The Flaw in All Magic (Magebreakers Book 1)

by Ben S. Dobson

  “Indree will never accept that.”

  “Inspector Lovial will do what her superiors tell her, or surrender her badge. Enough of this, Mister Carver. I know you are trying to delay me. It is amusing that you think I can be so easily fooled. I didn’t come this far only to leave you with enough time to ground the airship after I am gone. I have simply been waiting for the point of no return.” Another great moan came from the envelope. Textile stretching, metal bending and buckling. “I believe we are past that now.” Nieris turned away to face the right wall, and began to chant under his breath. Tane recognized the words of the lingua—he was casting his portal.

  “Wait! I—”

  Nieris didn’t even look at him, just flicked his fingers and uttered a few short words. A muzzle of silver-blue force surrounded Tane’s jaw, clamping it shut.

  Astra, what am I supposed to do now? The flash charm loaded in his charmglobe was a momentary distraction at best, and the stolen pistol in his pocket was useless. Even if he could fumble it out and shoot from the wrist with true enough aim to hit anything, casting a portal took more than enough Astral energy to turn an ancryst ball aside. And no aid was coming. Nieris had been right about that. There was no way for the bluecaps or Mageblades to get aboard. Casting a portal from the ship was one thing—opening one into a moving target would be impossible.

  Tane watched helplessly as the chancellor uttered his portal spell, bringing a silver-blue shimmer of magic into the world near the right wall. It shifted and grew from the size of his fist to the size of his head and then larger still. It wasn’t a true portal yet—nothing was visible on the other side—but it wouldn’t be long. I can’t stop him. I’m going to die here.

  And then, behind Nieris’ back on the left side of the bridge, he saw something. Movement. He couldn’t turn his head far under the constraint of the muzzle, but he shifted his eyes.

  Kadka stared back at him through the window, waving her arms over her head to get his attention.

  Chapter Twenty

  _____

  IF TANE HADN’T been muzzled, he might have cheered. He’d never been so happy to see anyone in his life.

  Nieris’ detections can’t sense her. He doesn’t know she’s here.

  He only looked at Kadka from the side of his eye so Nieris wouldn’t notice, but he waggled the fingers of his left hand to show he’d seen her. She pointed at the window, gave an exaggerated shrug.

  She can’t get in without drawing attention to herself. And if she could, there are wards. And if there weren’t, Nieris could shield himself, or… There were a dozen different problems to deal with before she could get to him, and none of them were particularly easy to fix while he was stuck to the wall.

  But Kadka had come when he’d thought no one could. And if he didn’t do something, they were both going to die.

  Calm down, Carver. Work this through. The flaw in the mage is the flaw in the magic. What’s Nieris’ flaw?

  That was easy: arrogance.

  He thinks he’s the greatest mage alive. How does that affect his spells? He takes pride in the craft—he’ll have chosen his wording carefully. But… how many is he keeping up right now? The wards, the binding spell, the detection spell on the bridge, the Astral mask that blocked Indree’s sending… and the portal. The most unstable and difficult of spells. More than any mage would risk.

  Except maybe one who thought himself a true master.

  That’s where he’s vulnerable. He’s concentrating on too much at once. If I can distract him badly enough, he might drop something. It won’t be the portal, and it won’t be the binding—he won’t risk letting me free. But if he doesn’t think anyone else is capable of getting on board, he has no reason to hold his ward.

  But Kadka still had to get inside. Just breaking the spells would make little difference if Nieris could simply cast them again. Breaking a window or opening the door would draw attention, and that would give the chancellor more than enough time to stop her with a spell—based on the efficiency of his binding, Tane had little doubt that the man knew his combat magic.

  There wasn’t much time left. The portal was large enough now to fit a man, a silver-blue hole in reality that only had to be anchored in place.

  Kadka was still watching; Tane flicked his fingers at her, gesturing her away from the window, and she ducked aside. He tested the freedom of his wrists, gripped the pistol in his pocket, found the clasp on the charmglobe in the other.

  He had a plan.

  It wasn’t easy with his limited range of motion, but Tane fumbled the pistol from his pocket, and aimed from the hip at Nieris. No shot would fly straight while the chancellor was channelling so much Astral power, but that wasn’t the point. Unable to speak, Tane slammed the heel of his foot against the wall for attention.

  Nieris halted his chanting with a frown, holding his nearly-complete portal in stasis, and glanced sidelong at Tane. His eyes fell on the pistol.

  Tane pulled the trigger, and the firing charm consumed itself in a silver flash.

  At the same time, Nieris shouted in the lingua, and a shield of shimmering silver burst to life around him. The ancryst ball had already banked away from the strength of his magic, shattering through the window at the far left of the bridge. The pane of glass fell from its frame in great shards, and the roar of passing wind filled the room.

  And for just a moment, Tane felt his bonds loosen as the shield drew some of Nieris’ concentration. The ancryst would never have struck true, but throwing up a shield under threat was instinctive for any combat-trained mage. Which was exactly what he’d been counting on.

  Nieris looked to the shattered window, and back to Tane. “Mister Carver, if you insist on interrupting, I will have to punish you.” He glared at Tane, and his eyes glazed.

  Pain lanced through Tane’s temples like a white-hot spike driven directly through his brain. It spread over his body, a thousand hot needles stabbed directly into every nerve. He screamed silently into his magical muzzle, writhed against his bonds.

  But he didn’t let it stop him. Forcing his fingers open through spasms of agony, Tane rolled the charmglobe along the floor.

  Nieris’ eyes widened as he recognized the brass ball for what it was. He uttered a spell, sealing the charmglobe in a dome of magical force, and threw an arm across his face to shield his eyes against the possibility of a flash charm.

  Another spell cast, and again, the energy holding Tane faltered. The muzzle on his jaw faded away, and the pain dulled. His arms were still bound, but it didn’t matter. It was working.

  The charmglobe clicked open inside Nieris’ seal.

  Nothing happened. It was empty.

  The chancellor uncovered his eyes at the sound, and scowled at the empty brass ball. “I am losing my patience, Mister Carver!” he snapped. Again, that distant look in his eye.

  The pain returned, worse than before. It seared through Tane’s bones, boiled the blood in his veins, filled his skull until it felt like it would burst. He screamed, aloud this time, as every muscle in his body tensed and strained under the assault. He squeezed his eyes shut.

  And in his clenched fist, he crushed the seal on the flash charm he’d palmed.

  A burst of blinding light filled the room, bright enough to blaze red even through the flesh of Tane’s eyelids. Nieris cried out in surprise. The pain abated, and Tane sagged several inches from the wall in his bonds.

  He opened his eyes. The portal was still there, a door-sized oval of silver-blue, but the shield around Nieris was gone, and the one around the charmglobe. Which meant the spells Tane couldn’t see might have failed too.

  If they hadn’t, it was over. He didn’t have any tricks left.

  Nieris clutched a hand to his eyes, his face twisted with rage. “Enough!” he bellowed, all illusion of gentility long since vanished. “You will not distract me with these petty—”

  A blur of grey skin and wild white hair struck the chancellor hard in the side, tackling him to the
floor. The portal flared wide and blinked out of existence. At the same moment, Tane’s bonds failed. He collapsed to the floor on his knees.

  “What about her?” he said, and lifted his head to look at Kadka.

  She’d pushed Nieris up against the wall, pinning him there. The chancellor started to chant, but she clapped a hand over his mouth, and her knife was at his throat in an instant. “Say magic words and you die.”

  Tane pushed himself to his feet. His head throbbed with residual agony, and he was unsteady on the shifting airship floor, but he made it to Kadka. “You came,” he said. “I didn’t think anyone would.”

  She glanced at him, frowning. “Would be easier, if you don’t leave me behind.”

  “I know. I’m sorry. I thought… I suppose I thought I could do it alone. I was wrong.”

  “Never again.” A hint of that familiar grin, a flash of sharp teeth at one side of her mouth. “Or maybe I don’t save you next time.”

  “Never again,” he agreed.

  Above, a great wail and moan came from the envelope. Ah, yes. Imminent death. Tane had absolutely no interest in falling from the sky aboard a broken ancryst vehicle—even his worst nightmares weren’t as bad as that. There had to be some way to stop it.

  He gestured at Nieris. “Uncover his mouth, but be ready if he tries anything. We need answers and we don’t have much time.”

  Kadka leaned close to Nieris’ face. “Remember. Faster to cut throat than say spell.” Raw disgust and terror warred in the chancellor’s eyes, but he nodded his head slightly. She removed her hand.

  As soon as she did, Nieris spoke. “Call off your beast, Mister Carver. We can still be civilized about this. None of us want to die here. I can portal all of us to safety before the envelope breaks. All I ask is that you let me go.”

  “Let you go?” Tane felt his fist close, and before he knew what he was doing, he was swinging it at Nieris’ jaw. His knuckles jarred painfully against bone, and pain shot up his arm; he’d never hit someone like that before.

  Kadka gave him an impressed grin as he rubbed his hand. “Not bad, Carver.”

  Nieris spat blood from his mouth, and glared at Tane. “Are you quite satisfied? We haven’t time to—”

  “Shut up,” Tane said flatly. “You do not go free, and this airship isn’t going to hurt anyone. You killed my friend, and I’m not letting you turn the last project she worked on into your weapon. Or your symbol. You can tell me how to fix it, or you can die with us.”

  Nieris stared at him for a long moment, and then, “You believe that would be the end of this, don’t you? If you save the airship and turn me over to the bluecaps.” He laughed, sharp and bitter. “You truly don’t understand what you’ve stumbled upon. The Knights of the Emperor are so much larger than one man. There are others, so many others, and they know that the time has come. They will carry on the work. If I… if I must die for the cause, so be it.”

  Knights of the Emperor? Tane didn’t like the sound of that, but there wasn’t time to worry about it now. “If you’re so willing to die, why try to bargain to begin with? Come on, Nieris, you can still—”

  Another moan from above, and then a loud snap. The airship listed sharply to one side.

  Tane felt himself start to slide as the floor tipped upward, and then faster, and then he was hurtling toward the broken window. Lady Abena’s unconscious body struck the wall before he did, and she was low enough that it stopped her.

  Tane wasn’t so lucky. The lip of the window took him in the thigh and swept his legs out beneath him. He tumbled out into the darkness, and his watch case slipped free of his pocket, swinging from his waistcoat at the end of its brass chain. Below, only the deck rail stood between him and an impossible drop to the city lights below.

  His vision spun wildly as he fell. He couldn’t tell which way was up—the night-time lights of the city below looked very much like the stars above. Too disoriented to grab hold, he struck the railing with his shoulder and bounced over. The impact spun him around so that he was looking back in the direction he’d come from. Just above the bridge, a section of the rigging that bound the envelope to the hull flapped free—it must have snapped as the envelope expanded. With one hand, Tane grasped wildly for the rail as he plummeted away from the ship.

  He missed.

  Suddenly Kadka was there, holding the railing with one hand. Her fingers closed tight around his wrist.

  Tane dangled wide-eyed, too terrified to speak or breathe for fear that the slightest movement might shake him free of her grip. The ship adjusted to the sudden shift and righted itself as well as it could, though the hull still swayed and the nearer side of the deck hung considerably lower than the farther. Kadka found her footing, let go of the rail, and reached for Tane’s arm with her now-free hand.

  “Such an unfortunate turn.” Nieris’ voice, wretchedly smug. He appeared out of the dark behind Kadka, looming above her as she bent over the rail. “You did come very close to stopping me, I must admit.” He started to chant a spell.

  Kadka lashed her free hand behind her, but Nieris simply stepped out of reach. There was nothing she could do without letting Tane fall, and Tane was utterly helpless, hanging in the night sky. He’s won.

  Behind Nieris, the light shining from the bridge windows flickered and dimmed. The chancellor’s mouth gaped open. His eyes rolled back in his head.

  Glowing faintly against the night, a ghostly silver-blue hand thrust directly through his chest.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  _____

  KADKA HEAVED TANE to safety as Nieris collapsed to the deck. The wraith bent over the chancellor, feasting hungrily. Still reeling, Tane could only watch, clinging to the rail to hold himself upright.

  Nieris’ pale elven skin went paler still, and his veins bulged out like dark worms burrowing beneath. He twitched and spasmed as the wraith siphoned away his Astral bond, but its grip was in him too deep now to pull away.

  “Carver,” Kadka said, gripping Tane’s shoulder. “The Lady Protector. Come.”

  Tane shook his head to clear it, and they skirted around the feeding wraith toward the hatch that led back into the bridge.

  It was dim inside—the wraith had drained most of the lights. Lady Abena lay unmoving against the left wall.

  Kadka bent down beside the Lady Protector, and held a hand just above her nose and mouth. “Still breathing,” she said, and looked up at Tane. “What now? We have to stop this, yes?”

  “I… I don’t know how. We need to stop the power going to the heating glyphs to save the envelope, but if we pull the gems, the lift spells lose power too, and the whole ship will fall out of the sky. If we even make it that long.” Tane jabbed a finger toward the broken window, where the ghostly figure was still siphoning power from the chancellor. “That thing is distracted for now, but Nieris won’t last forever.” Absently, he grabbed the watch case dangling from his waistcoat and clutched it tight. “Astra, I can’t see any way out, Kadka. I’m sorry I pulled you into this.”

  She shook her head. “No. I make you let me come, remember?”

  “At the beginning. But you came here to help me.”

  “Some. Also I want to ride airship.” She grinned. “But I can’t let friend fight insane mage alone. My choice, not yours.”

  “Well I’m sorry anyway. For all the times you’ve saved me, I don’t think I’ve been a very good friend in return. Not good enough to deserve this.”

  She shrugged. “In Sverna, everyone looks at me like human. Here, everyone sees orc. You look at me like Kadka, even if you are stupid sometimes. Show me magic like I have never seen. Is enough.” With one white-furred hand, she clasped his shoulder. “If I die flying on airship like no one ever has… is not such a bad death. But if anyone can stop it, I think you can. Fighting is done, Carver. Time for cleverness now.”

  He wanted more than anything to tell her he had something. Some solution to justify her faith. But he didn’t. He had nothing. “Kadka, I—
”

  A long, screech cut him off, and the airship lurched again, this time directly downward.

  The deck fell under their feet, and Tane’s stomach rose into his throat. He lifted into the air as if he was entirely weightless; beside him Kadka did the same, and the limp figure of the Lady Protector.

  And then, just as suddenly, the ship caught itself, and he slammed down painfully on his hands and knees.

  Kadka landed improbably on her feet, and caught Lady Abena before she struck the floor. “What is this, Carver?”

  “The envelope wasn’t made to expand this much,” said Tane, rising shakily to his feet. “One of the compartments must be losing air. The lift spells on the hull are trying to compensate, but with so much power going to the heating glyphs, they’re failing. We don’t have long left.” He glanced out the window.

  The sudden fall hadn’t thrown Nieris overboard, but he’d been tossed limply against the railing. The wraith, unaffected by the movements of the ship, drifted easily back down to the deck. But it wasn’t moving toward Nieris anymore. It was coming for the bridge. For them. And this time I don’t have an engine case to trap it… wait.

  He grabbed Kadka’s arm and jabbed a finger toward the instruments at the front of the bridge. “Take the wheel. Steer us out over the water if you can. If this works, it might be a rough landing. If it doesn’t, we can still save the people below us.”

  The wraith passed through the window as if it wasn’t there and drifted toward the nearest source of Astral energy: Lady Abena, in Kadka’s arms.