Shadow Magic

by Nazri Noor

  The thought gave me pause. I was, quite basically, sleeping with the enemy. I knew it looked like this was me consorting with the Bad Guys, but come on. Considering what I’d gone through with Thea, there truly was no telling who was who anymore. Where was I meant to draw the line between good and evil? Everything looked better in gray, as far as I was concerned, and working with Carver meant getting answers, more, at least, than I was getting from Thea and the Lorica.

  Plus I had an inkling that Carver wouldn’t be the type to turn around and sacrifice his employees at a moment’s notice. Call it a hunch. Gil didn’t look too bad, either. Quiet guy, but he seemed pretty decent. Of course, I had no real experience of how he might behave during a full moon, but hey, I liked to believe in the best in people.

  Sterling could get annoying at times, but nothing worse than Bastion, and I knew I could handle that. Only real problem would be if he had any habit of creeping into people’s rooms to suck their blood at night. My hand went to my throat reflexively, and I checked on the door. Ah, a lock on the knob, and a sliding bolt. Good. Whatever else Carver was, it looked like he at least respected privacy.

  Unpacking was uneventful, and Herald’s magical bag of magic spat out my belongings in the reverse order of how I had put them in. Soon I had everything sorted into the cabinets and onto the stone shelves. I stood with my hands at my hips, proud that I had managed to fit my entire life into this fancy shmancy bedroom.

  I dipped my hand into the backpack again, just to make sure I’d gotten everything, but as I groped around, my fingers made contact with something unfamiliar. The hairs at the back of my neck prickled. What the hell was this long, heavy thing? Had Herald forgotten something in there? Or – wait. Had he intended for me to find it all along?

  I pulled out the object – the sword – and grinned, beside myself with excitement.

  “Vanitas,” I muttered. Hot damn, Herald. What a parting gift.

  “Graves,” the sword said, a rumble of contentment in his telepathic voice.

  “I was wondering why Herald so violently wanted me to turn this backpack inside out.”

  “Yeah. Bit stuffy in there. Put me somewhere I can air out, will you?”

  “You don’t breathe.”

  “And you don’t know what it’s like being pressed up against all your underwear.” The sword gave a little huff. “Honestly, Dustin, how many pairs of boxers do you need?”

  “Yeah, I missed you too, buddy.”

  I gave Vanitas his own place of honor on an empty stone shelf. He looked impressive there, the greenish-gold of his tarnish glowing eerily in the lamplight.

  “Catch up later,” I said. “Gotta go talk things out with my new boss.”

  Vanitas didn’t answer, but I heard a mild scraping as he shifted on the shelf, apparently already getting comfortable with his new surroundings.

  I made my way back down the hall, passed the giant statue, and entered another corridor much like the one housing our quarters. This one had no doors to either side, though, just more pillars and hidden lights. My footsteps rang into the vast emptiness of the strange dimension, the sound of them fading into nothingness.

  At the end, the corridor opened up into a massive room, so huge that I couldn’t see the walls, the floors just stretching out into void. In the middle sat Carver, at an impressive stone desk set with amber jewels. Two ornately carved wooden chairs sat across his desk, each finished with lush scarlet upholstery. He gestured at one of them as he saw me approaching, beckoning me to take a seat.

  “So,” he said. “How is your room?”

  I patted at the velvet cushion before I sat, relishing the plushness of it under my fingers. “Sumptuous. I swear I’ve never used that word before today, but, wow.”

  Carver smiled. “I’m glad you like it.” He cracked his knuckles, unconsciously, it seemed, and I realized for the first time that he wasn’t wearing a black glove. I opened my mouth to remark on it, but Carver picked up right away.

  “For the last time, there is no such thing as a – what did you call it again? A Black Hand?”

  “Yes. That.”

  He scoffed. “There’s never been an organization of that name. Your former mentor used that to deceive you.”

  I nodded at his hand. “So what about the glove, then?”

  “I thought it looked stylish,” Carver said coldly. He drew his hand back, as if stung, and his lip twitched with just the barest hint of hurt. “Never mind all that. Now, to business. You will receive a salary for the services you will render under my employ, which will not be dissimilar to the work you did for the Lorica.”

  “Much appreciated,” I said, unsure of whether I should try to negotiate. We hadn’t discussed numbers, but something about Carver’s accommodations and the nature of his domicile, if it could be called that, told me that he wasn’t a stingy man.

  “I understand that you will want to locate your father. I can make no promises, but I will attempt to assist you in divining his whereabouts as well as I can.”

  “I – wow. Thank you. And to think that before all this I thought you guys just wanted me dead.”

  Carver’s smile shifted into something else, the quirk of his lip wry. “And to think that you tried to destroy me with your bottled lightning.”

  Blood rushed to my face, and I wondered if he could see me blush in the strange lighting of his not-office. “Sorry about that. Like I said, I thought you guys were gonna kill me.”

  “Water under the bridge,” he said, waving a hand dismissively. “In truth I appreciate the quick thinking. I understand those bottles were never meant for combat purposes, eh? Shows you have an ability to improvise.”

  Or, truthfully, that I had an ability to panic and throw shit at people when I was scared. But I didn’t say any of that out loud, and just nodded.

  “Now,” Carver said, folding his hands together. “Before we proceed. Do you have any questions?” He held up a finger. “Apart from the notion of what you are. That answer will come in time, as we grow to learn more of the Eldest.”

  I chewed my lip. I really only had one thing to ask. “What are you?” I said, shortly before realizing how rude that might sound. Too late to take it back.

  Carve watched me over the steeples of his fingers for a long, uncomfortable moment. Nothing in the temple made a single sound.

  “I am like you, in that I am also endowed with magical ability,” he said slowly. “Call me a sorcerer, if you will. The only difference is that I am older than many you may have met. As I’m sure you’ve come to learn, it is study and time that allows a mage to truly unlock his potential.”

  He set his hands across his desk, palms pressed down into the smooth stone. “I have found ways to extend my life beyond the bounds of mortal years. Several times over. I have, in a way, cheated death. Perhaps that is why others are unhappy with me, and consider me some kind of abomination.” He chuckled.

  Cheated death. I thought of Thea and how that had been her goal, finding detours around mortality, finding some method, no matter the cost, of bringing her children back. For the briefest moment I found myself sympathizing with my murderer, and for the briefest moment my mind flashed with anger.

  “Beyond material gain, beyond my protection, knowledge is what you stand to earn by being under my employ,” Carver continued. “For as long as you work with me, I promise to further your study in the arcane arts, to show you the things your erstwhile mentor never taught you.” He leaned back, raising his nose only the slightest. “I will show you how to control the darkness that lives inside your very bones.”

  My mouth was dry. “I would like that very much.”

  Slowly, painfully slowly, the smile crept its way back to Carver’s lips. “Then it’s settled. Accept my offer, and you begin your apprenticeship.” He extended one hand, the jewels on his fingers gleaming in the magical firelight. “Dustin Graves. Are you ready to start your life anew?”

  I took his hand.

  END

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  About the Author

  Hi, I’m Nazri, a Filipino-Malaysian author based in California. I’m trilingual, but I really only write in English. I can also speak just enough Sindarin and Valyrian to impress absolutely no one. My urban fantasy novels focus on heroes who use wits, style, and their wildly unpredictable magic to save the day. Think sass and class, while kicking ass.

  My influences come from horror and fantasy: HP Lovecraft, Anne Rice, George R.R. Martin, Chuck Palahniuk, Terry Pratchett, and Neil Gaiman. Growing up I was shaped by the Blood Sword, Fighting Fantasy, Lone Wolf, and Grey Star game book universes. I’m also inspired by video games, specifically the Castlevania, Final Fantasy, and Persona series.

  Long story short, I’m a huge nerd, and the thrill of imagining wizards and monsters and worlds into existence is what makes me feel most alive. Writing, to me, is magic. If you enjoyed my work, please do consider leaving a review. Thank you for reading, and thank you for supporting independent authors everywhere.

  To see more of my books, follow me on social media, or simply say hello, visit me online at www.nazrinoor.com.