was nothing extraordinary about that. Most sorcerers—even Augusta herself, to some degree—used the Life Captures to record important events in their lives or their work.

  One cupboard drew her attention. In there, she saw more jars that didn’t seem to be sorcery-related. Blaise always labeled everything, so she came closer, trying to see what was written on them.

  To her surprise, she saw that all the jars had one word on them: Louie. These were likely Blaise’s memories of his brother, she realized. The fact that he still had them—that he hadn’t consumed them as a hardened addict would—gave her some small measure of hope. One of those jars looked particularly intriguing; it had a skull-and-bone symbol on it, as healers would sometimes put on deadly poisons. She had no idea what it could be.

  In the corner of the room, she saw some broken jars on the floor. Amidst pieces of glass, there were more droplets, lying there as though they were trash. Curious, Augusta approached the corner.

  To her shock, on a few of the jars, she saw labels with her name on them. Blaise’s memories of her . . . He must’ve thrown them away in a fit of rage. Closing her eyes, she drew in a deep, shuddering breath, trying to keep the tears that were burning her eyes from escaping. She hadn’t expected this visit to be so painful, the memories to be so fresh.

  Reaching down, she pocketed one of the droplets, doing her best to avoid cutting her hand on the shards of glass lying all around it. Then, trying to regain her equilibrium, she exited the room and headed upstairs.

  All around her, she could see dust-covered windowsills and musty-looking furnishings. Whatever Blaise’s mental state, he clearly wasn’t taking care of his house. Not a good sign, as far as she was concerned.

  Going from room to room, she determined that Blaise wasn’t there after all. Relieved, Augusta realized that he must’ve left the house after all. That was a good sign, as addicts rarely came out unnecessarily. Unless they ran out of Life Captures—which Blaise hadn’t, judging by the jars downstairs. Could it be that Ganir was wrong again? After all, his spies had apparently misinformed him about the size of the peasant army Barson’s men would be facing. Why not this also? But if they weren’t wrong, then what did Blaise want with all those Life Captures he’d been getting?

  Consumed with curiosity, she entered Blaise’s study again, the familiar surroundings making her chest tighten. They’d spent so much time here together, exploring new spells and coming up with new coding methodologies. This was where they’d invented the Interpreter Stone and the simplified arcane language to go with it—a discovery that had transformed the entire field of sorcery.

  Perhaps she should leave now. It was obvious that Blaise wasn’t home, and Augusta no longer felt comfortable invading his privacy in this way.

  Turning, she started walking out of the room when an open set of scrolls caught her attention. They were ancient and intricate, reminding her of the type of writings she’d seen in the library of Dania, another Council member. As though her feet had a mind of their own, Augusta found herself approaching the scrolls and picking them up.

  To her shock, she saw that they had been written by Lenard the Great himself—except she’d never seen these notes before. She and Blaise had studied everything the great sorcerer had done; without the base of knowledge laid by Lenard and his students, they would’ve never been able to create the Interpreter Stone and the accompanying magical language. She should’ve come across these scrolls before, and the fact that she was seeing them now for the first time was incredible.

  Skimming them in disbelief, Augusta comprehended the extent of the wealth of knowledge Blaise had been concealing from the world. These old scrolls contained the theories on which Lenard the Great had based his oral spells—the theories that provided a glimpse into the nature of the Spell Realm itself.

  Why had Blaise not told anyone about them? Now even more curious, she reached for another set of notes lying on the desk.

  It was a journal, she saw immediately—Blaise’s recording of his work.

  Fascinated, Augusta riffled through the papers and began reading.

  And as she read, she felt the fine hair on the back of her neck rising. What was contained in these notes was so horrifying she could hardly believe her eyes.

  Putting down the journal, she cast a frantic glance around the study, wanting to convince herself that this couldn’t possibly be real—that it was all the ramblings of a madman. Her gaze fell upon the Life Capture Sphere, and she saw a single droplet glittering inside.

  Reaching for it with a trembling hand, she put it in her mouth, letting the experience consume her.

  * * *

  Sitting there in his study, Blaise couldn’t stop thinking about Gala—about his wondrous, beautiful creation. Closing his eyes, he pictured her in his mind—the perfect features of her face, the deep intelligence gleaming in her mysterious blue eyes. He wondered what she would become. Right now, she was like a child, new to everything, but he could already see the potential for her intellect and abilities to surpass anything the world had ever seen.

  His attraction to her was as startling as it was worrisome. She was his creation. How could he feel this way about her? Even with Augusta, he hadn’t experienced this kind of immediate connection.

  Trying to suppress those thoughts, he turned his attention to the fascinating matter of her origin. The way she’d described the Spell Realm was intriguing; he would’ve given anything to witness its wonders himself.

  Perhaps there was a way. After all, Gala’s mind was quite human-like, and she had survived there . . .

  * * *

  Gasping, Augusta regained her sense of self. Breathing heavily, she stared around the study, reeling from what she’d just seen. What had Blaise done? What kind of monstrosity had he created?

  This was a disaster of epic proportions. If Augusta understood correctly, Blaise had made an inhuman intelligence. An unnatural mind that nobody—not even Blaise himself—could comprehend. What would this creature want? What would it be capable of?

  Unbidden, an old myth about a sorcerer who had tried to create life entered Augusta’s mind, making her stomach roil. It was the kind of tale that peasants and children believed, and logically, Augusta knew there was no truth to it. But she still couldn’t help thinking about it, remembering the first time she’d read the horror story as a child—and how frightened she had been then, waking up screaming from nightmares of a ghoulish creature that killed its creator and his entire village. Later on, Augusta had learned the truth—that the sorcerer in question had actually been experimenting with cross-breeding various animal species and that one of his creations (a wolf-bear hybrid) had escaped and wreaked havoc on the neighboring town. Still, by then it was too late. The story had left an indelible impression on Augusta’s young mind, and even as an adult, the idea of unnatural life terrified her.

  Blaise’s creation, however, was not a myth. She—it—was an artificially created monster with potentially unlimited powers. For all they knew, it could destroy the world and every human being in it.

  And Blaise was attracted to it. The thought made Augusta so sick she thought she might throw up.

  No. She couldn’t allow this to happen. She had to do something. Grabbing Lenard’s scrolls, Augusta tucked them in her bag. Then, consumed by r
age and fear, she channeled her emotions into a cleansing fire spell—and let it loose in the room.

  Chapter 22: Blaise

  Flying back home, Blaise tried to convince himself that he’d done the right thing—that Gala needed to see the world on her own, to experience everything she wanted. The fact that he already missed her was not a good reason to limit her freedom.

  His trip back was much faster than his flight to the village. He’d purposefully gone slower before, giving Gala a chance to see Turingrad, but now there was no reason to linger. He knew this town like the back of his hand, and there were far too many unpleasant memories associated with this view—especially that of the gloomy silhouette of the Tower.

  Passing by the Town Square, he remembered how Esther would yell at him for swimming in the fountain as a child. As a boy, he had enjoyed diving for the coins, and she had always scolded him, saying that it was inappropriate for a sorcerer’s son to be swimming in the dirty fountain water.

  Thinking of Esther and watching the people below, he reflected on what he had tried to do for them. He had wanted to give them the power to do magic, to improve their lives. And instead, he’d ended up creating something miraculous—a beautiful, intelligent woman who was as far removed from an inanimate object as anything he could imagine. He might have failed in his original task, but he couldn’t regret having Gala here. Knowing her had already brightened his life immeasurably. For the first time since Louie’s death, Blaise felt some measure of excitement—happiness, even.

  Being without her for the next few days would be a challenge. He needed to find something to do to occupy his mind, Blaise decided.

  One thing that occurred to him was the challenge of figuring out why Gala couldn’t do magic. By all rights, as an intelligence born in the Spell Realm, she should have the ability to do magic directly, without relying on all the spells and conventions that sorcerers used. It should be as natural to her as breathing—and yet it didn’t seem to be, for now at least.

  What would happen if a regular human mind ended up in the Spell Realm? The crazy idea startled Blaise with its simplicity. Would that mind die immediately—or would it be able to return to the Physical Realm, perhaps imbued with new powers and abilities?

  The more he thought about it, the more exciting the idea seemed. The way Gala had described the Spell Realm had been wonderful, and it would be amazing if a person—if he himself—could see it (or experience it using whatever sense passed for sight in that place).

  Would it be insane for him to try to go there? To enter the Spell Realm himself? Most people would think so, he knew, but most people lacked real vision, rarely taking the kind of risks that led to true greatness.

  What would happen if he did succeed in entering the Spell Realm? Would he gain the kind of powers he suspected Gala might have? If so, he would be unstoppable—the most powerful sorcerer who ever lived. He would be Gala’s equal, and if she still didn’t master magic by then, he could even teach her how to harness her inherent abilities. He would be able to do what he’d only dreamed of so far: implement real change, real improvement in the world.

  He would be a legend, like Lenard the Great.

  Taking a deep breath, Blaise told himself to calm down. This was all great in theory, but he had no idea if this would be feasible or safe in practice. He would have to be careful and methodical in his approach.

  After all, he now had something—or rather, someone—very important to live for.

  * * *

  Landing next to his house, Blaise stared in shock at the red chaise sitting in front of his door.

  A very familiar chaise—one that had been the prototype for them all.

  Augusta’s chaise.

  And it was in front of his house.

  What was his former fiancée doing here? Blaise felt his heartbeat quickening and his chest tightening with a mixture of anger and anxiety. Why did she come here today of all days?

  Mentally bracing himself, he opened the door and entered the house.

  She was walking down the stairs as he entered the large entrance hall. At the sight of her, Blaise felt the familiar sharp ache. She was as stunning as he remembered, her dark brown hair smooth and piled on top of her head, her amber-colored eyes like ancient coins. He couldn’t help comparing her darkly sensual looks to Gala’s pale, otherworldly beauty. When Augusta smiled, she often looked mischievous, but the expression on her face now was that of shock and fear.

  “What have you done?” she whispered, staring at him. “Blaise, what have you done?”

  Blaise felt his blood turning to ice. Of all the people out there, Augusta was one of the few who could’ve made sense of his notes so quickly. “What are you doing here?” he asked, stalling for time. Perhaps he was wrong; perhaps she didn’t know everything.

  “I came by to check on you.” Her voice shook slightly. “I wanted to see if you were all right. But you’re not, are you? You’ve gone completely insane—”

  “What are you talking about?” Blaise interrupted.

  “I know about the abomination you created.” Her eyes glittered brightly. “I know about this thing you’ve unleashed on the world.”

  “Augusta, please, calm down . . .” Blaise tried to inject a soothing note into his voice. “Let’s talk about this. What exactly are you accusing me of?”

  Her face flamed with sudden color. “I am accusing you of creating a terrible creature of magic that can think for itself,” she hissed, her hands clenching into fists. “A horror that, to your own surprise, took on a human shape!”

  So she knew everything. This was bad. Really bad. Blaise couldn’t let her go to the Council with this information, but how was he supposed to stop her? “Look, Augusta,” he said, thinking on his feet, “I think you misunderstood the situation. It’s true that I tried to create an intelligent object, but I failed. I didn’t succeed—”

  “Don’t lie to me!” she yelled, and he was struck by her uncharacteristic loss of composure. He had never seen her in this kind of state before; in all the years that he’d known her, she’d raised her voice only a handful of times.

  “I know you had Lenard’s notes, which you hid from everyone,” she said furiously. “You are the ultimate hypocrite. You, who always said knowledge should be shared, even with the common people. Oh, and before you insult me with any more lies, you should know that I used that droplet in your Sphere. I know that you created it and that it took human shape—and I saw your perverted reaction to it.” If looks could kill, the expression on her face would have left him in a pile of dust.

  “You’re wrong,” Blaise said heatedly, figuring he had nothing left to lose. “It lived for a while, but it went back to the Spell Realm shortly after I made that recording. Its Physical Realm manifestation was not stable. You saw the notes; you know I left its physical form open-ended.”

  She stared at him, her eyes bright with emotion. “Liar. I don’t believe a single word you’re saying. You don’t even know what you’ve done. This thing could lead to the extinction of our entire race—”

  “What?” Blaise said incredulously. “How could it lead to the extinction of our race? Even if it was stable, that doesn’t make sense—”

  “It’s not human!” Augusta was clearly beside herself. “It’s an unnatural creature with unimaginable powers. You don’t know what it’s capable of; for all you know, it could wipe us out with one blink of its pretty blue eyes!”

  “Augusta, listen to me,” Blaise tried to reason with her. “She is intelligent—highly intelligent. She would have no reason to do something so cruel. With intelligence comes benevolence. I have always believed that—”

  “Just because you believe it, doesn’t mean it’s true,” she said, her voice shaking with anger. “And even if you’re right, even if this thing doesn’t intend us any harm now, its mere existence puts us all in jeopardy. If it has its own intelligence—an unnatural intelligence that was created, not born—it can spawn more creatures like itself, pe
rhaps even smarter and more powerful. Then those new abominations will create something even more frightening, and this cycle can go on until we are nothing but ants to these beings. They will stomp on us, like we’re nothing more than cockroaches. Mark my words, this will be the beginning of the end.”

  Blaise stared at Augusta in shock, struck by the idea of Gala creating others like herself. He hadn’t considered this possibility before, but it made sense in a strange way. Except he didn’t see it as a bad thing, the way Augusta did. In fact, he thought with excitement, this could be the development that would finally change their world for the better. He pictured highly intelligent, all-knowing, all-powerful beings that would view humanity as their parent race . . . and the vision was tremendously appealing.

  Then another possibility occurred to him. If he succeeded in his goal of getting to the Spell Realm and gaining powers, then the line between the beings he just envisioned and humans would become blurred anyway. Even if Augusta’s fears had some basis in reality—which he strongly doubted—humans could end up being equals of these marvelous creatures.

  Of course, sharing these thoughts with Augusta would not be the smartest move at this point. “Look, Augusta, even if you’re right,” he said instead, “these beings would not want to harm us. They would be too much like us. With higher intelligence, they will surely possess a morality that will be above ours. We don’t have anything to fear—”

  “You’re a fool.” Augusta’s expression was full of scorn. “Does morality stop you from squashing a pesky insect?”

  “If I knew the little critter was self-aware, I would not kill it.” Blaise was firmly convinced of that fact. “And if I knew it was my creator, I certainly would not.”

  “You’re just blinded by lust,” she hissed, her beautiful features twisting into something ugly. “It’s not human! This creature of yours is not real. It’s not going to love you, like you want it to. Did you design it to be capable of emotions? Of love?” And without giving Blaise a chance to respond, she said snidely, “No, of course you didn’t. You didn’t even know it would look like a woman.”