The Spell Realm

by Zales, Dima

  Going down to his storage room, he carefully selected a few droplets. The first was a Life Capture of what Blaise had felt during the vote on the day Louie had been sentenced. Let her experience what it’s like to learn that your brother is condemned to death. The next one was of Blaise’s conversation with Augusta about the vote, when he learned that she had voted in favor of his brother’s punishment. Let her experience the betrayal of the woman you love.

  Then, reaching for the bottle that had the skull-and-bones label, Blaise paused, wondering if this one would be too cruel of a punishment. Then Gala’s words flashed across his mind again, and his resolve solidified. Let Augusta experience Louie’s death through his own eyes. Let her see the consequences of her actions.

  Grimly decided, Blaise walked back to his study to write the appropriate spell. When it was done, he loaded the cards into his Stone and went downstairs to see if it had worked.

  The spell was simple, yet beautifully complex. The fact that the droplets could be reused was what made it possible. It was a loop—a loop of the Life Captures he’d chosen, playing over and over in Augusta’s mind.

  Standing over her, he watched it happen.

  A needle flew up to Augusta’s finger first. The Life Capture Sphere then floated next to the little bit of blood, beginning the recording process. After that, the first Life Capture droplet Blaise had chosen flew into Augusta’s mouth.

  He didn’t watch the rest—he knew that after a time, a new droplet would be formed in the Stone and join the queue that was waiting its turn to be consumed by Augusta. This would go on and on, until either the paralysis spell or the looping spell lost its potency. Which would be a very long time, if Blaise had done his job properly. With each subsequent recording, Augusta would experience a bit of her own reaction as well. It would be an endless loop of despair and regret—or so Blaise hoped, at least.

  “Maybe you will learn something from this,” he told her, even though he knew Augusta couldn’t hear him right now. Steeling his heart against any hint of weakness or remorse, Blaise walked back to his study.

  He couldn’t afford to think about Augusta anymore. He needed to figure out how he could reunite with Gala.

  * * *

  Blaise spent the next few hours reviewing everything related to the Spell Realm.

  He wished he could simply bring Gala back, but he couldn’t think of a way to do it. During her creation, the spells to make her mind and to have her manifest in the Physical Realm had been intertwined. As far as he knew, there was no way to simply reach into the Spell Realm and bring her back here. It would require a thorough understanding of the Spell Realm, and the only person who might even attempt something of that complexity would be Gala herself.

  However, he had once succeeded in sending an object to the Spell Realm, Blaise realized, thinking of the needle that had come back as that strange sword. It was a crazy idea, but it was the only way he could think of to reach Gala. The thought of her alone out there was unbearable to him.

  Reworking and scaling up the needle spell, Blaise made himself the target, trying to perfect the spell along the way to the best of his ability. When he was done, he still wasn’t certain of the result. It would take months of careful testing and experimentation to ensure the spell’s safety, but he didn’t have the luxury of time.

  Mentally bracing himself, Blaise loaded the cards into the Interpreter Stone and waited to see the results.

  Chapter 48: Barson

  His clothes soaked through with blood, Barson quietly opened the door to the room where two of his next targets were sleeping. Dara slipped in behind him, her steps whisper-silent. She was pale with fatigue, but the look on her face was that of grim determination.

  Two sorcerer apprentices were sharing this room. The one whose bed was closest to the door was Jundi—a name that was on Barson’s list. Though the room was quite dark, Barson could make out her shape in the dim moonlight streaming in from the window. Gripping his dagger, Barson stepped closer to the sleeping woman, and in one smooth motion slit her throat. There was a quiet gurgle, followed by the sharp, metallic scent of blood and death.

  Jundi’s roommate continued sleeping, blissfully unaware. It was Hanta—a young sorceress whose name was not on his list.

  Dara approached Hanta’s bed and touched the woman’s shoulder. “Wake up,” she said gently, loading a spell into her Stone. A second later, the room was illuminated by a pale yellow light.

  The girl opened her eyes, a look of shock forming on her face. Gasping, she jackknifed to a sitting position, holding up the blanket protectively in front of herself. As her eyes fell on her dead roommate, the look of shock turned to horror.

  “You will not make any noise or try to do anything stupid,” Barson said evenly, keeping his bloody dagger visible.

  The sorceress stared at him, her body starting to tremble under the blanket. “Captain? W-what’s going on? W-why are you doing this? I thought you were dead—”

  “Yes, yes, I’ve heard that a lot today,” Barson said impatiently. “Now listen to me carefully, Hanta. I’m not here to answer your questions. You have two options: you can join Jundi today—or you can join me.”

  “Join you?” The woman looked like she was going into shock, her face utterly bloodless. “What do you mean? You’re our Guard—”

  Dara smiled, sitting down on the bed next to Hanta. “Not anymore, dear,” she said softly. “He’s about to be your king. And you can join him, or try to fight against him. Either way, the outcome will be the same—but with the first option, you will be richly rewarded for your loyalty, whereas with the second . . .” His sister let her voice trail off and glanced meaningfully at the dagger in Barson’s hand. Hanta’s eyes followed her gaze, and she visibly flinched.

  “Now,” Barson said calmly, stepping toward the sorceress. “What do you choose?”

  “I choose you,” Hanta said hurriedly, scooting backward on the bed.

  “I knew you would be reasonable,” Dara said reassuringly. “That’s why I kept your name off the list. Now let’s discuss the Life Capture surveillance program I came up with, a program that will make sure there is never a misunderstanding between us . . .”

  For the next few minutes, Barson’s sister explained all about how sorcerers’ thoughts would be carefully watched and monitored via Life Captures, to prevent any treachery. Hanta kept nodding to show her understanding, tears running down her face, and Barson knew that this sorceress would be just like the others they’d dealt with on this bloody night—that she would fall in line with the new regime.

  As Dara was finishing her explanation, the door to Hanta’s room opened, and Zanil walked in. “Larn sent me to tell you that we couldn’t find at least forty people on our list—some of them quite dangerous.”

  Barson frowned. That was not good. He’d been hoping for a swift and controlled operation, and it looked like things were about to get messy.

  His thoughts were interrupted by an ear-splitting noise that vibrated through the tower.

  “The gong,” Dara said, jumping to her feet. “Someone has gotten into the Council Hall and is warning the rest of danger. They could be gathering there as we speak.”

  Leaving Hanta crying over her roommate’s body, they ran down the twisted corridors of the Tower to the Hall, gathering soldiers and their sorcerer allies on the way. When they got there, they saw Larn and a group of soldiers standing in front of the giant doors.

  “They’re locked,” Larn reported, coming up to Barson. “How do you want us to approach it?”

  Barson turned to Dara. “Can you and our allies prevent anyone from teleporting, or otherwise leaving that hall?”

  “Hmm.” She looked thoughtful. “It’s the biggest room in the Tower, so it will be tricky, but I’ve picked up a thing or two from Jandison. We can create this field of force—”

  “No offense, sis, but I am not interested in details,” Barson said, waving in greeting at another group of soldiers that was co
ming down the hallway.

  “Then the answer is yes, we can keep them there,” she responded, looking mildly annoyed.

  “Good, then I will leave some soldiers outside with you, so if anyone runs out, you can deal with them.”

  There were now at least fifty soldiers in front of the Council Hall doors. Thinking about the best course of action, Barson decided that he first needed some information about what awaited them in that chamber. “Dara, which one of our allies do you trust the most?” he asked, glancing at his sister.

  She considered that for a moment. “Kira and I had been friends for a few years before I told her about our plans,” she said slowly. “I think I can trust her the most.”

  “Do you think you can get her in and out of that room safely?” Barson asked.

  Dara contemplated his request. “Does she need to move around, or can she be stationary?”

  “It’s best if she moves around freely.”

  “In that case, we could combine a locator spell with a cleverly written teleportation spell—” Dara began when Barson caught her eye, giving her a sardonic look. His sister had never been in a battle before and obviously didn’t understand the value of brevity in critical situations.

  “Oh yes, sorry, master commander,” she said mockingly. “You don’t care about these details. The answer to your query is yes. We can get her in and out.”

  * * *

  “I have never done something like this before,” Kira said nervously, staring at Barson. “I don’t know a single thing about reconnaissance . . .”

  “You don’t need to know,” Barson explained calmly. “You will be using Life Capture. When you get back, I will be able to look through your eyes at that room. And I know about recon. Just look around casually and appear to be scared. They won’t know that you’re with us.”

  “I don’t think appearing scared will be hard to do,” she said wryly.

  They had Kira start a Life Capture session, and Dara implemented the teleportation and locator spells, to get Kira in the room. Vashel, Mittel, Pavel, and Noriella had joined them too, and were frantically writing spells to strengthen the already-enhanced armor of the soldiers. Dara also insisted all members of the Guard get protected against psychological attacks. This involved temporary spells, unfortunately, but Barson made a mental note to work on something more permanent with his sister. Perhaps enhanced headgear of some kind, to protect his mind from sorcery when he was king.

  Kira’s return distracted him from his musings. As soon as she appeared in front of them, she pricked her finger and put a tiny drop of blood on his Life Capture Sphere.

  Picking up the droplet that had formed as a result, Barson immediately placed it under his tongue.

  * * *

  Kira wanted to be brave. She wanted to impress Dara’s powerful brother.

  No. She stopped herself from thinking about Barson, realizing that the Life Capture would make her thoughts known. Trying to focus, she looked around the room where she’d just appeared. There were at least thirty sorcerers gathered inside the Council Hall. They were clustered on the far side of the room, away from the giant doors.

  “Come join us, quickly,” said a voice she vaguely recognized as belonging to Pierre, one of the more senior apprentices. “We need the center of the room clear, so people can teleport in safely. And send a Contact message to anyone you trust. We need everyone to gather here as quickly as they can. It looks like the Guard faked their deaths and turned on us. They’re slaughtering people left and right, and I don’t know how long the doors will keep them out.”

  Kira nodded, pretending to go along with the instructions. Clearly Pierre and the rest didn’t realize that Barson had help from sorcerers. They assumed anyone who was able to get into the locked room was on their side.

  As she walked across the large hall, she saw more people teleporting in. Approaching one of the sorcerers, she started to ask him a question when she felt that strange sensation that precedes teleportation. She was being brought out, she realized, and in the next moment she was facing Barson again, her heart beating faster in her chest. Her finger was still bleeding from before, and she pressed the wound against the Sphere . . .

  * * *

  “You did well, Kira,” Barson said, trying to suppress a smile. He apparently had an admirer among his allies. “I have all the information I need. Dara, prepare to get us in and block the room from teleportation. Keep in mind, we need to appear as close to the middle as possible, since there is an empty space there.”

  While Dara worked on the spell, he walked over to his soldiers. Given the number of sorcerers inside, he decided to split up his men. The majority of them would go into the Hall, while the rest would guard the doors to the chamber, in case any sorcerers tried to escape on foot.

  Now that he had a moment to think, Barson realized how desperate the people in that room were. In their panic, they acted like chickens with their heads cut off, instead of thinking strategically. Ringing the gong might’ve alerted others of the danger, but it also pinpointed their location to Barson—and their choice of a gathering spot was even worse. They should’ve run—or teleported themselves—outside, instead of barricading themselves indoors, where they couldn’t utilize their most destructive spells without also killing themselves. Their inability to think like warriors was to his advantage.

  When Dara’s spells were ready, Barson addressed his troops.

  “Soldiers, you know I don’t give fancy speeches,” he said calmly, “but on this occasion, some words need to be said. We are at a crossroads now. If we succeed—and I have no doubt that we will—this day will forever be remembered as the start of a new era. Each and every single one of you will be written about in history books. Today we are about to change the world.” He paused, looking at them. “Are you ready?”

  An approving roar was his response. Studying their faces, Barson could see that his soldiers were just as hungry for this as he was. They all longed for victory, and each could already see it, taste it.

  “Remember your training and utilize their weaknesses,” he said when the roar died down. “Every sorcerer in that room must die.”

  Chapter 49: Gala

  So this was the Spell Realm, Gala thought. This time, unlike right after her birth, she would get more than a brief glimmer of it with her conscious mind.

  Everything was achingly familiar and extremely strange at the same time. Gala realized with surprise that the dreams she couldn’t remember before were of this place. Only even her dreams did not prepare her for what it was really like. If anything prepared her for this, it had to be those moments when she was born—moments she had not remembered until now.

  Just as when she had woken up to self-awareness here for the first time, she was not in possession of her familiar body—the body that she’d grown used to, the body that Blaise found attractive. No, here she was something she could best understand as a pure mind. The feeling, if it could be called that, was that of flying or floating in water. Only this was infinitely more serene and peaceful.

  She knew she should be petrified at having no body, but she took it in stride. Having a body was meaningless in a place where none of her human senses worked. Existence was of a different sort here. Of a kind she was just beginning to understand.

  Though Gala didn’t have the now-familiar human senses, she still felt. It was as though her mind was connected with the fabric of the Spell Realm itself—as though the Spell Realm was permeated with sensory organs, and she was somehow able to access them.

  She still felt some of the emotions she’d experienced before. Anger at Augusta. Sadness at her own loss of control in the battle with the Council. And, overwhelmingly, she felt love and longing for Blaise.

  She tried to not let the emotions confuse her. It would be easy to get confused in this place. Instead, Gala focused on her surroundings.

  When she analyzed them, she understood more. There were colors and chaotic patterns that appeared here from time to
time. These colorful displays were spells from the Physical Realm, she decided, not knowing where the certainty came from. Perhaps like knows its like, she reflected. Now that she thought about it, Gala realized that she herself was a pattern of lights and connections. Her pattern was much more complex than any she saw—and much more structured—but she could still see the kinship. I am a spell that learned how to think, Gala thought with amazement.

  She also comprehended that if she concentrated on the different shapes and colors, she could discern the effects these spells would have in the Physical Realm.

  Someone was casting a fireball spell, which looked like a blue fractal pattern here—a pattern that didn’t resemble a ball of any kind. And yet Gala knew that it would produce a ball of fire. This pattern was more than just the shape; it was also the temperature, trajectory, and location in space and time in the Physical Realm. A lot of information was encoded in that blue pattern.

  Then there was another grand display. Instinctively Gala knew that a magical object would be formed when this spell affected the Physical Realm. There was information about the permanence of this object in the Physical Realm, and details about what it would look like, with all of its various attributes. There were myriad stipulations on how and when it would break the laws of nature in the Physical Realm—how it would be lighter than air under most conditions—and Gala knew that this would be a flying chaise, like the one she and Blaise had ridden.

  Another fantastic shape looked like a giant fountain, spewing colors and sounds; that was someone’s Interpreter Stone doing what it was made to do.

  Gala imagined that when she was in the Physical Realm, she must have been creating displays not very different from this.

  * * *