The Magic, Broken

by Rick Field

  In her sleep she did not think or reason, she slept and dreamed and felt, her subconscious working its way around blocks of ordinary thought. Runes and glyphs and magical symbols battled before her mind's eye. Caught in the nightmarish scenarios of broken dreams, Liane was halfway aware that she was dreaming, yet halfway not. She wanted to wake, yet did not. She wanted the dream to end, yet not. She felt pain, yet it did not register, as if the pain was a mere image, a ghostly image of pain done to another.

  Finally, Liane awoke, alone. Her robes were clammy with sweat, and she wiped at her damp forehead. Slowly, she lifted herself from the comfortable bed. Her hands were free of wounds. She felt her neck – the sinewy scar left by the robber's blade had vanished. As she stood, she became aware of subtle differences in her body. She was slightly taller, felt stronger, and all the little aches that accumulated even at the tender age of 22 was completely absent.

  The Panacea had done as Milor had said, yet Liane wouldn't voluntarily use it again unless she was literally at death's door. Her rest had been anything but restful, and her plagued mind had spent the disturbed time trying to work out the secrets of Danulia's magic. Most of what it had done was lost to her in the light of full consciousness.

  Was it her broken magic that had created the broken dreams, or had it been a side-effect of using the cure-all? If it was normal, why had Milor not warned her? Perhaps he didn't know, she reasoned. If the medicament was as expensive as her friend had alluded to, perhaps it was to be used only in the direst of circumstances.

  She sighed. Wondering would not help her now. She shivered, her damp clothes drawing away her body's heat. It took a minor spell to dry them and restore herself to warmth. Wearily, she looked at the room. Where had Milor gone? The quarters were sealed; he could not have left them. Not without breaking down a wall, which would have drawn unwanted attention.

  And yet, she felt off; a subtle tang in the air pricking at her magical senses, alerting her that something was just not right. She closed her eyes, and felt. The intangible feeling remained as it was, a faint presence at the very edge of her senses.

  For a moment, she thought about conjuring Blood Magic. Releasing the thought as quickly as it formed, she stepped to the door of the guest room, cracked it open, and listened. Faint noises reached her, but they were too indistinct to separate friend from foe. Had her barricade been breached?

  “Epter,” she whispered quietly, her faithful construct leaving its hideout in the collar of her robes. While the city's protections prevented communication from passing the city's limits, they did not prevent her from contacting her construct. Navigating the tiny flying piece of magic, Liane scanned the corridors and rooms of the imperial quarters, reaching for the nearing sound. As the tiny construct flew, the Pillar cursed herself for not using it earlier, in scouting out traps. Had she been that tired and addle-brained, or had the Panacea done something to her brain?

  Liane's thoughts ended as Epter found the source of the sounds. They came from a room with a door cracked similarly to her own, and Epter slipped easily inside. Milor was present in the room, talking to a wall that held a number of recesses; each recess holding an ornate vase. She immediately realized why her friend had left the door ajar. While she could see him, and could easily identify that he was speaking to his strange wall, his speech was garbled into madness. She frowned, there must be a seriously powerful spell at work. She navigated Epter, and noticed that her friend's lips made the nonsense words of scrambled security.

  Her friend was obviously working some strange form of magic, and Liane recalled Epter even as she left the guest bedroom and navigated out of the guest quarters and into the private residence of the Emperor and his family, toward him. Reaching the ajar door, she knocked politely. “My Lord?”

  She was expecting her friend to bide her to enter, and her hand was already on the door to push it open. To her surprise, she found it pulled open beneath her hand, her friend suddenly appearing before her.

  “My Lady, you awoke quicker than expected,” Milor said, stepping out and subsequently forcing her to back away to allow him to do so. He closed the door behind him. Liane looked at her friend curiously. He was often secretive, but not often so blatantly. She knew him well enough to know that, whenever he was this secretive, there was a big secret that he was hiding and it was usually above and beyond her.

  “I would have you enter, My Lady, but before you do, I must have your vow and your oath that you will not reveal what you will see or witness,” Milor said. His face was grave, his voice resolute. She dipped her head, recognizing the shift from Milor-her-friend to Lord Milor of Kiria, Crown Prince of the Imperial Throne.

  She did not have to think for long. If Milor wanted a vow of secrecy, she would give it. Being a Pillar had made her used to such things. “I, Liane, known as the MagicWarper, hereby vow on life and magic never to reveal the secrets that are about to be revealed to me, unless given leave to do so by Lord Milor of Kiria or his father, Lord Elija of Kiria. I give my oath on my life and my vow on my magic. So I will it, so mote it be.”

  She felt a twinge as her magic accepted her oath, and she made to raise her right hand to prove it. Her friend raised one hand, warding off the gesture. “There is no need, you have taken the vow; that is enough. Please enter.”

  Chapter Ten

  When she entered the mysterious room, Liane wasn't sure what to really expect. She had seen inside, through Epter's eyes, yet the major security and the requirement to make an oath of secrecy just added to the mystery.

  “This, My Lady, is probably one of the largest secrets of our country,” Milor said as he preceded her inside. Liane was eager to follow, and found herself in a room that was larger than what she had originally thought. Epter's narrow point of view had warped the dimensions, and the Pillar found the room to be far larger than she had originally anticipated. The wall with niches stretched on, their number far exceeding her original estimation.

  The young woman eyed the wall with its large number of recesses and vases, trying to determine the reason for all the secrecy. The vases were ornate and quite beautiful, while the wall, although bare, was of extreme quality.

  “My Lords and Ladies, allow me to introduce, Liane the MagicWarper, our foremost magical theorist and Pillar of Kiria,” her friend said, and Liane looked sharply about, trying to see who he was talking to. “My Lady, please meet, my honored ancestors, the Emperors and Empresses of the sovereign Island Nation of Kiria.”

  Liane refused to gape, but she did give him an incredulous look. Just as she was about to speak, her heightened magical senses alerted her to another presence in the room, and the Pillar span about, her hand tightening around the shaft of Lucifer.

  A ghostly male figure approached them, and Liane immediately realized what was going on. She blinked, gaped, realized she was doing so, closed her mouth, and looked at the wall. Those weren't vases.

  They were urns.

  Powerful Necromancy was at work, able to bring back the spirits of those deceased rulers of bygone days, ready to give counsel to the current heirs and heiresses of their line. She found herself bowing without realizing it. “My Lord Emperor,” she said to the figure, who was now walking around the two of them, as if judging or weighing.

  “Lady Pillar,” the figure said. His voice was a soothing baritone, not nearly as frightening as the deep bass of Milor's father, and yet possessing the same strength and power. The deceased Emperor faced Milor. “So this is the one of which you spoke, Descendant.”

  Milor opened his mouth to reply, yet received no chance to do so as the ghost turned to look at Liane one final time, and said, “You spoke well. Already, she has deduced our nature.”

  Liane didn't know whether she had just been insulted or complimented, and so kept quiet. The last thing she wanted was to offend an Emperor – even if it was a deceased one.

  A tingle alerted her, and she turned her head in time to catch a whiff of ghostly energy come from the very first
urn, the niche on the very left side of the wall. The energy coalesced into a female figure. “Stop scaring the lass, Barrion, my lad,” the female said as she strode quickly toward the group. Liane felt out of her depth when she realized the figure was speaking in the Latin of the ancient Templar tongue. Her voice sounded twice, once in a whisper in the original words, and a second time, louder, almost-drowning the original, in the modern day Kirian language. Liane tried her best to ignore the ghostly lips forming different words than the ones the Pillar listened to.

  “Don't forget I knew you since you were but a twinkle in your father's eyes,” The new ghost finished, coming to a stop in front of the group. She stood barely to Liane's neck in height, and yet the Pillar knew without a shadow of a doubt that this woman was powerful. Not just Emperor-powerful, but real powerful. This ghost was of a woman who knew how to fight, under her own strength.

  “You've got good instincts, lass,” the Empress said, and Liane forced herself to listen to the modern Kirian rather than try and puzzle out the whispered-Latin of the old tongue. “I can see it in your eyes. You're correct, of course. I was the first one. I was in battle, and lots of it. I didn't have the fancy protections and country magics. I had to fight for myself and my people.”

  Liane swallowed deeply; that had been a compliment for sure, but at the same time she had been judging a previous Empress. The first Empress. The one who had united the country of Kiria. Suddenly, she felt really small and helpless. “Thank you, Lady Empress. My apologies for-”

  “None of that crap, lass,” the Empress interrupted her. “I didn't need that fancy Decorum crap back then, and I don't need it now. If what Milor says is true, you've been under constant attack for the last week. I respect those that have been in battle and fought for their lives.” She waved further conversation off, and turned to Milor. “So, what else has been happening? And where's your Da?”

  “My honored father remains asleep, caught in the same trap that has ensnared the rest of the Capital. My Lady Pillar woke me, as experiments in Blood Magic made during childhood gave her an intimate working knowledge of my magic, enabling her to not only override the wards and exempt me, but to also provide me with sufficient energy to wake me,” Milor said. “Our country is under attack, and with just myself and My Lady, I am in need of counsel.”

  The first Empress was grinning openly. “Experiments in Blood Magic, you say?” she asked with a tone angled precisely to indicate that she believed something of a more carnal nature. “I am pleased to see you took precautions during your 'experiments' to ensure there was no illegitimate heir to the throne.”

  Milor looked red with either embarrassment or anger, while Liane drew pasty white, unable to believe or comprehend the insinuation made by the ghost. Emperor Barrion, the male ghost, just shook his head. “You always were a most uncouth person, My Lady,” he admonished. He turned to both of them, and added, “Please ignore her insinuations, Descendant, Pillar.”

  Milor cleared his throat. “As we have only conjecture on what the traitor is doing, I do not know what the best course of action is,” the Crown Prince said, blatantly changing the subject. “We know that the traitor is somehow planning on taking over the country-wide protections that govern the Imperial Seat, and to place herself as Ruler. We do not know how she is planning on accomplishing this, nor how far she is in her efforts. We also do not know the extent of her forces present in the Palace, although we do have first-hand knowledge of her placing traps within these halls.”

  Voices spoke through, over, and under each other from the urns, each and every deceased ruler voicing their objection to what was happening. The desecration of the imperial palace, it seemed, was an extremely sore spot with the Emperors and Empresses of the past.

  “Silence,” the female ghost spoke. She didn't raise her voice. She didn't have to, for silence descended in the room regardless. “Placing traps is a perfectly valid tactic when up against a force superior in number, training, and power. Yet to do so against one's own country, in the palace of its rightful ruler, that is something I cannot forgive.” She focused on both the young man and the young woman. “The best way to accomplish this would be from the throne room, and break through the protections placed on the Imperial Seat. Most likely, she is attacking the near-sentient magical intelligence known as the Arbitrator of Ascension. Should she succeed, she will have elected herself as Empress and be magically, as well as legally, in charge of the nation. She would then be able to make changes at will and whim.”

  Both Liane and Milor were silent at that. It made a warped, perverted sort of sense, and neither liked to think through the implications should Danulia succeed. The first Empress drew a deep breath. “Since the entire government of the Kirian Nation is down to just you two officials, we will need to make do to prevent her from succeeding.”

  “My apologies, My Lady,” Liane interjected. “One of my friends, Lord Pertogan the Necromancer, is drawing together all the Nobles outside of the Capital that are assuredly loyal to Kiria, and is organizing them to do what is necessary – be that assistance, or stepping into leadership positions if required.”

  “I knew the lad chose well,” the Empress said, smiling widely. “Every man needs a good woman to organize things behind his back.” Liane just dipped her head in gratitude for the words, while next to her, Milor stiffened at the implied insult against his gender.

  “Knowing we've got a force readying outside the walls is of good comfort, My Lady,” Barrion said, turning his ghostly head to look at Milor. “You have done your country a great service, it seems that my young Descendant did indeed chose his friends and allies well.” He paced a few moments, then turned back once more. “The point made by our honored ancestor remains, however. You are the only capable Nobles left in the Capital that are loyal to our nation.”

  The as-yet unnamed first Empress nodded. “Lad, you must extend an offer of championship. Hoping your lady friend accepts, you must then seek out the traitor, and stop her. There is one last thing that you can do should you fail to stop her, however, I shall not speak of it until you have extended the offer and your friend has accepted. Even with an oath of secrecy, it must never be revealed.”

  Liane frowned, not liking where this was going. What did they mean with an offer of championship, and what more could she offer but an oath of secrecy?

  “I would hurry, Descendant,” Barrion said with a teasing lilt in his voice. “It seems your friend is beginning to become annoyed.”

  “My Lord?” Liane asked, turning to Milor. He looked as surprised and as confused as she had ever seen him. He looked at her, at once understanding the question she was asking.

  “Championship is something that was used often in the old days, but has fallen out of favor in recent times, My Lady. These days, the government is well organized, with various departments overseen by department heads taking care of the business of day-to-day minutiae. Back in the old days, the Rulers were involved more directly, often able to rely just on themselves or their close personal retinue. Those days, when the Emperor was needed in one area, yet his presence was also required in another, a Champion would be chosen. This Champion would swear themselves to the Emperor, keeping his secrets, and acting with his authority. After the task was done, the Champion would be released, but the secrecy involved in the role would prevent the former Champion from divulging them – and contrary to present-day vows and oaths, those cannot be broken.”

  Liane swallowed deeply. While she had no intention of ever going back on her word, the knowledge that, should it be necessary, those vows and oaths could be broken was a comforting thought.

  “A Champion cannot act against the word or will of the Ruler, and because of it, acts as the Emperor. While today's Pillar service claims to be the voice and hands of the Emperor, those are mere words. A properly sworn Champion acts with the authority of the Emperor, and can therefore command Kiria's magic like the Emperor,” Milor explained. “Kiria's magic will obey a Champion as
it would the Emperor.”

  “But you are not yet Emperor, My Lord,” Liane reminded him. “Your father is Lord Emperor.”

  “My father is incapacitated, My Lady,” her childhood friend said. “I am Emperor until he is once again able to fulfill the role.”

  Her blood-pressure dropped. She had been behaving as normal with her friend, not realizing that she had been talking to the ruler of Kiria. “My Lord, I-”

  “I do hope you were not about to apologize, My Lady,” Milor interrupted her. “If it were not for you, we would not be here.” He turned to face her formally. “Lady Liane known as The MagicWarper, Pillar of Kiria, will you accept the position of Imperial Champion to me, Lord Milor of Kiria?”

  The young woman blinked, the speed of change in subject throwing her slightly off her game. “Just for the duration of this crisis, My Lord? I do not enjoy the thought of being bound to your will.”