by Lucia Ashta
In the very next moment, the pit of lava within me urged me beyond ideas, back to the place where I’d best connected with my powers. Gone were the thoughts of what I could and couldn’t do. Gone were the decisions of what I wouldn’t.
As if my magic were controlling me and not the other way around, I took slow, steady steps across the dirt floor. My physical eyes were closed, and they wouldn’t have been able to see in the dark like Nando could anyway. I saw everything I needed to see, however, only I saw it in sheets of undulating color and light. As if I were in a dream, where colors wove my reality instead of hard lines, I advanced.
“Get her away from me!” Maurisse yelled, though he had no minion to jump to do his bidding this time.
“Did you respect the hundreds of people you killed when they asked you to stay away from them?” Nando asked.
“They deserved it,” Maurisse said weakly, though surely he must have realized none of us would believe his lie. I’d met Ama and heard her story; she hadn’t deserved her death or eternal condemnation. I’d bet then neither did the thousands of others he’d punished. Because I was certain of that one fact: Maurisse hadn’t killed hundreds; he’d killed thousands. He intended to kill hundreds of thousands, even if it was to be the effect of his upturning of the magical world and not directly by his hand.
The decision was clear: it was either him or most of the world’s population. He’d devastate as permanently as the Black Death.
The power simmering within me had no difficulty resolving the right course of action. My heart protested what seemed like murder. My magic explained that it wasn’t murder, it was the restoration of balance. It was wiping one man from history so that many more could occupy it.
When I continued to resist, my magic stopped trying to persuade me. It was on a trajectory it deemed worthy, and for the moment, I was coming along.
I drew to a complete stop in front of the sorcerer. I was still and serene even as he pressed his back into the railing behind him, trying to escape.
There was no escaping the amount of power that brewed inside me.
Once more, actions distilled themselves into still shots. Impressions of what was happening, as if I watched, detached, from above.
My arms rose to my sides, my palms turning to face the sorcerer. The fire in my palms pulsed as it reacted to the darkness that seethed from the heart of the man before me.
He no longer was the impeccably dressed, impeccably pressed, man of leisure who had the ear of the king. He was a cornered, wild beast, and his facial expressions morphed to resemble one.
He snarled and cowered.
My magic bubbled to the point of eruption and leapt forward.
It happened so quickly that I struggled to register everything that took place.
An orange, glowing light, thick and viscous as if it truly were lava, shot from my hands.
As soon as it hit him, he screamed, and my mind hurried to block out the sound. For even though he was a man who’d had no problems inflicting pain on others, when the tables were turned, he shrieked like an innocent.
The light streamed in two long, steady strings of fire. Of heat. Of power. Of my magic.
And Maurisse lit up like a light bulb. He glowed from within for a few prolonged seconds, making him seem nearly beautiful, as if the darkness he’d allowed to consume him could be replaced with light.
But it soon changed. The steady stream of magic was too much for his physical vessel to contain. He cracked beneath the pressure. His body glowed softly, but where cracks and crevices began to form, the pure molten heat of my magic shone through.
It was in that moment that I realized I was killing him.
Panicked, I tried to pull back, to rein my magic in. For an instant, I feared it was already too late. But then I felt my power respond, allowing me the final choice.
Maurisse had certainly learned a lesson already, but would it be enough to keep him from enacting his plan to reveal magic to the entire planet?
As if Nando sensed my qualms, he spoke up then. Only I couldn’t make out his words. All I could hear was the pulsing of my heart, in perfect synchronicity with the roaring of the fire, whooshing through my veins, filling every single part of me.
Nando moved next to me, his sword sheathed, and both hands in the air, looking for a safe place to touch me. In the end, he didn’t, and I imagined that if my fire was lighting Maurisse like the sun, I might look something like it. He’d been smart not to touch me. I’d never want to hurt him, and I wasn’t sure I had enough control over myself to ensure I wouldn’t.
In the end it was Sir Lancelot’s voice that managed to reach me in that place I was. The owl, who’d been weak to the point of total debility before this started, had regained some of his strength.
He called out, in a strong, pure voice that reached me in my heart. “Don’t stop now, Lady Isa. You must kill him, even if you don’t want to. Men like him never stop hurting others.”
That alone might not have convinced me entirely, and I might still have pulled back. But then he said, “Your magic is seeking to return balance to the world. Your magic wants to remove his darkness. Your power is pure. Allow it to do as it must.”
That did it. Because in my heart I felt that what the wise owl said was true. Killing a man wasn’t what I wanted to do. Removing a sorcerer and the darkness he’d hosted was what magic needed to do.
Who was I to stand in the way of magic? Who was I to understand something so much greater than I? I couldn’t question it, not really, and so I shouldn’t. I wouldn’t.
I stood aside in the only way I could. I shut my thoughts and doubts down, and returned to that place of instinct alone, where I didn’t question the flow of my magic, but experienced myself as one with it.
My power responded instantly. It sparked with renewed vigor. Its glow intensified.
And as it streamed with gathering force inside the body of the sorcerer, who was no more than flesh, blood, and bone, it overpowered him.
The crevices that criss-crossed his skin widened until they became ravines. The heat I sent within him began also to dissolve his flesh, and pin points of glow popped up all over his skin, like a bad case of lethal pox.
His skin thinned into something no thicker than rice parchment. The glow within grew brighter, shining now like sun rays through the cracks, beaming and lighting up the dungeon.
His lips settled into the last expression he’d ever consciously make, frozen in a scream of terror.
And then he burst from within. The power inside him exploded, shattering him into a million pieces of gore.
The remains of his human body raced toward us, and Nando dove between the now-dead man and me to protect me from the filth that was about to bathe us.
But it didn’t. Just before the bits of Maurisse met with Nando, they disintegrated. Fully absorbed by the light of my magic, the remains of the duke evaporated in speckled bursts, then disappeared into nothing. Like dying stars twinkling before vanishing from sight.
Without a doubt, the duke would never harm another living being again. He was as dead as they got.
Chapter 5
“Bravo, Lady Isa!” Sir Lancelot called to me, his voice suddenly clear. The death of our self-declared archenemy must have given him a burst of strength.
But I was still faraway, at one with my magic, and even though my magic had been the one to choose the path that brought about Maurisse’s death, it didn’t revel in his end. Magic, like nature, like all life, sought balance. Now that it had achieved balance, my magic was in the process of settling, of retreating to the well within me where it always was—and where now I’d never forget its presence.
“Isa, are you all right?” Nando asked. This time, he dared to place a hand on my arm, although I must have still looked volatile.
His touch startled me, making me jump.
“Shh, it’s just me. You’re fine. Nothing’s going to hurt you now,” he said, but I couldn’t help the question that p
opped into my mind, faint and timid. And my magic? Will it ever hurt me if I lose control of it?
I received no answer, nor any understanding greater than the knowledge that the power I harnessed was immense. Like anything so powerful, I imagined it could cause devastation easily. Much like a tornado or hurricane, a tidal wave or tsunami.
Nature, like my magic, was mighty. And sometimes it took things to the point that humans wouldn’t easily survive it.
I suspected my only hope was to learn more about my magic. Instead of tucking it away safely inside, where it couldn’t cause too much damage, I needed to let it flex its might, find its limitations, and learn to listen to me, so that one day, if I ever needed to, I might succeed in reining it in.
After my display here today, I suspected Mordecai and the rest of the teachers would make a priority of teaching me how to direct the force I contained.
“Isa?” Nando said, this time more insistent. “Please come back to me.”
He didn’t say it, but I could tell seeing me this way frightened him, at least a little. He’d seen his little sister blow up a man. Surely, that must be upsetting, no matter who the man was.
I tried to form words to soothe him, but discovered I couldn’t manage it yet. I remained more connected to that flowing magic within me than the outside world. I identified with the fluidity of my powers that didn’t require rules or spells, only belief. That was simpler....
“You need to contain your magic and come back to me.”
I couldn’t stand the subtle panic in his voice. So I did what he asked.
I didn’t want to pull away from my powers and I had to remind myself that there was no permanent disconnecting anymore, not in any real sense. My magic would forever hum within me, and just as soon as I got the chance, I’d pull it out to learn... and to play. For life isn’t worth living if we don’t make time for a little fun.
I couldn’t say anything to assure Nando, but I found that I could nod. He released a quick sigh of relief but didn’t speak, allowing me to focus.
He left my side and went to check on Sir Lancelot, talking to him in whispers not to distract me, though I heard every word.
“Are you all right, Sir Lancelot?” Nando scooped the owl from the floor into his palms.
“Thank you, kind sir. I am better, of that I’m certain, but flight remains a few days out for me, I fear.”
“You sound much better. I’m happy to hear it.”
“As am I, as am I.” The owl paused, and I allowed myself to focus on their conversation. It would guide me back to the world they occupied. “I’m so relieved that sorcerer is dead,” the owl continued. “My mother was Irish, you know.”
“No, I’m sorry, I didn’t. You haven’t spoken of your family.”
“Well, she was wonderful and she had this saying. ‘A bad weed never dies.’ I’d started to think that Maurisse might be a bit like that, especially since he had the protection of the king.”
The king.... The thought of him flicked a concern to life in my mind, bringing me closer to the outside world. What was it? Oh, yes, what were we going to do about the king now that his brother was dead?
Each precise thought expanded the distance between my magic and me. The fire settled in the well deep inside, in my center, and diminished to a simmer. There were no more bursts, pops, or sparks. It calmed, seemingly content that it’d restored balance, and it didn’t resist the barriers I’d begun to construct between it and me.
I smiled, feeling at peace myself, and it was then that I realized I had more control over my facial muscles. I worked to form words. “I-I’ll be all right,” I managed to tell Nando, and he swooped in and gave me a one-armed hug, while he held Sir Lancelot off to the side.
“Oh, Isa. I’m so relieved!”
I forced my mind to latch onto his words and left my magic entirely behind—though always within reach; I was certain of that now.
When he went to pull away, we discovered that I’d leaned my weight into him. I swayed, and he hurried to tuck me into his side.
Me knees buckled and the edges of my vision darkened. “I-I can’t....”
“Don’t try to talk,” Nando said. “I’m going to lower you to the floor. We’re going to take it slow, all right?”
The idea was sound, but my body had other plans. I collapsed, dragging him down with me. We landed in a heap; it was a miracle that he managed to protect the owl through the fall.
But that was my brother, always the protector. He finished settling me gently, then placed the owl in his lap.
“I can’t see anything anymore,” I slurred.
“I’m an owl, and I can scarcely see in here. There isn’t even a hint of light, not even coming from beneath the door.”
“Nando can....”
“Lord Nando can see? In here?” I’d rarely heard the owl incredulous, but I understood why he sounded that way now. Sir Lancelot’s eyes were enormous, shaped to see in the depth of night. But this wasn’t a natural darkness. It was stuffy and enclosed... and I was suddenly growing desperate to get out.
“I can, but you can’t. I’m going to fix that right now, though,” Nando said.
“How?” This was possibly the first time I’d heard Sir Lancelot utter just one word. He wasn’t an owl bothered by the efficiency of communication, but rather by its elegance.
“I remember Walt’s spell, that light one. The one you said was child’s play.” With Maurisse dead, his spell forbidding magic in the dungeon should have died along with him.
“Oh, very well then. Have at it. And if you forget any of it, Lord Nando, feel free to call on me. I’ll be happy to recite it to you.”
But Nando didn’t take the owl up on his offer, and I suspected I knew the reason why. I’d revealed that I possessed incredible power. My brother, though not jealous when it came to me, hadn’t yet shown powers beyond his astonishing eyesight.
He needed to prove himself through this small spell, if only to himself. His voice was tremulous at the beginning, but quickly gathered strength.
“Bring forth light to the darkness.
Illuminate that which hides in shadows.
Bring forth a flame that doesn’t harm,
but gives only ease to the sight.”
I smiled as a miniscule wisp of light was born of nothing, then hovered next to us.
Nando gasped happily, as if he hadn’t truly believed he would do it no matter what he’d said. I wondered if that was the reason magicians needed spells, because they didn’t believe they could perform magic otherwise.
“I did it,” Nando whispered, awe and excitement lighting up his face beneath the soft, warm glow of the wisp.
“That you did, Lord Nando,” Sir Lancelot said. “Was that, I pray ask, your first spell?”
“It was indeed.” Nando beamed, unconcerned by how small the spell he’d performed was. It was his first overt demonstration of magic.
“Then you certainly have well and truly begun your studies of magic now, I dare say,” the little owl intoned, clearly feeling much better. He sat in Nando’s palm, but he was more alert and sturdy than he’d been before Maurisse’s death.
“I believe I have begun my magical path, Sir Lancelot,” Nando said. His enthusiasm was infectious, and I too easily forgot that a man was now dead because of me.
“It’s wonderful, Nan,” I said softly, being ginger with myself, unsure how I’d feel about what I’d done when I had the chance to properly reflect.
“It’s nothing like what you did, but I quite like my little wisp o’ light.”
“What’s not to like? It’s lovely, and so very nice.” The words came more easily now; I no longer held onto my magic. “The darkness of this place is very overwhelming without it.”
“You can say that again, Lady Isa,” Sir Lancelot said. “Especially for me. I’m an owl, for goodness’ sake. I’m accustomed to being able to see no matter what my circumstances. This has been most uncomfortable. What is this place he has us in,
anyway? Yet another dungeon? So blasé. Are the sorcerers no more inventive than this? I suppose they aren’t. The most powerful of magic relies on the imagination, a point you’ve proven most elegantly, Lady Isa. That duke had so little of it. And now....”
“And now he’s dead. Because I killed him.” I’d already determined that I wouldn’t feel guilty for killing him, yet the thoughts arrived unbidden, and the words tumbled from my mouth.
“You did as you had to, of that I’m most certain,” the owl said. “I’ve been around long enough that I can say with a certain amount of authority: there are sorcerers who accept darkness into their hearts. Once that happens, and the darkness takes hold, there’s no going back, not in any real sense.”
I blinked at him, taking in the seriousness of his expression and his wide, earnest eyes.
“Trust me. I was part of the force that battled Count Washur.”
“Gertrude’s... husband?” Nando hesitated as he asked the question, and I understood why. Gertrude was too young to be a widow, and too good to be married off to a terrible sorcerer.
“The very one.” Sir Lancelot pursed his beak into a good impression of disapproval. “There was no way to redeem Count Washur. He had to die; it was the only way to put an end to his evil machinations. Duke Maurisse is—was—no different.”
I nodded numbly, trying to record all he said so I could remind myself of it when the next wave of doubt or guilt washed over me... because I had no doubt it was coming. I’d killed. And that wasn’t something I’d been prepared for.
“Now what do you two, lad and lady, say about getting out of here? As Lord Nando managed to perform the light wisp spell, clearly the duke’s magic that limited the ability to do spells is now as dead as he is.”
The owl was just going to keep mentioning how dead the sorcerer was, wasn’t he? I grimaced.
“What’s wrong?” Nando asked right away.
“Nothing. I’ll be fine.” I smiled for his sake, but it was forced this time; I was sure he noticed. I hurried to distract him from my discomfort. “What about Sinter? Do we need to... hunt him down?” I shrugged, uncomfortable with the idea that we might have to track down another man and kill him. No, not a man, a sorcerer. There was a difference, wasn’t there? I wasn’t entirely sure. When Maurisse had exploded, he’d been a mass of flying flesh, blood, and bone before my magic claimed all of him.
