by S. M. Boyce
“He’s a pain in the ass.”
“They often are.”
Victoria chuckled, not caring if Shiloh had heard. She ran a finger over the metal hilt. “Why would removing it kill me?”
Fyrn hesitated, tapping his finger on his knee. “The fusion is complete. It becomes part of you, a fundamental, necessary organ in your body. You become dependent upon it the same way it is dependent upon you, and to remove it is like removing your heart or your brain.”
Victoria shuddered.
“That's part of why they’re feared,” Fyrn continued. “Dark magic takes more than it gives, but what it gives is powerful and absolute. Some believe the sacrifice required to wield dark magic corrupts the soul, and that you have to give up an element of who you are to use it.”
“That's why a host is killed on sight,” Victoria said.
Fyrn nodded. “It's that, but it's also the way the Rhazdon Artifacts are made.”
“What you mean?”
“Rhazdon was a creature of great power—a terror who idolized dark magic—and only he knew how to make these dark artifacts. When Rhazdon decided he wanted to immortalize a gift he saw in another and wield it himself, he would perform a very specific ritual. To create your artifact, for instance, Rhazdon likely identified a great warrior who was legendary on the battlefield, whose skill he wanted to gain for himself. To do that, Rhazdon took something of value to that person to lure him in and then murdered the warrior to fuse his soul with the weapon. The whole process is far more complicated, of course, but that's the essence of the ritual. That’s why there’s a ghost tied to the artifact.”
“And that’s why he’s a pain in the ass. He didn’t choose this life,” Victoria said, mortified.
“Exactly.”
“That's horrible!”
“It's inhumane, true, but it gets worse.”
“Of course it does.”
“To fuse with an artifact, there must be death.” Fyrn stared at her intently, and the gaze became a nudge in her side. He seemed to want her to share her own story.
Her throat burned, and a knot caught there as she remembered the way her father had pulled the dagger from his body and set it on her arm with his dying breath. Her voice betrayed her, and when she spoke, it came out almost to quietly to hear. “Yes, there was a death.”
“Whose?”
She glared at the floor. “My dad.”
Fyrn stared at her for a moment, a confused look on his face, but he seemed to realize after a moment what she was saying. “Your father sacrificed himself for you, killing himself so that you could have the Rhazdon Artifact?”
She nodded.
“Amazing.” Fyrn stood, papers crinkling under his feet as he paced the cluttered living room floor.
“I think you mean horrifying,” Victoria corrected.
Fyrn paused, staring at her as he processed what she had said. “Yes, I'm sure it was. I'm sure it gave you purpose. Drive. Fire.”
Victoria recalled the crackling flames as Luak’s magic burned down her childhood home. “You could say that.”
“It gave you a reason to fight.”
She nodded.
“Will you do what I tell you?”
She frowned at him, wondering where this was going.
He continued. “As your mentor, I will teach you what you need to know to master the Rhazdon Artifact in your arm. I will teach you to be the most powerful host in Fairhaven, perhaps in all the world. When you first came here, I turned you away because I have seen Rhazdon Artifacts corrupt host after host. I have seen them crumble and fall to their own greed and bloodlust, seen them destroy everything they hold dear for even a taste of more power. But you, Victoria, don't seem affected at all by the Rhazdon Artifact in your arm. That could be because of the way you received it or just because you're one of the few who can handle having dark magic in your body. But you have a gift. I can help you hone it, but you must do whatever I tell you. You must listen to me, even if you think I'm wrong.”
Victoria watched him, letting the silence settle between them as she debated how to answer. Never in her life had she followed orders if she thought they were wrong. Rules only worked when they made sense; anything less was tyranny.
“I promise,” she lied.
Fyrn nodded, apparently content with her answer. “We start in the morning. Over time, I’ll teach you to use magic. For now, you need to learn to control the Rhazdon Artifact itself.”
She perked up, curious. “Humans can wield magic?”
He shook his head. “Not all of them. Some have a mutant gene, giving them a powerful gift to use and control magic. However, it can be difficult to know who has the gene until they are close to a kemana.”
“So wizards are just humans?”
He snorted. “Not even remotely. We’re an entirely separate race, and a superior one at that. Every witch and wizard of merit belongs to the Order of the Silver Griffins, a society that protects magic and keeps it hidden. It’s a sacred responsibility we guard with our lives.”
She rolled her eyes.
From the other side of the room, he opened the door with a wave of his hand. “Go home. No detours. You know the way by now, I presume?”
She nodded. “When I got lost earlier, I just wasn’t paying attention. I was so angry.”
“We’ll have to work on your temper, then. Meet me here at sunrise, ready to learn.”
She laughed. “There's not really a sun down here.”
“Old habits. You know what I mean.” He smirked.
She nodded and stood. After all that had happened, she could use a good night's rest.
***
Victoria knocked on Bertha's door, leaning her head against the doorframe as she yearned for bed.
The entrance swung open. Audrey stood in the foyer with a panicked look on her face, and she pulled Victoria into a tight hug—so tight that Victoria could barely breathe.
“I'm fine,” she managed to say, breathless.
“You scared me shitless,” Audrey said, a hand on each of Victoria’s shoulders as she studied her face.
“You and me both,” Victoria said with a chuckle.
“What happened?”
Victoria smiled, the grin so broad it hurt her face. “I have so much to tell you.”
Chapter 19
The next day, Victoria followed Fyrn as he led her through the city. Styx hummed beside her, lazily swerving from side to side as he flew. This early in the morning there weren't many people to watch her, a definite plus to getting up early despite the fact she had bags under her eyes. She had a deep desire to crawl up in the nearest patch of moss and go back to sleep.
The longer they walked, the fewer creatures they saw, and finally Fyrn led her to a tunnel entrance. As the light faded, the stone on the top of his walking stick began to glow. The light had a similar effect to a car’s high beam, blazing the way with a brilliant ray of light. The ground began to slope downward, gently first and then steeper and steeper until she had to set her hand against the wall for balance. Despite his limp Fyrn didn’t seem to have any problems, and she wondered if a spell were involved with his sudden grace. With him a bit ahead and barely a word spoken between them, Fyrn led the way through tunnel after tunnel, twisting as the route led them deep into the caves beneath Fairhaven.
Their last tunnel ended in a towering cavern with thousands of glittering green crystals embedded in the walls lighting the space. A waterfall crashed into a small lake in the corner, and moss grew on every inch of the ground. In the distance, a meadow of waist-high purple grass covered at least half of the cavern.
Fyrn spun on his heel, tapping his staff twice on the mossy ground. “Let's begin.”
***
Victoria skidded along the moss from Fyrn’s latest blow, ending up half-submerged in the purple grass. It tickled her with tiny sparks of electricity like an anemone, and she quickly rolled out of it.
Splinters of pain pulsed in her shoulder. She nur
sed it, wishing she had some idea how long they had been down here. Since this cave was illuminated by its own crystals, she wasn't sure if it had a sunset and sunrise. It seemed like she and Fyrn had been in the cave for days, and judging by the ache in her bones from being thrown across the cavern so many times, she was far overdue for a break.
Each magical blast reminded her of the flames that destroyed her home and singed her skin, but she swallowed hard in an effort to ignore the flashbacks. Dwelling on the past wouldn’t help her now.
Her hair hung loose around her face, as most of it had come out of the ponytail she tied this morning. Her body screamed for rest, longing to simply lie down for a moment. She forced herself to her feet, swaying a little until she recovered her balance.
“We'll take a short break,” Fyrn said, giving her a once-over. Styx, hovering beside the wizard, peeked through his hands and nodded in agreement.
Victoria shook her head. She hadn't come this far to take breaks. Luak certainly wouldn't rest, and she had a long way to go to catch up to him. She could stomach a little pain. It was worth it.
“No. Again,” she said, settling into her stance as she prepared once more to summon a shield. Hopefully this time it would work.
Fyrn's lips curved in the barest hint of a smile. “Very well.”
As he had instructed, Victoria tensed her right arm and imagined a small shield hanging from her hand. She took measured breaths, focusing all her energy and attention toward creating the metal disc. This time a warm, tingling sensation shot through her arms, and weight pressed against her palm. She peeked through one eye to find herself holding a small version of her shield, barely the size of her head.
Her heart leapt with joy, but she didn't let her focus waiver. She studied the exposed Rhazdon Artifact, trying to figure out where the metal had come from, to understand at least something about the dark magic in her arm. The shield’s handle didn’t seem to be attached to the artifact at all.
As her attention faded, the shield flickered and dissolved into the air, disappearing entirely a mere minute after it had been summoned. Still, that was longer than she had managed to hold it thus far.
Something hit her square in the chest, shooting her backward into the purple grass. Landing hard on her shoulder blades, she couldn’t stem the stream of curse words that escaped her. The grass stung her, each tiny jolt of electricity a bit more painful than the last. Ignoring the pins and needles in her fingertips and toes from the fall, she pushed herself to her feet and ran out of the meadow as fast as she could. Her chest still hummed from the painful pulse of energy her mentor had thrown at her.
“Why do you insist on doing that?” she snapped.
“You need to get used to being hit. When you summon a sword or shield, you are exposing yourself as a host, and you should expect to be attacked. I'm merely preparing you.”
“Gee, thanks,” she said dryly.
“You're quite welcome.”
She rolled her eyes, hands on her hips as she stared at him. Maybe he didn't understand sarcasm.
He nodded at her arm. “One of these days you'll be able to block those energy pulses with that shield. Until then, make sure you ice your muscles every night.”
She groaned. This would hurt.
Chapter 20
Hunched over a stack of crates outside Bertha’s store, Audrey put her chin in her hands and blew a raspberry.
Bored.
She honestly felt a bit useless. She wished she knew magic. Hell, a part of her wished she had some kind of dark magic in her body, too. Even that was better than waiting in front of Bertha's shop for someone to buy a plit.
The stairs behind her creaked, and she knew without looking that Bertha had joined her outside. Sure enough, the shop’s door clicked shut a second later.
“You're unhappy,” Bertha said. It wasn’t a question. It sounded more like an observation.
Audrey shrugged. “We came here to help Victoria, not me. I just wish I...”
When Audrey trailed off, Bertha gently nudged her shoulder. “What bothers you, little one?”
The answer was simple, yet impossible to put into words without immense guilt. Audrey wished she were special. God, it killed her to even admit that to herself, much less to Bertha.
For as long as she had known Victoria, Audrey had played second fiddle. She didn’t mind for the most part, since it had been going on so long. Victoria was the gorgeous one and Audrey was the best friend. It had always been that way, and Victoria had always looked out for her. But since Audrey had come to Fairhaven, something had shifted within her. This place made her crave something more, something significant.
Bertha leaned on the crates as well, the wood straining from her weight as she set her elbows on the corners and watched the crowd pass. “I don't quite know what your friend Victoria is up to, and that's your business. But I can tell she's got something you wish you had. Can you at least tell me what that is?”
Audrey stared at her fingers, struggling to find the words. They had to be careful, even though Bertha had done so much for them. It still wasn't clear who they could trust with Victoria’s secret, and Audrey wasn't about to expose her childhood friend for what she really was.
“She’s training with Fyrn?” Bertha asked.
Audrey stiffened, but in hindsight it must have been obvious considering who they had asked for the night they met the ogre. She nodded.
“And for whatever reason, he didn't take you as his pupil as well,” Bertha added.
Audrey hesitated. She knew the reason: she didn't have dark magic embedded in her forearm. Victoria would take more time to train, and thus she was his primary focus. Understandable, if hard to swallow. Instead of clarifying, she nodded again.
Bertha gestured to her next-door neighbor. “Watch the shop for me, will you?”
The old ogre nodded.
“And you, little one, come with me,” Bertha said with a stern look at Audrey over the bridge of her nose.
Audrey followed Bertha through the house, past the enchanted shelves filled with various meats and jars that somehow remained fresh despite a lack of refrigeration. Together, they lumbered through the kitchen and out into the backyard. For the first time since their arrival, Bertha opened the lock on the little shack in the back of the yard, standing outside and gesturing for Audrey to enter first.
Cautiously, Audrey ducked inside, scanning the walls without being sure what she would find.
Weapons. Holy shit, there were so many weapons.
The interior was far larger than it should have been, and the floor-to-ceiling mirrors on three of the walls reminded Audrey of her old dance studios. The fourth wall, which also held the door, was covered in every kind of weapon Audrey had ever seen in her life and then some. From swords to daggers to throwing stars, Bertha seemed to own at least one of everything. There was even a collection of oddly shaped blades the height of her body, with no hilts. In the center of it all were four wooden dummies, each riddled with scars from the blades and modeled after a different creature. Audrey recognized the ogre, wizard, and elf, but the last one was new.
Adrenalin shot through her as she wondered why Bertha had brought her in here, or why Bertha would even have access to such a place. She was a chef, a grocery store clerk, a small business owner. The lumbering ogre didn't strike Audrey as a fighter.
The floor creaked as Bertha entered and shut the door behind her. “This is my secret, Audrey. My joy. And should you want to share it with me, I will teach you what I know. You are a kind soul, little one, but I will teach you to be fierce as well. You can use these gifts for good, to help Victoria, if that’s what you want. If not, at least you will be strong.”
Bertha reached for a sword as long as Audrey’s body and spun it, the blade moving so quickly that Audrey could see only blurs. Bertha embedded the blade in a tall wooden dummy in the middle of the floor. The resulting thunk echoed in the training space, sending a gleeful shiver down Audrey’s back.
<
br /> “Shall we begin?” Bertha quirked a giant eyebrow.
A broad grin stretched over Audrey's face. “Teach me everything.”
***
Audrey practiced her swings in the bedroom she shared with Victoria late into the night, careful to move slowly so as not to slice the bedspreads or curtains. Bertha had begun to teach her the basics of wielding one of the smallest swords, as well as the difference between a powerful stance and one meant only to intimidate an opponent. It all came so easily, so effortlessly, that Audrey’s spirits had been renewed. She had so impressed Bertha, in fact, that they were going to visit the ogre’s brother tomorrow to talk about Audrey joining his Berserk team.
Perhaps she could be a bit special after all.
The stairs creaked, far too quietly for it to be Bertha. Victoria must've come home. Audrey paused her practice, leaning the sword in one corner so she wouldn't maim whoever walked through the door. Sure enough, the door swung open a second later and smacked against the opposite wall. Victoria entered, eyes already drooping, long tears in her clothes. Quite a few burn marks had eaten significant chunks of her sleeves, and her hair was a frizzled mess. She collapsed on the bed, which Audrey was now paying for, and closed her eyes.
“Fun day?” Audrey said with a grin.
“Shut up,” Victoria mumbled.
“Make any progress?”
Victoria nodded and sat upright, lifting her hands and staring at them. Her eyes narrowed a bit, and she clenched her hands into fists. A small shield appeared on her right hand, and a tiny dagger in her other palm. Audrey held her breath, waiting for them to disappear again, but they remained.
“It's something,” Victoria said, the shield and dagger disappearing as she relaxed her grip on them.
“It's a lot better than something. You couldn’t even come close to that this morning. You’re learning fast.”
Victoria nodded. “This is the hardest thing I've ever done, but it's worth it. I'm not going to stop until I master it.”
“Good. That's why we’re here, after all.”
