Magical Arts Academy 12: Magic Ignites

by Lucia Ashta

  The firedrakes and dragon continued to swoop above us while causing a horrible racket, and the tension among the magicians of the academy was tangible. Add to that the constant stream of emerging spirits, and the frenzy that surrounded me was enough to keep me on edge.

  But not Ama. She was too still for the circumstances, the entirety of turmoil taking place within.

  “Then what are you worried about?” I asked, trying to be as gentle as possible. The girl seemed fragile, as if she’d used all her strength to endure what she had. Now that she was free, she could grant herself permission to break.

  But I wouldn’t allow that. Now was her chance to find peace, something she clearly deserved.

  In a voice so low I edged closer to hear her over the racket, she said, “I don’t want to see them because I’m worried they’ll be happy.” She pursed her lips and her face scrunched. If she’d been capable of real tears, they’d be sliding down her face. “That’s a horrible thing to say, isn’t it?”

  “Only on the surface. I’m sure you want your family to be happy, don’t you?”

  She nodded, and her lips trembled.

  “You just don’t want to think that you weren’t important to them, that they could have moved on without you. Am I right?”

  She nodded again, reminding me of a child many years younger. “I want them to be happy without me, of course I do. I just... I just miss them so much.” She sobbed, but the sound wasn’t right. Her cries were dry and harsh. She could no longer cry real tears, and without them, her grief was little more than a shell.

  I rose, taking a second to steady myself. I reached out with my arms, but froze in an awkward gesture. I wanted to comfort her, but I couldn’t very well embrace her without making it worse. No ghost wanted a reminder that they couldn’t experience the basic comforts of the living. I knew it from experience.

  Finally, I brought my arms to my side, trying not to draw attention at my failed attempt. “What you’re feeling is completely normal.” I spoke with self-assurance, although I clearly wasn’t an authority on what the dead should or shouldn’t feel. Still, I’d say anything at this point to help the girl. Her sense of solitude was rubbing off on me, and I yearned to relieve the hollow ache that consumed her inside.

  “No one wants to feel as if they aren’t missed,” I said, casting a glance in Nando’s direction and discovering his eyes on me already, seeking me out.

  While Ama tilted her gaze toward the sky, I put a palm up indicating to Nando that he should wait, then pointed toward Ama, and next snapped my fingers together with my thumb. Since to him I’d signaled to empty space and done odd things with my hands, I could only hope he’d get the message. I wouldn’t abandon Ama.

  He gave me a quizzical look before Delilah stepped between us and spoke to him. Whatever she said, Nando turned his attention to her, and I hurried my gaze back to Ama. I didn’t want her to think she didn’t matter to me as she worried about not being important to her loved ones.

  “I’m sure your family struggled to continue without you,” I said, immediately regretting my choice of words. I hurried to make it right, without any idea how to do that. “You’re very special.”

  “You barely know me. You don’t know that I’m special.”

  I squared my shoulders to her and stared into her translucent eyes. “You are special. It doesn’t take a long time to figure that out.”

  But she didn’t appear convinced.

  “I feel it. Your family misses you every day and tries to honor your memory by living on.” Somehow, I was certain that was true. I wasn’t sure if her parents were alive or not, but I sensed that whoever was still among the living carried her memory. “You’re missed every moment of every day. All they want is for you to be at peace now.”

  “You think?”

  “I know.”

  She met my determined gaze for so long that I questioned whether I’d said the right thing. But finally, the resolve grew in her stare. “I think you’re right, and I do want peace. I’ve longed for it for, well, as long as Maurisse trapped me.”

  Again, she gazed off into the distance, where the long line of spirits had drifted until they vanished from sight. There couldn’t be many more spirits left in the castle at the rate they’d been going.

  “You’d better hurry,” I prompted. “They’ll show you the way.”

  She took a floating step toward the trail blazed by the others, then turned to me. “Thank you for keeping your promise to us.”

  In reality, I hadn’t done much to secure their release. Clara had done most of it while I was lucky to remember my name, but it wasn’t the time for those details.

  She moved toward the others, casting one final glance at me over her shoulder. “Goodbye, Isa.”

  “Goodbye, Ama.” I smiled for her sake and watched until she became small and faint, until I was no longer certain she was there at all anymore.

  Then I let my smile fall as I experienced the full weight of the devastation and loss one man had inflicted on so many.

  That had to end. Maurisse wouldn’t harm another soul if I had anything to say about it.

  I didn’t care one tiny bit that I was probably one of the least qualified here to take on the despicable duke. I’d do everything within my power to make sure his reign of terror, in the king’s shadow, was over.

  I’d embrace my power with all the courage Ama had just shown as she gave herself over to the unknown.

  And I wouldn’t be alone. I had a whole crew of magicians who’d work toward the same goal. Sure, we were defeated now, beaten, confused, and exhausted.

  But we wouldn’t be for long.

  I made my way over to the others. It was time to join the team.

  Chapter 3

  By the time I reached Nando, he and most everyone else huddled around Walt, who remained unconscious on the ground, scattered like litter among the castle’s pieces.

  I wove my way through the magicians and sidled next to Nando. “How are you feeling?” I whispered, although there was no real reason to be quiet. The firedrakes and dragon were making so much noise, my whispers wouldn’t make a difference... and yet, it seemed like the right thing to do out of respect for Walt. I didn’t need to be an experienced physician or witch to ascertain how grave his condition was.

  “I’m fine. Just a head bump.” Nando waved my concern away, though I didn’t believe for a second his injury was that slight. It had bled as if it were serious, but when compared to Walt, I didn’t argue the point.

  “Just... take it easy for a bit, will you?” I said, anticipating full well that my brother would ignore my request for caution.

  “Sure.” His focus was on Walt, as was mine.

  “Is he....” I couldn’t bring myself to say it at first. “Is he going to be all right?”

  He thought he’d missed his chance to kiss me when I’d died, now it would seem I might have missed my chance to recapture lost opportunities. I fought not to think of what might happen now, and what might have been.

  “I hope so,” Nando said, doing nothing to reassure me.

  I had more questions, but decided against asking any. I wasn’t the only one impacted by the dangers and losses we’d faced—and might still have to endure. Arianne cradled Sir Lancelot in her arms as if he were an infant and rested her head on Gustave’s shoulder. The owl, ordinarily concerned about presenting himself as more than a small bird, did nothing to resist the comfort of the lady’s arms.

  Clara leaned against Marcelo, who wrapped his arms around her. Trevor and Delilah gathered their children close, Nicholas included despite his prickly personality. Brave and Gertrude stood closer to each other than I’d ever seen them before, and Albacus hovered behind Mordecai, unwilling to be far.

  Marie refused to leave Walt’s side, and even Grand Witch Tillsdale appeared concerned as she fussed over Walt. Malachai, who’d only recently joined our group, was fixed on the problems of the living instead of his opportunity to leave them behind.r />
  “Why isn’t he waking?” Marie asked Grand Witch Tillsdale and Mordecai, although I suspected she already guessed the answer.

  “His condition is very serious,” Giselle said with more finesse than I believed her capable of.

  “But he’ll be all right, won’t he?”

  Tears pricked in my eyes at Marie’s desperation. Anguish showed everywhere on the doe-eyed blonde: in her expression, the posturing of her body, the raspy tremble of her voice.

  Instead of answering, Giselle looked to Mordecai, and that was the most frightening response of all.

  Mordecai cleared his throat, shared a glance with Albacus, and said, “His injury is grave. The blood doesn’t appear to be flowing properly to his leg.”

  I drew breath in sharply, and immediately regretted it when several of the others turned toward me. But we all recognized what that meant: amputation. Unless Mordecai or the grand witch had some substantial trick up their sleeves, the only way Walt might survive something like this was if he lost his leg.

  I swallowed hard at the sobs that wanted to escape me. The senselessness of it all hit me like a stone to the chest. This was all because Maurisse wanted what? I wasn’t sure, but whatever he wanted, the cost he imposed on others was too great to bear. Besides, I’d been the one to lead Walt into the castle that second time, hadn’t I? In a way, this was my fault.

  I leaned into the comfort Nando offered me. I needed it. If Walt lost his leg, I didn’t know how I’d ever face him again. Forget about kisses and the chance at first love, he’d resent me for this. And if he did forgive me, it might be worse, because I wasn’t sure I’d find the way to forgive myself.

  Mordecai moved away from Albacus and Malachai to crouch next to Marie. He took her free hand, the one not wrapped around Walt as if her dedication alone could bring him back, and waited until she met his gaze. She turned her head toward Mordecai, but even so, her eyes veered feverishly toward her brother.

  Mordecai dropped her hand and cupped her face with both palms. “Look at me, child.”

  She did for a few moments, but then returned her attention to her brother, as if she couldn’t bear to look away.

  “Your brother isn’t going anywhere. Look at me.” It was a command this time, though a gentle one.

  Marie complied, her eyes a pool of fear.

  “I won’t lie to you,” the wizened wizard said. “His condition isn’t good. Infection has set in, and his body fights it. That’s why he’s as hot as he is.” Walt’s face, though pale, was slick with sweat. “He burns.”

  “But....” Marie’s voice was pleading, but I didn’t think she knew whom to plead with: the magicians who were trying to help, or some force beyond us that she hoped would have mercy on us?

  “I’m not saying we’ve given up, child, and clearly neither has he.”

  “But can’t you heal him with magic?”

  Mordecai sighed and shared a heavy look with the grand witch, who said, “We’ve been trying.”

  “Then why isn’t it working?” Marie asked. I caught Nando looking at her with longing, as if he wished to comfort her as well as me.

  “It still might,” Giselle said. “Don’t lose hope.”

  “Remember that belief is as important as the magic itself,” Arianne piped up from behind the grand witch. “You must fight as hard as your brother now, darling, as will all of us, I’m sure. Magic can only happen when you truly believe. You know this though, don’t you?”

  Marie didn’t say anything, her eyes a sea of lament, back on her brother and the crushed leg that was the cause of his struggle.

  “Chère, you do know this, do you not? That you have to support your brother’s recovery and the magic that Giselle and Mordecai have been doing on him with your thoughts, which are a form of magic, oui?”

  Marie still didn’t answer.

  “Why is he not reacting better to the magic you’ve done?” Gertrude asked.

  Mordecai and Albacus each raised a hand to stroke their long beards; only Mordecai’s made tinkling sounds as his movements clinked its beads together. Mordecai said, “I believe he’s waging a war both within his body and his mind. Our magic should have had more effect.”

  “What does that mean?” Brave asked.

  “It means,” Albacus said, “that external magic can only do so much if he holds onto the image of his injured self within his mind. While my brother and Giselle’s magic attempts to repair him, he’s fighting that magic with his own idea of the gravity of his injury.”

  “He’s fighting the healing?” Marie’s voice was laden with heartbreak. She feared she was not only losing her brother, but that he was willingly leaving her behind.

  “Not intentionally,” Arianne said. “In his unconscious state he wouldn’t realize what he’s doing.”

  “Will that change when he wakes up?”

  None of us there voiced what I’m sure many of us were thinking: if he wakes up.

  “If he’s able to fight the infection and embrace the magic, then oui, that will definitely help.” But it wasn’t lost on me that Arianne wasn’t making any guarantees.

  “It’s all my fault,” I whispered to Nando, sure no one else would hear me. But just then the firedrakes and dragon overhead ceased their squawking, and everyone heard me.

  Mordecai whirled on me, every bead on his head and in his beard clinking at once. “This is not your fault,” he seethed. “None of this is the fault of anyone here.” He spoke this bit to Albacus, who I only then realized must be feeling as guilty as I. Mordecai stood and turned to take us all in as he said, “There is only one person to blame in all of this.”

  His words settled across the crowd, further dampening our mood like a wet blanket on a cold day. His next words reignited the fire within me. “And I intend not only to make him pay, but to stop him, once and for all.”

  The firedrakes began to land all around us, and the dragon’s large form appeared to morph as the colors of the setting sun brushed his scarlet scales.

  “I’ll seek Maurisse out until I find him, and I’ll make sure he never does anything like this to anyone ever again.”

  Mordecai’s words were the sparks that ignited our fury. “I’m going with you,” Marcelo said. “As am I,” Clara said.

  A chorus of me toos sounded out and, like kindling to a fire, increased the strength of our righteous anger.

  Humbert landed off to the side with a thump that rumbled through the ground, shooting a vibration up my legs.

  “Before we start clamoring for vengeance,” Delilah said, stepping out from beneath her husband’s arm, “we have to get this poor boy to the estate. He needs all our focus for healing.”

  “Of course that’s what we’ll do,” Arianne said. “That’s why I called Humbert down.” At the mention of the dragon, Sir Lancelot twitched in her hands. “We’ll get him back to Acquaine straight away, where we’ll concentrate on his healing until he’s better.”

  Or dead or legless. As soon as I had the thought, I regretted it. I believed Arianne when she said our thoughts affected our magic, and what we were able to achieve with it. More than anyone there perhaps, I believed it to be true. All the more reason not to allow my fears to come to the forefront, and all the more reason why they tried to against my will.

  “We can’t all work on his healing,” a voice from the back said. I peeked beneath Nando’s arm to confirm that it was who I thought it was. Then again, no one else sounded like the vampire. Count Vabu’s usually impassive voice sounded as dead as he was now. “As soon as we settle him and everyone else at the estate, I’m setting out.”

  Count Vabu’s words traveled across our grouping and clung to us heavily. “I have my sister’s death to avenge.”

  “I... I thought Miranda killed your sister,” Gustave said, sounding hesitant, and I understood why. Although Gustave and the vampire were friends, his black eyes were cold as ice—and wholly deadly.

  “All of this is the fault of one man. I intend to hunt hi
m down.”

  The rest went unsaid. He’d hunt and kill Maurisse.

  “I will avenge my sister.”

  I expected someone, possibly many someones, to object to the call for vengeance. It was one thing to act in one’s defense, or even to prevent future wrongs, like the obliteration of any kind of stability in the world of magic.

  But even though I waited for it, the objection never arrived. It seemed as if the magicians had played nice for the last time.

  Maurisse had crossed a line that shouldn’t be crossed, and the magicians there were prepared to make him pay for it. They’d ensure his plan to bring about conflict between magicians and those that denied magic would crumble before it caused its intended bloodshed.

  “You won’t be hunting alone,” Marcelo said as Brave nodded his agreement.

  Count Vabu’s icy stare circled our gathering, finally landing on Walt, and Marie at his side. He nodded, just once, but that gesture was enough to send a chill through my bones. “Very well. But you’ll have to keep up. I’ll act fast, and I’ll have no mercy.”

  Although Clara looked unsure, Marcelo gave a single curt nod. Brave said, “I’m coming with you.”

  “That’s acceptable, but we’ll operate by my rules.”

  I was fairly certain Count Vabu had no rules—and that was the point.

  “We can figure all this out later,” Delilah interjected. “We need to move the boy before it isn’t safe to do so any longer.”

  Arianne stood, extending her hands toward me even before she asked, “Isa, darling, will you please take care of Sir Lancelot? He’s recovering, but shouldn’t move much.”

  “O-of course,” I said, hastily accepting the care of the most special animal I’d ever met.

  Arianne didn’t pause or give me instructions. She addressed Mordecai instead, “You can hover him atop Humbert when we’re ready, oui?”

  “Of course. Will I be flying with you?” he asked.

  “You’ll have to. Gustave and I will handle Humbert and the firedrakes.”