The Magic, Broken: Book Two of The Magic Warper Trilogy

by Rick Field

  The Overseer nodded. “I have already sent out who I can, My Lord.” Her voice made it clear that she thought it was a recovery operation. “We can take comfort in the fact that she took out an enemy of the state.”

  Milor nodded. Somehow, he managed to drag his thoughts back to the here and now. “Do we have a Necromancer?”

  The Overseer nodded. “The Pillar Service's Necromancer is preparing to pull the General's spirit as we speak, My Lord. I will have a report for you as soon as postmortem interrogation is complete.”

  He just nodded, glad that at least some good would come from this, before his thoughts went out to his missing friend once more, causing him to almost miss the Overseer's departure. He needed to talk to his father. He started to stand, then sat down. A heavy weight had settled on his heart, an unfamiliar emotion making it difficult for him to breathe.

  No, he told himself. No, Liane wasn't dead. She was missing. Until he could see her body himself, he wouldn't believe it. He'd seen that woman crawl through the eye of a dozen needles, had seen her do unimaginable, unbelievable things. He had to believe her to be alive. She just had to be.

  Angrily, Milor stood up, and walked out of the room. The secretary nodded in greeting, but he paid her no attention. The guards outside fell into step behind him. No-one spoke, the intensity on his face was frightening.

  His father's office was at the end of the hall, and Milor's two guards joined the two guards of his father's office. The Emperor's office was laid out in similar fashion to Milor's own, with an antechamber that held a secretary's office, leading into the actual office itself. Milor walked straight past the Assistant-level Warlock manning his father's secretary desk, and pushed straight in to the office itself.

  The Emperor looked up sharply from the document he had been reading, his intense gaze boring into Milor's approaching form. It was highly irregular for Milor to enter his office without announcing himself. The Crown Prince sat without being invited.

  “I bring grave news, Father,” he said. “One of our agents of the Pillar Service is missing in action, presumed deceased.”

  The Emperor leaned back in his chair, his intense gaze appearing not to shift in the least. Milor knew better, knew the very fact that his father shifted positions was enough to indicate his change in attention. “What has happened, my son?” the older man requested.

  Milor handed over the same file the Overseer had presented to him earlier. “In summary, sabotage on a Great Barrier anchor was discovered. This resulted in the discovery of a traitor within the upper echelons of the government. Lord Marcel of the Rising Trees attacked the Pillar that came to inform him of the event, and to request his assistance. The Pillar killed the General in direct conflict, then removed herself from the scene, probably in an effort to prevent retaliation. She vanished four days ago. Her horse has since been discovered, the Pillar herself has not been found.”

  The Emperor glanced through the document, and Milor knew he would be studying it for details later. “Who is the Pillar that we will need to honor, either in life or death?”

  “Her assigned name was Nadia of the Black Marsh. We both know her as Liane, the MagicWarper,” Milor said, feeling his voice crack and hating himself for showing weakness. The Emperor remained silent, merely looked at his son.

  “I am very sorry to hear that, my son. We will find her,” the older man said, as gently as Milor had ever heard his hard father speak.

  “I have already given such orders to the Overseer, Father,” the Prince said, somehow gaining control over himself.

  Both men remained silent, lost in thought. Finally, Milor looked up at his father. “Father, is it wrong of me to feel the need to lead the search myself?”

  The regal man leaned back in his chair, and wiped tiredly at his eyes. “You know it is, my son. Remember the Arbitrator of Ascension. You must set aside all personal feelings and do what is best for Kiria. Ask yourself this, is it in Kiria's best interest that you go out and lead the search for your missing friend, or is it best served by you heading the investigation into this sabotage?”

  Milor nodded unhappily. “I know, Father,” he said. “And yet, it fills me with no comfort.”

  “Service to the Empire rarely does,” the Emperor said, getting up from his chair and walking around his desk. He placed one hand on his son's shoulder. “It is a lonely life that we lead.” Milor didn't say anything, just nodded. He felt closer to his father than he had ever felt in that moment, and he wished that it hadn't taken the disappearance of Liane to accomplish it.

  His father's hand tightened on his shoulder, and Milor looked up. “I am aware you have feelings for this woman, my son. I can only advise you, should you have the chance, to express those feelings to her.”

  The Crown Prince hesitated. “I believe I have done so on more than one occasion,” he replied, his voice tightening. “Unfortunately, it seems she feels only friendship for me.”

  The Emperor released his son's shoulder, and sat down once more. “On the surface, it does indeed seem that way. However, when we last attended the opera, she questioned me regarding 'strange and unusual' behavior on your part. It seems that your friend is unaware of your emotions, and is most confused. From what little I know about her, it seems that she has never been allowed to grow normally. She was orphaned, then was thrown into the Academy and Decorum. It is very likely she does not know anything regarding normal relationships.”

  Milor's shoulders hunched. Talking about Liane hurt, but still, it filled him with hope that his father would talk about her in the present tense, as if it were a mere matter of time before she were found, alive and well. “What do you suggest, Father?”

  “I would suggest that, should you have the opportunity to do so, you take her aside and express your feelings. Perhaps it will be required to let Decorum slip and express yourself plainly. It seems that your lady, despite her intelligence and wisdom, can be remarkably blind when it comes to personal relationship.”

  The younger man nodded. “That seems like good advice. Thank you, Father.”

  ********

  Liane felt strange, detached from reality. She was aware her eyes were open, yet she did not see. She did not breathe, had no pulse as far as she was aware; could not move. Was she dead?

  A jolt of energy coursed through her body. Suddenly, she could see, could feel, could breathe. There was no pain, her body still felt detached from reality, but the all-encompassing, paralyzing, nothingness had vanished. She was in some form of shelter, she realized. The walls were solid beams of wood, the roof made from densely woven leaves and branches.

  “You are awake. Good.” Liane strained to find the speaker, her hesitant eyes finally focusing on an old man, seated upon a chair that seemed carved from a single trunk of a tree. He stood up, groaning with the weight of his years, and shuffled to where she lay. Her deck was made from the same plant material that made up the roof, and she found it surprisingly warm and comfortable.

  “You were gravely injured, and at death's door when I found you,” the old man said, coming to a stop next to her improvised bedding, staring down at her. The Pillar licked her lips, and tried to speak. Her voice failed her completely.

  Realizing her predicament, he leaned over her, groaning with age as he did so. His hand picked up a glass next to her resting place, filled with a mysterious liquid that looked as clear as water yet seemed far thicker. “Drink this.”

  Liane didn't feel as if she had much of a choice as one hand helped lift her up with surprising strength, while the other brought the drink to her lips. The fluid was rich and sweet, and she almost choked at the first taste of it. She forced it down, her tired and injured body immediately calming down. Despite the richness of the taste, the mysterious liquid went down as easily as water, and sat soothingly in her stomach. She drank greedily.

  The old man returned her to her lying position, replacing the glass where he had taken it from. “May I know... who you are?” she managed to whisper.


  Her strange host sank down in his chair with obvious relief. His aging eyes remained fixed upon her, as if studying her. “I am the Arch Druid. You may address me as Master Druid or My Lord, should you wish.”

  The injured Pillar wanted to feel a lot of conflicting emotions at the thought of meeting with the Arch Druid, but the truth was that she didn't. Perhaps it was the drink, perhaps it was her exhaustion and injuries, but whatever the reason may be, she simply felt gratitude. “Thank you for helping me, My Lord.”

  He dipped his head. “It would not do for me to leave an injured agent of the government in mortal peril,” he spoke in calm, reassured tones. “You should sleep now.”

  “May I ask... what was that drink, My Lord?” she asked, feeling tired, but wanting to know what he had given her to make her feel so relaxed.

  He remained silent, staring at her, and she suddenly realized that he was actually debating her question. “You may,” he finally spoke. She felt a smile tug at her lips, and this time with permission, she directly asked what the drink was.

  The man's right hand motioned to the walls and the canopy of the shelter. “We all have our magic, Pillar. You have yours, we have ours. To explain it to you would require half a decade of study on your part.” He returned his hand to his chair. “Rest now, we shall talk again in the morning. You are injured and weakened, and something about your injuries is resisting conventional healing.”

  “My magic is damaged and unstable, My Lord,” Liane whispered in explanation. Rather than close her eyes and rest, she kept her gaze locked on her host.

  He sighed. “You are tenacious and inquisitive,” he reproved. “You must rest.”

  “I just want to know as many different areas of magic as possible, My Lord. My unstable magic may be incapable of using Necromancy and the Warlock Death Magic, but that does not mean I do not attempt to learn their theories,” the Pillar explained.

  Lord Xard, the Arch Druid, stared at Liane with ancient eyes that seemed to gaze deep into her very soul. The Lord Master of the Academy seemed to have a similar penetrating gaze, yet the Arch Druid's did not arouse her magic. “It is rare to find a Noble with dedication and curiosity these days,” he stated. He looked away from her, letting his eyes trail over the shelter's walls.

  “How much do you know of Druidism, Pillar?” he suddenly asked.

  “Not much, My Lord. No books exist on the subject, and the sole information we received at the Academy was that Druids used the magic of nature itself to promote agriculture, and prevent natural disasters,” she answered truthfully, fighting the urge to yawn and feeling her excitement rising.

  “And that is for a very good reason, of course,” the old man said. “Druidism can indeed be crudely described as being the magic of nature.” He focused on her once more. “Have you ever thought, Pillar, about nature itself? All the growing things?”

  “I have not, My Lord,” Liane answered.

  The Arch Druid closed his eyes in sadness. “So few do,” he whispered sadly. Once more, he waved his hand. “Think then, Pillar, about nature. About the energy that links all living things upon this earth.”

  She frowned, tried to think about what the old man meant. He could see her confusion. “The plants take energy from soil and sun. They grow twig and leaf and fruit. Plant-eating animals gain energy from the leaves and fruit, grow, and produce offspring. Meat-eating animals gain energy from the plant-eating animal, and grow and produce offspring. And when they all die, their energy is returned to the soil for the plants.”

  Liane nodded, that all made sense. “Energy can be directed, manipulated. This energy, the energy from nature in the soil, in the plants, the animals, the air, the planet around us – this energy can be directed toward efforts of human making, but at all times, care must be taken to ensure that great circle of energy within nature will be preserved and maintained,” the old man went on.

  The Pillar listened like an obedient schoolgirl, an intensity she had hardly used since leaving the Academy. “A Druid can, in small doses, withdraw energy from this circle. The trees gladly assisted in drawing energy from the soil and providing it for you.”

  She looked at the empty glass. “That was tree sap?”

  For a moment, he looked disappointed. “In a way, you could call it as such. Yes, it is the sap that came from trees. And no, it is not tree sap in the sense that you know it as. It was liquid natural energy, condensed by the trees that pulled it from the soil.”

  Liane thought that it would have gone a lot quicker had the Arch Druid simply told her it was a drink of pure natural energy, but then realized that she would have lost the opportunity to learn something about the most secretive of Nobles. “Thank you for the explanation, My Lord,” she said, closing her eyes. Before she fell asleep, she frowned. “I hope it didn't damage the trees,” she added, finding it strange that she suddenly cared.

  His voice held a note of amusement. “The trees are fine, My Lady. I am pleased you care.”

  “Normally, I don't think I would have,” she admitted, feeling a little ashamed of admitting it.

  “Nature's energy has different effects on each of us, My Lady,” he answered calmly. “Rest now.” There was an ethereal quality to his voice. She hardly heard it before her mind switched off and she fell into a deep and restful sleep.

  Time passed outside her reckoning. When Liane found herself adrift in a glowing sea of outside energy, she was unable to determine how long she had been asleep. Mere hours? Full days? It was impossible to tell. The energy that bubbled up within her was not her own and of a type she had never encountered before.

  It was almost ridiculously easy to visualize her magical core, its disheveled and broken state unchanged since the last time she tried to repair it. Her spell still took almost ten minutes to incant, but the outside energy source was almost over-eager to help once it understood what it was she wanted.

  One by one, she removed and replaced the damaged strands of her magical cage, first the horizontal ones anchored to the vertical redline, before determining that she felt neither tired nor out of energy and continuing to work on the vertical strands that were anchored to the horizontal blue line.

  It was work on a scale she had never done, had never needed to do, and it surprised her that she was able to complete the repair so easily and in one setting. The outside energy source withdrew the moment she completed her task. Before she realized it, darkness took her.

  She blinked her eyes open an undetermined amount of time later. The Arch Druid was still seated upon the chair, but his eyes were closed and the man looked at rest. Feeling completely fine, the Pillar slowly pushed herself to a seated position, only now realizing that there appeared to be a weird glow surrounding her body.

  The moment she sat up far enough, the glow vanished and her benefactor's eyes opened.

  “It seems you are well now, Pillar,” he spoke. “It took longer and more energy than I first thought to heal you. I feared the worst.”

  “As I have explained, My Lord, my magic is damaged and unstable,” Liane explained. “It requires containment measures before it will behave appropriately, and it is very likely that my unstable magic interfered with your attempts to heal me. During my... rest... I was able to access my core and repair the damage done to the containment of my core. Strangely enough, what should have taken me many days of exhausting work was done in a single session, with energy being supplied from an outside source.”

  The ancient man nodded thoughtfully. “I gave you a drink. It contained the energy of nature. Do you remember this?”

  “I do, My Lord,” she answered calmly, wondering where he was going with his explanation.

  He waved one hand at the improvised bed. “When it became apparent that your injuries were more extensive then healing spells and liquid energy could repair, I performed an ancient Druid rite. This rite is highly dangerous and known only to the very few that are in the upper echelons of the Druidic circle. I cannot give you particulars,
but know that you were tied directly into the circle of natural energy.”

  The Pillar blinked, no wonder she had all the energy she needed to repair her magic, she was pulling it straight from nature! “Thank you, My Lord,” she said, gratefully. Her insatiable curiosity urging her on, she added, “May I ask why this ritual is considered dangerous?”

  Again, the Arch Druid remained silent, debating her question. “I will not divulge particulars, Pillar. If this is sufficient, then you may ask.”

  A small smile tugged at her lips at the literal fashion the old man took her words. “Why is this ritual considered dangerous, My Lord?”

  Lord Xard steepled his fingers. “It staves off death, Pillar. One connected in such a fashion would, in effect, live forever. Nature would sustain them indefinitely and in there lies the danger – as the energy in nature is finite. Energy used to heal injury or sustain life must come from another. So one may live, another must die. Such is the nature of living. The chance for abuse is large, the results of said abuse great.”