The Magic, Warped

by Rick Field

  Words had power.

  And Liane was angry.

  The swords bent and shaped, flowing together, forming a larger weapon. Her spell completed, Liane took a hurried look at the house, which remained quiet still. So far, their escape had been unnoticed, but she was sure it would not stay that way for long.

  She needed to be quick about this. Her usual spells wouldn't engrave fast enough; she needed something faster. Whispering her spells, she focused every enchantment she had thought up on the way over onto the sword, shrinking them down using the same methods she had developed for the cube-anchor.

  The blade of the single combined sword glowed red, and changed its shape once more. Rather than engrave the runes onto the sword, she would change the shape of the sword to include the runes she wanted. The world turned dark around her while Liane's mind worked, judging, deciding, building the very shape of the blade to include the exact measure of the runes she wanted it to contain.

  For just a moment, her magic started slipping out of her control, but she soon grabbed it back, refusing to admit either defeat or failure. She was here to get Milor out, and that was what she would do.

  The last word spilled across her lips, and the world rushed back to her senses, a pounding headache accompanying it. She wiped at her nose, staring at the blood in confusion. When had she started bleeding from her nose? Quivering, she held the large sword out to Milor.

  He stared at her with part dismay and part awe. “That's a permanent enchantment,” she told him, surprised at how weak her voice sounded.

  “Thank you, My Lady,” he said, the dismay in his voice vanishing. “I am honored to receive the first blade made by a Master of the craft.” Closing his eyes, he connected himself to the blade, grunting loudly at the pain it invoked. “It is incredibly powerful, My Lady. It hurt worse than I thought it would,” he commented.

  “It holds every enchantment I could think of, My Lord. Stick it through the barrier. The sword will not allow any magic except your own to touch it. It will not grow dull, it will not tarnish, it will not stain, it will dispel magic, and it will work as a focus for your magic. As long as you are alive, it will be there to help you.”

  He blinked, stared at her, then nodded, as if not knowing what to say. With a sharp jerk, he turned around and struck the weapon out. It clattered against the magical line drawn across Liane's magical senses, and Milor grunted in surprise when the sword struck sparks as if from a wall.

  Drawing a breath, he took a stance, and stabbed, rather than offer a mere swing of the blade. The sharp explosion of light made Liane jerk her head to one side, closing her eyes against the release of the magical manifestation. “My Lady?”

  “It's gone, My Lord,” Liane confirmed, tears streaking down her cheeks. “It was very bright, I am still seeing spots.”

  He nodded, and started running. Amy bowed to Liane, startling the Proctor, then set out in a quick jogging motion behind Milor. She brought up the rear once more, feeling her chest hurt with the heaving breaths she was forced to take. She couldn't remember where she got so tired from.

  Amy spoke quietly to Milor, guiding him to where they had left the horse and cart. It took them only a few minutes to reach the site, where Amy and Liane were forced to look in dismay at the fact that the kidnappers had burnt the cart. Who knows what they had done to the poor horses than had gotten them here.

  “We need to reach Sevenoaks to get a new cart,” Liane muttered. “The quickest way is through the Forest of Philip.”

  “The haunted Forest of Philip, My Lady?” Milor asked, lifting an eyebrow.

  “I will take a supposed haunting over men with swords, My Lord. Haunts and curses I can break. On the other hand, I do not look forward to employing my magic against a man who cannot defend against it,” Liane replied.

  Milor thought for a few seconds, before looking back in the direction they had come from. He gave a sharp nod. “Very well, through the forest it is, My Lady.”

  As they hurried into the shelter of the trees, the sound of running feet made them look in the direction of the island they had just left. Liane could feel Milor ready himself, his grip on his new sword tightening.

  Three more guards were racing after them, with Yari in the lead. Liane lifted an arm in front of Milor to prevent him from charging their pursuers, and flicked her left hand. A single incantation created a waist-high wall of solid flame.

  Yari immediately stopped and stared, his gaze flashing from the silent flames to Liane, and back to the flames. “You are an idiot, Yari. One does not lose magic, nor is one removed from Nobility. I am, and always have been, a Noble Mage of the Empire of Kiria.”

  He grew pale, knowing exactly what she was saying and why. His taunts and threats at her had earned him more than enough punishment. Finally, he looked at the two others. “Them three's Nobles. We canna take 'em. Ya saw wut they did back atta house.”

  The other two swordsmen just nodded mutely, glaring across the fiery boundary at the three escapees. Liane just gave them a nod, turned, and walked straight toward the forest, its edge beckoning.

  Despite the uninviting nature of the trees, Liane still felt better the moment they had crossed into the forest proper and the thick woods shielded them from view. “My apologies for stopping you, My Lord. I did not wish for more deaths today,” Liane finally said.

  “I understand, My Lady. Although death is to be expected, one should always attempt to resolve the situation without bloodshed. It is a lesson I sometimes forget,” he replied easily. “Let us hurry. I wish to be back at the capital as soon as possible.”

  They moved in silence for a few minutes. Skills learned in early childhood were not easily lost, and within minutes Liane was walking through the forest as if she had been doing it all her life. Using very little energy, her feet always landed at their ideal location to maintain balance, to get underneath a low branch or get around a fallen tree, or evade holes and pits in the ground.

  Milor was behind her, simply powering through, using his advantage in muscle and physical conditioning to keep up. Amy was at the rear, shooting furtive glances over her shoulder. The younger girl was soon panting as she scrambled to keep up.

  “Somehow, I find this too easy,” Liane commented. “There were only Commoners at the house, and yet you were kidnapped and imprisoned there, My Lord.”

  She could not see Milor nod, but imagined him doing so. “My... kidnapper... employs Warlocks, My Lady. They jumped me after an exercise outside the city limits. Unfortunately, this time, I did not have one of the Academy's most fearsome Mages to cover my back. I received a spell from behind, which rendered me unconscious. By the time I woke up, I was in the position you found me. It appears we were lucky in timing our escape, none of the Warlocks appear to have been present at the house. I do think that they will pursue us the moment they hear of our escape, however.”

  Liane nodded, accepting the explanation. She focused on navigating; it had been quite a while since she had been in any woods, and the Forest of Philip was totally unknown to her. The atlas and all the equipment she had brought had been destroyed along with the cart, so she could not even double-check her memory.

  Hoping that she had set the correct course, Liane kept using the old tricks she had mastered as a child to ensure that they walked in as straight a line as possible. It was so very easy to get turned around in the woods, and Liane was determined not to fail this latest test. Their lives may depend on it, and Liane drew a deep breath when the weight of the realization of what had happened settled on her shoulders.

  She had been kidnapped. Her assistant had been kidnapped. Their captors had threatened to kill them.

  She had killed one of them. She, Liane, had killed a man who had held no magic, no defense, against the weapon she had launched at him. Despite his armor and sword, he had been unarmed against what she had done.

  For a moment, her pace faltered, and she leaned against a tree. Liane felt sick. A kind of sickness she hadn't felt s
ince the first time she had taken a life. At least her old nemesis, Florindra, had been a fellow Mage, had been able to defend herself, and had seen her coming. They had engaged in an honorable duel.

  Where was the honor in burning down a Commoner who didn't even see you coming? True, he was swinging a sword at Milor. She had protected her friend. But she hadn't needed to kill the man... did she?

  “My Lady?” Milor asked, concerned. Amy followed a few seconds behind, panting deeply.

  She shook her head. “I am feeling rather ill at the thought of killing a man who was unarmed against magic, My Lord,” she whispered, looking at him. “My mind realizes that he was attacking you, yet my heart questions the kill-strike. Why did I not resort to non-lethal spells, but opted instead to burn the man down?”

  Milor nodded in understanding. “Nobles are conditioned, My Lady. Those that engage in dueling are trained, conditioned, to go for the kill. When confronted by a situation that requires force, they will opt to kill rather than disable, just as one would in a duel. One does not maim or cripple, it is dishonorable. One kills. That is the nature of things.”

  Liane swallowed the acid bile at the back of her throat. “Again, my mind realizes the truth of your statement, My Lord.”

  “It is hard to deal with one's first kill, My Lady. And despite your dueling experience, and the small experience in which you previously saved me, you have never confronted a Commoner before.” He looked around. “Let us make haste, and we can discuss this subject further once we reach safety.”

  She took the opportunity to steal a glance at his arm, check his sword wound. Most of it seemed to be crusted over, but it still bled slightly from where his arm movements kept the wound from closing properly. “We will also need to treat your wound, My Lord.”

  He glanced at it, then nodded curtly. “Let us make haste, My Lady.”

  Amy was still panting, yet bravely nodded as well. Milor glanced at her. “You are exhausted, Assistant. You are not used to running in the woods. Please forgive the liberties I am about to take.”

  Liane frowned, not liking the sound of that. Friend or no friend, if Milor touched her Assistant... her angry thought trailed off as her friend turned around, lowered himself, and deftly took the smaller girl on his back. Straightening out, he gave a curt nod to Liane, indicating that he would be following her.

  The Proctor looked at her Assistant, and saw the girl flushing bright red. Smiling slightly, she returned Milor's nod, and resumed her pace through the woods, having thankfully remembered to set her direction before stopping and getting turned around during the conversation.

  They travelled in what Liane hoped was a straight line for close to an hour before she became aware of a strange reaction in her Occluding necklace. Ever since she had been wearing it, the necklace had been a comforting weight around her neck, a cool presence against her chest. Now, however, it felt heavy and warm. Not uncomfortably so; but a rather noticeable change regardless.

  Milor had pulled up, and was now marching at her side rather than behind her. Amy was still on his back, looking absolutely exhausted from lack of food and emotional stress. “Assistant?” Liane asked, trying to hide the fact that the quick march was tapping her reserves.

  “Proctor,” Amy replied. She held out her right hand, showing the ring that was her counterpart to Liane's necklace. “I feel it too.”

  “What is wrong, My Lady?” Milor asked, before frowning. “Did you see that as well?”

  “I did not see anything out of the ordinary, My Lord. Both my Assistant and I, however, feel our occluding items growing warm and heavy.”

  Milor frowned, and pulled closer to Liane. “I could swear to the fact that those trees are moving, My Lady,” he said, uncertainly.

  Liane looked in the direction Milor was looking, and saw nothing but trees. Ancient, gnarled, young, strong, straight, broken, dead, all the kinds of trees one would expect in a forest. “I see nothing but ordinary trees, My Lord. Perhaps the protections on the forest are already trying to infiltrate your mind.”

  Milor swallowed deeply. “I will focus on our task, My Lady,” he whispered harshly, trying to convince himself as much as he was trying to convince her. “Please indulge me if I stare uncomfortably at you.”

  She dipped her head. “Of course, My Lord. Do as you must. I am uncomfortably aware of my lack of Decorum when I woke up in captivity to find you half undressed.”

  He seemed relieved at that. He opened his mouth to make a remark, then reconsidered. Liane was about to ask him what he had meant to say when they emerged into a large clearing. The last rays of the sun were throwing long shadows, and Liane looked at the ancient stone building that dominated the center clearing of the woods.

  “Perhaps it would be best to take shelter at the castle, My Lord. Although old, it will at least keep us out of the wind, and we may be able to find a functioning hearth that will allow us to build a fire. My Assistant can cook.”

  Amy nodded, relieved and happy at the prospect of finally being useful. Milor let her down as they entered the clearing, and she followed the sedate pace that Liane and Milor set as they crossed to the imposing building. The clearing appeared to be natural, judging from the fact that it was still there after hundreds of years of neglect.

  Even though there were no trees, the clearing was not empty. It was filled with grass that came up to their knees, and shrubs that came even higher. Pushing their way through had been harder work than any one of them had anticipated.

  “My Lady, I am seeing a large palace,” Milor said as they approached.

  “Unfortunately, it is a large stone castle that is built in the style of the ancient Templars. Its inner walls appear intact, although age is showing wear and tear. Moss has grown in the cracks, the moat is a mere depression rather than a real moat, and one of the outer defensive walls has collapsed completely. From what I can see here, the portcullis is more or less intact, although the drawbridge is gone.”

  Milor simply nodded. “My mind is completely compromised, My Lady. I do not believe I will be of any assistance to you.”

  “I suggest we do only a minor inspection of the castle itself, before retiring to the main hall. I will leave you with my Assistant, who will be able to create fire and do minor repairs on furniture. Meanwhile, I will summon wood and food from the forest. While my Assistant cooks, I will attempt to disable the defenses completely.”

  He simply dipped his head to indicate his acceptance of her plan, and they made their way slowly to the entrance gate.

  “I only see a smooth wall here, My Lady,” Milor offered as he stared curiously straight ahead. Liane frowned, and studied the portcullis.

  “The portcullis is down and protected from magic, My Lord. And although the grate itself appears to be intact, the mechanism for lifting it appears to have rotted away over the centuries. I may be able to break through the protection on the metal grate, but the amount of magic it would take me to do so would be substantial. I am curious, where do you see the entrance to the palace you see?”

  Milor pointed. “Around that side was a gate, My Lady.”

  “That is where the wall has collapsed,” Liane stated. “It appears the defenses realize that one can no longer enter through here and has adapted to use the collapsed wall to draw potential victims inside.”

  “It would appear so,” Milor acknowledged, taking the lead as they rounded the castle's depression that used to be a moat. Finally, they arrived at the collapsed part of the wall, where its stone had fallen and created a pile of rubble that spanned both the moat and its own remains. “There is a staircase leading to a gate, My Lady. The gate is open.”

  Liane smiled faintly. “There is, in fact, a pile of rubble that leads us across the moat and the remaining wall, My Lord,” she told him as they started to clamber over the piles of stones. Amy followed her just as awkwardly, yet Milor appeared to be merely taking steps on a staircase.

  They arrived at the inner courtyard without further trou
ble, and Liane crossed the knee-high grass that had grown on 500 years of collected soil now covering the once stone courtyard. “The fortified structure itself appears to be intact,” she said. “Apart from that one tower that has collapsed,” she finished, pointing to a pile of rubble.

  Milor made no comment and just kept close to her, knowing that his senses were being influenced ever further. Putting her shoulder against the half-rotten door of the inner castle, Liane opened the entrance. The sun had descended over the tree line and the interior of the castle was uncomfortably dark and dank.

  A whispered incantation produced a sphere of red light that illuminated the large entry hall. “The red light shouldn't draw attention to us, My Lord,” Liane said in equal parts explanation and reassurance. She wasn't even sure who she was trying to reassure, herself or Milor.

  Despite her necklace's protection, she felt ill at ease in the building, and she hoped that her dismantling of the protections would alleviate the feeling.

  Or perhaps it had nothing to do with magical defenses, and more to do with the fact that they were entering a 500 year old castle that had not been maintained in all that time. Slowly, they crossed the entrance hall, Milor looking around with wonder on his face. “Marble and light and golden chandeliers,” he listed. “This place is opulent in every sense of the word.”

  “It's cold, dank, dark, and falling apart, My Lord. I envy you the illusion,” Liane replied with a faint smile to her voice. Having crossed the cavernous hall, Liane had to put her shoulder against yet another closed door, hoping that it would lead to the living hall that was their ultimate goal. The building appeared deserted save for whatever wildlife had found shelter inside, yet the unsettling nervous feeling that had turned her blood to ice would not go away.

  Breathing a sigh of relief at the sight of the empty and abandoned living hall, Liane dipped her head to Amy. “This is the living hall, My Lord. My Assistant will conjure some fire to start warming it up and drive away the dank and the moisture. I will return with proper firewood and something to eat shortly.”