by Jasmine Walt
Forsaken by Magic
The Baine Chronicles: Fenris’s Origin Story
Jasmine Walt
Dynamo Press
Copyright © 2017, Jasmine Walt. All rights reserved. Published by Dynamo Press.
This novel is a work of fiction. All characters, places, and incidents described in this publication are used fictitiously, or are entirely fictional. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted, in any form or by any means, except by an authorized retailer, or with written permission of the publisher. Inquiries may be addressed via email to [email protected]
Electronic edition, 2017. If you want to be notified when Jasmine’s next novel is released and get access to exclusive contests, giveaways, and freebies, sign up for her mailing list here. Your email address will never be shared and you can unsubscribe at any time.
Created with Vellum
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Also by Jasmine Walt
About the Authors
1
“Lord Polar,” a female voice purred. “Are you certain you wouldn’t prefer to let me handle this for you?”
Frowning, I looked up from the proclamation I was reviewing and stared at my Finance Secretary, Gelisia Dorax. Her hip leaned against the edge of my desk, her hand braced by my left elbow, and her full lips curved into a smile that most men would have considered to be temptation personified.
“All this paperwork has to be so incredibly dull for you.” She swept a manicured hand toward the stacks of documents awaiting my signature. “I know you would much rather be working on your scholarly pursuits than dealing with such petty matters. Let me help you.”
“That’s very kind of you, Gelisia,” I said dryly, “but that would require handing over my seal. You know as well as I do that it is against the rules unless I’m out of state.” A Chief Mage’s seal was supposed to be used exclusively by the one who held the office. While Gelisia had always been loyal to me, I wasn’t about to commit even a minor infraction for no better reason than laziness.
“Very well.” She leaned in a bit closer. I caught a whiff of her expensive perfume, and a small flash of heat ignited in my veins. It had been a long time, and not for lack of opportunity. Since a Chief Mage had to set a good example, I was not at liberty to indulge in casual affairs. And as I lived in the palace, there were eyes everywhere.
“Why don’t you take a break, at least, and join me for dinner?” Gelisia slid a soft hand up my forearm, and a wave of warmth rippled across my skin. “We’ve been working ourselves to the bone all week, Lord Polar. I think we both deserve a bit of play time.”
The suggestive note in her voice left little doubt in my mind as to what Gelisia meant. For a moment, I was tempted. She was a beautiful woman, with creamy skin, elegant features and long, thick mahogany hair that shone in the lamplight. While my behavior had always been circumspect, I had not failed to note her softly curved figure and trim waist hidden so tantalizingly under those loose mage robes.
But something niggled in the back of my mind—giving me pause, though I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. So I leaned back in my chair, putting more distance between us. “I’m sorry, Gelisia, but I really need to get through the rest of this tonight. Perhaps some other time.”
Those dark eyes flashed, but whatever emotion she felt disappeared too quickly for me to catch it. “Very well, you are the boss,” she said coolly, straightening to her full height. “I shall find other ways to amuse myself for the evening. Good night, Lord Polar.”
I raised my eyebrows as she flounced out of the room, head held high, the red silk robes flowing around her lithe form. She was only fifty-three, fairly young for a mage, but in a high official this pouting was somewhat childish. Shaking my head, I returned to my paperwork with a sigh. It was hard to believe, based on her unusual behavior, that Gelisia was a strong and intelligent mage. But I knew from my years of working with her that she was both. Perhaps my refusal had been hasty. On paper, she was a good match for me as a potential life mate. At nearly one hundred and seventy years of age, it was high time for me to settle down with a wife.
Perhaps I should have gone to dinner with her after all, I mused as I signed yet another proclamation from the Minister’s office. She has made her interest in taking things further quite clear and might lose patience if I keep putting her off.
My parents would be ecstatic at the prospect of finally getting grandchildren. But marriage between mages was an eternal commitment, and Gelisia and I had only known each other for four years, since she’d transferred from Osero to join the Nebara government. We’d gone on a handful of dates in the past six months, and I’d never been particularly moved to do more than kiss her good night. Was marrying someone I didn’t have strong feelings for a wise idea, when I would be bound to her exclusively for several hundred years?
Are you honestly expecting to find true love at your age? a voice in my head scoffed as I reached for another document. It has been nearly a century since you were head-over-heels in love. You can’t expect to hold out forever on this silly idea you might find a soul-mate.
I couldn’t deny the truth of that. The girl I’d fallen in love with all those decades ago had been completely unsuitable for a mage set on a political career, so nothing had come of it. I could barely remember her face after all this time. Now that I was Chief Mage, it was even more important to pick a woman who would be socially acceptable, an asset to a man of my position. And no other woman living in Nebara could hold a candle to Gelisia in terms of beauty, intelligence, or magical strength.
You don’t know that, I argued with myself. It isn’t as if you’ve made a concerted effort to find a wife. Why rush into marriage with Gelisia when you haven’t taken the time to explore your options properly? And there are women outside Nebara, too.
The clock on the wall struck six, and I blinked up at it. Had I been sitting here thinking about this nonsense for the last ten minutes? Shaking my head, I pushed all thoughts of Gelisia and courtship and future wives out of my head and turned my attention back to my paperwork. I wasn’t one to sit around mooning over my future when there was work to do. And the last thing I wanted was to sit in my office all night, not when the Old Loranian scroll my friend and colleague Iannis had just sent me was waiting for me in the palace library, still unopened. The sooner I finished up here, the sooner I could start unraveling its secrets.
And what does it say about you, that the prospect of reading a dusty old scroll gets your blood pumping faster than a beautiful woman’s invitation for dinner?
Sighing, I plucked the next document from the stack and spread it across my desk pad. My eyebrows rose as I read the subject line—it was an arrest warrant submitted by Frantina, a busy-body tax inspector who worked in Gelisia’s office. What on earth had convinced her to order an arrest? When I’d first taken office as the Legal Secretary, and eventually Chief Mage, the Nebara tax inspectors were arresting humans left right and center for getting behind on taxes. I’d quickly put a stop to that—our prisons were becoming far too clogged, and the long sentences only made it harder for the debtors to pay their liabilities. These days, my guidelines required the tax inspectors to work with the families before resorting to such heavy-handed measures.
But
as I read the report, I found that the problem was not about taxes at all. Frantina had arrested a human family of four for using illegal magic and causing bodily harm to a mage—namely, herself. According to her report, the Mundell family lived on a farmhouse two hours north of the state capital, and Frantina had gone there to check up on their tax filing. The family had two home-schooled children, and one of them had magically attacked Frantina, throwing her against an elm tree and causing severe bruising. The strike had been completely unprovoked, Frantina claimed, a lashing out from a willful child who did not know how to control her magic. She’d had no choice but to immobilize the girl. She’d used magic wards to prevent the family from leaving their home, then dispatched a team from the local Enforcers Guild to arrest the entire family.
Flipping the page, I noticed that there was an execution order for the girl—a Rellia Mundell—awaiting my signature and seal. My stomach turned at the thought of signing away the life of a six-year-old simply because she’d lost control of her magic. I strongly doubted Frantina’s insistence that the attack was unprovoked—she was an obnoxious woman at best, a tyrant at worst. I would have fired her some time ago had Gelisia not insisted that she had useful traits, namely persistence and thoroughness. Perhaps I had made a mistake in trusting Gelisia’s judgment on the matter. If Frantina had handled the situation better, we would only be looking at wiping the girl’s magic, not cutting off her head.
Annoyed, I slapped the report back onto the desk. Now that the situation had escalated to this point, there was no way to save the child from her fate. I held a significant amount of power as Chief Mage, but even I could not circumvent the Great Accord. Its provisions in such cases were crystal-clear, allowing no latitude whatsoever. I was going to have to sign the order.
And yet, my fingers hesitated over the seal. Surely there was no great rush, was there? I could let this marinate for a few days. Perhaps I should visit the family in prison to see if I could learn anything more about the case and hear their side of the story. It seemed a shame to order the death of a small child without even meeting her. The least I could do was look her in the eye before making such a momentous decision.
Sighing, I pushed back from the desk, abandoning my paperwork. I was far too disgusted to continue, and from my earliest years I’d been trained not to make important decisions or attempt complicated spells when my heart was full of anger. Better to wait until morning, when my head was clear and my emotions were settled, as behooved a mage of my years. For now, there was a Loranian scroll calling my name, and I did not intend to disappoint it.
2
“Polar,” my mother said, leaning forward in her chair. “Is something the matter? You’ve barely eaten.”
Blinking, I looked down at my plate. I’d taken a few bites of my pork chop and a forkful of peas, but most of the food was still there. “I apologize, Mother,” I said, forking a bite of mashed potatoes into my mouth. The moment was strangely nostalgic, reminding me of my childhood years. “My mind is elsewhere.”
“Anything we can help with?” my father asked. We were seated in the dining room at my parents’ house, having our weekly family dinner that I only missed when official business prevented me from attending. My father was a robust, silver-haired mage who looked about fifty-five, though in reality he was somewhere around three hundred and fifty years old. My mother was only twenty years younger. She used magic to keep her face unlined and her hair the same golden color it had been when she’d first married. A stranger would have been hard-pressed to identify me as her son.
“No thank you, Father,” I said. “I’ve just been working on a difficult translation.”
My father laughed, patting me on the back. “That’s our son,” he said to my mother, a twinkle in his gray eyes. “Always the scholar.”
I smiled, allowing myself to get caught up in small talk with my parents. What I’d told him hadn’t exactly been the full truth. I had been having difficulty with the translation last night after leaving the office, but the language hadn’t been the problem. I couldn’t get my mind off that execution order sitting on my desk. That it was taking up so much of my attention was almost more upsetting than the actual problem itself—usually I had no trouble setting work aside when I was studying or researching. Mages were trained to be objective and rational. Why was this case so different?
Perhaps the thought of executing a child is a reminder of your own lack of a family, a voice in my head suggested. I paused, arrested at the insight. I’d been thinking quite a bit about starting a family as of late. That was why I’d been courting Gelisia, even if it was only half-heartedly. I wasn’t old, not by mage standards, but I wasn’t getting any younger either. Most of my cohort already had families. I was the odd man out.
“Polar,” my mother said, her suddenly serious tone jerking me from my thoughts, “would you like me to set up a date for you and Lauria to go to the theater?”
I blinked. “Lauria?” It took a moment, but eventually an image of a female mage with a slight figure and carrot-red hair popped into my head. “Oh. You mean the neighbor who lives around the block?”
“Yes.” My mother beamed, pleased I’d remembered. “I’ve had her over for tea a time or two, and she is delightful. I think you two would hit it off.” Her smile dimmed a little. “It has been far too long since you’ve dated anyone, Polar. It is high time you gave me some grandchildren to spoil. Don’t you agree, honey?” She looked at my father.
My father cleared his throat, looking vaguely uncomfortable. “It is certainly your duty to carry on the family name,” he said. “You have a few cousins who still carry the ar’Tollis name, but they have not had children yet either. One of you needs to step up to the plate.”
“I have taken Gelisia out for dinner a few times,” I offered, hoping that would satisfy them. “I’m well aware that I need to settle down.”
“I’m sure Gelisia is a lovely girl,” my mother said dismissively, “but you need a woman who will support you and not just use you as a stepping stone for her own ambitions. Lauria, unlike Gelisia, is not a politician. She would make an excellent wife, Polar. Please, let me set up a date for the two of you.” Her pale blue eyes shone with the prospect of playing matchmaker.
I opened my mouth to deny her—I’d met Lauria once, and she was a bit too simple for my tastes—then closed it. Hadn’t I promised myself that I would start looking at the marriage mart more seriously? At the very least, I should have a real date with Lauria to determine whether or not she was suitable. Once the word got out that the Chief Mage was “shopping for a wife,” all the eligible bachelorettes of Nebara would come flocking, which would save me the trouble of having to hunt them down.
“Very well,” I finally said. “But make it for next weekend, so I have enough time to clear things off my plate.”
My mother gave me another dazzling smile, and just like that, the topic was swept off the table. We enjoyed the rest of dinner, and then I retreated to my father’s study to indulge in a glass of brandy with him, as was our custom whenever I came to visit.
“Try not to look so stressed about finding a wife,” my father advised as I lifted the glass to my lips. “I was just playing along with your mother back there—I’m not in any real hurry for you to marry. It took me a long time to find the right woman.”
I smiled, even as I wondered if there really was a “right woman” out there. “I’m not stressed about the prospect of marriage, Father,” I said, then took a sip. The brandy slid down my throat smoothly, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. “Finding a wife is hardly the most pressing issue I have to deal with as Chief Mage.”
“Then what is it that’s troubling you so? You’ve been unusually withdrawn this evening.”
I took another sip of brandy, steeling myself for the conversation. “There is an execution order sitting on my desk,” I said quietly, staring out the window overlooking the modest garden, “and if I sign it, I will be condemning a six-year-old girl to death.�
��
My father frowned. “A child? What offense did she commit?”
“She has magic,” I said simply. “And she used it to attack Frantina, one of our tax officials.”
“My word!” Father sat up straight in his chair, brandy forgotten. “Is she all right?” I knew without having to ask that my father was asking about Frantina, not the little girl.
I shrugged. “She is fine. Just a few bruises. Knowing the official in question, I suspect she provoked the family somehow, and the girl lashed out instinctively. You know children have a hard time controlling their magic, even the ones raised in mage families.”
“That may well be, but the crime cannot be allowed to go unpunished,” my father said sternly. “You cannot be thinking of letting her off, can you?”
“I have not made any such decision,” I said. “But surely you can understand my hesitation, Father? She is an innocent little girl.”
My father huffed. “You are far too soft-hearted,” he said, shaking his head at me. “If I’ve learned anything from my own time in office, it is that duty comes before feelings, no matter how difficult the circumstances. You should know better than to let your sentimentality get in the way, Polar. You’re a Chief Mage, and it is your duty to uphold the laws set forth in the Great Accord.”
I felt a flash of irritation at his smug certainty—once upon a time, my father had been Finance Secretary, but he’d never been forced to make life or death decisions like this. But it would do no good to say so. “Don’t you think that’s a callous perspective?” I argued instead. “After all, humans have never formally agreed to the Great Accord. Had we involved them in the ratification process, they never would have agreed to our current method of exterminating humans who are born with wild magic. Their only options are to have their magic stripped from them or to be executed. The law is too rigid to allow for extenuating circumstances, and yet I feel that this is a case where the outcome is too harsh.”
