Feral Magic

by Nicolette Jinks

  I shivered and pressed against his warm claw, then felt a flutter in my stomach as I spied the farmland below us like a gold, green, brown and purple patchwork quilt. Unirrigated areas surrounded the farmland in tan colors with green rivets running through it where the creeks and canals went. Some of the fields were square, but others were round, watered by pivots.

  “I spent a lot of time in irrigated fields,” I said aloud.

  Mordon swiveled his head back to look at me with large, golden eyes, as though to ask me why.

  “They’re peaceful,” I said.

  He kept looking at me. “Do you know where we are physically?”

  “Oh.” I felt silly. “Let me get a better look at the vegetation.”

  He tipped us lower, and I noticed we were in big-farm areas where there were only distant clumps of trees to denote where farm houses were. After looking at the brush and scant grasses, I told him we were in the desert north-west region.

  “I thought you knew where we were,” I said.

  “I portal-jumped, following your magic. It would have been quicker if the last portal had not ended,” Mordon said, “It must have been Eliza’s idea to throw me off your trail, that bounty hunter only knows how to take, not much ingenuity behind him...Where’s a good place to land?”

  I decided to not tell him I had been behind erasing the portal.“Away from the roads and not in any field.”

  We landed, a dive that made tears streak down my face followed by a light touch-down that included Mordon tightening his claw in reflex. Muttering an apology, he let me go. I fell flat on my face, and stayed there until I regained sensation in my legs again. Throughout this interaction with him, I tried to determine if he had linked me to the case he had been working on, or if he sensed a damsel in distress and went after me. That Unwritten shadow creature had to have sent chills down even the most staunch man’s back for three blocks around.

  “We should use the compass now,” he said, dusting off his robes.

  I frowned at him. “Why didn’t we do that to start with?”

  “When a sorcerer dies and has his spells die with him, the results can be unpredictable at best.”

  My headache was returning. “Meaning?”

  “Meaning we might have gotten where we wanted, or we more likely would have found ourselves in that house of his.”

  “Ah.”

  Mordon turned the compass over to the back and traced his finger in some invisible pattern.

  “What are you doing?”

  He didn’t take his eyes from the trinket as he spoke, “Modifications. This Earhart model was only made for one person, and I need to be certain it will withstand the energy drain for both of us.”

  “I didn’t know you were a tinkerer.”

  “I dabble.”

  “Hmm. Don’t suppose you dabble in healing?” I clutched my temples with a thumb and a forefinger, with the added benefit of shielding my eyes until the next cloud shaded out the sun.

  “Energy transfer is about my limit,” he admitted.

  Diagnosing had been mine, back in the day when I had magic—or at least when I had control over it and was not at risk of going mad. No matter how hard I had worked with Lilly on healing, I made very little gains. Likewise, I tried to teach her some fighting magic. She had learned how to push someone back from her, but that was it. I wondered where she was now, and if she could—or would—help me. I sighed, irritated and wondering where I could pick up Railey’s trail again

  I caught Mordon stealing glances at me while finishing his pattern.

  “What?” I snapped.

  “Trying to decide how far I should trust you.”

  “Meaning?”

  He gripped the compass chain and pulled, more links forming in the space between his hands, expanding the chain until it would loop over both our necks. “You fooled Barnes, but not me.”

  He had come to take me into custody, then. “I can explain.”

  Mordon crossed his arms and put his weight over his heels. “Can you?”

  And I thought about where to start—it would only make sense to go all the way back to Railey’s death, and my tongue stopped working. “No, I suppose I can’t. Just...one thing lead to another.”

  “What a reckless, thoughtless sentiment. And what do you plan to write for your article now that you’ve been drawn into our investigation? Or, is your career so much more important than your life?”

  I gaped at him with a look that frequently was mistaken for anger. He thought I was a reporter? “What drew you to that conclusion?”

  “You know that not only does Barnes have a weak spot for that restaurant, but I have a similar weakness for pretty ladies in trouble. It was fine to try to sweet talk information out of the Constable over dinner, but this? What was your plan, or were you hinging on the hopes that I would find you?” He grew more livid as he spoke, his face getting only a light blush in contrast to his biting words. His eyes blazed and shifted like flames, his pupils forming slits. Gritting his teeth, he calmed himself and said with forced softness, “You understand that I can’t let you wander now that you have been targeted by Eliza. I am taking you back to my circle. You will help me in the shop so I can keep my eyes on you.”

  “Fine,” I said with an edge I did not intend. It lent to my credibility, so I did not bother to amend my outburst. I would find a way out, possibly I would listen to Barnes for an idea what to do next.“ But I am not staying with you.”

  He raised his eyebrow at me, absentmindedly as he double-checked his modifications, “No, you’re staying near me. My circle has an open suite off the commons lounge that guests use. You won’t be the only woman, if I need to remind you.”

  “I don’t just give out my trust,” I said, my voice snappy from a growing ache in my leg.

  Mordon tried to hold back a smile, “No? Then what was that back there?”

  “Curiosity,” I said, rubbing my leg to hide the flush forming over my cheeks. In truth, I hadn’t even thought about if I should trust him or not—being the Constable’s protector lent him initial credibility that I shouldn’t have taken at face value.

  He stood gracefully, holding the compass in between us.

  “King’s Ransom Magical Antiquities, Door 921,” Mordon told it and grimaced as though he wasn’t looking forward to the journey. A dry breeze twirled around us, then left to kick up debris in a spiraling dust devil. A few clicking sounds drew my attention back to the compass.

  The dial lit up, the needle turned first right, then sprung back, whirling and spinning faster and faster until it was a blur of motion driving wind up in my face. I blinked tears back from the wind stinging my eyes, looking away as the light increased and blinded me. My clothes buffeted in a whirlwind, I pulled my arms tight against my stomach and I felt my feet lift off the dirt. We tilted this way and that, the chain digging into my neck as my body tried to drift away. Mordon’s hand found my arm and held tight; I returned his grasp. Suddenly, the light faded and the wind quit. I fell a couple inches, stifling a startled yelp. I let go of Mordon’s forearm and wiped at my eyes.

  The clink of the chain sounded as Mordon shortened it again then let it fall lightly back on my chest. “Welcome to King’s Ransom,” Mordon said with a flourishing hand, “Make yourself at home. I will go fetch you some stationary should you wish to notify someone of your well-being.”

  “Aren’t you going to take this thing?” I motioned to the compass.

  He gave me a blank look, then stroked his chin, seemed surprised when there was no beard in his hand, and looked back up to me, “No.”

  “What modifications did you make to my compass?” I fumed, taking it off and shaking it at him. If he wanted to keep an eye on me, he would either have confiscated it or done something so he could track it.

  “That is for me to know and you to find out,” Mordon said, turning away from me, “Make yourself at home. Here is some stationary. I suggest you use it before the others come home. They won’t be
as pleasant as I was about your antics.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  I found a nook in the shop to sit in relative peace, but I could not think of someone to write. Well, I could think of three someones: My mother, my father, and my brother. My brother should be in the midst of mediating between the fairies and the feys again, temperamental and flighty creatures the fairies were and if Leazar got an unexpected letter during their talks, the fairies would declare interference and resume antagonizing the feys. My parents deserved to know. I wrote them an all-too-short paragraph, signed it, and slipped it into an envelope.

  Holding out the letter, I repeated their names three times and focused on their faces. Breaking from ritual the way I always did, I took my lighter to the corner; a normal sorcerer conjures up a flame, and it does work much better. Instead of being instantly consumed by the flames and disappearing in a puff of smoke, the letter burned normally with lots of smoke from the paper laced with silk. Half-burned, I tossed the letter onto the ground and stamped it out with my foot, making me feel ridiculously like I was doing an ethnic dance in my red dress and heels. Flustered, I wished I could have changed out of these clothes before that creature decided to nab me. No wonder Mordon thought I was a prissy writer in search of fame and blind adventure. A worse thought sunk in as I stared at the singed paper at my feet.

  Perhaps I hadn’t regained my power, after all. I swallowed a lump in my throat, folding up the remains of the letter. No, the more reasonable explanation was that I was exhausted. I struggled hard against Eliza, and running out of energy was nothing to be ashamed of. Nevertheless, I could not bear the thought of seeking out Mordon to have him burn a new letter. I should not get anyone prematurely excited.

  As I walked past a suit of armor, it drew its hand over its chest and said dramatically, “Welcome and welcome, fairest lady! Many and many and many a splendid night and day did we await your arrival!”

  Jumping at first, I was left with the impression the armor wanted me to reply. “Thank you...who has been waiting for me?”

  “We, we, all of we held within these walls,” he said, motioning to the shop as a whole.

  The interior of King’s Ransom was a cross between an old plane hanger and a stripped church. Perhaps I thought it was a plane hanger because of all the windows starting midway up the wall and coating the ceiling, or perhaps it was because a wooden plane was suspended from said ceiling. Clouds and sky moved around it, giving the illusion the plane still enjoyed flights. Bookshelves lined the walls, and in the spaces too short for a shelf, bare rock wall showed through. The floor was wooden, well-oiled but not glossy and riddled with scratches. Cabinets and organizers took up most of the floorspace, but there were wandering isles and a few large, clear areas. One of these cleared areas had a sorcerer’s circle seared into it, and I would be curious to investigate it properly later. Assuming I would visit later, that is. Books, newspapers—anything printed, really—rocks, minerals, and statues appeared to be his primary interests, but the random item also helped to clutter the space.

  I could see three doorways: one seemed to go to a backroom and was largely hidden, one was a smaller side door with the words “King’s Ransom Magical Antiquities – Appointment Only” painted on the glass, and one was a grandiose door leading towards the main counter. The last door was in the shadows and I couldn’t see it well from my position near an area heavily forested with towers of books.

  Before I could talk to the armor more, the side door creaked shut with a resounding thud, then a click echoed through the hoard, followed by the grinding slide and clunk of a deadbolt. With power and time, these buildings formed their own ideas and personalities. The building did not want me to leave. I would have to ask Mordon if this was a common reaction or if his building was choosey about its occupants. By the time I looked back to the armor, it had resumed its at-ease stance and was immobile.

  It was not long before I heard the door rattle, a woman yelled at the locked shop, and the store obligingly swung open the door with a jangle of goat bells. The woman yelled for Mordon, and Mordon’s weighted feet plodded behind new, lighter ones that accompanied a woman’s scolding. I heard two more sets follow, their steps as muted as their voices. The woman’s voice blazed at Mordon, pausing only long enough to hear his one-syllable answers.

  I smiled to myself. She sounded like my old friend Lilly. Lilly, Leif, Railey, Griff, and I were constant companions and trouble makers during childhood; we split up and I hadn’t heard from them since. Mordon seemed to understand that the way to endure a woman like that was to take her anger quietly.

  “...had to hire Grog for the remainder of the day. If any other protector had left the Constable like that, they’d be in the streets within the hour...” the woman let her voice trail off, having reached the front counter where I was going to meet them. I couldn’t see them yet, but I could hear her voice slip past the bookshelves. “...let’s be clear, the only reason I’m not taking my time giving you a formal dress-down is because that Hope lady is hurt. We will talk later.”

  When she came around the shelves, she wore a diplomatic smile. Her eyes were lit with indignation, and dark auburn hair was tied in three places down her back. A gray cowl sat about her shoulders, and she took a second to remove it, hanging it on a hook. This woman sounded like my Lilly, had the same mannerisms as my Lilly, and looked like Lilly’s mother had. The neutral smile did not fade, nor did her eyes register any sort of recognition for me—and that was what had me doubting my urge to leap up and hug her. Mordon hung back, contented to lean against the front register to watch the scene unfold. Barnes sidled next to him and started a whispered conversation.

  A tall, slender man with a bald head and almost-pointy ears gave Barnes and Mordon a twitched frown. Mordon mouthed ‘later’, and the third man dropped his eyebrows in a resigned sigh, then pulled three chairs from behind the counter for me, the woman, and himself.

  The new man sat across from me, and I was struck by his magnetic blue eyes. A bolt of recognition zipped through my body, and I suddenly felt hopeful—and terrified. His eyes were the only thing unchanged, dark about the rims, bolts of crystalline blue in the center.

  That woman was Lilly, and this man was Leif, her brother. We had not talked since before the incident with Railey. Did they blame me? Did they miss me? Should I say who I was? ...then again, this was Leif, and he was possibly the only person I could never lie to. I swallowed hard and gave him a tentative smile, which he returned with the same warmth that a host uses to make his customers immediately comfortable.

  Lilly skimmed her eyes over me, but she was only looking at my various gashes and bruises, not in the least impressed that I decided to go bad-guy hunting in a day dress. “I need to get a couple things from upstairs. Be right back.”

  Leif nodded, not taking his eyes off me. His lips pursed and he squinted, as though trying to place me. A smile snuck on his lips. “Feraline, it is you.”

  “Leif, I...” I didn’t know what to say, my hands shook in surprise and excitement. I swallowed and tried again, “Leif, I’ve wanted to see you two, for, for...”

  The pat he gave my back was from his heart, “I know. It’s been too long.”

  “Wait,” said Barnes, twitching his mustache, “You said your name was Hope.”

  “Did she?” mused Leif, giving them a superior look, “It is part of her name, if memory serves. You will find you need to keep a close eye on Fera, she’s no liar, but she’s very good at avoiding the truth.”

  I had no doubt that was a dig at my mute refusal to speak of what happened with Railey. It was getting to be time to tell, I knew, but it felt wrong to speak of it until her soul was free from the Unwritten spell.

  “I take it that you know her well?” said Mordon, his voice scrutinizing.

  Leif hesitated, then cast sad eyes on me, “We used to be good friends, years ago. Such good friends, we were bound to be a circle one day. She, me, my sister, a girl called Railey, and a stray.” He met
my eyes, but I looked away before he could pry memories from me. “Called Griff.” He waited again for me to respond, but I stared at the floor. Leif continued, “One day, Griff was gone and Fera wouldn’t talk about it. The next day, Railey was dead and our friend seemed to have lost her voice altogether.”

  I slammed the burnt letter on an empty shelf between us. “That wasn’t the only thing I lost.”

  Crystalline eyes darted to the singe marks on the letter; he sighed and put his head in one hand. “Your magic. I thought the rumors were rumors.”

  “Leif,” I started and stopped.

  “It’s old news, and it is certainly no coincidence that Mordon brought you to us. I’ve learned during my short time as a judge that people will talk when they are ready for it. I know your soul well enough to know that whatever you did then, and since then, you did with the best intentions.”