The Magic, Warped

by Rick Field

The negations changed to reflect the adaptations she made to her tracker. Slowly, she saw a gap forming in the cancellations, a gap where it was less able to make the necessary changes to reflect her own adaptations, and Liane steered her spell toward the gap.

  Idly, she noted the components responsible for the gap, and possible solutions presented itself for an update of her protection spells.

  The spell slipped through the gap, and Liane's detached vision blurred as the spell found traction and started to follow Milor's presence.

  She managed to hold her tracking spell back right before it would have been negated by the second stage of the defenses. These were of a far more aggressive sort, and Liane was glad she had been able to pull back right in time. The backlash from these protections would have been more severe than the first stage protections would have been.

  Immediately, she saw the more aggressive nature of the canceling spells, and Liane took a few moments to study them. She had designed them, yet she had not had a chance to test them, and it was far different to be the spell designer, where one was in control over the defenses, or an aggressor and be caught on the other side of them.

  The broad-area cancellations employed by the second stage were more aggressive and higher powered in nature, yet they had their own weaknesses. It took Liane some work, but she managed to slip her tracker through one of the gaps in the broad-spectrum annulation, where it was just not specific enough.

  Her consciousness hurt. The broad-area protection had been too broad... but that didn't mean that she got by unscathed. It hadn't been able to stop her, but it still hurt.

  She was unaware of her physical entity wiping blood from its upper lip.

  The third stage was a reflection-based defense, and half a dozen times, she thought she had his location, only to, at the last minute, realize that she had been deflected and was scrying the location and state of a minor animal in a forest somewhere.

  Ironically, despite not trying to stop her spell and cause her pain, the last line of defense proved to be the most challenging. Liane made modification and adaptation upon modification and adaptation, before she finally felt something ply to her efforts, and allow her to slip through. By now, Milor should know that he was being tracked, if only because of the incredible drain the protections would be on him. She doubted that the hammering of the Blood Mages on the protections would have caused him much discomfort, but it was entirely possible that her own efforts to breach the defenses, more meticulous and focused, would be a huge drain on his magical reserves.

  She felt the spell complete, and her consciousness expanded to fill the entire passage of the spell. In front of her physical presence, the pen picked itself up, danced across the surveyor's map, writing down the path of the spell, the location of the target, as well as the physical, mental, and magical state of the target.

  Liane gasped for breath and opened her eyes. She felt tired. “That was almost an hour, Proctor,” Amy whispered, holding out a glass of water. Liane didn't think about where the girl got the water from, she just drank greedily to satisfy the parched throat.

  “They were mighty defenses, Assistant,” she answered, wiping at the blood from her nose. “And even then, I did not escape entirely unharmed.” She looked at the map in front of her, and paled slowly.

  Milor was at least a two day journey away. Maybe one day, if she rode a horse at top speed.

  According to the map, he was being held in a small cottage, located on a very small piece of land located in the middle of a lake. A single bridge connected the island to the shore.

  She was no Warlock and had not been trained in the arts of war, but even she could see it was an ideal defensive location.

  “Assistant,” Liane finally said. “I have never been outside of the walls of this city, but now I will need to go and find my friend. This means that I will be leaving the Academy.” Her breath hitched. She was destroying her future.

  But her friend needed help.

  She swallowed deeply. She was a Mage. Not a Master, but at least a Mage. She would be fine.

  She hoped.

  Liane tore herself away from introspection. “I must break our Proctor-Assistant bond, Assistant.”

  Amy appeared disturbed. “Why, Proctor?” she asked, angrily, the emotion bubbling through her Decorum-based neutrality.

  The Proctor looked back at the younger girl as if she were an idiot. “Because I cannot risk your life, Assistant. You must remain here. We will be too far apart for too long, and the bond will take steps to protect itself. In order to avoid those complications, we must break it.”

  “I refuse,” Amy stated, folding her arms, and lifting her head. “I am going with you, Proctor.”

  “Already I am Kiria's worst Proctor, Assistant. You have been hurt in my experiments. I refuse to compound that error. You will remain here.”

  “You taught me more than any teacher ever had. You were there for me when I was ill. You were there when I had my first duel. You were there for me whenever I needed you. You taught me, you guided me, and you protected me. I refuse to leave you now that you need me, Proctor,” the younger girl stated.

  “And yet, the choice is not yours, Assistant,” Liane said, whispering the spell to bring her bonds and oaths into visibility.

  “You would destroy my future, despite my wishes?” Amy snapped. “By breaking the bond you publicly cast me out. You state that I am not worth being an Assistant, not worth teaching, not worth your time. It is a blemish I can never live down. And you would do so despite my wishes? Have I disappointed you that much? Do you dislike me that much?”

  Liane flinched. “At least you will be alive. If you go with me, there is a big chance we will be killed.”

  Amy straightened up. “If I die, it will be because they have gone through you first, Proctor. And if I die, there would be no greater honor on my part than dying alongside you, who have treated me with kindness, and My Lord Milor, who has treated me fairly and evenly, despite me being just a lowly Assistant to his friend.”

  “You're too young to die, Assistant. I cannot be responsible-” Liane started, when Amy cut her off.

  “You are too young to die as well, Proctor. You are not even 18 yet. And still, here we are.”

  Liane's left hand twitched to the back of her right hand, where the complex figure represented her vows, oaths, and bonds. Having already broken Decorum by interrupting her Proctor, Amy reached out and grabbed Liane's left hand. “Please don't do it, Proctor. I beg of you.”

  The old girl slumped. “Fine,” she whispered harshly. “But you will do as I say, when I say. And when I tell you to run, you will run. Is that understood, Assistant?”

  Amy released the hand, and bowed deeply. “Completely, Proctor. Thank you.”

  “Get up. Nobles don't bow,” Liane said. “Come on, Assistant. We have a rescue to plan.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Liane emerged from the laboratory building, dressed in an outfit that would not stand out among the Commoners, and started crossing the courtyard. Amy, similarly dressed, was her customary half-a-step behind her Proctor's right shoulder. As they walked toward the gate, Liane threw one last look at the silver fountain.

  Magic to the Wielder took on a strange shape that inspired a wave of melancholy and longing within Liane's core, and she sighed quietly. Realization of what they were about to do washed over her.

  They were about to leave the Academy, quite likely for the last time. It would be the last time she would ever get to look at the fountain that had given her so many strange and unusual hours, as well as the greatest gift of all: the ability to predict and control her magic.

  Within her chest, Liane's magic trembled slightly, and anchored itself firmly into the element of Earth. They were doing what had to be done, and as always, it reacted to her subconscious desires. She didn't want to leave, but she had to rescue her friend, the man who had taught her more about life, friendship, Nobility, and Decorum than any other, the one person who had
taken hour upon hour to help her with casting, with dueling, with everything that he could.

  She drew a deeper breath, and shook off her bout of melancholy. Without Milor, she would not have been able to use her magic to the extent that she could do now, and she was firmly convinced that she wouldn't have been where she was today if it hadn't been for his constant tutoring during their mock duels.

  In fact, it was quite likely that she would have found herself killed during one of her duels without his tutelage.

  She owed it to him to go and save him, and the Lord Master had all but stated that this was the only course of action she could take. The Blood Mages would not welcome her discovery of his location, the insult to their honor and ability would prevent them from accepting her statements.

  They walked to the large gate, and Liane glanced at the marvelous symbols that still twinkled in all the colors of the rainbow. She had never lost her wonder for them.

  At first, she had loved them for their beautiful colors and their soothing rhythm. Then, she had started to study Runes, Glyphs, and Magical Symbols so Liane had started to understand what they meant, and she had become fascinated by the way they had been strung together in paragraphs of runic descriptions that far surpassed her own ability.

  The more she studied them, the more she realized the genius that had gone into the construction of them.

  Her hand came up by itself, and touched the stone. She would never see the symbols again, either. Even though she now understood them, knew what each and every symbol meant, and that they were as familiar to her as old friends, she would still miss having the opportunity to come down here and just stare at them.

  The runes and glyphs pulsed strangely at her touch, and turned completely black before springing back to life. For a moment, it felt as if the school's magic had wished her a good journey.

  “This is it, Assistant,” she told the younger girl waiting patiently. “Your last chance.”

  “I go where you go, Proctor,” she replied calmly, picking up the small pack she had placed on the ground. It contained some books, including an atlas, some clothes, and other essentials.

  Liane sighed and nodded. “Very well. Let's see where we can get the best transport.”

  “A cart will be slow, Proctor,” Amy suggested helpfully. “A floater might be best, if we could find one. They're usually made to order, and I don't think they are available for hire.”

  “I have never ridden a horse before,” Liane admitted finally. “This will be a baptism by fire.”

  “Perhaps a cart would be better anyway, Proctor. If you have never ridden before, it is unlikely that you will be able to ride the distance,” Amy said. Liane gave a tiny frown, and was about to object, when Amy pressed on, "My Lord Milor has been missing for over a week. He is not injured, so he probably is not in any immediate danger.”

  Liane had to admit that the urgency wasn't as high as her heart kept telling her it was. Reluctantly, she conceded the point.

  In silence, the two mages walked down the main boulevard, leaving the Upper City and walking to the outskirts of the Lower City. Having lived her entire life within the city, Liane knew every corner, every nook and cranny, every smell and sight within its limits. Her feet found their way on their own, leaving her to think and worry about the situation.

  Her thoughts jerked back to the there and then when they arrived at the stables located just inside the city limits. The City didn't really have walls, and the buildings spread lazily outward the further away from the center one got. The stables used to be located well outside the city proper, but sprawl and growth had now placed it firmly amid the inns, taverns, butchers and bakers.

  Despite her knowledge of magic, and Milor's training in Nobility and Decorum, Liane knew next to nothing about life outside of the Academy walls, a few vague memories of her favorite hunting and fishing spots from her early youth at the orphanage notwithstanding.

  As they entered the stables, Liane looked at Amy. “You may hire us a carriage, Assistant.”

  Amy looked up at Liane, recognizing the subterfuge, and played along. “Yes, Proctor,” she whispered with marked reluctance. She shuffled over to the stable master. Despite them being dressed as Commoners, the stable master recognized a pair of Nobles when he saw them, and treated them with utmost respect.

  Liane acted as if she knew everything there was to know about horses and carriages while Amy and the stable master discussed horses and carriages. Her involvement limited itself to paying for the use of a fast carriage and a pair of strong, fast horses for one week.

  As they left, the Proctor turned to her Assistant. “You have done well, Assistant. Since you seem to be an expert in horses and carriages, you may also drive us.”

  From the corner of her eye, Liane saw the stable master grin and shake his head. Liane resisted the urge to give a deep, relaxing breath. Her subterfuge had worked, and the man now thought her to be a Noble who was punishing her Assistant for saying something improper.

  The carriage was small, could hold four people in a two-by-two configuration, where the two in front could drive the horses and the two in the back could stare at the backs of those in front. There was no roof, so Liane hoped there would be no rain during their adventure, and sat down on the left hand side of the front seat. Her Assistant placed the pack on the back seat, and went to ready the horses.

  Amy harnessed the horses, and finally climbed on as well. The young Assistant appeared to have a lot of experience with this sort of situation, but the Rules of Equality forbade Liane from satisfying her curiosity and asking about it.

  The cart set in motion with a sharp snap of the leads, and Liane dug for the atlas in the pack. Apart from the surrounding forests during her poaching days as a starving orphan, she had never left the limits of the city. She gave Amy instructions on which direction to take, then looked back as the city slowly started to be left behind. A sharp tug accompanied the increase in speed when Amy spurred the horses on.

  To her left, the Emperor's forests filled her view, and Liane thought back to the days she used to play, scavenge, hunt, and fish in those very same woods. She wondered how the other orphans were doing, whether Yari had been allowed into the trade school he had always wanted, or whether little Inai had been adopted at some point. She thought of stumbling Fema, and whether or not the poor girl was still tripping over her feet, and of pale and skinny Momi, whether he had finally found enough food to put some meat on his bones.

  She resisted the urge to sigh at long-forgotten thoughts and memories evoked by the forest passing her by.

  She was the lucky one. She had gotten out. They weren't her brothers and sisters any longer, and they had made that fact clear when she foolishly returned to talk to them.

  She should have known better. The rules among the orphans were clear. If you got out, you stayed out, you didn't return to rub your good fortune in the faces of everyone else. She had forgotten the rules, she had tried to come back and talk to them, those boys and girls that were her brothers and sisters, and she shouldn't have. She really should have known better.

  Even now, the manner in which they had parted ways still stung. She looked over her shoulder to her right, to the sprawling fields and meadows that grew grain and grazed animals to feed the capital, set on ignoring the forest with its painful memories. There was no outer wall protecting the Lower City, and the habitation sprawled out like a patchwork cloth. There was no need for city defenses, no hostile army had set foot on Kiria since the Imperial Line had been established. Part in thanks to the Nobility's magical strength, peace had reigned over Kiria for almost 700 years.

  Amy remained quiet as they made their way forward, and did her best to ignore the look of sadness that was on Liane's face. Decorum didn't allow large displays of emotion, and any such displays were to be ignored.

  It took almost four hours of travel before the landscape had changed enough to stop triggering memories in Liane's mind, and she could finally relax and star
t to enjoy the travel. The hour had long since passed mid day, and the sun bore down on them from above.

  “Proctor? Did you pack anything to drink?” Amy asked. Realizing that she, too, was quite thirsty, Liane reached for the pack, then frowned, realizing something. Years of easy living had made her accustomed to easy access to food and drink. Her hand dropped away from the pack.

  “No, I haven't, Assistant,” she admitted. “We should get some juice and water at the next inn.” She felt annoyed at herself for forgetting. She had been so sure she had thought of everything they would need: change of clothes, books, the atlas.

  Amy seemed to accept that, and they travelled in companionable silence for the next five minutes. “Proctor?”

  “Assistant?”

  “Did you pack any food?” the girl asked.

  Liane shook her head, now more angry than annoyed at herself for forgetting the basic necessities of life. The easy living at the Academy had made her used to easy access to them, and she'd forgotten all of the lessons taught to her by her hard childhood. “I did not, Assistant,” she admitted, biting down on the annoyance she felt at herself for failing, and at her Assistant for bringing the failure up again.

  Amy frowned slightly, but nodded anyway. “I'm quite hungry, Proctor.”

  “I know, Assistant. We'll get some food at the next inn,” she answered. She was hungry and thirsty, too.

  The silence seemed rather strained to Liane, with her young Assistant frowning slightly.

  “I'm sorry, Assistant,” she told the younger girl. “I should have thought of food and drink.”

  Amy just nodded, and kept focusing on the driving. Re-taking the atlas, Liane scanned the route ahead. “We should come across an inn within forty-five minutes to an hour, Assistant.”

  “Very well, Proctor,” Amy replied.

  They lapsed into silence, one that was even tighter than before.

  The Emperor's forest on her left was coming to an end, and Liane welcomed the change that would soon be upon them. The sooner they were at that inn, the sooner she would be able to correct her mistake. Amy never was good at handling hunger and thirst, and she wanted to make sure that her Assistant's bad mood passed as soon as possible. It was not enjoyable at all to travel with her when she was angry and pouting.