The Magic, Broken

by Rick Field

  Liane swallowed deeply. “So the energy I used to repair my containment, and the energy used to heal my injuries, have resulted in death?”

  The ancient Arch Druid was silent once more. “Perhaps. Perhaps not. It is always difficult to tell when working on small scales. There may have been less sunshine. There may have been more rain. Perhaps a sick squirrel passed away while it may have lived otherwise.” He nodded. “Yes, it can be hard to tell.”

  Oddly reassured, the Pillar asked, “So the danger you warned of is the danger of abuse, and the results it may have on nature when used on a large scale?”

  The old man's lips twisted into a grin. “Do not underestimate the lure of eternal life, Pillar. Never being sick, never sustaining injury, never growing old. The prospect of such a life would appeal to a great many people. The fact that you immediately think of the damage done to nature rather than to the lure of such a life does you credit. I see I chose rightly when I decided to save you.”

  She had never felt so complimented in her life, and fought to keep the blush off her cheeks. “You are better, Pillar,” Lord Xard said, standing up with a groan. “It is time for us to go our separate ways. I have my tour of Kiria to complete, and you no doubt have your superiors to contact.”

  The young Pillar stood up from the bed, only to watch it devolve back into the ground, the wood pulling back as if aging in reverse, disappearing back into the soil from which it came. At the same time, the overhead canopy retracted into the walls, before the walls themselves separated, suddenly revealing they were separate trees, and retracting back into the ground. Almost immediately, the two Nobles found themselves in an open field.

  She stared in amazement at the sight. “I am always amused at the reactions of other Nobles when they see for themselves the power of nature. You Nobles may command the element of wood, but it remains dead material, or merely animate living trees. It is to the Druids to govern life.”

  Liane smiled. “Thank you for your excellent care and for your answers to my curiosity, My Lord,” she said, a small part of her mind wondering about the Deep Secrets, where she had learned to breathe life into inanimate creations, or blended creatures.

  “I believe I have nowhere near satisfied your curiosity, Pillar, but I will accept your thanks in the spirit in which they were given.” He touched his chest, right where his heart lay, then touched his forehead. “May you find long life. Fare thee well, Pillar.”

  She hurriedly did her best to copy the gestures and return his greeting. She hadn't expected it, and probably made some mistakes, but the Arch Druid seemed appreciative at least. She watched him leave, surprisingly springy for a man his apparent age, when she suddenly felt the overwhelming urge to relieve herself.

  Her magic, freshly contained in a brand new grid, reacted beautifully to her commands, and she had an earthen private chamber within moments. She had been unconscious or healing for gods only knew how long, it was to be expected that her body would need care after her return to the land of the living, but Liane wished it would have waited for a more opportune moment.

  Twenty minutes later, the earth walls fell away, taking her physical waste to the depths. The Pillar drew a breath, raised her hand, and intoned a spell. It was time to let the world know she was alright, and to take whatever punishments the Overseer would have in store for her. She had fought and killed a member of the upper echelons of the military, and proceeded to vanish for quite a long time. The Overseer would not be pleased.

  The flaming circle connected, and the Overseer's face filled the communication's spell. “Good day, Overseer,” Liane said, bracing herself for the lambasting that was to come.

  To the younger woman's immense surprise, her superior merely drew a breath, and said, “Good day, Pillar. It is good to see you once more. We feared the worst after your disappearance a week ago.”

  Liane blinked. “A week?” she asked. Had it really been that long?

  The Overseer nodded once. “It took us four days to get another operative out to the General's mansion, at which time it was determined you were in a battle to the death. Your horse was subsequently discovered, but you had vanished without a trace.” The woman brought her face closer to her end of the communication's spell – making her face larger on Liane's end. “Please report.”

  The young Pillar hastened to comply, and dragged up every little detail she could remember, before ending with the battle, her injuries; the damage done to her magic, and her brush with death before being rescued by the Arch Druid.

  “I see,” the Overseer said. “You have performed admirably. Any battle on such a scale that you can walk away from is a good one. Just one more detail before I ask you to contact someone else. What spell did you use against the Lord General? Lord Aphraim the Necromancer has been frustrated at his lack of ability to summon the deceased General's spirit.”

  Liane licked her lips, ignoring the strange comment about contacting someone else. “I used an experimental spell, My Lady. It was a last resort type of magic, and literally removed the life from his body.”

  The Overseer was silent for a few moments. “Lord Milor has told me that you are the single most frightening woman he has ever seen in battle, Pillar. I believed him to be exaggerating. Now I find you casting magic’s that destroy a person's soul, and I feel that he did not do you justice.” The older woman sighed. “It is regrettable, but you did what you had to do to survive, Pillar. I will not fault you for it. Your verbal report was comprehensive; our conversation has been recorded. I will have a junior Pillar write it out. Take your time returning to the Capital. You have earned some time to get back on your feet.”

  The Pillar fought to hide her surprise. She had expected criticism and punishment. Instead, she received praise and time off. “One last thing, Pillar, if I may.”

  “O-of course, My Lady,” Liane answered, hating how her voice betrayed her shock.

  “I would recommend that you contact Lord Milor. He has been most upset with your disappearance, and I am convinced that he would prefer to hear the good news from yourself rather than from me.”

  The Pillar nodded. “Of course, My Lady.”

  The Overseer nodded. “Thank you. Pillar Service, out.” The spell ended, and Liane was left, staring at her open and upturned hand. Frowning, she intoned the spell once more. Her friend was the most composed individual she had ever known. 'Upset' was not something she usually associated with him. Except for his strange jealousy, of course.

  Then again, Milor had been acting odd during the opera as well. She wondered what was wrong with him lately.

  The spell connected, and Liane found that the Overseer had been understating things. Her friend looked as if he had not slept in multiple days, his eyes sunken and bloodshot, his face not shaved to its usual perfected standards. “Good day, My Lord,” she greeted him, tactfully ignoring his disheveled state.

  For a moment, a broad smile split his lips, and his eyes shone. For that same moment, she was sure he would leap up and yell her name, before he managed to reign himself in. “My Lady, it is so very good to see you again. How are you?” he asked.

  “I was mortally injured and would have perished, had not the Arch Druid come across me and decided to heal me, My Lord,” Liane replied honestly. She saw him flinch at the mention of her almost-death. “Luckily, I am now back to normal. Unfortunately, according to the Overseer, I have been missing an entire week.”

  He nodded, strangely not speaking. Was there a suspicious shine to his eyes, or was the spell malfunctioning? She wished that she could see him in person, rather than across a tenuous magical connection.

  “I simply called to reassure you that I am in excellent health, and will be making my way back to the Capital, My Lord,” she said into the uncomfortable silence.

  “Shall I send a carriage, My Lady?” he offered. “It would be no bother, I assure you.”

  Liane frowned. The offer was unusual – he normally would be professional around her when she was on du
ty. She was pretty sure other Pillars didn't get a carriage after they were injured. “I will be fine, My Lord. The Overseer has told me to travel easily and calmly.”

  He seemed displeased about something. “Of course, My Lady. Have a safe journey back.”

  She dipped her head. “Thank you, My Lord. I will notify you on my return to the Capital.”

  Her friend relaxed slightly. “Thank you, My Lady. Imperial Palace, out.” The spell broke, and once more, Liane was left to stare at her hand.

  What had been going on with Milor? He was acting strangely out of character, and his unkempt appearance was a disgrace for someone in his position. Surely some servant would have alerted him to it? She promised to take a closer look at her friend's strange behavior when she returned to the Capital.

  She turned, and started walking. She had to return to the village and see if and what she owed on the rental for the horse. The Overseer had reported that her horse had been found, but she hadn't said what had happened to it or to its rental agreement. In theory, Liane could just walk away. She was a Noble after all, and on a mission for Kiria. In truth, the Pillar knew how hard most Commoners had it and she didn't want any open debts left behind.

  Her rebuilt body protested mildly when she started walking in the direction of the village, her freshly contained magic continued to behave, and the weather stayed fair. After half a day's walk, her legs felt like they had always felt and the last niggles, pains, and discomforts had vanished from her muscles.

  Liane walked into town wearing her actual face, rather than throw up her hood and use the persona of Nadia. Her assignment had been completed and her identity had been revealed, there was no further reason for her to hide who she was. The people of the farming community paid her respect, but otherwise didn't bother her as she walked to the traveler's inn.

  She paid her dues, not at all surprised to find that her bill had not been settled. She had to pay extra because the horse was still at the former General's estate, and she had the impression that she was lucky she was a Noble or her word would not have been believed.

  Since she had been walking for quite some time, and her body was still recovering from the shock of her near-death and accelerated healing, she decided to have a drink first, and see about getting a room if it became too late to set out for the capital. The Overseer had told her to take her time getting back, and for once Liane had no intention of protesting the order.

  Settling in at a table in a corner where she could watch everyone, Liane hadn't taken more than a deep drink from her mug when a man hurried into the inn. He ignored the greetings shouted at him, his frantic eyes searching the establishment before settling on the drinking Pillar.

  He hurried over to her table, taking his hat off as he did so. When he stood in front of her, he frantically played with it, as if suddenly tongue-tied. Liane took another drink from her mug, and looked up at him. “May I be of assistance?” she asked coolly, feeling annoyed at the fact that her drink was about to be interrupted.

  He tried to give her a smile that came out as a grimace. No doubt he had tried to go for the harmless look, but it failed miserably. “I'm glad you're here, Ma'am,” he said with a country baritone. “I was thinkin' 'bout sendin' a note to the capital, I was, but now that ye'r here, ye're jus' in time, ye're.”

  She ignored the lower-class slang from the man, and focused on the message instead. “And how may I be of help?” she requested, not at all enjoying the fact that she had to ask her question again.

  “We've caught this here strange feller, Ma'am. He's all dressed in strange clothes 'n stuff, nuttin' from these parts, Ma'am. He dunna talk like us regular folk do, either. Right strange feller, he is. Pale like a ghost.” He leaned closer, and glanced round, as if explaining some great secret. “Lotsa folks 'round these parts think he maybe a demon or summat.”

  Liane blinked. There was no such thing as a 'demon', but the description of a pale male dressed in strange clothes got her interest. She drained her drink in one go, returned the mug to the bar, and motioned to the door. “By all means, let us see this demon of yours.” Since she hadn't bothered to check her voice, the people present in the bar fell silent, before starting to talk excitedly among themselves. The man who had come to warn her just nodded dumbly, and walked out in front of her.

  “We've got 'im locked in the jail, Ma'am,” he explained as they walked out into the street. “Strange feller, he is. Very strange. Had some gizmo that made cracking noises, like thunder. He dinna hurt anyone, though. Little Jim clonked him good from behind 'fore he could, we reckon.”

  Liane knew enough to realize that 'Little Jim' would probably be the tallest, broadest man in the town, and she winced at the thought of what damage such a man could do if he 'clonked someone good'.

  The Noble just nodded, and followed her guide to a building in the center of the town, a building that was actually made of stone rather than the wood more commonly in use. They walked inside, and her guide spoke to a man glaring at the metal bars of a small room. “Little Jim, we've got this 'ere Noble to look 't our feller,” her guide said.

  Liane looked at 'Little Jim', and realized the man wasn't as big as she had imagined. He stood maybe as tall as Milor did, but was easily twice as broad. When the man effortlessly lifting himself off his chair, she also realized not an ounce of that weight was fat.

  When she thought about how much damage a hundred kilos of muscle could do when hitting someone over the head, she managed to hide her wince. “Nice ta meetcha, Ma'am. I sure hope ya can figure this guy out. He's a strange 'un, alright.”

  “I do hope he isn't the demon you think he is,” Liane said, unable to resist a joke. “If he is, he's probably cursed all of you for hitting him and locking him up.” Both men twitched and flinched. Liane managed to smother a smile. It was fun to tease superstitious Commoners every now and again.

  She approached the bars, and found a man curled up on his side on the cot, staring angrily back at her from the shadows that semi-hid his features. She glanced at him through her magic-sight. “You're in luck,” she said to the two Commoners. “He doesn't have any magic in him, so you're very likely to go on being not cursed.”

  Tactfully ignoring the relieved breaths from the two Commoners, she turned back to the prisoner, who hadn't even bothered to get off his cot. “Who are you?” she requested politely. The man stared at her, before finally seeming to realize that she was in charge, and got to his feet with a groan.

  The damage to his head wasn't as bad as she had feared, and the man seemed fairly lucid. He spoke to her, and she had to frown to catch the last couple of words he said. Great, he really was a foreigner. One of the pale ones she had seen during her trip to New York, speaking that language they used there... what was it called again?

  It took a few moments for her thoughts to retrieve the name of the language. English, that was it. The man spoke English. It sounded dreadfully common. Holding her staff in front of her, she spoke a few words, feeling her magic react instantly. The man stared at her, her staff, back at her.

  “You should be able to understand me now. Who are you?” she requested.

  “I am Captain Steve McDonald of the United States Air Force,” the man snapped. “I request you release me at once, and contact my government immediately!”

  Liane looked at the two Commoners that were still in the room. “He's from beyond the Great Barrier. You've caught a foreign invader.” She reached into her purse, withdrew a couple of gold coins, and gave them to the locals. “Good work.”

  “I am NOT an invader!” the prisoner stated angrily, grabbing hold of the bars, and giving them a frustrated yank. “I demand you release me immediately!”

  The Pillar looked back at the man behind the bars, while the two Commoners behind her edged to the door, nervous about being in the same room as a Noble that got yelled at by a foreign invader. Liane's face lost the last traces of emotion. “You are wearing the uniform of a foreign military service, breached our
borders without permission, and tried to use lightning magic against our citizens. How does that not make you a foreign invader?”

  The man sputtered, then drew a breath. “I think we got off on the wrong foot,” he finally said. “I am a member of the United States Air Force. My airplane had a catastrophic malfunction, and I was forced to eject. I landed here by accident, I am not invading your country, nor did I intend to hurt anybody, which is why I fired into the air. That's called a 'gun' by the way. It's not magical by any means.”

  Liane glanced at Little Jim, who seemed to understand her look, and tenderly brought over a contraption of sorts. Liane studied it, it looked a bit like a miniature cannon, with a barrel attached to a handle. It was designed for humans, by humans, so the design seemed pretty straightforward. There was a hook her index finger could curl around while holding on to the handle, which probably triggered it.

  “Of course it isn't magic,” Liane said, looking up from the weapon to the prisoner. “From the look of it, it is a miniature cannon, triggered by pulling back this lever. Crude, loud, but nonetheless effective. It is still a weapon, and you still discharged it. You claim your arrival was by accident. How shall we go about proving this?”