Swift Magic (The Swift Codex Book 2)

by Nicolette Jinks

“It's a what?” I joined the cluster crowding the thing.

  “A saber-toothed fruit bat with a stinger?” he guessed. “A slightly decayed saber-toothed fruit bat with stinger.”

  I met Mordon's gaze and we both said, “Walking animation.”

  “You know of this creature?” Simbalene asked.

  “I didn't feel as much of a fear spell as last time,” I said, kneeling next to it.

  “Perhaps it was too fast.”

  “Perhaps,” I said. “Barnes said these are an art. How hard is it to make a convincing fear spell?”

  “Not too bad, if you know what your target is afraid of. Pretty hard if you don't,” Leazar said. “I've heard of these things, but never seen one before. How did you come across it? Daddio never mentioned that part of your narrative.”

  “It was when I was with the market coven. It was grotesque. But this one…it's blended together so well, almost seamless. Look. You can't see at all where it was several animals.” Then I laughed. “An illusion! He put up an illusion to merge the joints.”

  “Oh hey, that's clever,” Leazar said. He and Simbalene started talking, but I stopped listening.

  Mordon put his hand on my shoulder and whispered in my ear, “Is it him?”

  I turned the walking animation over and nodded. “I think he made the husks, too.”

  “What, all of them?”

  I nodded. Yes. All of them.

  Now would have been a good time for Mordon to swear, but he wasted it by saying nothing.

  “Hey, sis.” Leazar was pointing towards a storm cloud coming our way. “Think you can wrangle up a portal which will get us…anywhere but here?”

  The constant use of magic had drained me, but I squinted at the storm cloud, wondering what Leazar saw. Then I knew it wasn't the cloud that had his attention. The whole ground beneath it wriggled and flowed.

  “Is that an army of what you called walking animations?” Simbalene asked.

  For a second I stared at Mordon, hoping he would contradict her. But he didn't.

  “Sis? The portal? I don't think we can outrun this.”

  “No,” Mordon said. “We can't, not at their pace. Fera?”

  “I need energy.”

  Mordon's hand went from my shoulder onto my scalp, and I felt the searing tingle of an energy transfer pass through his fingertips. It was refreshing, like waking up from a nap, but it wouldn't last long.

  “I'll need more to steady the portal.”

  Mordon nodded.

  I found two portals immediately nearby, but rejected one because the wind couldn't come back through it again, and rejected the other because it led to a dead zone. A football field away, I stabilized a portal which seemed to go to the apothecary, a small path which was nevertheless well-maintained. To keep it steady, I drew from Leazar as well as Mordon.

  Mordon, Leazar, and Simbalene went through. Then I turned my head, and I saw him out of the corner of my eye, a flicker of shadow, a flicker of the man who Death could not touch.

  Then he was gone, disappeared into the oncoming husks. Tired, no doubt, as I was.

  So I closed my eyes and plunged through the portal.

  The Fey Council and a group of others were waiting outside the apothecary. They had enclosed Leazar, Simbalene, and Mordon the instant they'd arrived, and they did the same thing to me. Father elbowed his way to the front, kneeling next to where I sat on the ground.

  “What happened?” he asked. “What did you see? And why did you go? You were meant to be evacuated.”

  “I can't go,” I said. “As to what I saw—Mordon.” My throat went dry and I coughed. Father knelt there, shocked, dumbfounded, as Mordon pushed his way to me and pressed something in my hands.

  It wasn't water. I wasn't sure what it was, something alcoholic and with herbs and healing magic mixed in. It coated my throat and made my eyelids heavy. Mordon leaned me against the wall of the apothecary and told me to rest. Leazar and Simbalene took the floor, explaining what we'd seen, and answering questions.

  “They're arriving for a battle, then,” Father said. He looked exhausted, purple circles under his eyes so dark they looked like bruises. “It was what we expected, I suppose, but now it's here and coming. We'll set up defenses as the battalion has always done. And Fera is leaving.”

  “not!” I said, struggling to stand up. “It's the Unwritten which is behind this. I know how to get rid of it, and you need my help to do it.”

  “Unwritten? The spell? You've seen one and you didn't say anything?” Father said.

  “I thought I'd have more time to look into it,” I said. “I wanted to find out what it did before I said anything.”

  The assembly was staring at us, listening intently, whispering here and there. Father, hands knotted together, looked like he was trying not to strangle his infuriating daughter.

  “I'll tell you now,” I said. “And I'll tell you all I know about husks and walking animations and Unwrittens. But you've got to listen to me. Really, actually listen, and you can't send me away, because I'm the sole person here who has defeated an Unwritten before.”

  The listening Council didn't object to my bold statement, so I presumed I was correct in that assessment. I didn't wait for anyone to settle in before I started detailing what I knew. They were a good audience, quiet and attentive, and when they began to ask after making a plan, I came up with a plan to use a disenchantment spell on the trees, and they took over. Too exhausted to argue, I slumped back against the building, worn out by the constant strain on magic and the effort of holding open a portal.

  When they went a ways to discuss in private, I looked up at Mordon. He had wary eyes, an expression he hadn't shown to the others, but it reflected with a vengeance now.

  “You figured out the Unwritten and how to destroy it? Since last we talked?”

  “No,” I said. “I haven't a clue. I just needed something good to say, because the answer's here, right in front of us. I'm just not seeing it.”

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  I ate my haunch of roast hare and watched as the portal was constructed on the floor of the communal kitchens. The feys were grim as they got out their compasses to measure angles, the chalk line to snap straight guides from one point to another, then came Mother with a can of paint and a Japanese style brush to make the lines and symbols permanent. The paint, as it dried, turned black then melted into the ground beneath, a mark in the very bedrock of the Wildwoods, there for eternity even if today was the day the woods ceased to be.

  It felt that I had somehow sentenced the woods to die. Without knowing how to stop the Unwritten, I'd created a plan on a whim, and now they were likely to fail. I'd be the reason no one gave it better thought.

  Father came off of the walking path and I heard Mordon reading a list of items needed for disenchantment, comparing the list to what had been rounded up and put on the benches. The battalion stood ready to go, as soon as the last of the paint had done its work. I forced myself onto aching feet and met Father halfway to the battalion.

  I heard Mordon say, “Fera and I are going, as well.”

  Mother stirred from her work and took me by the elbow. “Does he always control your actions like this?”

  “What?”

  Mother had that look about her, the one which told me to grit my teeth and tolerate whatever was going to be said next. “Your father and I don't like it. He rarely seems to ask your opinion at all, and you're so meek, we worry that you won't stand up against him.”

  “We always discuss things and don't worry.”

  “There's no need for that tone. Mordon seems like a nice man,” Mother said. I waited for the 'but', and I wouldn't give her the satisfaction of asking what it was. She continued, “But maybe there is a better man for you. One with an occupation better suited for your disposition and talents. One that will keep you … closer to home.”

  Ah, that was it, wasn't it? If I married Mordon, I'd live in Kragdomen and they'd lose hope of my ever coming to li
ve in the Wildwoods. If there was a Wildwoods left after this. Or did they want me to just live nearby to wherever they would be? They'd never wanted me to leave them in the first place. Leazar they all but kicked out the front door, but every step of moving out for me had been a protracted and gristly ordeal.

  “I'll visit, Mother, no matter where I am.”

  “And we, of course, do not approve of his attentions.”

  I sighed in irritation. “You didn't voice an objection before.”

  “Before was not a good time.”

  “Neither is now!” I almost shouted it. Mother frowned. People had moved away from us, knowing all too well the telltale signs of an argument, but that didn't mean they weren't listening in.

  “But now may be the last time we have to have a heart to heart.”

  I did not answer. They wouldn't listen, anyways. The only way they would somewhat listen was if I said something, then they'd argue every point until we were totally off-topic and arguing about past arguments which hadn't been resolved. It would take hours, and there'd be shouting and tears and it would all be concluded by a Serious Discussion which would end when I was so sick of it that I stopped fighting back. Plus, I felt the air thicken with the scent of honeysuckle and knew that if I let go of my control, my magic would start causing chaos.

  So all I said was, “Is there anything else you'd like to say?”

  Mother was the one who sighed in irritation this time. “Feraline.”

  “Is there? We have other things to get back to doing.”

  She pursed her lips. “Just think about what I've said.”

  “Fine.”

  She lingered there, ready to say more, to counterpoint whatever defenses I would put up, but against obedience—even against obedience she knew I feigned—there could be no debate. I did not relax when she'd gone. Though we hadn't fought, I felt strung tight as though we had. Maybe I could unleash some of that tension during the coming battle.

  “Which church do you think you two will be wed in?” Mother's voice caught my attention.

  She was speaking to Mordon. I closed my eyes and hissed out a breath. How he would respond to the interrogation, I didn't know. If they were anyone but my parents, he would tell them very bluntly that it wasn't their business and that he would not answer anything more. But they were my parents, they were both talking to him, under the guise of a casual conversation.

  Mordon's fingers stopped putting the final touches on the portal, and he set the chalk down, and put both hands on his knees before looking at the two of them.

  “We have not discussed holding a redundant ceremony. If Feraline requests it, we shall do so. But at present, there are no such plans in place.”

  Father scowled. “We raised a good Christian girl, Meadows. If you do not respect that, you do not respect her.”

  A line formed between Mordon's brows and I quietly urged him not to make a fuss. He didn't have to live with them, just avoid a scene so we could all move on.

  Mother said, “If we die and you live, we want her taken care of.”

  “And you think I will not do so? That I will corrupt her and take advantage of her innocence, is that your concern?”

  Mother lost her temper. “I do not like the way you push her around, just from what I've witnessed in the short time you've been with us. She's too timid for you, and you're too domineering.”

  Mordon cocked his head to the side. “I find it odd, that is exactly the sentiment I feel towards the two of you and my mate.”

  “You'll take her away from us. I'll not allow it.”

  Mordon was furious. I knew it by the way he held too still, by the way his fingers rested flat and relaxed on his thighs. “Feraline is many things to me, but first and foremost she is a friend whom I love very dearly. Since she has come here, she has become passive, insecure, and resentful. I have been with her in various places, but this is the first time I have seen her lose herself. I do not think it is the Wildwoods which makes her so, and I would rather clip my own wings than leave her scared and vulnerable and alone. So, yes, I do intend on taking her away, and I challenge you to stop me.”

  Father looked ready to shift and tear him to pieces. I hurried to stand between them, my fingers cold and my muscles shivering. “This is enough. Now is not the time to be fighting amongst ourselves. I will stay or go as I please, and I will do what I wish with whom I wish to do it. I am not a child, I am not incapable, and I am not in need of anyone's rescuing. Nor do I need someone to take care of me.”

  Mother reached out for me. “Feraline, I …”

  I stepped out of range, of everybody. “This is a ridiculous sidetrack. We need all people to help. And if you can't put aside your imagined injuries long enough to do it, then we might as well all flee now. Is that what you want, to give up because of some petty insults?”

  “No,” Father said. “We are ready to head out. You will find a safe place.”

  I shook my head. “We're coming, too, Magnus. Mordon and I.”

  Father shifted his weight, not approving of the thought. “This isn't safe,” he said. “You'd be better off here, you'll have time to make an escape if need be.”

  “There's no escaping the woods now,” I said. “Look how hard it was to make a portal go a short distance. If things go south from here, we're better off with you where we stand a fighting chance.”

  “Fall in,” Father said. “But do as you're told. I don't want to lose you.”

  “We're coming with you, sis,” said Leazar. How he appeared and disappeared without notice was a trick I would dearly love to learn, and I had suspicions that it originated from Simbalene.

  Mordon murmured in my ear, “It's fascinating. You'll stand up for me but not for yourself.”

  “They're worried, that's all.”

  “I know,” Mordon said. “Do you think I'd have tolerated that for any other reason?”

  I rubbed my forehead. “Mordon, what you said…”

  “I will take you away, but once you're out from under their thumb, you're free to return to it.” He sounded very gruff about it, but I believed him.

  I wanted to talk, but there was just no time. We'd wasted too much as it was.

  This time around, with more people to be carried and a vague notion of the destination, the portal took several people to form and stabilize it. One of the older members led the way through, followed by other senior ranks, then the least experienced people such as Mordon and myself went through, and we were in turn followed by experienced battalion members.

  Though the woods had deteriorated since I'd last seen them, it didn't take me long to identify where we were and motion to where the Unwritten would be.

  There was nothing quite like this. Beneath my feet, porous black rocks shifted and crunched and flew off at the lightest touch. What trees and grass remained was stiff and dry, the bark as though it were drift wood baked in a pottery kiln. The sun blistered down on us from a clear sky. Only from my own effort was there a breeze to skitter crisp leaves and cool the sweat off our skin.

  I was ready for the desolation and the ache in my heart—but there was another thing surrounding us which I hadn't been ready for. Maybe it was the way I felt the woods all around us still?

  “I knew you'd be here,” Lyall said, startling the battalion and ending up the center of pointed wands, staffs, and whatever else people had.

  “Lyall Limber-Clan,” I said. “It is good to see you.”

  “You appear to be alone in that sentiment.”

  Father took the cue and motioned that the others should be at ease. Lyall joined me, Mordon, and Leazar in the center of the group, eyeing Simbalene while she studied him.

  “Fire drake, fairy, and fey-humans,” Lyall said. “All hail the melting pot.”

  Leazar crossed his arms, not sure if he liked Lyall's tone.

  “We don't have time to get into that,” I said. “What's the status on the husks and walking animations and whatnot?”

  “Closing
in on all quarters, far outnumbering us, and all the wiser for your last attack. Their leader has decoys in place. You'd best do what you came here to do.”

  It was a full half an hour before we found the trees—Lyall had been right, the husk leader had been practicing his decoys, and they were good ones, at that. Nothing guarded the real trees and Unwritten spell, which helped it blend in with the others. Father and the rest presently had the disenchantment spell underway.

  “Perimeter watch, go—and keep a sharp lookout. They have to know where we are and will be watching for us. Start at max radius and pull back as it gets hot.”