by V. St. Clair
Surprised, Hayden said, “Uh, we’re up to our necks in sorcerers right now, or I’d be running through the forest screaming for Bonk to lead us back to safety.”
Oliver waved a dismissive hand and said, “I know we’re outnumbered, dolt, but have you actually bothered counting the enemy? If we’ve seen two-dozen sorcerers so far I’d be surprised. Kind of a small number for an invasion, don’t you think?”
Hayden was forcibly reminded of the times he’d discussed the war with Master Asher earlier in the year, how they were getting conflicting reports of the numbers of invading sorcerers. His mentor thought that things sounded fishy at the time, but was unable to explain it.
“Well, yeah…you’d think if you were going to storm another continent that you would bring more than twenty people along with you…” Hayden conceded. “But maybe this isn’t their main camp. They’re probably spread out all over the Forest by now, or else they’ve already broken through to the mainland and this is just the group that’s staying behind to secure their supply-lines.”
Oliver frowned but didn’t argue with his reasoning.
“Besides, it wouldn’t take many of them to overpower our people, since their magic still works inside of this stupid dampened area, and ours is almost useless. Unless our people thought to bring a bunch of knives along, they’d have to punch them all to death to win.”
Before they could discuss the matter further, the front of the tent opened to allow someone through. Expecting another grim-faced, high-ranking sorcerer, Hayden was absolutely stunned to see the young girl walking towards them.
His first thought was that she looked a bit like Tess: pale skin, blond hair that curled at the ends—currently tied up in a ponytail—and a small frame that made her look deceptively fragile. At second glance he realized that she was older than Tess, probably around Oliver’s age of eighteen or nineteen. Where everyone else was wearing leather or combat gear of some form, this girl was wearing loose-fitting tan shorts and a blue blouse. She didn’t have any obvious signs of rank or insignia on her, other than the sigla on her right hand, which Hayden couldn’t get a good look at from where he sat. She was the first person he had seen who didn’t have the sigla on both hands, though he had no idea what that suggested.
The girl stopped in front of them and looked over their faces with shrewd interest.
“Mikesh tells me we have esteemed visitors in our forest,” she spoke common every bit as well as Hayden, and with only a trace of foreign accent. “I assume he is referring to the two of you?”
She didn’t wait for him to respond before continuing. “Which of you bears the Magistra’s sign?”
If she hadn’t been looking at Oliver when she said it, Hayden would never have had time to compose his facial features before she turned back to him. He felt the blood drain from his face and nearly swayed on the spot, because the Magistra was definitely someone he had heard of before.
What have I done?! I’ve just claimed to be personally allied with the ruler of the entire northern continent!
No wonder everyone was giving him such wary respect so far, or why they didn’t dare disarm him. If they thought he was a personal acquaintance of their ruler, they wouldn’t dare touch him until they learned the truth.
“Me,” Hayden held up his hands to show the girl his markings, hoping that she didn’t notice the slight tremble to them as he struggled to remain calm. Even Oliver looked like he was carved from marble, remaining completely unresponsive other than the occasional blink while he processed the information.
The girl came forward and took his hands in hers, examining them even more closely than Mikesh had. Their guide still hadn’t returned from the tent, and Hayden almost hoped he’d hurry up just to distract the girl for a minute and give him a chance to regain his wits.
She pursed her lips as she failed to rub the markings off of him, snapping her fingers and holding out one hand expectantly. A sorcerer hurried forward and deposited a strange blue quill in her hand before retreating silently, and without thanking him or even acknowledging him, the girl began tracing the lines on Hayden’s left hand with the quill despite the lack of ink.
Hayden’s hand tingled with sensation, as though he had been sleeping on it oddly and lost feeling, which was now returning like a hundred pins and needles pricking at his skin. The markings changed from black to red and then back to black, and the girl ceased whatever she was doing and took a measured step backwards.
“These marks are authentic,” she sounded almost accusatory.
“I could have told you that if you’d only asked,” Hayden replied evenly, putting on his best relaxed expression.
She narrowed her eyes at him. “You can see why this is surprising to me. The Magistra has very few acquaintances of high enough esteem as to be given personal clan markings.” She held up her right hand in a fist so that Hayden could see the sigla on it. It was the same as his.
Of course I have the bad luck of running into a close personal friend of the Magistra here. There’s no way I can convince her that I know the guy if she’s close to him.
He decided that he’d had a good life these last few years at Mizzenwald, and that if it had to come to an end now, at least he had followed Oliver’s advice and not dragged Zane and Tess down here to die with him. He felt less bad about getting Oliver killed, as he really didn’t like the guy anyway.
“I happen to be well acquainted with all of the clan members, and I don’t recall any foreigners being welcomed into our rarefied circle.” She eyed Hayden skeptically.
Deciding that there was nothing to do but play this game until the end, Hayden put on his most arrogant face and said, “Well then you obviously don’t know the Magistra as well as you thought, because here I am.”
The girl gave him a funny look and then quirked her lips as though biting back a smile.
“Little boy, I am the Magistra.”
15
Breaking
Yup, we’re definitely dead, Hayden assured himself upon hearing this colossal news.
Even Oliver was too stunned to be stoic and blurted out, “What?! You’re way too young to be the Magistra!”
The girl smiled sweetly at him and said, “Thank you, dear boy, for the compliment. In fact I am seventy-five years old this winter—but I do carry it well, yes?”
Hayden thought there was no way that this girl—woman—could be seventy-five, and was about to say so when Oliver beat him to it.
“You’re lying,” he stated bluntly.
“I’m not,” she countered mildly. “Think of it as a sort of tax on my loyal subjects. They preserve me until I die and am replaced by another.” She shrugged and turned to Hayden. “I would think that as one of my personal acquaintances you might have known that and recognized me on sight.” She paused to let that sink in. “Now who are you and how did you come to bear my markings?”
The humor was gone from her face now, and Hayden decided that there was nothing to do but tell the truth at this point and hope for the best.
“I’m Hayden Frost, and I got the sigla from my father.”
The Magistra’s eyes widened slightly and she said, “Frost? Surely not from the Frost? Aleric led me to believe that he had no surviving relations.”
“I’m his son. He didn’t learn about me until a few years ago, so he wouldn’t have mentioned me at the time.”
The Magistra gave him a calculating look he wasn’t sure that he liked, before turning away and striding inside the tent without another word to them. After exchanging a glance, he and Oliver began to follow, though they hadn’t taken more than a few steps when she re-emerged carrying a fragment of copper wire.
“Hold out your hand again,” she commanded, clearly used to having her orders obeyed without question.
“Why?” Hayden asked, making no move to extend his hand.
The Magistra frowned and said, “Because I want to verify your claims. If you are truly Aleric’s son, this will tell me.” She wiggle
d the wire fragment in her hand.
Hayden sighed and held out his palm to her, and she scratched him with the end of the wire hard enough to draw blood and make him wince. She rolled the wire around in it to make sure it was good and coated with Hayden’s blood before saying, “Wait here,” and disappearing back inside of the tent.
“I don’t suppose she’s going to get me a bandage,” Hayden mumbled to Oliver, who snorted in response and handed him one from his belt. Hayden wrapped his hand while he waited for the Magistra to return.
“Do you want to tell me how you came into possession of a sigla that the Magistra gave your father before he died?” Oliver ventured onto a new topic, one that Hayden hoped he would overlook.
“Not really,” he admitted.
“The Council can’t know about it; they never would have given you a live sigla to carry around,” the older boy continued as though Hayden hadn’t spoken.
Fortunately the Magistra returned before Hayden was forced to either tell the truth or come up with a convincing lie for Oliver. She had a slightly stunned look on her face and cast an appraising eye over him like she was suddenly seeing his value.
“My, my. It seems you are indeed who you claim to be—and with a very impressive Source at that,” she greeted him.
Hayden had no idea what she had done with his blood inside the tent that might tell her who he was related to and how much Source power he had, and could only hope that she didn’t save any of his blood for worse magic later on.
“So, Hayden, tell me…” she folded her arms across her chest and leveled her gaze at him, “why haven’t I heard from Aleric in the last three years, and what does he want from me now?”
Hayden could sense Oliver tensing beside him, and he was certain he knew the cause. The Magistra doesn’t know that my father is dead. She thinks he’s still active in the Nine Lands…
He supposed it made sense, if she hadn’t left her homeland during that time. It wasn’t like they did trade with the northern continent or sent news back and forth, but he had never imagined that there were people in the world who didn’t know that the dreaded Dark Prism was gone.
Thinking quickly, he said, “My father is a busy man. If you know him at all, you know that he doesn’t make time for people unless it’s convenient for him.” He mentally ran through every letter he’d ever received from his father’s old school friends and every account he’d ever heard from Master Asher, building an image of the Dark Prism in his mind and drawing on it for inspiration.
The Magistra inclined her head in concession and said, “Very true. Still, we had been sharing our considerable magical knowledge for several years when he suddenly stopped answering my letters. I was beginning to worry that he had been eliminated by your mages.”
Hayden snorted and said, “They aren’t my mages, believe me,” as though the entire thing was ridiculous. “My father was forced to retreat for a while and regroup, but he’s getting back into action these days,” he invented wildly, knowing that his story would fall through under the slightest amount of scrutiny but simply hoping to buy himself and Oliver enough time to get out of the Forest of Illusions alive.
“Ah, then I assume he’s heard about my little campaign here and sent you as his representative?” the Magistra supplied helpfully, and Hayden seized on the idea immediately.
“That’s right. At first we heard that you didn’t have many forces and that you were being contained easily, but as time went on he realized something strange must be happening and wanted me to see if it was worth us getting involved in,” he explained in his best haughty, self-entitled-Trout tone.
“Ha!” the Magistra gave him a wicked grin. “I’ll bet the rest of these southern mages are scratching their heads trying to figure out how I managed to take control of their magical forest with only a handful of sorcerers.” She offered him her arm as though they were going to a formal dance together. “Come, and I’ll show you around my camp. Your servant can accompany us and carry your bags.” She gestured to Oliver, who she’d apparently decided was subservient to Hayden at some point.
Oliver flushed slightly at being mistaken for a servant, but other than that he covered his disdain fairly well, reaching out to take Hayden’s backpack full of weapons and carrying it in his arms as Hayden took the Magistra’s elbow and she led them back down the hill.
People snapped to attention as she passed with Hayden, bowing respectfully to their leader as they descended the slope with Oliver close behind them. The sorcerers eyed Hayden with renewed interest upon seeing how he was received by the Magistra.
“Why did you come here in person?” he asked her curiously. “In past wars between our continents, hasn’t the Magistra typically stayed behind to run things in the homeland?”
She gave him a sly smile and said, “I prefer to lead from the field. Besides, since our recent breakthrough last year I was almost positive that this campaign would succeed—in time—so there wasn’t much risk in my coming over with the advance party.”
Confused, Hayden raised an eyebrow and said, “What recent breakthrough?”
“You’ll see,” she said with that wicked grin that made his heart sink. Anything that could make his enemy that happy could only be a bad thing.
They reached the bottom of the hill and turned in the opposite direction from the one Mikesh had brought them in, walking towards the distant cages that Hayden hadn’t been able to see properly before.
There were more campfires in this direction, and they passed another one of those strange blue crystals. Hayden could see two more sprinkled throughout the camp, between cages and heaps of what looked like animal carcasses.
“You’ve probably noticed that your magic is somewhat dampened ever since you entered the boundaries of my camp,” the Magistra pointed out casually.
‘Somewhat dampened’ my rosy red cheeks, Hayden thought ruefully. It’s been nearly useless.
“Yes, Oliver and I had noticed that,” was all he said.
“That’s all thanks to these Suppressors.” She pointed to the nearest blue crystal, and Hayden eyed it with renewed interest.
“Oh?” he strained his mind to remember what he’d learned about different crystals from his lessons at Mizzenwald. “I didn’t know that there were crystals capable of dampening magic in such a wide range of area…”
“Typically there aren’t,” the Magistra agreed cheerfully, gloating in her people’s victory. “That’s where our breakthrough comes in.”
They were still walking a wide circuit around the outer paths of the encampment, and as they approached the first pile of what Hayden thought were animal pelts, he nearly stopped and vomited.
The small heap of bodies wasn’t from squirrels or other game; they were magical creatures—familiars, by the looks of some of them. Hayden’s vision went red while the shock of that sank in, and that was when he noticed several live creatures chained to posts in the ground, moaning piteously and twitching from some sort of gold pin that seemed to be tapped into their chests.
Swallowing bile, Hayden asked, “And what was your breakthrough?”
He glanced back at Oliver and saw that his companion looked similarly revolted, jaw clenched tightly and the hands gripping Hayden’s backpack curled into fists that showed his white knuckles. He only hoped the Magistra wouldn’t notice.
“You see, normally a Suppressor crystal would only work at close range—maybe a few feet at best, due to the amount of magic it consumes to maintain the barrier.”
Hayden nodded as though this was common knowledge, allowing her to lead him away from the suffering animals and deeper into the camp.
“Well, we’ve engineered a sort of magical spigot, which is the golden spike you see in our captives.” She pointed ahead of them at one of the cages they now approached. Now that they were near enough, Hayden could see that it contained an exhausted-looking mage who was slumped over against the bars, chained at the wrists so that he couldn’t remove the golden tap in his
chest.
“The spigots are linked to our Suppressors, and they allow us to siphon magic continuously off of our enemies, which feeds them the continuous magic they need to maintain such a large field of suppression. Unfortunately it limits some of our own spells as well, so we’ve had to rely more on our blood-magic and other means to get around it, but it’s been well worth the tradeoff.”
As Hayden looked around the camp at all of the cages set up with mages in them, his mouth became strangely dry and he thought he might be in danger of collapsing.
“Wow, that’s…smart,” he said lamely.
“Are you alright?” the Magistra narrowed her gaze at him. “You look pale.”
“Yeah, I’m fine…just a little overwhelmed by the simplicity of it all.”
And it certainly was simple. Of course the Magistra only needed a handful of sorcerers to take control of the Forest of Illusions. The only hard part was at the very beginning, when they had to overpower their first mages and magical creatures to tap into. After they got their four Suppressors set up, anyone who showed up to challenge them would be walking into impossible odds, not being able to use their magic and easily overpowered. Even worse, once they were captured, they would become a part of the very thing they were trying to destroy, feeding Source power to the crystals.
“Thank you,” the Magistra smirked. “I expect it’s the sort of elegance that Aleric will appreciate as well.”
“Yes, I imagine so…” Hayden trailed off, fighting to remain on his toes. It was critical that he get out of here alive so that he could warn whoever was left in the magical community not to go charging into the woods to meet their doom. “So you’ve been keeping everyone alive to drain them and make your crystals stronger?”
She shrugged and said, “Well, you know how that sort of thing goes. Most everyone is still alive, but sometimes they get too weak and die off—the same with the animals,” like it was a matter of no importance.
