Destroying Magic

by David Meyer

  “After you cast your first Chaotic spell, we’ll test it a few times to see what it does. If it’s useful, you can keep practicing it. If not, we’ll move on. Okay?”

  I nodded. “Okay.”

  He kept scratching. His face twisted, stricken between contemplation and frustration. “The problem, as I see it, is Instinctia. You enter it every time you try to cast a spell, right?”

  “Of course.” I shrugged. “But you knew that already.”

  “Do I?”

  I gawked at him. “Are you saying you’ve never experienced Instinctia?”

  He shrugged. “I never figured it out. I’ve been faking it all along, using my Chaotic magic to mimic your spells.”

  I blinked, still shocked. “That sounds hard.”

  “Oh, it was. Incredibly hard.” He itched some more. “What’s Instinctia like, anyway?”

  “It’s warm and comforting.” I furrowed my brow, trying to figure out how to put it into words. “Like I’ve just come home for Christmas.”

  “So, it feels amazing?” he asked.

  “You could say that.”

  “Ahh, that makes sense. Why else would you guys agree to it?”

  “Agree to what?”

  “Giving up control.”

  I blinked. I’d never thought of it that way. But wow, he had a pretty good point. The freakiest part about magic was losing control of oneself. Instinctia made that bearable, if not downright enjoyable.

  “Chaotic magic is natural,” he continued. “But Structuralism is anything but natural. It’s someone else’s emotions, someone else’s spells. Even worse, it requires you to give up self-control, to let it take over. That’s a tall order. Maybe the only reason you go for it is because Instinctia feels so utterly amazing. Maybe that Xavier guy made it that way on purpose.”

  I nodded. He was absolutely right. Chaotic magic probably felt pretty great. In order to compete, Structuralist magic—specifically, Instinctia—had to feel just as good, if not better.

  “Have you ever rejected it?” he asked.

  “Rejected it?”

  “There’s a moment where you cede control, right? Where you turn yourself over to the Capsudra’s whims? Have you ever denied that?”

  I shook my head. “I’m not sure that’s even possible.”

  “Oh, it’s possible. It has to be. You know why? Because you’ve got free will. We all do.” He scratched his shoulder so hard I thought he’d draw blood. “You were trained to accept Instinctia. Now, you have to learn to deny it.”

  He made it sound easy. But I wasn’t so sure.

  Stooping down, he picked up a very old bust from the floor. It depicted a young man with scars on both cheeks.

  Gently, he set the bust down on a table. “Let your mind go,” he instructed. “And wave your wand.”

  I arched an eyebrow.

  “Instinctia will kick in no matter what you do, right? So, just feel your emotions and wave that wand anyway you like. As soon as Instinctia starts to take over, deny it.”

  My eyebrow arched all the way to the top of my head.

  He shrugged. “Who knows? Maybe it’ll be easier than you think.”

  I wasn’t used to feeling my own emotions, let alone waving my wand in haphazard fashion. Things just weren’t done that way. So instead, I recalled what I’d learned about Elertfa Lokwhan. My emotions started to whirl. My wand sliced through the dust-clogged air. Instinctia reached out for me and I accepted it without question.

  “Shumbla Dant,” I said.

  Auburn light raced out of my wand. It hit the bust and engulfed it, before blinking out.

  Frowning, I lowered my wand. I hadn’t even attempted to deny Instinctia. It just took over and next thing I knew, I was casting the spell. The wrong spell, as it turned out. Great, just great. Now, I was teaching statues how to speedread.

  “Well?” he asked.

  I shook my head.

  “Try again.”

  And so, I tried again. Quickly, I entered Instinctia. And a few moments after that, I did the stupid speedreading spell all over again.

  Tad cocked his head.

  “It’s not working,” I complained.

  “It will. Try again.”

  I shifted my emotions. My wand went to work. Instinctia took over and I fired off the wrong spell for a third time.

  Tad saw the defeated look in my eyes. “Again.”

  I tried again. And again. And yet again. Eventually, he took over, casting Chaotic spells so I could see his process. I watched him carefully, then tried again.

  And again. And yet again.

  Chapter 25

  The kid, awkwardly hanging around the Mid-Torso bridge, stuck out in almost every conceivable way.

  For one thing, he wore a close-fitting tunic, belted with a steel blue sash. The garment, soiled and covered with sweat-stains, smelled faintly of body odor. Meanwhile, the other kids in the area, all students, wore typical Madkey casual attire. Slacks, polo shirts, and loafers for the boys. Colorful skirts, blouses, and closed-toe heels for the girls.

  For another thing, the kid was ratty. Ratty and old. His skin was a ghostly white. His hair, thick, tangled, and black, looked like it hadn’t been combed in weeks. A makeshift sling, made of torn fabric, supported his right arm. He was too old to be in a class, yet too young to teach one. Contrasted with dozens of well-scrubbed students, he looked totally out of place.

  I halted partway across the bridge. My eyes traced his thin face and bony body. His image was burnt into my brain and I recognized him immediately.

  It was Ivan Gully.

  Seeing him there, just a few feet from Madkey Station Grille, shouldn’t have surprised me. After all, that’s where he’d first appeared. Plus, I’d overheard Galison say that they’d starved Ivan in order to soften him up. So, it made sense that he’d want some food.

  But surprise me it did and for a couple of long moments, all I could do was gawk in his general direction. Thinking hard, I considered my next move. On one hand, I could report him. Heck, I could produce my wand and attempt to arrest him. On the other hand, I could just leave him alone. I could go about my day, pretending I hadn’t seen anything.

  Unable to make up my mind, I stood there, staring at him. Watching him as he licked his lips. Watching him as he stared longingly at the plates of food emerging from the wall chutes. He looked pretty harmless to me, especially with that sling on his arm. I didn’t see a wand on him, either.

  Students began to notice him. Slowly at first, but news of his presence quickly spread. Nervous students raced their chairs to the outer edges of Torso, trying to get as far away as possible. A few of the braver ones headed across the bridges, intending to alert the alumni. The bravest of all, Kell and some of his buddies, rode chairs out to greet the intruder.

  “Chaotic scum.” Kell spat at Ivan’s feet. “Back for another round, eh?”

  “Please.” Ivan’s voice cracked softly in the air. “I need … food … water …”

  “Forget it.” Growling, Kell raised his wand, moving it in the prescribed manner. “Elertfa Lokwhan.”

  To everyone’s surprise, including my own, Ivan dodged the spell. With a soft grunt, he leapt out into the open. A chair rushed to grab him. But before it could arrive, Ivan slammed into Kell. The ramball star managed to stand his ground. But he was caught off guard nonetheless and Ivan was able to filch his wand.

  Leaping onto the just-arriving chair, Ivan rode out into the middle of the ancient station. Alumni appeared from all corners of Torso, targeting Ivan, bombarding him with havoc magic spells. Ducking and weaving, he managed to steer clear long enough to embed himself amidst a group of terrified freshmen.

  The alumni began racing about the bridges, checking the angles, trying to figure out how to sneak a spell through the group. Meanwhile, despite his ailments, Ivan began to fire attacks of his own. Kids screamed as he whirled amongst the frozen freshmen, his wand dancing in his fingertips. Strange curses and spells roared throu
gh the air. One spell hit Chez Skalant and he immediately sprouted long ears and a tail. Fur appeared as his body took on the shape of a donkey. Another one hit Kylie Davis and her limbs began to spaz in uncontrollable fashion.

  I watched it all, frozen in place, consumed by awe and fear. A part of me wanted to reach for my wand, to cast a spell, to put an end to Ivan’s reign of terror. Another part of me realized that I couldn’t actually remember the havoc magic spells. Heck, I barely remembered my own name.

  A cyan streak zoomed through Torso, threading a thin gap between two of the freshmen. Ivan managed to avoid it, but not by much.

  “This is your last chance, Mr. Gully.” Boltstar emerged from his quarters, wielding his wand in a firm, well-practiced manner. “Surrender. Now.”

  The Chaotic’s confidence melted away, replaced by a most primal dread. He urged his chair toward the ceiling at a high rate of speed, leaving the freshmen cowering in his wake.

  Boltstar fired another spell. It slammed into Ivan’s back. The force knocked him clear off of his chair and he started to fall. The chair raced around and grabbed him up again. Then it hovered in mid-air, the unconscious Chaotic draped across its wooden seat.

  Hard-faced alumni hopped onto chairs and rode them out into Madkey Station Grille. A few tended to the injured students. But most of the witches and wizards converged upon Ivan and soon, I couldn’t even see him.

  Quietly, students hurried to vacate the area. Rising to my tiptoes, I tried to catch another glimpse of Ivan. But the alumni were still packed tightly around him. Besides, it was difficult to see much of anything with so many students in the way.

  They filed past me as if in a daze, alarm and shock etched deeply upon their visages. Once again, the Chaotic threat had reared its ugly head.

  And once again, Madkey had seemed almost powerless to stop it.

  Chapter 26

  “I hope everything’s okay.” From our perch in the bleachers, Piper scanned the sunken locker room area. “It’s not like Boltstar to be late.”

  “I bet he’s still dealing with that Chaotic kid,” Leandra remarked.

  “You’re probably right. But still …”

  As she trailed off, I checked the enchanted clock hanging on the far wall. It was seven minutes after six o’clock. Indeed, the headmaster was late. Then again, he was the greatest magician of all time. As far as I was concerned, he’d earned the right to be tardy once in a while.

  A yawn escaped my lips. For the last week, Tad and I had worked every night. I’d cast thousands of spells—maybe even tens of thousands of spells—over that period. And yet, I still hadn’t come close to breaking Instinctia.

  “I didn’t see you last night,” Piper said, changing the subject. “What time did you get to bed?”

  “I don’t know,” I replied. “Midnight?”

  “What were you doing?”

  “Practicing.”

  “Really?”

  “Really.”

  I didn’t feel comfortable lying to her. Then again, it wasn’t a lie. I’d been practicing alright, just not in the way she thought.

  Gently, I scratched my chest. My ribs were nearly healed. All that remained was a bit of light itching. But even that was enough to drive me batty.

  “How about you guys?” I asked.

  “I stayed up until eleven,” Piper said. “I would’ve liked more sleep, but I had to finish the reading assignment.”

  Leandra looked up just long enough to chuckle. “Finish it? You told me you read it twice.”

  “Well, how else am I supposed to remember it?” she replied, defensively.

  “It’s just busy work.”

  “Tell that to the kids who got cursed today.”

  “If you think reading a book will help you do havoc magic, then you’ve truly lost it.”

  “It’s not just that.” Piper frowned. “This is our big chance, Leandra. Randy sees that. Why can’t you?”

  “Hang on a second,” I said. “What do you mean this is our big chance?”

  “This class is our path back into Madkey,” she replied. “You know that. That’s why you’re practicing so much.”

  “That’s not why I’m practicing.”

  She frowned. “It’s not?”

  “I’m practicing because I’m sick of losing,” I told her. “Just once, I’d like to put Porter and the others on their backs.”

  “Now, that’s a cause I can get behind,” Leandra said.

  Piper stared deep into my eyes. “What’s up with you?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You’ve been acting really weird lately.”

  I had good reason to be acting weird, but I wasn’t ready to tell her about it. So, I sought around for an alternative explanation. “My parents want me out of here,” I replied at last. “They’re threatening to enroll me at YuckYuck.”

  Piper’s face turned sorrowful. “You can’t leave. It won’t be the same without you.”

  Despite my revelation, Leandra remained quiet, her attention focused on her lap. A quick glimpse revealed a sizable mirror resting upon her legs. It looked a little like a memory mirror. However, the remembra was rather warped compared to that of a normal memory mirror.

  “What’s that?” I asked, eager to change the subject to something else.

  “A simulator mirror,” she replied.

  I stifled another yawn. I’d only gotten a few hours of sleep before I had to wake up for my shift. So, I was pretty exhausted. “A what?” I asked.

  “A simulator mirror. It’s like a memory mirror, but, you know, different.”

  I arched an eyebrow. “Okay …”

  She sighed, then looked up. “A normal memory mirror takes possession of a memory, capturing all relevant sensory information. Then it replays the memory upon eye contact. The effect is to make the watcher feel as if she’s seeing the memory in real-time.”

  “I know how they work,” I said impatiently.

  “Awhile back, I had an idea. What if the watcher didn’t just observe the memory? What if she was able to participate in it?”

  Piper arched an eyebrow. “Come again?”

  “You know how memory mirrors can be tricked into accepting false memories?”

  I recalled her memory mirror back in the dorm. The one that showed Tad getting a doughcream surprise.

  “Of course,” I replied.

  “I’m trying to create something that not only lets you see a false memory, but actively participate in it as well.”

  “That’s possible?”

  “I think so.”

  Piper ran a hand through her hair, in a hopeless attempt to smooth out the frizz. “How?”

  “It’s kind of hard to explain. But the idea is to let the watcher do things. To let her change parts of the simulation as well as be impacted by what she experiences.”

  “What if someone does something completely unexpected?” I asked. “Something the mirror couldn’t possibly see coming?”

  “Then the simulation ends.” She shrugged. “But it’s easier than you might think to keep a person engaged.”

  “That’s amazing,” Piper said. “How come you never told us about it?”

  “Because it’s not done yet.”

  “You must’ve been working on it for a long time,” I said.

  “A couple of years,” she replied like it was no big deal. “I did most of the work before I came here.”

  “Is that why you dropped out? Because you wanted to finish it?”

  “Nope. But it’s given me more time to work on it.”

  “What are you going to do with it once it’s done?”

  “Sell it. Hopefully, for enough money to get my folks back on their feet.” She smiled. “There’s loads of potential. Take this class, for instance. With simulator mirrors, we wouldn’t need to fight in a lousy HMQ. We could train on any terrain and under any conditions. And rather than silly games, we could practice real missions. Like rescuing friends or fighting great magicians.�
��

  A hush came over the crowd. A couple of kids jumped to their feet. Looking around, I saw everyone swivel toward the locker rooms. Naturally, I followed suit.

  Nearly the entire faculty stood at the edge of the field. They were dressed in their finest attire and carried themselves with solemn purpose. Boltstar, derby in place, stood before them. His back was ramrod straight and he clutched his wand in an outstretched hand.

  Silently, he waved the wand and white sparks soared into the air. The faculty members stepped to either side, forming an aisle that led back to the locker rooms. A couple of figures appeared within the aisle. Squinting, I saw Galison and Wadflow. Sandwiched between them was Ivan Gully.

  “That’s him, right?” Leandra’s eyes widened. “The Chaotic from this morning?”

  I nodded.

  “What’s he doing here?” Piper wondered.

  A couple of faculty members stepped away from the others. They swept their wands in quick, flourishing movements. The sounds of instruments—trumpets, drums, and horns—filled the air.

  Tucking his wand under his armpit, Boltstar strode toward us. Galison and Wadflow prodded Ivan along after him. The Chaotic looked considerably more polished than he’d appeared that morning. He wore fine silk slacks and neatly polished shoes. A dress shirt, sans tie, covered his washed, gaunt frame. Staring hard, I saw his eyes were clear and focused. His jaw looked strong and defiant. Despite the fact that his right arm was in a sling, he appeared ready to fight at a moment’s notice.

  The faculty fell in line. Silently, the procession marched to the middle of the HMQ. Boltstar waved his wand again, emitting yet another brilliant shower of blazing white sparks. The music stopped. Faculty members streamed into the bleachers and took seats in the upper levels.

  Galison and Wadflow spread out on either side of Ivan. Boltstar, meanwhile, gave us a sweeping, contemplative look.

  “Good evening, everyone,” he said. “Before I begin, I’d like to ask all of you to please excuse my tardiness, the reason for which will become apparent shortly.”