Cursed With Power (the Magicians Book 1)

by Lindsey Richardson

  I dropped the dagger and the candle and keeled over Dyanna’s limp body. When I backed away briefly, I noticed the red stains on her dress. Wailing, I flung myself over her body again. I felt for a pulse in her hand that was extended out, but there was nothing.

  All that remained was the spark of ember to shine light onto the dagger Dyanna returned to me. I glared at its red stained blade, wondering if our own family weapon had been used against her.

  Chapter Two

  Dark Meets Light

  Three weeks later...

  I woke up in the morning and dragged myself out into the kitchen, trying to forget about the previous sleepless nights. Soundlessly, I snatched a bowl and a small knife and placed them on the table. As soon as I began peeling an apple, there was a knock at the door. I jumped, cutting myself with the knife and watching as the blood oozed out of my finger. It was unusual for customers to stop by in the morning with requests.

  With the bloody finger in my mouth, I walked over to the door and opened it. Keina, one of the locals, stood outside. She designed dresses for a shop on the outskirts of town, but her handiwork wasn’t the finest. Fortunately she wasn’t much to compete with, seeing as I also ran the seamstress business my aunt had left behind.

  There was a grin on her freckled face, though I reasoned with myself it was too early for her to be spreading good news.

  “Celestria, the Prince’s messenger has arrived with news!” Keina exclaimed.

  Withdrawing my finger from my mouth, I stepped outside, closing the door behind me. She grabbed onto my arm and led me toward the crowd in the middle of town. It seemed everyone was outside, but I couldn’t imagine why the Prince of Transylvania would be sending his messenger to our small town. Nonetheless, there was a messenger standing on top of a tall box in front of everyone.

  “By order of the Prince of Transylvania, John VII Sigismund Zapólya, any Dark magicians living are no longer welcome in these lands,” the messenger began, reading off of a scroll.

  “The people of Hethulen are being advised with the same warnings other towns have received. Dark magicians are threats to our society’s wellbeing. The Magic Council has assured the Prince that only five of these monsters remain living today.”

  The crowd cheered, overwhelmed with joy. The cry that escaped my lips was ignored by the clapping and whistling, and I held my hand against my chest. Could it be that only five of us were alive now? I looked around at the happy faces. The locals were not aware that I spent my entire life practicing the magic they feared. And while I had been able to play along as an ordinary woman, this news would destroy the hopes of keeping such a lifestyle.

  Raising his hand, the messenger gestured for the crowd to silence. Once they were quiet, he continued.

  “As always the laws of magic are being enforced. Humans cannot interfere in magical fights of any kind, humans cannot shelter Dark magicians, the Council will determine fair punishment for magicians, a magician must use his magic in battle or it is considered unjust and punishable by death, if a Dark magician is accused of a crime by at least two White magicians they will be sentenced to trial and ruled guilty, and lastly any human who is acknowledged for aiding a magician will be punished as abiding by human laws.”

  The locals cheered him on as he jumped down from the box and made his way toward the horse waiting for him. With everyone preoccupied, I slipped away from the crowd and ran toward the cemetery.

  I couldn’t think straight with all of the commotion, and there was only one person I could really talk to about it. Hurriedly, I approached the cemetery and ran to the familiar grave. There was a wooden cross standing up in the ground. I knelt down and bowed my head.

  “Well Dyanna, it looks like your allies were right. We have been overwhelmed by the White magician’s place in society, and now there are only five of us alive,” I said, letting out a long sigh.

  Months ago, Dyanna had sworn that other magicians she met up with had mentioned the decreasing number of Dark magicians. We started contacting various magicians after that, and I remembered most clearly a response saying “we’re being overcome.” Now that message was shouting in my head; a magician tried to warn me, and I had ignored him.

  Since only five Dark magicians were still alive, perhaps that meant only the best had survived. I shrugged off that idea; I wasn’t naïve enough to believe I was better than everyone else. Another part I didn’t understand was how the White magicians had managed to kill off so many of our kind. Who had they kept alive?

  Magical warfare began centuries before I had been born, starting with the first magicians. White magicians never accepted the Dark, and because of that the misuse of magic began. The battles now focused on power; everyone wanted it, and they all needed it to survive. I only vaguely remembered the history of the magical world, but it seemed mankind itself chose for this to be a war that might never be won or loss.

  Shaking my head, I said out loud, “What should I do, Dyanna? This isn’t a battle I want to be caught up in.”

  I was trapped, knowing I would never be accepted by the White magicians and couldn’t hope to please the Dark ones. I avoided association with the magical world; that was what separated me from them. Aside from occasionally fighting merely for survival, I made no attempt to study or have a personal interest in the magical world.

  “I just wish you were here,” I whispered, holding in tears.

  Since Dyanna couldn’t offer me any answers, I tried to think of who I could seek out.

  Ilena mentioned numerous times when I was younger that there was a powerful Dark magician. His name was Ruald Vinctor, and Ilena swore that if we ever wanted to learn more about magic he would be the man to visit. Back then, Dyanna and I thought we were too skilled to seek out another Dark magician for lessons. Now, however, he was the only name that came to mind. If he was as advanced with his magic as Ilena had said, surely he would be alive. Would he not?

  With some hope, I stood up and brushed myself off. Then I began walking back to my hovel. Since Ruald lived in Iacobs dorff—or so that was what I heard last—it would take about a day or two journey. I would need to return home to pack any necessary materials, and then I could be on my way.

  Fortunately the cemetery was not a long walk away from my home, and within a matter of minutes I had returned. I began packing the moment I stepped through the door. I placed food, water and spare money I saved up in a bag that I swung over my shoulder. I went to the dresser by my bed and tried to determine how much clothes would fit in the small bag. After several attempts, I was only able to fit one dress and a bodice.

  Then I knelt down to the bottom drawer in my dresser and uncovered two black staffs. One had several indents in it; my eyes watered, recalling it was Dyanna’s. She had used it in various fights.

  Without a second thought, I grabbed her staff and closed the drawer. At least in a way, she would be close to me. The staff could be used as a magical weapon, though that was something only Dyanna knew how to do.

  Feeling overwhelmed, I stopped everything and sat down in a wooden chair. The chair faced Dyanna’s bed, as it had ever since her death. I couldn’t help but notice the familiar black mark underneath the empty bed. It brought back memories of a troubled past.

  “I think something is wrong with Auntie,” Dyanna cried the morning of her tenth birthday.

  I looked at her and pushed back strands of hair to reveal the bruise on her face and tears running down her cheeks.

  “Take me to her,” I replied.

  She led me into our hovel, pointing at our aunt’s dead body. Her eyes were entirely white, and her fist was clenched. She had been our caretaker ever since our parents died when we were younglings.

  Dyanna called it an “accident.” Even as I wrapped my arms around her and tried to comfort her, I knew there was a terrible secret Ilena took to her grave.

  I grasped onto the staff and cleared my head of the memories. Ilena’s presence could no longer feel as if it lingered these fo
ur walls. I would be leaving this place I once called home.

  Standing up, I walked over to the door and grabbed my cloak. I slipped my hands through the sleeves of the plain, black material. A thought occurred to me as I did so, and I decided I would pay a visit to Mervyn before I left town.

  Mervyn owned the only inn in town. He was an ordinary man in every aspect with a wife and two young boys. No one would think to question his character, but Dyanna had stopped at the inn sometimes when she came home from a battle. According to her, he would sometimes wear fine cloaks full with elegant designs. She swore that some of the designs looked like those of our magical language: Eldarian.

  Nodding my head, I decided it was better to be safe than sorry. Whether Mervyn was a Dark magician or not, it was best I found out now before it was too late.

  I stepped outside of my home and breathed in the fresh air. Pulling my hood over my long red hair, I wondered if life would ever be the same again. I hadn’t even left town yet, and already I felt vulnerable. The ground I walked on felt strange for the first time; the blue sky and bright sun seemed to mock me. The people around me didn’t know who I was, and there was not another person I could share the pain with. I carried the burden on my own, and when I took another step, I realized I wanted nothing more than for Mervyn to be one of us.

  Chapter Three

  Shattered Heart

  While I did not know what to ask Mervyn or even if it was appropriate for me to ask him personal questions, I could not change my mind. Before I could fully debate with myself on the matter, I was already knocking on the door to his inn. I waited only a moment, and then he answered. At first he looked astonished, as if he was seeing a ghost, but then he steadied himself against the door. He grinned at me with crooked teeth.

  “Hello there, Celestria! I almost didn’t notice ye with the cloak,” he said.

  I laughed uneasily as I pulled the hood from my head.

  “I wondered if I might speak with you,” I said as I glanced into the inn to see if anyone was inside. The place was empty; it usually got business in the afternoon and evening.

  He nodded his head and welcomed me inside. Leading me past the tables and the counter full of drinks, he gestured for me to sit down in a smaller room with a wooden bench and chair. Since he built the inn himself, he had also made it large enough for his family to live in. The furnishings were simple, but the place was maintained nicely. I sat on the bench while he sat in a wooden chair that looked like it would fall apart at any given moment.

  I looked over Mervyn, and it was the first time I paid any mind to everything about him. He was a man in his early thirties, who seemed no different from any other man in town. He wore normal clothing—a tunic, pants and fabric boots—and he only seemed extraordinary on days when he chose to wear one of his fancy cloaks.

  “The wife and my boys are upstairs, cleaning bedrooms for our guests. So tell me, what brings ye here today?” Mervyn asked. He flexed his hands back and forth.

  “I suppose you heard the news about the last remaining Dark magicians?” I said.

  He looked away from me; his face was turning a shade of red.

  “Aye… There are only five left. With how they’ve been comin' into towns and startin' chaos in nearby kingdoms, I’m surprised any of ‘em are alive,” he replied, though he seemed to be out of breath.

  I continued to keep my focus on him as I pushed further for what needed to be said. I tried my hardest to ignore his accent, which made it even more difficult for me to understand what he was saying.

  “The truth is, Mervyn, I have heard rumors arising as well. There have been some who say you're a Dark magician,” I said in a low whisper. I kept a stern look on my face while Mervyn finally turned to stare at me.

  His jaw dropped and he rubbed his hands together.

  “Now… now where would ye hear such a rumor? I’m no Dark magician! I might not have an opinion on those folk, but I am certainly not one of them,” Mervyn shouted. He stood up and paced uneasily around the room. He ran his hand through his greasy hair.

  “I’ve spoken only what I have heard, and I cannot say names. How can I take what you say to be the truth?” I dared to question, though it was a bit of a risk. Supposing he was a Dark magician, he could attack me without any warning.

  “Ye have my word, and that ought to be enough for ye, Celestria Hale.” He emphasized my last name as if I should be ashamed of myself. “This is a family business I run, and I’ve got nothin’ to hide. Get out of here.”

  I pushed myself off of the bench and watched as Mervyn walked into the larger area of the inn. He began wiping off the counter, preparing for another day of hard work. He said nothing to me, and my conscience warned me not to say anything more or I’d regret it. He was a larger built man; much taller and muscular than I was, despite the fit body I maintained. However, there was one last question I had to ask for my own sake. If I did not ask it, I would fret over it later, so I went into the next room where Mervyn was continuing to store away wooden casks.

  “Silvers, where do you buy those cloaks from?” I said in what was almost a murmur.

  He did not turn around, giving off the impression that he had ignored me entirely. I began walking out, and when I opened the door he spoke.

  “A friend sends them to me. Take heed of what I tell ye, Celestria. Do not come into my inn again with these accusations.”

  I felt a shiver run down my spine. I had known Mervyn for almost my whole life. Never once had I heard him threaten someone. Knowing I had already risked too much, I continued on my way without asking any more of him.

  I pushed past the tavern doors and stepped outside. The street was starting to fill with various locals, but I pulled the cloak over my head and began walking out of town toward Iacobs dorff, which was a neighboring city full of many houses and people. While I was eager to see the city, having never seen one before, I realized I was leaving the town I had lived in ever since my parents’ death.

  Abruptly a boy who looked to be my age bumped into me while I was lost in thought. Like me, he had a black cloak with a hood. I was able to see his broad chin and light blue eyes, but his other physical characteristics remained a mystery. For an instance, I wondered if he was a Dark magician. His cloak look strangely similar to Mervyn’s, yet I had never seen him before. Perhaps he was a delivery boy, but there wasn’t anything in his hands that agreed with that theory. I shrugged away my thoughts since the last man I assumed to be a Dark magician had been nothing more than an inn owner.

  “Pardon me, mistress, might you be able to tell me where Mervyn Silvers lives?” he asked with a melodic voice that was both beautiful and relaxed.

  “His house is one of the largest in town. It’s over there; you cannot walk past it,” I said, pointing to the large tavern behind us.

  His blue eyes followed my gesture and then returned to look at me. I felt I had become mesmerized by his eyes alone.

  “Léal!”

  Out of nowhere, two women came running toward the boy I was speaking with. They had long elegant dresses and hair that was curled to perfection.

  I shook my head and walked past them, having no interest in who these people were. I had met rich folk before, and they were always the same: they adored their wealth more than anything else.

  As I stepped over several sticks in the road, I knew this was the last time I would see my home town. Hethulen would be a place I could never return to again. I may have only been walking to a city, yet it felt like I was walking into a whole new world. Even so, I pushed onward.

  The journey to Iacobs dorff was at first not dreadful; however, before long the sun was shining directly down on me, and my body was burning. Underneath my thick cloak was a violet dress, but traveling inconspicuously was essential. I stayed off the main roads so I wouldn’t run into any travelers in fear that they might discover who I was. So long as I stayed focused, I was convinced I could reach the city before nightfall. Even so, sweat covered my entire bo
dy and the feeling was unpleasant. I walked through weeds and tall grass, and never once was there a sign to indicate that I was approaching the city.

  Eventually the sun set, and soon it was too dark for me to see anything. I decided I would have to sleep out in the wilderness for the remainder of the night, though bandits were known to occasionally appear. Sometimes they searched alongside the road, and if they saw something of possible value, they would attempt to steal it. However, I did not waste time worrying about them. I was more able to defend myself than any ordinary human.

  I lay on the grass and dirt, though the grass no longer felt soft. I kept a hold of my bag, and I did not take off my cloak. The wind chilled my skin. As goose bumps rose up my arms, I heard a frog croaking in the distance. I turned on my side and then lay on my back. There seemed to be no comfortable way to lie. I moaned from the discomfort and at the frog, which came closer with each passing moment.

  Croak. Croak. Croak.

  I forced my eyes shut, but the creature would not stop. Every time I was about to fall asleep, it would croak yet again. Eventually I could not take the noise anymore. The frog would drive me mad if it continued on all night. I lifted a small rock nearby my side. Without much effort, I threw it in the direction of the frog. Silence. I sighed; at last I would be able to…

  Croak.

  If there had been another rock nearby—preferably a much larger one—I would have thrown it. I knew my aim had been off, but I thought for certain it would scare the frog away. It continued to croak throughout the night, but at some moment my eyelids lowered.

  ***