The Forgotten Magic

by Kelly Peasgood

  Until that link suddenly disappeared.

  "He's gone," Nathan snarled. Tyrandel's pale eyes widened in astonishment.

  "They killed him?" he asked, his own face turning toward the expanse that led to Dalasham.

  Nathan frowned, trying to make sense of the sensations coursing through him. When Kavan, his third blood-brother, as Shelton had named them, had died, Nathan had felt a tiny piece of magic flow back into him, a retrieval of his own powers. He didn't feel that now, only a strange absence of Marcus. A slow shake of his head, rain slicking his face and dripping from his chin as he stared north.

  "Hidden," he murmured.

  "Impossible!" came Tyrandel's startled reply. "Nothing can hide your link."

  So Nathan had thought too, but Marcus had simply vanished; not injured into a comatose state, not dead, just―missing from Nathan's senses. In a kingdom without magic. His eyes narrowed. In a land where Girl had taken shelter and where a king thought to hold her to account for some trifling indiscretion. Could she have escaped, done something to Marcus? Impossible, he found himself reiterating Tyrandel's sentiment. Girl might know some tricks, may have bartered for power that didn't belong to her, but she couldn't possibly overcome Shelton's spell.

  But someone had, leaving Marcus somehow trapped somewhere in Dalasham. Trapped in a land that also held his nemesis, his prey, too long kept from his hands.

  "Rouse the guards," Nathan finally snapped. "Get them in the saddle immediately. It's time to pay a visit to our neighbour in the north. No more waiting. We take back what belongs to us."

  "And if they don't want to relinquish them?" Voice low, eyes crinkling in contemplation, Tyrandel slanted a look at his companion, as though to gauge his reaction.

  "I don't plan to ask," Nathan snarled, turning on his heel and stomping back to the inn.

  Chapter 11

  We can't prove it, as Henri has grown surprisingly adept at covering his tracks, but we believe he arranged for the death of the Queen. In no way can I construe her fall an accident―no more than Dancy's―and to suggest the Queen's frailties as a woman led to the unfortunate incident rankles beyond belief. Yet somehow, Henri has convinced not only his followers, but also key members of the land that this 'misfortune' just proves that women lack the strength to hold power, that we need protection, coddling, and the oppression of a man's thumb to hold us down. He has eroded our ability to safeguard the people, hiding his smirks behind a face grave with concern. I wish to blame a spell he somehow devised, a corruption forced into their minds, but I very much fear his overwhelming charisma, combined with fear and greed, truly drive this new weapon. A much more insidious and difficult foe to fight.

  And now the King sends us away to report on and deal with rumours of an uprising in the east, leaving Henri and his supporters far too close to the throne and the ear of the King. At least Alfred has convinced the King to send Wulfgang with us, to 'oversee how to govern amid turmoil,' ostensibly providing the young Prince with valuable experience. Keeping the heir as far from the influence of Henri as possible has become our tantamount task. If only we could open the eyes of the King so easily ...

  King Wulfgang had ascended to the throne of Dalasham 186 years ago, following Henri's Rebellion, Em mused, rubbing absently at the ache in the back of her head. She shook her head in amazement, so absorbed in Constance's journal and what it suggested about history that it took her a moment to remember she didn't sit here alone.

  She tore her gaze from the book beneath her fingers to scan the room for her charge. Destiny sat in the next chair, legs folded under her as she perused one of Dalasmar's rare books on magic with a scowl, her wrists still bound by the magic-inhibiting bracelets, though Darien had found a way to lengthen the delicate chain linking them. Ambrose lounged on one of the settees, eyes sharp despite his deceptive air of relaxation as he guarded the pair. The King had assigned another guard named Bartok to keep watch over Destiny. A veteran just glimpsing his fourth decade, he now stood by the door, a perpetual glower of distaste etched on his face as he performed his duty. Em had no idea where the Chief Librarian had disappeared to since last she had examined her surroundings.

  Lord Prichard had deposited them in the sitting room near the library after King Stefan had charged Em with Destiny's disposition. Em had reluctantly explained to the nobleman how her strange ability to see the threads of magic had added weight to Destiny's decision to help rather than attack in the aftermath of Marcus' spell. The speed at which Prichard's look of astonishment had morphed into speculation at Em's ability to detect magic had alarmed the little librarian, and she knew the spy's thoughts churned through the possibilities this new talent might engender. Thankfully for her peace of mind, Prichard hadn't returned to the sitting room in the ensuing two days, and it had become the gathering place for Em and her new companions instead.

  An interesting two days, Em thought, gaze unfocused as it rested on the wizard. First, a surprisingly honest and detailed accounting of Destiny's dealings with Prince Whillim as her trial resumed yesterday. Then the declaration of Whillim's exile to Cranshaw Fortress, where the Prince would sit, not in the luxury afforded by his station, but in close confinement, attended solely by his valet and a single deaf-mute servant, the only concession to his royal birth.

  King and Councillors, while they deliberated on how to fully deal with Destiny and the harm she had wrought, had decreed that the woman must stand ready to consult on adequate defences of Riverbend should Wizard Nathan follow his friend Marcus to the castle. What they hoped to accomplish against someone like Nathan, especially given the fact that their own source of potential protection sat trapped by magical bindings, Em didn't know. The rulers didn't trust Destiny―couldn't afford to even contemplate that notion in light of her recent transgressions against the kingdom―but they had finally recognised and acknowledged her role in freeing the courtroom from Marcus' spell, saving them from the unscrupulous clutches of outsiders, and that had afforded her some little leeway.

  That Dalasham stood so easily exposed to magical attack, highlighted first by Destiny's work with the Prince and now brought into painful clarity by Marcus' actions, added a new layer of complexity to King Stefan's realm, one he needed solved quickly. To that end, he had quietly charged Em and Darien to work with Destiny to uncover the truth behind the Lesser Magics and Henri's Rebellion. The King reasoned that, if they could find proof of Destiny's hypothesis of a spell that redirected the flow of magic, that also caused an aversion in wizards to linger near the capital, then they might work to find a counter to that spell. Or learn a way to harness the effect more profitably, see if they could turn their Lesser Magics into a defence against someone like Nathan. While Destiny could help them research this, she couldn't bring any of her magic to bear in tests or explorations while so confined. At the same time, no one would risk unleashing Destiny's powers for fear of her turning against them again. Reasonable precautions, but limiting to what Stefan hoped to achieve.

  Prichard had assured Em and Darien that he had a plan to test whatever they might discover in their research without relying on Destiny's magic. Despite a slight furrow marring his otherwise optimistic expression at this pledge, Em had to trust that the master spy had set things in motion that, once they found an answer, they could act upon it. She hoped she didn't misplace that trust, or only believe in it because of some Lesser Magic that Prichard employed without any conscious direction.

  She gave a fierce shake of her head. Reading about conspiracies, trying to understand historic events that countered what she had learned in the past, and hoping to find information on the creation and existence of Lesser Magics made her doubt too much. Perhaps she needed to take a break.

  Destiny glanced up, noted Em's air of dissatisfaction, and slapped her book closed.

  "Your library has a strange collection of thoughts on magic," the wizard said. "And nothing that pertains to your current situation."

  "I know," Em admitted. She chewed her lip
, debating whether to tell Destiny about the Forbidden Texts in the Chief Librarian's enclave. She had argued that allowing Destiny to see those books might help in their search, but Darien had hesitated at granting her access to what he considered potentially dangerous works. Em felt Destiny likely knew most of the information regarding magic anyway, and had hoped they might study the more historical texts around Henri's time, but she had deferred to Darien's decision. Now she worried she should have pushed harder. Leaving Destiny in the dark didn't help their situation.

  She glanced around the room again, but Darien hadn't reappeared. Em set her jaw.

  "Ask Darien about his special texts," she said, holding the twilight intensity of Destiny's stare. "Maybe something like Magics of pre-Revolutionary Dalasham." Em paused, regarding the other woman. "Can you read Old Dalasham?" she asked, recalling the language used by many of those potentially useful texts. Destiny shook her head, and Em sighed. So much for that idea. She glanced back down at Constance's journal and the pages she had transcribed from it. Could Destiny help with anything from this?

  Even as she considered, a shadow fell over her. Em glanced up quickly, ready to pull back at the sight of Destiny now leaning over her, but the journal in her lap had captivated the wizard's gaze. Destiny frowned before staring hard at Em.

  "You can read that," she stated.

  Em shrugged, looking up.

  "Yes, it's Old Dalasham. Her writing's a bit archaic and crabbed, but I've figured out her style well enough."

  Destiny shook her head, sending loose tendrils of raven hair that had escaped their simple tie slithering over her shoulders as her eyes narrowed further.

  "It's more than that," she said. Em just stared in incomprehension. Destiny sighed, dragging over her chair so that she sat closer to Em. "And you don't even see it. Or rather, you do." Before Em could complain at her companion's cryptic remark, Destiny drew in a breath, ready to explain something seemingly obvious to her. Then she hesitated, her head cocked to the side as she considered something.

  "Can Darien read this?" she asked.

  Of course, hovered on Em's lips, but then she, too, paused. Could he? Any time they had discussed Wizard Constance's startling unravelling of history, Darien had either referred to the pages Em had translated, or to Em's spoken words as they tried to puzzle something out. Now that she thought of it, she couldn't remember Darien ever actually consulting the journal directly. Her brow drew down.

  "He can't, can he?" Destiny pressed.

  "How could you know?" Em whispered. Destiny regarded her in silence, gaze speculative.

  "It's magic locked," she finally replied. "Encoded, if you will. Spelled so that no one can read it unless they know the key."

  Em blinked down at the book, its writing clear to her, if in Old Dalasham.

  "But―" she swallowed heavily. "I haven't applied any key." She met the other woman's eyes, surprised at the hint of sympathy there before cold calculation erased the emotion.

  "You can see magic," Destiny said, reiterating her statement from when Em had described Marcus' paralyzing spell. "See it, and look beyond to what lies beneath." She glanced down to her hands clasped lightly in her lap. No, Em realised, to the chains on her wrists. "What do you see when you look at these?" Destiny asked quietly.

  Em frowned, but remained silent. After a moment, Destiny peered up.

  "You knew how to release them," she said. "How? Did Darien show you?"

  Without meaning to, Em flicked her gaze down, then back to Destiny's intent stare, her head throbbing gently in time with the thud of her heart.

  "You can see the seal, what keeps them binding me. Would it surprise you that I cannot? That I only see a solid band of metal?"

  Em's eyes widened, flying back to the bracelets. To the mechanism she could clearly see which held them securely to Destiny's wrists.

  "Is that how you knew how to defeat my Focus?" Destiny asked. "You saw something of how the Destiny Seat worked and circumvented it?"

  "No," said Em, then hesitated, forcing herself to remember those terrifying moments when she feared none of them would live to see the sunrise, at least not with their minds intact. She collected her thoughts and spoke carefully. "If I did, it lay in my subconscious. I acted out of desperation, not knowing it could work, but unwilling to give up on the slim chance that recalling the Royal Proofs might help King Stefan." She squeezed her eyes shut, again seeing Destiny's Sanctum lit by a lantern and magic, Stefan's empty gaze uncaring of the knife in Whillim's hands as the Prince stood over his brother, Fred's grim countenance as he regarded the unknown man at the mercy of Whillim, Destiny's quiet disdain as she awaited the Prince's decision, mingled with anticipation and validation that her spell had finally reached its conclusion.

  The white quartz chair veined with rose and green hummed silently, its potential whispering in Em's mind―

  Pale grey eyes flew open, that last vague sensation of communication between her and the Destiny Seat overlaying Em's thoughts as the present slammed back into focus, leaving her both frightened and elated by this new possibility. The hearth fire painted a warm pattern over Destiny's right cheek, heightening a gleam of satisfaction that glittered in the dark blue depths of the wizard's gaze as she sat back, not taking her attention off Em.

  "It called to me," Em whispered, not wanting to voice this revelation to the guards. "More a feeling, really, an impression. A possibility I explored with desperation."

  "Your Lesser Magics, combining to overcome a wizard's Great Work." Destiny shook her head, a frown returning to mar her attractive features. "And used without any training, any foreknowledge, any preparation or concept of consequence. Just desire and desperation." She heaved a heavy sigh, then surprised Em by leaning forward and clutching Em's hands in her own. Ambrose lunged to his feet, knife held ready as he saw a potential threat.

  "Wait," Em said quickly, halting his forward motion, seeing not threat from Destiny, but intensity.

  "This is why Nathan must never learn the secrets of Dalasham. You have such power, such potential, and absolutely no idea how to harness it, how to hide it or guard against it. How to protect yourself. If he learns how to tap into the strength of your kingdom, no one will ever stop the spread of the ill intent our father drummed into him, and I will truly lose my little brother forever."

  Em hastened to blink away her uncertainty, seeing a new fierceness in the woman before her. Without pausing to consider any ramifications to her actions, she squeezed Destiny's hands in return.

  "We'll stop him," Em vowed. "Somehow, we'll stop him. We'll learn what spell altered Dalasham and use it to our advantage. You teach me how to guard these Lesser Magics, how to use them, and I'll help you regain your brother."

  Destiny stared in stunned silence, too many emotions chasing across her face for Em to read any of them. Then she gave a firm nod, though Em couldn't say for certain what Destiny had just agreed to, for the door opened, admitting two men and redirecting their attention. The guard Bartok came erect, his hand on the pommel of his sword, but he kept the weapon sheathed, knowing if not expecting the first man, who afforded the guard a cautious nod.

  "Well," Prichard said after a moment, having swept the room with a sharp, dark-eyed gaze. He studied the women confronting each other in their chairs, hands held tight as nearly identical gazes of determination turned to face him, Ambrose a hesitant presence between the pair. "You've obviously come to some sort of epiphany or arrangement. Anything we might help with?" He gestured to the shorter figure beside him, drawing his companion deeper into the sitting room. Em's eyes widened in recognition as the stick-thin man peered nearsightedly at them, though she had no idea how or why he now stood in a room in Dalasmar Castle.

  "Norbert?" she asked in surprise.

  The wiry Administrator from Bakaana's Frontier School sketched a slight bow in her direction. She didn't miss Prichard's wry smile at her consternation. Obviously, the master spy felt he had used the last couple of days profitably.
Em hoped she could agree, if he decided to explain Norbert's startling presence.

  ***

  "When it became clear to me that Wizard Marcus had ulterior motives in his overly keen interest in Lady Destiny," Prichard spoke into the stunned silence, "it seemed prudent to ask for advice. Darien informed me he had found reference to something called the Peace Accords, rules that govern undue influence of a magical nature upon those of us who do not practice such arts. Lacking other magical resources that we could trust―for Marcus seemed, and proved, less than reliable―I wondered if someone from the Wizarding Schools might have some advice. I sent word to Wizard Castillo in Bakaana, requesting information on his errant peer and suggestions on how to deal with a rogue wizard should Darien's cell not function as it ought for our guest. And anything on the nature of magic that might explain how one would transfer power to many." He heaved an irritated sigh, eyes pinched in frustration. "Having no response, and a sudden new interest in learning effective questioning techniques rather than simple imprisonment to use with Marcus, I had planned to send a more detailed request for information when who should appear at the castle gates in response to my first query, but the Administrator to the Frontier School himself."

  Prichard slanted a look down at the man beside him, the wiry man straining against a desire to interrupt in his eagerness to learn some answers of his own. "Stefan has put Wizard Norbert into my care, and Norbert has expressed an interest to meet the wizard who spun so fascinating a ward about Riverbend."

  Now Prichard met Destiny's stare as the formidable woman sat back, disentangling her hands from Emily's. He raised a single auburn eyebrow, inviting the lady wizard to claim her prowess. Destiny arched her own raven brows in sardonic reply.