Red Magic: an Adult Dystopian Paranormal Romance: Sector 6 (The Othala Witch Collection)

by JC Andrijeski

  Donal wouldn’t listen to any of the options I offered that involved me going in without him, however. I couldn’t really say much about that, since I’d argued the same on my own behalf, but it frustrated me.

  Still, he seemed certain he could do this, and clearly he knew his own capabilities better than I. Despite my acquiescing to his wishes in the end, I couldn’t quiet the loud hammers of my heart now, as we approached the first sentry station in the main outer wall.

  If Donal was seen climbing the wall by anyone who mattered, we would both be questioned and detained.

  Donal would be imprisoned... likely killed.

  I doubted I would fare much better, particular once they’d used magic to discern the connection between us. According to Donal, once they saw me freeing him at the docks, I’d be guilty of a capital crime. I couldn’t even claim ignorance, since they’d also see Donal telling me plainly who and what he was, and confessing to being an escaped slave.

  After talking awhile longer on that roof, we’d agreed to wait until nightfall, in the hopes that fewer would be wandering the grounds who might see him. We also hoped to minimize the chances of me running into people I knew, especially those who might wish to detain me for whatever reason.

  Now that I was faced by the reality of our break-in, however, I couldn’t help but worry that nightfall made us more conspicuous, not less. I did not usually return to the palace at this hour. Nor did I usually wander around the palace grounds after supper.

  Since it was far too late for such second-guessing now, I fought to quell those doubts, reminding myself that, however infrequent it might be, I had returned to the palace at this time before, especially during exams. I also sometimes walked the grounds at night, especially when worried about my performance in school.

  Really, though, I couldn’t help but think this whole endeavor foolhardy in the extreme.

  From the roof, it all seemed so logical... even well-planned.

  Two things were clear from the very beginning, however.

  One: getting Donal in and out (and potentially some additional number of red witches along with him) would be the most difficult part of our task.

  Two: everything depended on our doing what was needed quickly and quietly. We would only succeed if no one knew what we were doing until after we were already gone.

  Unless I’d seriously miscalculated, my absence shouldn’t yet be noticed.

  My mother and I didn’t normally see one another during the school week. Knowing her and how she spent her days, she likely wouldn’t notice anything for some time, unless someone told her I was missing. My room was on the other side of the residence from her private compartments. We generally didn’t cross paths except at court functions.

  There was a very slight risk that the monks might have contacted her about my absence that day. I strongly suspected they would not have done that, however. They would not wish to be too hasty in reporting such a thing, for fear of how it would make them look.

  No, I should be safe for at least the next twenty-four hours.

  Possibly the next forty-eight.

  The problem was Donal himself.

  He wasn’t exactly an inconspicuous person. He was tall, darker than most of those in the palace, and wore unusual and striking features. He was also significantly more muscular and just harder-looking than anyone I had seen before, in some way I still couldn’t quite define. Apart from the bare facts of his height, unusual features, complexion, broad shoulders and large hands, there was just something about him that demanded to be noticed.

  He drew the eye, more than any person I’d ever met.

  He exuded power, so that was part of it––I couldn’t imagine anyone looking at him and not knowing he was a warlock.

  But it was more than that, too.

  He carried the flavor of such a wholly different power than that of the white warlocks and witches I had grown up. It was so obvious to me, I could barely tear my eyes off him.

  I couldn’t comprehend others not staring at him, as well.

  I’d noticed it even more once the two of us were standing again, rather than sitting on the roof of that crumbling hotel. Once we agreed we were serious about our planned break-in, we got up to make diagrams and discuss plans.

  When I’d voiced my concerns aloud around the difficulties I saw in concealing him, Donal himself only shrugged, waving off my words.

  “Ye are like me,” he reasoned. “Ye’ve met not others of our kind before now. It’s only natural ye are drawn to me. It will not be the same for them.”

  I’d shaken my head. “Donal. That is not all of it.”

  “It is.” He looked down at me. “I am having the same issue with you... and I have known others of my kind my whole life.”

  Pausing at that, he’d looked briefly about to say more.

  He didn’t, though.

  His expression hardened slightly as he seemed to change his mind. Turning away from me once he had, he aimed his stare back at the map I’d drawn, pursing his lips.

  “It won’t be the same for them,” he’d repeated, his voice gruffer, more stubborn-sounding. “We simply need to find a reason for me to be there.”

  My voice was equally polite, but sharp.

  “I disagree, Donal. There is no possible reason I can give that will make you look like you belong there. And they do notice me... even with the make up and the clothes and whatever else. And I’ve lived there my entire life.”

  “Ye can dress me in a way I won’t be noticed,” he offered. Again, his words felt like a dismissal. Motioning vaguely with a hand, he continued to stare off the edge of the roof. “I can’t use magics in there, of course... not red magics, especially... but we can hide me in other ways. Use servant’s passages and keep me out of the main areas. Or dress me as your servant companion and bring me with you... or as one o’ the Guard. Or a stable hand.” He’d given me a faint smile. “...I’m dirty enough to be one. And I’m good with horses.”

  I’d only frowned at him, skeptical.

  Remembering the people staring at him in the Water Market––women, especially––I didn’t share his optimism. Of course, I knew why the women stared. But even if those at the palace didn’t stare at Donal for precisely the same reasons I or the women in the Market did, they would still notice him. I was certain of it.

  To end our discussion, Donal gently steered the conversation back to logistics.

  “First things first, princess. We must decide where they’re likely to be keeping our fellow hunters and huntresses in red magic, before we do ought else. At the very least, we must try an’ narrow the possibilities. From what you’re saying, the grounds aren’t small... it could take us weeks to search it all. We must have a plan.”

  I nodded, but continued to look at him, trying to see him through objective eyes.

  He was wrong. I knew he was wrong, and he likely knew it, too.

  But in the end, I found myself bending to his wish to not argue the point.

  Thinking about it now, as the lit, arched doorway grew larger in my sight, I wondered why he’d been so adamant about coming in here with me, given the increased risk to us both. Truly, I found myself second-guessing why we were doing this at all.

  Why not first look for other freed members of his kind? Improve the odds of our success by planning a real incursion, with real numbers?

  True, we were using my own access to the palace doing it this way, so there was a short time window aspect to that. Yet I wondered how we could accomplish much, just the two of us, against armed guards and trained white witches and my mother’s warlocks.

  Still, fear wasn’t my only reaction.

  The reality of what we were attempting also galvanized me strangely.

  We might free enslaved witches tonight.

  The idea excited me.

  It also made me strangely proud, and filled with a sense of purpose I hadn’t realized I lacked until I no longer felt that void in meaning. Freeing them was the righ
t thing to do. Moreover, we needed the help, as Donal said. If we were ever to escape the Regent’s Guard, much less the white witches who manned Heaven’s Sky, we needed numbers.

  The more of us there were, the better chance we had to negotiate a truce, at least.

  If enough red witches left with us, we might even be able to expose the realities of red magic and slavery to all of those living in District 6, human and magical-folk alike. In the process, we might free the rest of the captive red witches, including those on the other side of the river, from where Donal had come.

  The information would not be met uncritically.

  There was a reason the Regent and the other royals had not told the people of this enslavement. There was a reason they hadn’t admitted to using red witches for killing ravagers in addition to employing Heaven’s Sky. Both things went against every supposed principle touted by the white witches and the monastery for hundreds of years.

  They made the law of District 6 a lie.

  Glancing towards the trees to my left, where I knew Donal to be, I swallowed.

  By then, I’d nearly reached the edge of light thrown by the torches.

  “Halt!” A strong, deep voice, one I recognized. “Identify yourself.”

  The call was mere formality, but I couldn’t help but tense.

  I made my voice calm, however.

  “It is only I, Maiwe Laiyalara.” I felt my face warm slightly, wondering if Donal would hear the name, and, more importantly, if he would know it. For the guard, I sighed a bit, as if tired or bored. “...Returning home from a long day of classes and study.”

  I was close now; I could see the guard who had spoken.

  He was tall and broad-shouldered, nearly as large as Donal himself. Between his shoulder blades he wore his straight black hair in a long braid, as was the style of the Regent’s Guard. A rifle hung by its leather strap, which looped casually around his shoulders. He smiled at me under dark eyes, hands resting on top of the gun with folded fingers.

  He also wore a curved sword at his waist.

  Both the gun and the sword were primarily ceremonial.

  Even the Regent’s Guard was meant to avoid killing.

  They were trained to do it, however, if necessary.

  My Uncle Karlen told me they were taught to first use those weapons to wound, however, not to kill. They delivered potentially fatal shots only as an absolute last resort.

  For that matter, hard-projectile artillery itself was a last resort. Those rifles also fired electronic, wire-mesh traps. Those traps came out compact, but expanded as they flew to ensnare and stop a person cold by entangling them in wire and electrical current.

  They didn’t harm a person permanently, although I’d been told the experience was far from pleasant.

  “Hello, Maiwe.” The guard nodded to me in a friendly way. His voice came out teasing through his smile. “It is late for you. Did you get lost wandering through the spice markets again?”

  “Hi Garet,” I tossed back, rolling my eyes a little. “Are you really so bored in your job that tormenting me passes the time? Perhaps we should set some ravagers loose up here... give you and the men something to do.”

  He laughed. “Perhaps I only wish to see your smile, Maiwe.”

  “My smile?” I grunted, but smiled nonetheless. “You have an interesting means of procuring that smile. Are you sure you understand the concept of humor, Garet?”

  “Perhaps I do not,” he said, in mock soberness. “I cry every night, Maiwe, that such lovely white witches are confined to a life of celibacy and study.”

  “You should not let my mother hear you say such a thing,” I said, mock-scolding him back. “You are disrespected one above your station, Garet.”

  He only laughed again. “I got that smile out of you after all, lovely Maiwe. Perhaps my ways are not as ‘interesting’ as you think?”

  We’d known one another since we were children inside the palace, so I was both relieved and disturbed to see him guarding the wall as I helped another climb over it. He, more than anyone else, was easy to pull into a casual distraction. On the other hand, Garet, more than anyone else, might actually notice if I wasn’t acting myself.

  He was also smart enough to theorize as to why with some accuracy.

  I hoped he would ascribe it to tiredness, or worry about my studies, and leave it at that.

  “Are you going to let me pass?” I retorted, as if annoyed. “Or are you and your armed thugs really going to detain me to amuse yourselves in your boring work?”

  “It is a very difficult decision, I must admit, my lady. As I say, honorable Maiwe, next in line for the Regent’s throne...”

  I winced, I couldn’t help it, hoping Donal was already well over the wall.

  “...I cry myself to sleep every night, over the truth of your unattainability.”

  I let out an involuntary laugh, although the joke itself was an old one between us. I started to walk through the archway, but Garet stepped into my path.

  “I made you smile.” He grinned down at me. “You have to pay the toll, princess.”

  Another old joke.

  Garet and his friends had gotten themselves in big trouble as kids for playing “toll bridge” on the palace canals. The game essentially involved the boys demanding kisses from the girls as a price to travel from one side of the canal to the other. When the adult witches caught them at it, Garet and his pals were rewarded by being locked inside the temple for the day, made to scrub every inch of the floor with brushes and rags until the smoke-blackened tile shown.

  I got in trouble too, for hiding Garet when the Guard went looking for him.

  Snorting at the grown Garet now, I shook my head. “You must be bored, if you’re so anxious to be knocked down to cleaning duty once more. Shall I send my mother’s people down to ascribe you tasks? I’m sure they’re all as amazed as I that you were allowed in the Guard at all, given the headaches you caused so many in your youth.”

  Behind Garet, the other two soldiers laughed.

  Squinting in the firelight, I realized I recognized both of them.

  “Ah, Bila and Tren. How fitting. At least all three of you will remember how to scrub the temple floors. You won’t have to train any new cleaners, will you, Garet?” I said sweetly.

  Bila and Tren both grinned wider, glancing at Garet, who grunted.

  “Run away with me Maiwe,” he joked, his voice mock-mournful again. “You must know my life is empty without you... I promise to polish any floors you wish.”

  Covering my discomfort at the meaning of his words, given what I was planning that very night, I let out another derisive snort. Giving him a faint smile, I walked forward, pushing him lightly aside when he didn’t get out of my way. I used my covered arm, since I didn’t dare touch him where there were witnesses, even if those witnesses were Bila and Tren.

  I couldn’t help but give Garet a last look as I passed through the archway.

  As much as we joked with one another, we had been, and still were in many ways, real friends. Some of our banter had truth to it––on my side, at least. Ever since I’d seen fourteen seasons, I hadn’t been allowed to play with the other palace children. It had been lonely on the palace grounds in the years since, even after I’d made friends at the monastery.

  Garet and I remained overly-familiar with one another, but I’d often wondered if he did it in part because he knew how lonely I was.

  He didn’t dare do it when other white witches were around, or might be in earshot. Given that, I knew it must be quiet on this side of the palace for now.

  On a whim, I turned towards him once I was on the other side of the gate. He leaned against the right side of the arch, his tall form outlined by firelight.

  “You haven’t seen my mother tonight, have you, Garet?”

  The question came out serious enough that his teasing grin faded. He answered me just as seriously. “No. Is something wrong, Maiwe?”

  I immediately regretted the que
stion. “No... nothing wrong, not at all. I am simply back later than I planned. I forgot to tell her I had a late study session.” Realizing how odd that probably sounded to him, given how little my mother and I interacted, I added hastily, “She’s mentioned me coming to the banquet tonight, is all. I don’t know why.”

  The frown between his eyes smoothed. “Ah. No, I haven’t seen her, Maiwe.”

  “Thanks, Garet.”

  I hesitated, but only the barest breath, before I turned.

  Still, I couldn’t help but feel sad, realizing I might never see him again.

  Chapter 8

  THE SECOND GOODBYE

  WHEN DONAL FIRST asked me where the red witches might be kept on the palace grounds, I had no answer for him.

  At the time, both of us still stood on that crumbling hotel roof.

  I truthfully hadn’t yet been able to decide how such a thing could even be possible, particularly over such a prolonged period of time. I certainly had no idea where they might be hidden.

  The palace grounds were never deserted.

  No part of them I’d seen was particularly private, either, apart from specific bedrooms.

  Humans and white witches wandered the ancient buildings’ passageways and torchlit gardens, often at all hours of the day and night. Few of those who lived in the palace were particularly good at keeping secrets. Gossip coursed like water through servants, guards and courtiers alike, covering topics as trivial as sexual liaisons and as momentous as ravager attacks on the northern frontiers.

  They whispered about who liked who and who hated who. They whispered about who had done this and who had done that. Everyone knew how poorly I did at magic in the wat’s university, and how every year, I verged on failing all of my classes.

  Everyone knew who was in and out of favor with the Regent.

  Everyone knew who was in or out of favor with my mother as well.

  My mother, Lady Annika, as the Regent’s Blood, was the Regent’s closest living relative and first advisor. After the Regent herself, she was the most important witch in District 6.

  Whatever my aunt and mother themselves may know, I didn’t see how keeping a secret of such magnitude was remotely feasible, especially over hundreds of years.